The Rifts of Psyche, Kyle West [i love reading .txt] 📗

man, I understand you have certain . . . needs. I also understand if you need to act upon them. But you must never let it become more than that. Your destiny is greater, and you must always be mindful of that destiny. Your focus should always be the Orbs; all else is secondary. You are the Chosen, and there are few women who will be a match for you in strength.”

Lucian kept his face forward, and when he answered, he did his best to keep his voice controlled. “That’s not for you to decide. And whatever I do on my own time is not your business.”

“There, we beg to differ. Too much is at stake, Lucian. I’ve a mind to forbid you from such future . . . meetings. They are a distraction.”

He wanted to defend himself, but it would be a waste of breath. Better to change the subject entirely. “Is this all you wanted to talk about?”

Her eyes refocused on the expanse of dunes before him. “Tell me. Do you feel anything?”

“What do you mean?”

“We should be close to the Orb, now, and this is the first time I’ve been this far into the Burning Sands without being forced to turn back due to a storm. An auspicious sign. Access your Focus, Lucian. Feel what you can.”

“As you wish.”

He held his Focus, and the image of the Septagon formed clearly in his mind. He reached out, trying to feel . . . something out there in the sands.

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

Her gaze went above, to the planet and its malevolent red storm. “At any moment, we will be directly under the planet’s eye. The planet’s eye shifts over time. It’s a tempest, after all, prone to movement. That means the Orb could be anywhere in these deep sands, really, so I’m waiting for some sort of sign that we’re close.” She faced him. “How is it you found the Orb of Binding?”

“I stumbled upon it,” he said.

“You . . . stumbled upon it?” Her expression registered disbelief. “This mighty artifact of Starsea Empire, that hundreds of mages have sought with great patience and study, including Xara Mallis herself, and you just . . . stumbled upon it?”

Lucian cleared his throat. “That’s right.”

She shook her head and gave a light laugh. “What a joke. Let’s hope that your luck still holds, even on Psyche.”

There was a knock at the door. The Sorceress-Queen’s delicate brows lowered in annoyance. “Yes?”

The door opened, revealing the broad-shouldered Captain Rawley, who gave a slight bow. “We are directly underneath the eye, your Majesty.”

“So soon?” At the Captain’s nod, she sighed. “Very well. Drop anchor. Prepare the away team. I intend to go down myself, along with Lucian and his companions.”

“Your Majesty, the sands today are treacherous. Perhaps it would be better if you remained here, where it’s safe.”

“You dare question me? Begone, Captain. I’m not to be trifled with today.”

He bowed so quickly that Lucian thought he’d keel over. “Yes, of course. At once, your Majesty.”

He shut the door softly while the Queen rolled her eyes and sighed. “Imbecile.”

Within the minute, the ship began lowering over the sands beneath. The landscape was warbled through the undulating heat waves. It looked like hell and a half down there.

And this was where he was going. There was nothing but to be mentally prepared for it, if such a thing was even possible.

The surface was like standing in an oven. Lucian had no real way to tell the temperature, but it was certainly far hotter than anywhere on the surface of Earth. It was so hot that the Queen’s Thermalists were forced to combine streams to create a ward powerful enough to protect the party of thirty or so mages.

The surrounding ward shimmered red with radiated heat. It only served to cool the air somewhat. And of course, it would do nothing to steady their footing in the loosely-packed sand.

“Reach for your Focus,” the Queen told Lucian. Her face seemed to not feel the heat, not to break in a sweat at the slightest. Not even this harsh terrain could steal her dignity. “The Eye of Cupid is directly above us. I would see prophecy fulfilled before the day is out.”

Well, she was going to be sorely disappointed. Lucian really had no other choice. He reached for his Focus, expanding its reach until it encompassed the surrounding environment.

“Anything at all?” the Queen asked.

He shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes,” Lucian said, with forced patience.

She huffed, as if she didn’t believe him. “Well, let us at least scale this dune in front of us. We may see something from the top.”

As good as her word, the party climbed the dune ahead, a veritable mountain of sand. Everyone walked, but the Queen used a moving gravity disc to speed her ascent, while the two Gravitists in the party did so as well, the capes attached to their gray robes streaming behind. Well, let them. Lucian wasn’t going to waste his ether on frivolities.

It took half an hour, but he made it up with the rest of the party, huffing and puffing. Despite the lowered gravity of Psyche, the dune was high, and the sands beneath his boots treacherous.

He turned in a wide circle, scanning everything in sight. Just dune, dune, and more dune, all with that same reddish tinge that was only amplified by the Thermal ward. Everyone was looking at him, only adding to the pressure.

“It all looks the same,” he said. “It all feels the same.”

“I did not come here for excuses,” the Sorceress-Queen said. “The Orb is out here. Somewhere. It’s your job to find it.”

“Perhaps it is buried,” Lord Kiani said, wiping his brow with a kerchief. “It’s said the Burning Sands are as deep as any ocean in the Worlds.”

Cleon stared at him balefully but did not say anything.

“If that is so,” the Queen of Psyche said, “perhaps it’s time we started digging.”

Everyone looked at her as if