Rogue Legacy: Part I Page 8
As the material unwound from his prize, it began to take shape. About two feet long and wider at one end than the other, Lyra found the shape vaguely familiar. As he revealed the object, she found herself enthralled, eager to discover what Cal had purchased. When the cloth fell away, Lyra gasped.
Cal held it before him, grinning as he inspected the work of art. He pulled it to his chest and gave it a strum, the silky chords ringing about the room. Both Gilo and Striah lifted their heads, their ears perking up at the sound.
Extending his arms toward Lyra, Cal nodded.
“Here, Tali. This is for you.”
Lyra stared at the beautifully crafted instrument, torn between eagerness and hesitancy. “What? What is this for?”
He shrugged. “Your voice is so compelling; it deserves something beautiful to accompany it.” He looked down at the lute. “I found the most renowned instrument maker in Sol Polis and paid a handsome price for this beauty.”
He held the lute toward Lyra. She eyed it for a moment as emotion stirred within. Tentatively, she reached for it, gripping it with care as she brought it to her chest. The red tinted wood was polished, and the body of the lute was slightly bigger than her father’s, yet crafted by a far superior artisan. With fifteen strings set in eight courses, the design was immediately familiar to Lyra. One hand slid up the neck, while the other gave the strings one even strum. Lyra frowned and picked at the middle strings until she found the one that was out of tune. She continued to pluck at the string, twisting the tuning knob, until the note sounded exactly right. Taking a deep breath to clear her mind, she began to play.
With closed eyes, Lyra’s fingers danced across the frets while the other hand stroked the strings. The full body of the sound sang to Lyra’s soul, lifting her spirits like a bird on an updraft, soaring ever higher. She gave herself to the music and added her voice in a wordless aria. How long she played, she couldn’t tell, for she was lost to the music.
When she strummed the last note and opened her eyes, she found Cal staring at her, the wet tracks of tears glistening on his cheeks. Lyra lowered the lute and looked down at it, struggling to keep her emotions in check.
“Thank you, Cal.” She bit her lip, trying to keep her tears at bay. “I’ll cherish it always.”
“What?” Cal shook his head and wiped his eyes. “Oh. Sorry, but I need it back.”
“But…but I thought you gave it to me.”
“Don’t worry. The lute is yours to keep. I just need it for a bit. I need to add a little magic, magic to match your voice.”
Lyra reluctantly held the lute out. He accepted it and turned to retreat to his room, leaving Lyra by herself with the massive sack of food.
* * *
While the pack of dogs ate the sections of beef in the shade of the shed, Lyra crossed the yard to the well and turned the crank, the magic-infused winch rotating effortlessly as a full bucket of water rose to the top. She unhooked the bucket and emptied it into a nearby trough. After rehooking the bucket, she lowered it until it sank below the water and then again hoisted the full bucket to the top. This time, she poured a bit of water into a shallow pail and used the water and a bar of soap to scrub her hands. She dumped the remaining water into the trough as two dogs loped over to drink. With the dogs fed and their water refilled, she passed through the courtyard and into the house to check on dinner.
As she entered the kitchen, her stomach grumbled when the scent of baking bread greeted her. She slipped a pair of leather gloves on and opened the perpetually hot oven, removing the bread before setting it on the table. The strips of lean beef she tossed onto the iron stovetop quickly began to sizzle. While they cooked, she glanced toward Cal’s door and frowned in thought. Over an hour had passed since he had disappeared with the lute.
Crossing the room to open the coldbox, she removed a carafe of milk and a bowl of butter. After setting them on the table, she used a pair of tongs to rotate the beef strips. A minute later, she grabbed them with the tongs and set the beef strips on a plate. She opened the oven, grabbed the two sizzling potatoes, and set them on the plate with the beef as Cal’s door opened. He emerged with the lute in hand, appearing worn.
“Are you okay?”
He entered the kitchen and nodded. “I’m just a bit exhausted.”
Her brow furrowed. “What were you doing in there?”
Cal shrugged. “Magic things.” He held the lute toward her. “Here’s the lute, all finished. However, you need to be careful where and when you play it.”
She accepted the lute, her eyes flicking from the instrument to Cal. “Why do you say that?”
A grin spread across his face. “Because this lute is now a magical instrument.”
Lyra held it up and examined the back of the lute, finding three instances of the same symbol etched into the drum. “Does it have to do with these runes?” He nodded. “What will happen?”
“Others will feel the way I feel when I hear you play. I’m afraid it might do more than that, but I can’t be sure until you try it.” His focus shifted, the energy in his voice returning as he stared at the table. “It looks like dinner is ready. It smells wonderful, too.”
Cal rubbed his hands together and passed her on his way to the table. Lyra bit her lip and stared at the lute in her hands, unsure if she ever dare play it.
12
A scream pulled Lyra from her dream, and her eyes flashed open. She sat up, her heart racing.
Fumbling in the darkness, her fingers danced along the top of her nightstand until she found the cloth and pulled it aside. The glowing rock Cal had given her lit the room, the soft blue nimbus giving shape to her surroundings and chasing the shadows into the corners.
Another scream disturbed the silence and sent chills down her spine. Lyra slipped out of bed and gripped the doorknob. When she eased it open, she held the stone above her head and found the corridor empty, the doors open except the one to Cal’s room.
She crept down the corridor and peeked into the kitchen, finding it exactly as it was when she had gone to bed. Cal’s voice came from behind her in a series of unintelligible shouts. Lyra retreated to his room and put her hand on the doorknob. With trepidation, she pushed the door open.
Cal lay in his bed, alone in the room. He jerked and moaned, shifting his covers. Lyra approached his bedside and found his face damp with sweat, his breathing in gasps and fits. She put her hand on his shoulder and shook him.
His eyes shot open, and he bolted upright, gasping for air. The look on his face sent another chill down Lyra’s spine.
“It’s alright, Cal. It was just a dream.”
He turned toward her, his eyes meeting hers. “No.” He shook his head. “Not a dream. This was something more.”
Cal tossed his covers aside and climbed out of bed wearing only his smallclothes. He grabbed his trousers from a hook on the wall and began to dress. Having never seen him with his shirt off, Lyra found herself distracted by the ripples of his lean torso. She became aware of her own body, feeling self-conscious in her thin shift, and she turned around to return to her own room.
“I had a vision, Tali.” The tone of Cal’s voice stopped her mid-step. “A powerful vision of the future.”
She spun about to face him. “Like a…a prophecy?”
He nodded before slipping his tunic over his head. “Unlike any I’ve experienced before.”
“You’ve had them before?”
“Yes. However, they’re usually only about me, something small and about my own near future – like the one I had about you just before you tried to rob me.”
“You had one about me?”
Cal ignored the question, and he opened the top drawer of his desk. After removing his journal, a bottle of ink, and a pen, he walked toward Lyra, grabbed the glowing rock from her hand, and slipped past her into the hallway.
She followed him to the kitchen, where he sat at the table with the glowing rock resting beside his journal. He flipped through the pages
until he found the first blank page, tore the blank sheet out, and began writing.
“What is this about, Cal?” The screams that woke her flashed through her mind. “Is something bad going to happen?”
He stopped and stared at the paper for a moment before nodding. “You’re right. You deserve to know. It affects you, too.”
Lyra slid into a chair opposite from him, her attention fixed on his intense eyes.
“Something is coming, something I wasn’t quite able to discern in my vision. Whatever it was, it will be massive and terrible. They are going to use magic as a weapon, a weapon of the worst type. This magic will target people’s fear, rendering them powerless to fight it. More importantly, I must try and stop them.”
Lyra considered his cryptic words. “What are you going to do?”
Cal took a breath, releasing a long and deliberate exhale. “I must create a weapon to combat theirs.” He focused on the paper before him, the single sentence written on it now dry. “And, if this vision is true, we’ll also need a way to ferret out the lies. The truth cannot remain hidden or things might grow worse.”
“You keep saying they. Who are you referring to?”
Cal rubbed his eyes and sighed, seeming reluctant to respond. “I’m not sure, but I’m afraid that this vision is about The Hand. I’m afraid they are twisting my discoveries into something I never considered.” His voice fell to a whisper. “Something horrible.”
* * *
Lyra carried the bucket of meat and bones across the courtyard and out into the yard. She turned the corner and spotted the dogs resting in the shade of the outbuilding. A number of them saw her and stood, their tails wagging eagerly as she approached. Every dog now had black hair, even the white one Lyra had brought to the manor just two weeks earlier.
“Who wants breakfast?” she asked, causing the others to stir. The dogs clustered around her, sniffing and rubbing against her. Slowly upending the bucket, she dumped the contents out as she walked, leaving a trail of cooked beef, still on the bone. Once the bucket was empty, she glanced back at the dogs as she headed toward the house.
She paused and frowned. A quick count revealed eight dogs present, with Gilo and Striah both missing. Her focus shifted to the outbuilding where the dogs slept. She approached the single-room structure, its door standing open. As Lyra reached the doorway, the heavy scent of canine odor wafted from inside. Blinking, she waited for her eyes to adjust to the dark confines.
“Gilo? Striah? Are you in here?”
A growl rumbled from behind the door, the sound giving Lyra pause. Biting her lip, she leaned forward to peek around the door and found two sets of red eyes glowing from within the shadows. The growls grew louder and Lyra backed out the door and across the yard, not taking her eyes off the doorway until her back struck the manor wall. Lifting the skirt of her dress, she drew the dagger strapped to her thigh.
Lyra held still for a moment with the dagger pointed toward the dark doorway, but nothing emerged from the building. After glancing toward the other dogs, busily gnawing on the beef leg bones, she bolted around the house, darted across the courtyard, opened the door, and slammed it behind her. Panting, she leaned against the door and closed her eyes.
“What’s wrong with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Lyra opened her eyes, facing Cal as he stood beside the kitchen table, his fingers resting on his open journal.
“Something’s wrong with Gilo and Striah.” Lyra shivered again. “It almost seems like demons are inside them.”
“Don’t be silly,” Cal scoffed. “Demons don’t exist. Whatever it is, there must be a good explanation. Where are they?”
“They’re in the shed. I fed the others, but neither of them came out to eat. When I went in to find them, they growled at me and…their eyes…” She shivered.
Cal nodded. “I’ll go check on them. You stay here.”
As Cal left the building, Lyra sat at the table and set her knife beside the journal. Finding herself worried about Cal, she turned toward the door. Although he was able to use magic, she didn’t know how it might protect him. Her gaze returned to the table and the open journal, noticing a sketch depicting a rising sun and three symbols. Notes beside two of the symbols read Press to release hidden panel.
Wondering what the image and notes meant, she turned the page and found a drawing of a sword. The weapon had odd lines on the blade and a note that read Moving air makes it sing when swung. Another note pointed to a spot near the hilt and said etch rune here.
The door burst open and slammed closed with Cal leaning against it as Lyra had. His eyes met hers and he spoke between his gasps for air.
“Something is wrong with those dogs.”
Lyra grunted. “I’m glad you noticed. What do we do?”
Cal shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“What if this happens to the others?” Lyra asked.
Cal nodded. “My fears, exactly.”
13
A woman passed by, carrying a loaf of bread and a wrapped cut of meat. Lyra watched the woman until she turned at the next corner and disappeared. The street fell quiet, as if the city remained asleep despite it being mid-afternoon. An old woman walked past, Lyra’s eyes following her as she passed a young man heading in the opposite direction. The young man’s eyes met Lyra’s and a smile formed on his face. He altered his direction and approached her with his gaze focused on her body rather than her face.
“My, my. What’s a fine young lass doing all alone on a street corner in Sol Polis?”
With a thick frame, the man stood a full head taller than Lyra. While he was not unattractive, something in his gaze set her on edge.
“I’m minding my own business,” she waved him off. “You should move along and do the same.”
He put a hand on her shoulder and forced her back a step, the lute strapped to her back colliding with the brick wall.
“Since I like what I see, I think I’ll make you my business.” His gaze flicked down toward her chest. “I have a few coppers to spare and can make it worth your while.”
“Coppers?” She arched her brow, but kept a straight face as she considered how to access the knife hidden beneath her skirts. I miss my breeches.
His gaze ran down the length of her dress again and he shrugged. “Fine. I’ll pay a silver. But it better be good.”
“I’ll do one better.”
Lyra and the young man turned toward the voice to find Cal standing beside them.
“I’ll pay with this stone.” Cal held out his palm, revealing a small stone with a symbol drawn on it. Red sparks flickered and sparked within Cal’s eyes, dimming as the symbol on the stone flared with crimson light.
“What?” the tall stranger said as the glow receded. “How…”
The stone tumbled from Cal’s outstretched hand and landed on the other man’s foot. The stranger’s eyes grew wide, his mouth doing the same, although no sound came out. He gasped in rapid, shallow breaths. His body shook and a look of horror emerged when he looked down at his foot.
Lyra’s gaze followed his, and she discovered that the stone had flattened the man’s boot, creating a concave indentation where the rock lay. The man struggled to move, but his foot remained in place as if it were nailed to the ground.
“I’m sorry.” Cal patted the man on the shoulder. “Clumsy me. I’m all butterfingers sometimes.”
Cal gently gripped Lyra’s elbow. “Come along, Tali. We’ve an appointment to keep at the Citadel.”
Looking back at the man, Lyra found tears streaking down his cheeks as he tried to work his foot free.
Cal stopped a few strides away and turned back toward the man. “Kind sir, if you don’t mind me saying, you appear to be in a bit of pain. I suggest you visit the nearest temple to request a healer.”
He then turned and headed toward the heart of the city.
Lyra caught up to Cal, glancing at him as they walked side-by-side. “Why’d you do that?”
Lyra was about to state that she could take care of herself when Cal interrupted.
“I have no time for men who treat women like they are objects.”
Lyra’s response never left her lips. Considering his words, she again found herself surprised.
After a moment, she asked, “What did you do to him anyway?”
Cal grinned. “A small bit of magic. It should wear off in about an hour, and he’ll be free to go on his way, but the man’s foot will be a mess until he gets it healed.”
“You mentioned a healer. Is that like a Medicus?”
“Remember when you fell into my pit and I healed you?”
Lyra nodded, recalling the embarrassing and painful moment with clarity.
“There are others within the Ministry who perform that type of magic. He’ll likely find such a man at the nearest temple. Even after he’s healed, I hope he has learned a lesson.”
They reached the corner and the narrow street opened to reveal the Citadel. Cal led them to the gate and addressed the guard stationed there.
“I must meet with the Council about an urgent matter.”
The guard nodded and stepped aside to allow Cal and Lyra to enter. They crossed the empty plaza as Cal led them up the stairs and inside.
Without pausing, Cal led Lyra directly toward the same room they had visited last time, not seeing another soul other than the single guard who stood outside the door. The armored man stepped in their path, and Cal gave the man an even glare. The guard’s eyes shifted down and away, unwilling to meet Cal’s gaze as he stepped aside. With a grunt, Cal walked past and thrust the door open. Lyra found herself grinning as she followed him inside.