The Gates of Memory, стр. 104
Alena’s knife appeared in her hand.
Regar had tied several bonds between him and the gate. Alena put her knife to one and focused her will. Her blade slid through the lashing with ease. The lashing fell from the gate and withered as she focused on it.
Could it really be this easy?
Only three strands remained, and Alena set herself to a second strand, cutting through it with just as much ease as the first. These bonds were weaker than those Alena had tied between her and Brandt, and she’d thought that weaving weak.
For all the power they controlled, she thought of the Anders like children now, playing a game for which they didn’t even know the rules.
She turned her attention to the third strand.
Before she could make the cut, though, she felt a presence. Not in the soulwalk. She spun around, the motion slow, but she remained alone.
The feeling, she decided, was an echo passed down from her physical body. Her time had run out.
Hoping that Zolene’s comments about the self-healing properties of the gate were true, Alena reached up with her knife and made one cut running down the length of the gate. Where the tip of the knife met the gate, it slowed and burned a bright white light. Though she focused all her will, she barely made a scratch in the gate.
But she did make a scratch, and she now had some idea of what would be required to destroy a gate like Etar’s. Her blade sliced all the way down, cutting through the final cords wrapped around the gate. When she finished her cut, all Regar’s connections had been completely severed. She stepped back and studied the gate one more time. It was free, just as she believed the gates should be.
In that moment it occurred to her just how easy it would be for her to take control of the gate. It was right before her, with no one to contest her claim. If her physical body was in danger, that power might mean the difference between life and death. She didn’t feel the same debt of honor to the Falari that she felt to her Etari family. She could join Hanns in fighting the queen.
The temptation grew. It would be easy, and she even suspected she could learn to do more with the gates than those who feared soulwalking. She thought of the good she could do, of the changes she could make. Together, she and Hanns could find a new way forward for the empire.
She could protect others, the same way Brandt wanted to protect them all.
The thought stopped her in her tracks. She knew where these thoughts led. If she continued walking that path, how long would it be before she considered the stealing of souls from the gate justified? How long before she couldn’t tell the difference between herself and the queen?
She looked longingly at the gate for another long heartbeat, then turned away.
She came out of the soulwalk quickly. She passed through the levels separating her from reality with ease.
When she opened her eyes, back underneath the mountains, she came face to face with the Lolani queen.
57
Prince Regar stood over his father, aloof and detached. Fifteen paces behind him, Brandt stood frozen, unable to will his body or mind into motion.
The knife wound was fatal. Unless Hanns possessed some healing skill beyond Brandt’s awareness, his time remaining in the world was limited.
Brandt could still pull on the power of the two gates through Hanns. The emperor drew breath, so he was still connected to his gates. Brandt could finish what the emperor hadn’t been able to. He heard a primal scream echo in the square.
A moment later, he realized the scream was his.
Whatever fear held him in place vanished. He charged the prince. He didn’t care that Regar controlled a gate. He didn’t care that Regar had trained his entire life for this moment. All that mattered was that Regar had killed his father.
And betrayal demanded blood.
Brandt’s charge ended the moment Regar turned his attention to the former wolfblade.
Regar’s gesture was dismissive, but it was no less dangerous for that. A gust of focused wind struck Brandt like a wall, picking him up off his feet and throwing him straight back. He hit the stone of the square hard. His training kicked in and his body relaxed. He rolled twice before coming back to his feet, sword still in hand.
Undeterred, he charged again. Another gust of wind, even stronger than the first, knocked him back off his feet. This time he landed hard, the wind expelled from his lungs. He coughed and struggled first to hands and knees, then to his feet. He wouldn’t stop, not until Regar was dead. Even if it meant drawing from the gates through Hanns’ dying body.
Regar’s voice sounded heavy, as though even speaking challenged him. “Don’t, Brandt. There’s no point.”
Brandt stumbled forward anyway.
Regar raised his hand, no doubt preparing his final attack.
Brandt was out of ideas. But he wasn’t going to stop, either. Before Regar could unleash his attack, his face went pale. He frowned, then he crumpled to the ground.
Less than ten paces separated Brandt from Regar, and he didn’t plan on wasting the opportunity. He closed the distance in less than two heartbeats, risking lightness to skip across the square.
Disoriented as he was, Regar still possessed the presence of mind to roll away from Brandt’s sword. But while he dodged the deadly edge, he left himself open to Brandt’s knee. The two collided with a crack of bone on bone. Brandt overextended and lost his balance, tumbling over the prince. Worried about cutting himself, Brandt let go of his sword, which clattered behind him as he rolled to a stop.
Brandt recovered before Regar. In a moment, he was on his feet, pummeling the prince with fists, elbows, and kicks. Not every blow connected, but