The Rifts of Psyche

by Kyle West

  Lucian went out into the night. He was surprised at the chill, considering how hot the desert was during the day. A long walkway of paving stones, lined with broken columns, led into the desert. At the end of that walkway stood the woman, her white dress shimmering under Cupid’s reflected light. Lucian almost felt a chill watching her. It was as if the ghost of the Queen were still among them. He had to remind himself that this wasn’t her, and that the real Queen was alive somewhere.

  But he couldn’t lower his guard. After all, a new person meant new potential dangers. His decision to save her could backfire massively.

  There was only one way to find out who she was, and whether he had made a mistake in letting her live.

  Lucian cleared the distance in about two minutes. He stopped about ten meters away from the woman, who gave no sign of knowing he was there. He was wondering how to break the silence when she turned. Her face was sorrowful, but only a little of the haughtiness of the Queen remained. She looked Lucian up and down, her green eyes narrow and mistrustful.

  “Can I get you anything?” Lucian asked. “Food? Water?”

  She shook her head.

  “Can you speak?”

  Silence.

  “Is there anything I can do to help you? Anything I can tell you to clear up confusion?”

  More silence.

  “Your mind was possessed by the Sorceress-Queen of Psyche. I don’t know how much of that you remember, but that’s over now. My name is Lucian. I’m the one who drove her out of your mind.”

  He offered a hand. The woman looked at it for a moment, and then back at him.

  “What can I do to get you to talk? Do you want me to undo your block?”

  The woman, at last, nodded. At least they were getting somewhere.

  “Do you promise not to attack me? Will you at least talk to me, tell me who you are? No one can survive alone out here.”

  After some hesitation, she nodded. Lucian supposed it could all be a trick, but he was the one who had decided to save her, after all. It was only fair he assumed the risk of unblocking her. With the Orb of Psionics at his disposal, he could recreate the block in an instant if he needed to.

  At least, that was what he hoped.

  Before he could second-guess himself, he unraveled the block. It was gone in an instant.

  The woman blinked a few times, a small smile coming to her face. “Thank you. Although perhaps I shouldn’t be thanking you. Death would have probably been a kinder fate.”

  Her accent was hard to place. The words were smooth, almost melting into one another. It reminded him somewhat of the way the Queen spoke, as well as the nobles at the soiree. She was someone among Dara’s upper classes, then, further evidenced by her magical ability. From her age, she was likely born and raised here, too.

  “What’s your name?”

  She watched him closely, carefully. “Selene de Mordred.”

  “Do you mind telling me what happened, Selene de Mordred?”

  Her expression became grave and pale. “Just call me Selene. It’s easier.”

  “Selene, then.” After a moment of silence, Lucian realized he would be asking all the questions. “What do you remember?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t trust you.”

  “I suppose that’s fair. I don’t really trust you, either, which is why I’m trying to talk to you.”

  “Is . . . she dead?”

  Lucian shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. I was only able to drive her out of your mind.”

  She nodded, as if she had expected that answer. “That’s what I thought you said. I was hoping I misinterpreted.” She looked around. “And where is this?”

  “We’re in the Burning Sands. Under the Eye of Cupid.”

  She laughed bitterly. “I . . . was afraid of that. I’ve just been staring at that planet above, thinking I’m in a nightmare. But after hearing it from you, I think it might have been better to die.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  She looked at him as if he were stupid. “Because we’re in the Burning Sands, with no way out.”

  Yes, that was a good point. “We’re working on that. How are you associated with the Queen?”

  Her lips curled in distaste, and the action didn’t seem to be forced. That was a good sign. She clearly hated the Queen, and that made her a potential ally.

  “I’m the Psion of the Atomicist, Nostra. Other than that, no association at all. We’ve barely spoken. At least until . . .” She trailed off.

  So, Selene was someone in Queen Ansaldra’s circle, if only on the periphery. Perhaps she even had quarters in the palace.

  “How did the Queen take control of you?”

  “Must we go over this? I barely even know you.”

  “I saved your life. Don’t I deserve some answers?”

  “Perhaps my life wasn’t yours to save.”

  Was she serious? “Most would be grateful to have their life saved.”

  “Not if you’ve just given me a worse fate.” She shook her head. “You should’ve just killed me along with the Queen. At least my life would’ve meant something, then.”

  Her, too? It was hard not to throw up his hands in frustration. Or to even agree with her.

  “Whatever the case, this is where we stand. It’s the four of us now. You probably noticed we had to bury our friend back there. Unless you were sleeping through that.”

  She nodded, seeming to look down her nose at him the entire time she did so. She seemed stuck up, but maybe that was to be expected of a noblewoman. “I saw.”

  “And you probably can’t go back to Dara, seeing as the Queen would probably just want to take control of you again.”

  “Yes, I surmised as much. I don’t need you to explain things to me as if I were a child. You can’t be much older than me, anyway, and I’m probably better educated.”

  Lucian had to swallow his first response. “Just trying to help.”

  “Then stop. I don’t need a rescuer. However, I am willing to work with you in order to get out of this mess. If such a thing is even possible.”

  That was something, at least. “We would be grateful.”

  “Well, you can’t get out of here alive unless you or your friends understand basic Atomicism. Which most mages don’t.” She sighed. “Even if I did get out of here, is there any point? Every option that matters has been taken from me.”

  “Don’t you have family somewhere?”

  She shook her head. “Dead.”

  That might have made her a target of the Queen. And if she were the Psion of an Atomicist, she must have had enough potential for the Queen’s Focus transferal to work. And of course, Selene was exceptionally beautiful. If the Queen had to pick someone to possess, beauty would have been requisite. Beauty was power, especially when power backed that beauty.

  “Look,” Lucian said. “Atomicism is the only Aspect I have no experience with. And it probably means you’re a fair Dynamist and Thermalist, too. Those talents will be useful in getting out of here. Fergus is a Radiant, and Serah a Gravitist.”

  “Which would make you a Psionic,” she said, with a secretive smile that said she knew more than he thought. “And a damn good one at that, to challenge the Queen.”

  Lucian decided a change of subject was in order. He wasn’t ready to tell her about the Orb of Psionics, though if she knew anything about Arian’s prophecy, then she might figure it out, anyway. “I have a potential way of getting off Psyche for good. If that path ever comes, then you’re welcome to join us . . . at least until we find a decent-sized port for you to get off at. I’m sure you probably don’t want to hang around any longer than you have to.”

  “How generous of you,” she said, drolly. “And how do you plan to leave, exactly? Even assuming you do, your solution is just to throw me at the first port you come across? My blood means nothing beyond Psyche. I’d be fated to be some dockyard strumpet for as long as my looks lasted. And no doubt, som
e mage-hunter would detect me and send me right back here, anyway.”

  Lucian frowned. When he had saved her life, he certainly hadn’t expected all these complications. He hated to admit that killing her would have been far simpler.

  But even so, Lucian could feel the truth. She was scared, and her contrary nature was just a shield. After what she’d been through with the Queen, that made sense. It would be best to give her the benefit of the doubt, unless she did something substantial enough to lose that benefit.

  “Maybe we can find an Academy to enroll you in, I don’t know,” he said. “This is all pointless unless my plan works, anyway.”

  “You still haven’t shared your plan. Out with it.”

  She was a woman used to getting what she wanted quickly, especially from those she deemed socially inferior. Well, she had another think coming. She knew nothing about the Orbs he held, and until she proved herself in some way and stopped berating him, telling her would be supremely stupid.

  “I have a plan,” he said. “I just can’t tell you.”

  “A secret plan.” She smiled. “Aren’t those the best kind?”

  His face flushed. “Well, I’m not going to just tell you. I don’t know if you can be trusted yet.” He looked back toward the Spire entrance. “Look. Would you at least come inside and meet the others? They helped me to rescue you.”

  “Ah. So they are to blame as well.”

  “If you choose to think of it that way, sure. It’s your life. We have food, but not much. Maybe we can find some more where the Zephyr went down.”

  “So that’s how everyone got out here,” she said. “Shame about that ship. We might have sailed it to the Riftlands. It wouldn’t have been an easy life for me, but certainly better than drying out like a prune in the Burning Sands.”

  Lucian had another dark thought about why the Queen might have selected Selene. As a disagreeable person, she might not have been much missed.

  “You can join us. Or stay out here. We’ll likely set out tomorrow at dawn.”

  “That’s ill-advised,” Selene said. “The sun will burn you to a crisp, and I can’t hold a Thermal ward that long.”

  Lucian nodded. “Fair enough. Tomorrow night, then.”

  At that moment, the ground rumbled, causing the sands ahead of them to shift. It was a good half minute before the moonquake had passed. The sudden movement made Selene grasp onto him like a life raft in a storm.

  As soon as the quake had passed, she let go of him as if he were toxic sludge.

  Lucian shook his head. “You’re welcome.”

  “And we have these wonderful quakes to look forward to, too,” Selene said, as if she hadn’t offended Lucian in any way. As if his feelings didn’t matter. “If you get me back to the Westlands, past the Fire Rifts, maybe then I will be glad you spared my life.”

  Lucian scoffed. “Come inside and eat. Or not. But if you do, mind your manners. You’re not in charge of anything out here, and you’ll need us to survive just as much as we need you.”

  He returned to the Spire at a fast pace. Selene did not follow.

  49

  Over a bowl of watery soup that did little to satisfy his hunger, Lucian shared his conversation with Selene.

  Once done, Serah nodded. “Yep. Should’ve killed her.”

  “Killing her would’ve done no good,” Fergus said. “An Atomicist would be incredibly useful. She can make water for us. Any Atomicist worth their salt can do that, and we certainly don’t have the water supplies to make it all the way to the Westlands.”

  “Can Atomicists make food, too?” Serah asked.

  Fergus frowned. “I’m not sure, but that seems a bit more complicated.”

  “I might forgive her if she conjures us a full dinner here. Wyvern skewers spiced with caro, slathered with plenty of butter and herbs, some roasted potatoes and cave mushrooms . . .”

  “Not helping,” Fergus said.

  Their conversation was cut off when Selene stood in the wide-open archway. She joined them at their fire, warming her hands.

  “I’m Selene.”

  “We know,” Serah said, somewhat coldly.

  Her green eyes watched Serah, somewhat amused, but she said nothing more.

  “Would you like something to eat?” Fergus asked.

  Selene watched him a moment, her eyes placid. “If you please.”

  Fergus passed her a bowl of soup, even throwing in a few extra chunks of meat. Selene looked at it, all but pinching her nose as she stared at it.

  “What is this?” she asked.

  “Dinner,” Fergus said. “Beef, caro, and potatoes mostly.”

  Lucian watched Serah nervously. If Selene turned down this meal, she might actually kill the woman.

  Selene took a small, dainty sip. “It’s not . . . terrible.”

  “Well, eat up,” Fergus said. “We’ve only enough food for two days. Four, if we stretch it.”

  “We need to head out to the crash site tomorrow night,” Lucian said. “It can’t be far, and there were stores of food for two hundred. Some of it has to be intact.”

  “It’s probably five meters deep in sand by now,” Serah said.

  “We’ll find it. We have new tools at our disposal.”

  That one vague line was enough to communicate to Fergus and Serah that Lucian hadn’t told Selene about his Orbs.

  “It’s time for sleep,” Fergus said. “There’s no monsters out here that can bother us, right? No wyverns, giant sand worms, anything of that nature?”

  “Nothing like that,” Serah said. “The climate is what kills.”

  “No point setting a watch, then,” Fergus said.

  “Someone might have survived the crash,” Selene pointed out.

  Serah shook her head a little too vehemently. “If they had, they would be here by now.”

  Selene pursed her lips but said nothing. Lucian supposed it was naïve to think drama would go away with the Queen’s expulsion.

  “There’s one more thing I have to do,” he said. “I’ll be back.”

  Without waiting for an answer, Lucian went up the crystalline steps circling the interior of the Spire. He realized then how high they rose. The three of them at the bottom looked small indeed even halfway up. The top of the Spire was certainly higher than the dune that had once covered it. Either it had grown after being unearthed, or it had risen up from beneath the sand. The second option seemed more likely.

  Once he reached the room where he’d found the Orb, he discovered it wasn’t a room at all. The time aura had only made it seem like a room. In fact, it was the top of the tower, in the shape of a Septagon with seven sharp points, each denoting an Aspect of Magic. Each of those points had a carved line leading to the center of the roof, where the empty pedestal stood. Looming above was the gas giant Cupid, its bands pearlescent, its bloodred storm sinister. Several smaller moons were silhouetted against it, like moles on a face.

  Lucian reached for the Orb of Psionics, trying to impart his purpose onto it.

  Reach across lightyears, across stars. Find Vera, wherever she is.

  Ether rushed into him as the command was enacted. His Focus expanded outward, far beyond the atmosphere of the planet. It did not find Vera in the Cupid System, nor did it find her in the vast space beyond it. Lucian’s Focus spread farther and farther, stretching thin even as more magic streamed from the Orb. Multiple stars entered its awareness, along with their planets, thousands of millions of souls. The ethereal field thrummed before him, and though he could now see a thousand stars, it was but a grain of sand in the context of the galaxy.

  It was all too much. An existential dread overwhelmed him, of his smallness in the universe. All he could feel was that vast darkness, his insignificance against it.

  He needed to find Vera before it broke him. She was somewhere out here. If he could just get a message out . . .

  Then, there was a connection. He saw her form, huddled around a fire in what appeared to be some ancient ru
ins. As with every time he had seen her, her dark hood was thrown overhead, her eyes black as she stared into the flames. From this image, there was no telling what planet she was on. All Lucian knew was that she was far, far away. Just seeing her brought back all his misgivings, all his doubts about her. He almost cut off the link.

  But he had to go through with it. He saw no other option.

  Vera . . .

  When Vera looked up at him, her eyes widened, but she recovered quickly, as if him being there was the most natural thing in the Worlds. Nothing could phase her for long.

  Lucian. I wondered when the Manifold would make good on its promise to bring us together again.

  Her voice was the same – like the wind rustling over dead leaves. It sent a chill down his spine. Magic roared through him, a hurricane of ether. He could not keep this up for long, even with the Orb of Psionics.

  I need help, Vera. I’m on Psyche, and I need you to come get me.

  She watched him closely, her eyes dark and seeming to hold many secrets.

  I daresay you do need help. This link you’ve forged is a clumsy thing. It should be . . . impossible. I can show you how to do it better.

  I have the Orb of Psionics. And the Orb of Binding. Please. You must help me.

  Her gaze grew intense as she peered into him. Something told Lucian that those words had reeled her to the core, despite her lack of reaction.

  Indeed? It’s clear we have much to speak of, but already, I feel your link slipping. And how did you know I have a ship at my disposal? I never told you about that.

  I didn’t know. I just figured the prophecy you told me might be true. That we would meet again. That . . . you would train me. That’s all I had to go on.

  I see. I remember you not believing me. But people only cling to prophecy once they’ve lost everything else.

  She was going to say “no.” Lucian could feel it in his bones. All of this had been for nothing.

  Fear not, Lucian. I will be there as soon as I’m able. You have but one job until then.