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

The door opened and two pairs of footsteps entered the house. Within a moment, both Kieron and Elder Erymmo were in the loft. The Elder looked very tired, his eyes hooded with exhaustion. But upon seeing Morgana sitting on her bed, crying, he became very alert.

He went to her. “Morgana? Would you look me in the eyes, please?”

Her eyes were still tear-filled, but to Lucian they seemed brown rather than violet.

Elder Erymmo nodded. “You seem to be fully yourself. But the time has come for your training, Morgana. We Elders have respected the wishes of your parents for some time, but now Kiro needs you more than ever.”

Morgana watched him for a moment and then nodded. “Okay. Whatever you need me to do.”

“Please, give Lucian and me a moment,” he said. “Will the rest of you wait here?”

“By all means,” Julia said.

Lucian followed the Elder outside to the stream. It was only once they stood by the running water that Elder Erymmo broke the silence. “Kieron told me what you said. Now, I need to know what Morgana heard while under possession. For whatever you told her, the Sorceress-Queen would have also heard.”

“Yeah, I figured that much.”

“I grossly underestimated the Queen. I supposed she would try to dream implant you, but I never thought she would do it to others. And to use Morgana, a mage who has barely manifested her powers, was a stroke of genius. What exactly did you tell her?”

“Only what was discussed at dinner last night. She knows that Fergus, Cleon, and I are leaving Kiro tomorrow to go wyvern hunting. The Sorceress-Queen also told me to meet her at the Deepfork, after she revealed herself to me.”

Erymmo frowned as he took in this news. “The Deepfork is a few days downrift from here. It seems she still believes she might convince you with her words.”

“Don’t worry,” Lucian said. “After everything, there’s no way I’m going to ever trust her.”

“While that’s good, she might not need your outright cooperation. If she believes you are going wyvern hunting, which I doubt, that would still lead you to the Snake Pass. It’s likely that she’s sending her men from the Greenrift straight there, in pursuit of you.”

“Where else could I possibly go? She thinks I’m the Chosen. And according to her, the Chosen’s fate is to seek all the Orbs and stop the fraying. And she says I need her to do that. I don’t want to admit it, but what if she’s right?”

Elder Erymmo whistled. “That’s a problem. If the Sorceress-Queen wants anything with the Orb of Psionics, it isn’t good. Of course, she would want you to think you need her. But it would be far better to find the Orb on your own, without her assistance. With Fergus, Cleon, and soon, Serah, I believe your chances are better than you realize.”

“There’s still the problem of how to outrun her if she really does have her airship.” Lucian sighed. “This is hopeless, isn’t it?”

“In truth? It might very well be. But do we have a choice but to try?”

Lucian laughed bitterly. “I should’ve never gotten on that shuttle.”

“If you hadn’t,” Erymmo said, “then who would be the one to find the Orbs?”

So, did Erymmo think he was the Chosen, too? The thought was enough to make him sick. He had never asked for this. But he could have stayed on Volsung. He had only himself to blame. The only thing under his control were the decisions here and now.

Tomorrow, he would be setting off on a quest across the face of Psyche. There was no other way to put it. He had to resign himself to that fact, as certainly as Fergus had done.

Erymmo watched him solemnly. “As it stands, the Sorceress-Queen knows you’re here.”

Lucian didn’t have to ask what that meant. They had to leave Kiro now.

19

Within the hour, Fergus was knocking on Elder Erymmo’s door, packed up and ready to go. It annoyed Lucian that Fergus seemed so fresh after getting no more than four hours of sleep.

Lucian was about to head out the door when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Wait a moment,” Erymmo said. “Or have you forgotten?”

The Elder went to the wall and grabbed the graphene shockspear. He held it reverently for a moment, before giving it to Lucian.

“It’s yours,” he said. “This was made by an old friend of mine, an accomplished Atomicist. He forged it directly from a carbon deposit on this world.”

Lucian assumed from Erymmo’s manner that his friend was long dead. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I am. He would have been glad for you to have it. Bronze or steel works fine, but graphene is best. Light. Strong. And it will never lose its sharpness. Kiro, for whom this village is named, was among the best. He learned Atomicism at the feet of Mallis herself.”

Lucian’s eyes widened at that. He had so many questions, but Fergus had already cleared his throat.

“Go,” Elder Erymmo said. “Remember everything I’ve taught you. And continue to train, to be the best you can be. Do that, and you will find your way.”

“Good luck here, Elder. Be safe.”

As he left, Lucian wished Elder Erymmo had been one of the Transcends at the Volsung Academy.

Shockspear in hand, he followed Fergus to the meeting hall. It was still too early for anyone else to be up. Once inside, Cleon was already there, heating a pot of stew. He stuck his finger inside and licked it.

“I hope you won’t do that on the trail,” Fergus grumbled. “It’s revolting.”

“Believe me,” Cleon said, “I’ve stuck it in much worse places.”

Fergus’s mouth twisted with disgust. “You are truly vile. Only you among my watchmen can speak to his captain without even a modicum of respect.”

“That’s the thing, Captain,” Cleon said. “You need me for this, so you have no choice but to put up with me and my vile ways.” He licked his lips. “Stew is done. Can I pour