Ana threw up her hands. “Fine. We follow. But as soon as we know enough, we run.”
Brandt agreed. They made their way back to the horses and to the trail, then continued their pursuit.
It was late in the afternoon when they found the rest of the invasion.
If it could even be called as much.
Brandt and Anna stood on ridge, protected by trees, watching the advance. Brandt counted less than ten warriors. Assuming other scouts roamed the area, Brandt guessed their total number still numbered less than a dozen.
The two wolfblades watched the group as they set up camp, their motions practiced and unhurried.
Brandt noticed one woman who seemed set apart from the rest of the group. No matter where she went, it looked as though the others made a circle around her, keeping her constantly protected. Few orders were given, but Brandt got the sense the others all deferred to her. Brandt memorized her features, but wished he could get closer to make out more details.
He glanced over at Ana, who met his gaze. He nodded. They had seen enough.
They moved silently away from the camp, pausing once they were well away. They put their heads together and whispered.
“Did you see how they treated the woman in the center?” Brandt asked.
“I would guess she’s their leader.”
“Should we kill her?”
Ana bit her lower lip. “There’s no point. No matter how strong they are, they can’t do much damage to the empire. Not with so few people. We return to Kye, let him know what we’ve seen, and leave the rest to him.”
Brandt thought a moment longer and agreed. If the situation seemed more dire, he might have tried an assassination, but with so few, it wasn’t worth the risk. The entire force would be destroyed as soon as they approached Landow.
They continued their retreat, stopping only when a large gray wolf stepped out of the woods in front of them.
Every instinct in Brandt’s body told him that something was wrong.
Wolves never traveled alone, and they never stopped in front of people.
Brandt reached for his sword, but his hand never reached the hilt.
The wolf whimpered and suddenly ran away, disappearing into the woods. At the same time, an overwhelming wave of fear crashed into Brandt, driving him to his knees.
He’d fought in many battles, and he had even seen the gates of death. But never had he felt a crippling panic like this. He gasped for breath and his eyes went wide as every shadow jumped at him.
He saw Ana’s concerned face, and then he wasn’t in the woods anymore.
Show me your fear.
He was on the road to Landow, years ago, with Lola and Ryder, Kyler and Ana.
He’d thought of this journey often, but it had never been so clear, so vivid.
It was a memory, but more.
Lola laughed at one of Kyler’s raunchy jokes. Brandt thought he even saw a hint of a smile pass across Ryder’s lips.
He missed them.
He had forgotten about Ryder’s wry smile and Kyler’s terrible humor. Tides of time washed away his memories, smoothing out the edges until little was left.
Then blackness swallowed him.
You have been touched before. A hint of surprise.
Ahh. Understanding.
Perfect blackness, then a memory of him on the road to Highkeep.
A crude working.
Brandt saw the wolfblades again, on the road, walking together toward Landow.
Then blackness.
Then walking again.
And darkness.
The images cycled, back and forth, and Brandt screamed. They were his friends, and he had forgotten their deaths. How could he honor them, if he didn’t even remember how they had died? Had they died as heroes?
No. Show me your fear.
Darkness, followed by his life since Landow. His time at the monastery, the comfortable existence he had led there. His life with Ana, secure behind the thick walls. The voice put a name to the creeping uncertainty he always felt.
You’re a coward.
The simple statement stabbed into his soul.
She ran and lived. If you live, it’s because you ran as well.
The voice was female, but low and aggressive, dripping with malice and contempt.
A real commander dies with his troops. He doesn’t run.
She was right, of course.
How else could he have lived through the events people had described to him? Ana had been clear enough about what she had done. She had been a coward. And he was, too.
He had abandoned his friends.
He felt a probing, like fingers massaging his soul, looking for something he didn’t understand.
The pressure eased, and then he couldn’t breathe, the sheer terror causing his heart to pound and his breath to catch.
Kill yourself.
Something in the woman’s voice had changed. It was still assertive, but there was something else there, a quality his panicked mind couldn’t identify.
Take your own life to honor your warriors. Join them on the other side of the gates. They are waiting for you.
“No!” a voice pulled at him.
His vision returned and he was back in the woods. He held a knife in his hand, and he was trying to cut his own neck. Only Ana’s hands, wrapped around his wrist, prevented him.
She was infuriating. She was a coward, and she tried to make him one, too.
He wouldn’t let her.
He growled and tried to free his wrist from her grasp, but her hands were like iron. “Stop!” she yelled.
She couldn’t stop him. One small bit at a time, he pulled the blade closer. He could almost feel the cold, sharp steel against his throat.
Ana’s eyes narrowed, and a wall of pure will slammed into him. Something inside of him broke, and he released the grip on the knife.
In one smooth motion Ana grabbed the blade and tossed it away from them. Then, for a few moments they both sat there, regaining their strength.
When she looked up, there were tears in her eyes. “What happened?”
He shook his head, not wanting to explain what he had just seen. Some thoughts were too close and too painful, even to share with Ana. “Compulsion,” he claimed.
Her doubt was plain to see. “You said
