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

her stream is highly pure, which has made it possible for her to hold out this long. That said, she would love nothing more than to escape this world with two Orbs in hand, and an army of fiercely loyal Mage-Knights and Mage-Lords at her back.”

It was a terrifying thought. All Lucian knew was that he had a dangerous enemy.

“I’ll go find Fergus.”

He left Elder Ytrib’s hut and headed for the meeting hall.

11

Lucian found Fergus eating breakfast alone. He watched Lucian disdainfully as he approached.

“Captain, the Elders wish to see you.”

Fergus arched a questioning eyebrow. “To speak with me?”

“Yes,” Lucian said. “I’m just the messenger.”

Fergus grunted, setting his food down and washing his hands in a nearby bowl. “Stay here, then. And find something to eat. The farming party will set out soon.”

Fergus left, bronze shockspear in hand. Lucian took a bowl of soup, filled with vegetables and some sort of meat. He was too hungry to question what exactly was in it.

By the time Fergus returned half an hour later, Lucian had finished his soup and the meeting hall was almost full. Lucian supposed that this crew of fifty was to be the farming party. The watchmen stood separately, dressed in leather armor while holding their own spears of bronze. Some of them cast surreptitious glances Lucian’s way. Lucian wondered if he would be getting his own spear. It would feel good to have some sort of weapon he was familiar with.

Fergus stood at the entrance to the meeting hall. He rapped his spear three times on the stone floor, and all conversations stilled at the sound.

“All right,” he boomed. “Time to move. Let’s get this over with before evening.”

Everyone stood, some grumbling, and began to filter out of the hall.

Lucian approached Fergus after noticing the other watchmen doing the same. The warning Morgana had given him yesterday was still fresh in his mind. “What do I do, Captain?”

“Remain silent unless I call upon you,” he said. “If I need something, I’ll tell you. You have my word on that.”

Lucian swallowed his pride. “As you say, Captain.”

Fergus let out a sigh, as if Lucian’s case were hopeless. When the last of the gathering party had exited the hall, Fergus motioned for his guards to follow. Most of them looked to be about Lucian’s age or older. Lucian wondered if any were mages like him.

As they walked through the village, Lucian couldn’t help but wonder how Fergus might make an example of him. He wondered who among these watchmen were part of that scheme. Perhaps all of them. Was there anything he could do to prepare for it? The Elders had already exhausted him with their tests, so he was in no position to defend himself. Of course, he always had his Binding Magic. But if other mages were like the Elders, they would notice the purity of his stream. And that might lead to questions. Of course, it was possible Fergus had been apprised of the situation.

Whatever the case, it was clear Fergus despised him.

Once they had reached the gate of the village, Lucian was surprised at how bright it was outside. Not that it was “bright” by any means, but it certainly was compared to the gloom of the cave. Lucian had to squint as he emerged into the cool, misty air, golden with sunlight diffusing from above. The sun here had to have been bright to shine through all this atmosphere. Perhaps it was a good thing Psyche was a cloudy world.

“Off-worlder.”

The guards pulled to a stop as Captain Fergus thrust a spear, point down, in Lucian’s direction.

“What?” Fergus scoffed. “Don’t tell me you’ve never used one of these before.”

Lucian took the spear, giving a few twirls of a basic ceremonial sequence he’d learned at the Academy. Several people stopped to watch the movements, flashier than they were practical. This spear didn’t retract like the one he once owned, but it would suit his purposes. “I know little enough, Captain, but I’m eager to learn more.”

Lucian hadn’t meant that to sound sarcastic, but a few of the other watchmen snickered. Their laughs were stifled with one venomous glare from Fergus.

“You will learn, Off-Worlder. Of that I assure you.” Fergus faced the rest of the watchmen. “Keep an eye out. I know we are still in the Deeprift, but that is no guarantee of safety. Eyes sharp.”

The group moved quickly down the narrow trail at a jogging pace to catch up with the rest of the gathering party, which had gone on ahead. After thirty minutes of skirting the right side of the rift, the trail forked. The left path followed the rift deeper down, while the right path turned into a long set of stairs descending into a tunnel. To Lucian’s surprise, they went into the tunnel, down the stairs that took them deep underground. There was a light at the end of that tunnel, but it was far in the distance. The villagers lit the path with torches, making streaming light spheres unnecessary.

After about ten minutes, they emerged on the other side to find themselves standing hundreds of meters above a narrow valley, with slopes so steep it could almost be called a canyon. Craning his neck, Lucian could see golden light filtering through the thick atmosphere above. The tops of the mountains were lost to that radiant light, making it seem as if the world were nothing more than this valley, this rift, delving deep into the heart of Psyche.

“Is this still the Deeprift?” he asked.

The watchmen proceeded ahead, seemingly ignoring him. All but one, who paused beside him. He had pale skin, flaming red hair, and brilliant green eyes.

“This is the Greenrift,” the guard said, with an easy drawl. “So-called because . . . well, it’s green.”

Lucian saw that he was right. The rift’s lower reaches were green with vegetation. And at the bottom ran a swift river that plunged deeper into the fissure. Lucian wondered if all the rifts were like