The Rift War by Michelle L. Levigne

re-calculated from the information his
brother gave him about the signal flame, and nodded. "I intend to persuade all the interfering
hens of Court to stay here and prepare for the coronation while we ride out with a small force to
meet our queen."
    "Make them think it was their idea. Haven't you learned anything, after all this time of
dealing with those ninnies?" Eleanora shook her head, the jewels braided into her dark hair
shimmering. The green eyes she inherited from their mother sparkled in amusement.
    * * * *
    "I've been wracking my brains, trying to remember everything I could about the
legends," Grego said.
    He, Emrillian, Mrillis and Graddon sat around a fire that had been built with magically
preserved supplies left in the waystop. He wished they had not had to leave the Vale of Lanteer
so soon. It broke his heart to see Emrillian and Ynfara hug good-bye, and then to see Emrillian
walk backwards, keeping eye contact with her mother as long as possible.
    Ynfara sat down on the edge of the bier and took hold of Athrar's hand as the
shimmering veils of magic slipped down like a curtain, and then solid rock coalesced into place,
reforming the tunnel wall. He didn't know who he ached for more, Emrillian for losing her
mother so soon after being reunited with her, or Ynfara, left to sit in silence and act as a gateway
to funnel all Mrillis' and Emrillian's and his knowledge of the modern world to Athrar's sleeping
mind.
    "I know what you've told me about the dome and the dilation of time. How does the
Death Zone figure into all this?" He glanced at Emrillian on his left, and Mrillis beyond her. It
was hard to look at Graddon. The seer was an even more shadowy legend than Mrillis and Athrar
and Ynfara. He didn't know if it helped that the big, bald man said nothing, or his silence just
made the whole situation more surreal. "The few scientific probes we could get anywhere near
the boundaries of the Death Zone all say nothing can live there. Poisonous gases, sand, and little
else. How can Lygroes reappear where the Death Zone already is? It's a law of physics: two
things can't be in one place at the same time." Grego almost laughed as he spoke.
    "That is the nature of the enchantment," Mrillis said. "The place where Lygroes shall
re-emerge cannot have grass and mountains and any life-forms at all in it. What the technology
records as poison and radiation and sand is the strained, gaping hole in space and time that waits
for Lygroes to come and fill the gap. I would theorize the radiation is the energy being expended
as Lygroes moves forward in time right now, and has been moving forward even as it has been
held back. It exists where it has always existed, but separate, with protective barriers to keep
invaders from crossing through."
    "The largest proof of the truth behind the legends is the Death Zone, if you
really think about it," Emrillian put in.
    "So the continent isn't really changed, just suspended in time. Surrounded by a
force-field," Grego said. "Easy to say. Hard to imagine or explain."
    * * * *
    The only sound was the soft whisper of the wind, the jingle and creak of saddles, the
thud of hooves in the grass of the plain. The tunnel mouth lay at the end of the day's ride. All
around was the soft green of spring growth. The air smelled sweet, the sunshine pale gold and
warm.
    Baedrix sat loose in the saddle, letting his mount move as it wished. He had no duty but
to enjoy the lovely day and count the hours until he was no longer Regent. He knew he wouldn't
actually be free of his duties and responsibilities for moons. No matter how smooth the transition
from his leadership to the reign of Athrar's heir, it would take time to acquaint the new ruler with
her country and assets. By his oath as a Valor, Baedrix could not simply abandon Quenlaque
Castle when the heir set foot over the threshold.
    Naylia would likely have urged him to do just that, he decided, a small, tight smile
twisting his lips. He remembered her