Tectonic Levitation

  I didn’t ask to be the Mother—I never wanted it. Given the choice, I would never have willingly volunteered. To be worshiped by all of Gaea, imprisoned in that terrible place, and later hunted by the Senate. The thought that this fate may one day be pressed upon my own child weighs on my soul, but . . . it is our only chance. One day, she must learn. One day, she will return and learn the truth of the broken world that was left to her. The buried secrets behind the Mother Project, the threat of the Cydenges, and the nightmare that is Gaea. Lynchazel . . . oh, Lynchazel.

  — From Lynchazel’s Vault, Svenhal 15, 2323

  (Norvaen 23, 997—Night Season)

  That night, I met White once again in my dreams.

  She was more cheerful this time, and took me to see a memory of my life at the orphanage.

  Lentha was there, her brown hair streaked with a touch of grey from her middle years, as well as little Tommy and the rest of the children. The day was a Sunlit one, and radiant white light streamed in through the windows that faced the street as I washed dishes with Phoebe. We were around nine or ten years of age, our hair pinned up in matching ponytails. The children were playing, and Phoebe and I were conversing back and forth with Lentha.

  It was odd, that feeling of detachment that I felt as my own body moved and talked of its own volition. It was just some silly banter about one of the neighbor boys and his latest stunt that had gotten him in trouble, but I . . . remembered the conversation. How had I forgotten it?

  “Now, Lyn,” Lentha said presently from across the room as she wiped the table, “I don’t want you running off and getting into trouble, either. I trust you’ll be a good girl this week.”

  My ten-year-old self jerked slightly at that, heat rising to my cheeks. I had only meant to catch the little cat, not break down that man’s door. Sometimes I got going too fast for my own good, but was that really my fault . . . ? Yes, I supposed it was.

  Phoebe gave me a small nudge as she wiped a silver plate with her rag. “Well, are you gonna?”

  “Of course!” My voice came out not only high and childlike but almost strangled from guilt. I heard Lentha chuckle from behind me.

  I grabbed another cup from the pan of water we were working in and, clearing my throat, tried to change the subject to something less embarrassing than accidents and boys.

  The memory went on like this for another minute, after which it began to slip away. My detachment from my ten-year-old self grew larger, until the scene vanished and my dreams changed to something else entirely.

  ??

  (Norvaen 24, 997—Night Season)

  The next day, I felt like I couldn’t look anyone in the face, particularly Mandrie and Mydia. We didn’t tell either of them of the incident with Fraid and his band, even though they’d surely hear of it at some point. I stayed in a partitioned guest room near the Queen’s tower (her very same tower) in the Palace with Phoebe and Mandrie, while Kaen had gone to stay with Inno and Ruel in the soldiers’ barracks.

  We stood once more in the upper council chamber, which had been nicknamed the strategy room for now. The meeting was a usual occurrence these days, especially for Rhidea and Mydia. Today’s topic was twofold: how to respond to the Archlord on his proposition, and how to go about finding this gateway to the other world.

  Bart, Gaela, Mydia and Marshal Lanthar all agreed that the Archlord’s proposal was fair. That sentiment was unanimous, as everyone was relieved that Domon had been so accommodating in the end. Granted, it was mostly due to our mission and promise to cooperate with him on his quest. I still felt like we had slightly different goals regarding that, but for now at least, we were aligned. Ethas Gandel, Mydia’s regent, was also present, but seemed hesitant to cast a vote with her present. I couldn’t tell what he thought of the deal.

  Then we began to explain the details regarding the Archlord’s mission and our hunt for Gaea. Another world, far away from Mani. And we were going to find it. Rhidea would head the expedition, the same group as we took to Ti’Vaeth. Again, Mydia insisted on coming despite the rest of us trying to object, and had already arranged it with Lord Gandel. I had to admit, she had been quite useful during our previous journey. Her illusions and powers of healing were invaluable.

  Mydia was already getting all manner of flak for her month-long disappearance, and this one would be longer, so Ethas’ agreement to continue in her place was one step toward keeping the officials happy. With effort, she convinced her Queensguard to stay and protect Ethas instead, as it didn’t make sense to inflate our group so much this time, and he would soon be the king anyway. If she somehow didn’t return from our trip, then . . . well, it was official.

  Wait . . . that means that stuck-up Syneria is going to be directly related to a queen, I realized.

  We would have obstacles. The first and most obvious one would be the great chasm called the Sea of Emptiness. The Archlord said that the gateway we sought would be on the other side, and Rhidea agreed. It made a sort of sense to me—no one seemed to know what lay over the endless Sea of Emptiness. If there was a world past there . . . well, then that must be where we needed to go.

  “The Isle of Scathii.”

  It was Gaela who spoke. We all turned to look at her, Rhidea nodding.

  “Scathii,” the regal noblewoman repeated. “One of the sky islands to the east, further from the shore. The locals are not said to be very accommodating, but knowledgeable—surely they know some secrets about the Sea if anyone does.”

  “It is the logical place to start,” Rhidea said. “I have never thought to search among them, because I never sought to go beyond the Great Chasm.”

  “Why do you call it a chasm?” Kaen asked, shaking his head. “It doesn’t make any sense. You’re saying there’s more land on the eastern side, past the islands?”

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Rhidea thought for a moment. “Possibly only in the east . . . Or in all directions.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. It was still hard to believe that our world could be so big. The entire world as we knew it, the continent of Argent, took upwards of two months to traverse in whole, even on horseback. Over three thousand miles. And there was more?

  We left at dawn on the next day, the first light of the Sunlit Cycle. It was good to see the sun once again. Randhorn, here we come.

  (San’Hal 3, 997—Zenith)

  The old stone castle of Randhorn was a familiar sight by now. The great stone walls greeted us with that same timeless implacability. The guards standing watch atop the walls pointed upon seeing us and the gatemen stood taller as we rode up. “Lady Rhidea!” said the man on the left, saluting. “Lady Mydia!”

  “It’s Queen Mydia,” I said as we rode past them.

  “My apologies,” the man murmured, causing a smile to spring to my lips.

  We rode onward toward the court of King Fenwel, where we left our horses with the stablemen. The king himself came out to greet us, raising his arms, a warm smile on his aged face. “Welcome,” he called. “Welcome, friends.”

  “My lord,” Rhidea said, stepping up to embrace her liege. Then Mydia ran up and hugged him, and he patted her hair fondly. He was one of those people who could exude a great strength at the same time as an equally great kindness.

  “I assume that you and your entourage come bringing news?” asked the grey-headed king.

  “News we have,” Rhidea affirmed. “And more.”

  “Come in, come in,” said Fenwel, turning and waving us toward the large oaken doors. “We can speak inside.”

  He led us through hallways, past stairwells and into the deeper parts of the Palace, past uniformed servants and ornate decorations. Tapestries depicting ancient legends lined some walls.

  Eventually, we came to one of his audience chambers, a smaller one than the one used for when he held court every week. The interior decorative theme was dark, but not depressingly so. A couple of windows were at the back, taller ones with drapes half open, allowing Sol’s white light to pour through. We all took seats and got down to business.

  “The Wellspring,” Fenwel said, his face growing serious. “Did you find it?”

  Rhidea took a breath. “Yes. We found it. And then we made a deal with Archlord Domon.”

  The king shook his head. “So, it’s as the messengers said. I heard briefly of it. I cannot believe that snake is actually willing to let Nytaea off so easily. But . . . I have only heard vague reports. Tell me the details.”

  We explained in great detail, leaving out nothing of importance from the king. Fenwel took it all in with a somber face and a lot of nodding and “hmm . . .”

  “And that is what we had in mind as we set out from Nytaea once more,” Rhidea finished. “One way or another, we are not returning for a while. We will cross that chasm and find what lies beyond.”

  Fenwel stroked his grey beard. “My scholars speak of the theory that the world of Mani is actually round, not flat. Well, rounded. I don’t understand it myself.”

  “The idea, my lord, is that instead of the earth underneath our feet being one flat plane with gravity pulling downward directionally, the earth is actually conformed to a smooth, round curve, with gravity pulling toward a center far below.”

  Fenwel nodded at the explanation, as though it made sense.

  “My head,” Kaen groaned. “My head, it just . . .” He turned to Mydia. “What on Mani did she just say?”

  “Um . . . I think it was something to do with gravity—”

  “Never mind, I don’t want to know. I’ll just ignore the rest of this conversation.”

  I snorted at the background banter. Most of my attention was on Rhidea and Fenwel’s discussion. I was trying to follow it, as was Mydia.

  “But the Sea of Emptiness,” I pointed out. “It encompasses Mani completely. There can’t be any round sphere, because the whole continent floats.”

  “Mmm, that’s only if Grivnel’s thesis on tectonic levitation is correct,” said my teacher. “There is no currently known way to pierce the fog of the great abyss or survey the cliffs of Mani farther than a few hundred feet downward. They could be straight cliff faces reaching down to a certain depth, or they could be the edges of a great floating continent, as Master Grivnel proposed. Who is to say but those who have plunged to their deaths trying?”

  Silence hung for a few seconds following her last remark.

  “Um, but we’re not planning on falling to our deaths, are we?” Mydia asked with nervous humor.

  “Not particularly, my dear. I mean, if it ends up being a viable way of achieving our goal, then by all means.”

  Mydia gulped. I knew that she wasn’t greatly fond of heights. How was she going to cope with the traversal of the great chasm, however we decided to do that?

  Looking around at our confused group, Rhidea sighed. “How about I demonstrate?” She cast about and found a decoration on a nearby windowsill, which she retrieved. It was a bronze globe with engravings around its length, standing on a thin pedestal. “My lord, I assure you this will come to no harm.”

  Rhidea moved a hand over the bronze sculpture, which was around the size of one of her hands, and its surface began to change.

  Mydia nodded and said quietly, “Perception Coaction.”

  When Rhidea was finished, she presented the globe to us, and its surface appeared to be silver, split by a furrow that ran its entire length. Thus, it now consisted of two bowl-shaped halves, juxtaposed and held near each other as though by some strange manner of polestone. On the top half, curved though it was, I could make out Ti’Vaeth and Lake Lucia, the Four Rivers, and other landmarks. . . .

  “Is that really what you think it looks like?” Kaen asked skeptically.

  “It’s what I’m certain it looks like,” she returned. “It’s the only way we could have the time zones that we do. Why should the sun rise six days earlier here in Randhorn than in Ti’Vaeth? Sol would have to be circling a sphere.” She demonstrated this by creating a brilliant white light that orbited her mock planet, casting light over its surface. As the light moved toward and then over the other side of Argent’s depiction, the angle of the continent caused the light to appear far earlier in some places than others.

  “Twenty-eight days it takes Sol to make her rounds,” she said. “This is the only way it makes sense.”

  I nodded slowly. “When you put it like that . . . it actually does.”

  Kymhar watched in silent fascination, saying nothing.

  “Back to the topic at hand, Rhidea,” said King Fenwel. “Will you enlist the aid of my scholars here at the castle? How long will you be able to tarry before leaving?”

  “Technically, my king, you are still in charge of the mission.”

  The king barked a laugh. “And technically you are a dusty old scholar from a city recently overthrown by, well, you. Small details.”

  The king’s light-hearted humor brought a smile to my lips. King Fenwel had a certain genuine air that one would not expect from a king, and it was very refreshing.

  Rhidea cleared her throat with the utmost dignity and grace. “Yes, we will need your staff’s help. We will be staying as long as the preparations take, hopefully no longer than a week.” She went to return her round sculpture, which reverted to its original state.

  The discussion concluded soon after that, and before long Rhidea and Mydia were hunting down the king’s scholars and philosophers to enlist their aid and assign them some tasks. I actually didn’t know all of her plans, because she hadn’t shared them in great detail yet. But if there was one thing I knew about that wonderful, terrible woman, it was that she was never without a plan.