The Rift War (3 page)

"They are working." Grego swallowed hard. "Working too well. I'm thinking someone
else has been working on the programming and adding it to mine. The first test went
spectacularly well. Today. Kayn was in my office, watching practically over my shoulder, when
an enormous deposit of star-metal was found right here on the coast."

"The tunnel," Mrillis said. He stroked his beard, lips pursed in thought.

"They'll come right here, before they go out to the Death Zone," Emrillian said. "How
could they resist all that star-metal, here for the taking? Grandfather, we're not ready."

"Since when does prophecy require that we be ready?" he responded, shaking his head.
"And you are partially wrong, my dear. The star-metal is not here for the taking. They must
penetrate quite a few defensive spells to find the tunnel."

"And if they think to bring Grego's power siphon? If they decide to activate it, to help
them find the star-metal when your spells block the way? How long will the defensive spells
stand against them when the Threads are attacked and drained?"

"It's worse," Grego said. "Kayn is probably halfway to getting the legal right to
confiscate your house and grounds, in the name of national security."

"Then we will not be here, will we?" Mrillis said with just a touch of smirk in his dark
eyes, curving the corners of his mouth, visible through his thick beard.

"Grandfather, we're not ready," Emrillian repeated.

"It is time to take the throne." He stood and gestured at the house. "You need to wash,
and Grego and I will get something to eat. I fear we will have a very long night of talking and
planning, and it is best not to do that on an empty stomach."

* * * *

Mrillis and Grego detoured through the kitchens to request food from Layessi, one of
the Rey'kil who had come from Lygroes to help raise Emrillian. While Emrillian washed up, they
headed upstairs to the library and music room that took up half of the third floor of the house and
looked out over the sea. A full suit of armor, shimmering softly with lavender, silver, and blue
light, hung on a manikin stand in a corner of the room by the enormous arched windows. Grego
inhaled sharply in admiration--and relief, knowing Emrillian's armor was done. Then it occurred
to him that that meant she would indeed go into battle against Edrout, just as she had vowed
when she was a child.

The armor was woven of fine chain mail, with the Warhawk crest in blue gemstones
worked into the right shoulder, and the starburst emblem of the Estall blazoned across the chest
in diamonds and topaz.

Grego thought about how little star-metal had been retrieved from the bottom of the sea,
at great expense and effort, and shivered at the estimate of how much this suit of armor was
worth. It could purchase the entire eastern coast of Moerta, for a hundred kilometers inland.
Kayn and the entire military of Goarlotte-Welcairn would have strokes if they ever learned this
much tamed star-metal was only a few kilometers from the Science Directorate's
headquarters.

He thought of the legal hoops and hurdles various members of the Science Directorate
would go through, to confiscate this suit of armor--claiming it was being done for the common
good of their country, in defense against their many enemies. Emrillian and Mrillis would be
branded enemies of civilization if they resisted in any way. They could even be branded terrorists
for possessing so much star-metal, which, until Grego and his associates developed the refining
process, had been considered more dangerous and destructive than any weaponry civilization had
ever created. It wouldn't help their case in any way if Emrillian announced her identity as
Warhawk's Heir--technically, ruler of the entire planet. That is, if kings and queens and nobility
hadn't been made obsolete, even outlawed in some countries, centuries ago.

"We have to contact Karstis and Shalara, at the very least. Tonight," Emrillian said,
when she joined Mrillis and Grego in the library a short time later. "We test them with
star-metal, and leave them with Liris to give them some basic lessons. They can recruit and
indoctrinate the others."

Even though he had seen Emrillian in these same clothes many times before, it was as if
Grego saw her for the first time. His perspective had changed, not her. Emrillian had always
dressed in a somewhat Archaic style. Old-style loose trousers and the long tunic with cuffed
sleeves suited her. They belonged in this setting, the deep shelves jammed with scrolls and
tablets, as well as ancient bound books and the newer plasti-sheet volumes, and every reading
device that had ever been devised. There was a museum's worth of the history of the recorded
word in this room. Mrillis had collected most of it.

Emrillian had always looked the part of a warrior princess in hiding. She had been more
at home among the Archaics than the modern world: talking battle strategy with historians,
discussing weaponry design and tactics with arms-masters and artisans, risking bruises and
broken bones in the tournaments and competitions that ignored all the political and geographical
boundaries and barriers across Moerta. She had earned her spurs as a Valor five times over.

Now, knowing that soon all her years of practice and study would become reality, made
Grego see her differently. He thought of the various legends of Athrar being raised in hiding, to
emerge victorious through the smoke of danger and destruction. Emrillian would make new
legends soon, through no choice of her own. Grego hoped she would live long enough to hear all
the variations of the tales of her heroism.

The three of them settled in the deep sofas arranged in a square in the center of the
room. Grego couldn't count all the times he had come to see Emrillian, and found her here in the
library, lost in other times and places and lives. That was all about to change, and he had been
part of bringing about that change. It didn't help that he had stayed working on the star-metal
project at Mrillis and Emrillian's request.

"I will miss this place," Mrillis said, after Layessi had brought up a little wheeled cart
loaded with trays of food and pitchers of hot and cold drinks. "Meghianna first bought this estate,
and she and I have taken turns coming here through the centuries, adding to the building,
collecting the records of the growth and change of civilization, observing history as it happened.
Utterly fascinating, in many ways. And depressing, how humanity repeats itself over and over,
never learning from the mistakes of history. Of course, it could be because the victors always
rewrite history to paint themselves in a better light, and to deny that the losers even existed or
that they might have been in the right."

"Grandfather, Grego doesn't need that sort of lecture right now." Emrillian winked at
Grego and tucked her legs up under herself. "Neither do I."

"Quite right." He took a deep breath and leaned back against the deep maroon cushions
of his favorite seat.

They nibbled and sipped and talked, and in a short time worked out the details of how
they would break the news to their two Archaics friends. Mrillis went to notify the household
staff that it was time to prepare to return to Lygroes. Grego joined Emrillian at the
communication screen, to call Karstis and Shalara and ask them to come to the house. He had the
time now to find it ironic that both of their Archaics friends were also members of the Science
Directorate, charged with internal security and defensive protocol.

"Sometimes Grandfather gets irritating because he says it so often, but maybe this time
it really is a very visible part of the Estall's plan," Emrillian said, when Grego shared his thoughts
with her. Then her first com-request went through, and Karstis came on the screen.

"Sorry. Can't," the big, broad-shouldered, red-haired man said. The perspective made
Grego think he was using a portable com-screen, not talking to them from his home. "Some
emergency meeting at the Directorate. Big hush-hush, but they're talking about moving out
within the next moon-quarter. In fact, my cart is just pulling up in front."

"Check with Shalara when you're done, will you?" Emrillian said. "It's vitally important.
She'll have amazing things to tell you."

"Will do."

"Kar, I'm speaking as your district commander, as well as your friend. This is something
you and the scholars in our district would die for."

"Oh, and you expect me to go into this meeting now and be able to concentrate?" He
laughed, and his hand approached the screen, preparing to turn it off.

"Just trust me, and believe everything Shalara tells you." She sighed. "The Estall bless
you until I see you again."

Karstis nodded, his expression going somber, and the image died.

"What if Shalara can't come either?" Grego muttered, as Emrillian tapped the next
com-request code into the com-system.

Fortunately, Shalara wasn't required to attend the same meeting as Karstis, and she was
close enough, coming back from a shopping excursion after work, that she would arrive in
fifteen minutes. Grego and Emrillian kept busy in the interim, packing the star-metal armor and
doing an inventory of the other star-metal pieces she had created in her years of training: knives,
necklaces, bracelets, pins, rings, bow guards, browbands. Emrillian kept out a browband for
Karstis, and an assortment of rings and bracelets for their other Archaics friends who would be
recruited in the next few days. The bow guard sat on the table in the middle of the square of
couches when Shalara arrived. Mrillis had waited for her downstairs, and the two were engaged
in laughing conversation as they came up the long flight of winding stairs.

Grego tried to look at Shalara as if he had never seen her before. Long and lean and
graceful, she wore her ebony hair short. She disdained jewelry and cosmetics as a waste of time
and money, but he knew there was a large handful of men among their Archaics friends who
would argue and say she was beautiful. Shalara was an archery champion, taking first or second
place in nearly every competition and tournament she entered. Her goal was to earn enough
prestige points to reach the rank of Stronghold Guardian before the age of twenty-five.

He laughed silently now, wondering how she would react when she learned the
Stronghold still existed, and Meghianna, Queen of Snows, to whom all female Archaics vowed
their honor and allegiance, was alive. And not only alive, but aunt to Emrillian. He suspected
Shalara would consider that more stunning and wonderful news than learning that
Emrillian--their friend, with whom they laughed and argued over weapon design and dreamed of days of
heroic deeds--was the daughter and heir of Athrar Warhawk.

"So what's up?" Shalara said, after she had filled a plate and cup, and settled down on
the long couch next to Emrillian. "It sounded rather serious. Don't tell me those idiots in Waylas
are trying to outlaw the Archaics as a cult again, and we need to go help people sneak over the
border?"

"Ten times more serious and world-shaking, I'm afraid," Emrillian said. She tugged the
cloth napkin off the bow guard, sitting on the table. Blue and white light shot out in all
directions, Shalara froze, eyes wide and dazzled.

"What is that?" she whispered. She scrambled to put her plate down on the floor before
her trembling hands dropped it. She stared at her fingers, which now shimmered with blue and
green and yellow light.

"That is a bow guard made of star-metal," Grego said. "And it's yours. Emmi made it
just today for you."

"Me?" Her voice cracked. "This is a joke, a lighting trick, right?" She shook her head,
looked at the three of them in turn, then turned back to the bow guard. Through the light
reflecting off her face, Grego was sure he saw greedy wistfulness. "For star-metal to react like
that, according to the lore..." She shook her head again.

"You have
imbrose
," Emrillian said. "That's why I made it for you. To enhance
your inborn magic and give you strength."

She scooped up the new bow guard with a carelessness Grego knew was calculated. He
knew she could control the inherent power there because she had 'befriended' the star-metal, as
her great-great-grandmother, Ceera, Queen of Snows had termed it, but he couldn't help wincing
just the same. When Shalara didn't resist, Emrillian tugged up her loose sleeve and slid the guard
into place. Green and yellow light flared, encapsulating her for three heartbeats, before sinking
into her skin and dying away. All but for a soft shimmer around the bow guard.

"That means the star-metal accepts you," Mrillis said. It was totally unnecessary,
because all devoted Archaics knew star-metal lore. Emrillian had fought long and hard to make
sure that, among the Archaics at least, the truth of
imbrose
and star-metal overrode all
the speculations and fables that had grown up over the centuries.

Shalara let out a long, soft sigh that wavered at the end. She sank back in the couch,
running her fingers over the design engraved into the metal, the lamp and scroll emblem of the
Stronghold, surrounded by a tracery of grapevines, with clusters of arrowheads instead of
grapes.

"Okay." She swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and finally looked around at the three
of them again. "Something very serious and dangerous is going on. I know how much this is
worth, after all the security work I've done, related to Grego's project. You're in serious trouble,
if Kayn and his goons learn you have this much tamed star-metal here--and you used it for
something so frivolous."

"Not frivolous," Mrillis said. "We face imminent war that will change the fate of this
entire planet, and we are asking you to take oath with us and help recruit others among the
Archaics who have
imbrose
as you do."

"
Imbrose
." She closed her eyes, nodding, and turned to Grego when she opened
them again. "Do you-- Ah, of course." She managed a crooked smile when he held out his hand
with purple and blue light dancing around his star-metal ring. "What's going on, what has
happened to bring on war, and what do you want from me, besides being a recruiter?"