A few moments later, she understood.
The cavalry leaped through the flames, but the fire and smoke obscured their view. The horses ran into the wall, seeing the obstacle too late. Horses and riders went down, terrified screams and cries of agony echoing in Alena’s ears.
All the while, stones continued spinning and disappearing, a relentless onslaught.
As destructive as the attacks were, a handful of cavalry made it through to the Etari line, long swords drawn.
Then Alena watched the Etari display their martial prowess.
She had seen better at the academy. The empire had created some true masters over the years. But she’d never seen such a consistent display of skill among a group of people.
Imperial-style swords sliced down from up high, but all they cut was air and grass. The Etari were quick. Though their swords were shorter, their agility was unmatched. Alena thought of Ryder, and wondered if he had trained with the Etari. Their styles of movement were very similar.
One rider came close to Alena, although her focus was on Azaleth. The rider cut down, but Azaleth dodged her sword, then darted back, scoring a cut along the horse’s back leg. The animal lost its balance, throwing the rider from the saddle.
The empire soldier had the wind knocked out of her, but she recovered quickly and got to her knees, raising her sword to duel Azaleth.
For the moment, the woman’s attention was focused straight ahead, her back to Alena.
Alena wasn’t sure what came over her, but she became light and approached, wrapping herself around the warrior’s arms, preventing her from moving easily.
She realized in a heartbeat it was a terrible move. But it distracted the woman and slowed her down. Azaleth stepped forward, the point of his blade aimed straight at the woman, and Alena behind.
Alena grimaced, expecting the point of a sword to pierce her flesh in a moment.
But it didn’t come.
She felt the woman’s body go limp under her grip. Alena let go and the body fell forward. She shivered as she realized that for a moment she’d been holding onto a corpse.
Alena looked around and realized that the battle was over. Ahead of them, the flames were snuffed out and the berm of dirt and stone disappeared into the land it came from.
The plains were too quiet then. Alena counted the Etari. Impossibly, none of them had been killed. One had a nasty gash on his forehead, but that seemed to be the extent of the injuries.
The trail of corpses stretched out for hundreds of paces.
Alena shivered again, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. Sooni was watching her, nodding in approval.
She had helped to kill a warrior.
Nothing made sense, but her mind was blank.
Sooni made another gesture, and the Etari began to strip the corpses.
Alena watched with horror as the bodies were tossed and pulled. Clothes and weapons were collected, leaving the bodies naked beneath the sun.
Not wanting to be heard by all, Alena approached Sooni and whispered, “What are you doing?”
Sooni gave her a look, as though the answer was obvious to anyone with eyes.
“You can’t desecrate bodies like that!” Alena protested.
Sooni frowned. “We’re not desecrating them. We’re taking their supplies, which will help protect our people. They are dead and beyond care, and they can’t use the material anymore. Besides, the bodies must be burned. The skills we used today can’t be learned by the empire. The evidence must disappear.”
Alena shook her head, unable to wrap her mind around the reasoning.
She had never felt so far from home in her life.
37
The emperor left two days later. He attended the death ceremonies of the monks and sent birds requesting aid. But the duties of the empire weighed on him, and he could not remain in any one place for long. Ostensibly, thought Brandt, he had been here to examine the martial progress of the monks. Now, though, Brandt realized the monasteries were the keystone to a much larger battle the emperor expected.
Brandt wandered in a daze for the next few days. He attended all the usual trainings, but neither his mind nor his heart was in the routine.
The emperor’s visit had reminded him of his wolfblades. The emperor’s failure to restore his memories troubled him, more than he revealed to Kyla or the monks. He had always hoped, had always believed the memories would return.
Then Hanns had told him it would never be possible. In all likelihood, he had watched his friends die and would never remember their final moments.
That inability to remember gnawed at him and denied him true grief. He couldn’t accept that they were truly dead. Every time he passed the gate to the monastery, he glanced toward it, halfway expecting Lola to come through the door, yelling at him for his prolonged absence.
But the monastery received few visitors, and Brandt’s wolfblades were certainly not among them. They were dead, whether or not he could accept the fact.
His training also suffered. He had seen firsthand the power arrayed against them. Such strength made his own abilities seem pointless in comparison. He sought answers, but none came.
He kept running up against an impossible foe: reality. The laws of the world could not be broken. One evening, desperate for answers, he turned to the abbot.
He caught her walking after the evening meal, wandering the wall as she often did at night. After engaging in the customary formalities, he got to the heart of his problem. “Do you know of any way to negate the cost?”
She raised one eyebrow. “The short answer is no.”
Brandt had hoped for a different answer. Still, her answer suggested she had more to say. “But?”
“But I am increasingly convinced there must be a way to bypass the cost. The storm is one example, but others have reached my ears.” She hesitated for a moment. “One of your own wolfblades was killed in Landow by a building falling on top of
