Rogue Legacy: The Secret History of Issalia

by Jeffrey L. Kohanek

  As they walked, Lyra found herself measuring the man Tallinor had assigned as their escort. Cal had refused to take more than a single soldier, stating that any show of force would lead to a fight they could not win.

  Despite obvious misgivings, Tallinor assigned his best swordsman to accompany Cal and Lyra. That man was Garrett Pularus.

  Taller than an average man and sporting an athletic physique, Pularus appeared to know how to handle himself in a fight. Dark curly hair and a fierce brow lent a noticeable weight to Garrett’s stoic manner, which Lyra found as a stark contrast to Cal’s flippant nature.

  Lyra’s gaze fell to the sword at Garrett’s hip, swaying in time with his steps. She smiled, recalling the expression on Cal’s face when he had handed the sword to the man, as if he were being relieved of an immense burden.

  Garrett stopped and turned toward Lyra, his brown eyes meeting hers. “Are you sure I can’t carry that for you? It’s not right for a girl…a woman…such as yourself to bear the weight of our supplies.”

  Lyra’s brow shot up. “Are you suggesting that a girl cannot do what a boy can do? Am I some delicate flower?”

  Garrett opened his mouth, preparing a reply.

  “You’re asking for trouble, Captain.” Cal said as he glanced backward, not slowing.

  “I just…” Garrett stammered.

  “Think I’m not capable?” Lyra asked, hoping that Cal wouldn’t reveal the nature of the floating pack.

  Garrett’s lips pressed together. “Fine. You can carry the pack.”

  “You just worry about yourself. If I need anything, I’ll let you know.”

  Lyra adjusted the pack, causing the lute on her back to shift slightly as she passed Garrett and followed Cal down the trail.

  Within the first hour, the trail turned and angled south, following a valley floor with hills rising up to the east and the west. With the sun directly overhead, Lyra found herself torn between covering herself to block the direct sunlight and removing layers to cool herself. Rather than stopping to eat, she pulled trail rations from the pack to share with Cal and Garrett as they continued walking. At some point in the late afternoon, the trail turned west again, rising toward a saddle that straddled two mountains.

  With her feet already sore, Lyra’s thighs soon burned from the incline as the trail meandered up the wooded hillside. She refused to complain or even allow a single groan, unwilling to give Garrett the satisfaction. I should have let him carry the stupid pack. The sun was low in the sky by the time they crested the saddle, and they caught their first glimpse of what lay to the west.

  Another line of peaks, covered with pines and leaf trees, stood opposite from them, hovering over the narrow valley that lie between. Beyond those peaks, hilltops and ridgelines covered the countryside until the land reached the distant ocean, which appeared like a bright strip at the horizon.

  Lyra’s gaze shifted closer and followed the opposing hillside downward. Upon the valley floor, she found an open meadow occupied by tents and wagons. Men in small groups crossed the area, some heading toward the dark opening of a cave cut into a cliffside to the south.

  “We’ve found them.” Cal’s voice sounded somber. “May Issal watch over us.”

  “How many did you say they have?” Garrett asked.

  “Thousands, I’m told.”

  Garrett grunted. “Not enough tents for thousands. Hundreds, yes. Thousands no.” He pointed toward the south end of the valley. “That cave is either massive, or there aren’t that many here.”

  “Night is almost upon us. Let’s climb down while some light remains.” Cal continued down the trail, leading them toward the waiting army.

  The valley was dark. Red clouds within the purple blanket above appeared as if the sky were bleeding. Hovering high overhead, shining between the clouds, was the strange planet. Now appearing in early evening, it was a bright object in the heavens, sure to provide added light despite the setting sun.

  Lyra moved carefully to avoid disturbing the undergrowth as she peered through the trees, toward an oversized white tent stationed beneath a listing banner. A blue and red symbol marked the white flag, but she was unable to identify it amid the folds. The tent shifted and a man stepped out. Lyra gasped.

  The man stood twice the height of any man she had ever seen. His hand was held up to shield his eyes, as if the light of dusk was too strong. He wore patchwork clothing, hastily sewn together to fit his massive frame. The giant walked toward the cave she had seen earlier. Distant shouts arose from the cave as he vanished into the dark maw. Others moved within the shadowy cave, men the same size as the ten-foot tall soldier. Deciding she had seen enough, she turned and snuck back to where Garrett and Cal stood waiting.

  When she emerged from the brush, Lyra found Cal on one knee, breathing as if he were exhausted. His shirt was off, a strange symbol drawn on his stomach. Suddenly his breathing calmed. He stood and took a deep breath, appearing refreshed.

  “Whew. I feel better.” Cal turned toward Garrett. “Now, lift your jerkin so I can draw a rune on you.”

  Garrett did so and Cal used a piece of coal to draw a symbol on the man’s rippled stomach. Cal’s breathing quickened and his eyes lit up with red sparks. The rune on Garrett’s torso began to glow. The captain stared at it with a slack jaw as the symbol pulsed and faded. He staggered, grabbing ahold of a nearby tree to prevent from falling over. A crunching sound caused Lyra’s focus to shift toward Garrett’s hand. His fingers dug deep into the tree, sending chunks of bark tumbling to the forest floor. When he removed his hand from the trunk, deep pits remained. Garrett flexed his hand, staring at it in awe.

  “I feel incredible. What…what did you do to me?”

  “I gave you a boost. I hope to avoid a fight, but if it comes down to that, I’m praying it will be enough for us to escape. Just be careful. Your added strength will be dangerous if you underestimate it.” Cal turned toward Lyra. “What did you see?”

  “I saw…I saw a giant. He came out of a big white tent and entered the cave. There are others inside the cavern. A lot of them.”

  Cal frowned. “It seems that Elias was telling the truth. I’m afraid of what that means.” He looked at Garrett. “Keep your hand on the sword at all times. If anything strange seems to affect Tali or me, pull the sword out and swing it.”

  Garrett frowned. “Swing it at what?”

  “Just swing it so it sings.”

  Garrett’s frown deepened, but he said nothing else.

  “Be ready with the lute, Tali. You’ll need to use it if I can’t get them to believe me.”

  “Okay, but what are you going to do?” Lyra asked.

  “I’m going to reveal my greatest discovery…and my biggest secret.” Cal glanced up toward the bright circular shape hovering in the evening sky. “If this works, we will rid ourselves of the threat and nobody will even be harmed.” His gaze lowered, shifted to Lyra, and then to Garrett. “Are you ready?”

  Lyra shrugged, while Garrett nodded. Cal took a breath and led them down the trail.

  The trees opened to the meadow, its grass heavily trampled. A scan of the field revealed dozens of tents and even more wagons, filled with supplies. Without pausing, Cal led them to the pavilion beside the flag Lyra had seen earlier.

  Just before they reached the large white tent, the flap pulled aside and a giant man ducked through the opening. He stood upright, towering over them. Confusion crossed his face.

  “Who are you?” his voice boomed.

  Lyra had been hostage to fear numerous times over the past year – when her father died, when she fell into the pit, when Gilo attacked and broke her window, and while freeing the captive Tantarri to name a few. However, she had never experienced terror like this. It rendered her unable to move, incapable of even breathing. Lyra found herself wishing she were anywhere but here. Garrett pulled his sword free and gave it a tentative swing. A whirling sound emitted from the fluted blade and the fear holding Lyra captive washed away, ra
w courage filling the cavity it created. The giant man eyed Garrett’s sword warily.

  Cal stepped toward the tall man. “I am Master Arcanist, Pascal Fallbrandt. I must meet with the Grand Master Arcanist on urgent business.”

  The man pointed toward the tent. “He’s in there.”

  The fear struck again until Lyra heard the sword sing. With her mind clear, she realized that the magic infused into the sword countered something about the giant man, something about his voice.

  Cal ducked into the tent, followed by Lyra, and then by Garrett.

  20

  While it had grown dark outside, it was even darker inside the pavilion. Lyra stopped beside Cal, attempting to see beyond the slice of twilight leaking through the doorway. The dull glow of hot coals in a brazier at the center of the tent slowly gave shape to the interior.

  Three poles, set at even spans, held up the high ceiling, while eight shorter poles supported the outer edge. One man stood in the center of the room, near the brazier. Seven cloaked men occupied chairs along one tent wall. Five empty bedrolls lay at the far end of the tent while crates, barrels, and a small table were arranged along the wall opposite from where the men were seated.

  Lyra followed Cal further into the tent, gasping when she noticed the cloaked men’s eyes, glowing not with the bright sparks she saw when Cal performed his magic, but with a dull red that reminded her of blood, reminded her of Gilo. Shifting her gaze, she recognized the cloaked man who stood in the center of the room. Before him was a shirtless man seated on an oversized chair. Like the others, the man standing had eyes emitting a red glow. His expression shifted from surprise to a grin. Lyra felt a chill snake down her spine as he stared at Cal.

  “Pascal. You came just in time to see us complete our army. Here sits the last man we must convert. This common soldier will soon be an unstoppable force.” Elias gestured toward the man seated on the over-sized chair, the only man whose eyes were not glowing. “If you intend to stop us, you’re too late. Nothing can stop the Holy Army now, nothing ever will stop it.”

  “Why would I stop you?” Cal asked. “I’m here to help you.”

  Elias frowned and glanced toward the other cloaked men. “Interesting. And why would you do that?”

  Cal stepped closer. “It is time to draw the people of the world into Issal’s fold. With this army behind us, it will become obvious to the rulers that they cannot resist the Ministry any longer. The day has come where the Ministry will rule everyone, not just in Kalimar, but across the entire continent. Guided by our righteousness, we will erase the kingdoms of yesterday and build a new single empire – the Empire of Issalia.”

  With narrowed eyes, Elias stared at Cal as the seven men seated did the same. After a long pause, Elias nodded.

  “Very well. Let me see to this soldier, and then we can discuss what you can do to help our cause.”

  Cal nodded. “Go on.”

  Elias turned toward the man seated before him, a man of average height and build. The man’s wrists were bound to the chair arms, his eyes white with fear. However, the man said nothing. His gaze followed Elias as he reached toward the brazier and took hold of one of the two long rods sticking up from it. Lifting the metal rod, he raised it and Lyra noticed the twisted symbol at the end of it glowing orange. Elias pressed the hot metal against the man’s chest, and the man screamed in agony. When he pulled the rod away, the man’s skin smoldered, and he shook in pain. Elias grabbed the other rod and pushed it against the man’s skin, eliciting another scream, causing Lyra to cringe at the idea of that much pain.

  The man shook and collapsed in the chair, fainting. Elias removed the brand and set the rod back into the brazier. He leaned forward and placed his hand on the man’s arm. The man’s body shook with a chill and he stirred, his skin no longer smoldering.

  Another Arcanist stepped forward, his eyes glowing with bright sparks of energy. One of the two branded runes flared bright red and then pulsed as the glow faded. He then put his hand on the shirtless soldier’s arm as the man began to grow larger. The soldier moaned in agony. The moan turned to a roar and then a scream as he continued to grow in fits and bursts. By the time the process stopped, the soldier’s size had nearly doubled, and he towered over the other man, even while he remained seated.

  Another cloaked man stood as bright red energy sizzled in his eyes. The other branded rune began to glow. The cloaked man grabbed the giant’s wrist as the glow faded. This time, the man shook violently for a bit, but remained quiet other than gasping for air. The cloaked man nodded and reclaimed his seat.

  Elias stepped before the giant man and waved him forward. “Rise, my son. You are a Paladin of the Holy Army, able to crush mortal men who deny the might of Issal. Your words alone will strike fear into the hearts of those who oppose you.”

  The man stood, bending at the waist to fit beneath the eight-foot high tent ceiling. With a nod, he accepted a massive shirt from one of the cloaked men and slipped it over his head as he walked toward the door. Cal, Lyra, and Garrett moved aside as the giant man ducked through the flap and stepped out into the twilight.

  “That was our final soldier, Cal. Our numbers are now in excess of five thousand soldiers, each as strong as five men. Their very voices are forever infused with Fear, making it impossible for common men to stand against them.” Elias looked toward his brethren again. “Under the guidance of The Hand, the kingdoms that have resisted the Ministry will surely bend. Tonight, we depart for Sol Limar. Tomorrow night, we attack and defeat our first king, and with him, the kingdom of Kalimar.”

  Lyra turned to Cal, seeking some sort of assurance. Despite Elias’ ominous statement, Cal appeared unaffected.

  “Your plan is flawed, Elias.” Cal pointed toward the tent doorway. “Each of those men will now eat as much as three or four normal men. With five thousand of them, you must be burning through your food stores at an unbelievable rate.”

  Elias frowned.

  “How are you going to feed an army this size while on the road, Elias?”

  “What’s your point?”

  Cal smiled. “My point is that I’m here to reveal another discovery, one that will not only solve your logistics problems but can also give the Ministry every major city on the continent in just weeks.”

  “What are you talking about? What discovery?”

  Cal stepped closer to Elias, glaring at his red eyes. “I have discovered a means to travel instantly from one place to another, a magical gateway of sorts. It will enable you to travel hundreds of miles as simply as passing through that doorway.” Cal pointed toward the tent flap again. Every person present turned toward the flap in silent consideration.

  Finally, Elias shook his head. “I don’t believe you. You can’t do that. Nobody can.”

  Cal stepped closer. “I can, and I will.”

  Cal turned and walked toward the door, but Elias followed him.

  “What do you plan to do, Cal? They won’t listen to you. They won’t follow you.”

  Cal stopped at the door flap. “I don’t need them to listen to me. When I show you, you’ll see that this ability will give you what you most desire. The Hand, and the Ministry, will see you as a hero. You’ll capture entire kingdoms in days, the continent in weeks. You might become the most important person in history, Elias.”

  Despite his red glowing pupils, the hunger in Elias’ eyes was apparent. Those eyes then flicked toward Lyra.

  “I’ll be taking this before you have a chance to use it.” He reached out and grabbed the strap to her lute, cutting it with a knife that appeared from nowhere.

  “What are you doing?” Lyra demanded as she tried to grab the lute.

  Elias flipped it over and pointed at the symbols etched into the back of the drum. “He’s infused the lute. I’m sure of it after what happened to me during your last visit. I can’t remember most of it, but I do remember you playing, and I find it odd that I can’t remember anything afterward.”

  Lyra glanced to
ward Garrett, who stood immobile, a statue with one hand on the sword at his hip. She turned toward Cal, and found him holding the tent flap open as he stared at Elias.

  “We needed to know the truth, Elias,” Cal nodded. “If I hadn’t known, I couldn’t be here now trying to help you.”

  Elias turned and retreated further into the tent. “Perhaps. Or, perhaps your finding out enabled you to hatch a plan to stop us.” He stopped and turned to point at Garrett. “Why bring an armed soldier if your intent is to help us?”

  Cal shrugged. “One armed man poses little threat to your army. At the same time, a hired sword to protect me from bandits or beasts seemed a good idea. It would be difficult for me to help you if I died on the way here.”

  Elias nodded. “Fair enough. I still don’t believe you can do what you say. Food might be a challenge, but we’ll make due. Once we take a city, we’ll take the food we need to reach the next.”

  Cal shook his head again. “You do that and you’ll only kill those you want to bring under the Ministry’s wing. Those who don’t die defending the city will die from starvation.”

  One of the other men stood, appearing angry. “Enough of this nonsense. Go, Pascal. Take your two followers and go.”

  “So you have a spine now, Pax?” Cal said with a smile. “All it took is seven fellow Arcanists and an army of five thousand giants backing you?”

  Somehow, the red glow in Pax’s eyes deepened, his face becoming a thundercloud. He turned toward Elias. “Are you going to let him talk to me that way?”

  Elias sighed and turned toward Cal. “Off with you, Cal. Don’t try to cross us, or you’ll wish you had never been born.”

  Cal waved Lyra and Garrett over, holding the tent flap open as they ducked outside.

  21