The Rifts of Psyche

by Kyle West

  Lucian got his meaning. He dug into his pack until he found some food, not recognizing half of the ingredients. Well, Cleon wanted him to cook breakfast, so that was what he would do. He filled the cookpot with some water and enough vegetables and meat for three people and set it over the fire. Half an hour later, it smelled all right enough.

  Fergus stirred, and woke, sleepy-eyed. The three gathered around the fire to eat, which had burned to embers by now.

  “You let the fire get too low, Cleon,” Fergus said, taking a bite of the soup. His eyes widened as he sputtered. “Dear God. How much caro pepper did you put in that?”

  “Enough to give you a fire,” Cleon said. “Lucian, how’d you know I liked my food spicy?”

  Lucian shrugged. “Just a hunch.”

  When Lucian took his first bite it felt as if he’d been kicked in the mouth. Cleon laughed uproariously.

  “All right,” Fergus said, mouth hanging open. “I’m responsible for the cooking from now on.”

  Lucian still felt the heat an hour later, when they were following the trail to the Upper Reaches. The tracks were so evident that even Lucian could have followed them. It seemed the Sorceress-Queen’s war party wasn’t concerned about being followed. That made Lucian uneasy. It reminded him of what Kieron had said about the wyverns, that they didn’t look up because they had no fear of being hunted.

  When they crested a final rise, the land flattened considerably, though it still sloped upward. There was no life up here, and the surface was bare and gray, with the distant slopes lost to violet mist. The air blew cold, making Lucian shiver. Compared to the bottom of the Deeprift, this was a different world entirely.

  “The Upper Reaches,” Fergus said, throwing a fur mantle over his armor. “Things are about to get more dangerous.”

  “The tracks go this way,” Cleon said. “Straight into the fog.”

  “Quiet,” Fergus said. “We might be getting close.”

  Cleon blew a raspberry, but didn’t offer a rebuttal.

  For the first time since arriving on Psyche, Lucian was out of the Deeprift. Even though he was breathing heavily, he just couldn’t get enough air.

  “Can we stop for a second? I’m getting lightheaded.”

  To his surprise, they slowed down. He breathed deeply.

  “Stay hydrated,” Fergus said.

  Lucian drank from his canteen, though it didn’t do much for his altitude sickness. And it would only get worse as they climbed higher.

  “Your friend has a good set of lungs on her,” Cleon said. “I feel a bit winded myself.”

  “Can you keep it down, man?” Fergus asked. “You would make us food for the wyverns.”

  “They aren’t awake, anyway. But as you will.”

  “They will be awake if you keep it up.”

  “It’s hard to imagine anything surviving up here,” Lucian said. With luck, they would be distracted from arguing with each other.

  “Nothing but wyverns,” Fergus said. “They shelter here in the Upper Reaches. We will need to be especially wary when the land rises again. There’s still a few thousand meters before there are any peaks.”

  “You’ll suffocate, first,” Cleon said. “They can’t be far ahead, and not much higher.”

  “So, there’s nothing up here,” Lucian said. “Just a cold, barren wasteland.”

  “That about sums it up,” Cleon said. “Shall we?”

  They continued. The land began to slope even higher, until they were climbing at an almost forty-five-degree angle. How long they climbed, Lucian couldn’t say. They paused for breath numerous times, until the sun had lowered dangerously. He didn’t want to ask what the plan was for nightfall. Any cave up here could be the lair of a wyvern. The sooner darkness fell, the sooner they would come out.

  They climbed yet another ledge, this one leading into a cave. Lucian almost called for a stop to shelter for the night, until Cleon wandered along the precipice, seemingly finding something.

  “Wait!” Fergus said. “What are you doing?”

  Cleon held up a hand. He seemed to be on the scent like a bloodhound. He kept walking, faster and faster around the mountainside, until he came to a sudden stop at a cliff.

  Once Lucian had caught up, he looked over the edge only to see a layer of thick gray clouds.

  “The trail ends here,” Cleon said.

  Fergus looked around in disbelief. “That can’t be, unless you’re saying they jumped off here.”

  “No,” Cleon said, his eyes cunning. “I think they may have been picked up. It’s a bit high for the Zephyr, but it’s the only real possibility.”

  “You mean, they were airlifted out of here?”

  “Yes,” Cleon said. “And likely, our friend was with them. Unless her trail branches off somewhere in the last few kilometers, without me picking up on it.”

  “Wait,” Lucian said. He pointed downward. “She went over.” He broke into a smile. “She led them here, to a dead end.”

  “I don’t understand,” Fergus said.

  “She’s a Gravitist. She bragged to me how she was so good she might as well fly. Well, what if she did fly, right over the edge?”

  “Clever, if true,” Cleon said. “Though no Gravitist is good enough to fly. The sheer amount of ether to pull off a stunt like that is too much. But perhaps she’s good enough to break her fall, even from such a height. If so, that leaves one question. How do we pick up a trail where there is none?”

  “You don’t,” came a female voice from behind them.

  At once, all three men turned to the sight of Serah, one eyebrow arched quizzically and shockspear in hand. Unlike before, she had boots on now, though her leather clothing seemed far too light for the cold weather. And yet, she showed no sign of being cold. Her blonde hair blew in the wind while a slight smile tugged at her lips.

  “Serah,” Fergus said. “We’ve been looking for you. We have things to discuss.”

  She looked around, taking in the cold, howling wind. “Must we?”

  “Circumstances have changed,” Fergus said. “Do you have a place you’re staying around here?”

  “If I did, why would I invite you?” Her eyes went to Cleon. “Who is this?”

  “Cleon Coley, at your service.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I very much doubt that.” Last of all, she noted Lucian. “And how did you get mixed up in this? Don’t tell me Kiro wanted to hunt me down after my act of charity.”

  “This isn’t a hunt,” Lucian said. Serah’s blue eyes went to him, and were mistrustful. “Fergus is right. We do need to talk. It’s important.”

  She watched him for a moment and gave a small laugh. “Well, normally I’d say no, but I can’t leave you three out for the wyverns.” She looked up. “I’m staying up there, and we’d better get moving before the Zephyr comes trawling back. I can give you a boost.” As she approached, she gave Lucian a sly wink. “Couldn’t stay away from me, could you?”

  “Something like that.”

  “All right, enough yapping,” Cleon said. “Where are you boosting us to?”

  “That ledge over there,” she said, pointing about ten meters above them. “Wind’s down a bit, so should be safe. Who’s going first? Lucian? Fergie?”

  “Don’t call me that,” Fergus said, expression darkening. “You can send me first.”

  “Ah, you’re the brave, esteemed leader, no doubt. Well, it makes sense to do the heaviest first. It’ll take more ether.”

  Before anyone could say anything, Fergus suddenly glowed with silvery light.

  “Aim for that ledge up there,” she said. “There’s a cave entrance you can’t really see from here. And try not to get off course. I really don’t want to waste my ether pulling you over there.”

  “What do you take me for?”

  “Never change, Fergie.”

  With a growl, Fergus knelt and gave a mighty leap. Lucian’s eyes widened as he sailed upward, far above the cliff they were standing on, and onto th
e ledge above.

  “I can tether everyone else up,” Lucian said.

  “That’s sweet,” Serah said. “I’ve got this, though.”

  “I guess I’m next,” Cleon said.

  She streamed, wrapping him in an aura of silvery light. Cleon leaped, slightly overshooting the ledge. Lucian almost had to tether him to keep him from falling, but Serah did something to adjust the gravity pulling him, making him fall more quickly once he was over the edge.

  “A little too eager, that one,” Serah said. She turned to Lucian and smiled. “Alone at last. Miss me?”

  Lucian blinked. “Maybe now’s not the time.”

  She sighed. “I should’ve expected that. Well, you ready for the leap of faith?”

  “Is there any trick to it?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Just keep your eye on the goal.”

  “Sounds simple enough.”

  Instead of standing at a distance to stream, she touched his arm. He was surprised at how warm her hand was. It was well below freezing out here.

  “We’ll go together. It’ll keep you from killing yourself.”

  “I can handle it,” Lucian said.

  “I know, big, strong man and all. Maybe I just need your help as a weak, defenseless woman.”

  “Hey.” Cleon was shouting over the edge. “Stop flirting and hurry it up!”

  She shook her head. “Damn fool. He’ll call the Zephyr down over us.” She streamed Gravitonic Magic around them both, until they were wrapped in a bubble of gray light. “Let’s move.”

  They made the jump together, and Lucian couldn’t help but gasp as the ground fell away. Maybe it wasn’t really flying, but it was close. The boosted jump took just a few seconds. Serah landed neatly in front of him while he landed behind. The four of them stood before a small cave entrance. They would have to crawl to fit in there.

  “Ladies first,” Cleon said.

  “I think not. I’ll bring up the rear. Just keep going straight until you reach the chamber.”

  Cleon shrugged, and went into the cave first, followed closely by Fergus. The large, armored captain could barely squeeze inside.

  “All right, I’m freezing now,” she said. “Let’s get inside.”

  Lucian went in first, followed by Serah.

  22

  The tunnel went on for a while, or at least, it felt so to Lucian crawling on his hands and knees. When he stood, he found himself in a small chamber. He couldn’t stand without stooping. With the four of them crowding in, there was barely any space. Fergus closed his eyes, as if pretending to be anywhere but here.

  Lucian didn’t blame him.

  “Couldn’t you have picked a better cave?” Cleon’s voice was loud and booming in the chamber’s confines. Lucian winced from the ringing in his ears.

  “Oh, I apologize,” Serah said. “Next time when I’m picking out a place to stay for me, and me alone, I’ll make sure it’s as fine as any manse in Dara.”

  “That’s where I should be,” Cleon said. “If I hadn’t run off to the Riftlands like some rotting fool, I might be Mage-Lord by now.”

  Fergus opened his eyes. “This is our situation, and we must make the best of it.”

  “There’s little enough air up here as it is,” Cleon said. “Maybe a couple of us should sleep outside. I nominate Fergus and Lucian.”

  “Is that a joke?” Serah asked. “We still have things to discuss. For one, why are the three of you following me?”

  Cleon was about to respond, but thankfully, Fergus cut him off. “We wanted to ask something of you. We were sent here by your father.”

  Her expression darkened. “I figured. What’s the old man up to these days?”

  “Busy preparing Kiro’s defenses against the Queen’s soldiers. By now, they will have reached the Deepfork and are well on their way up the Deeprift.”

  Her face paled at that news. “Soldiers? They were chasing me, too, but I lost them last night. Thankfully for me, they didn’t think to look up.”

  “Is the Zephyr about?” Fergus asked.

  “It came by to pick them up last night. And I’m hoping It doesn’t come back.”

  “I already figured that out,” Cleon said. “I’m basically the brains of this group. I’m the one who tracked you here.”

  “First of all, someone with earwax for brains could have followed that stampede. There were at least twenty soldiers, with four or five of them being Mage-Knights. And at least one had the purple plume of a Mage-Lord.”

  “You’re sure about that?” Fergus asked.

  “I’m not blind. I led them here, right to the cliff. I thought they would lose their way up here, but then the Zephyr showed up.”

  “And was the Queen on it?” Fergus asked.

  “That, I don’t know. I wouldn’t be surprised. If seems like a full-scale invasion of the Riftlands is happening. If there’s another group at the Deepfork, there may be more yet.”

  “You’re right,” Fergus said. “For all we know, there may be.”

  Serah’s face fell. “Well, we all knew this would happen someday. I guess I thought we had more time.” She met Fergus’s eyes. “So, you want my help to defend the village my father exiled me from, all because I’m the only Gravitist of any skill you know. My answer to that is no.”

  “That’s not why we’re here,” Lucian said.

  Her eyes turned on him. “What is this, then? Why else would you be here?”

  “We need to get to Dara. Your father told me you know your way around the Darkrift. And the way to a passage known as Slave’s Run.”

  Her eyes widened. “You can’t be serious. You’ve been on-world, what, four or five days? And you want to go into the rotting Darkrift?”

  “We are very serious,” Fergus said. “And we know that you know where it is.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Your father told us you did.”

  Her expression darkened. “Rotting hell. So rather than exile me, he wants to kill me off? I’ve had it with him. I owe him nothing. I’ll point you the right direction, but don’t expect any further assistance.”

  “Aren’t you the least bit curious about why we want to find it?” Cleon asked.

  “It’s not my business. You can stay here for one night since it’s too dark to survive out there. Come morning, though, I want all of you out of here. And out of my life, too, if you please.”

  “Just listen,” Lucian said. “This might be our only chance to defeat the Sorceress-Queen. If you don’t help us find Slave’s Run, then we’ll have to travel across the Riftlands all the way to Dara. If we do that, the Zephyr will surely catch us.”

  Serah sniffed. “Sounds like a personal problem to me.”

  Fergus huffed. “Let’s be reasonable, Serah.”

  “Reasonable? I’ll tell you about reasonable. What has the Riftlands ever done for me besides give me grief? I don’t like the Queen either, but I can survive her just as well as I can survive Rifters. Probably even better, since Rifters make a sport of hunting frays.”

  Cleon shrugged. “She has something of a point.”

  “Why must my father always meddle? Why can’t I live the rest of my miserable life in peace?”

  “What about Ramore?” Lucian asked.

  She looked at him, her brows lowering over her blue eyes. “What about Ramore? He’s dead. I supposed you saw that on your way here.” She shook her head. “He turned himself into a human torch to help me escape.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Just the thought of his body back there, pickings for the wyverns . . .”

  “The body was undisturbed when we found it,” Fergus said, solemnly. “We gave him a proper burial.”

  She blinked. “You did? Well, it’s more than I expected of you. No offense.”

  “We only ask that you hear us out,” Fergus said. “Nothing more.”

  She looked from Fergus, to Cleon, and finally, her eyes met Lucian’s and seemed to hang there. Curiosity burned. She had to be wondering why they want
ed to go to Dara, and how they planned to defeat the Sorceress-Queen. Despite Serah’s words, Lucian knew she didn’t like her from their previous conversations.

  “Okay. I must admit, you’ve piqued my interest. It’s not every day you meet people who are so dead set on being . . . well, dead. All right, I’m all ears.” She looked at Fergus’s pack. “As long as you share some of your food.”

  “Deal.”

  The cave was too small for a fire, and there was no real ventilation, so they ate cold jerky, bread, and crimson fruit, a berry that must have been native to Psyche. Lucian watched the others wrapping the fruit and meat in the bread, eating it like that, so he followed their example.

  Once done, Serah licked her fingers. “That’s good eating. Now, you have ten minutes to explain yourselves. Unless you bore me.”

  “This might take more than ten minutes to explain,” Lucian said.

  “Ten minutes.”

  “Okay,” Lucian said. “You want to know how I could defeat those two wyverns on my own?”

  “How?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

  Lucian was about to tell his story when Cleon interrupted him. “He has the Orb of Binding. There. You asked for ten minutes, and we gave you ten seconds. Does that settle it?”

  She looked from Cleon to Lucian skeptically. “You’re joking. The Orbs are just a story. My dad used to tell me that one when I was little.”

  “They’re very real,” Fergus said. “I saw its power two days ago in the Greenrift. Lucian was able to do things I’ve never seen any mage do. He created an avalanche and saved our entire harvesting party from the Queen’s soldiers.”

  “You mean, he saved you, Fergus?” Cleon asked.

  “I will admit as much. The way he handled his Binding stream was blunt and childish, but yes, he saved me.”

  “Thanks,” Lucian said.

  “It’s true,” Fergus said. “You are a child when it comes to magic. You’re an exile of your academy and barely old enough to have Emerged.”

  “I’m twenty-one, thanks.” At least, he thought that was his age.

  Serah’s eyes were wide and her face pale. She didn’t answer for a moment, as if she were still processing the information. “The Orb of Binding. That means the others are real, too. That means . . .” She looked at each of them. “Wait. You’re going after the Orb of Psionics, aren’t you?”