The Rifts of Psyche

by Kyle West

  Within seconds, no less than twelve Mage-Knights stood before them, in a wide array of colored robes – blue, red, green, and more. Lucian realized that if it ever did come to a fight, their numbers and specialties would counter just about everything the four of them could throw at them. They were in the Queen’s house and home, surrounded by her Mage-lords, Mage-Knights, bodyguards, hoplites, and sycophants. One false move and Lucian knew they would all be dead.

  All his friends, anyway. She still needed Lucian alive.

  There were well over a hundred hoplites in bronze armor, spears, and shields standing ready to receive their ruler on the airstrip below, forming a corridor leading to the palace’s side entrance.

  “What are we rotting waiting for?” Cleon asked.

  “Quiet,” Mage-Lord Kiani growled. “Do you really believe you would disembark before her Majesty?”

  Cleon was about to respond, but Serah placed a hand on his arm, which was thankfully enough for him to keep his mouth shut.

  At that moment, the door to the forecastle opened, revealing the Queen and retinue of Psionic Mage-Knights. Today, she wore a violet dress, with a floating train shimmering with amethysts. Coupled with her pale skin, it gave her an ethereal appearance as she walked between the column of hoplites toward the boarding ramp. Her face watched Lucian impartially as she passed.

  Once the Queen made it to the ground, each pair of guards flourished their spears at her passing. By the time she was entering the side entrance to the palace, Mage-Lord Kiani nodded at Lucian.

  “It’s time.”

  Lucian stared him down a moment before moving for the ramp. There was no use in fighting him. All they could do was bide their time and await the right opportunity. The walk to the paving stones below, followed by the long gauntlet through the guards, seemed to take forever. They were like statues, their expressions stonelike. Lucian kept focused on the entrance ahead. Already, the fast-moving shadow of the Mountains of Madness was starting to fall over the palace grounds and the entirety of Dara below. It was amazing how quickly the city went from golden sunlight to faded twilight.

  As they passed the threshold, they found themselves in a long arcade lined with gilded marble columns, with a violet carpet extending tens of meters into the distance. Mage-Lord Kiani and his retinue of Mage-Knights led them through corridors, halls, and past massive tapestries and paintings. Lucian wondered how the Sorceress-Queen had managed to find the resources for such luxury.

  Lucian looked inside a pair of open doors on the right to see a massive ballroom and an army of liveried servants setting up a long table with dishes and plates.

  “Stop your gawking,” Cleon said. “She invited you here to impress you. To awe you with her power. And it looks like it’s working.”

  “It is impressive,” Serah said. “You have to admit.”

  A couple of more minutes of walking brought them before a simpler door, though it was still intricately carved.

  “This will be your room,” Mage-Lord Kiani said to Lucian, his manner harsh. Clearly, being the butler was above his calling. “A man named Jarvis should be by soon to tend to your needs.”

  “Thanks,” Cleon said. “If I’m hungry, should I put in an order with you, or Jarvis?”

  The Mage-Lord’s mouth curled in distaste. “I’ll have the last laugh in the end, traitor. All four of you are to wait within for Jarvis’s arrival.”

  The Mage-Lord departed, along with his retinue of Mage-Knights. Not a single person was left behind to watch over them. Either the Queen was confident in her security, or she had made a deadly lapse in judgment.

  “Well, now is a golden opportunity to escape if we ever had it,” Cleon said.

  “Fool,” Fergus said. “Can you not feel all the wards around here? Not even my strongest counter-wards will see us escaping this place without tipping her off. We’ve been hooked.”

  “Fergus is right about that,” Serah said. “The question is, do we go along with this charade?”

  “Yes, if we value our lives,” Fergus said. “We’ve no choice but to play along.”

  “You’re right about that, I guess.” Cleon shook his head, his expression darkening. “Besides, I couldn’t leave my sister behind. I have to fix the past if I’m to ever live with myself.”

  “Is there anything we can do?” Lucian asked.

  “This is my own problem. I got her into this mess, so I have to get her out.”

  “Cleon,” Serah said, “don’t do anything stupid. We’re here to find the Orb, remember?”

  “That’s right,” Fergus said. “Our mission has not failed yet. But it could if you get us into trouble with the Queen.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Cleon asked. “We already are in trouble with the Queen.”

  “We should get inside the room,” Lucian said. “Anyone could be listening out here.”

  They went inside, and Lucian saw immediately that it was no mere room. It was an entire apartment, and a sizeable one at that. They stood in a marbled entry hall. A set of stairs ascended to the right, leading to some upper rooms, while the lower floor held a parlor with cozy couches and a fireplace. A door at the back led into what looked like a bathroom, while on the right was a richly appointed bedroom with a four-post king size bed. Everything inside was warmly lit by a fire in the hearth and hanging lights, the source of the light seeming to be some sort of oil. Wide windows in the parlor also admitted a small amount of light; it was all the afternoon twilight outside was capable of.

  All Lucian could do was wonder whether that bathroom had a shower in it. He ran forward and opened the door, finding a large tub with a copper faucet. When he turned the knob, warm water came out.

  “Hot damn! They have hot water here!”

  Fergus followed from behind and reached his hand into the water. “I haven’t felt hot running water since . . . Irion, I guess. In the hotel the night before they took me to the Academy.”

  “A Thermal brand, maybe?” Serah said. “Or perhaps a furnace heating it somewhere. Either way, I call dibs.”

  “Are you crazy?” Cleon asked. “Keep your guard up. This could all be a trap!”

  “Well, I haven’t had a real bath in months,” Serah said. “If I die, at least I’ll be clean. You boys have five seconds to get out of here.”

  “Come on, give her some space,” Fergus said.

  “Thanks Fergie,” she said. “Mind the door, would you?”

  Fergus closed the door, leaving the three men standing awkwardly in the parlor. Serah’s splashing was the only thing breaking the silence. Well, at least she was enjoying herself.

  They went to the couches and sat, since it seemed there was nothing else to do.

  “We need to come up with a plan,” Cleon said.

  “A plan for what?” Fergus asked.

  “In case they come to murder us all, obviously.” The tone of his voice stated this outcome was natural.

  “No one’s going to be killing us, Cleon,” Lucian said. “At least, not unless we give them a reason to.”

  “You’re on her side now, aren’t you? I should’ve known. The Witch has gotten into your head. I’m not sure which head, but probably the smaller one.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Lucian said, indignant. “I’m here for the Orb, and like it or not, we need her help to find it.”

  “Are you sure she isn’t using magic on you? That’s the only reason you could be acting as you are.”

  “Calm down, you two,” Fergus said. “Lucian hasn’t been branded by her. If she had, I would know it.”

  “It’s the Sorceress-Queen,” Cleon said. “We’ve established that she’s strong, so perhaps she has ways of branding that escape our notice. So why wouldn’t she be able to control Lucian’s mind while covering her tracks?”

  “Because successful mind control requires some complicity. He would have to agree to let her do it, on some level.” Fergus looked at Lucian. “Lucian would have never done that. And if she were to force i
t, it would be too draining on her faculties, leaving her vulnerable to other attacks.”

  Could that have been why the Queen was trying to make him like her, to make him voluntarily give up control? The prospect almost made him shudder.

  Cleon was looking at him in a way that said he doubted his loyalty.

  “I’m not on her side,” Lucian said. “I don’t agree with her or her methods. But I know it’s impossible to get the Orb of Psionics without her.”

  “You didn’t think it was impossible before,” Cleon said.

  “Yeah . . . that was before we went into the Darkrift, before I saw how rough the terrain is on the way here. And I’m sure once we’re beyond the Mountains of Madness, we’ll find out how even more impossible it would have been.”

  Cleon crossed his arms and said nothing. The man was nothing if not stubborn.

  “Yes, the Sorceress-Queen is powerful,” Fergus said. “In the end, though, the only power a Psionic can wield over you is that which you choose to give. Some people do it – either out of surrender, or in exchange for something else. Mind control is not an all or nothing thing. There are degrees of control, from subtle suggestion to outright possession.”

  Lucian frowned. “What about Morgana back in Kiro? The Queen was able to control her very directly, so does that mean she gave up control?”

  Apparently, both Fergus and Cleon had been apprised of that, but it was Fergus who answered. “Morgana must have allowed it on some level, even if it was in a dream. Perhaps the Sorceress-Queen promised something that made her give up control. Everyone has mental weak spots, and the Queen is adept at exploiting that.”

  Lucian wondered what his weak spots were. Had the Queen identified them? Was she chipping away at them already?

  “Such a thing seems unimaginable,” Cleon said. “Who would just give up control of themselves, and why?”

  “You should know that better than anyone,” Fergus said. “It is the price of power in her empire. All her Mage-Lords are branded in some form or fashion. I could sense it with Mage-Lord Kiani, and several others we passed in the palace. It’s her way of maintaining ultimate control.”

  “So, you’re saying Mage-Lord Kiani is mind-controlled?” Lucian asked.

  Fergus shook his head. “That’s not how possession brands work. She can do that, but not to an entire aristocracy of Mage-Lords. What she can do is create long-lasting brands with intricate streams – as many as five to ensure they last a long time. Those brands work to keep tabs on people she’s interested in – how they’re feeling, their physical state, where they are. It’s what allows her to keep her power; she doesn’t give power unless a person consents to be branded. Of course, every brand takes up some of her ethereal real estate. But that’s the Queen’s gift. She can stream so efficiently that she can hold dozens of brands on multiple people with almost no effect on her active streams.”

  Lucian shuddered, remembering how some of the things she’d said made sense. Did they truly make sense, or was she simply influencing his thoughts, despite her own admission that she wasn’t? “Are you sure she didn’t brand me?”

  Fergus shook his head. “You would know if she did. You would . . . feel her presence in the back of your mind, as it were. It’s likely that if she did want to brand you, she would do it with multiple streams that lasted a long time. The streaming of a brand like that would take a lot of effort, but once done, maintaining it would take little effort. It should be noted, branding someone Psionically is not always a bad thing. Friends can use it to keep tabs on each other, for example, and anyone you’ve Psionically linked with already can be spoken to again, although of course distance, stream power, and strength of relationship are all factors.”

  “Strength of relationship?” Cleon asked.

  “Basically, how well you know the person. It would be easier to communicate with a spouse across a few kilometers than someone you’ve met once just down the street, for example.”

  “I see,” Lucian said. “I’d say good to know, but it just makes me feel sick that she could do it at any time.”

  “I admit it’s possible you’re branded, Lucian, in a way too clever for me to detect. But you don’t seem possessed to me.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  More splashing emanated from the bathroom, along with the sound of water being drained. A moment later, Serah cracked the door, wearing a white bathrobe.

  She cleared her throat. “Can one of you gentlemen scrounge up some clothes for me?”

  Lucian got up and searched through the wardrobes of the bedroom until he found something that might be her size – a silvery, shimmering dress with a long skirt with frilly patterns. Embarrassed, he also grabbed what appeared to be undergarments, wrapping them in the dress so that they would remain hidden. He avoided the red ones – Serah might get the wrong idea, or worse, roast him mercilessly. He opted for some more innocuous beige ones, the least skimpy pair he could find.

  He went to the bathroom and handed the clothing off. “Just grabbed the first thing I found.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Interesting qualifier there.” She looked at the bundle with a smirk, and then at him. “Something with sleeves?”

  His cheeks colored with embarrassment. “Let me see what I can find.”

  “Thanks.”

  He returned with another dress, this one green, which had long sleeves. He brought it back to Serah.

  “Thanks. Will you let me know how I look after?”

  “Um, sure.”

  She closed the door, and Lucian returned to the couch, bewildered.

  “She has her eye on you, Casanova,” Cleon said.

  “Whatever. That’s just Serah being Serah.”

  “Well, she doesn’t talk to me like that, and I have a way with the ladyfolk.”

  Lucian would have countered that, but he didn’t see the point.

  “You’re a fool if you don’t see it, is all I’m saying,” Cleon said.

  “Speaking of fools,” Serah said, suddenly emerging from the bathroom in her dress, “didn’t I hear someone talking about Lucian being possessed by the Queen earlier?”

  Lucian’s eyes popped at the transformation. Even if her hair was wet, she wore the dress so well, as if she had been born to it. Her cheeks reddened under their collective gaze.

  “Stop staring,” she said. “Haven’t you boys ever seen a woman before?”

  Those words broke them out of their collective trance.

  “Wow,” Cleon said. “I almost thought you were a different person, there.”

  “Shut your rotten mouth.”

  Cleon chuckled. “That’s not very ladylike.”

  Cleon was lifted into the air about a meter, surrounded with an aura of gray magic.

  “Hey! Cut that out.”

  Serah smirked. “Sure thing.”

  He dropped down onto the couch and rolled off. Just the expression on his face, the look of sheer indignation, sent Lucian and Fergus into fits of laughter.

  “I’ll get you back for that!” Cleon said. “You’ll see.”

  “Oh, just learn your lesson already,” she said. She turned her attention to Lucian. “Well? How do I look?”

  “You look uh . . . good,” Lucian said.

  “Uh, good?” She smiled. “Well, that’s better than uh, awful.” She plopped onto the couch beside him. “This dress is not comfortable at all. Hopefully, they give me something new for this soiree thing.”

  “Speaking of,” Fergus said, “we need a plan for how we’re going to get through it.”

  “We still haven’t finished discussing the possibility of Lucian being branded,” Cleon said. “I’ll admit it’s improbable, but none of you know the Sorceress-Queen as I do. I’ve lived much of my life in Dara, and I’ve enacted her orders. She is not to be trusted in the least.”

  “Of course she’s not,” Serah said, now filing her nails. Where had she found that? “But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy some comforts
in the meantime.”

  “Where is this Jarvis supposed to be?” Fergus said. “I could do with a rest and a bath myself. In my own chambers, of course.”

  Fergus was clearly a bit shyer than Serah. Then again, most people were shyer than her.

  There was a knock at the door, which opened to reveal a short, mustachioed man dressed in fine violet linens laced with gold trim. His nose was turned into the air, and his eyes hooded. Lucian didn’t know how the man managed it, but even from his height, he was able to look down upon them.

  “Master Lucian, Master Cleon, Master Fergus, and Mistress Serah,” he said in a stuffy tone, giving a slight bow. “My name is Jarvis Tian, and I am head butler of the Golden Palace. I’m here personally to inform you that each of your rooms is waiting for you. When the masters are ready, I will lead you to your new accommodations, where you might take refreshment, bathe, and be outfitted for the soiree this evening.”

  “So soon?” Serah asked. “I thought I might have a bit of a nap first.”

  “I’m afraid that will not be possible,” Jarvis said. “My instructions are from Queen Ansaldra Dara herself, and they must be followed to the letter.”

  “He couldn’t disobey her if he tried,” Fergus said. “For what it’s worth.”

  Lucian took that to mean that Jarvis had been branded. The mere thought gave Lucian a chill. “I guess I’ll see you three later.”

  Jarvis bowed low and closed the door behind him.

  “Snooty man,” Serah said. “Lucian, I’ll see you at the soiree.” At the other two, she arched an eyebrow. “Well, are you coming, or are you going to make me wait all day?”

  With a grumble, Cleon stood, and Fergus followed behind. Once all three were out of the door, Lucian was left in silence for the first time in what seemed forever.

  He looked around the luxurious space, wondering how in the Worlds he’d found himself here. And how in the Worlds he’d get everyone out of it.

  38

  Lucian took a bath, luxuriating for at least half an hour and almost falling asleep before he heard the door to his chambers open. He hastily dried off, dressing in some new clothing he had left beside the tub. But when he went out, no one was there. However, a meal was waiting for him on the dining room table, a plate filled with what looked like steak, vegetables, and bread.