The Rift War

by Michelle L. Levigne

  Meghianna took her followers with her, along with the women of Wynystrys, to go to the Stronghold and empty the storerooms of refined star-metal, both what had been shaped into items for use, and the untouched lumps and bars. Emrillian had five friends among the Archaics who were also skilled in metalworking. If they had time, she would train them in working star-metal into simple rings and bracelets, so everyone would have something to boost their imbrose.

  * * * *

  "I remember when we came to Quenlaque the first time." Emrillian gestured at the faint shimmer in the distance, where the castle and the sprawling town that surrounded it remained safe inside the first defensive shield Mrillis and Meghianna had woven around it.

  Baedrix had made the suggestion that since there was so much star-metal woven into the foundations of the castle, and since the shield had remained solid when the dome fell and disrupted so much magic, Quenlaque would be the best strategic spot for facing down the enemy navies. They had broken camp just after sunrise, boarded the Directorate's ships, and headed up the coast to the port city, the center of civilization on Lygroes. Over the years, more than two-thirds of the entire population had settled around Quenlaque, leaving much of the land to grow wild, creating as wide a barrier as they could between the ordinary populace and the Encindi.

  "How old were you?" Shalara said.

  The two of them stood in the prow of the larger of the two Directorate ships, the morning breeze slapping their faces. Graddon, Karstis, and Grego were in charge of the other ship. Mrillis had elected to ride to Quenlaque with Ynfara and Athrar, for appearances, to reacquaint himself with the countryside, and to keep an eye on the nobles who would be busy discussing what had been learned and decided in the council session the night before.

  "Three, going on four. I was born in the Stronghold, and it was my entire world for so long. It wasn't safe for me to live anywhere else." She braced her hands on the railing and tipped her head back as she took a deep breath of the salt air. "Mama and I rode in disguise. I remember how funny I thought it was, to know one of the lady soldiers was dressed up as Mama. She carried a piglet wrapped in blankets to make someone think I rode in her arms. Grandmama was so brave. She would have been killed as an afterthought if someone attacked, just because she was there, but she rode out in the open to enforce the illusion, and make people think that the Warhawk's queen and his child were there, those two people."

  "Your grandmother?"

  "Queen Glyssani." Emrillian laughed when Shalara closed her eyes and shook her head. "What's wrong?"

  "Sometimes it just hits me...what we're doing, where we are. You say names out of legend so easily, as if they're real people."

  "They were." She sighed and slumped forward, resting against her arms now crossed on the top of the railing. "I know what you mean. For a while, there were two different sets of people in my mind. The people I remembered and loved, and the people from the legends, who had the same names but very different lives."

  "What is it like? To know the fables, and to know the truth? Does it hurt, to hear people insist your mother was unfaithful and a traitor, and that your father slept with his own sister?"

  "I decided long ago to feel sorry for them, to be so confused by lies, and to be so poisoned in their minds that they enjoy believing evil about others they had never met. And... I vowed to myself that one day, the truth would be revealed, and all the lies would be destroyed." Another sigh. "No matter what it takes."

  "Do you remember Lycen? He was so tragic, so heroic. So doomed," Shalara added with a wry chuckle. "I suppose most of the stories we've been told aren't true?"

  "Most of them. The truth is that enemies cast spells on him and Mama, to try to force them together, to destroy them both and through them hurt Papa. Uncle Lycen loved his wife very much, and that gave him the strength to resist.

  "He used to hold me in front of him on his horse and take me on what I thought were terribly exciting, mad gallops in the fields around Quenlaque. I think Aunt Ilianora wanted a daughter very much, so they spoiled me whenever they could."

  After a moment of thought, Emrillian concentrated hard, fracturing the sunlight caught in the sea spray kicked up by the wind. Her breath caught in her throat in unanticipated pain as the images of Lycen and Ilianora and young Garad, as she last remembered them, floated in the air a meter out from the prow of the ship. Lycen sprawled on a chaise by the firepit in their quarters, reading aloud from a scroll, while Ilianora worked on embroidery and Garad sat on the floor at his father's feet, carving something from a block of wood.

  "He was making a toy horse for me," she said, after they had both stared at the moving, silent image for several moments. "If the war hadn't ended as it did, if the dome hadn't been necessary and Papa hadn't been wounded... I adored Garad, and our parents hoped we would marry someday."

  "Amazing," Shalara whispered. She nodded, staring unblinking at the image. "And Baedrix is his grandson. But how could your parents want you to marry? You were cousins."

  "No blood relation. Aunt Meghianna adopted Lycen. She raised Papa and Uncle Lycen as brothers, so my uncle was technically my cousin." She chuckled when Shalara rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out. "I anticipate having a great deal of fun endangering the sanity of quite a few troublemakers among the Archaics, chopping all their ridiculous theories and scenarios out from under them."

  "If you ever return to Moerta," Kayn said from behind them.

  How long he had been standing there, listening to them talk, Emrillian had no way of knowing. It was reassuring seeing the four guards, two Quenlaque Valors and two Archaics, who were assigned to watch over every move he made. She noted how Kayn kept looking past her, at the image that remained in the air even when she stopped consciously maintaining it. She gestured, turning her hand over and closing her fist--a totally unnecessary motion, not linked to the illusion at all--and it compressed into a bright spot in the air, then winked out. She and Grego had decided that impressing Kayn was the best way of controlling him, rather than with threats. As long as he thought he had something to gain through cooperation, he wouldn't attack.

  "Master Kayn." Emrillian mentally shoved the relaxed time of foolery into the back of her mind and turned to face the next task on her long list for the day. "Has all the equipment been repaired, or at least rigged to give us a fully functioning ship?"

  "You're being a fool." He visibly avoided looking at Shalara. "Putting my ship back together, letting me work on it, letting me be in contact with my people."

  "We share some of the same goals. The Warhawk does not want the warring nations of Moerta to touch Lygroes' soil or steal power from the Threads. Neither do you. Now that the technology has been invented to siphon away star-metal energy, there is no way of preventing others from following the same path and doing the same thing. Partnership will protect the interests of both sides. I have much loyalty for Goarlotte-Welcairn. My family's former kingdoms," she added, and was delighted to see Kayn wince at the reminder.

  "What do you want from me now?" He sounded more tired than irritated.

  She decided that was progress in their rocky relationship. "We have determined that Edrout has moved out into the sea. We aren't sure which nation he has made contact with, but once he learns that they are here to capture these ships and this technology, he will come to claim it himself."

  "The enemy of my enemy is my ally," Shalara said. She managed to hold back the smirk that tugged at the corners of her mouth, when Kayn glared at her, then made a point of turning his attention back to Emrillian. "You have to decide who is a bigger threat to your dignity and your plans, Kayn. Edrout or the Warhawk? A despot who uses death to increase his power--which certainly sounds like some of our less pleasant neighbors--or the man who essentially controls all the star-metal in the world."

  "Your people told me the star-metal was in the Stronghold, which is under the control of the Queen of Snows," Kayn retorted. He didn't sound nearly as argumentative as expected. Another g
ood sign.

  "Who happens to be my father's sister," Emrillian said.

  "Keeping it all in the family, aren't you? I'm not a fanatic about the legends of Athrar like you Archaics, but if Edrout is real, doesn't that make him your brother?"

  "Cousin, actually. The son of Megassa, but not of Athrar." She gestured up at the control cabin of the ship. "Will you serve with us as an ally, and with my promise that you will be given tamed star-metal to experiment on?"

  "How much?" he asked quickly.

  "One kilo. And I'll let your scientists watch as I teach my friends how to work star-metal," she added, following her gut instinct that said knowledge was an even stronger lure for Sevron Kayn than paranoia or patriotism.

  He cracked a smile for the first time since he had stepped out of the boat, dripping and bruised, onto the shore by Wynystrys. "Mistress Rakkell, you have a deal."

  "Queen Emrillian Warhawk," Shalara corrected.

  "Peace, Shar." Emrillian smiled, amused by her friend's quick response defending her rank, and pleased that she had indeed read her adversary correctly. "Besides, with my father returned to Lygroes and in command, I am merely a princess again."

  "Merely," Kayn said with a snort. "Royalty was outlawed..." He looked her up and down, and she could have sworn he searched for a sign of her star-metal armor showing from under her traveling cloak, jacket, loose trousers and calf-high boots. "I keep forgetting we are in another world and time."

  "Not quite. Quenlaque has been pulled forward into your world and time, Master Kayn, and you--whether you want to or not--are part of the effort to bring peace and cooperation and prosperity to everyone involved." As she had calculated, he relaxed and looked a little more cheerful at her use of the word "prosperity."

  * * * *

  Just past noon, word came from the sentinels along the coast and the spy ships that had been sent out across the sea. One large battleship had broken away from the continuing brief battles and maneuvering of the Moertan navies. Graddon confirmed that he sensed blood magic at work, combined with imbrose and an energy he had never sensed before, shielding the battleship from magical and physical senses. Quenlaque's defenders had many advantages: the Archaics' understanding of technology as well as magic, Graddon's presence on the ship and his link with Mrillis. And the increasing interest and cooperation of the Directorate's people. Quenlaque's defenders weren't blind. Technology augmented by magic caught movement and solid mass on the sensors, even if light still bent and sound waves swerved around the shielded enemy. The presence of blood magic proved that Edrout had reached out and either allied with the approaching enemy or had taken them in thrall.

  One Directorate ship was left unshielded, sitting alone in front of the opening of the harbor of Quenlaque. The other ship sat directly behind it, within the expanded shield protecting the city. All the weapons as well as the power siphon equipment had been moved to the hidden ship. A false collection dish had been erected at the prow of the decoy ship, facing out to the sea.

  Grego suspected that some of his colleagues had enjoyed setting up the decoy, playing with lights and equipment that surged with power and made noises and disturbances in energy levels that could be detected fifty kilometers out at sea, but didn't do a thing. Edrout had no experience with technology, and whoever came against them in that battleship didn't have a clue what the power siphon was supposed to look like or how it operated. They would focus on the big, flashy, noisy piece of equipment, and hopefully come close enough to be drawn into the trap.

  "Everything depends on Edrout being on that ship," Karstis muttered.

  There was no need for lowered voices, for silenced equipment or stilled engines as they waited for the enemy to take the bait, but they all acted as if Edrout was only a few meters away in the water. Grego decided there was no such thing as too much caution.

  On the other hand, if they were truly going to overdo precautions, shouldn't Emrillian have disembarked and gone up to Quenlaque to wait for her parents to arrive, in safety? She sat beside him now, studying a datapad screen.

  "How are the manikins faring?" Graddon asked. Even the big seer kept his rumbling voice to a muted roar.

  "No fluctuations." She handed the screen to Kayn and he shared it with the team heads from each ship, who sat on the other side of the control cabin and waited with them. "Does everything look steady to you?"

  "It will take years," Delori Proctor muttered, taking the screen Kayn passed on to her. She looked up from the data and cast a crooked grin around the room. "Years to calculate just how you managed to do with a few incantations what we have tried for decades to accomplish. Holographs that are solid enough to react with their environment. Amazing. The advance in technology alone could make us all rich beyond our dreams."

  Grego caught that gleam in Kayn's eyes before he bowed his head to study the data along with Delori. Emrillian was right. They could gain cooperation from all the scientists on this team by offering them challenges and advances and profit, rather than threatening them.

  Graddon had been fascinated by the holographic projectors the scientists used to share information between ships, turning readouts from their equipment into three-dimensional displays. When he tried to touch one, he had expressed disappointment that they weren't solid, Delori had explained that it would take too much energy, too much effort from the computers, to project energy fields strong enough to give the illusion of solidity. After only an hour of discussion, Graddon provided the energy and expanded the memory capacity and calculation speed of the holographic projectors with a few yanks on the Threads. Grego could have sworn the scientist and the seer had developed adolescent crushes on each other while they worked. Graddon certainly had a dopey grin when he looked at Delori, and she sparkled, as she had never done for anyone in Grego's memory, when she looked at the big seer.

  The upshot was that holographic images picked up equipment and made adjustments to the fake power siphon and took care of chores on the decoy ship. Anyone who scanned them would believe that real, solid human beings were on board. And if the ship was attacked, no lives would be lost. Equipment would be destroyed, if Edrout acted the spoiled child and annihilated the ship when he realized he couldn't have the power siphon. Graddon wouldn't be happy to lose his new toys, but equipment could always be replaced, more easily than lives.

  "One kilometer," Shalara reported from her post, where she and Nentor were teamed up to keep the augmented sensors functioning. Grego had always considered her tall and sturdy, perfect for a warrior, but the big scholar made her look small and delicate as they stood together, identical streamers of blue and yellow light streaming from their fingertips to the equipment. She caught her breath and turned to the group seated on the other side of the cabin. "It's Fedarstan."

  "What does that mean?" Graddon said, when the Moertans, including Emrillian, flinched or grimaced or groaned.

  "They could give Edrout a challenge for viciousness." Emrillian got up and paced a few steps up and down the narrow aisle of clear space between the many control panels and the bench seats. "They often close their borders, refusing to let their people visit other countries in Moerta. They rewrite the history books to 'prove' that they are the titular overlords for adjoining territories, and then declare 'justified' war to take back territory that the alleged rebels and outlaws stole from them. They always proclaim themselves the wronged party in any dispute, even if they are the ones who pick the fight or launch insults. No doubt their ruling committee is even now accusing Goarlotte-Welcairn of spying on them and stealing the power siphon technology from them, and they are here to take back their rightful property and punish the thieves."

  "In the past," Kayn offered, sounding almost amused, "they claimed that some of our most eminent scientists and artists were hereditary citizens of Fedarstan, whose ancestors were kidnapped and forced into slavery. Then they make demands for us to repatriate them, along with whatever they created or discovered."

  "And what does the High King
's Court say about such claims?" Graddon said.

  "There is no court. No Moertan overlord court. Nothing that has the authority to mediate between the nations and compel justice," Karstis said. "It's every country for itself."

  "And you people say you're superior to us, that your civilization is an improvement over ours?" Nentor shook his head. "Princess, when your father re-establishes himself as High King, our world will be a much better place."

  "I wouldn't want to rule the world, and I'm sure Papa is weary enough from his past duties and burdens, he doesn't want the world back on his shoulders, either," Emrillian said.

  "Then what are you fighting for, if not to take over again?" Kayn said.

  "The right to keep what is ours, to share with the world as we choose and not as another dictates, to give anyone the freedom to come live among us as they choose. The freedom to keep our magic and not have it stolen from us to power bigger and fiercer and nastier weapons of war." She got up and walked to the control panel to join Shalara and Nentor.

  "Two worlds side by side," Delori muttered. "One of science and technology, the other of magic. Can they co-exist?"

  "They have to," Grego said. "They have for centuries. The fence keeping them from seeing and talking to each other has just been knocked over, that's all."

  "What we need is to raise another fence that will let both sides talk and share, but provide... Privacy? Boundaries that will protect each other's rights?" Emrillian said, looking over her shoulder. "Aren't you afraid of magic invading and destroying all science and technology? Aren't you afraid of the government of Goarlotte-Welcairn being abolished, and society being arranged back into nobles and minor kings and commoners?"