The Rift War Read online

  "What was that for?" he asked, his voice a weak rasp.

  "Necessary." Mrillis stepped back and looked him over.

  "Yes, it is adapting nicely," Graddon rumbled from his seat by the fire.

  "What is adapting?" Grego had to fight not to say more or add punctuation with his fists. It wasn't wise to anger an enchanter. He suspected Mrillis had just cast a major spell over him, ten times more potent than the mind-blocking spell.

  "A spell of understanding and learning. When we reach the end of today's journey, we will emerge into a Lygroes of two thousand years ago. The styles and manners, you can handle. However, the language would be a problem for you without the spell I have just cast."

  "Grandfather always spoke the old tongue with me," Emrillian added.

  "The magic of the Vale of Lanteer allowed you to understand Ynfara and me, and for us to understand you," Graddon said. "I have been learning continually since we stepped out of the Vale. It was convenient, and wise, to spend some time resting here. Now, it is time for you to learn. Easier to implant information in your mind once, rather than to constantly use magic to let you understand, and let others understand you."

  "The advantage of this over a simple translation spell," Mrillis said, "is that you learn the language while you speak it. When you return to Moerta to recruit and lead your fellow Archaics, you will be able to translate for any of Emrillian's subjects who go with you."

  "Let's hope I make a good enough impression that someone wants to come with me," he muttered.

  "All that matters is how you impress our queen," he responded in a somewhat sharp tone. "But that is all for the future. Shall we go?" He gestured toward the waiting horses.

  * * * *

  Eleanora let out a soft gasp, her eyes mirroring the muted sparkle and glow of the jewels that Baedrix spread out on a folding camp table for her to examine. Lamp light caught on their sharp, angled faces. Her voice was muted by the wall hangings that made the large tent set aside for Athrar's heir into a regal pavilion. Watching his sister, Baedrix smiled. He wished the heir were a man. He would have liked to wed his sister to the new ruler of Quenlaque, and shower her with the crown jewels he and their ancestors had guarded so carefully.

  His sister was a true-bred lady, gracious and kind, devoted to honor and justice at any cost. Her strength of body and soul and mind made a mockery of the insistence of the leaders in Court that a "real" lady was delicate and sheltered, didn't have a brain in her head, and could do nothing in her own defense except scream for help, and even then scream delicately. Eleanora could handle sword, bow and shield, and control any horse in Quenlaque Castle's stables. She had come on this journey to welcome Athrar's heir and serve as her maid and companion until they returned to Quenlaque Castle. Neither of them had been able to sleep, and when Baedrix saw his sister walking in the dawn mists, he had chosen to bring her the casket of jewels, to pick which to present to their new queen first. The truly impressive crown jewels--crowns and scepters and necklaces heavy enough to make Naylia bend over--had remained in the castle. These, however, were his favorites, and a good indication of the wealth his forefathers had guarded for Athrar and his family.

  "She will be so beautiful in these," Eleanora whispered, as if the jewels could hear her. "I had a dream, before Ectrix rode home. I saw a grown woman, wearing armor, ride from the mouth of the tunnel."

  "A blue dream?" He held his breath until his sister nodded. "A warrior comes to us. Does it mean we head for war?"

  "Who can know? Mrillis rides with her, and two men. I know the faces of the Rey'kil who went with Lord Mrillis to help raise her in Moerta, and I do not know their faces."

  "Men from the future world?" Baedrix shuddered. "Do they come as allies, servants, prisoners? Or does she flee danger?"

  "We won't know until we meet her." His sister gestured at the door of the tent that she occupied alone now, and would share with the heir when she arrived. "Dawn is here. Instead of spending the day in games and sharpening weapons, it might be wise to establish patrols, just in case Edrout has caught wind of the arrival and tries to attack." She gently closed the lid of the casket, cutting off the shine of the jewels.

  * * * *

  Emrillian tugged on the edge of her hood, bringing it up around her face as daylight finally reached her from the tunnel mouth. Every step her horse took echoed louder than the last, until she feared the rock would crumble around her. She didn't know if she feared being blocked inside the tunnel or blocked from staying inside.

  It comforted her to be dressed in her traveling armor and have her sword at her hip, her quiver slung from the saddle hook, and her bow over her shoulder, ready to be pulled out and strung. There was no telling who would be waiting at the Tower of Bo'Lantier when they emerged. Tradition had a Valor on duty at all times, to keep watch. But if Edrout had been strong enough to attack the enchantment that let her sleep through the ages, then he could have the strength to attack and take the tower. Her blood enemy could be waiting for her to appear.

  On the positive side, Edrout could not be anticipating the presence of the seer, Graddon, in their party.

  The battle for the safety of Lygroes and the throne of Quenlaque could be at hand, just a few minutes from now. Was it possible that it could be settled that easily?

  Emrillian shook her head. No, she knew she would first have to travel to the Stronghold, awaken Meghianna, and take Braenlicach into her hands, before she could face Edrout and rally the Valors of Quenlaque.

  Mrillis rode several lengths ahead of her, with Graddon behind him. Grego rode behind her. They all three stopped their horses when Mrillis vanished into the bright haze of sunlight at the end of the tunnel. Silence met him. Graddon looked over his shoulder at her. He nodded, a solemn expression suddenly vanishing in a wink. Then he nudged his mount and followed Mrillis into the light.

  Emrillian nearly shrieked when Grego moved up to her side and touched her hand. He gave her a lopsided, apologetic grin. She nodded to him and listened to the sound of the wind among trees and faint male voices conversing now outside the tunnel.

  "Come," Mrillis said, his voice strong and clear.

  She sat up straight and nudged her horse forward. She glanced at Grego and they rode forward together. The blue light covering the opening of the tunnel prickled against her skin, giving off a few sparks as she emerged into daylight. Blinking in the brightness, Emrillian held herself still and straight. She looked out over the handful of tents set up around the tower, the picketed horses, the two or three dozen people all in traveling leathers and armor. She met no eyes, but gazed off to the mountains in the distance. From the angle of the sunlight, the deep colors and shadows, sunset faded into evening.

  * * * *

  Baedrix caught his breath as the young man and the girl emerged into the daylight. A thousand impressions rushed over him as he tried to assess Athrar's heir in a few grains of time. Little could be told from a straight back, a stern face and a body covered by a cloak, yet he liked what he saw of the girl. There was strength in that face that spoke of long years of study. She looked tanned from outdoor living. That spoke of an active life. She sat her horse well, the animal quiet despite the shimmer of magic in the air from the curtain across the tunnel mouth, and the sudden outburst of barking from the sentinel dogs. That spoke of some understanding of discipline and control.

  Yes, Baedrix decided, this girl--no, not a girl, but a young woman--would make a good heir to the throne. She would be his queen. There was strength in her, visible in the way she sat her horse and faced the strangers who stared at her. A vibrancy, an eagerness to experience life, which his wife had never shown. She would make a strong queen.

  "My Lord Mrillis," Baedrix called out, stepping forward. He swept a bow to the enchanter, and then bowed to the heir and their two companions--just as Eleanora had seen in her dream. "Welcome home to Quenlaque. I am Baedrix, son of Ectrix, son of Garath, son of Garad, son of Lycen, first Regent and foster-brother to Athrar W
arhawk." He stopped twenty paces from where the four sat their horses, with a decent space of clear grass all around them.

  "In the name of Athrar and his heir, I thank you, Regent Baedrix," Mrillis responded, his voice resonant with triumph. "Behold Athrar's heir." He stood in his stirrups and beckoned. "Behold Emrillian Warhawk, true-born daughter of Athrar Warhawk and Ynfara, princess of Goarlotte. Possessor of Rey'kil magic. Destroyer of rixils and drakags. Bearer of the ring of the Warhawk. Your queen," Mrillis finished, his voice ringing out in echoes across the vale. Nothing moved except by the touch of the wind. Even the birds in the trees nearby seemed silenced by the announcement.

  She is lovely. It hurt Baedrix to think it. What must it have been like, raised by Mrillis? She is too young for this. He wondered if Emrillian knew how to smile.

  Mrillis dismounted and stepped over to Emrillian's horse, holding up his hand to help her down. She moved slowly. Despite her voluminous cloak, Baedrix saw a faint trembling in her limbs. Her calm quiet covered what was likely nerves. He wished he knew her, so he could offer her his hand and comfort. It was good he had only brought a handful of nobles and Valors to meet her, apprise her of the situation in Lygroes, and escort her home to Quenlaque. A crowd of courtiers would be overwhelming.

  * * * *

  The man who approached was a Valor, indicated by the sword at his side, dressed in black and silver, a thin silver band with a stylized Warhawk on it circling his brow. This was the Regent, Baedrix, great-grandson of her adored Garad. He only bore a slight resemblance to Garad, and Emrillian was disappointed, even as she realized that had been a foolish hope.

  She wondered if he wore black for some personal reason, or because it made him look so grave and wise. There was a trace of sadness on his face. A few thin lines of silver marred the dark waves of his hair, but no frost touched his thin beard, framing cheeks and chin. He was a good head taller than her, wide in the shoulders, moving like a trained dancer. She felt the impact of his physical presence from ten paces away and hoped Mrillis was not scanning her thoughts and reactions. Emrillian didn't want her reception spoiled by a schoolgirl crush. He was just like her favorite heroes in the romances she had read, in defiance of Mrillis' dislike of such books.

  "Highness." Baedrix went down on one knee.

  "Please, stand." She tried to smile, felt her cheeks move stiffly. "How can I speak with you if I cannot see your face?" Emrillian felt encouraged when she saw flickers of smiles on some faces close to her. He stood and she saw a sparkle of something in his eyes.

  He beckoned. A young woman and a boy stepped from the crowd and came up to join them. They both had the same dark, wavy hair, the same brightly inquisitive eyes. "This is my sister, Lady Eleanora, and my brother, Ectrix. They are at your service until you find assistants more to your choosing."

  "I thank you most gratefully," she responded, meeting first Eleanora's eyes and then Ectrix's. She liked what she saw in them.

  Magic tingled in her fingertips. Emrillian almost gasped as she felt instinctive magic stirring. It didn't have the familiar touch of Mrillis' mind. Something else moved in the mental atmosphere and her own magic awakened in response.

  With a gentle touch of magic against the minds around her, she discerned that Eleanora had imbrose. Fighting what she knew would be an idiotic, delighted smile, she nodded to them and turned back to their older brother. Emrillian kept herself from touching his mind, warned by the hint of sadness in him, and the feeling that she might drown in his eyes if she looked into them too long.

  "Please, Lord Baedrix," she went on, "teach me how to serve my father's kingdom. I would have no disruption of the prosperity you and your predecessors guarded so well." She had to fight not to cast a triumphant glimpse to Mrillis. Making pretty speeches was not so hard, she decided.

  "Gladly, Highness." Baedrix bowed. He looked relieved, as if her words had helped her pass some test.

  * * * *

  "Will there be anything else, Highness?" Eleanora asked, as Ectrix carried away the basin of used wash water.

  Emrillian thought the boy would be irked at having to play servant, but she realized in just the short time it took to meet the welcoming party and be shown to her pavilion that he was thrilled. A new system had been instituted for training Valors, because of the reduced magic in Lygroes. Boys handled the dozens of menial chores necessary in a great house and during a campaign, learning their duties from the ground up. Ectrix visibly considered it a matter of pride to do the smallest, dirtiest chore for the Warhawk's heir. Even if it was something she would have preferred to handle for herself, such as fetching her own wash water.

  "Just one." Emrillian waited until the curtain door of her pavilion stopped swinging. "Lady Eleanora, your ancestor was my father's brother. Could we be friends?"

  "You honor me." The other girl curtsied, bowing her head. She raised it a heartbeat later, eyes sparkling with mischief. Emrillian laughed, knowing they were kindred spirits despite the differences in culture.

  "And we will call each other by name, no titles, no ceremony and fuss--at least in private. Please?" she added, startled to realize she had fallen into the habit of ordering too easily. Mrillis had raised her to ask for what she wanted, not to demand or expect anything as her due.

  "Gladly. Emrillian." Eleanora's laughter was like tiny bells chiming up and down the scale. She settled down on the long, cushioned bench next to Emrillian. "Truly, I am honored that you would trust me so readily."

  "Grandfather told me of you and your brothers, and I have some sense of people. You have a bright, open spirit." Emrillian marveled at the ease she felt talking to her new friend. A sigh broke from her, half laughter. "You have an enormous burden, being my friend, helping me to understand the Court."

  "And making sure you are not overwhelmed, and protecting you from those who believe a woman should be ornamental and nothing more. The ones who won't want you to learn anything. There is so much to learn!"

  "Let me guess... You are eager to join the others and learn more about Grego and Graddon." Eleanora's blush fascinated her. "Which interests you more? The seer who has slept for centuries, or the man from another world and time?"

  "The seer is part of our history. It is strange, but I think I am more awed by Lord Grego--that is his proper title?"

  "He hasn't earned his spurs yet in this world, but yes, among the Archaics, he has proven himself a champion several times. I value him as a teacher and adviser." Emrillian sighed, feeling her spirits plummet. "These next few moons will be very hard, defending our world from attacks on all sides. Navigating the Court actually frightens me more."

  "Baedrix will help you." Eleanora clasped her hand. "My brother is one who will never lie to you, never break an oath, always give his most for the crown. Depend on him." She hesitated a moment, licking her lips. "My-- Emrillian, my brother asked me to broach a subject with you, of utmost importance and yet..." A faint blush tinged her cheeks. She looked away.

  "Of great delicacy?" She could guess what her new friend was about to say. Mrillis had warned her of certain problems she would have because she was royal and unmarried. "As in finding a suitable husband?"

  "How did-- Did you touch my mind?"

  "Not magic. Psychology." She shrugged an apology when her friend's expression showed confusion. "Psychology means a study of the way people's minds work. It lets you predict how they will react. Grandfather warned me that some people will never truly accept me as queen until I have a strong, capable husband at my side." She shook her head. "That is something I must change soon. The notion that a woman cannot do anything without a man to help her."

  "But Highness-- Emrillian." Eleanora leaned closer, voice soft, a sparkle in her eyes. "We only permit men to think we need their help. It is truly they who need ours."

  Emrillian stared, her mouth slowly dropping open. In moments, they were both laughing, and were still laughing when Ectrix and the other three Valors-in-training came in to set up the trestle table fo
r dinner. Emrillian knew her burden had decreased, now that she had a friend.

  * * * *

  Grego sighed as he wandered from the tent he would share with the Regent and Lord Carious. Everyone had something to do in the small camp, except him. Baedrix, Mrillis and Graddon had retired to the tower to speak behind closed doors. The other Valors were busy strengthening the protective shield around the Vale of Bo'Lantier. The only woman in the small company, Eleanora, was busy with Emrillian. The teenage boys, who seemed to be responsible for every chore, dashed about like birds building a nest in a hurricane.

  "Stop griping," he scolded himself. "You need time to depressurize and get used to all this. You're in Lygroes, the real Lygroes. You saw Athrar and Ynfara less than a day ago. You traveled under the sea in the company of Mrillis the enchanter. Tomorrow, you could be on a quest for Braenlicach. You'll be in charge of teaching the Valors of Quenlaque about the world outside of Lygroes, two thousand years ahead of them..." He found a nearby tree and leaned against it, hoping having something solid to grasp would fight the shifting, spinning sensation that tried to knock him off his feet.

  He was a scientist. He had never thought he was the type who could fall into a panic attack. Maybe Kayn's mockery had some element of truth to it, and the Archaics as a whole were mentally and emotionally unstable on some essential level.

  The boy, Ectrix, appeared from the lengthening shadows. "Are you all right, sir?" The aroma of roasting meats and baking bread clung to him, and Grego realized that some of his dizziness could come from hunger.

  "Fine. It's just been a long day." He offered the teenager a smile that felt more solid with every heartbeat. "A long couple of days, with more changes than you could imagine."

  "Are you a Valor, sir?"

  "In my world, yes, but I suspect I'm going to have to prove myself all over again, to the people of Lygroes," Grego admitted with a grin.

  "You are from Moerta?" Ectrix stepped closer as he spoke, eagerness making his face shine. "From the world of the future?"