The Rifts of Psyche

by Kyle West

  Lucian thought he could manage that much. It took some time to sit up, and he felt a moment of vertigo as his vision darkened. After a few steadying breaths, his sight returned. Elder Erymmo was holding the bowl before him.

  “Eat slowly,” he said. “We have much to talk about.”

  Lucian took a bite of the soup, which was filled with greens, potatoes, and prawns.

  Elder Erymmo took up the stool nearest Lucian, watching him for a moment. “Things can change in such a short amount of time. It isn’t often we have the Queen’s soldiers in the Greenrift. Led by a Mage-Lord, no less. That they have infiltrated this deeply into the Riftlands is a cause for great worry. Captain Fergus reported heavy armament and at least fifty hoplites, with no less than six Mage-Knights. That is no ordinary slave train. It’s a war party. And they were sent here for one purpose.”

  Lucian already knew the truth, but hearing it stated so boldly only cemented it in his mind. “They were looking for me.”

  Elder Erymmo gave a slow nod. “They still are. You buried the entrance to the Greenrift, but we must collapse the entire tunnel and give up the terraces. At least, we must for now. We have stores to last a few months, which hopefully is enough to see us through. But soon, food will be the least of our worries.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That Mage-Lord and his men are headed here, Lucian. The Deepfork is a three days’ march north of the terraces, and it’s another four-day march down the Deeprift to reach Kiro. And if they are hardy and run much of the way, they might be here even sooner.”

  “So we get our defenses ready,” Lucian said. “We have mages and soldiers too, right?”

  Elder Erymmo’s face was grave. “We do. But the Sorceress-Queen may have more men scouring the rifts than even that group. If two or more groups of them were to join up, I’m afraid we wouldn’t last long. Best case, we defend ourselves at a grievous loss we could never recover from.”

  “But I don’t understand,” Lucian said. “How do they know that I’m in this village?”

  “They might not know you’re in this one, but it wouldn’t take long before they found the right community. There are about a dozen villages like ours in the Deeprift, and we mostly get along. And it may be there’s time to cobble together a decent defense. But we cannot depend on that.”

  “There’s one thing that’s still confusing me,” Lucian said. “How in the Worlds did she get her soldiers this far without us knowing about it? Isn’t Dara a couple of months away at least over land?”

  “It is,” Elder Erymmo confirmed. “I see two possibilities. The Sorceress-Queen’s brands make it possible for her to instantly communicate with anyone who has one, and that would include all her Mage-Lords. It’s unlikely someone of such a high rank would be directly controlled, but the Sorceress-Queen would be able to give and receive information from them, despite distance. In this possibility, she would have had some men already in place in the rifts, in secret. Which I find unlikely. The other possibility, which to me is the more probable one, is that they were carried from Dara by the Queen’s airship, Zephyr.”

  Airship? If they had that, then they could be in the Deeprift faster than Erymmo had suggested. In fact, they could be here at any moment.

  “I see what you’re thinking,” Elder Erymmo said. “The Riftlands are treacherous for an airship’s passage. The mountains bordering the Deeprift are so tall that it will still take a few days to find a pass low enough for the ship to get through without its crew suffocating. The Zephyr has never been sighted this deep in the Riftlands for that very reason, besides the fact that traveling the rifts with its wyverns and strange wind patterns is practically a death wish. Yet even so, we must allow for the possibility, given how much the Queen wishes to find you.”

  Those words only reminded Lucian of his dream. He suppressed a shudder.

  “What do we do then, Elder? How do we fight them off?”

  Elder Erymmo watched him grimly, his expression ashen. Lucian had a similar feeling when the Transcends of the Volsung Academy exiled him. Surely, these people wouldn’t do the same thing, but he wouldn’t be surprised. He had experienced betrayal before, and he already felt the anger building up.

  “As for what we do,” Elder Erymmo said, “that is a matter still to be decided. You must accompany me at once to the Elder Council.”

  “You aren’t going to send me away, are you?”

  On that point, the Elder remained silent. He stood and gestured for Lucian to follow. “Perhaps it is better if we waited until everyone’s in the same place.”

  There it was, then. “No need. I can be out of here in thirty minutes.”

  Elder Erymmo’s eyes widened. “Don’t be foolish. Come with me.”

  Lucian stood on shaky legs and allowed himself to be led out of the hut.

  14

  Lucian tried to ignore the villagers’ stares as he followed Elder Erymmo through the dirt streets of Kiro, but he couldn’t help but look up at the ringing of a hammer at Kieron’s forge. The blacksmith paused his work at his bench to look up. His expression was grave before returning to his labor.

  The path turned from the main drag which led to the meeting hall, instead sloping upward into a tunnel entrance. It wove up a set of stairs until it broke into the open air, a chamber of a cavern with large openings at the top. But at the very center of this chamber was a stream fed by small waterfalls tumbling over the cavern’s sides, and in the center of that stream was an island. A rope bridge led there, and in the middle were a dozen wooden chairs arranged in a circle.

  Six of those seats were occupied; four with the other Elders, and the other two by Captain Fergus and Cleon. Lucian didn’t even have the mind to take in the beauty of the grove. Every one of those eyes were staring at him, and the feeling that this was just like the Transcends wouldn’t go away.

  It was his bad luck to be the holder of one of the Orbs of the Manifold. All too soon, he and Elder Erymmo had crossed the bridge.

  “Be seated,” Elder Ytrib said. “And stop looking like you think we’re going to push you into the river.”

  Lucian sat, deciding it would be best to keep his mouth shut. Every time he said something, he only made things worse.

  Elder Gia’s plump face was friendly, but Lucian didn’t trust that expression. It could easily be a mask for something else. “I trust Elder Erymmo has briefed you?”

  “Regarding the Sorceress-Queen coming after me? Yeah, sure.” Lucian eyed each Elder in turn. If it was going to be a fight, then it would be a fight. Fergus only stared at him disapprovingly, as if not remembering the fact they had fought side-by-side in the Greenrift. Cleon only stared at the ground, his face paler than usual. Like Lucian, it seemed he would rather be anywhere but here. That said, Lucian wondered what exactly Cleon and Fergus were doing here.

  “What we have to say isn’t easy,” Elder Ytrib began, “but it’s necessary. It is a brute fact that the Queen’s Mage-Knights and her minions will be here in a week, or even less. We have less than that amount of time to decide what to do. Ideally, we will reach that decision by tonight.”

  Fergus shifted in his seat. “Elder. I mean no disrespect, but why have we not summoned the most responsible citizens and soldiers to this meeting? It hardly seems fitting that this off-worlder and former Mage-Knight would have a seat on this esteemed council.”

  “They are here, Captain Fergus,” Elder Gia said softly, “because we are the only ones on this moon who know about the Orb of Binding, along with the Sorceress-Queen herself.”

  Lucian looked at Cleon, whose face went even more ghostly. Fergus had mentioned it in the Greenrift, which explained Cleon’s presence.

  “We cannot risk anyone here letting that information out,” Elder Gia finished.

  “As I said before,” Cleon said, “I won’t breathe a word of it. I promise you that on the grave of my parents.”

  Fergus scoffed. “There is more honor among rift adders than a Mage-Knight of D
ara.”

  “Former Mage-Knight,” Cleon corrected. “If you hold my former station against me so much, then why did you let me join the watchmen in the first place?”

  Fergus sighed. “Desperation.”

  “Enough,” Elder Jalisa said, her voice crackling like a whip. “This bickering avails nothing. We must decide what to do about the off-worlder and his Orb.”

  “Simple,” Captain Fergus said. “Give me twenty good men and every mage in this village, and I can escort him to the Darkrift blindfolded and bid him good luck.”

  “Fergus,” Elder Sina said, coming out of her silence with a soft voice. “I would not expect such cruelty out of you.”

  “It’s not cruel,” Fergus said. “It’s for the safety of Kiro. The Queen is after him, so let her follow him into the Darkrift. Kill two gloombats with one javelin, so to speak.”

  “That is the worst possible thing we can do for the safety of Kiro,” Elder Erymmo said. “If ever Lucian falls into the hands of the Sorceress-Queen, she will have a tool so powerful that none can withstand her. We all know what she is capable of with purely her own Psionic magic. Just imagine what horrors she can unleash if she were to get her hands on the Orb of Binding.”

  “Then hand the Orb over,” Fergus said, reaching out a hand to Lucian. “I shall make quick work of it. Nothing can stand up to my shockspear.”

  “Fool,” Elder Jalisa muttered. “The Orb cannot be destroyed. The Prophecy of the Seven states as much.”

  Of all of them here, Elder Jalisa knew the most about Arian’s work. He wondered what she knew that he didn’t, and whether she would share that information.

  “Of course,” she went on, “the work is an incomprehensible babble, but under the influence of the Manifold, it is possible to discern some of the reason behind the madness.”

  “And what, pray tell, is this reason?” Fergus asked. “I mean no disrespect, Elder Jalisa, but the Orbs are a child’s fable. No one believes they truly exist.”

  “Then how do you explain the magic Lucian streamed?” Cleon asked, his voice somewhat shaky. “No one should be able to do what he did, pulling down the mountainside like that! Even you have to believe he killed those wyverns up in the Snake Pass by now.”

  Fergus looked from Cleon, and then back to the Elders. From the relaxation of his features, Lucian could see that he was at last starting to accept Lucian’s abilities with Binding.

  “It’s true I’ve never seen magic of the like,” he said. “If any other Binder streamed to that degree, it would have either killed or frayed them.”

  “I’m glad you see that much sense,” Elder Jalisa said. “If you sensed the purity of his stream, then you would know the truth, Fergus. No poison taints his Binding. He can stream as much as he wishes without ill-effect. That is in accordance with the prophecies of Arian, with the powers accorded to the Orbs of the Manifold.”

  “Not exactly,” Lucian said, his face reddening. He knew he shouldn’t interrupt an Elder, or contradict one, but honesty was important. “Using that much magic still exhausted me, even if the amount of ether was still unlimited.”

  “Mental load,” Elder Ytrib said. “Yes, that takes training, strengthening your Focus to handle multiple streams of varying strength. That only comes with experience.”

  “So, I will always be limited in that way,” Lucian said. “Unless someone can teach me to stream more efficiently.”

  “Maybe so,” Fergus admitted. “I could feel the strength of your Binding Magic. Imagine what you could do if you had a modicum of expertise.”

  Even if it had been Fergus’s aim to insult him, Lucian found himself agreeing. “I need to learn more. I don’t deny that. I’m the last person who should be holding the Orb of Binding.”

  “Then why not relinquish it to one of your betters?” Fergus asked.

  At this, there was a stark silence. Lucian would have thought that any of them would jump at the chance to have it, just like all those Ancients back in the days of Starsea. Indeed, he did see greed in the Elders’ eyes. And fear. Which would win out, he couldn’t say.

  “I will not give up the Orb,” Lucian said. “First of all, I don’t know how to do it. The Orb isn’t a physical object. It’s something that fuses inside you. Getting rid of it might kill me, for all I know. Besides, I can’t be sure of anyone else’s plans for it.”

  “And what are your plans for it, Off-Worlder?”

  “My name is Lucian, Captain Fergus. Please learn my name and treat me with respect. We fought side-by-side today.”

  “Why, you little . . .” Fergus clenched his jaw, but under the scrutiny of the Elders, he relented. “Well, is it not an important question? What does this young man plan to do with such a powerful artifact? What does the Orb of Binding even do? Where did it come from?”

  Lucian saw that he would not only have to catch Fergus up, but Cleon, too. It wasn’t something he wanted to do, but when Elder Ytrib nodded his assent, Lucian saw that it was necessary. Even Elder Jalisa would have gaps in her knowledge, because he hadn’t mentioned every detail about his meeting with the Oracle of Binding. Not even Arian’s words would speak to everything she had said.

  “I still don’t see what this has to do with me,” Cleon said. “I came to Kiro to escape trouble, not find it.”

  “This concerns you,” Elder Sina said. “Remain seated.”

  Cleon crossed his arms. It looked like he might bolt, even with Elder Sina’s warning.

  “I guess I’ll start at the beginning,” Lucian said.

  “Let’s hear it,” Elder Jalisa said. Her dark eyes seemed hungry for knowledge.

  So, Lucian started at the very beginning, with the day he found out he was a mage at the League Health Authority. He didn’t understand why he started there, but they didn’t stop him, even as he related details he believed to be extraneous. They seemed surprised that he had met Vera, when he told her about how she was the teacher of Xara Mallis, though none of them made any comment about it. He told them of his short tenure at the Volsung Academy, his quick progress, and how the Transcends had stabbed him in the back, leading to his exile on the Isle of Madness. And there, he told them of his dreams, how he had come across the Orb of Binding, as well as his meeting with the Oracle.

  And he told them everything the Oracle had said – about the rise and fall of Starsea. He talked about how the Orbs were there from the beginning, and how wars were fought for them. And that if all of them were held by a single being, it would stop the fraying from rotting the minds and bodies of mages, while making the being that held them immortal.

  It was only here that he was interrupted by Fergus. “Impossible.”

  Lucian swallowed his anger. He had to be prepared for dealing with objections, because others might be thinking the same thing. “I thought so too, at first. But then she gave the Orb to me, and everything I’ve been able to do since then confirms that I have it. If I didn’t have it, then how is my Binding stream so pure? How can I do these things that would otherwise be impossible? And why would the Sorceress-Queen be so set on finding me?”

  Fergus didn’t have an answer for all that, though Lucian wished he did.

  Lucian continued his story. He told them about the Vigilants and their ambitions to hold all Seven Orbs, to become the Immortal Emperor, to rebuild Starsea after it had been destroyed by the Swarmers – called by them the Alkasen. There were only two options to stop the fraying and the Alkasen, the cycle of destruction foretold by Arian. The first way was to gather all the Orbs and hold them, becoming the new Immortal Emperor. Or, to take the Orbs to the Heart of Creation, from where they had originated. The Heart of Creation was only reachable through the First Gate deep in Dark Space, the abode of the Alkasen. Only there could the Immortal destroy the Orbs, ending magic and the Starsea Cycle once and for all.

  Once Lucian was done, it was hours later. Night had fallen, and no one made a move to adjourn the meeting. Everyone was quiet and solemn, even Fergus, who seemed at a
loss for words for once. There had been so much information that Lucian was afraid he’d left something out, or even worse, said something incorrectly. Even saying it out loud sounded like pure madness, and he was half-expecting any one of them, or perhaps all, to throw him out of Kiro once and for all.

  But none of them laughed. All just watched him with what seemed to be pity.

  Elder Ytrib was the one to break the silence. “Thank you, Lucian. I would call an end to this council, were this not a matter of such gravity. But as it stands, we cannot disperse until we decide what we are going to do about the Orb. Every second that passes, the Sorceress-Queen’s agents draw nearer.” He paused to look at him, and Lucian got the feeling a hammer was about to fall. “You can’t remain in Kiro, Lucian. The Sorceress-Queen would just find you here. But there is nowhere on all of Psyche for you to go. This world is a prison, and wherever you run, the Sorceress-Queen will hunt you down. Be it days, weeks, months, or years, she will one day find you.”

  Everyone nodded at that, and it sent peals of dread down Lucian’s spine.

  “There is only one clear answer,” Elder Jalisa said, her eyes sad as she watched him. “As crazy as it sounds, it’s the only thing that makes sense.” Everyone watched her, looking for some shred of hope in the situation. Elder Erymmo was already nodding, as if he had guessed where she was going.

  “It’s said that the Orb of Psionics is somewhere on this moon. Arian mentioned an Ancient named Shantozar who came here, one of the seven Oracles of Starsea. Or at least, he came to a world that matches the description of this one. The pertinent part he wrote reads thus:

  * * *

  “Under the White World with red-whorl eye,

  Upon a moon of violet, violent sky;

  Peers beneath Burning Sands and wind,

  Lies the Amethyst of Starsea within.”

  * * *