Trail of Rifts

by David Bokman

  Mae and Cad looked at each other, and for a moment, neither one of them were sure that they were going to go through with this. After what felt like an eternity and a half, Cadwell cursed, and said, “Well, somebody’s got to look after them.” Unlike the others, he did not jump into the rift, but simply walked as if he was intending to walk across it, and dropped down into it.

  Moment of truth, Dart, Mae thought, looking at the rift. Everything has led up to this. She took a deep breath, then another, and a final one. Bidding farewell to the north once more, she joined the other heralds and jumped into the rift.

  The first thing that struck Florianna on her descent into the rift was the purple light. It seemed like it strengthened with every inch she fell until it was completely blinding, blocking out all other vision. For a long while, this purple blindness was all she saw. She kept falling, but did not feel the wind hitting her face, nor did she find it hard to breathe. She descended ever deeper, her mind struggling to maintain its grip on reality. Out of nowhere, appearing between one moment and the next, she felt a great cold grip her - a dull, dead kind of cold. The next moment, it was gone, and Na felt something change. It no longer felt like she was falling down into the rift, but like she was somehow falling up. You’re disoriented, that’s all, she thought to herself, but it did not feel that way. It did not feel like anything she could explain. Time had lost all meaning to the young arcanist by now, so she could not say how long she continued this upward fall for.

  Eventually, she could see the purple glow start to fade. Slowly at first, but disappearing quicker and quicker. It did not take long until it had been decreased to a slight purple undertone, and she could start seeing the world once more. This confirmed her suspicions: she was travelling upward. She could just about make out the sky above her coming closer and closer, and she could see rock and stone and dirt on all sides of her, rushing downward. All of it tinted purple by her hazy vision. She continued falling - or was she flying? - until she saw the purple glow strengthen again. But it was not her vision that was playing tricks on her; she was approaching the purple glow of another rift.

  “What the devil— Hey! You! Stay where you are!” The young man did not believe his eyes. A young woman had just been flung out of the rift. He was not well versed in the workings of these rifts, but he had never heard of someone coming out of them, only falling in. “Who are you? What—”

  The young woman had barely crawled away from the rift before another person, this time a small man - an aeni - flew out of it too, landing next to her. The way they were flying out of the rift, it looked as if a giant had thrown them out of it with all its might. “You… you stay where you are, too! Hey! I need help over here!”

  Next out of the rift came a large, muscular man, this one with less speed, but still plenty enough to throw him out of the rift and onto the ground around it. The big man cursed and swore as he landed. “What… how—” A few of the onlooker’s friends had now joined him and were looking at the rift in equal bewilderment.

  After a brief pause, almost long enough to make them think that was all the rift had to offer, a fourth person was hurled out of the rift. She, unlike the others, managed to land on her feet, narrowly avoiding her friends. The man tasked with guarding the rift did not know what to do. Two of his friends ran off, presumably to inform those few who had not been alerted already. His two other friends stood petrified next to him, not moving a muscle. I have to say something, he thought. “Who are you? State your business, and state it fast!” Why did you say that? he thought right after the words left his mouth. ‘State it fast’? What the hell, Maximo?

  The old man, who had by now managed to stand up, looked at Maximo, and grinned. “It either worked, or we’re dead and this is Haara’s punishment for me.”

  Maximo could not tell who the man was speaking to. “Haara’s punishment? I said state your business!” While he did not sound confident, Maximo was happy that he was at least not stuttering. It had taken many years for him to get rid of his stutter, and he was happy to note that it did not show itself even in times of great stress.

  The other rift-fliers also got up and looked around. All of them seemed to share the same look of surprise, relief, and slight confusion. “It worked!” the young woman exclaimed. “It worked!”

  “Not only worked,” said the small man, “It got us right where we needed to be. Hey, guard? Fetch Commander Stonehand for us, will you? Tell him his heralds have returned.”

  Florianna had repeated the same four words over and over in her mind. The rifts are portals. The rifts are portals. She did not know how their magic worked, but somehow the rifts had transported them from northern Vestrok to central Kardh’Ao in… well, she did not know how long it had taken them, but they had been transported, and they had survived. There must be hundreds, no, thousands of leagues between here and Vestrok! This will make the portals in the library and the Townmaster’s Tower look like child’s play! But… why did we appear in this rift specifically? Did the rifts know this was where we needed to go? Was it luck? Was it us who did something? She did not know, but at the moment, she did not care. This is the last piece of the puzzle! This is what The Atlas spoke of! The rifts, we’ve solved them!

  When Samson had uttered the words ‘Stonehand’ and ‘heralds’, the guards had finally broken free of their petrification and told the heralds to stay put before running away further into the grounds. “So, the rifts are some sort of portal, then?” said Sam, as they waited for the guards to return.

  “They’re far worse than the bloody portals,” said Cad.

  “We can’t close them now!” said Na. “We have to tell Stonehand and the Townmaster about this! Can you imagine all the good the rifts could do?”

  Mae, with a blank expression on her face, said, “I’m not sure we should tell anyone about this.”

  “You okay? Mae, we solved the rifts! You should be ecstatic!”

  “We solved one more piece of them,” said Mae, looking down into the rift.

  “Come on Dart, not even a smile?” asked Cad. “Hell, even I feel excited, alive.”

  “I feel ready to take on an army!” agreed Sam.

  “Let’s try our chances! You and me, Sam, against the entirety of the Townsguard. What do you say?” It was hard to tell if Cadwell was joking or not, but at least his broadsword remained sheathed.

  “Heralds!” The voice that called out to them felt faintly familiar. Looking over, they saw Captain Dovan, accompanied by an escort of guards, approaching. “I hear your return has sparked some attention. Come, let’s talk.”

  The Dart had a hard time judging if they were prisoners or visitors as they were escorted through the Townsguard premises before eventually stopping at the Commander’s office. To the heralds’ surprise, the sign at the door was no longer adorned with the name Stonehand, but instead with Dovan. “Where is Stonehand? Did something happen to him?”

  “It did, and not long after you departed, I’m afraid.” Dovan was either a skilled actor, or the grief in his voice was genuine. “The old Commander suffered a heart attack; he was dead before we could do anything. Now it’s up to me to bear his mantle.”

  “He seemed lively enough when last we spoke to him,” said Cad.

  “What are you implying?”

  “We’re not implying anything, just observing.”

  “Right. Well, the only observations I want to hear about are those regarding the rifts. Attila and Zena will join us shortly. The Townmaster thought it best for us to meet here; less attention.”

  “And how is this office treating you, Commander?”

  “Let’s focus on how I can treat you. If you have solid information, I believe a hefty reward is in order.”

  “Such as turning a blind eye to me taking care of a certain nobleman?” Cadwell had been more talkative in the last thirty minutes than the previous week.

  “I’m afraid we can’t allow you to kill Lord Colgrove, no, but you shall be given coin aplenty.”


  Permission or not, Castor will die, Cad thought. I’ve waited long enough, and with the reward, the task will be made all the more simple.

  “What about the rest of you?” asked Dovan. “What do you intend to do with your piece of the reward, granted that we see fit to give it to you?”

  “Books, probably,” said Na.

  “I’ll find someplace far from here and start a tavern,” said Sam. “Samson’s Supper, perhaps, or something like that.”

  “How are things in the city now that Stonehand is gone?” asked The Dart.

  “As good as ever. I admit there was a certain period of… turbulence during the takeover, but that has all been sorted now.”

  In truth, it was far from sorted. No matter what we do to that captured bandit, he tells the same story, Dovan thought. But it cannot be. The Sons eliminated, The Sheep and The New Port working together? No, it was not possible, surely? But it would explain how they had access to the sewers. But a gang in the East joining forces with one in the West, and eradicating a third in the process? That was beyond desperate, beyond absurd. There had to be something more at play. Whatever it was, Dovan would like to figure it out before telling Zena about his findings. She won’t like it, whatever the reason is.

  “Turbulence? What—”

  The door to the office was opened, almost with so much force that it had to be considered a shove. Attila, short of breath, walked through, quickly closing the door behind him. “What did you find out?” He stopped only a foot or two away from The Dart, as the small office was already becoming rather cramped.

  “Nice to meet you again too, Attila!” said Na.

  “How do we close the rifts? What are they? Did you really travel through them?”

  “Lower your voice, Captain. Take a few breaths.” Dovan opened the door, making sure there were no eavesdroppers on the other side, and then closed it once more. “I suggest we hold off on the briefing until Zena gets here, it shouldn’t take long. Make yourselves at home, as best you can.”

  Dovan’s prediction came true; the heralds barely had time to sit down and collect their minds from their journey before Townmaster Zena walked through the door. She looks like she hasn’t slept for the better part of a week, Sam thought. Yet she still looks focused and alert. Perhaps that’s why she’s the Townmaster.

  “Well?” Zena’s tone was sharp and quick. “What do you have for us?”

  “Well…” Na began, “as you no doubt read from our owl—”

  “What owl?”

  “I knew that the owl merchant was a fraud,” said Cadwell. “No matter. First we found a big dead rift, then we tried jumping into an active rift, and that brought us here. So they seem to be connected somehow, allowing you to travel between them. Like those cursed portals you have in your tower.”

  “What Herald Churchcross is trying to—”

  “And how do we close them?”

  “You can’t!” said Na. “Or well, you mustn’t. Not now that we know you can travel through them. We have to continue studying them.”

  “We don’t know how to close them, even if we wanted to,” added Sam. “They cannot be destroyed as far as we know, but we did find one dormant rift, so perhaps they close by themselves after a while? We’re not sure.”

  “So you failed, then.”

  “Townmaster, if I may,” said Attila. “If what they are saying is true, then—”

  “I want them closed. I need them closed. If you cannot help me with that, I have no further use of you.”

  “Townmaster, respectfully, I agree with Attila,” said Dovan. “The rifts, now that people know of them, are causing minimal casualties. Apart from the instances when they appear under buildings or the like, they are barely an inconvenience at all. If Kardh’Ao could figure out a way to tame them, to harness this power, it could be a great boon for us, for you.”

  “And if we don’t figure it out? If these buffoons realized you can travel through them it is only a matter of time until the broader populace does, too. What then? We’re going to have all manner of folk disappearing in one end of the world and appearing in the other. It will be chaos. I want them closed for good.”

  “Excuse me?” said Samson, stepping forward. “I have a suggestion.”

  “Speak.”

  “You give us a week to research the rifts, to see what we can find. Then, after reporting our findings to you, we focus all our efforts on closing them.”

  “I agree!” said Na. “A week won’t do much harm, surely? And, if we find something during this week that changes your perception of things, well, we’ll be glad we waited!”

  Zena looked at her advisors. “Attila? Dovan?”

  “So long as we keep an eye on them, it isn’t a terrible plan.”

  “Very well. Take tonight to rest and gather your strength, you look like you need it. Tomorrow, I will send a guard patrol to watch over you as you conduct your research. If you find something I deem useful, or if you figure out how to close the rifts, you will have your reward.”

  “...And if we don’t?”

  “Then you will only be in my way. I dislike people being in my way. Now go, I have business with the Commander.”

  What am I to tell her? Dovan knew that the Townmaster would expect an update on the bandits, but he was not sure how best to frame it. And if I frame it wrong, Zena will be framing my head on her wall. He sat down at his desk, covered his face with some papers he pretended to skim, and asked, “So, what can I do for you, Townmaster?” How would Stonehand have handled this kind of situation? Brutal honesty probably, the damn fool.

  “What have you learned from your failed mission to eradicate the bandits?”

  “A failure in some ways, a success in others. While we did not manage to quench the bandit presence entirely, we struck a hard blow, and learned much in the process. We learned things so unlikely that, unless I knew the intel was solid, I would consider preposterous.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well…” Dovan lowered the documents he was pretending to read. “We learned that The Sheep are now, strange as it sounds, in league with The New Port. They’re both operating together through the sewers. We thought the humans that were part of the attack at the funeral were from The Sons, but it turns out The Sons have been consumed by the other organizations, and the humans were from The New Port.”

  “I didn’t think the sewer systems of the west and east were connected.”

  “Neither did I, but I confess it has been a few years since I have visited them myself. It is very possible that the sewer rats that call themselves members of The New Port have created a passageway, or perhaps there already was one and we simply did not know of it.”

  “So what you’re telling me is that the problem is even bigger than we thought. Describe to me how that is a success?”

  “You cannot fight what you do not know. And now that we know it covers all of Kardh’Ao, I can work with your cousin Frida and—”

  “Don’t involve her.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Don’t involve her or the Portsguard in this, they’d be of more harm than good, anyway.”

  “As… As you wish, Townmaster.”

  “I’m tired, Dovan. See to it that this gets sorted, so we can move on from it.”

  “Of course. I’m sorry for the delay, Townmaster.”

  “Oh, and one more thing.”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  Zena leaned in closer. “It’s about the heralds, I’m afraid.”

  ⧫ CHAPTER XXIX ⧫

  None of the heralds had bothered taking note of the inn’s name. As long as they have ale and a bed, it’ll do, thought Cad. After what had transpired today, he longed for the simplicity and predictability of an inn. As did they all. Their wishes would be granted; the innkeeper, a big-bellied, loud-laughing woman, gladly served them food and ale.

  “Free of cost, of course!” she laughed. “You heralds keep us all safe, so it’s the least I can do! Hell, even th
e Townsguard look up to you, and they don’t look up to many folk!”

  The innkeeper, Filippa, served them a fish soup that smelled of threadfin and vegetables and warmth, and quickly had to serve Cadwell a second one. Filippa’s ale, she claimed, was not really an ale. “It hails from far beyond the Muddy Coast,” she began, “and is created from strange berries, making it far more potent than your normal ale.”

  Whatever the light, white brew was, it went surprisingly well with the fish soup, and it did indeed have a stronger effect than your usual ale. The heralds remained in the dining room well into the night, all alone save for Filippa and a lone man sitting at a table near the corner of the room. “I admit it!” said Cad, after downing his fourth glass of the brew. “I admit it! I was… I was… skeptical! Skeptical of the whole, the rift thing. But not anymore! I feel…” he stopped, snapping his fingers, looking for the right words, “younger! Far younger! Maybe the… maybe the rift makes you younger?”

  “And the ale probably makes you older to compensate,” said Mae.

  “Not ale!” Filippa was also sipping on a glass of her not-ale.

  “You people…” Cadwell momentarily seemed to be losing the battle against coherent speech, but eventually regained control. “You people… you’re alright.”

  “And you’re dreadful, but we like you anyway,” laughed Sam.

  “Even you are okay, Sam!” Cad did not seem to hear what the young man said. “Even you. You already… you fight good, better than my men did. You can help me kill Castor!”

  Filippa looked up from her ale, not sure if her ears had deceived her or not. The Dart manufactured a laugh, and said, “He’s joking, of course. Not a big fan of nobility, is all.”

  It was unclear if it was due to their conversation or not, but whatever the reason, the lone man seemed to decide now was the time for him to leave the establishment. He stood up, revealing that he was far taller than he had looked sitting down, probably even taller than Cad. Without saying a word, he pulled up his hood and headed out of the door, into the night.