Rogue Legacy - Jeffrey L. Kohanek (dark academia books to read TXT) 📗

Lyra stared at the boulder, so black that it swallowed the mid-morning sunlight, appearing even more dull that the gray ashes surrounding it. Those ashes were all that remained of the two Tantarri and the dead tree. While not a grave as Lyra was accustomed, she found the blackened rock an ominous marker of another nature.

She turned toward Cal and Garrett, the former having just finished relaying recent events to the latter. Despite the outlandish nature of Cal’s tale, Garrett merely nodded. While Lyra had become accustomed to Cal’s magic, his abilities still surprised her. Yet, Captain Pularus behaved as if the use of magic was as common as breathing.

Garrett’s gaze turned west, toward the narrow ravine. “So, you believe they took this trail inland?”

Cal nodded. “Yes. They camped up there,” he pointed to the spot where he and Lyra had camped just two nights earlier. “And I found evidence that the trail beyond the campsite had been recently used.”

“In that case, lead the way.” Garrett nodded. “It sounds like we have little time.”

Cal turned and led them down the floor of the ravine, following the dirt trail worn in the grass and weeds. Lyra glanced backward one last time, toward the shiny black rock as she said a brief prayer to La-Mordai, hopeful that the two men found peace in death.

As they walked, Lyra found herself measuring the man Tallinor had assigned as their escort. Cal had refused to take more than a single soldier, stating that any show of force would lead to a fight they could not win.

Despite obvious misgivings, Tallinor assigned his best swordsman to accompany Cal and Lyra. That man was Garrett Pularus.

Taller than an average man and sporting an athletic physique, Pularus appeared to know how to handle himself in a fight. Dark curly hair and a fierce brow lent a noticeable weight to Garrett’s stoic manner, which Lyra found as a stark contrast to Cal’s flippant nature.

Lyra’s gaze fell to the sword at Garrett’s hip, swaying in time with his steps. She smiled, recalling the expression on Cal’s face when he had handed the sword to the man, as if he were being relieved of an immense burden.

Garrett stopped and turned toward Lyra, his brown eyes meeting hers. “Are you sure I can’t carry that for you? It’s not right for a girl…a woman…such as yourself to bear the weight of our supplies.”

Lyra’s brow shot up. “Are you suggesting that a girl cannot do what a boy can do? Am I some delicate flower?”

Garrett opened his mouth, preparing a reply.

“You’re asking for trouble, Captain.” Cal said as he glanced backward, not slowing.

“I just…” Garrett stammered.

“Think I’m not capable?” Lyra asked, hoping that Cal wouldn’t reveal the nature of the floating pack.

Garrett’s lips pressed together. “Fine. You can carry the pack.”

“You just worry about yourself. If I need anything, I’ll let you know.”

Lyra adjusted the pack, causing the lute on her back to shift slightly as she passed Garrett and followed Cal down the trail.

Within the first hour, the trail turned and angled south, following a valley floor with hills rising up to the east and the west. With the sun directly overhead, Lyra found herself torn between covering herself to block the direct sunlight and removing layers to cool herself. Rather than stopping to eat, she pulled trail rations from the pack to share with Cal and Garrett as they continued walking. At some point in the late afternoon, the trail turned west again, rising toward a saddle that straddled two mountains.

With her feet already sore, Lyra’s thighs soon burned from the incline as the trail meandered up the wooded hillside. She refused to complain or even allow a single groan, unwilling to give Garrett the satisfaction. I should have let him carry the stupid pack. The sun was low in the sky by the time they crested the saddle, and they caught their first glimpse of what lay to the west.

Another line of peaks, covered with pines and leaf trees, stood opposite from them, hovering over the narrow valley. Beyond those peaks, hilltops and ridgelines covered the countryside until the land reached the distant ocean, which appeared like a bright strip at the horizon.

Lyra’s gaze shifted closer and followed the opposing hillside downward. Upon the valley floor, she found an open meadow occupied by tents and wagons. Men in small groups crossed the area, some heading toward the dark opening of a cave cut into a cliffside to the south.

“We’ve found them.” Cal’s voice sounded somber. “May Issal watch over us.”

“How many did you say they have?” Garrett asked.

“Thousands, I’m told.”

Garrett grunted. “Not enough tents for thousands. Hundreds, yes. Thousands no.” He pointed toward the south end of the valley. “That cave is either massive, or there aren’t that many here.”

“Night is almost upon us. Let’s climb down while some light remains.” Cal continued down the trail, leading them toward the waiting army.