The Rift War (33 page)

"We can only assume the losers are returning to Moerta and the winners are continuing
east, to us," Grego continued, as Athrar glanced over the data scrolling down the screen.

Emrillian decided to be amused at how easily, almost eagerly, her parents picked up the
use of technology and the accompanying terminology. Ynfara had learned just as much as
Athrar, from all the information and knowledge that had passed through her to him, while he
slept in the Vale of Lanteer. She couldn't decide if her parents considered it a game, to apply
what they had learned, or they soaked it up as a defensive action against all the changes that had
enfolded them. The world they remembered and had sacrificed so much to defend was gone.
Perhaps they dove into this new life to counter the pain of knowing they couldn't go back.

"How many?" Mrillis said.

"Six ships. Two are from Goarlotte-Welcairn. Kayn has already made contact, and we're
getting even more detailed information from them, now that they're convinced their sensors are
working and we're not all dying and insane from the poisoned atmosphere." He rolled his eyes
expressively and started to step over to Emrillian's bench, then glanced to her right, and changed
direction to settle down on the bench next to hers.

Emrillian glanced at Baedrix, who sat on her right, in time to see him turn to look in her
father's direction, and a faint flicker at the corner of his mouth, as if he was pleased by
something. Was it her imagination, or had he discouraged Grego from sitting next to her?

She decided not to even speculate on what had just happened. They were all tired, and
Baedrix had spent so much time defending her from insults and attacks, it was most likely a
knee-jerk reaction. After all, Grego was her friend from childhood.

Maybe that was the problem?

"So we can expect attack on our shores how soon?" she said, determined to stop that line
of thought before it led her into trouble. After all, if Baedrix were interested in her as more than
just a fellow warrior, wouldn't he have said something by now? Wouldn't he have accepted the
invitation to address her by name? If he was interested in courting her, he wouldn't insist on
calling her "Highness" and "Lady," would he?

She scolded herself for being a ninny. She would worry later, after the peace had been
won, about the conundrum of the Valor of her adolescent dreams not seeing her as a
woman.

"There've been a lot of threats and accusations exchanged between the winners of those
battles, and between them and our navy," Grego said. "If we're lucky, they'll fight each other
again, send a few more ships limping home, and give us a few more days of breathing
room."

"If we're lucky." Ynfara shook her head. "What a strange world we have leaped forward
to join."

"We have been very lucky, child. Blessed beyond all expectations, by the Estall," Mrillis
said. "You forget, many of our enemies among the other nations also have the ability to strike
through the air."

"What does that mean?" Baedrix said.

"Aircraft to carry passengers aren't made for long-distance flight. No one flies over their
own borders unless that border belongs to an ally. There is nothing that can fly people over the
ocean, and until the dome fell, there was no reason for people to want to fly over the water,"
Emrillian said. "The Death Zone played havoc with instrumentation. However, many nations are
very good at devising destructive flying devices called rockets, to hurl bombs into each other's
countries. And satellites to spy on each other. Eventually, they will recalibrate their satellites to
study Lygroes, and it will occur to them that since the Death Zone is gone, and there are people
here, they should recalibrate their rockets to attack us, also."

"You say that too easily," Athrar said, meeting her gaze. "I assume you and Mrillis have
discussed what to do, when that happens?"

"The same sky web that protected Lygroes from star-metal, in the days when we saw it
only as an enemy," Mrillis said. "We will adapt and strengthen it, to deflect rockets away from
us."

"Deflect where?" Baedrix asked. "When burning oil is deflected by a shield, it spatters
on something or someone."

"You think just like Lycen," Athrar said, nodding. "Very good. Yes, where will these
rockets be deflected?"

"First we must discern if we have that much control," Mrillis said. "I would rather trust
to diplomacy and to impressing our enemies into fearing us, so they do not dare to attack."

"Before that, we must be sure of Edrout's destruction, so he cannot ally with those
attackers and help them get past the sky web." Athrar turned to Emrillian again.

"And for that," she said, sighing, "we need the Zygradon, don't we? It is his last hope to
gain enough power to destroy us--if he is still alive."

"We need to unmake the Zygradon," Mrillis said.

"Grandfather, no!" Ynfara said, turning to clutch at his arm. "It is part of you. Unmaking
the Zygradon could kill you."

"Be assured, my dear, I have thought for many years about just such a need, and how to
prevent that...uncomfortable side effect," he said, chuckling softly and patting her hand.

* * * *

Grandmother?
Baedrix stood in the shadows of the main courtyard of
Quenlaque Castle in the darkest, coldest hour of the night, holding his horse still and quiet, and
pushed as hard as he could with all his increased
imbrose.
Meghianna, Queen of
Snows, can you hear me?

I much prefer when you call me Grandmother,
Meghianna responded, laughter
chiming through the Threads.
What is wrong, Baedrix?

Lord Mrillis proposes to unmake the Zygradon. Can't you stop him?

Ah... Yes, we come to that exigency, don't we?

Exigency?
He didn't know whether to be comforted by how calmly she reacted
to the news, or infuriated.

Understand two things, my dear grandson. First, Mrillis is an old man, even
compared to me.
Her breath of laughter was more a sigh this time.
He has the right to
rest. Being bound to the Zygradon as he is, he will never rest. And second, the Zygradon was in
many respects a mistake.

How?
He didn't care that he sounded like a frustrated child in his own
mind.

It was created with disregard for the implications of gathering all the Threads of
the world together in one nexus point. Mrillis was bound to the Zygradon to protect that nexus
point, so the enemy could not take control. By bringing Lygroes forward to the modern world,
sharing the power of the Threads... It will be wiser, easier to protect them, to have the Threads
scattered. Easier to share the power more equally. And less of a danger to Mrillis, if someone
should learn how to drain the power so quickly, so thoroughly, that it kills him and destroys the
Zygradon, and in doing so, unmakes the entire world.

To protect him...we must risk his life?

Perhaps.
A sensation like an ethereal arm brushing his shoulders passed over
him.
Trust in the Estall, Grandson. And do not borrow tomorrow's troubles. Today has
enough trouble--and today you have a heavy duty ahead of you. Before we can unmake the
Zygradon, you must find it.

I'm not telling you anything new, am I?

You can't imagine how it pleases me, that you would turn to me in your turmoil. No,
nothing is secret from me. Mrillis and I are in nearly constant communication. And I promise
that as you and Emmi journey, seeking the Zygradon, I will be with you both. I believe your
companions are coming.

Baedrix looked around and caught a flicker of movement on the far side of the
courtyard, a lighter shadow among the blackness where the torches on the walls didn't reach. He
hadn't heard hooves.

Baedrix?
Emrillian called.

Here, by the gate. Thank you, Grandmother.

Be sure I will not let anything happen to either of you, nor to Mrillis. I've waited
long enough for the infuriating man to wake up to what's under his nose, I'm certainly not going
risk losing him at the last moment.

Grandmother?
Baedrix fought a rising sensation of horrified fascination and
realization.

Silly boy. Did you think only the young have hungry hearts? Did you think only the
young need to be touched and held and adored?

No. But--

Men are the Estall's most oblivious creations. Take some advice, my dear, and don't
make Emrillian wait as long as Mrillis has made me wait.
With a ripple of laughter, her
voice was gone from the Threads.

"What did Aunt Meggi say?" Emrillian asked, as she and Grego emerged from the
shadows to join him.

"I was asking her about the Zygradon," Baedrix said, relieved to have something truthful
to say. He didn't know what shocked him more: the idea of Meghianna and Mrillis as
sweethearts, or the chance that Meghianna might just approve of his slowly growing affection for
Emrillian.

"Well, here we go. I didn't say it before, with everything else going on, but I think I
should warn you," Grego said, as Baedrix led the way through the small man door beside the
gates, which were closed for the night.

"The resonance from the Zygradon is fading?" Emrillian said.

Baedrix looked back in time to see her rest a hand on Grego's shoulder.

"It's all right. I'm not worried. The sound itself is embedded in my flesh and mind. We
still need you, but..."

"But I'm not the only asset we have." Grego offered Baedrix a brave, stiff smile. "Thank
the Estall for that."

* * * *

Emrillian knew Baedrix felt uncomfortable about it just being the three of them in
search of the Zygradon this time, but she agreed with Mrillis, and so did her father. Smaller
numbers would let them move more quickly, more invisibly, with less noise and interference
from the
imbrose
of others, and time was of the essence. The plan was simple enough:
return to the ruined manor house where Edrout had attacked them and they had heard and felt the
main trunk of the Thread of the Zygradon resonate. Once they had found the Thread, they would
follow it to the Zygradon's hiding place.

Even if there were Encindi forces somewhere in the land, and even if they were crazed
with fear and bent on revenge, the three of them were more than capable of defending
themselves with magic. If Edrout had managed to survive the power siphon being turned on him
and the cataclysm that sent the southern tip of Lygroes into the sea, he could be too weak to find
them through magic or any other means.

And if he had enough magic to find them, being surrounded by half the Warhawk's
armies wouldn't be enough to protect Emrillian any better than she could protect herself.

Her parents didn't like her riding out with only two companions, under the threat of a
mortal enemy who undoubtedly blamed her for his two most grievous defeats in centuries.
However, they agreed with her desire to endanger as few people as possible on her behalf. The
fewer hostages Edrout could use against her, the better.

"This is definitely much faster," Grego commented as the first silvery glow of dawn
showed against the horizon far to their left. The ragged clearing that used to be the ruined estate
was visible as a lighter patch among the darkness of the forest that slowly reclaimed its ancient
territory.

"We didn't have that many people with us the first time we came this way," Emrillian
retorted.

"True."

"Highness, perhaps--" Baedrix began.

"Please, won't you ever call me by my name?" Emrillian tried not to whine, but she
considered him a friend now. They had spilled blood for each other, supported each other, fought
together. She wondered if she was overreacting, to be so hurt when he insisted putting up the
wall of titles and ranks between them.

"I will try." He met her gaze for a moment, then looked ahead to their destination.

"You were starting to relax before. What changed between us?"

"Something Lady Meghianna said last night."

"What? You kept secrets from us?" She pretended shock, pressing her gloved hand over
her heart. To her relief, he grinned at her instead of being irritated.

"I asked her about the threat to Lord Mrillis, if we succeed in unmaking the Zygradon.
She assured me that she hadn't waited so long for him to... I believe her words were 'notice what
was right under his nose,' that she would risk losing him now." Baedrix shook his head. "It
boggles the mind, to think that she would have such feelings for him."

"Really?" A bubble of laughter burst out of her, despite the need to keep their voices
low, to avoid them carrying in the early morning quiet. "I'm sure Grandfather will be delighted.
There are times, things he's said when talking of her, a look in his eye, that made me sure he is
sweet on her, too. It would be lovely if we could be secure enough, have enough peace, to allow
them to pursue that dream."

"All right, then I wasn't hallucinating," Grego said. He hunched his shoulders and leaned
forward in the saddle, to see around Emrillian to Baedrix. "I could have sworn I saw them sneak
into a dark corner during the feast, down by Wynystrys, and steal a couple kisses. I thought I was
imagining it, because maybe I'm no expert, but that sure didn't look like old friends saying hello
after a long absence."

"You don't mind?" Baedrix said, when Emrillian's smile grew wider.

"Oh, I admit it feels odd. Consider it--my grandfather and my aunt, sweethearts. I have
to remember that they are not related by blood, and there are many generations between them,
and between him and me and..." She shrugged. "I'm glad for them. Please, blessed Estall, let
them finally have happiness together."

"She said you're never too old for love."

"Or too young?" Grego offered.

"What does that mean?" Baedrix snapped.