The Rifts of Psyche

by Kyle West

  “I don’t think I am. But then again, I’ve been using far more magic than I should be. When I wake up in the mornings, sometimes I feel this fire beneath my skin. Not as bad as a few nights ago, but it’s there. Burning.”

  Serah nodded, her expression solemn. “That’s how it starts. You have time, still. Time enough, maybe, to find these Orbs. The whole part about giving them to this Immortal guy, that sounds a bit iffier.”

  That about summed it up. “I don’t know what to make of any of it. I’m not even sure how I would do that, or how what the Oracle of Binding told me fits into all of that.” He sighed. “I’m in way over my head.”

  “I will help you, even if it was not my original oath.” Fergus said. “Feels bad to say that to someone twenty years younger than me. But this is bigger than me, bigger than my pride. And . . . I’ve always felt like my life was missing something. This is a chance to do something big. Something that matters. That’s all I ever wanted as the Mage-Captain of Kiro.”

  “What about the Elders?” Lucian asked.

  He waved his hand. “I’m swept up in this now. I don’t think I could get back there even if I tried.”

  “Me neither,” Serah said. “Unless the Sorceress-Queen is kind enough to drop us off. Which I don’t see happening.”

  “So, you’ll help, too?” Lucian asked.

  Her eyes softened, and there was something in her face that seemed to feel pity for him. From that one look, he already knew her answer.

  “Well, someone has to stop you from doing something stupid. And you’ve done plenty of stupid so far.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “But, to your credit, you’ve also saved my ass a bunch of times, which is more than I expected from a soft-bellied Earth boy.”

  Cleon grunted, and drooled a bit.

  “Is that a yes?” Serah asked.

  Cleon moved his head and would have lost control if not for Fergus holding him up.

  “He’ll let us know tomorrow,” Serah said. “I have to say, all this sounds so far-fetched and impossible. Just to go over it one more time, your plan depends on getting the Orb of Psionics in the first place and trusting that the Queen isn’t just using you to get to it. All that rot about prophecy and you being the Chosen is just a distraction. Anyone can claim prophecy, it doesn’t prove anything. She needs you compliant for as long as it takes for her to get the Orb.”

  Lucian had to admit that was a likely outcome, even if his gut said that the Queen had plans for him that went beyond the Orb of Psionics. “That’s why we need to figure out a way to grab it before her.”

  “What way?” Fergus asked. “We’re going on her airship, surrounded by her Mage-Knights and hoplites.”

  “I don’t know,” Lucian said. “I’m just laying out what needs to happen.”

  “And then there’s Vera,” Serah continuing her previous line of thought. “Assuming you do get the Orb, you’d still need to contact her. And we don’t even know if the Orb of Psionics is capable of that, as powerful as it surely is. I’ve only used Psionics to communicate across a rift or at most two, so it’s hard to imagine anything farther than that.”

  “I have a reason to think it is powerful enough,” Lucian said. “Back on Volsung, I almost drowned during one of my Trials.”

  “Wow,” Serah said. “You really weren’t a good student, were you?”

  He ignored that observation. “I heard Vera’s voice underwater, speaking to me. At the time, she was lightyears away. If she could do that without the Orb, then I could probably do the same thing with it.”

  She nodded. “Okay, assuming all that, then yeah, it becomes more likely. But then she would have to have her own spaceship. Nothing flies to Psyche aside from prison barges. The space around it is restricted to League warden stations and vessels. If she had her own ship, what was she doing on that interstellar liner in the first place?”

  That was a good question to which Lucian didn’t have an answer. “Putting it that way, yeah, it all does sound far-fetched. And then on top of that, she would need to find a way through the blockade.”

  “The only other option we have is the one we laid out before,” Serah said. “My vote is to use the Queen. Get to the Orb first . . . and then use it on her before she can hurt us.”

  “But that guarantees a fight,” Lucian said.

  She scoffed. “You are falling for her ploys. Lucian, she’s just using you. You said you wanted our help, right? Well, this is me helping you, and saying for the millionth time: don’t trust her.”

  “So, you just want to gamble everything?” Lucian asked. “Go for the Orb and attack her with it, even if I don’t know what the rotting hell I’m doing?”

  “It’s a chance! We’d be fools not to take it.”

  “In case you forgot, the Orb of Binding isn’t helping me,” Lucian said. “What if the Orb of Psionics is the same way? I doubt I’d know how to even use it on her. I would die, and then that’s two Orbs for her. Are you saying you want that to happen?”

  Fergus frowned. “This isn’t helping. We’re on the same team. Remember what I said a few days ago? If we can’t work together, then we’ve already failed.”

  “I don’t want to fight, either,” Lucian said. “But you have to admit, my training is severely lacking.”

  “You’ll have us,” Serah said. “You’re acting like this is your fight alone. We’ve already signed on, remember? Sure, maybe the four of us can’t hold our own against the Queen. But if you can ward us all, Lucian, and do so with the power of the Orb, she can’t Psionically control us. That’s the reason she has her power, the reason no one has been able to overthrow her. If anyone openly rebels, she just turns them into a puppet. Now, no one challenges her.”

  “You’re right,” Lucian said. “I guess it’s possible, but if you’re counting on the Orbs to come through, all I’m saying is not to expect it. We almost died falling down that shaft in the Darkrift. The Orb didn’t want to work. Whatever we were doing down there, we weren’t on the right path. The Queen said as soon as I started doing what the Orb wants me to do, it’ll start working again.”

  “Let me guess. What she wants to do just so happens to be what the Orb wants you to do? That’s convenient.”

  “What if she’s right?”

  The others had no answer for him. He wished they did. It would make things so much easier.

  “There’s too much at stake to risk our lives and two Orbs,” Lucian said. “We’re at a severe disadvantage and don’t have enough information.”

  “If you don’t risk something, you can’t gain anything,” Serah said. “You have to be bold, Lucian. What other chance will we have?”

  “I can wait until I become stronger.”

  “But by then, the Sorceress-Queen will have you fully convinced she has the right of it. You’ll be completely turned against us.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what to do. What’s right, what’s wrong. I don’t know how to get the Orb of Binding working again. I’ve fallen off the right path. Following the Queen doesn’t seem right, but I don’t see any other option. I’m in over my head.”

  Serah reached across and touched his hand, a move that surprised him, especially after her earlier harshness. “Who isn’t here? We’re all still alive, which is amazing in itself. What’s the next thing we can do? Don’t think about the Orb of Psionics. What’s something we can do right now to better our situation?”

  “I mean, we’re doing it,” Lucian said. “Trying to talk and plan. We need agency, but that’s impossible when we’re inside the Queen’s palace.” He looked around the room. “And for all we know, she has someone in the walls listening to every word we say.”

  “I have us warded,” Fergus said. “And if someone were trying to dismantle that ward, I’d be the first to know.”

  Lucian nodded gratefully. “Good to know.”

  “We have a choice to make, as I see it,” Fergus said. “Abandon our original mission an
d join forces with her. Or . . . the other option. Trying to get to the Orb first and then do what we originally planned. Or as Lucian said, work with her and wait for this Vera to come and settle the score. I don’t much like that one, because it depends on too many unknowns.”

  Cleon’s mouth opened and he leaned forward, as if to say something. He started to fall, and would have had Lucian not caught him.

  Lucian sighed. “It’s hard not to feel like we’re just going right into the jaws of doom, so to speak.”

  “That’s an apt way to put it,” Serah said. “Well, rest assured Fergie and I won’t leave you to this spidery bitch. We’ve been through too much, have come too far, the stakes are too high. Et cetera.”

  “Thanks,” Lucian said.

  She looked down at the frayed skin on her arm, drawing Lucian’s attention to it also. Was it his imagination, or had that marring grown since he’d met her?

  “I’ve only got a little time left,” Serah said. “It would be nice to find all these Orbs before this does its work.” She nodded down at the frayed skin. “And it’s not like I have much to live for here.”

  “I know this isn’t easy,” Lucian said. “The last thing I want is to work with her. But she does have resources, an airship, and an entire empire at her disposal. We have to use it, but we’ll always be looking out for the first opportunity to go our own way. I’m not sure if it’ll come down to a fight at the end. I hope not. I believe an answer will reveal itself. We just have to watch for the right opportunity.”

  “We’re really doing this, then,” Fergus said. “I see no other way forward.”

  Cleon gave an angry grunt but was unable to form words.

  “Are you sure he’s okay?” Lucian asked.

  “She calmed him hard,” Serah said. “I’ll have to get her to show me how she did it. Seems like a good trick.”

  Cleon grunted again.

  “We should stick together, in any case,” Lucian said. “There’s no reason for us to sleep separated tonight. We’ve got two couches here, plus the bed.”

  “The floor’s fine for me,” Serah said. “I can’t sleep on anything soft anymore.”

  “Let’s let Cleon have the bed,” Fergus said. “All of us should sleep now. We will need our wits to survive tomorrow.”

  Lucian dreamed of the Orb of Psionics. It shone violet in the darkness, thrumming with power. It was as if it could sense he was getting close.

  Find them . . . the Voice said. Bring them to me.

  Just hearing that voice again, after so many months and after just talking about it, sent a chill down his spine. But this time, he wasn’t a scared child stunned into silence.

  He intended to find answers, despite his own fear.

  Who are you?

  The Voice was quiet. So quiet, that Lucian was sure that it had gone. The violet Orb continued to pulse with power.

  I am the Voice of the Manifold. I have chosen you to fulfill my purpose.

  You mean, you are the Immortal.

  The Voice was silent for a long time. It was as if it were watching. Waiting.

  I am all that is Immortal. I am the Unmoved Mover, the reality that casts the shadow. Anything Immortal is me. But I am not a particular person or place. The Immortal is a part of me, but I am not the Immortal.

  So, the Immortal, the Chosen of Starsea who last held all the Orbs, was now a part of the Manifold, but he wasn’t the Manifold itself.

  As I have chosen you, the Manifold has chosen me to speak for its sake. The Manifold wishes for you to find the Orbs and return them to the Heart of Creation. The Balance must be restored.

  The Balance? What do you mean by that?

  The Starsea Cycle must end. And it will end when the Orbs have been returned to the Manifold.

  To the Heart of Creation.

  Yes, the Voice said. The Heart of Creation.

  How?

  The First Gate beyond the Dark Space. It will take you there. Find the Orbs. Bring them to me.

  And destroy them?

  No . . . not destroy. Never destroy. Magic itself would end. Your species would be left stranded, desolate. The Gates would go dark, and travel between them impossible. That would be apocalyptic for your society. Almost as bad as the fraying . . .

  Of course that would be one of the effects of ending magic, besides countless others. It was not something the Oracle of Binding had mentioned, nor something that had even crossed his mind. If that was going to happen, then why would he ever destroy the Orbs?

  Everything was even more confusing now.

  Magic need not end, Chosen. It must not end. It has always been, just as it always must be. The Starsea Cycle can end, and you need not carry the burden of the Orbs. Not forever. Return the Orbs to the Manifold. To me. That is all I require of you.

  Lucian didn’t bother mentioning that “all” the Voice of the Manifold required was a practical impossibility.

  You want me to give you the Orbs, and that will stop the fraying?

  Yes. It will stop the Time of Madness. I can use their power to keep the fraying at bay. I can repair myself. Make myself work again.

  Why me? Why not someone powerful, like Vera?

  There was a moment of silence. It is not her part to play. She has her role. But not as Chosen. And you were the more likely . . . candidate.

  What was that supposed to mean? I have so many questions. I need help. I can’t do this by myself.

  You will have help. Just get the Orb of Psionics, by whatever means possible. Trust in the plan.

  The plan? What plan?

  Follow your purpose, and everything will be as it was meant. You are Chosen, Lucian. It is your destiny. You will become the most powerful mage in the galaxy, mastering magic even the Ancients believed impossible. You will bend the Worlds to your will. Even now, you can listen to the Heart of Creation and hear my Voice. If that is not evidence, what is?

  Where does the Sorceress-Queen fit into all this?

  You must let her help you.

  That’s it? Is she going to kill me, or not?

  I’ve told you all you need to know. Trust in the plan.

  He wanted to scream in frustration. You enjoy this, don’t you? You’re like some capricious god torturing a mortal. How do I shut this off? I won’t have it anymore!

  The Manifold is everywhere, Chosen. And the ether follows you, like mass to a star. Wherever you go, I can follow. The ether wants to be used. The more Orbs you gather, the clearer my Voice will become. You are a Vigilant of Starsea. My Chosen.

  I want to find all the Orbs and stop the fraying. Nothing more or less.

  Then do as I’ve said, and your wish will be granted.

  Lucian knew he was missing something, that this Voice of the Manifold was only telling him what he needed to hear. But all the important details, the motivations, were lacking. He was nothing more than a pawn in a game larger than his imagining.

  And if I don’t?

  Then the Madness will take you, and your species will be ground to dust. And the Starsea Cycle will have added to its graveyard of races.

  At that moment, the dream ended, and Lucian awoke.

  41

  The next morning, Cleon was woozy, but coherent. The four of them were quiet as they got ready. Lucian felt gloomy, not wanting to talk about his dream. The last thing the others needed was more bad news.

  They dressed in travel clothes far richer than anything Lucian had worn in his life, aside from the outrageous ensemble from last night. He wore a loose button-down travel shirt with plenty of pockets that came with a similar jacket, sturdy pants cinched with a fine leather belt, and supple boots that fit him perfectly. On the belt, there was even a holster for his spear, large enough to hold his weapon in the retracted position.

  The others dressed in similar attire, grumbling about needing to depend on the Queen even for clothing, but what they had worn before was so dirty and grimy that it was beyond repair. They packed a few other articles as well, not k
nowing how long the trip would take.

  The servants delivered breakfast, rice porridge in a savory red sauce spiced with the native caro pepper. The mood was somber, and for that Lucian wasn’t surprised. It seemed they were stuck in the Sorceress-Queen’s web with no possible escape.

  Hardly anything was said as Jarvis led the four of them to the airship. They were given their own cabins, a rare luxury on a ship that easily crewed two hundred people. Just around the corner from their berths was the Sorceress-Queen’s own private quarters, not twenty steps away. It was hard to tell if that was supposed to be an honor, or so she could keep an eye on them.

  Also traveling with them was Mage-Lord Kiani, the Butcher of the Westlands, who was staying in the cabin adjacent to the Queen’s. How the Queen expected peace with both him and Cleon aboard her ship, Lucian couldn’t guess. In truth, he was more preoccupied with the dream he’d had last night. He’d tell the others eventually, but for now, he just didn’t have the heart. He was deflated, and at this point, it seemed there was little they could do to regain control of their mission.

  Thankfully, the Sorceress-Queen didn’t wish to see any of them – at least, not immediately. There was nothing left but to wander the deck and watch the passage through the Pass of Madness, into the Westlands and Psyche’s Planetside.

  The Zephyr cast off just when the golden morning sun alighted upon the Golden Vale, rising above the eastern mountains. The wind was cool and fresh as they ascended over Dara, its streets thrumming with life despite the early hour. The ship veered west, rising higher and higher. Lucian craned his neck, but even so, the peaks of the spindly Mountains of Madness were lost to the haze of blue sky. He marveled that even on a clear day, he still couldn’t see their tops. Their slopes were brown and bare, seeming to hold little, if any, life except for the terrace farms above the city.

  The pass itself, nothing more than a wide, square tunnel – seemed to be located several kilometers above the valley floor. As the Zephyr approached, Lucian could see dim daylight at the end. Due to the height of those mountains, their shadows would keep the other side in twilight until at least the afternoon, the shadow extending far beyond the horizon. Below, he could see a narrow road cut into the mountainside, leading from the city to the pass. There were so many switchbacks that it would take an entire day to ascend, if not longer. Various towers and small villages straddled its length, villages he supposed survived off the trade that passed through the mountains.