Rogue Legacy, Jeffrey L. Kohanek [best pdf reader for ebooks .txt] 📗
- Author: Jeffrey L. Kohanek
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Elias’s eyes narrowed, the cup in the young man’s hand trembling slightly before he scoffed. “You’re joking.”
Cal shook his head. “This no joke, nor is it a lie. The dogs tried to kill us last night. If I hadn’t determined that light is painful to their transformed eyes, one or both of us,” he nodded toward Lyra, “might be dead.”
Cal set his cup down. “Unfortunately, the dogs broke my gate and escaped. The deaths of others will likely soon be on my hands because of them.”
During this exchange, Elias increasingly grew more pale, until it appeared he might be ill.
“But…” Elias stammered. “We’ve seen only positive results with Infusion. Other than a permanent augmentation being a fraction as effective as a temporary augmentation, the results have been steady and reliable.”
“What you speak is true for inanimate objects, not for living, breathing beings.” Cal shook his head. “Perhaps our life force, the very thing that makes infusing living things easier, also opens the door for the captive Chaos to break free, which drives them mad.”
Elias remained quiet for a long moment before nodding. “I must think on this, consider the best path to take.” He appeared worried. “Do you have any ideas on how this might be cured? Do you know a safer approach?”
Cal shrugged. “I wish. At this point, I feel I must reconsider the entire effort. Perhaps there is a better way; perhaps it is best left alone.” He shook his head. “I just don’t know.”
Lyra shifted her feet, discomforted by Elias’ obvious distress at the information Cal shared.
“Elias, I don’t believe you’ve been properly introduced to my assistant.” Cal held his hand toward Lyra. “Tali, meet Grand Master Arcanist, Elias Firellus. Elias, meet Tali.”
Lyra’s brow raised. Grand Master Arcanist sounded like a high title, yet the man appeared no older than Cal. Lyra gave a small curtsy while Elias responded with a nod. The troubled expression remained on his face throughout the exchange.
“Tali happens to play the lute and has a wonderful voice.” Cal turned toward Lyra. “Tali, would you please play a little tune to help lift our spirits?”
Lyra nodded and her stomach fluttered as she pulled the lute strap over her head. Wiping the sweat from her palm on the side of her dress, she took a breath to calm her nerves. She wasn’t nervous about performing. That was easy. It was the magic that scared her.
A strum of the strings confirmed that they were still in tune, and a subsequent glance toward Cal caused her to notice him removing something from his pocket. He didn’t do anything with the item other than grip it within his closed fist. Lyra glanced down at the lute, placed her fingers on the frets, and began to play.
The song was even and flowing, neither sad nor a song that might be used for a dance. However, the music felt more compelling, the sound more expansive than anytime she had played before. Perhaps it was an effect of the round chamber. Perhaps it was something more. As she played, she found Cal staring at her. Their eyes met, and when he nodded, she began to sing.
What troubles you so? What is it you hide?
Open up your heart and in me, confide.
The truth of The Hand, share now with me,
For the truth, it shall set your guilt free.
Lyra stopped singing, but instead spoke to Elias as she continued to play.
“Your troubles weigh on you, Elias. Please, express them and let us share your burden.”
Elias nodded, his eyes staring into the distance, seeing something Lyra could not.
“It’s the augmentations we’ve been performing. So many. So, so many.”
Cal spoke. “Who, Elias? What augmentations?”
“We Arcanists. The army we are building for The Hand. An army of giants. Giants to be feared.”
Cal leaned forward “How many, Elias?”
Elias shrugged. “Over five-hundred, perhaps six-hundred. I lose count. The others are about the same.”
“Others?”
Elias nodded. “Yes. The eight of us.”
Cal’s eyes widened. “You each have performed augmentations on six hundred men?”
Elias nodded again.
“But how. You’d be exhausted after just one. Six hundred men would take many months.”
Elias shook his head. “We did this to ourselves first.”
The man pulled the front of his tunic down, revealing two runes etched into the skin of his pale chest.
Cal gasped. “Issal, spare us. Elias, what have you done?”
Shouts echoed outside the open window. Lyra finished drying the pot and set it on the shelf before tossing the damp towel atop the kitchen table. As she emerged from the courtyard, she found Cal unlocking the rebuilt gate.
The gate swung open to reveal two men standing beside a wagon. Lyra approached, curious. Visitors at the manor had proven to be a rarity. In three months, Grayson and his son had been the only others to appear within the compound – once when they filled and repaired the pit in the courtyard, and again when they came to repair the broken gate and Lyra’s broken window.
“Hello,” a tall, rough-looking man said. “Name is Derrel.” He thumbed toward the other man, who was younger and a bit leaner. “And this is Zeke. We’ve got sump’in in the wagon to deliver. We think this is the place.”
“That’s it, then?” Cal asked, nodding toward the cloth-covered object that filled the wagon bed.
“I guess. We picked ‘er up at the shop as ordered.” The man turned toward the wagon and rubbed the stubble on his weathered face. “The artisan was quite particular ‘bout how we loaded it, too. I don’t know how something so heavy can be breakable, but the man forced us to swear we’d treat it with care. Even had to stack blankets between it and the wagon bed.”
Derrel shook his head while his companion circled to the back of the wagon.
Excitement shone within Cal’s eyes as he rubbed his hands together. “Alright, then. Let’s get it unloaded and into the house.”
Derrel nodded, and he helped his companion remove the wagon’s rear panel. Zeke climbed into the wagon bed to grab one end of the object, while Derrel grabbed ahold of the other end. With a grunt, the men lifted the massive item and hauled it out of the wagon. Lyra retreated from the entrance to allow them room as Cal held the gate open. The men passed by and carried their delivery into the courtyard with Cal following close behind.
The men entered the courtyard and stopped. Derrel eyed the door to the house, then the object, before shaking his head.
“Ain’t gonna fit,” he mumbled.
“You’re right,” Cal agreed. “Just set it down here, and I’ll figure something out.”
The man shrugged and set the edge of the object on the stone tiles before Zeke tipped it until it stood upright. Derrel placed one hand at the small of his back, arching it as he groaned.
“Is that it?” Cal asked. “Wasn’t there another item?”
“Oh, yeah,” Zeke said. “I’ll grab it.”
The man passed through the open gate and returned to the wagon. He lifted the wagon seat and dug underneath to remove another cloth-covered object, long and narrow in shape. As the man returned, Lyra stared at the cloth, attempting to discern what was wrapped inside.
Zeke handed the item to Cal, who accepted it with a grin.
“Well, if you have nothing else for us,” Derrel said. “We had best be on our way.”
“Oh, right!” Cal dug into his pocket and fished out two gold coins. Hunger shone within the men’s eyes at the sight of gold, their grins widening as Cal set one coin into each of their palms.
“The man said that you paid well,” Derrel said. “Thank you, sir.”
The two men exited the courtyard and headed toward the gate with Derrel patting Zeke on the back. Lyra followed them and closed the gate before securing it with the bar. She returned to the courtyard to find Cal unwrapping the cloth from the object he held in his hands.
The gray sheet fell away to reveal a hilt poking from a black leather-bound scabbard. Cal gripped the hilt and slid the sword free, emitting the unmistakable sound of a blade being drawn. With a metal blade polished to a mirror-like finish, the honed edges gleamed in the afternoon sunlight. Lyra recognized the louvres stamped within the blade from the sketch Cal had created nearly a month earlier. Between the louvres and the hilt, she noticed a symbol was carved into the blade.
“Do you even know how to use a sword?”
“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
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