Rogue Legacy: The Secret History of Issalia

by Jeffrey L. Kohanek

  “You don’t know the half of it, Gar,” Lyra said. “They were using magic to change the soldiers into giant beasts.” She shivered as she remembered their terrifying howls. “I shudder to think that they had planned to force you through the same transformation.”

  “Well, then. I must thank you, again.” He nodded and took a slow breath. “When the other men and I were freed, we returned to the clan and headed north. However, we found ourselves without a leader after Eddrick’s death. Seeing that the clan required guidance and strength, I volunteered my name among those who might become the new Head Clansman. I knew my chances were slim, because I lack the wisdom of the older men, but felt it was my duty to demonstrate the willingness. Ironically, I was awarded the responsibility when mine was the only name submitted.

  “In the past, the clan had traveled the same route year after year, spending winters in the fields outside of Sol Polis and summers in pastures north of Vinhagus. Rather than continue this tradition, I chose to lead the clan in a new direction, in hope of avoiding other travelers, especially anyone who was part of the Ministry. We discovered a rarely used trail that took us into the mountains, away from the coastal cities. Eventually, that trail disappeared, forcing us to cut our own path, but I refused to relent. Let me tell you, it is not easy getting wagons through wooded mountains. A full six weeks passed before we crested the final saddle and looked down upon the plains.”

  “We made camp at the edge of the fields and woke the next morning to the sound of thunder. I emerged from my wagon, but found not one cloud in the sky. The noise grew louder and I turned toward it, squinting in the light of the morning sun. My heart stopped when a white stallion crested a nearby hill and galloped past the camp, leading a herd of wild horses. Faster than anything we had ever seen, these majestic creatures were surely gods themselves. They sped across the fields as the entire Tantarri clan watched in awe. The moment the last horse faded from view, I declared that this was our new home, and that I would one day ride that white stallion.”

  Gar stood, holding his arms out wide. “These plains go on for miles and miles, an endless supply of food for our cattle.” He gestured toward the darkness, “Just north of here, you’ll find a creek that leads to a river that is always flowing. Our spring crops are planted along that creek; vegetables and grains to sustain us so that we need not call upon Outlanders ever again.”

  “Here, we have everything we need.” He sat down again, staring into the fire. “But we also wanted to ensure that what happened would never happen again.”

  “Since the world is not as peace-loving as we wish, we now acknowledge that we must defend ourselves. Every healthy Tantarri adult is now a trained warrior. These Tantarri cut their own spears, train their bodies, and practice their weapons every day. Even the women. All adult warriors now shave their heads, but for a single topknot and tail that they maintain as a way to honor the horse gods who live here. No enemy will know if they face male or female Tantarri. By contrast, non-fighters grow their hair long as a woman might in your society, making them appear less fierce and less likely to draw enemy attention. As clan leader, I keep my hair long to separate myself from the warriors, a clear symbol to them when in the field, regardless of distance.”

  Lyra glanced at Tiri and found her focused on Gar, listening intently as the man spoke.

  “These horses you speak of – have you ever captured one?”

  Gar scoffed. “You do not capture such amazing creatures, Tiri. You must instead give yourself to them.”

  “Fine. So have you been able to ride one?”

  He sighed. “No. I have tried many times, but no horse will allow one of us within twenty paces.”

  Lyra frowned as she imagined these swift horses, considering how one might befriend them.

  “So, you live out here in these fields?” Tiri asked.

  “Yes. We move the herds about from time to time, but the main camp is here during the cooler months.” He pointed west. “We will soon move to the upper plains for the summer, but we must complete our harvest first.”

  Tiri leaned toward Gar, concern reflected in her eyes. “It must be difficult to survive out here with no businesses to buy from, no government to support you.”

  “You don’t understand.” He shook his head. “Those things you describe are part of the problem. Rather than embracing the Spirit of Nature…embracing freedom…those things contain you, bind you to society.” He smiled. “The Tantarri will never again be bound in such a way.”

  Lyra considered his words, understanding what he meant, but unable to decide if she felt the same.

  “Ah, dinner appears ready.” Gar stood and turned toward the gathering crowd, now surpassing forty people. “Fellow Tantarri.” Loud and firm, his voice echoed throughout the camp. “As we sometimes do, we found a stray girl three years back and brought her into the clan, making her one of us. A tragic series of events stole that girl from the clan, events that included the murder of three Tantarri, their souls rejoining those of our ancestors.”

  The crowd fell silent, the clearing still but for the crackle of flame and whisper of the breeze.

  “Miraculously, that girl has now returned to the family, guided back to our wagons by the spirits themselves. Tonight, we celebrate the return of Tali, adopted daughter of the Tantarri.”

  Everyone cheered, many yelling her name.

  “Eat well. Afterward, we dance as our ancestors did so long ago.”

  Those with shaved heads gathered to sit around the fire as the others, often children or the elderly, brought plates filled with slabs of beef, potatoes, squash, and flatbread. Lyra grinned as Dari ran to her, holding a plate of food with an eager grin.

  “I have your dinner, Tali.” The girl’s eyes lit up as she spoke. “I’m so happy that you’re back.”

  Lyra accepted the plate with one hand while wrapping the other arm around Dari, squeezing her tight. “I’m happy to be back, Dari.” She released her and smiled at the girl. “My, you’ve grown since I last saw you.”

  “I’m ten summers now.” Dari stood tall and proud. “Gar says that I can start practicing with the spear this summer. I plan to be a warrior.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be a fierce warrior, too.”

  Dari grinned. “Thanks, Tali.” She then turned and ran to grab another plate of food.

  Lyra found herself ravenous, not thinking about anything else until the plate was empty. She sat back and turned toward Tiri and Gar, the prior telling the story of her father’s betrayal and the girls’ subsequent flight to the latter, their plates still half-full.

  Seeing Gar again brought back memories, reminding Lyra of their bittersweet goodbye. When presented with two paths, she had chosen to help Cal put an end to The Hand’s plan rather than leave with Gar. Regardless of the situation, Gar likely took her decision personally. Even now, she felt an invisible wedge between them, forever changing their relationship.

  Lyra always knew that Gar would move on after that rejection, but the reality stung more than expected. She sighed at the way Gar looked at Tiri, a gleam in his eyes as he laughed at something she whispered.

  A tap on the shoulder caused Lyra to turn back toward the fire, finding a man with a shaved head standing there. He extended his arm, holding a stringed instrument toward her.

  “You play and sing so wonderfully, Tali.” Hentar bowed his head. “I would be honored if you took my spot tonight and played with the others.”

  Lyra felt excitement stir inside at the thought of playing. “I’d love to, Hentar. Thank you so much for asking.”

  She grasped the instrument gently, tilting it up as she moved it into position. A quarter-circle around the fire pit, two men were preparing makeshift drums. She stood and circled toward them, receiving smiles in greeting.

  “Let’s play something fun.” Lyra grinned as the two men nodded.

  She patted the guitar’s body to a beat. The drummers matched the rhythm, one with a deep bass tone and the other w
ith a metallic clang. Lyra strummed the strings, her fingers dancing along the frets on the neck, and she began to sing.

  In moments, the Tantarri were dancing in pairs around the fire. The children again formed a circle, taking turns dancing at the heart as the others clapped to the music. Gar took Tiri’s hand and found an open space, twirling her to the music as she laughed. Lyra ignored it, focusing on the music, urging it to mend her damaged heart.

  The song ended and she began another, again and again without pause, playing until the fire had fizzled to glowing coals, the flame little more than a trickle. Lyra’s fingers felt raw and her throat felt parched when she allowed the music to stop. She glanced around and found that half of the Tantarri had retired for the evening, including the children. However, Gar remained with Tiri, him talking and her laughing at something he said. Seeing what was happening, a pang of jealousy twisted within Lyra, the feeling passing in a breath.

  Expecting that Tiri and Gar would carry on late into the night, she decided to get a good night’s sleep. She found Hentar and handed the man his guitar, thanking him before she headed toward Gar’s wagon, very much looking forward to sleeping anywhere but on the ground.

  A scream woke Lyra. She lifted her head and turned toward the door, causing her hammock to swing.

  “What was that?” Tiri asked from the hammock beside her.

  Gar stood and pulled a tunic over his head as he moved toward the door. “That was Elden Duratti.”

  The door opened, and Gar slipped out into the night.

  “Who?” Tiri asked.

  “He used to be a ministry healer.” Lyra twisted and looked down at Dari. “Should we get up and help?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Dari mumbled from the bed below. “He does this almost every night.”

  “Bad dreams?” Tiri suggested.

  “I guess.” Dari sounded tired. “He calls them something else. Profetsi or something.”

  “Prophecy?” Lyra offered.

  “Yeah. He says something bad is going to happen a long time from now.”

  “What should we do?”

  “There’s nothing you can do. Go back to sleep. Gar will be back soon anyway.”

  Lyra stared at the doorway, recalling a prophetic vision waking Cal in the middle of the night. That vision enabled him to prevent The Hand from taking over the world with their twisted army.

  She wondered what future events Elden might be witnessing…and if there was anything she could do to help.

  33

  Lyra gritted her teeth and attacked, dipping as she spun about with one hand raised to block Flori’s spear as the other swept low, her wooden short sword slicing in a broad arc. A loud clack sounded as the spear struck Lyra’s wooden dagger. Her spin continued without resistance when Flori leapt over the strike aimed for her legs. Before the other girl could strike, Lyra spun away, standing upright three strides from her opponent.

  Flori grinned. “Did you really think that move would work on me again?”

  “It’s been a few days,” Lyra shrugged. “I figured it was worth a try again.”

  “Try this.”

  Lunging forward, Flori jabbed the blunted spear tip at Lyra, who twisted as she knocked it aside with her dagger. When Lyra chopped down at Flori with her sword, the other girl flicked the butt end of her spear up to block it. Clack. Flori raised the spear and flicked one end toward Lyra’s head, but she ducked beneath the blow and spun away.

  The two girls locked gazes, one measuring the other as they had done every morning for the past week. Lyra expected that Flori would next attempt a jab. She focused on the girl’s spear, readying herself to try something new. Flori’s spear lashed out toward Lyra’s midsection, but Lyra spun toward her, the blunted spearhead sliding across her back. Lyra then locked her dagger arm around the spear and rammed her sword at Flori, knowing that it would connect unless the other girl released her spear. The shock of impact drove Flori backward as the end of the wooden sword slammed into midriff, the girl’s ribs breaking with an audible crack. An intense wince crossed Flori’s face and she fell to one knee, holding her injured side as she struggled to breathe.

  The crowd that had gathered clapped as Elden stood and crossed the dueling circle to kneel beside Flori.

  “It sounded like you’ve some broken ribs,” he said as he put his hand on her bare arm. “I’ll have you fixed in a moment.”

  He closed his eyes and all fell still. A shiver shook Flori’s body, as if overtaken by a sudden chill. Her eyes bulged and her mouth hung open for a long moment before she gasped for air, reclaiming breaths she had been denied since the moment of the injury. Elden patted her back and stood.

  “Thank you, Elden Duratti.”

  “You’re welcome, Flori.” He squeezed her shoulder and departed from the circle, retreating to his wagon.

  Gar approached with Tiri at his side, which was now a common sight.

  “Wonderful match, Flori,” Gar noted. “You’re getting better against Tali’s two-handed fighting style.”

  Flori bowed toward Gar. “Thank you. It has been good practice. I believe we should have sword fighters among the Tantarri, if nothing more than to offer practice against such weapons.”

  Gar nodded. “I agree. I will have Shrepp forge a few swords and get Luyis and Berrin to carve more practice weapons like Tali’s once we’ve settled into camp on the plateau.”

  Flori gave Gar another bow before turning to walk away.

  “Until seeing you this week, I never realized that you’re such a fierce fighter…um…Tali.” Tiri bit her lip, glancing toward Gar. “It appears that the mornings you spent with Elan have been effective.”

  Lyra shrugged, glancing at the wooden weapons in her hands. “Using these as weapons isn’t the same as a blade, but at least I don’t have to worry about cutting anything off myself or my opponent.”

  Gar nodded. “Yes. Elden Duratti tells us that he cannot heal a dismembered appendage, but he can heal bruises and broken bones. This is why we only practice with blunt weapons made of wood.”

  Lyra glanced toward the former Ministry healer, now surrounded by children, who listened intently as the man spoke to them. She decided that Elden had settled in well with the Tantarri and expected that the clan was thankful to have his abilities at their disposal.

  “Tali, Tiri,” Gar put a hand on each of their shoulders, “now that the duel is finished, would you two mind helping Dari pack the wagon? The herds are already miles west of here, and we must leave soon if we are to catch them by nightfall.”

  “Of course, Gar.” Tiri replied. “We are happy to help.”

  “I forgot how slow the Tantarri travel,” Lyra grumbled.

  Gar laughed. “Cattle pace us. Cattle move slowly. We actually prefer it that way.” His head bobbed side to side with slow sway of the wagon, matching the lumbering motion of the oxen pulling it. “If they do move quickly, something has frightened them, and you had best not get in their way.”

  Tiri leaned forward from her seat beside Gar, opposite from Lyra. “I don’t mind at all. It gives me more time to admire the beauty surrounding us.”

  Lyra’s gaze scanned their surroundings, finding a similar view that spanned many miles in any direction. The wind caused the sea of grass to dance, sending rippling waves across it from west to east and creating the illusion that the wagon was moving far faster than reality. Tall cliffs towered over a lake to the north, with only a thin slice of the water visible from her angle. To the south, a ridgeline with cliff walls facing the plains matched the cliff walls to the north, coming together like a funnel, with only a narrow gap open in the distant west. Gar pointed toward the opening.

  “Through that gap, the ground rises to the upper plateau…our destination.”

  “How far is it?” Tiri asked.

  He shrugged. “Perhaps twenty-five miles.”

  “Ugh,” Lyra groaned. “We’ve been riding on this wagon for four days already. Now, you tell me we have two more
days of sitting on this stupid wooden seat?”

  Gar snorted. “You can get off and walk if you wish.”

  Lyra’s brow furrowed as she considered his words. A moment later, she leapt off to land in the grass, bent and trampled from the passing herd of cattle.

  Gar chuckled, “Suit yourself.”

  “Oh, I’m happy to walk. My feet have many miles in them before they’re sore.” Lyra rubbed her backside. “I can’t say the same for my rear.”

  Tiri giggled, the twinkle of her voice mixing with Gar’s hearty laugher.

  If traveling across the flat plains was slow, the slog up the incline to the upper plateau was torturous. Due to the weight of the wagons and the steepness of the incline, the Tantarri had to unload supplies and carry them up by hand, while the oxen pulled the unladen wagons uphill in fits and grunts. Although the total incline was merely a mile in length, the process consumed an entire afternoon. By the time the wagons were on level ground, settled into a circle, and the goods had been carried into camp, the sun was edging below the tall snow-capped spires to the west.

  The area in the center of the wagons had been cleared of grass, leaving only sporadic shoots showing among the dark dirt. At the core of the clearing was a fire pit, encircled by rocks the size of a man’s head. While some members of the clan prepared the wagons for their stay, others prepared dinner for the evening. Before they could be assigned a task, Lyra took Tiri by the elbow and snuck out of camp.

  “What are you doing?” Tiri asked.

  “While I appreciate the Tantarri for taking us in, the clan does this every year without our help.” Lyra glanced back at the camp, finding only the wagon tops and people’s heads visible above the wavering grass. “It seems a good opportunity for a bit of privacy and a chance to explore a bit.”