The Gates of Memory, стр. 79
Sheren looked offended at the question. “I said that I would.”
Alena watched the war parties for a few moments. If they knew more of the war parties and their intentions, it would influence their choices. She asked Sheren, “How far until we find a suitable campsite for the night?”
“Not far. We shall arrive well before sundown.”
Not far at all, then, given as the sun was almost down. She had time to try and still reach their campsite before night fell.
“I’m going to soulwalk,” Alena said.
Sheren looked dubious, but nodded.
Alena shared their guide’s doubt. Despite Zolene saying that distance didn’t matter in a soulwalk, Alena’s own experiences indicated otherwise. The web of life was intricate beyond imagining, and while she could travel it at will now, finding a single soul was nearly impossible unless they were close. When Alena tied herself to another in the soulwalk, she could follow the thread, brighter than others. But without such a guide, she found herself lost after a few dozen paces.
It was still worth a try, though. Alena stepped back from the ledge and sat down in a cross-legged position. Then she closed her eyes and dropped into a soulwalk.
Her first impressions were those of her friends. Sheren, Jace, and Toren were all easily distinguishable and Alena felt the threads that ran between them all.
She pushed those aside, questing for the war parties.
The web of life expanded before her and she followed it in the direction of the closer of the two parties. She followed and followed, seeking a cluster of humans.
Sweat beaded on her forehead as she sought the party. For all their achievements, humans were not as unique in the web of life as they often thought they were. Her mind grew tired as she ran along the threads, seeking that small difference that indicated a human life.
She was just about to admit defeat when she thought she felt something. She latched onto the connection with all the focus she could muster. Grimacing against the effort, she attempted to bring the other mind into focus. She channeled her efforts through her gatestone, though it seemed to have little effect.
For as close as she got to the other soul, she couldn’t quite connect with it. She felt as though she was running as fast as she could, but the one in front of her still pulled slightly ahead.
Refusing to surrender after coming so close, Alena pushed even harder. For a single heartbeat, the warrior’s mind came into focus and she saw an image of a city built into a mountain. She saw the war that would soon take place there, at least how the warrior imagined it.
Then it was gone. Her mind, stretched to its limit, finally broke. Alena gasped as she snapped back into her own body, the transition as jarring as stepping in an unseen hole.
When she opened her eyes and glanced at the position of the sun it looked like almost no time had passed. The others gazed at her expectantly, but she shook her head. “I was close. I found one of them. It is as you suspected,” she said to Sheren. “They march on Faldun. But I could tell no more.”
It wasn’t enough. They would need to know more. If Alena was going to be of service to this group, she needed to get stronger. She needed more power.
If war was coming, she meant to be prepared.
41
They had only advanced three levels up Faldun when Brandt made himself a promise. He swore that he would never again fight the Falari in this city.
Never again.
Even flat cities were a nightmare to fight within. That was a fact well known by military strategists. In Brandt’s career the closest he’d ever come was fighting a skirmish in an outpost town near the Falari border, and that had been an experience he never wished to repeat.
Cities had too many corners, too many dark shadows that easily hid enemies.
It was bad enough when the attacks were made by warriors attacking with swords, but there were ways of protecting oneself then. Staying away from corners and shadows, as well as clearing spaces completely, guaranteed a warrior would at least have a warning when an attack came. A footstep or a yell, at least.
It was worse against archers like the Falari, who hid in buildings and on rooftops. Fighting against such enemies allowed for no warning. One moment, you’d be walking along the street, the next you’d have an arrow through the chest. That fate had already felled more than a few of Ren’s allies.
To make the situation worse again, put the archers in a place like Faldun, which was more vertical than horizontal. Archers loosed arrows from dozens of paces above them, or even from below. Brandt and his sword were nearly useless. But he’d be even more useless with a bow in his hands.
Brandt quickly realized that this wasn’t just a test of physical skill, but a test of awareness. Those Falari who best understood their environment were most likely to survive. It was in this battle Ren’s true skills became apparent. Weylen’s Senki was a very strong sword and excellent bow, but his awareness was preternatural.
Brandt considered himself hard to surprise, but he couldn’t keep track of this fight. If not for Ren, he’d be dead a dozen times over.
Never again, Brandt swore.
Their objectives didn’t make their task any easier, either. This was a battle that favored the ambush, the stationary archer with a wide field of view and protection at their back. But Ren and the others couldn’t afford to lie in wait. They needed to move. They needed to join with Weylen and the others, then fight their way to Regar.
They followed intelligence Weylen had received earlier, that Regar was sheltered near the mouth of the entrance to the gate, about twenty levels above where they currently fought. Weylen and a handful of other warleaders hoped to assemble and send Regar straight