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

After a few steps, the cave floor angled downward, soon allowing her to stand upright. She rounded a bend and found a rock formation blocking the path but for a narrow gap between it and the ceiling. The blue light poured through that gap, giving her hope that it was a way out.

Finding secure handholds, she scaled a wall of rock that stood twice her height. When she reached the top, she took her pack off and held it in one hand as she shimmied through the opening, having to make adjustments when her sword became wedged against the top of the gap.

Lyra pulled herself forward on her belly, her head turned to the side until the space opened to a wider room. She rose to her hands and knees and stared at her surroundings in wide-eyed wonder. Blue light illuminated the cavern, emitting a glow from veins that swirled within the dark walls and ceiling. The cave was thirty strides across and nearly as wide. Long stalactites jutted down from the roof as stalagmites on the floor stretched up in an attempt to meet them. A shallow pool was nestled at the center of the cavern, occasional drips from above echoing in the chamber.

Placing her hand on a large rock to support herself as she stood, Lyra felt it move. She yanked her hand back from the boulder as it wobbled, hanging still for a moment before it tipped toward her. With a yip, she dove forward just in time to avoid the boulder as it tumbled from its resting spot to land right where she had been standing. Her heart raced as images of her crushed body flashed before her eyes.

“Oh, no.”

She scrambled to her feet and found that the boulder completely blocked the opening she had crawled through, making it impossible to escape by that route.

Turning about, she crossed the room toward the pool. She knelt beside it and dipped a hand in the cool water, lifting it to her nose. Her face scrunched at the smell of sulfur, making her thankful that she still had one full water skin. Thinking of water reminded her of her thirst and she took a drink from the water skin, briefly considering eating something as well before deciding against it. She might need her food to last longer than expected.

When she stood, she noticed another cave opening and moved toward it to investigate. Similar to the cavern, the tunnel walls had veins of blue, glowing to light the way. Further inspection revealed two other strips beside the blue. One strip appeared a bright gold, shimmering when she moved her head. The other strip also contained metal flakes, but of a far darker shade. Similar to the metallic stripes in the walls, chunks of gold stone and the darker metal lined the cave floor, broken off from the walls at some point in the past.

She followed the tunnel, its floor making a slow decent, while a rivulet of water flowed down it from the pool. Illuminated by the blue glow of the veins in the walls, she continued down the tunnel for fifty paces before the glow faded, leaving the path dark before her.

Backing a few steps, Lyra dug into her pack and removed the jar of honey. She popped it open and used her dagger to dig out a scoop, leaving the jar nearly empty. The honey tasted sweet, with a gummy texture. Another scoop and only thin trails of honey remained, little enough that Lyra didn’t mind wasting it.

She held the jar beside the cave wall and used her dagger to scrape some of the blue rock away, watching glowing powder settle into the bottom of the jar. Not satisfied, she scraped more of the soft stone away, until the bottom quarter of the jar was filled with glowing dust.

Sheathing her dagger, Lyra pressed the cork back into the jar to seal it. She then shouldered her pack and resumed her journey down the dark tunnel, holding the glowing jar up as a means of light.

Not long after she left the veins of light behind, the floor leveled. Lyra stopped and stared at the pile of debris blocking her path. The well of hope within her drained out, the vacuum it created filling with despair.

Exhausted and defeated, Lyra slid down the wall until she was sitting upright, staring blankly at the glowing jar on her lap. She slid her pack off her back and laid her head on it before drifting to sleep.

A dull pain woke Lyra. She sat up and rubbed at her side, discovering that a rock had been jutting into it while she slept. Picking it up, she looked at it and frowned. It was made of that dark metal she had seen earlier. Shifting her gaze toward the jar of glowing powder, she found its glow barely visible, although it rested beside her. Yet, there was light.

Turning toward the debris that blocked the tunnel, Lyra saw slices of bright light slipping through the narrow gaps. Daylight.

She scrambled to her feet and put her hands on the rocks, searching for a gap that she might exploit. The smallest rocks blocking her path were the size of her head. Most were far larger, too big for Lyra to move. Frustration began to bubble inside as she stared at the light, realizing that escape was so near, yet unreachable.

Her frustration boiled over, seeking release. She turned and wound up, throwing the rock in her hand as hard as possible. It hit another rock and a spark flashed in the darkness, flaring to a green flame and creating an explosion that reverberated in the narrow chamber. Lyra landed hard on her rear, wincing as bits of debris fell from the ceiling, pelting her head and shoulders.

Her ears rang and her head hurt again, but Lyra didn’t care. Hope had returned.

Rising gingerly, she collected her bag and the jar of powder and began retracing her path up the tunnel. Her gaze landed on the jar, and she realized that the glow was brighter. Curious, she shook it, and the glow flared to life, once again shedding pale blue light on her surroundings.

“Neat.”

She grinned and lifted the jar to light the way until she reached the point where the walls glowed. After setting her pack down, she began collecting rocks of various sizes. She set the golden ones beside her pack and treated the darker ones with care. With an armful of dark metallic rocks, she returned to the debris that blocked the tunnel, and carefully stacked them into a pile. She then returned up the tunnel to collect more rocks.

After a half-hour of repeating this process, she had built a sizeable pile at the end of the tunnel, stacked against the dead end. Lyra then collected some chunks of gold and stuffed them into her pack before carrying the pack back to the cavern with the pool. She set the pack down and returned down the tunnel with a single stone gripped in her palm – a stone made of the dark metal.

The blue light faded behind her, leaving only the jar she held to light the way. When the cracks of daylight appeared ahead, she stopped. Her pulse began to pound and anxiety swirled inside, making her stomach queasy. She bit her lip and cocked her arm back. A long slow breath blew through pursed lips as she exhaled. Focused on the pile of rock she had built, Lyra threw the stone, turned, and bolted in the opposite direction.

She made it three steps before light flared behind her. A half step later, the concussion of the blast blew her forward, causing her to stumble face-first into the rivulet of water. The ground shook, and debris rained from the ceiling. Lyra pushed herself up to her hands and knees, surprised to find that she still held the jar in one hand. Her face and vest were wet. She shook her head and used her free hand to clear away the dust that had settled in her hair. With an odd mixture of hope and fear, she slowly turned around.

Daylight seeped into the tunnel, a beacon of salvation invading the former darkness.

Lyra scrambled to her feet and ran back to the cavern to grab her pack. Although it was heavier than before because of the rocks she had collected, she didn’t notice. Her hands and knees were scraped and bloody, but she didn’t notice. Lyra ran down the tunnel, toward daylight, toward freedom.

40

Lyra squinted at the shock of bright light, almost painful after leaving the dark confines of the caves. She stood in the shadow of a sheer cliff, the morning sun yet to breach its defense. The cliff terminated the end of a canyon, enveloped by steep hills to the north and south. Other than the rubble caused by a small landslide, the surrounding area was flat and barren, without a plant, human, or animal in sight. Having no other option, Lyra headed west, toward the mouth of the canyon.

When the ridgeline to her left ended, she turned south. At some point, she would reach a road or the sea. Either way, at least she would have a better idea of where she was.

Needing her food to last until she reached Wayport, she forced herself to walk for