The Gates of Memory, стр. 73
A leg kicked out at her. Alena imagined an unbreakable bubble around her. When the leg struck, Alena’s head swam with visions of darkness. But her shield held.
The creature roared and jabbed at her with its fangs, but again her shield repelled the attack.
The shadows reared back and became amorphous once again, flowing between the trees that surrounded the village. For lack of a better description, it seemed to be thinking. Then it shifted again, shrinking down to the size of a man.
The shadow dissipated like morning fog, revealing Azaleth, eyes black as night.
Alena’s stomach clenched.
Show her a spider, but don’t reflect Azaleth’s memory back at her.
Azaleth sprinted at her, Etari blade flashing in the moonlight. It sparked off her bubble. He deformed for a moment, turning again into shadow before he reformed, standing above her on the bubble. He glared down at her between his feet, then took off toward the village.
Alena sprinted after him, her own pace impossibly quick, pine trees flashing around her. She passed Azaleth and drew her knife, forged by her father. She dropped her shield and drove the blade into his heart.
It felt like she was killing him all over again.
It wasn’t Azaleth. She had to remember that. The shadow opened its mouth in a wordless scream, and Alena drove a second knife, a duplicate of the first, from her left hand into his jaw, forcing it open. She gave herself limitless strength and pulled the blades in opposite directions.
The shadow ripped apart, causing it to bleed away from her. It remained a dark cloud, lacking form. But she wasn’t sure she’d hurt it.
The two opponents studied each other. No doubt the shadow sought a way past her, and she searched her knowledge for a way to kill it. Stabbing it apparently wasn’t enough.
It moved again, splitting in two and attempting to pass her on both sides.
Alena channeled her affinity through the gatestone at her navel, wanting the extra power. Through will alone, she forced the two halves to stop. She imagined them locked in place, condensing into perfect spheres of darkness. They fought against her, the sphere bulging and rippling, as though dozens of trapped creatures pushed against the skin of the sphere, trying to break free.
Strength of will decided the contest.
Alena won, and the spheres quieted. She didn’t dare release her hold on them, though.
She used the quiet moments to study them. Unlike the ghosts, this shadow had threads tying it to the real world.
Alena examined those threads, a sense of deja vu coming over her. They were familiar, their handiwork too similar to be coincidence.
The queen.
Impulsively, Alena took her knife and severed the threads, cutting through them with ease.
The shadow’s struggle against her containment redoubled, but Alena gritted her teeth and held it in place.
Cut off from its source, the shadows faded, roaring in anger. Alena watched them fade, only releasing her grip when she was sure the shadow was gone.
Why was the Lolani queen interested in devouring ghosts?
Her mind was too tired to even begin to guess. That was a mystery for another day.
She stumbled back into the village, glad to see Toren and Sheren were almost done escorting the ghosts. Both kept a safe distance from the gate itself.
Just as she reached them, the world shook, an earthquake stronger than any reality could offer. Had the world been physical, the mountains themselves would have crumbled. Here, Alena and the others fell, but no other harm was done.
“What was that?” Toren asked.
Alena shook her head. She had no idea. It felt enormous, like the whole domain of the soul had shifted.
Toren ran to Alena. “Was it our gate?”
She hadn’t even thought of the gate. “Hold on.”
Zolene had implied that distance didn’t matter, so Alena fought her disbelief to connect with the Etari gate. The search took what felt like ages, but she found it. The Etari gate still worked. Her curiosity sparked, though, she turned her attention to the other gates. After finding the Etari gate, the others were easier to find. She studied the two imperial gates, finding them also in order. Then she followed the threads to the gate in Falar, wanting to check that one before venturing anywhere near the queen’s gate.
She found the problem, and she backed away before she could be noticed.
“It’s not the Etari gate,” Alena reassured Toren. She looked to Sheren. “It’s the Falari gate.”
“What happened?” she asked.
“Someone took control of it.”
“Who?”
Alena shook her head. She noticed the presence connected to the gate but didn’t recognize it. “I don’t know.”
37
Hanns lived, but his breath was weak and uneven. Regar kneeled next to the emperor, concern written in every line of his face. “When I came through, I was also disoriented and felt ill, but not like this.”
“Did the queen attack the gate?” Brandt asked.
Regar looked confused for a moment, then nodded. “Yes. Perhaps that was it. He passed through as the gate was under attack. When I came through, I felt better after some rest.” The prince looked up at the elders. “Is there someplace we can take him where he can sleep?”
A runner was dispatched to seek aid and prepare quarters near those of the other imperials, and Brandt and Regar picked up the emperor between them and carried him out of the maze. Not long after, another runner returned with a thick sheet attached to two stout poles. He unfurled the stretcher and they laid Hanns out on it. Regar and Brandt each picked up one end and the march continued.
While the journey into the cave had been long, the journey out felt endless. The paths all sloped up, making Brandt’s legs burn with effort. A few times the Falari guards offered to share the burden, but each time Brandt refused. Hanns was his emperor. In time, they stopped