The Rifts of Psyche Kyle West (inspirational books for women TXT) 📖

she were insane, but her eyes held steely determination. “Psionics, to me!”

At once, four violet-robed mages approached her.

“That depression over there,” she said. “Blast it.”

“At once, your Majesty,” the eldest of the four said. He nodded to the other three, and as one, faced the depression between the dunes on the opposite side from which they came.

“On my mark,” the lead Psionic said, raising his palms outward. “Combine streams with me.”

After a moment, their hands became wrapped in violet light. The sands shook, causing several to lose their footing, including Fergus. A massive hole formed between the dunes, into which the surrounding sand immediately tumbled. It was useless. Whatever sand was excavated would only be buried a moment later. The Psionics increased the power of their combined stream, causing the base of the surrounding dunes to crumble . . . including the one they were standing on.

Some glanced her way nervously, but the Sorceress-Queen showed no signs of giving up. Her violet eyes shone with dangerous slight.

“Everyone at once! I don’t care what your primary is, I don’t care how long it takes, I don’t care if it frays you. Stream!”

Tentatively, the other mages joined in. The original four Psionics’ arms were tremoring with the effort, awash in violet light. But as more power was added, more magic, the hole at last was widening faster than it could be buried. Lucian wondered whether he should join in, but none of his friends were streaming, nor had the Queen asked him to, so he just watched. He couldn’t help but watch the cliff racing up the side of the dune they were standing on. If the mages kept this up, they would be the ones falling in that hole.

Lucian was about to shout for the Queen to stop this madness when she held up her own hand. “Stop. Stop at once!”

Instantly, every mage cut off their streams, panting as if they’d just sprinted a marathon on a high-G world. The cliff advanced up the dune, only slowing once it was halfway up. The dune rumbled once, then twice, before growing still. Lucian readied the Orb of Binding, just in case he needed to pull he and his friends to safety. He looked at Serah, who watched him worriedly.

But the dune stood steady. There was a moment of disbelief, and then nervous chuckles, as the surrounding mages realized they were safe. The heat shield, which had fallen during the collective streaming, was reraised, and the heat of the Burning Sands was defrayed.

“Rot it all,” the Queen said, fuming. “Where is that Orb? I will have it!”

Lucian looked at her. “You will have it?”

“It’s here, Lucian. Do you truly not want to find it?”

“And how am I supposed to do that? The Orb of Binding revealed itself to me. Maybe the Orb of Psionics doesn’t feel the same way.”

Or maybe it wasn’t here at all. But Lucian kept that thought to himself. If she ever believed that, then she might actually kill him.

“Confound it all,” she said.

One of the men beside her collapsed, eyes closed.

“What’s wrong with him?” she demanded of Lord Kiani.

“He likely overdrew. And combined with the heat . . .”

She shook her head as her angry violet eyes turned on Lucian. “You. Are you trying to make me look like a fool? You know where it is. Show me!”

“I know as little as you,” Lucian said. “What do you expect me to do?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Find it? Is that really so difficult? Just . . . do something! You’re the Chosen.”

“Hey, lady,” Serah said. “He said he didn’t know where it is. Why don’t you just relax?”

The Queen screamed as she swept her hand, and Serah shot backward into the air in the direction of the Zephyr. Lucian’s heart lurched as he reached for the Orb of Binding. To his relief, he found it readily enough and tethered her. That slowed her speed greatly, and only once she came to a stop, he reset the focal point on himself and drew her toward him.

Once close, he slowed her and pulled her to the ground next to him. Her eyes were wide and her form shaking. The Queen wore an amused smirk on her face. It was all some twisted game for her.

“I will suffer no more insolence. That goes for all of you!”

Serah’s face blanched as the Queen once again regarded the depression. By now, it had been completely reburied with sand.

“We’ll repeat what we just did,” she said. “Only for the depression toward the south, here.”

Lord Kiani gave a gracious smile. “Your Grace. If we do that, half our Mage-Knights will be out of commission.”

Lucian couldn’t help but note his wording. It was as if the mages were machines rather than people, but none dared raise a voice in their own defense.

Her eyes were violet fire, but in the end, she gave a slow nod. “Very well. What would you suggest, Lord Kiani?”

“A two-hour reprieve, at least, to allow ether to regenerate. And to leave the Thermalists out of the next streaming since they need to maintain the ward.”

“As sensible as ever,” she said. She looked around at the mages, who did not betray a single emotion. Lucian realized these were men and women well-schooled in hiding their true feelings from their sovereign.

“An hour’s rest,” she said. “No more.”

“Or we could wait until night,” Cleon said. “That way, we would not need to use the heat shield.”

“Fool,” she said. “There is no time to lose, and we must continue our work while the weather is fair. And the moonquakes grow worse at night, so that shows how little you know. Do you know how many times I’ve come out here only to be turned away by the weather or tectonic shifts?”

“Wait,” Lucian said.

The Queen looked at him. “Yes?”

“I noticed this dune looked a bit strange on our way up. It’s steeper and taller than the others. That’s why we climbed it.”

“Your point?”

“There must be something beneath it