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

“They’re clean, Mage-Lord Kiani.”

Kiani was a sight, at least two meters tall, well-muscled, with a salt and pepper goatee on a late middle-aged face. His beady brown eyes didn’t seem to miss a detail.

Cleon growled as the man approached. Mage-Lord Kiani gave a slight smirk. Yes, it seemed he recognized Cleon. Lucian couldn’t help but wonder the reason for the bad blood.

“Mage-Knight,” Kiani said, jovially. “I pray all is well?”

At this, Cleon gave no acknowledgement.

“That’s no way to hail your commander. If you give me a salute and a heartfelt apology for abandoning your post, I might be merciful at the court-martial.”

Cleon only stared up at Kiani, his expression murderous. Lucian had to give it to him; he had a lot of guts to do that.

“Very well,” Kiani said, disappointed. “Time to get out of this dark, rotting hellhole.” His gaze took in all his men. “Straight back to the Zephyr, you lot. Let’s move!”

33

No one spoke as Mage-Lord Kiani, his Mage-Knights, and hoplites escorted them out of the Darkrift. Not even a week out of Kiro, and their mission had failed.

Lucian replayed the capture repeatedly in his head, wondering how things could have gone differently. Whatever scenario he ran, only one thing was sure. It was a miracle they had managed to get so far to begin with. They had survived the Deeprift, tracked down Serah, and evaded at least a dozen wyverns with the Zephyr on their heels. And they would have gone even farther had it not been for Osric.

Yes, they had been wrong to trust him. It was clear that Mage-Lord Kiani had somehow made it to Sanctuary first and worked out a deal with them ahead of time. Osric got what he wanted: a place for his people to settle on the surface, and Kiani got what he wanted: Lucian in chains.

The journey to the surface took three days. During that entire time, the Psionic block around Lucian’s Focus did not weaken in the least. There was little talking among the four of them. Indeed, it seemed as if they were marching to their deaths. They were bound and placed in the middle of the party of thirty or so Mage-Knights, with Mage-Lord Kiani leading. Escape was simply impossible.

On the third day, they surfaced. Lucian was glad to see sunlight again. Moored to the ground outside the cave mouth was the mighty airship Zephyr, its massive wooden hull at least a hundred meters long. But that hull was dwarfed by the enormous envelope above it, connected to the deck by hundreds of lines. The vessel seemed much too large to float, much more fly at the speeds Lucian had seen it go. But on this world, the low gravity made that possible.

Whatever the case, they were pushed along toward the ship, where the Sorceress-Queen awaited.

Once they stood under the shadow of the Zephyr’s massive hull, a large basket was lowered from above. The four of them were pushed in, along with Mage-Lord Kiani and the four Psionics he had brought with him, dressed in purple robes with the Septagon emblazoned on the breast. Lucian reached for his Focus, feeling for his ether again. Again, there was nothing. And the Orb of Binding’s presence was just as absent.

As the basket was hoisted up, Lucian watched the ground drop away. Once above the railing of the ship, Lucian was greeted to the sight of a wide deck, where about twenty crewmen milled about, busy at their tasks. Dozens of thick wooden masts secured the envelope above. Somewhere on this moon were trees, and big ones, too, to construct a ship of this size.

“This way,” Mage-Lord Kiani said. “Her Majesty awaits.”

A middle-aged man approached, with slick-backed black hair and a gray uniform with a Septagon emblazoned on the chest. “Mage-Lord Kiani. Your orders?”

“Captain Rawley, set sail for the Golden Palace as soon as my Mage-Knights are assigned to their battle stations. I would not be caught by wyverns, even if it’s not evening yet.” The Mage-Lord nodded toward Lucian’s companions. “And place these three in the brig, their blocks refreshed every hour by the Psionics. And the Sorceress-Queen wants to see this one posthaste.”

“No,” Lucian said. “You said you wouldn’t harm them.”

“And I intend to honor my word. It’s time that you met her Majesty.”

“That’s what we get for trusting that rotter,” Cleon groused.

Serah didn’t have the heart to lambast him for that one. Her head hung low, her eyes on the deck. Maybe they should have gone down fighting, as Cleon had suggested.

“This way,” Captain Rawley said to Lucian’s companions.

Lucian watched helplessly as his friends were led belowdecks, with all four Psionics following close behind. Once again, he reached for his Focus, but could no more use his magic than before.

“You led us on an impressive chase,” Mage-Lord Kiani said, “but in the end, I’m the better Radiant than your friend. I knew you were making for Slave’s Run, so the trick was intercepting you.”

“Well, you missed us on your way down. Passed us right by. So, your Radiance might not be as good as you think.”

Lucian didn’t know why he’d said that, but the words had the intended effect. The Mage-Lord’s face clouded with anger. “You’re lying.”

Lucian couldn’t help but smile smugly. “You can think that.” He nodded toward the forecastle, assuming that was where the Queen was. “Lead on. Don’t want to keep Ansaldra waiting.”

Mage-Lord Kiani’s brown eyes were stern, his face a storm of anger. “You had best mind your tongue and your manner with me, boy. And more so with the Sorceress-Queen. I am the Mage-Lord of the Golden Mountain. You will address me with the respect I’m due.”

Lucian didn’t talk back, even if he had a mind to. There was no point trading shots with him.

Mage-Lord Kiani nodded, satisfied. “That’s better.” He looked at some of his surrounding Mage-Knights, all armed with shockspears and wearing robes the color of their Aspect. That might make