Alena realized she wouldn’t get anything more from Zolene’s spirit. It would have to be enough. “Thank you.”
Together they stared at the gate. “You’re the weaving on top of the gate, aren’t you?”
Yes. “It was my attempt at control.”
“Removing you won’t harm the gate further?”
No. “If anything, it will allow the source to flow more reliably to it.”
Alena remembered how intricate the weaving had been. “What if I cut part of the gate?”
Zolene smiled. “The weaving of the gate is capable of fixing itself, to an extent. So long as you don’t intentionally seek to destroy the gate, I do not think there is anything you could do that would injure it permanently.”
“You think I could destroy the gate?”
To that, Zolene gave no answer, and Alena caught no hint of emotion in their bond.
Their bond. “I won’t accompany you to death’s gate, will I?” The idea of stealing Zolene’s power in that way struck Alena as wrong.
“No.”
Alena nodded. “Is there nothing else?”
The other woman thought for a moment. “Trust yourself, Alena. And thank you.”
Zolene’s words had a feeling of finality about them. Alena didn’t like it, but she accepted Zolene’s wishes.
Alena called to mind her father’s knife. It had carried her through more difficult situations than she could count. It formed slowly in her hand. With another effort, she visualized the connection between Zolene and herself. It appeared as a glowing thread.
Alena watched Zolene for any reaction. She’d never taken any academy classes that prepared her for this. She was guessing. But Zolene looked serene. Happy, even.
Alena cut the cord and Zolene faded again to an apparition. As Alena turned her attention to the gate, the apparition faded away into nothingness.
Finding Zolene’s handiwork required a sustained focus. It was more difficult than before. Alena wondered if she was finding the limits of her own ability here.
Moving carefully, Alena began working at the threads. In this space, her knife was always sharp and it only required the smallest motions to slice through the threads. One at a time, Alena worked her way around the edges of the weaving.
It was slow, painstaking work. As she neared the end, her concentration frequently lapsed. She cut the gate more than once, and hoped Zolene’s comments about the gate’s ability to heal were true. She had to pause more frequently the longer she worked.
And then it was done. Alena only hesitated for a moment on the last thread. Then she sliced through it.
The pressure around her changed, as though a soft breeze had just blown through.
Though she couldn’t say why, a sense of peace overwhelmed her for a moment.
She was exhausted, but satisfied with her work.
She’d sent the Etari legend to the gates of death.
Now it was time for her own journey to a very different gate.
27
Regar and his growing entourage continued deeper into Falar. Brandt was no stranger to mountains, but Falar held scenic surprises with every league. They passed waterfalls and hiked along majestic vistas, then plunged into woods so thick the sunlight never truly broke through.
Though their pace never slowed, Brandt did find himself less exhausted at the end of every day. In many ways, the Falari reminded Brandt of the Etari. While one people controlled the plains and the other the mountains, both were conditioned to long days on foot. He’d heard rumors that some Etari warriors could run down a horse if given enough time.
In the mountains of Falar, a war horse was a liability. The trails they took were barely wide enough for humans, at times barely the width of a foot. Brandt suspected that a fear of high places was quickly eliminated from a child’s worldview here. Though he didn’t mind heights, at least once a day his heart pounded in his chest as they walked a sharp ridge or were journeyed near the edge of a cliff.
He, Ana, Leana, and Ren formed something resembling a small group of friends. They ate together in the evening and often walked close by during the day. Ana, of course, dueled Leana after their second day together. Most nights around a Falari cookfire featured at least one good-natured sparring session.
Ren informed Brandt that as Prince Regar’s Senki he did not have to accept most challenges, and Brandt took advantage of his unofficial role. Which was for the best, because every young warrior among the Falari wanted to test Regar’s Senki. He wanted to duel all challengers, but he couldn’t risk injury, not with the task that awaited them. Protecting Regar took precedence over his own desire to test his skills.
As they continued south, other war parties joined their own. Brandt wasn’t sure by what means the Falari communicated so quickly, but it seemed that everyone knew of Regar and his audience with the elders. In time, Brandt began to believe the Falari saw in the imperial prince some turning point in history. Whether he was correct about their attitude or not, Regar attracted far more attention than Brandt was comfortable with. They couldn’t go three days without meeting another warleader.
Sometimes there was a test, although that was uncommon. Merek’s indecisiveness was an exception rather than a rule. Most warleaders who joined their journey were predisposed to Regar’s cause.
Brandt found it fascinating that the empire had kept the gates such a closely guarded secret from its people. From conversations with Alena, Brandt knew all adult Etari knew of their broken gate, and the gate here was viewed by the Falari with some mixture of fear and respect Brandt hadn’t yet deciphered. Only in the empire did most people know nothing.
Similar observations had fascinated him when he was younger and leaving home for the first time. Thanks to his service with the military, he traveled frequently throughout the empire. For a young man who had never once left the town of his birth, the endless marches leading to obscure corners
