The Rift War Page 4

  "It's all right, Emmi. I'm here. You're not alone."

  Mrillis shook her, and that didn't fit with the dream-memory.

  Emrillian opened her eyes and found herself back in her adult room in their home on Moerta's shore. She swallowed and felt the roughness in her throat that meant she had screamed in her sleep.

  "It's all right," Mrillis said, stepping back from her bed, and settled into the chair set against the wall. "I should have expected a nightmare, after everything we discussed today."

  "This is ridiculous." She scrubbed her face with her palms, flinching at the feel of sweat. Raking her fingers through her hair, she scooted off the bed to fetch the pitcher of ice water she always took to her room at night. She wanted something far stronger, to warm the ice lodged in her belly and steady the shaking in her limbs from that ancient terror.

  "It is not ridiculous," her grandfather said. "It is an unresolved conflict, and all those fancy psychology texts will tell you that until your fears are faced or resolved, the nightmares will continue to torment you."

  "Until I face Edrout in battle and destroy him once and for all," she muttered, with the glass at her lips.

  "That lovely suit of armor you made would be totally wasted if you didn't face him."

  She sputtered and put the glass down. Leave it to Mrillis to make a comment like that, humorous and wry and sensible, all at the same time.

  "It's just that I thought I would have a few more years until I had to face him," she said on a sigh.

  "Thank the Estall we made our plans and preparations well in advance of the need. Despite today's unpleasant surprises, we are ready."

  "As ready as we'll ever be." She settled down on the edge of her bed. "I just hope I wasn't wrong, imagining things, when I made my list of recruits."

  Emrillian had sensed touches of magical potential in many of her friends among the Archaics, when she wore star-metal jewelry to tournaments and meetings. She had a long list of people she had researched, trying to determine if they had Rey'kil ancestors, or at least Noveni or Encindi ancestors with known imbrose. Unlike Grego's families, who were all wealthy and powerful and had easily tracked pedigrees, most of the genealogies she tracked for her friends ended in blanks only a century or two backwards in history.

  "The greedy, paranoid men at the Directorate are what worry me the most in all this," Mrillis continued, after they sat for several long moments in silence, with the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore coming through her open window. "Despite all the blockades I have created through the years, to protect our privacy and our property, they will eventually invade our home. Using those devices to search for star-metal, they will eventually find the tunnel. Even with the creatures Edrout has sent into the tunnel in an effort to find and destroy you... I have confidence for our journey, and for Liris and the others, protected with magic. The ones who come with modern technology will be little more than naked when magic blocks all technology."

  "No pity for those who are injured in the committing of their crimes," Emrillian murmured. She almost wished Mrillis would chide her for her uncharitable thoughts, but he just sighed at her words and they both lapsed into silence again.

  She supposed thinking about the imminent journey to Lygroes down the tunnel had brought on her nightmare. She had been awakened when Edrout had tried to break the magical barrier keeping him out of the tunnel under the sea, the only weak spot in the dome Mrillis and Meghianna had created nearly two thousand years ago in Moertan time, but only two hundred years ago in Lygroes time. If the scientists with whom Grego worked could detect star-metal and manipulate the energy from it, as he theorized, then they could conceivably break through the Threads that kept the tunnel mouth hidden, and eventually break through the spells that kept all intruders out of the tunnel. And eventually they would take that tunnel to Lygroes.

  When the modern world with its technology and science met Lygroes, where the people were essentially crippled in terms of magic, because so much star-metal power went to maintaining the dome and the time-bending spell... The inhabitants of Lygroes would suffer. Ancient weaponry and armor and warhorses against modern rockets and vehicles and explosives?

  The land her father had nearly given his life to protect would be as vulnerable as a newborn baby in a nest of drakags--and the modern world would be just as merciless.

  "We have to rouse Quenlaque and the Valors, and awaken my father before the dome falls," she said quietly.

  Chapter Three

  "We need to defeat Edrout, once and for all, and ensure we can control the lowering of the dome and the emergence of Lygroes into the modern world," Mrillis said. "We will need all the magic and all the power we can give our people, which means the dome must fall. Under our terms, not attacked blindly by the Science Directorate's machines. And we cannot take down the dome until we know Edrout will not be able to join forces with those who come against us. A battle fought on two fronts is a doomed battle."

  "Is my father ready to awaken?"

  "We won't know until we travel to the waystop, and step into the Vale of Lanteer." Mrillis sighed, levered himself out of the chair, and gestured at her bed. "Try to sleep for at least an hour more."

  Emrillian climbed back into bed, even knowing sleep was impossible. She half-dozed, her mind full of images of her Archaics friends, riding at the head of an army of warriors, facing the Encindi barbarians who had had two hundred years to rebuild their numbers. Friends who had trained in warfare for the fun of it would soon be fighting for their lives.

  She couldn't do that to them. She wouldn't do that to them. Asking them to stand with Athrar when he faced the forces of the modern world was one thing. Leading them into death was something else altogether.

  She would have to face Edrout and defeat him before such a battle became necessary, no matter what it cost her.

  * * * *

  "Blessed Estall..." Emrillian gazed out over the sea from the top tower of the house. Even at the darkest part of the night, when the moon had gone below the horizon behind her and not even a hint of sun waited in the east, the sea was there, a dark gleam and a whispering song. It struck her in that moment that she might never see this house again. Her imbrose bolstered her child's memories of her parents and of Quenlaque and the Stronghold, but not even magic could keep those memories strong, clear, and real. Tangible. This house where she had spent the last sixteen years was home, her entire world.

  This, she supposed, was something of what her father felt when his split lives were joined together, and he realized he would never go back to the simple inn in Quenlaque and be the simple inn boy, Thrarin, ever again.

  "Blessed Estall, please, I don't want to be queen. Not in my father's place, not to replace him. Please, let all my theories be nothing but possibilities. Please, make it so we have thought of everything and have planned for anything and everything that could happen, so that only the good happens for us. Please, let my father awaken when we step into the Vale of Lanteer, and let him take over this war. No, make it so there is no war."

  "You know that is not possible," Mrillis said.

  How long he had been standing there behind her, listening to her stumbling prayer, Emrillian had no idea.

  "You said faith and obedience require us to hope and to ask for and work for the impossible. Only by making ourselves pliable tools in the Estall's hands can we change the world and accomplish miracles."

  "Hmm, yes, I did say that. More than once. Graddon advised me--several times," he said with a soft chuckle, "that by aiming too high for our abilities and resources, we accomplish far more than we should have, even as we fail."

  "I don't plan on failing." She wrapped her arms around herself and turned from the view of the sea far below.

  When she had been a very small child, still unable to comprehend that her parents wouldn't be coming for her in a few days to take her home, that Aunt Meggi wouldn't come take her to the Stronghold, that Grandpa Pirkin and Grandma Ynessa wouldn't
come for her, that all she had left in the world was Mrillis, this room had been her refuge. She had stood here, looking out to sea, believing with all her heart that the tiny sparks of light on the horizon were lanterns on the shore of Lygroes. And if she looked hard enough, concentrated hard enough, and pulled as hard as she could with her fledgling imbrose, she would bring Lygroes and her missing family to her, and everything would be right again.

  Now, she would be going to Lygroes. To a world that had changed from her memories. Coming from a world that had changed beyond all comprehension of the people living inside the dome. Somehow, she would have to reconcile the two worlds. She would have to keep the world from unraveling when the dome fell and Lygroes hurtled forward into the world she knew of as the present, when the world of technology and the world of magic met.

  "The Estall formed you in your mother's womb for this moment in history." Mrillis grasped her shoulder with one hand and gently cupped her chin in the other. His eyes held nothing but sympathy and serenity and love. As always, knowing he was there filled her with strength, even if his presence couldn't drive away all her fears and doubts and worries.

  "I'm selfish," she whispered.

  "Hardly." He laughed and wrapped her in his arms.

  "I want to be an ordinary girl--well, not entirely ordinary," she said, her words half-muffled by his shoulder. "I want to go to the Archaics tournament coming up, and I want to compete and win the flute Trystine made. I want to be proclaimed queen for play, for fun, instead of fighting for my crown against real Valors and the Encindi and Edrout." She felt a flash of warm pride that she had spoken his name without stuttering. "I want to meet someone wonderful and fall in love, and not have to worry about dynastic marriages and politics and power ploys."

  "Ah. Of course." Mrillis released her, grasping her shoulders and holding her out at arm's length to study her face again. "And who says you cannot fall in love in Lygroes?"

  "I have thought hard about this, Grandfather. The wisest plan is to form an alliance through marriage. Marry the most powerful man among the Valors, to bind his allies to my father's cause. I will need his support, if not his help and counsel, when I seek the Zygradon."

  "Thoroughly logical."

  "What is that smile for?"

  "Am I smiling?" He released her and gestured at the circular staircase. "The time has come. Are you all packed?"

  "My gear is at the stables. All that is left is to saddle my horse and load the pack horses." She spread her arms and turned around once, making her short riding cloak swirl out around her. She wore light traveling armor, chain mail over supple leather, with simple tunic and leggings underneath that. Strands of star-metal had been woven through the chain mail to give it strength and more protection than it would normally offer. Riding gloves were tucked into her belt. Her two swords, bow, and quiver of arrows waited with her gear in the stables. She wore a long knife at her belt and had two throwing knives tucked into the outer sheaths of her boots.

  "You are prepared, you are ready, and you have no illusions about superiority." Mrillis nodded for punctuation. "You make me proud, and you will make your parents proud. I have no fears."

  "Good, because I have enough fears for both of us." She allowed a tiny, crooked smile when Mrillis sighed, hooked his arm through hers and led her down the staircase. "You still haven't told me what that smile was for, Grandfather. When I mentioned a marriage alliance."

  "Ah, yes. I was just remembering that Lycen and Ilianora had hoped you would marry Garad when you two grew up."

  "I remember him. I adored him."

  "His grandson holds the throne now. And as Regent for the Warhawk, he is the most powerful man among the Valors of Quenlaque."

  "Baedrix." She called up memories of Lycen, Ilianora, and Garad. Which of them did their descendant most resemble?

  More important, would he regard her with the same awe as many among the Archaics regarded her father, Athrar Warhawk? Or would he consider her an outsider, an interloper, someone to be dealt with and manipulated to acquiesce to what he thought best for the kingdom his family had protected since Athrar entered his enchanted sleep? Would he consider her a tool, a nuisance, and someone who had stolen the throne from underneath him, simply by being born?

  "He is a good man. A loyal, strong, wise man. And it doesn't hurt that he's still young and handsome," Mrillis said as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

  "That was sixteen years ago, Grandfather."

  "Hmm, yes, but not even two years in Lygroes' time. I don't expect him to have changed that much since the last time I visited Quenlaque."

  "Nor has the situation with Edrout and the Encindi and the rebel enchanters." She shivered as they reached the ground floor, remembering the nightmare she had suffered several hours ago, about Edrout's attack that woke her from the enchantment of long sleep.

  "Hmm, yes, there is that." Mrillis laughed and gave her a gentle shove for the door that would take them outside. "But consider this, my dear. Edrout likely thinks you are still a little girl. He won't be ready for the warrior queen who comes against him, clad in star-metal armor."

  "But when he learns that I have grown up and trained? When he learns I don't hold Braenlicach?" Emrillian stepped through the door and jumped down the few steps. Across the wide courtyard and gardens of their estate lay the stables, her horse, her weapons, and the star-metal armor she had dreamed of for years before she gained the skill to actually make it. Whether she had inherited her great-great-grandmother's visionary gift and the star-metal armor had come about through prophetic guidance remained to be seen.

  "By the time he learns of that lack, you will be on your way to the Stronghold to retrieve Braenlicach. No one but those born in the Stronghold may enter. No one but those of the Warhawk's blood may wield Braenlicach."

  "If it accepts me. If it lets me." She shivered, though her armor and cloak and the clothes underneath them had felt slightly too warm just a few moments ago.

  "You are the Lady Warhawk. You were spoken of in prophecy. Of course you will hold Braenlicach and it will burn with fire and light and sing for you. Be sure of it, my dear." Mrillis wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they crossed the courtyard of their house, for what might possibly be the final time.

  * * * *

  The thought that he might never return to his scientific life thrilled and threatened to paralyze Grego simultaneously. He had been unable to sleep when Mrillis had sent him home to pack and rest up for their pre-dawn flight.

  He wrote a letter for Brysta, trying to explain his reasons without sounding insane. It occurred to him that he would have felt better about lying to her, hiding this part of his life from her, if she had ever showed some jealousy of his friendship with Emrillian. Brysta had sometimes remarked that Emrillian seemed slightly distant from their friends, as if she held herself back from them.

  Grego would have been angry with her, if Emrillian hadn't confided in him a few times that she knew she was destined for a political marriage, and refused to let herself be tempted with romantic 'foolery' and dreams. He had wished sometimes that his sweetheart and his closest friend could confide in each other. Now, as he left a note for Brysta, he regretted having to leave her behind. If she had been an Archaic, hungry for the days of Athrar Warhawk to return, she would have been perfect. He might even have asked Mrillis to allow her to accompany them on this flight.

  Would Brysta hate him, or be wistful, when she realized that he had thrown away all his training, education, and hopes for advancement in the Science Directorate for the sake of magic and honor and adventure, and hadn't been able to include her?

  Just how deep and real had their growing love been, if he couldn't share this most precious part of his life with her?

  Too easily, Grego put away that part of his life, and Brysta, as he prepared to leave Moerta, perhaps for good.

  His most dominant thought was that he had brought this trouble on Emrillian and Mrillis and a world he preferred over the o
ne he had been born into. If he hadn't focused so intently on proving star-metal was not only tamable but had been tamed in the past, and essential to the continuing growth of his world, none of this would be happening.

  The com-box signaled when Grego had gone through his house for possibly the last time, gathering up the last few items he knew he couldn't live without, and returned to stand over his bed, trying to decide if he could fit it all into his saddlebags.

  With his luck, Kayn was on the other end, unable to sleep with all the plans he had made to ensure no one in the world knew star-metal existed on the shores of Moerta. Grego knew his partner in the project considered him a dreamer, unrealistic, idealistic, and despised him. He knew what irritated Kayn more than the existence of the Archaics was the fact that his foolish Archaic partner was one of the few people he could talk to about the project that seemed to have become his sole purpose for living. If Grego didn't answer the call, despite the lateness of the hour, the other man would find a way to authorize breaking down his door within ten minutes of being unable to get through to him. He needed to get out of his house and head to the Rakkell estate within the next half hour. Now was not the time to annoy or infuriate Kayn, even though he had a growing need to stick his tongue out at the man.

  "Grego? Please tell me you've been asleep," Karstis said, almost before his image appeared on the com-screen, "and Shar is just playing a really, really bad joke."

  "It's true. All of it." Grego held up his hand and concentrated on his ring to make the star-metal glow, rippling through green to blue and back again. His stomach knotted when a reason for his friend's doubt occurred to him. "Please tell me you have imbrose just like Emmi thought."