The Rifts of Psyche by Kyle West (popular e readers txt) 📗

think about what a pathetic figure he cut in his prison jumpsuit, scraggly hair, and unkempt beard. Even for this world, he probably looked rough.

“Who goes there?” one of the guards called, who had a trim goatee. “What brings you to the gates of Kiro?”

Lucian held up a hand in what he hoped was a sign of peace. The guards stood straighter, each keeping a hand on the bow mounted to their backs. Seeing that, it took great effort for Lucian to not reach for his Focus. If they were mages, and anything like Serah, they might be able to detect it. It was basically the same thing as throwing up his fists.

“My name is Lucian,” he said. “Lucian Abrantes. Yesterday, my pod crashed in the Upper Reaches. I followed the trail down here.”

The guards exchanged a glance. The original one turned back to him. “And what do you want with Kiro?”

“Shelter,” Lucian said. “It’s getting dark, and I don’t want to die to wyverns tonight.”

“The wyverns don’t hunt this low,” the guard scoffed. “The thick air slows their flight too much.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“It’s lucky that you found us without the benefit of a guide. We’ve had reports of several pods falling in the Upper Reaches, but you would be the first to arrive at our gates.”

The guard’s tone said he was suspicious of Lucian’s story. Serah had warned him not to say she had led him here, but Lucian had the feeling that this guard would accept nothing but the truth.

“I had help,” he said. “I won’t say who, though.”

“We’re not letting you in unless you say who, Off-Worlder.”

“I told them I wouldn’t say who they were. I’m just trying to honor my word.”

The two guards looked at each other a moment before the first guard turned back to him. “Was her name Serah?”

Lucian remained silent.

“That answers my question. We know of her. It is forbidden to speak or deal with frays, Off-Worlder.”

“I didn’t know that,” Lucian said. “She led me as far as the valley, stopping at the sign. She pointed me the rest of the way.”

The first guard watched him for a long moment. That guard held his fate in his hands. With just a word, he could give him life or death. He was tempted to argue his case, but it was better to hold his tongue. He’d learned from the Transcends that sometimes the best thing you could do was keep your mouth shut.

After a painstaking half minute or so, the guard licked his lips again. “Well, at least you’re being honest. Our scouts reported a new arrival farther up the rift, along with who he was traveling with.”

Lucian wondered what else they knew. Could they know about the wyverns, or how he’d killed them? He didn’t see how it was possible.

Lucian retrieved the wyvern fang tied behind his waist, which was almost long enough to drag along the ground. He held it up high and hoped the guards could see it well enough in the gathering darkness.

“I was attacked by two wyverns near the Snake Pass. A nearby landslide roused them. I fought them off and harvested one of the fangs, on the advice of the fray.” It felt wrong to call her that, but it seemed the guard expected it of him. “She said such a thing would be of value to you.”

Again, the two guards stared down at him. They stared so long that Lucian feared that they wouldn’t answer him. Had all this been for nothing? His heart pounded in his chest. It was getting cold. Even if this valley was safer than higher altitudes, he did not want to pass the night in the open.

Keeping his mouth shut was difficult, but he reached for his Focus without touching his ether. He needed calm, and decided the risk was worth it. He watched the guards carefully, to see if there was any reaction. Their faces remained stoic. Lucian didn’t think they could detect him doing this. In fact, they didn’t seem like mages at all. Certainly, not everyone on this world would be one.

“Wait here,” the guard finally said.

He disappeared behind the wall, while the other stood watch, wary of any move.

Lucian waited a good ten minutes before the wooden gate creaked open, revealing a delegation of four men, all dressed in leathers and wielding shockspears. They walked forward as a single unit, though one of them hung back a few paces, older and prouder than the rest. He had long, shaggy hair the color of ash, and in addition to his leathers, he wore thick necklaces of bone and had earrings crafted of what appeared to be wyvern talons, at least a quarter of a meter long. In a higher gravity, those talons would have been unbearable to wear. His sharp nose reminded Lucian of a hawk, and his eyes were similarly shrewd, like a bird of prey.

He took quick note of the other men surrounding him, strong warriors all, well-muscled and having the look of discipline. But one of those guards stood closer to the leader, stronger and taller than the rest, with skin of onyx and a square jaw that seemed to be cut from granite. The eyes that peered at Lucian were not friendly.

“Hands where we can see them,” the man said, the command brooking no argument.

Lucian held up his hands. “I have no weapons. They took my spear on the barge.”

They patted him down all the same, making quick work of it. The dark-skinned man was rougher than the rest, even pushing him away lightly. Lucian almost stumbled. His eyes were cutting. What was this guy’s deal?

“Don’t try anything,” the guard said. “We’ll counter you faster than a sand shrike.”

“Didn’t plan on it.”

The guard grunted and motioned the others to stand back. At this moment, the long-haired leader stepped forward, arms crossed below his broad, hairy chest. Age hadn’t done much to take his musculature away. His face was stoic, appraising, and weather-beaten.

“Let me see