The Rifts of Psyche by Kyle West (i love reading .txt) 📕

“How could a tiny Orb do that?” Lord Kiani asked.

Lucian shook his head. “Not the Orb itself, but maybe the building the Orb is kept in. The Orb of Binding was inside this sort of shrine, and this dune seems about the right size to bury something that size.”

The Queen’s eyes widened in realization. “Of course. And you’re only mentioning this now?”

“It just occurred to me. We should return to the ship. Get the ship close enough by air and then stream from there.”

The Queen watched, as if suspecting some trick. But in the end, she turned from him and faced the others.

“You heard him. Back to the Zephyr.” When she turned back, she added, “This had better not be a delaying tactic.”

“It’s not,” he said. “I want to find that Orb just as much as you do.”

And probably more. But he kept that to himself. In truth, he didn’t know if his theory held water, but it would get them off the ground and give him time to think of what to do.

He was out of ideas. But if he was patient, the right opportunity would come.

He had nothing else.

44

Within the hour, the entire party had returned to the main deck of the Zephyr. All had gathered near the bow, where Lucian stood at the fore, just a meter from the bowsprit carved in the likeness of a wyvern’s skull.

From the sky, the strange shape of the dune was even more apparent, so much so that Lucian couldn’t see how they’d failed to notice it before.

The only question was what came next?

“Can your mages blast that sand away, your Majesty?” he asked the Queen.

The Queen shook her head. “It’s too far. That was the reason I wanted us on the surface.”

“And we can’t pull the ship any closer?”

“Not without risking losing it to shifting sands.”

It was as he had feared. It would be on him to peel back the sand from this dune. He didn’t know if it were possible, and truth be told, he didn’t even know if he was right about the Orb of Psionics being down there in the first place. But there was only one way to find out.

He drew a deep breath and assumed his Focus. The Orb of Binding couldn’t fail him now. Not if this was truly his destiny.

Once he got the Orb of Psionics, he could figure out the rest later. How to deal with the Queen, how to get off Psyche, where he stood with Serah . . .

“My Queen?”

Captain Rawley approached, pointing a tentative finger north, where the horizon was obscured by a wall of violet-tinged dust and flashing, purple lightning.

“Now, Lucian!” she said. “We don’t have much time.”

“It’s in the south, too!” one of the Mage-Knights shouted.

Lucian took time enough to have a look. The approaching storm wasn’t just in the north and south. It was all around them, a converging noose from which there would be no escape.

“Well, shit,” he said.

“Stop cursing, start streaming!” The Queen ordered.

Lucian nodded and faced the dune again as people began to shout and panic. How was he supposed to get everyone out of this? He realized that he couldn’t. All he could do was try to blast that dune away in time.

Assuming his Focus, he reached for the Orb of Binding. Magic streamed. It was a trickle at first, but its intensity picked up as he created an anchor point that covered the entirety of the side of the dune. In his deep shell of meditative silence, he barely registered the chaos outside his Focus. He was doing something that should have been impossible, and he had yet to set the focal point toward which all that sand would go.

He did so, streaming a focal point off to the south. At once, a layer of sand at least a meter thick was stripped away, flying toward the dune on their left.

“It’s getting closer,” Serah said.

“Faster!” the Sorceress-Queen said.

Lucian restreamed, stripping away another layer of sand. Binding Magic burned through him in a torrent. The first wave of dust was already hitting them, and the surrounding mages put on masks to keep the grit out of their noses and mouths. Lucian streamed again and again, the dune getting smaller as the sand was methodically shifted away. Lucian’s mind was fried with the effort. He could feel the Orb pulsing within him, ready to unleash more power. He could actually see ether swirling around him, as if his consciousness had partly shifted into the ethereal background. Streams of blue magic, drawn by the Orb, infused into his body, only to be streamed outward toward the dune. His mind was heady with vertigo, and the job was nowhere near finished.

He had to believe this was possible. He had to believe in his reasons. The Orb of Psionics was in there somewhere. And he would unearth it.

Lucian stripped away another layer when a sudden force pushed him from the direction of the dune, as well as every person on the ship. Lucian’s stream was cut off, his vision blackened. For a moment, he believed himself blind as an unholy roar surrounded the ship. The storm was upon them, but through the darkness was a violet glow in the distance.

“The Orb! Captain Rawley, put us down.”

Despite the buffeting winds and shifting sands, the good captain gave the order, shouting above the din of wind. Apparently loyal unto death itself, the crew obeyed. The Zephyr dipped down, even as it heaved to and fro due to the deadly, dust-filled wind.

And all the while, the purple radiance that had once been the dune extended outward. It was clearly some sort of ward or shield, but when Lucian reached for it, he found the complexity of the stream confounding. And its rate of expansion only grew faster.

Whatever it was, it would hit them soon.

“It’s a kinetic wave,” the Queen said, with growing trepidation. “Turn around! Ahead full! Binders, get us out