Megacosmic Rift: A Dark Sci-Fi Epic Fantasy (Torth Book 4), page 1
MEGACOSMIC RIFT
TORTH BOOK FOUR
ABBY GOLDSMITH
This book is dedicated to my mom, Judy, who is a listening ear and a supporter of my crazy dreams.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without prior written permission from Podium Publishing.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living, dead, or undead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2024 by Abby Goldsmith
Cover design by Jeff Brown
ISBN: 978-1-0394-4291-7
Published in 2024 by Podium Publishing
www.podiumaudio.com
CONTENTS
PART ONE
Chapter 1 CAVE DWELLERS
Chapter 2 A FRIGHTENED SNAKE
Chapter 3 INCOGNITO
Chapter 4 TO REKINDLE A STAR
Chapter 5 GRASPED
Chapter 6 DROPOUT
Chapter 7 DECISIVE
Chapter 8 AT THE HELM
Chapter 9 FLURRIES
Chapter 10 THE FULLNESS OF TIME
Chapter 11 AGAINST A GODDESS
Chapter 12 A THOUSAND TIMES A THOUSAND
Chapter 13 OVER A BOOK
Chapter 14 PIVOTAL MOMENTS
Chapter 15 HELPLESSLY POWERFUL
Chapter 16 MORE VALUABLE THAN ANYTHING
Chapter 17 CONTRITE TRANSFORMATION
Chapter 18 BEWARE THE FIFTH
Chapter 19 UPLIFT EPIDEMIC
Chapter 20 FORMULA FREAKS
Chapter 21 BACKSTABBED
Chapter 22 DISEMPOWERED AND DISEMBODIED
PART TWO
Chapter 1 SWIFT CHANGE OF PLANS
Chapter 2 TOUCHING PARADISE
Chapter 3 MENDING MORTALS
Chapter 4 DOUBLE RAINBOW
Chapter 5 POWERS THAT BE
Chapter 6 TO MASTER THE COSMOS
Chapter 7 INHERENTLY WRONG
Chapter 8 BETWEEN WILL AND WISDOM
Chapter 9 OUTSIDE ROUTINE
Chapter 10 BRUTAL PROTEST
Chapter 11 DESPERATE MEASURES
Chapter 12 A LEG TO STAND ON
Chapter 13 TITANIC RESOLVE
Chapter 14 IN FAVOR OF REDEMPTION
Chapter 15 MILLIONS AND MORE
PART THREE
Chapter 1 TO BRING DOWN GODS
Chapter 2 NAVIGATING NEBULAE
Chapter 3 WARRIOR MENTALITY
Chapter 4 GIGANTIC
Chapter 5 MEGACOSMIC QUAKE
Chapter 6 HUBRIS
Chapter 7 JOIN OR DIE
Chapter 8 OLD FRIENDS AND NEW
Chapter 9 NOT QUITE HEROES
Chapter 10 RARITY OF RENEGADES
Chapter 11 QUESTION MARK
Chapter 12 ON THE TRIGGER
Chapter 13 GALACTIC MINDS
Chapter 14 SHOULD HAVE
Chapter 15 REWIRED
Chapter 16 MONSTROUS WITHIN AND WITHOUT
Chapter 17 TO KNOW ANOTHER
PART FOUR
Chapter 1 POSTMORTEM
Chapter 2 DEADLY CHILDREN
Chapter 3 RECOMPENSE
Chapter 4 CONDITIONAL SALVATION
Chapter 5 IN EXCHANGE
Chapter 6 AT A LOSS
Chapter 7 THE BRAIN
Chapter 8 REBORN
Chapter 9 WINNING
Chapter 10 SECRETS IN THE SURF
Chapter 11 VOLITION
Chapter 12 A SLICE OF EMPIRE
Chapter 13 ROSY DEFIANCE
Chapter 14 FREEDOMLAND
Chapter 15 WHEN STONES WEEP
EPILOGUE
AFTERWORD
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
PART ONE
“The mind readers stole our land, our liberty, our happiness, our dignity, our deepest secrets, and our dearest loves. I will gain it all back, piece by bloody piece.”
—A long-forgotten Yeresunsa who rebelled against the early Torth Empire
Chapter 1
CAVE DWELLERS
Evenjos walked the decks of the starship in the guise of a refugee woman, bundled in rags so that no one would get a good look at her. She had not achieved authenticity as one of the albino people. They were aliens to her, chinless and long-necked.
She kept her misshapen attempt at one of their faces buried in scarves and woolens.
She listened. She searched in vain for familiar customs or familiar languages. Where might she find Yeresunsa who were loyal to her? Where were the royals? The nobles?
Families huddled around lanterns or rubbish heaps lit on fire. They peered forlornly into empty urns that held no water.
Everyone aboard this overcrowded starship was a filthy commoner. Worse—they were foreign. They did not pray to the goddess-empress, as they should. Instead, they whispered prayers to a giant.
Evenjos thought she knew their big savior. Ariock. He had rescued her, as well.
This starship was crude, just an empty shell. It was devoid of furnishings or basic plumbing. It was horrifically overcrowded. If Ariock had made this place, as his worshippers believed, well, he hadn’t done a very good job. Unimpressive.
As for the refugees … Although they traveled in a vessel capable of delivering them to a new world, their minds held no recognition of that fact. They were nothing but ignorant cave dwellers.
Disgusted, Evenjos dropped her corporeal focus. She disintegrated into a cloud of dust, letting the empty rags drop. The nearest aliens gasped in shock. She didn’t care.
She flitted overhead, from room to room, seeking anything familiar. She was nearly desperate enough to revisit that sickly monster-child who called himself Thomas to beg him for advice, but that idea made her shudder, even in her incorporeal state. Thomas was dangerous. He reminded her of Unyat.
Or maybe Unyat’s clone. Or his clone’s clone?
To Evenjos, the past was a disjointed haze. She feared that her memory might be permanently damaged, atrophied after years of …
(don’t think of it)
She pushed away the darkness.
Really, she ought to kill Thomas. He was a telepath. He knew that she was scared and alone, and he had the same calculating mind as Unyat, with that creepy, all-consuming curiosity. What was to stop him from tricking all these cave dwellers into serving as his minions?
Thomas could outwit anyone. Even Evenjos herself. That made him an obvious threat. He should be eliminated.
Yet …
Evenjos had a disturbing sense that she owed the monster-child an enormous debt of gratitude. He had saved her from that …
(no, don’t think)
That hellish pit of despair.
Memories kept seeping into her subconsciousness, like sludge filling an ancient well. Hadn’t Thomas been trapped inside that terrible prison with her? Hadn’t he tried to comfort her in there?
He had.
And he had saved her, after so many others had tried and failed.
So Evenjos would allow the scary boy to live. For now. But if he showed the least sign of becoming like Unyat and masterminding a plot against her … well, her generosity and tolerance had limits.
An eerie keening caught her attention. It was followed by another ululating wail, and another.
Albino maidens marched in a procession, eight abreast. They dipped in a choreographed dance, trailing gauzy sleeves while they sang in discordant lamentation.
The bereaved maidens preceded an enormous bier, carried by a formidable troop of nussians. Upon that platform lay Ariock.
Evenjos could not detect life sparks in her disincorporated state. But judging by the grubby-looking albinos who sat cross-legged around Ariock, gazing at him with intense focus—and judging by the concern everyone exhibited for him—she suspected he was gravely ill.
Instead of wearing badges to denote their incarnations and magnitudes, these alien Yeresunsa wore identical purple mantles draped over their shoulders and backs. That made their role hard to guess. Were they healers? If so, why were they failing to complete the job? Or were they telekinetics, struggling to keep Ariock’s heart beating and his lungs breathing?
Odd.
The procession included more people. There was the grouchy old man who had been present when Evenjos was rescued. There was the maiden with the peg leg and the auburn hair—the one who had spread herself over Ariock’s comatose chest with that possessive look.
As the maiden limped alongside his bier, the fury on her face was plain. Evenjos had trouble reading minds in her disincorporated state, but she could see that the girl’s rage was directed inward. She resented this funerary procession.
Did she think it was an unnecessary farce?
Evenjos wondered if the girl was right. After all, Ariock must be alive, or he would not be surrounded by healers or whatever type of Yeresunsa these foreigners were.
What was the cause of his illness? A brain injury? Those were nearly impossible to heal. Was he bleeding internally?
His illness looked like power depletion, but that was unthinkable. A well-bred stormbringer of his magnitude would never be so stupid as to deplete his powers.
Evenjos gathered
She coalesced amid grief-stricken bystanders. Some of the albinos were tapping the bier with their most venerated family heirlooms: urns, platters, hairbrushes, staffs, and candelabras. That seemed to be their way of honoring the dead.
The procession halted and the keening stopped.
Hundreds of people stared at Evenjos in awe. It was plain that none of them had ever seen a goddess. Or an empress.
Evenjos had been beautiful even in her youth, and with centuries of practice, beauty had become second nature to her. Stylized waves of lavender hair cascaded over her bare shoulders. Wings arced from her back, electric magenta lightened by an opalescent sheen. A shimmering white gown and diadem completed the look.
This was the form she felt most accustomed to, and most comfortable in.
“Oh great one!” The gnarled old man bowed. Unlike everyone else, he alone seemed to recognize her as a sovereign.
Disappointingly, he was not a Yeresunsa. His life spark was common.
Despite his rich cape and trimmed white beard, he wore ornate armor. He had to lean on a staff for support. Not a royal, then. A royal would have been able to afford a healer for his crooked leg. The scars on his creased face bespoke a hard life, confirming that he was merely a commoner.
Evenjos frowned as the old man limped into her range. He was a telepath.
Ugh.
Telepaths were the worst sort of commoner. They worshipped science and Unyat. She prepared to slay him. A bolt of lightning should suffice.
“I am your most humble servant.” The old man stooped in an obsequious bow. “If you’ll have me.” He mentally introduced himself as Garrett Dovanack, and he seemed to have a ludicrously high opinion of himself. “Thank you for gracing us with your royal presence.”
Evenjos studied Garrett Dovanack with narrow-eyed suspicion. His mind held a lot of knowledge, but not a godlike amount. He contained the wisdom of one lifetime rather than millions. That was acceptable.
And she felt a strange sense of familiarity with Garrett, as if they had shared a prison cell together. She knew him from …
(not worth thinking about)
Somewhere. A time and a place that she did not wish to ponder.
“Rise.” Evenjos touched Garrett on the shoulder, signaling that she accepted his servitude. Garrett showed proper respect toward her. That was refreshing. Perhaps he was one of the holdouts who secretly worked against the machinations of Unyat?
Besides … although she mistrusted telepaths, she had to admit that telepathy would facilitate communication.
The only reason Evenjos was able to speak the alien tongue of these people was because she was a low-level telepath herself. She kept having to mentally decipher their words. If she wanted to make herself understood, she had to mentally translate, which was a chore. She didn’t like it.
“Many thanks, mighty one.” Garrett straightened awkwardly. “I hate to beg a favor of you, but I’m afraid we have no choice.”
Evenjos rolled her eyes. Of course her new manservant wanted a favor. She couldn’t guess much about these people, but she could guess why they’d rescued her. Power. It was always that. Everyone wanted the goddess-empress to grant their wishes.
She sighed.
Garrett chose simple words and spoke slowly, aware that Evenjos needed to translate everything. “This large man over here is on the brink of death. He rescued you, and he also rescued all of us, aboard this ship. We cannot afford to lose him. I beg you.” He faced Evenjos with a pleading gaze. “Will you heal him?”
Evenjos strutted past Garrett, pretending that she needed time to decide. She wanted a few moments to study Ariock.
Even unconscious, he was a marvel to behold. His sheer size drew attention. He must have no peers.
He was handsome, in a rugged, oversize sort of way.
He would make an interesting lover.
Evenjos held her hands over his chest, ignoring the possessive, poisonous look from the maiden with the peg leg. What a silly girl. How could someone without powers—a cripple, no less—believe, even for a second, that she was worthy of a majestic stormbringer?
Whatever ailment Ariock had would probably be mendable. These cave dwellers were unimpressive. Evenjos sensed the low strength of their life sparks and figured they just needed a mightier healer …
She jerked back.
Ariock had no injuries. His life spark ebbed on the verge of death, curled up tight, beyond any hope of a natural recovery.
He was critically depleted.
“He needs more power than I have right now.” Evenjos stepped back, puzzled by the ignorance around her. Did these primitive people not grasp the dangers of power depletion?
And what sort of fool was Ariock? He had not seemed suicidal. Could he really have depleted himself by accident?
“Where is your Yeresunsa Order?” Evenjos demanded. She wanted to calm down, but a darkness inside her rose up, grabbing for answers. Why was everything so alien? What if this was all a delusion? What if she was still screaming in …
(stop don’t think of that)
In darkness and silence?
“What happened to my world?” she asked, unable to suppress the plaintive note in her voice. “Where are my people?”
“You tore your world apart,” the peg-leg maiden said. “Remember?”
Evenjos had destroyed a cesspool of a planet, yes. But not her own beautiful world? No. Surely not. She had torn apart a polluted obscenity crawling with mutant telepaths. The universe did not need a blight such as that.
Why was Garrett studying her with pained pity? It made her feel ashamed. A goddess-empress should never be made to feel this way.
So a few innocent aliens had died in her vengeful destruction. So what? Evenjos always acted with the greater good in mind. She had saved the universe from millions of nasty telepathic abominations. Didn’t these commoners trust her judgment?
Didn’t they know who she was?
“I want to speak to your powerful Yeresunsa,” Evenjos demanded. “Who is in charge among you?”
Garrett coughed in a self-effacing way. “That would be me.”
An albino woman spoke at the same time. “I am in charge of all the surviving Yeresunsa. My name is Jinishta.”
