Rogue Legacy: The Secret History of Issalia

by Jeffrey L. Kohanek

  “What?” Cal blinked, appearing surprised to find her there. “Um…no. However, the sword is not for me. This is for…I don’t know who it’s for. I guess we’ll see.”

  Lyra chuckled. “Why am I not surprised?” She gestured toward the large object beside them, standing just a half-head taller than Cal. “Are you going to show me what’s under the blanket? Or is that another one of your secrets?”

  Cal grinned. “Oh, it’s a secret alright. But not from you.” He nodded. “Go ahead and remove the blanket. Let’s have a look at it.”

  Stirred by curiosity, Lyra found a loose corner of cloth and began to unwind it. A gold-gilded chair arm appeared, the ornate swirls carved within it sparkling brightly. A red seat back and cushion emerged as she continued to unwind the cloth, each with an odd symbol sewn upon it. She circled around the back and found herself in awe as the blanket fell to reveal the throne beneath.

  The wooden panel on back of the throne included a mural, carved to depict three runes gracing the sky above a rising sun. She noticed that the rune in the center matched the symbols sewn upon the seatback and cushion.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Indeed.” Cal nodded. “It will also be quiet powerful when I’m finished with it. In the future, its secrets might be just enough to prevent ruin. I can’t be sure. That relates to another vision and visions are only possible futures. I don’t always know which will come to fruition. But I do know that this sword and that throne will play critical roles if we hope to avoid a dark fate.”

  Lyra stared at Cal, unsure of how to respond. Just when her sense of him became clear, and she thought she understood him, he would do or say something that bewildered her. She had never met anyone like him. Kind. Smart. Compassionate. Yet, odd. So very odd.

  She took a deep breath, preparing herself. “Cal.”

  He blinked, his mind returning from some distant place that only he could see.

  “Yes?”

  “I’ve been here for three months. I believe I’ve held up my end of our bargain.”

  He nodded. “You’re right. You’ve done your part, and now I’ll do mine.” He slid the sword into the scabbard. “Why don’t you go and pack up your things? We can eat a quick dinner and I’ll walk you to…where will you go?”

  She shrugged. Returning to the Tantarri now seemed unnatural, but she had no other ideas. “Before I came here, I was with…a family. They’re camped at the eastern edge of fields.”

  Cal nodded. “That’s only a few miles away. I’ll see you safely there, and then we can part ways.”

  He turned, opened the door, and disappeared into the house. As the door closed, the reality of her leaving suddenly became apparent. After months of looking forward to being free from her promise, Lyra now found herself unsure of what she wanted.

  16

  Before leaving the manor, Lyra had donned the tunic and breeches she wore when they first met. She found her manner subdued, her mood somber. Cal made numerous attempts at conversation during the hour-long journey, but Lyra’s responses had been half-hearted and those conversations had died quickly.

  They crested a rise with the setting sun to their backs, its orange light giving an amber tint to the long dry grass that pervaded the fields. Lyra spotted the Tantarri camp at the edge of the wood and realized one of the wagons was on fire, spouting black smoke as people dumped buckets of water upon it.

  Alarmed, she broke into a run. Down the slope, through the thigh-high grass she sprinted toward the burning wagon. Women in their bright colored dresses had formed a line, passing buckets of water from the creek that ran at the edge of the wood. As she neared the camp, she found Flori kneeling beside a prone form. Running past the bucket line, Lyra slowed as she reached the other girl.

  Flori looked up with tears streaking down her face, her hands holding Eddrick’s limp hand. The man had a nasty gash in his neck and dark wetness stained the shoulder of his red tunic.

  “He’s dead. They killed him and took the others,” Flori sobbed. “My father’s dead, and Gar is gone. My life is in ruins.”

  Lyra put her hand on Flori’s shoulder. “Who did this, Flori? Where’s Gar?”

  “Soldiers. Soldiers with a circular emblem on their shields. They killed him.” A slobbering burst of sobs emerged, leaving her gasping and heaving.

  “Flori. I need you to tell me where Gar is. Where are the other men?”

  “He’s gone. They’re all gone.” Numi said from her seat on a nearby log. “The soldiers shackled them and took them away. They set a wagon on fire as a warning to prevent us from following.” The woman shook her head, her face sorrowful. “I never thought I’d witness the day…our leader murdered…our men stolen away. The clan is broken.”

  Cal stepped closer, wearing a grim expression. “The emblem you mentioned. Does it look like this?”

  He pulled his black cloak from his pack and showed them the symbol sewn on the collar.

  Numi nodded. “Yeah. That’s the one.”

  His lips press together in a thin line. “It’s the Ministry. They took them. I’m afraid I know why, too.”

  Lyra turned back toward Numi. “Which way did they go?”

  The old woman pointed southeast, toward a road that lay a half-mile from their camp.

  Recalling the pain of watching her own father die, Lyra gave Flori’s shoulder a soft squeeze but had no words to offer as the girl sobbed over the man in her arms.

  Turning about, Lyra walked toward the road, in the direction Numi had pointed. Cal caught up to her.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I need to do something. I have to try.” Lyra didn’t know what to do, but she remained resolute in her decision. “Those men have nobody else. The Tantarri herd cattle for a living and dance for fun. They’re not soldiers. Without help, those men are doomed. Without the men to help these women, life will be hard, perhaps worse than that.” She shook her head. “These people need each other.”

  “Well, you’re not doing it alone,” Cal replied. “I’m coming with you. This is my fault. Perhaps not by intention, but surely by deed.”

  Lyra wondered what he meant. The man was frustratingly cryptic at times, but she didn’t care. She was happy to have him and his magic to help because they would likely need a miracle.

  “How many do you think?” Lyra whispered.

  “I think twenty, perhaps twenty-five soldiers.”

  Lyra nodded, unsure if Cal could see her response from the shadows.

  In the flickering light of the campfire, she spotted four tents beyond the captive men who were sleeping on the ground. There were perhaps twenty-five Tantarri men in total, but they lacked weapons meant for combat. Even if they outnumbered the soldiers, the element of surprise combined with their inability to fight back made them easy to capture. Killing one of them and threatening their women had likely dissolved any attempt at resistance.

  Lyra counted a dozen soldiers moving about the camp, watching the captives while the other soldiers slept.

  “Will the lute work like it worked with Elias?” she asked.

  “I don’t see why not. If you can coax them to sleep, we could just walk the captives out of camp and nobody will get killed.”

  Pressing her lips together as she collected her resolve, she slid the lute off her back and emerged from the woods. As she approached, a soldier with a bow became alarmed.

  “Who’s out there?”

  “I’m just a traveling minstrel,” Lyra called out as she continued toward the man. “I’m heading south to the capital and am seeking a safe place to sleep.”

  As the flickering firelight reached her, the man lowered his bow.

  “You’re just a girl.”

  Lyra’s shackles rose. “Well, I might be a girl, but I can play.”

  A soldier with a sword at his hip stepped beside the man with the bow.

  “Off with you. Just move along.”

  Lyra noticed some of the captives behind soldiers sittin
g upright as other armed men circled to her side of the fire.

  “You’ll leave a girl out here all alone, with bears and monsters out roaming the night?”

  The second man chuckled. Others behind him echoed the laugh. “Monsters…”

  “I’ll play a quick song, and you’ll see.” Lyra strummed her lute.

  The man said something, but Lyra ignored him and began to play. Beginning with a lively riff to catch their attention, she then slowed the tempo.

  “The road behind is sad at your passing

  The road ahead awaits your coming

  The day is long, leaves you weary and lacking

  Your body craves rest, hear it humming

  Sleeeeeep, sleeeeep, lie down and sleeeeep

  Give in to weariness and go to sleeeeeep.”

  As she continued to play, the men began to lie down, some yawning, others curling up on their sides. A minute later, the music stopped, and only the sound of the crackling fire remained. Every man within the camp appeared to be asleep, many snoring.

  A rustle emerged from behind her. She turned to find Cal walking into the firelight.

  “Good job,” he whispered. “I do love to hear you play.”

  “Thanks,” Lyra shouldered her lute. “Now let’s get the Tantarri men out of here before anyone wakes.”

  They weaved their way past the sleeping soldiers and to the captives sleeping near the fire. Lyra discovered the men’s wrists shackled, a chain running between the shackles, binding them together into a line. She pulled her knife from the sheath, along with one of her needles and began to pick the locks of Gar’s shackles. As one clicked open, he stirred. Lyra put her hand over his mouth and his eyes shot open, his expression softening when he saw her.

  She put a finger to her lips and he nodded before she removed her hand. After freeing his other wrist, she carefully set his shackles aside. Drawing the other needle from her sheath, she handed it to Gar, who nodded and moved to the next man in the chain.

  Some of the men woke as their shackles were unlocked, while others slept more soundly. With half of them freed, Lyra moved on to one who was sleeping with his wrists beneath him. When she tried to move his arm, he jerked and shouted in surprise.

  “Shhh,” she hushed him.

  She looked around to see if anyone had heard the commotion. A soldier sat upright, his face showing alarm when he saw her.

  “Enemies in the camp! To arms!” The man grabbed his spear and scrambled to his feet.

  The camp instantly came alive and men woke, including those inside the tents. Some of the freed Tantarri bolted, with one dropping face-first with an arrow in his back.

  The soldier who had alerted the camp advanced toward Lyra, holding his spear ready. Lyra stumbled backward with her knife before her, stopping when she felt the heat of the fire against her back. Suddenly, Cal was behind the man. He grabbed the soldier by the shoulder and leg and lifted the man above his head, as if he weighed nothing. Cal tossed the soldier and the man slammed into three other soldiers as they emerged from one of the tents.

  Lyra watched in awe as Cal leapt over her, over the fire, and landed beyond the furthest tent. He grabbed a stunned bowman by the arm and swung him around with the soldier’s legs parallel to the ground as he twirled about and smashed into the tent. The man screamed as he collided with the men inside, the sound of bones breaking coming from within.

  Cal leapt over the tent and landed beside the remaining captives, now on their feet and appearing confused. He grabbed the chain that bound them together and snapped it in two as if it were thread. He then looked at Lyra and shouted.

  “Run!”

  Everyone bolted, running into the woods as more shouts and screams echoed in the night. Lyra and the dark shadows of the freed men ran through the woods – ran for their lives.

  Gar squatted beside Lyra and placed his hand on her shoulder as he whispered, “Why are we stopping? We should leave before those men show up.”

  “I can’t leave him, Gar,” she whispered back. “You and the others are free because of Cal. What if he’s in trouble? What if he needs our help?”

  She heard Cal’s voice, “Tali.”

  Rising above the brush, Lyra peered from the dark woods and found a single form stumbling down the road.

  “Over here,” she said in a hushed voice.

  Cal angled toward her and stumbled to his knees before tipping sideways.

  Alarmed, Lyra ran out from her hiding spot. Gar and three others emerged to follow her.

  Cal lay on his back at the edge of the road, holding his side. Despite the dim starlight, Lyra noticed the dark splotch on his tunic when she knelt beside him.

  “You’re hurt,” she said with concern.

  “One of them got lucky. Cut me bad before I could stop him.” He held his hand up and stared at his blood-soaked palm. “The strength from my augmentation will wear off soon. When it does, I’ll go fast.” His hand reached up and touched her face, tracing a smear of blood on her cheek. “I’m glad I found you. I wanted to see you before I die.”

  The other fugitives gathered around them as Gar knelt on the other side of Cal.

  “This is your friend? The one who helped you free us?” Gar’s eyes met hers.

  “Yes.” She nodded, looking back down at Cal. “You’re not going to die. We’ll bring you back to the camp and you’ll be fine.”

  He coughed, which turned into a moan. “No. I’m in a bad way…dying. Goodbye, Tali. We had something special. We almost made it work. Be sure to get my gifts to the king.”

  Lyra frowned. “King? What are you talking about?”

  A man she didn’t know knelt beside her. “Here. Let me heal you.”

  The man gripped the hand Cal held against his wound. Cal’s body spasmed and his back arched. He shook violently and gasped for air, his body visibly relaxing. As his breathing slowed, he sat upright.

  “Thanks. That was a near thing.”

  “What?” Lyra turned to the man beside her. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Elden, Elden Duratti.”

  Cal grunted, “You’re the man from the temple. You healed my feet.”

  Elden nodded. “Yes. I was the last healer left in Sol Polis. When the others volunteered to join the Ministry’s secret mission, I chose to remain behind. I prefer…a more peaceful approach. The soldiers who captured these men were the last group to leave Sol Polis. They stopped by the temple on their way out and the next thing I knew, I was shackled, and they were dragging me out of town.” Elden put his hand on Cal’s shoulder. “Thanks for freeing me…for freeing us. After that, healing you was the least I could do.”

  “Issal was truly looking out for me to have an Ecclesiast among the captives.” Cal gripped Elden’s shoulder, his eyes reflecting gratitude. His stomach made an audible growl, sounding ferocious in the quiet night. “Now, do you by chance have any food? I’m starving.”

  17

  The last vestiges of twilight gave way to dawn as the sun edged over the ocean at the horizon, miles to the east. Lyra squinted at the light as the last wagon lurched into motion. Gar sat on the driver’s seat with the reins in his hands. Elden sat beside him – where Lyra would have sat if things were different.

  Gar looked toward her, meeting her gaze. The disappointment on his face was evident, reminding Lyra of their last conversation.

  “I’m sorry, Gar.” She bit her lip. “I have to stay. Something big, something bad, is coming. Cal needs my help.” Lyra’s gaze shifted toward her hands, held in his. “You must go. The clan needs you.”

  A glance toward the wagons showed them lined-up and ready for travel. Shouts came from the north, along with the barking of a single dog, the only one the soldiers hadn’t killed when taking their captives. The dog and the last of the cattle disappeared around the bend, kicking up a trail of dust on the gravel road.

  “I need you, Tali. Please come with us. Let this Outlander deal with Outlander problems. You belong with me. You be
long with the clan.”

  Lyra stared into his eyes…and found herself sinking into them, barely able to keep her head afloat. Gar cupped her cheek and leaned forward, tilting his head as their lips met. His other hand found the small of her back, and he pulled her against him. The heat of his skin against hers caused something to flare within, her body reacting to the contact. Her heart raced, feeling like it might burst from her chest. When the kiss ended and he pulled back, she looked down, refusing to meet his gaze, fearing that she might be unable to say no.

  “Again, I’m sorry, but I must stay.” Requiring every bit of effort she possessed, she pushed herself away and turned from him. Her head turned to the side as she spoke over her shoulder. “Perhaps we’ll meet again. Fate will decide.”

  “Talk,” he pleaded as she walked away. “Why must you do this? You have fulfilled your promise. Why stay?”

  She stopped and faced him again, feeling safer with some distance between them. “He’s doing something important, Gar. You tell me you need me, but his need is greater because his cause is greater. You have to lead the clan, the Tantarri need you…especially now. You all need each other, but at least you have each other. Cal only has me, nobody else. I must help him see this through.”

  Lyra turned away and walked up the hill, where Cal waited at the peak, watching the rising sun. Upon reaching the top, she turned and found the wagons pulling onto the road with only Gar’s remaining.

  As his wagon rolled from the long grass to the gravel, the pace of the oxen quickened and soon the wagon was beyond her vision, obscured by the trees that enveloped the road. As the rumble of the wheels faded and the trail of dust settled, Cal spoke.

  “Are you alright?”

  Lyra nodded and wiped her eyes dry as she turned west and began walking toward the manor. “Come on. We have much to do and little time.”

  The empty campsite appeared far less ominous in daylight. The area was now cleared of any men – even the two Tantarri who had died while attempting to escape. Lyra glanced toward the tree line, unable to convince herself that nobody watched her from within the shadows.