The Rifts of Psyche

by Kyle West

  He was about to reach his door when he noticed someone standing out front. “Who’s there?”

  Lucian streamed a light sphere to find Morgana standing at his door.

  8

  “Lucian. I’m sorry, but there’s something you should know.”’

  Her dark eyes were sincere with no sign of her former mischief. Something had happened.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s Captain Fergus,” she said. “I overheard him talking to some of the guards. They are going to humiliate you in front of everyone tomorrow.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Well, I heard him talking to Gabriel. They are going to do their best to make you look incompetent. Like you don’t belong here.”

  Again, Lucian didn’t know what that meant. “Are they going to set me up somehow, or . . .?”

  “I don’t know,” Morgana said. “I only came here to tell you to watch your back. Elder Ytrib told my family to take you under our wing, so to speak. I’m just doing my part.”

  “I see. Well, I appreciate the warning.” Why did he get the feeling that this was just an excuse for her to come out and see him? He already knew Fergus was up to no good.

  “I’m sure you’ll be able to handle him. You killed two wyverns, after all. But Fergus is a proud man and doesn’t like being shown up.”

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  “Take care.”

  When she left, she brushed by him closely enough to make him wonder whether she had done it on purpose. There was something strange about her, but again, he just couldn’t place his finger on it.

  He entered the hut, took off his boots, and went straight to sleep.

  He saw a golden city at the foot of an impossibly tall mountain range. Those mountains reached into the clouds like daggers, the bottoms of their steep slopes holding towers and palaces. Between two peaks was a wide tunnel at least a hundred meters across and just as tall, situated high above the city but nowhere near the mountains’ peaks. That city was a sprawling mass, buildings crowding around stone roads zigzagging up slopes and terraces. Green farms were carved into the mountains, until that greenery was lost to the stone above.

  Even with the grandiosity of the city, what he longed to know was what lay beyond that tunnel, that pass through the mountains the city was guarding.

  Lucian flew closer, passing over the city’s high stone walls, outfitted with towers that held cannons. He zoomed above the winding cobbled streets, all empty of people, though there were hundreds of carts and stalls in the plazas and alleys as if it were a market day. His trajectory seemed to be taking him ahead, toward the slopes of the mountain flanking the city’s right, where above its sprawl rose the largest palace of all. Its walls were high, shining golden with a hundred towers, all connected by bridges and halls and wings. Who needed such a place? He had no doubt that this palace was real, only he didn’t know what, or where, it was.

  That was when the sky darkened. The golden light became hidden as the sun sunk on the opposite side of the mountains. As he drew even closer to the palace, all its windows were dark. All save one. A light shone in a single window of the highest and grandest tower, a beacon in the gathering gloom.

  And standing in the center of that light, a shadow. And the shadow was watching him.

  Panic seized him. This was a dream. He had to wake up from it, before . . . before what? What could be done to him in a dream?

  Come closer, a female voice said. I’ve waited for this moment for so long. The Manifold has brought you here. The Manifold has brought the Chosen!

  The Chosen? Was the voice another Oracle? But what would an Oracle be doing in this place, an obviously human-made palace?

  Come, Chosen. Tell me about your long journey here. I can help you find what you’re looking for.

  He didn’t know who this was, but he did know he needed to get out of here. As much as he tried to force himself awake, the dream kept its hold over him. What kind of power was this? He was trapped, pulling ever closer to the shadow in the tower, the source of the voice.

  Lucian reached for his Focus but couldn’t access his magic. Was he being blocked, or was it simply impossible to stream in a dream? He drew closer to the shadow in the tower window, powerless to resist, until he was near enough to see the outlines of a feminine form.

  The last thing he wanted was to see her, speak to her, or tell her about himself.

  He reached for his Focus again, this time pushing with all his might to access his ether. Even if he could get a trickle of magic flowing, enough to break him free . . .

  You don’t wish to fight me, Chosen. I’m far too powerful. Wouldn’t you rather have me as an ally? Why do you fear me so?

  Because, Lucian responded, you won’t let me leave.

  Not because I wish you harm. The stakes are too high. Though distance separates us, the Manifold desires this meeting.

  Lucian didn’t understand how she – whoever she was – was speaking to him like this. A Psionic link wasn’t supposed to work unless two people had met face-to-face and had already shared a link. Which meant one of two things – he had met this person before, or she was doing something with magic that should have been impossible. Then again, perhaps dreams worked differently. After all, the Oracle of Binding had spoken to him in his dreams, and he had certainly never met her. And there was that mysterious Voice that had told him to find the Orbs, the Voice he hadn’t heard from in months. The Voice the Oracle of Binding had said was the former Immortal Emperor of Starsea. Lucian couldn’t believe that. How could such a thing be possible?

  He was just meters from her now, her form still hidden by shadow. He could see the faint outline of her face, along with dark violet eyes that pulled him in with hypnotic gravity.

  We were meant to meet, Chosen. The stars have spoken of it. The Manifold has wished for it. Our fates are intertwined, whether you will it or not.

  At that moment, visions danced in his head. Though he could not see her face, he saw that she was a woman of surpassing beauty. He saw himself standing at her side. Together, they could rule this moon with justice and power. They would bring the disparate factions of this world together, make them into a force that would bring the League to its knees. Together, they would make the League pay for what it had done to the mages. The mages would have their revenge, would rule the billions of humanity in an unassailable aristocracy.

  Was that his dream, or hers? It was hard to tell the difference. All he knew was that with him, the Chosen, and her, the Queen of Psyche, they could not fail. He, with the Orb of Binding along with the Orb of Psionics . . .

  The Orb of Psionics? Where had that thought come from?

  Yes, she said. I know where it is, Chosen. And it can be yours, if only you work with me and dream big things. I have seen your thoughts, and I know it is your fate to find the Aspects of the Manifold. You with the Orbs, and with me training you, it would be a simple thing to take revenge on those who sent you here. And that would only be the beginning. It is your fate to find all the Orbs, not a mere two. And it is my fate to help you in this endeavor. You are the Chosen. You are the Worlds’ only hope. Together, we can do great things. Things Xara Mallis could scarcely dream of.

  For all she’d said, Lucian could only focus on one part. The Orb of Psionics is here?

  Yes, she said. The Ancient Shantozar built his shrine here and hid his treasure in the Burning Sands at the close of the Age of Madness. Yes, I know of that. And more. Shantozar has spoken to me the secrets of Starsea. But he will not show me where his Orb lies until the Chosen has come. And he prophesied that I would feel the Chosen falling on this moon with thunder and power. She paused, as if gathering her thoughts. That happened two days ago. I sensed a great uproar in the ethereal field, as something drew an incredible amount of ether into itself. An Orb-wielder had come. The Chosen had come! Lacking a true Psionic link, I could only home in on that power through my dreams, where a part of the mind of all m
ages goes during sleep. That is how I found you.

  So, she knew everything he did. Or nearly everything. Using the Orb did have a cost. It would seem other mages could detect it if they were sensitive to the ethereal field. He would have to be careful with it in the future, and only use it if he had to.

  The Orb of Psionics is yours, she said. But you need me to find it, as I need you to fulfill my own goals. I daresay our goals align very much. Come to the Golden Palace in Dara. We can speak more in person, and you will see how our plans are one and the same.

  The Golden Palace of Dara. That had to be where this was. And if this woman were speaking to him from there, then there was only one person she could be.

  Everything I do, I do for the betterment of magekind, the Sorceress-Queen said. My plans will be apparent once we meet in person. I’m unwilling to say more in a dream, Chosen. With the power of the Orbs, we can bend the galaxy to our will. Mages will be free of the fraying, and we can stand at the fore of a new golden age for humanity.

  How could this possibly be real? This is insane. I just want off this world!

  You wish to leave this moon. I understand. That wish will be granted . . . in time. Control of Psyche and the greatest population of mages in the Worlds is only a small part of the plan. But first, we must find the Orb of Psionics. With its power, we can take command of the defense platforms and League fleet stationed above us. While you may be the one to wield it, you will need me to teach you the properties of Psionic Magic. And there is none more accomplished in the Worlds at that than me.

  Lucian was at a complete loss for words. How could he ever agree to anything so outlandish? And yet, it seemed she was completely serious. One thing he did know was that he could never work with her, not with Serah’s warnings about the Queen so fresh in his mind. How did he know she wouldn’t try to take control of him with her magic? Mind control was one of the powers of the Psionic Aspect, and if the Sorceress-Queen were truly one of the most powerful Psionics in the Worlds, then what was to stop her from doing it?

  She seemed to anticipate this rejection, or perhaps, to read his mind about it. Even if I meant to control you, that is not my goal. You are a Vigilant of Starsea, the Chosen, and a powerful mage at that. I would require a weaker vessel, a weaker mind.

  That didn’t do much for Lucian’s assurances.

  Come to Dara. We will speak more, Lucian.

  The Sorceress-Queen was already turning away from the window, and the dream faded.

  9

  Lucian awoke to deep darkness, the images of his dream swimming before his eyes. The only light came from outside the window, from the torches along the lakefront.

  As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he knew the dream to be real. The Sorceress-Queen had somehow visited him, and more than that, they needed each other to find the Orb of Psionics. At least, according to her. And she had left more questions than answers.

  Only one thing was sure. He didn’t believe for one moment that she had his best interests at heart, especially after what Serah had told him. Why would she want him to rule by her side without even knowing him?

  But still, she knew things she shouldn’t have known about Starsea and the Orbs. And for that reason alone, she might be telling the truth, or at least part of the truth. If she really knew how to find the Orb of Psionics, then he needed to visit her. But how to do so and guarantee his safety? The fact that she knew he had an Orb himself was dangerous. She could kill him and take the Orb for herself.

  But what if she were telling the truth? That was frightening in its own way. It seemed she wanted to use him to find the Orb of Psionics and use the Orb of Psionics to “take control” of the League Fleet above them. Was such a thing really possible, even with an Orb? If it was, then that was terrifying. He wasn’t interested in her vision of fighting back against the League. All he wanted was to get off this moon, hopefully with the Orb of Psionics in his possession without starting a new Mage War.

  But if that wasn’t possible, what then? Lucian couldn’t say. All he knew was, as it stood, he would have to work with her, or at least gain more information. But the Sorceress-Queen wouldn’t give him anything freely, and he would have to help her with her plans. Even if he was stronger than her in Binding, she was stronger than him in everything else.

  Lucian thought about it for a while and was unable to go back to sleep. So, he got up, got dressed, and left the hut. It was impossible to say what time it was, but it felt as if four or five hours had passed since he went to bed. He was still exhausted, but there was nothing to be done about that.

  He was walking toward the main part of the village when he noticed an old man sitting by the light of one of the lakeside torches. As Lucian got closer, he recognized Elder Erymmo. Lucian wondered what he was doing down here.

  Erymmo turned from where he had been staring at the lake and stood at Lucian’s approach. His long gray hair, beard, wrinkled skin, and thin form made him look quintessentially wizard-like, what Lucian thought every mage looked like before he learned he was one himself.

  “Lucian,” he said. “Walk with me. There are things we must discuss.”

  It was as if Erymmo had been waiting for him. He remembered something Elder Ytrib had said about Lucian being tested for signs of fraying, so maybe that was happening. Lucian fell in beside the elderly man, and they made their way back toward Lucian’s hut. Neither said a word, though Lucian’s curiosity was stoked when they walked beyond the hut, and the Elder streamed a light sphere by which to see.

  The trail grew rougher as the path descended deeper into the cavern, following the fast-moving stream. Elder Erymmo set a fast pace, and Lucian was hard-pressed to keep up.

  “Where are we going, Elder?”

  Lucian’s only answer was silence.

  The trail branched off, and they found themselves in a grove of rocks and underground growing plants, mostly glowing mushrooms growing in damp corners. Water ran down the walls in small rivulets, the tiny streams joining a tributary that trickled toward the main flow of water.

  Erymmo nodded toward a small, fist-sized rock at the center of the grove. “Lift that rock using Binding.”

  Lucian reached out his hand and reached for the Binding Aspect. He anchored the rock and set a focal point on the stalactite-encrusted ceiling. The rock lifted, following a thin tether. About halfway up, Lucian slowed the stream, where the pull of the focal point equaled that of gravity pulling the rock downward. The rock levitated, remaining perfectly still.

  “That’s a beautiful tether,” Erymmo commented. “Steady. Sure. And you didn’t stream more than necessary. You may release your stream; I don’t wish to exhaust you.”

  In fact, Lucian was nowhere near exhausting himself. He could feel the Binding Aspect pulsing with power, but he wasn’t even tapping into the Orb of Binding now. The ether flowed as steady and clean as the stream in this cavern. He cut the stream, and the rock fell to the ground, seemingly in slow motion due to the lower gravity.

  “Now,” Erymmo said, “do the same thing, but with a Psionic stream. You need not hold it steady.”

  Lucian reached for the Psionic Aspect, streaming a burst of magic, focusing it on the underside of the rock. It shot into the air, bouncing of the ceiling before falling back down.

  “Good. A light sphere?”

  Lucian took a deep breath. He’d never had to switch between Aspects this quickly, but he found it good practice. He streamed the sphere, weaker than Erymmo’s. Once he’d held it about five seconds, Erymmo nodded.

  “That’s all your primaries and secondaries,” he said. “Your streams of your secondaries are fairly clean. But the purity of your Binding stream is like nothing I’ve ever seen. Not in all my years.” Erymmo’s bushy gray eyebrows shot up, as if demanding an explanation.

  “How are you able to follow my streams so closely?” Lucian asked. “I was never taught to do that.”

  “That’s quite elementary,” he said. “So long as you aren’t be
ing blocked, you can reach your Focus to another mage’s stream and follow it. You can even allow the other mage to control your Focus as well.”

  “Why would I ever do that?”

  “Two streaming as one can be more powerful, and it can allow a more experienced mage to take the lead. But it also requires a great deal of trust. Joining streams is called confluence.”

  “Of course,” Lucian said. “I think I’ve locked onto another mage’s stream before without realizing what I was doing, but I didn’t know it was possible to add to another’s stream. What about blocking, though? Others have been able to cut off my magic before, but I don’t know how they did it.”

  “That is advanced, a subset of a technique called branding,” Erymmo said. “It’s quite simple to stream a Psionic ward to counter that. I’d be happy to show you if time allows it. But for now, it’s more important that you learn about wards. You must understand those before you can learn brands.”

  Lucian hadn’t expected this impromptu lesson, but he welcomed it. He would have had to wait for years at the Academy to get access to this knowledge. “What’s a ward, then?”

  “A ward is what we call a passive stream. It exists without your active engagement for a certain amount of time – from hours, to days, or even longer for more powerful ones. Wards require a portion of your total ether supply. It’s a trade-off. You’ll have less ether overall to use for active streams, but you will also be defended from attacks of the Aspect the ward is designed to protect you from.”

  “I see,” Lucian said, wondering if a Psionic ward could have kept the Queen from paying him a visit in his dreams. “So, how do I do it?”

  “Wards require two streams at a minimum. A Psionic ward, for example, needs to be set with a Gravitonic or Binding shell, each coherent to the other. The coherence allows the streams to push each other along, so to speak, allowing them to last in the world without actively streaming it. Think of wards as insurance to make sure another mage doesn’t catch you unawares. Of course, it requires judiciousness. If you know another mage’s strengths, you can create wards that counteract that strength ahead of time, since most enemy mages will choose to attack you with their primaries, or if they’re strong enough in them, their secondaries.”