The Rift War by Michelle L. Levigne

made her want to laugh.
    "The Vale of Lanteer is supposed to be a beautiful valley, full of springs and orchards.
Paradise." He put a world of feeling in the word. "How can it be underground?"
    "Because it is not, as you say, underground." Mrillis settled back against his saddle,
eyelids lowered in his lecturing posture. "Nor, I am sad to say, is it a beautiful valley. Long ago,
it might have been, but it has been so tightly wound with Threads, it has changed. It is more a
moment of halted time than an actual place, now, after all these centuries. My teacher, Graddon,
has slept there since I was a young boy. I am firmly convinced he knew of its future need, to
preserve Athrar's life and the hope for our world, and that is why he left me clues to find it, to
find him. I dearly hope..."
    He shook his head, his eyes darkening with thoughts that made his mouth flatten with
either pain or sorrow. Emrillian couldn't decide which. "Suffice to say, the Vale is the turning
point of our journey. The crux of all we have worked for all these years."
    * * * *
    The Tower of Bo'Lantier
The Kingdom of
Quenlaque
Lygroes
    200 years after the defeat of the Nameless One
    "Maybe you can tell me, Ectrix." Martus, the guardian on duty that moon in the Tower
of Bo'Lantier, turned his back to the white-gold enchanted flame that burned without fuel in the
wall niche. "Why do some no longer believe in the return of Athrar and his heir?"
    Time stopped in the domed room. The lanky man and the sun-browned boy looked at
each other. Despite the warm spring morning, the chill in the gray stone tower grew stronger.
The sunlight streaming through the arched window glanced off well-polished armor on its rack.
The ceremonial bridles and bells the man had been cleaning sparkled. A bird landed on the sill of
the window and chirped a question at the tableau. The silence broke and time flowed on.
    "Sir?" Ectrix blinked, startled, and shifted on the bench where he sat polishing his
shield, a gift from his brother, the Regent.
    He had finished his duties for the day, seeing to Martus' armor, feeding the horses and
chopping wood for that day's cooking. He could have been outside, practicing archery, but he
liked to sit in the tower and talk to the Valor. Unlike other guardians, Martus was enjoyable
company. He told stories and talked to Ectrix like he had already earned his spurs as a Valor.
Other guardians treated him like a child--and he was nearly fifteen.
    Ectrix liked these times. Martus was better than the tutors back at Quenlaque Castle. He
asked questions that made Ectrix think, instead of just repeating his teacher's words back to him.
Like now. He wracked his brains for an answer.
    "I think," he began slowly, "it's because five generations have passed since Mrillis and
the Queen of Snows raised the dome and Athrar went away to his healing sleep, and no sign of
the heir has come. Two hundred years is a long time to wait, sir."
    "Just two hundred?" The man chuckled, a weary sound that bothered the boy. "I thought
at least the Regent's family would remember the enchanter's words." Martus sat down, easing his
lean frame into a hard, tall chair.
    "But I do remember." He nodded earnestly. "Athrar's heir now shelters in Moerta. When
Lord Mrillis cast the enchantment, time slowed for all who remained on Lygroes." He shrugged
and gave an apologetic grin. "I don't understand that part, sir."
    "It means that while we live days, the people of Moerta live years. You think the two
centuries we have waited here is long?" Martus shook his head and closed his eyes, slouching in
the stiff chair. "The last time Mrillis the enchanter was here, I dared to ask him how much time
had passed in Moerta since the separation. He told me nearly two thousand years."
    "I'd like to see that world, sir."
    "So would I." Martus opened his eyes. He looked tired. "Ectrix, I'm only thirty years old.
Being a guardian, spending my life waiting and watching, hoping that no danger comes through
that