Storm Phase Series: Books 1-3 by Hayden David Alastair

Author:Hayden, David Alastair [Hayden, David Alastair]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Typing Cat Press
Published: 2015-11-21T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Nine

The monolith’s channels jerked his consciousness free from his body. Around him, the world hazed into a vague mist of faded and fleeting images, as in a half-remembered dream … as if he had projected himself into the Shadowland, something he’d done only once, cautiously, as a training exercise.

In this astral form, he rocketed out from the monolith and zoomed over the land. It felt like when he became a dragon, except he was only himself and had no control over where he went.

This wasn’t how the spell was supposed to work. Worried that something must have gone wrong with the casting, he started to pull back. Then he remembered Lu Bei’s warning to embrace the monolith’s power. Had he known this would happen? Lu Bei was sneaky enough not to tell him.

Turesobei traveled west of Sooku, up into the central portion of the Orichomo Mountains, the chain separating Batsakun and Zangaiden, through the clouds and high into the tallest peaks. He drifted down onto a ledge fifty paces deep and many more wide. On that ledge stood something lost to the modern world.

Surrounded by a halo of blue-white kenja was a stone arch the height of two men and wide enough to fit three denekon. Tiny runes covered every inch of the portal. The Ancient Zabokan rune representing winter blazed at the top of the arch.

The Winter Gate. The portal into the Celestial Realm of Winter, also known as the Ancient Cold and Deep.

No wonder it was lost. How could anyone get up here to it? But what did this have to do with Iniru and the Lair of the Deadly Twelve?

He passed the gate and floated through a stretch of tunnels leading from the gate deep into the mountain. His spirit form entered an expansive cavern, illuminated by torches and translucent moss sagging from the walls. One side of the cavern was level, with a polished floor; the other half was rough and interspersed with many raised sections. A series of doors lined one side of the flat half of the cavern. He glided through one door and into a small room.

On a bed sat a zaboko child, maybe seven or eight, with plump cheeks, silky white hair, and brilliant, ice-blue eyes. She clutched a knitted rabbit to her chest. It was hard to focus for long on her features in this dreamlike state, but her aura burned bright, identical to the kenja that surrounded the Winter Gate.

Looming over her was a terrifying ghoul of a baojendari man, taller than Turesobei and pulsing an aura of green and black kenja and bearing the ethereal stench of the Shadowland. The ghoul’s white hair clumped in greasy tangles. A tattered crimson robe, belted at the waist, hung loose on his gaunt frame. He was toothless save for fangs, and he had a face that didn’t belong on a man who still breathed. An eight-pointed star was tattooed on his forehead. A matching amulet dripping scarlet kenja hung from his neck.

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