The Gates of Memory, стр. 83

Regar’s planning was apparent with every step they took. The number of Falari loyal to him surprised them all, from Brandt to Weylen. By the time they made their retreat, the battle for Faldun was almost over. Regar’s forces controlled the majority of the city, and Brandt and his allies escaped with the emperor through one of the last two contested exits. Had they been delayed much longer, Brandt often wondered if all hope would have been lost.

But their escape from Faldun was only the beginning of their trouble.

They first learned that harsh truth two days after putting the city walls behind them, random arrows falling among them as they ran. The patrols protecting their retreat announced that two war parties pursued them.

After a day of running, Weylen made the difficult choice to turn and fight. Exhausted from the pursuit, his warriors still outnumbered the pursuers. They chose their battleground and settled in.

But the pursuit never closed. They waited, and although Brandt didn’t understand their tactics, Weylen did. “They’re waiting for others. We’re being penned in.”

A quick conference among the warleaders led to another hard choice. They would separate, all of them agreeing to converge on Weylen’s village a fortnight hence.

The parties separated without fanfare, and Weylen’s own party continued on.

Brandt didn’t like the idea of separating, but he understood the logic. The time to fight hadn’t come yet. They were exhausted and on the run. They were reactive. If large forces met, the odds were against them.

Separating gave them the best chance of surviving and regrouping.

As he watched Weylen, Brandt also realized that their initial expedition had stumbled upon a war party that held a position of considerable authority in the Falari hierarchy. That realization led to another: Regar had always planned to meet Weylen.

The more he thought about it, the more he understood the devious brilliance of the idea. He convinced his enemies to escort him into the trap he’d built. Had Weylen died in Faldun, Brandt didn’t know who would lead the resistance.

It explained the lack of fighting on the road, as well, and why Regar hadn’t tried to escape when Weylen’s village was under attack.

If Brandt hadn’t also been a victim of Regar’s deception he would’ve been far more impressed.

Weylen’s decision to separate the gathered war parties eased the pressure of pursuit for a full day as their pursuers decided on a new tactic, and for a while Brandt could almost relax. Perhaps they would make it without too much trouble after all.

An ambush by a Falari war party heading toward Faldun killed that hopeful belief.

Weylen and the others fought the ambush off, but they lost two more warriors.

The next four days were filled with painfully slow movement. Ren’s scouts ran leagues every day, alert for the movement of other war parties. The land seemed to be suddenly swarming with them. But it only proved Weylen’s belief. Regar and his allies had hoped to pen them in.

Now war parties played an enormous and deadly game of hide-and-seek in the mountains. Day after day Weylen had to make the difficult choice of hiding or fighting.

Most often they chose to hide. They were tired, and Weylen hadn’t left his village with his full war party in the first place. Many remained behind to heal and to repair the damage the village had suffered. Of those that had come, too many had already fallen in Faldun and the days that followed. Against a fully armed and well-rested war party, Weylen’s warriors had little chance.

Brandt couldn’t remember a time when he’d been more exhausted. Silence had become customary long ago, not just because of the threat of discovery, but because the energy required to hold a conversation no longer existed. Every bit of focus and attention was given instead to the never-ending task of avoiding ambush and moving like ghosts through the mountains.

Brandt knew no way to express his gratitude for their Falari escort. Had he been responsible for this journey alone he was certain he wouldn’t have survived. The constant vigilance required was too much for any single person. Only by sharing the burden could they survive.

Then, nearly a week after leaving the walls, Alena informed him that Weylen’s village was under attack.

The news lit a fire under Weylen’s warriors. For days now they been beaten down and pursued, with no clear objective other than to survive.

But no longer. Not only was their home under attack, but it was the place they had all agreed to meet. If it fell, they lost not only their heart, but the whole war.

Their pace had already been demanding, but Weylen increased it anyway. They rose long before the sun, taking the first steps before the first light of the day. They marched relentlessly, not even stopping for meals. They continued well into the evening, then crashed to the ground where they stood whenever the march was called.

Brandt also worried about Hanns. The emperor regained his strength day by day, but the going was slow, and the old man couldn’t keep up the pace demanded by Weylen. Hanns walked when he could, but he still spent a fair amount of the day in his litter, carried by teams of guards who never uttered a complaint.

Brandt felt like something was going to crack. But when it did, it came from an unexpected direction.

One night, as they were lying down next to each other, Ana asked him a question. “Do you think we’re doing the right thing?”

Brandt was too tired for the question, and he answered it by instinct. “I don’t know. Does right or wrong even matter? There’s only what must be done.”

He’d been looking up at the stars, but Ana turned his face toward hers. “You keep saying that. And it scares me.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m worried that I’m losing you.”

He held her other hand between his own. Sleep pulled at him, but he sensed her unease. “I can’t promise you that I’ll survive, but I