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

golden valley, as far as the eye could see north to south, ringed in by mountains on all sides. The Golden Vale of Dara was as beautiful as any landscape he had seen on Earth. Perhaps even more so. This was the heartland of Queen Ansaldra Dara’s empire – rolling farmlands, clustered villages, gentle rivers, all flowing south toward some unknown sea.

And in the far distance toward the west was the crown jewel of the Golden Vale, the Imperial City of Dara itself, situated in the lower slopes of the Mountains of Madness. The buildings basked golden under the light of the morning sun above, the city’s size, towers, roads, and many terraces far grander than anything he remembered from his dreams. A high wall, also golden, ringed the half of the city not built against the mountains. Thousands of aureate towers rose above winding streets, streets that stair-stepped up the mountainside. More terraces and roads snaked up the mountain – dozens of them – all of which led to the high Pass of Madness above, now close enough to manifest as a shadowy tunnel. With the height of those mountains, the Golden Vale would spend most of its time in shadow, leaving only the morning for it to be true to its namesake. The sun was perhaps an hour from sinking behind the high peaks above.

Lucian got the sense he was being watched. He looked over his shoulder to see the Sorceress-Queen approaching, dressed in a velvet red dress, with the giant Mage-Lord Kiani beside her in his bronze armor, purple cape, and plumed helmet.

“We’ll be landing soon,” she said, her face betraying no emotion. “The Zephyr will resupply overnight. As that happens, I invite all of you to my soiree. Just a small affair, to get you used to the court, and to introduce my most loyal nobles to the wonderful people of the Riftlands.”

“What the rot is a soiree?” Serah asked.

“Fancy people party,” Cleon said. “Sorry, your Majesty. We’ll take your most comfortable room, along with some banquet food sent to our door, with a taster to make sure it’s not poisoned.” Cleon looked at Mage-Lord Kiani. “Preferably this guy.”

“Perhaps I should reword,” the Sorceress-Queen said drolly. “I insist you attend my soiree. It’s important that our association going forth should get off on the right foot. Mage-Lord Kiani shall be in attendance with his wife.” She looked at him. “Will you not, Mage-Lord?”

Cleon’s expression paled, and for once, he didn’t have anything to say.

Mage-Lord Kiani smirked. “Most certainly we will, your Grace. It would be a shame if you didn’t get to see my dear wife, Cleon.”

“That’s enough,” the Queen said. “Suffice it to say, your presence is mandatory.”

He and the Queen retired to the forecastle.

“My sister,” Cleon said, looking as if he had just taken a punch to the gut. “My failure will be staring me in the face.”

“What can we do?” Lucian asked.

“Nothing,” Fergus said. “Smile, and act as pleased as swine in mud.”

“Rot that,” Cleon said. “This is my one chance to free Lynne. To right my wrongs.” He clenched his fists. “I’m not going to let the opportunity pass.”

“That’s what she wants you to do,” Lucian said. “If you off yourself voluntarily, she won’t have to do it herself.”

“He’s right,” Serah said. “She’s probably trying to isolate Lucian. Pick us off one by one until he’s alone and without support.”

All of them were solemn as they considered that notion. That only made Lucian feel guilty about what he and the Sorceress-Queen had already talked about. They needed to know her eventual plans for him, but for now, he just couldn’t bring himself to say it. After all, even he couldn’t believe it was true.

“I can’t ask you guys to risk yourselves anymore,” Lucian said. The next part would be hard to say. “The Queen told me that all of you would be free to leave if you want. So, that’s what you will do. Leave. Save yourselves before this gets any worse.”

All of them watched him in shock. Even Cleon, to Lucian’s surprise.

“Come off it,” Fergus said. “I don’t intend to break my word. Not now, not ever. I will help you find the Orb of Psionics or die.”

Serah sucked in some air. “That’s a bit . . . intense.”

Fergus ignored her. “I must admit, I was somewhat doubtful of you to begin with, Lucian. But after everything, how could any of us leave you to this conniving, scheming woman?”

Heads nodded all around. How could they be so committed to helping him when defeat was so sure? Would he have done the same for any of them? To his shame, he didn’t know the answer to that.

But their commitment only firmed his resolve to see this through. If they were still on board, then he couldn’t give up, no matter how bad this got.

“We’ll attend the soiree,” Lucian said. “Keep a low profile, and don’t fall for any of the Queen’s traps.”

“That means no drama,” Serah said, looking at Cleon.

“If my sister is there, I can’t promise anything.”

“We know she will be there,” Fergus said. “And if you challenge Lord Kiani, it will mean your death.”

“I can’t do nothing,” Cleon said. “This is the only way I can make things right.”

Fergus took him by the arm and drew him close, speaking low. “Doing nothing is exactly how you save her. Not with violence that will serve no purpose but to jeopardize this mission. She’s saved as soon as Lucian has the Orb of Psionics and can use it to—”

Serah held up a hand, instantly cutting Fergus off. Lucian looked around, but they were still alone. At least for now.

Cleon looked from Fergus to Lucian, then back. “You sure he is going to do that, Captain? Seems like every day he’s becoming the Queen’s man more and more.”

“You fool. He’s just playing the game. As you should be doing. You need to talk less and use your head more.”

Fergus went back to watching