Rogue Legacy, Jeffrey L. Kohanek [best pdf reader for ebooks .txt] 📗

Gar handed her two full water skins, which she accepted and slid over her other shoulder.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take a horse, even for a day or two? They’ve already shown that they know how to return to Viridian.”

“No, Gar.” Lyra shook her head. “It doesn’t seem right. They belong here…belong with the Tantarri. I’ve traveled on foot before. I can do it now.”

“I wish you could be here for the wedding.” Tears clouded Tiri’s eyes. Again.

Lyra steeled herself, focusing on her task to avoid the emotions welling up inside. “You’ll be fine, both of you. You have each other and that makes all the difference.” She forced a smile. “Besides, Elden says that I can return in the future, once I’ve done whatever it is I must do in Wayport.”

“Be careful,” Tiri warned. “I know that they call Wayport the Free City, but the term is deceiving. Father always said that the pirates running Wayport were not to be trusted. They have their own laws and their own agenda.”

Lyra nodded. “So you’ve told me, at least three times now. Don’t worry about me. You know I’m careful, and I know how to blend in.”

Tiri leaned forward with an embrace that Lyra returned. Unbidden, tears emerged again. When Tiri stepped back, Lyra wiped her eyes dry.

“Be well, sister,” Tiri said.

“You too.” She looked at Gar. “Take care of Tiri. If you don’t, I’ll come back and beat you bloody.”

Gar grinned. “I guess I best treat her like a princess then.”

Lyra chuckled as Gar gave her a hug. When he released her, Lyra heard another voice.

“Tali?” A girl stood in the doorway, holding a glass jar, sealed with a cork. “I wanted to give you a gift before you leave.”

“Hello, Dari.” The girl approached, holding the jar toward Lyra. “There’s not much left, but I thought you might like some honey as a treat during your journey.”

Lyra accepted the jar and eyed the amber gel that filled the bottom third of the jar.

“This is a thoughtful gift, Dari. A taste or two of honey each day will surely make my travels more enjoyable.”

Dari smiled and burst forward, wrapping her arms about Lyra. “I wish you could stay.”

Lyra held the girl tight as she kissed the top of her head. “So do I, Dari. So do I.”

When Dari released Lyra, she wiped her eyes, her nose, and bolted from the room.

Lyra stared at the curtain sway until it settled in the doorway. Just as she was about to follow, the curtain slid aside and Elden stepped into the room.

“Hello, Tali,” he said. “I…I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry for the way you’ve been forced to leave. I wish things were different, but I must do what I can to ensure the future of our people…of all people.”

“I realize that it’s not your fault, Elden.” Lyra felt oddly surprised that she didn’t blame him. “I’ve seen what Prophecy can do, and the things it can prevent when you follow the guidance of a vision.” She shivered, thinking of what might have happened if not for Cal’s prophecy three years earlier.

Elden nodded. “I’m glad to hear that.” He then held his hand out. In his grip was a black scabbard made of hardened leather straps, held in place by gleaming metal studs. “A gift from me. I believe it will fit your sword, and you’ll find it easier to carry on your hip than shoved into your pack.”

Lyra stared at the scabbard as she lowered the pack. She pulled the sword free and unwound the cloak that was wrapped about the weapon. Accepting the scabbard from Elden, she slid the sword inside and found the motion smooth as silk until she reached the hilt, the last bit fitting snug.

“Thank you, Elden. This is perfect.” Lyra undid her belt, looped it through the scabbard, and slid it to her hip, opposite from the leg where she kept her dagger.

“Good luck, Tali. I don’t know what it is you must do, but allow your conscience to guide you, and I’m sure you’ll find your destiny. Your very nature should place you on the right path. At least, I hope so, because thousands of lives depend on it.”

Lyra nodded, but felt helpless. Some unknown fate awaited her in Wayport…a fate that affected the entire world. What if I arrive in Wayport too late? How will I know what I am supposed to do? What if I make the wrong choice? So many questions, so much doubt.

She lifted her pack back to her shoulder, took a breath to steel herself, and, with a heavy heart, stepped through the doorway.

39

Lyra looked back, gazing across the vast field of grass, trying to find the narrow canyon from which her journey began. The ridges and foothills that surrounded the southern and eastern edges of the upper plateau shone bright oranges and reds in the light of the setting sun. Dark shadows marked numerous openings, making it difficult for Lyra to decide which canyon led to Mondomi.

She sighed and resumed her journey, cresting a rise that connected the hill on her right to the one on her left. Unlike the fertile fields behind her, the hills were dotted by green scrub amidst dirt-covered ground. Weaving among spiked shrubs and tufts of dry grass, Lyra descended into the shallow valley, searching for a place to stay the night.

When she reached the bottom, she turned westward and followed the valley floor toward a copse of trees she had spotted on the way down. Shadows overtook her as the sun dropped below the tall mountains to the west. Almost an hour passed by the time she reached the trees, the purple sky above providing just enough light to see the pond that the trees encircled. Without any better ideas, she found a flat spot beneath a tree, took her cloak from her pack, wrapped it about her, and lay down while using the pack as a pillow. Sleep was slow in coming.

Waking with the sun, Lyra gobbled down a hard roll and a strip of dried meat before resuming her journey southward. The day passed slowly, the foothills all seeming the same, monotonous and never ending. Up and down, she went, hill after hill, as the sun made its own journey across the sky above her. It was well past its midpoint when she reached a steeper hillside and was forced to shift east or west before she could advance.

Without any form of guidance, she opted to head west, thinking that route appeared easier than the other. Lyra followed a wash up the steep hillside, climbing over boulders and rock piles in her path – the result of the hill breaking loose from erosion.

When she reached the top, she found herself panting, thirsty, and tired from the effort. Sweat ran down her forehead, stinging her eyes and forcing her to rub them with her knuckles. She stumbled along the ridge, noticing a canyon to the east, bounded by two steep ridgelines.

The ground gave and her foot suddenly slid downward. She tried to grab the nearest rock, only to find that it, too, fell with her. Scrambling, she urgently tried to grab ahold of something, anything, as she slid downward until the earth swallowed her.

Lyra woke to darkness. Her head hurt. Her hand hurt, scraped from the fall. She moved the other hand, shaking loose pebbles from it before she brought it to the back of her head. Pain shot through her brain when she touched the lump, but she felt nothing when she pulled her fingers away and rubbed them together.

“Dry. At least there’s no blood,” she mumbled.

Looking up and blinking, her eyes found their focus on white specs far above – a narrow view to the night sky visible through a long chimney of stone. She forced herself into a sitting position. A groan escaped her lips from the pain, her body bruised and battered from her fall. Debris fell off her body and she wobbled, gripping a nearby wall to steady herself.

A blue blob tilted and twisted before her eyes. She blinked to clear her vision and she realized that a dull blue light illuminated the cave walls before her. She pulled her feet beneath herself and stood, wincing when her head struck the ceiling. Bent at the waist, she shuffled forward