The Rift War (13 page)

"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?"

"Yes. You're the Regent's brother, right? Ectrix."

"Yes. Our family has been charged with protecting Quenlaque since the days of Lycen,
foster-brother of the Warhawk."

"An important, loyal man. Lord Mrillis spoke very highly of your brother."

"He is always working for the good of Quenlaque." A wistful look touched the boy's
face. "When the queen releases him, he will take me questing to earn my spurs."

"I wish someone could take me questing," he responded without thinking.

"If you like, I could ask my brother to take you questing with us," Ectrix offered.

"Thanks. I appreciate that." He tried not to laugh. The boy was certainly more polite and
considerate that his modern counterparts. Grego could see he didn't really want a stranger, even
an exotic one, sharing his trip with his brother. "I don't know what Emmi-- What Her Majesty
plans, so I can't accept any offers."

"Are you here to marry her?"

"What?" His brain froze up for a few seconds, so he could only stare at the boy. "Where
would you get an idea like that?"

"Baedrix and Eleanora thought the heir might bring a consort, to unite the two
worlds."

"Emrillian is already the unification of the two worlds." He spoke slowly as he searched
for words to voice what he had picked up from Mrillis and Emrillian, but never directly
discussed. "Anyway, I'm practically engaged--betrothed," he corrected, when the boy's forehead
wrinkled a little with the obvious question. Grego winced, realizing he hadn't thought of Brysta
since he walked out of his house two nights ago. Were they really close enough to think about
marriage? She had mentioned the idea a few times, mostly at the urging of their circle of friends
in the Science Directorate. Grego had always hesitated, even when he had been operating under
the influence of the mind-shielding spell, something had held him back from making such a
commitment. "I think it would be better if she married a Valor of this world, someone to help her
understand and guide her people."

"That was what I thought." The boy looked pleased that he shared his opinion. "She
should marry my brother. He knows how to rule. Naylia is dead, and I heard Lady Vrissa saying
it was time to find another wife for him."

"Matchmakers even here," Grego muttered, smiling. "Why don't we let the queen decide
for herself?"

"Decide what?" Mrillis said, startling them both.

"You're done--of course you're done," Grego corrected himself, feeling like an idiot.
Baedrix and Graddon and Carious stood behind Mrillis, and the door of the tower a few dozen
steps away hung open. Their meeting had ended at the perfect moment to catch him unawares.
The last thing he wanted to do was come across as a tongue-tied fool, and ruin Emrillian's first
impression with the people who would support her campaign to protect Lygroes.

"Baedrix should marry the queen. He's the strongest Valor, and even the lords in Court
who don't like him will follow him," Ectrix said. He went a little pale, and his chin tilted up in
the air as he spoke, making a lie of his brave, calm voice and expression.

"It never changes," Graddon rumbled, his rough voice rich with laughter. "No matter
how many centuries a man sleeps, politics and matchmaking never cease their eternal
tangle."

"Indeed, that is the queen's choice, and something she must leave for later. There are far
more important things to deal with," Baedrix said.

Grego had no idea from the Regent's expression or his voice if his brother's words
affected him in any way. This man had learned all the tricks of keeping his thoughts and feelings
to himself.

"Like what?" Ectrix challenged.

"Edrout will know soon that Athrar's heir has returned," Carious said. "If he hasn't felt
the reaction in the Threads already. We set out in the morning on our quests."

"Quests? How many?" The boy looked to his brother, who grinned and rested a hand on
his shoulder.

"You could earn your spurs very soon," Baedrix said, nodding. "Lord Grego?"

"Just Grego. Until I've earned my spurs, too," Grego added, offering a grin to
Ectrix.

"You will play an important role, and I will ask you to trust in my brother and my sister
to guide you." He glanced at Mrillis and Graddon. Both men nodded. "Many in Quenlaque do
not remember that Athrar's heir is a daughter. You have
imbrose
, and you are a face no
one has seen before. Your resonance of magic is unfamiliar."

"A decoy." He took a deep breath, fighting the giddy sensation that mixed with that
falling feeling of apprehension he had felt the first time he entered a tournament and realized he
was outweighed and under-armed. "Let me guess. I will go to Quenlaque Castle, riding out in the
open with an escort, and let everyone think I'm the Warhawk's heir, while you and Emrillian will
go around through a back way."

"Close," Mrillis said. "Graddon and I will go to the Wayhauk Mountains to assess our
enemy's strengths. You will present a decoy and distraction, staying here until Shalara and
Karstis arrive with their recruits. Emrillian will go to the Stronghold to awaken Meghianna, and
retrieve Braenlicach."

"That's where it's hidden?" Ectrix said, eyes wide and shining. "Why didn't anyone tell
us?"

"That is exactly why," Grego offered. "If nobody knows, nobody will ruin the secret,
and the sword is that much safer from Edrout."

He met Baedrix's gaze. The Regent nodded, but there was a somberness in his eyes that
made Grego suspect the star-metal sword's location had been a secret and burden he had carried
alone.

* * * *

"The land is still shifting, crumbling, rising and falling in unexpected ways and places.
We learned in my grandfather's day to conduct a new survey every five years." Baedrix unrolled
the thick roll of parchment that Martus, the tower guardian, handed him. "This is the most recent
view of the land, as of a little more than a year ago."

"Thank you, Lord Baedrix," Emrillian murmured. "You do realize you have your work
cut out for you, educating me about Lygroes, don't you?" She leaned forward and studied the
map. Next to it on the table lay a map Mrillis had produced.

The others gathered in her pavilion watched her. She could feel it. The weight of their
attention pressed on her shoulders and made her head ache. Almost as weighty was the
realization that because she acted as queen in her father's place, she might never have privacy
again. Her pavilion was, in effect, the center of the government. Her lips quirked up in silent
amusement when she decided to be grateful there were a little less than three dozen people in the
welcoming party. How could she have fit hundreds into this pavilion?

Then she really looked at the maps. The differences between them tore at her heart. Her
vision blurred and she realized tears filled her eyes. Emrillian blinked them away and finally
looked up.

"Grandfather, you told me how it was, but it wasn't real until now." She gestured at the
two maps. Seeing the questions on the faces of those closest to her, she continued. "The modern
world only has maps that have come down from legend, like this map." She pointed at the one
Mrillis had brought out. "The Death Zone keeps people from approaching the shores of
Quenlaque. Their spy drones cannot fly over, their satellites cannot take pictures, to discern the
actual shape of our land."

"Fly?" Martus asked, his voice cracking. The Valor hunched his shoulders when
attention fastened on him.

"How can people fly if there is no magic among them? There are no Vales in Moerta,"
Eleanora said.

"Technology," Mrillis answered. "But we are here to learn about Lygroes, not Moerta.
Lord Grego will be your teacher when that time comes. You were saying, Emmi?"

"The people of Moerta know little about the boundaries of Lygroes. That is our
advantage--but only for a short while--when the enchantment ends." Emrillian felt a smile
inching across her lips. This was beginning to sound like her old lessons with Mrillis, which put
her on more familiar ground.

"What other danger will we face, besides the chaos from the dome falling, and Edrout
trying to take advantage of the renewed magic?" Baedrix said, his voice soft.

"The feuding governments of Moerta could very well put aside their squabbling to
attack us, trying to take control of magic, to aid in their quest to subjugate the others. The
government of the land where we lived will soon try to tap the energy of the Threads, to use in
weaponry. We must wrest that power away from their machines, limiting them to our type of
warfare, hand-to-hand, armed conflict. Our enemies will not work together, but they don't need
to work together if they all battle to defeat us."

"The only way to win that conflict is to prepare," Grego put in. From the somber calm of
his voice, Emrillian knew he understood more as each second went by. "That's what you need me
for."

"The other Archaics, who should arrive soon. There are many, I believe, who would
renounce their citizenship and swear fealty to the Warhawk throne, to defend our land against the
modern world."

"Thousands," he whispered. He leaned forward, fastening his gaze on the map. "When I
think of the hundreds of hours our Archaics gatherings spent in discussions about the legends.
What we would do if Athrar really would come back, how much we would be willing to sacrifice
for the old ideals..." A snort of laughter escaped him. "I always had a hard time not spilling the
truth. When our friends realize that we just sat there, listening to them talk and dream and brag,
and never admitted the legends were true, that Athrar would return...that he was your father.
Emmi, I still have no idea if they'll hug you, bow at your feet, or try to strangle you!"

"Who would dare attack the High Queen?" Carious snarled.

"Peace, Lord Carious," Mrillis said. "It is the modern way of talk. How would you feel if
your closest friend kept secret from you the fulfillment of your fondest dream? Wouldn't you
threaten destruction, in jest?"

Carious and other Valors exchanged disgruntled, dismayed looks. Emrillian missed it,
but someone smiled and someone else shrugged, and soon the tension fled. Her loyal Valors
understood. Some things, she realized with a lightheaded feeling of relief, would never
change.

"We will need all the warriors of the Archaics when the time comes," Mrillis said.
"Your task, Grego, is to prepare the people of Quenlaque so they will not misunderstand or insult
our allies."

"A huge task," Baedrix said. "Please, Lord Grego, teach me and my companions first, so
we can help you. It will take longer, but there will be definite results."

"You mean instead of a
stranger
trying to change your way of life?" Grego
asked, grinning.

They studied the map, comparing the new land to the old. Emrillian stayed silent, letting
Mrillis and Baedrix lead the discussion. It felt strange to hear the names of legend bandied about
as if the events were only a few years before. She had wanted to visit the vales, walk along the
white sand beaches of the south, ride through the mountains of the north, sail along the rivers.
Mrillis
had
told her the landscape had changed, but it had merely been part of the story
until that moment.

A glance at Grego, when she could no longer bear to look at the disparate maps, showed
he felt what she did.

"What about the Encindi?" Emrillian asked. "What have they been doing all this
time?"

"Breeding, training, growing angrier. And reviving the blood magic, from all
indications." Baedrix ran his finger down the mountain range on his map, and then down the
larger, wider mountain range on the old map of Lygroes. It still neatly and effectively divided the
continent. Emrillian was comforted that the people of Quenlaque held more than two-thirds of
the land, and the Wayhauk Mountains took up nearly a third of what remained. "As far as our
scouts can tell, they are moving out again for the first time in thirty years. And they are also
building up their defenses. That was their greatest flaw before--they concentrated on attack, not
defense."

"Moving out how?" She sat back, keeping her gaze on the map.

"Mostly movement through the mountains, finding their way through the new passages,
discovering which old ones have been blocked. The time was when assignment to the border
patrol was for young men who had just earned their spurs, and for the very old who still wished
to be useful. There was more danger from the terrain than the Encindi, but the duty was still
honorable and necessary. Now--" Baedrix shrugged. "In the past few years it has become
something of a bane and a challenge. Those who crave glory bought at peril of their lives ask for
such duty."