The Rift War Read Free

sparks danced across his fingertips, and
answering sparks opened a panel in the stone pillar of the arched opening in the raw stone wall
that surrounded the Rakkell estate. A thumb ring of woven threads of star-metal, glowing softly
blue and silver, flew through the air to land on his palm. He inhaled deeply, feeling another
missing piece of himself had come home, as he slipped the ring onto his thumb. His inborn imbrose flared to life.
    "By the grace and mercy of the Estall," he whispered, renewing his vows as he turned to
continue down the path. "By the imbrose in my blood. I do swear my life, my strength,
my honor to the Warhawk, and to his daughter, my queen."
    Grego's euphoria vanished with the force of a house collapsing. He usually didn't mind
the physical reaction when Mrillis' mind-shield spell went dormant, every time he crossed onto
the property. The wonder and awe of sharing such a world-shattering secret made up for the
price he had to pay. After all, he had requested the mind-shield when he earned his position at
the Science Directorate.
    Illis Rakkell and Emmi were in actuality Mrillis the enchanter and Emrillian Warhawk,
daughter of Athrar. Sixteen years ago, the spell that protected Emrillian and let her sleep through
the ages had been attacked and destroyed by Edrout, son of Megassa and the Nameless One.
Mrillis had brought Emrillian to Moerta, to raise her in the modern world and prepare her for the
day she would return to Lygroes, to lead the Valors of Quenlaque in defending their land against
Edrout and his Encindi barbarians, and prepare for the return of Athrar.
    Grego had met them only a few days after coming to live with his grandparents, just an
old man and a little girl, five years old, having a picnic in the forest. He might have continued
exploring the forest, lost in the haze of pain from the death of his parents, but Mrillis had been
drawing pictures with light, making Emrillian laugh and the Threads dance. Grego had seen the
light and the Threads and felt the humming of power in the air that enclosed the clearing, and he
stayed, fascinated, pulled out of his misery.
    By seeing the lights that day, he had proven he had imbrose, and that had been
enough for Mrillis to listen to his heart, to his sense of destiny, and take the lonely, hurting boy
under his wing. Grego had been included in Emrillian's lessons about the history of Quenlaque,
the Rey'kil, magic, and warfare. He had investigated the Archaics, devoted to scholarship,
delving through the many false legends Mrillis and Meghianna, Queen of Snows had sown
through the centuries, to protect the truth. It had been the natural thing to join the Archaics and
search for others who had imbrose , and when he was sure they were trustworthy, to
introduce Mrillis and Emrillian to them. The plan was to recruit from those trusted friends among
the Archaics who had proven themselves honorable, skilled, and devoted to Quenlaque, and take
them down the tunnel beneath the sea someday, to help in the defense of Lygroes.
    "It's happening too soon," Grego muttered, as the upper towers of the Rakkell estate
became visible through the thick forest. He had no idea how he would slow the progress on the
star-metal reclamation project, now that the sensors he had developed were operational.
    Dangerously operational. He hadn't expected them to work so well, or so soon.
    The irony was that Emrillian and Mrillis had encouraged him to stay involved in the
project. They felt it would be better for him to be at the center of this threat to the integrity of the
dome of Threads that protected Lygroes and kept it safe in far distant history. If he had resigned
his position, he could have come under suspicion of treachery by the Science Directorate and
Kayn's paranoid compatriots, and he wouldn't be in a position now to warn Emrillian and Mrillis
when their worst fears came true.
    Which he was about to do.
    He was so busy with his thoughts, trying to frame the right words to