The Rifts of Psyche

by Kyle West

  She snuggled even closer. Well, now there was nothing he could do. If he tried to create some space now, then he would be “insulting” her.

  “I think you’re just making that up.”

  “Not at all.”

  “Then if Ramore were to see this, he’d be fine with it? Were you guys together or something?”

  She giggled. “Well, I admit he probably wouldn’t be fine. Then again, it’s hard to live with someone who’s in his state. He’s . . . not right in the head anymore.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s life,” she said. “Well, thanks for humoring me. I think I’m ready to sleep now.”

  Her breaths were almost immediately even with sleep. Now that she was quiet, Lucian found he had a million questions for her, mostly about Psyche itself. Such information could save his life down the line.

  But he was also tired. He closed his eyes, the warmth of her body lulling him to sleep.

  When the morning’s rays illumined the underground shelter, he and Serah had somehow ended up holding each other, to the point where there was plenty of available space in the cavity. The air around them was cold, so the surface had to be even more frigid. After Volsung, though, nothing would ever feel truly cold to him. He had to admit her warmth felt good, but at some point it had to come to an end. He couldn’t let himself enjoy it too much. He still wasn’t sure of her, and likely wouldn’t be seeing her again after today if she was still keen on leading him to Kiro.

  Her eyes lazily opened, blinking in the light of the dusty sunbeams falling between cracks of rubble. She looked at him a moment, registering he was there, before shifting to stand and boost herself out of the hole. In a moment, all the warmth between them dissipated.

  “Can’t we sleep in a little longer?” he asked.

  She gave a short chuckle. “Can’t get enough of me now, huh? I would, sunshine, but we’ve got a long day ahead of us. Unless you intend to join me and Ramore back at the cave.”

  No, he most certainly didn’t intend on that.

  “We need to get moving. It’ll warm you up, and it’s coldest in the early morning, especially here in the Upper Reaches. The mountain air is thin. But we’ve got to get moving if you’re to make Kiro before nightfall. And I’ll need to find shelter for the night.”

  Lucian followed her out, finding that the gray daylight of the surface was indeed cold. They stood close, and despite her lack of layers, she didn’t seem affected by the chill. A mountain woman, or perhaps a cavewoman, through and through.

  “Are all women here like you?”

  She laughed. “No. There’s no one like me, not in all the Rifts of Psyche.” She pointed toward the pass, which was now a mountain of rubble. “Today’s task is getting out of this pass and on your way to Kiro. Thing is, they don’t let just anyone in.”

  “So, how do I get let in?”

  She pointed toward the sharp rocks Lucian had used to skewer the wyverns. He could see what remained of the wyverns’ twisted, mangled corpses in the violet morning light.

  “If we harvest a trophy from those, it might be enough to convince the Elders you’re worth it. The venom in their fangs is especially prized. Not every mage can kill one of those things, after all.”

  “You have a knife to cut it?”

  She produced a dark, obsidian knife. “This’ll do. Once done, we’ll be on our way. Ramore should be good on his own till tomorrow, and I know how to take care of myself. You don’t live as long as me unless you know what you’re doing.”

  “All right, then,” he said. “Lead the way.”

  They began by hopping along the broken boulders toward the wyvern carcasses, a sort of dance in the low gravity. Though Serah never explicitly said, it seemed she was racing him. She was always one step ahead, adroitly leaping from one broken boulder to another, her blonde hair streaming behind.

  “So, you still haven’t told me,” she called back. “How does a little mage boy like you tear down cliffs like this? If the Elders of Kiro ever hear of it, they’ll think you’re mad with the fraying.”

  Lucian stopped and feigned the need to breathe, to have more time to prepare his answer. “In life-or-death situations, people are capable of incredible things.”

  “That’s a slippery answer if I’ve ever heard one. What’d they teach you on Volsung, and might I learn it?”

  Lucian laughed, but thankfully, Serah seemed to tire of the subject soon enough. She was scaling the cliff leading up to the wyvern remains. Lucian took note of her path and followed her.

  Despite where he was, and how dire the situation, he couldn’t help but smile. At least here on Psyche there was some measure of freedom, even if he had almost died twice by now. At this rate, he wouldn’t last long.

  He knelt next to Serah, who was slicing off a fang with gusto. It was at least a full meter long. Lucian’s stomach churned just watching.

  “Try not to poke yourself with it,” she said, handing it to him. “Just a drop of that venom will paralyze you for hours. Two drops will kill you.”

  “What about the other fangs? Should be three more, right?”

  “Well, if you wish to search for them, you are welcome to it. I’m not allowed to trade with the Deeprift Villages. Not officially, anyway. I’ll come back later to harvest them.” Her nose wrinkled. “For now, though, I’d rather step away from this stink.”

  They made their way down the cliffs, and Serah shared her water and food with Lucian. He marveled that she had thought to bring both with her last night; she likely never went anywhere without them, and for that he was grateful. He drank deeply from her canteen, while eating some mystery meat wrapped in some flatbread. He didn’t want to ask what it was, but at this point, he didn’t care. He was starving.

  “Helpless as a babe,” she said, her eyes playful.

  “Would a baby have killed two wyverns?”

  “No, probably not,” she admitted. “It’s just so easy to make fun of you. You rise to the bait every time. We should keep moving.”

  They picked their way over the boulders, taking most of the morning to get through the buried pass. It got a little brighter, and the clouds never really went away. Serah would stream antigrav discs for them to cross gaps more easily.

  “Thought you said you could fly,” Lucian said.

  “I can. But I wouldn’t want to leave you behind.”

  “Oh, I see. Well, why don’t you give your arms a few flaps?”

  She just gave a secretive smile. “Doesn’t exactly work like that, but maybe someday.”

  They had now reached the same trail Lucian had followed last night. The sky, like yesterday, was filled with those strange, violet clouds, so thick that the sun was not visible.

  “Does the sun ever come out?” Lucian asked.

  She laughed. “If you go high enough. Of course, I hear the skies are clearer if you go Planetside.”

  “Planetside?”

  “Psyche is tidally locked. You know what that means, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, we’re Voidside right now. Psyche’s atmosphere is thick, so you can’t see the sun unless you scale the highest mountains. Which is impossible to do, as the air’s only truly breathable in the rifts.”

  “So where are we in relation to all that?”

  “Here, we might be a third of the way from the bottom.” She pointed to the ridge behind her. “That might not look too high, but behind that ridge is one taller. That’s how it is here. You can only see so far because of the haze. I don’t really know what it’s like on other worlds. I’ve only had it described to me.”

  “I wish I could show you South Shoal in Miami.”

  “I remember. Lots of sun and a whole ocean of water, right? Almost enough to make me think you were telling tales.”

  “Oh, it’s very real.” He noted her pale skin. “You would roast alive.”

  “Sounds lovely. Are there mountains in Miami, too?”

  “It’s flat,�
� he said. “Lots of buildings and people.”

  She shuddered. “Oh, I would hate that. Sounds like Dara.”

  “Dara is the city you talked about, right?”

  “Yes. The seat of the Sorceress-Queen of Psyche. It lies in the Golden Vale, just before the Mountains of Madness. You should be careful with anyone from the Golden Vale, Lucian. Their slavers sometimes come into the Riftlands, and you’ll know them from their spears and armor of bronze. And their Mage-Knights wear colored robes and carry spears, too. If you see anything like that, you should run.”

  Lucian clearly had a lot to learn. “There’s a queen here?”

  She sighed and shook her head. “You ask too many questions. Just stay away from the Queen’s slavers. They aren’t often seen in the Riftlands, especially this deep, but we are eternally at war with them.”

  By late afternoon, Lucian could better see the interior of the rift plunging toward the fathomless depths below. Even in full daylight, that bottom was lost to distance. Looking upward, he could see the steep slopes of the mountains blocking out most sunlight. The terrain rose impossibly high until the tops were lost in a violet haze.

  He could discern trails crisscrossing down each side of the rift, though there seemed to be no clear way across. There were trails hundreds of meters above and below them on both sides. Even some greenery was beginning to cling to the rift’s sides, with tiny waterfalls that were quickly reduced to mist and cloud.

  As they walked down the trail, Lucian couldn’t help his curiosity. “Is the entire moon like this?”

  “Hardly. Voidside is mostly mountains and rifts, like this. Usually there’s a deep lake at the bottom of those rifts. They say the land gets flatter the farther Planetside you go. Once Planetside, you’re beyond the Mountains of Madness and Dara, in what’s called the Westlands. Beyond that, they say there’s lands called the Fire Rifts. And beyond even that, with the planet Cupid taking up almost all the sky, is the Burning Sands. They say it’s a hellish wasteland with no trace of water, with open cracks belching smoke and lava. Nobody in their right mind goes there.”

  “So, what you’re saying is that this is the most habitable part of Psyche.”

  “No. That would be the Golden Vale, where Dara is located. It’s warm enough from Cupid’s extra light, with flatter land to build on and farm, and has some rivers. These are wild lands here. But it’s here that we’re safe from the Sorceress-Queen and her slavers.”

  Lucian wanted to ask more, but Serah seemed melancholy. So, he was content to be quiet and take in the new world with his own eyes. After his cell on board the Worthless, Psyche might as well have been paradise. The land was harsh, but that harshness also had breathtaking beauty. It was the last thing he’d expected. He’d imagined something much like the Isle of Madness on Volsung, only worse.

  But he knew for all its beauty, there was even more danger. The wyverns and Ramore were evidence of that, and that had only been his first day.

  “Can I ask you a question?” Lucian asked.

  “You just did.”

  “Why are you helping me? It has to be inconvenient, right?”

  She sighed. “I have my reasons. Besides, no one survives here on their own. Not for long.”

  “You have.”

  “Not without help. People have taught me. My father . . .” She trailed off. Whatever it was she had been about to say, she decided it was better not to say it. From the prickly look on her face, Lucian didn’t prod further.

  They walked all afternoon, descending deeper into the rift. The gathering darkness was more due to the rift’s sides blocking the sun than the onset of evening. Only a thin sliver of sky remained. Lucian wondered how anyone could live in such darkness. Perhaps there were fewer wyverns down here.

  Serah was whistling a merry tune when Lucian spied two human forms round a bend. She gave no reaction, so Lucian figured it was safe. Lucian watched as they approached the two men, old, wizened, and weather-beaten. They each had a curious tattoo on their forehead, and his hackles rose at that. But Serah was still acting as if everything were normal. The brand was in the shape of a snake, or perhaps an eel. The old men stood aside to let them pass without a word, their wrinkled faces cautious and eyes suspicious.

  “Good afternoon,” Lucian said.

  One shook his head disapprovingly, while the other clenched his jaw.

  Once out of earshot, Lucian looked back. “Not friendly, are they?”

  “No,” Serah said. “Technically, you shouldn’t even be speaking to me.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Frays are outcasts. Shunned and forgotten. We can’t speak to Rifter folk, nor can we trade with them. The Snake Rifters abide by the same laws as the Deeprifters. Most of them, anyway.”

  “That’s harsh.”

  “In short, it would look bad if you were seen with me, so I’ll let you go when you’re close enough to be safe.”

  “When will that be?”

  “Oh, about an hour or two. What, missing me already?”

  But Lucian’s mind was on other things. “You’re taking a risk by helping me. What if those two men tell their rift about you and me?”

  “They’re from Snake Rift. Not really my concern.”

  “What are they doing out here, then? This is the Deeprift, right?”

  She shrugged. “Not my business.”

  Lucian looked over his shoulder, but the two old men were lost to view. The mist had shrouded them.

  It was hard not to feel bad for Serah. He kept that feeling to himself, though. Serah would be none too pleased with that sentiment. She walked proudly, almost too proudly, as if she were aware that Lucian saw her differently now.

  “The social system here makes no difference to me,” Lucian said. “In fact, it sounds a bit unfair. I’m not going to shun you, no matter what people say.”

  “If you want to be accepted by Kiro, then you must.” They walked a few steps more. “Let me tell you, I did my share of shunning in my day. Maybe I deserve it.”

  The rest of the trip continued in silence, and Lucian was left wondering what he did, or said. Until he realized that he was dealing with someone with a lot of pain and rejection. Maybe she was upset that he could go where she could not.

  At some point, the trail leveled off into a long, narrow gorge. Lucian saw several large caves up in the cliffs, some of which had lights. Mountains towered almost vertically around them, with only a narrow sliver of clouded light shining down from what had to be kilometers above.

  “This is where my path ends,” she said. “They’ll kill me if I take one step more.”

  She nodded toward a signpost with a symbol Lucian would have recognized anywhere – the Septagon, each point holding one of the Seven Aspects of Magic. It seemed to be a universal sign of mages, the Manifold, and magekind. He almost wanted to ask Serah about it to confirm, but her feet were already pointing up the trail. He didn’t understand how she survived without shoes here, but somehow, she made it work. She still had a fair distance to walk back to the cave, and it looked as if she was ready to be off.

  “This is where our paths part, Lucian. May the fraying be kept far from you, and sanity close at hand.”

  She turned to go, taking a few steps before Lucian called.

  “Hey!”

  She half-turned. “What? Were you expecting a goodbye kiss?”

  He blinked in surprise. “No. It’s just . . . I don’t know. Never mind.”

  She gave a small, sad smile. “Well, don’t be too sad. We’ll always have the wyverns. If for some reason they don’t let you in, the valley here is generally safe from predators. There’s probably some bush you can hide in until daylight.”

  “I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  “Quit your dallying. Don’t tell them you met me. And when they ask how you killed the wyverns, don’t mention how much you wrecked the pass. That’ll lead to questions.”

  Again, he got the feeling she knew more than she let on. Bu
t he didn’t want to explore that possibility.

  “Goodbye, Serah. And thanks.”

  She nodded, then walked up the trail into the gathering gloom.

  5

  Lucian followed the trail toward the light radiating from the massive cavern entrance. It was as Serah had said. A wooden wall, about five meters tall, together with a gate closed off the entire entrance. Two wooden outposts rose from beside the gate, each containing a guard wearing leather armor, each armed with a spear and bow. Lucian felt their eyes boring into him as he approached. He tried not to think about what a pathetic figure he cut in his prison jumpsuit, scraggly hair, and unkempt beard. Even for this world, he probably looked rough.

  “Who goes there?” one of the guards called, who had a trim goatee. “What brings you to the gates of Kiro?”

  Lucian held up a hand in what he hoped was a sign of peace. The guards stood straighter, each keeping a hand on the bow mounted to their backs. Seeing that, it took great effort for Lucian to not reach for his Focus. If they were mages, and anything like Serah, they might be able to detect it. It was basically the same thing as throwing up his fists.

  “My name is Lucian,” he said. “Lucian Abrantes. Yesterday, my pod crashed in the Upper Reaches. I followed the trail down here.”

  The guards exchanged a glance. The original one turned back to him. “And what do you want with Kiro?”

  “Shelter,” Lucian said. “It’s getting dark, and I don’t want to die to wyverns tonight.”

  “The wyverns don’t hunt this low,” the guard scoffed. “The thick air slows their flight too much.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “It’s lucky that you found us without the benefit of a guide. We’ve had reports of several pods falling in the Upper Reaches, but you would be the first to arrive at our gates.”