The Tales of the Wanderer Volume One: A Book of Underrealm (The Underrealm Volumes 4)

by Garrett Robinson

  No one saw me as I snuck out of the stronghold, but my heart did not ease as I made it into the city. All the guards knew me, and even if I pulled my cowl down over my face, my clothing was too fine for them to think I was simply some passerby. And it was night, besides—no one wandering the streets in the moonslight would pass without suspicion.

  Thus I tried to remain alert, watching in all directions for anyone approaching me. But it was hard. My head was still heavy with the wine I had drunk. I know I stumbled, I know I crashed into at least a few buildings as I lurched through the streets. I barely remember any of that. The next clear memory I have is of approaching the city’s north gate. I stood there for a moment, trying to think how I could get through.

  Then there came shouts, and the gate swung open. A party of rangers on foot came through from the outside—returning from patrol, I guessed. Whatever the case, I seized my opportunity. As soon as the gateway stood empty, I ran towards it. I tripped at the last moment, but I fell to the ground outside just as the gate slammed shut.

  My escape had not gone unnoticed. A cry went up, and they labored to open the gate again. I scrambled to my feet and ran. It was not long before I heard them behind me—many voices, shouting in the darkness, hunting for me by moonslight. But that was dim and fey, for rain was falling, and the thick clouds in the sky obscured everything. Despite my drunken state, I was able to keep my distance from my pursuers because I knew the land so well.

  My feet carried me north on the same road Mag and I would travel all those years later, searching for the weremage. And they brought me to the bridge. But as I came to the place, the clouds obscured the moons completely, and everything went almost pitch black.

  I crashed into someone, and we both fell to the ground.

  At first I panicked, thinking one of my pursuers had caught me. But then I realized the person had been in front of me. They had just crossed the bridge from the other direction. They were making for the city.

  The clouds parted for a moment, and in the flash of moonslight I saw a face. But it swam in the darkness and my own drunkenness. All I could focus on was the black cloak, trimmed with red. The colors of my family.

  I screamed and backed away on hands and knees.

  Because, you see, I knew about the shelf by the end of the bridge.

  I fell onto the shelf and crawled to the slope on the other side, pitching myself over. It was slick with rainwater, and I flew down it faster than a hawk diving upon its prey. My stomach lurched, and I vomited over the side, my sick splashing upon the valley floor far, far below. But at last I came to the end of the slide.

  For a long while I lay there, panting, heaving, feeling ill in both body and spirit. At last I looked back up the slide. The ranger must have seen me. But whoever they were, they had not followed. They had to have recognized me. Yet they had not followed.

  I thought that mayhap they had cracked their head when I knocked them over. That they had been knocked senseless, unable to understand what they had seen, unable to call the other guards and point them in my direction.

  I thought about them fairly often over the next few months. I hoped they were all right. I thought they must have been; we had not struck each other all that hard. But then how had I escaped? It made no sense.

  Do you understand, Sun?

  You will.

  The rangers rounded us up and walked us back to Kahaunga, positioning us in their midst. They did, however, show us the courtesy of fetching our horses, when we told them they were a little farther up the road. For our part, we made no trouble for them on the way back to Kahaunga. Oku followed faithfully at our heels, seemingly unconcerned by the new company we kept.

  As we went, the captain questioned us, asking where we had taken lodgings and where she might find the old man we had come to Kahaunga with. I barely heard her, and so Mag answered. They went to the place, and one of the rangers went inside to fetch Dryleaf. He emerged with a bemused expression, his hand on the guard’s arm.

  “Are you there, Kanohari? Chao?” he said.

  “Here, Dryleaf,” said Mag.

  “Ah, good. Your plan of secrecy and stealth has gone swimmingly, I see.”

  Mag stuck her tongue out and blew at him. Dryleaf smiled.

  “Well, I am told the Rangatira requires an audience. We should be honored.”

  Mag laughed, and even one or two of our guards gave a brief chuckle before biting it off. Dryleaf flashed them all a smile and went to take Mag’s arm for guidance. Before we left, Mag looked down at Oku.

  “Oku, kip,” she said sternly.

  The hound cocked his head at her, and a low whine issued from his throat.

  “Do as she says, boy,” said Dryleaf.

  Oku lay down in front of the inn. But he did not take his eyes off us, even as we set off down the street and out of sight.

  Our captors led us through the city towards my family’s stronghold. I found myself unable to speak, unable to do much more than stew in terror at what lay before us. We were being brought to see my mother. Would she recognize me? Could she? I had not had my wending when I left, and many years had passed since then. But still, she would have to know my face. I was her child.

  Then I realized how little that had ever seemed to mean to her, and I felt even worse.

  The stronghold gates swung open as we approached, and the rangers led us inside. The captain ordered most of them away, bringing only three with her as she escorted us into the stronghold. Memories struck me like a fell wind as I stepped through the door, leaving my knees weak. Mag saw it, and she put a hand on my shoulder to steady me.

  “Easy,” she murmured. “We will all be fine. Let me do the talking.”

  “Gladly,” I said, my voice weak. I pulled up my hood and dragged it down low over my face.

  The captain stopped us before the huge doors leading into my mother’s audience chamber. There she left us with the other rangers while she ducked inside. Our guards removed our bindings. I stood stock still as they did it, staring at my own hands.

  “What happened?” said Dryleaf quietly.

  “The weremage was following us,” said Mag. “We almost ran her down, but our friends here came upon us and mistook our intent.”

  The rangers gave her a sidelong look, but they remained silent.

  “How unfortunate,” said Dryleaf with a sigh. “Well, hopefully the Rangatira will understand.”

  My limbs had begun to shake. My mother, being understanding? It was more than I could imagine.

  Another moment’s silence stretched. Then Dryleaf cocked his head.

  “You said she was following you. The two of you did not track her down?”

  “No,” said Mag.

  “So she knew we were here.”

  A cold dread came over me. She had known we were here. It was too far-fetched to assume that she and the other Shade had simply stumbled upon us in the mountains.

  “She … must have seen us when we arrived to Kahaunga,” said Mag, though her voice was tinged with doubt. “It is not as though she—”

  “—led us here,” I said. “She led us here.”

  Dryleaf gave a grim nod. “You have been given quite a trail of breadcrumbs.”

  “What, since Opara?” said Mag. “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Mayhap even earlier,” I said. “Always we have gained one piece of information at a time—never enough to bring her down, but only to lead us to the next step in the road.”

  “But that was true in Northwood,” said Mag. “Are you saying that in the mountains, and in Lan Shui, she …”

  And then she, too, fell to silence. But where I was now wracked with fear and confusion, I saw a burning rage rise in her eyes. Her fists clenched, knuckles turning white.

  “But that begs a question,” said Dryleaf. “Why? Why all this? You do not even know her name, Mag. What grudge could she bear you that would be worth all this?”

  “Only one answer matters to me,” snapped Mag. “The
same I have sought since the beginning: her head on the end of my spear.”

  In front of us, the chamber door creaked open. The ranger captain stepped out.

  “Follow me.”

  I steeled myself, following Mag and Dryleaf into the chamber. I remained behind them, forcing myself to stay as calm as I could. Mag would do the talking. Mother would hardly even glimpse my face. She was never interested in visitors, unless she thought they were of some value to her. She would never notice an attendant in the back.

  The door closed behind us. I risked a glance up at the dais from beneath my cowl.

  I froze.

  The room was just as I remembered it, long and wide with a high ceiling. The walls had a series of short windows near the top, impossible for anyone to climb in, just enough to provide some ventilation for the fires that burned in two hearths. The stone pillars running up both sides of the room were of gleaming white limestone, while grey limestone made up the floor. But that grey was now covered with many rugs, which had not been the case in my youth. I saw the furs of bears and mountain cats, but also of creatures from more distant foreign lands. They were well swept and clean, and they made a soft surface for us to walk upon as we approached my mother’s dais.

  But the woman in the chair was not my mother.

  Oh, she had the same sharp chin, the same piercing eyes, the same wide nose. She even wore her hair in tight braids bound up close to her scalp, as my mother had. But she was much younger than my mother. Only a few years older than me.

  I looked into the face of my middle sister, Ditra.

  This was such a shock to me that it was a good long while before I noticed anything else about the room. When I did, it was only to see that there were a few guards posted along the walls, and that just behind Ditra’s chair was a young man wearing the Telfer family colors, as well as a badge of my family’s symbol made of gold. Her lead ranger. I did not recognize him, but I remembered Tuhin’s words back in Opara: his name was Maia.

  My gaze was pulled back to the center of the dais, back to my sister sitting in my mother’s chair, wearing my mother’s stern countenance, crowned with the silver circlet my mother had borne as her mark of office. It was like seeing my mother all over again, but younger, the way she had looked when I was but a child.

  In the end I realized I had been staring too long, and I ducked my head again. For her part, Ditra had not seemed to recognize me in the slightest. Mag and Dryleaf stood in front of me, and so she paid attention only to them, likely thinking me some sort of retainer or guard, and not an equal member of our little party.

  That, too, was very like our mother.

  Her lead ranger stepped forwards and raised a hand, causing us to stop a good five paces away from the dais. “You stand before Lord Ditra of the family Telfer, lord of Kahaunga, Rangatira of the domain of Tokana.”

  My sister tilted her head up slightly. “Well met, travelers,” she said. The words were courteous, even if her voice was steely. And suddenly her likeness to my mother was greatly diminished in my mind. Yes, she spoke in a stern tone, but that was my sister’s voice, a voice I knew better than any but Mag’s, a voice I treasured beyond anything else in my life.

  I ducked my head still lower, struggling to contain tears. I did not entirely succeed, and I had to pretend to scratch my cheek to wipe them away.

  We all bowed low with our fists to our foreheads. “Well met, Rangatira,” said Mag. She had given me a brief, confused glance when we entered the hall, but seeing my state, she had not looked at me again. “I am Chao, and this is Dryleaf. We are honored to stand in your presence.”

  “Kind words, coming from the mouth of one who has been found breaking the law in my domain,” said Ditra.

  “I have long had great respect for the family Telfer,” said Mag, “though it has been long since I was able to visit your noble dwelling. May I ask, where is the former lord, Thada of the family Telfer?”

  The chamber fell silent. The lead ranger frowned down at us, but more in confusion than anger, I thought. Ditra had gone rather still in her chair, and while she did not exactly scowl down at Mag, she looked even more solemn than she had a moment ago.

  “She passed into the darkness some time ago,” she said. “I find it hard to believe you could have met her, for you look as if you would have been very young when she died.”

  I felt as if the ground had tilted beneath my feet. I gripped the back of Dryleaf’s robes, holding him for support, trying not to come unmoored from the very ground. Dryleaf, for his part, tried to keep still, though I am afraid I may have put a great deal of weight on the poor man.

  “I am often told that I look younger than I am,” said Mag in a quiet voice. “I am sorry for your family’s loss. How did she die?”

  The lead ranger shifted again, but plainly in annoyance this time. Ditra, too, seemed angered by the question, and her lips drew tight.

  “I hope I do not offend,” said Mag quickly. “It is only … we had the chance to speak once. And I was young, as you said. It was a conversation I have never forgotten.”

  Ditra seemed to relent slightly at that, though she looked no more pleased. “She was riding in the mountains,” she said. “Feldemarians attacked and killed her. It was shortly after the death of my older sister.”

  I could scarcely withstand the storm of emotions now raging within me. And yet, somehow, I did withstand it. What I was feeling … it was happening, but I could not let it affect me. I could not let it show in my face. I could not let it reveal anything about me, or draw Ditra’s attention to me.

  I had been afraid of being recognized when I thought I would have to face my mother. Now I was terrified. And so I controlled myself, despite the agony it caused me. Emotion would be of no help. It would ruin everything. It would cause me to make a mistake, and that would endanger me and my friends. So I simply … did not permit the emotion to affect me. I removed it from myself, to a place where it could hold no sway over my actions.

  At that moment, I first began to understand Mag’s battle-trance. I could not allow my thoughts to control me, and so I simply … left. I put myself in another place, so that I could do what I had to do to survive. A part of myself was destroyed as I did it, like I had ripped myself in two. But it was the only way.

  And with that realization, the first seed of a question was planted in my mind. What had happened to Mag, long ago, that had made her feel this way for the first time? And how, when it was so agonizing to me, had she continued to use it, over and over again, until it became one of her hallmarks in battle?

  But all of this passed through my mind in a flash, the way these moments do, to be considered later. Meanwhile, Mag and Ditra continued their conversation.

  “No words can express my sorrow,” said Mag. “Though years have passed since your loss, I offer my deepest sympathy.”

  “I am comforted by your kind words,” said Ditra, who did not particularly sound as if she was. “But that is not why you stand before me. What are the three of you doing in my lands?”

  “We were sent north,” said Mag. “We serve Lord Matara.”

  Ditra frowned. “And what service are you providing him?”

  “He ordered us to hunt down a rogue weremage who had been plaguing his domain,” said Mag.

  “A rogue weremage,” said Ditra flatly. “And he did not give this matter to the Mystics?”

  Mag hesitated. Dryleaf cleared his throat, drawing Ditra’s attention. “Lord Telfer,” he said. “This matter concerns secret words that all the Calentin lords have recently heard from the High King’s Seat.”

  Ditra’s face betrayed nothing. But she turned and motioned towards Maia with two fingers. He waved to the guards stationed along the walls, and they slowly filed out of the room, closing the door behind them. Ditra turned back to us.

  “This concerns the Shades,” she said.

  “As we told your rangers in the mountains,” said Mag, “though mayhap we spoke in haste. The weremage we
are hunting—she is a Shade, and she is operating with others in the area.”

  “Why would Lord Matara not have sent word of this to me at once?” said Ditra. “And this does not explain why he would not take the matter to the Mystics. A rogue weremage falls under their jurisdiction, and even more so if she is a Shade.”

  “As for your first question, the Rangatira did not know the weremage would come here,” said Dryleaf. “Nor did we. We pursued her away from Opara and followed her trail through the kingdom, only arriving here yesterday. In hindsight, it would have been wise of us to come to you before we continued our chase. But we have been on a long trail, and we thought we saw its end within reach. As for your second question, the Mystics in Opara were notified. But they only recently discovered a cabal of Shades in the wilderness near their city, and they have been much preoccupied with rooting them out. They approved of the Rangatira’s request to let us handle this matter.”

  It was a brilliant stroke, all the more so because I knew Dryleaf had made it up on the spot. If Ditra tried to investigate the truth of his words, she would find that yes, a cadre of Shades had indeed been found outside of Opara. As for the Mystics, they would be reticent to give any information about matters concerning a rogue weremage, whether or not they had already heard of her.

  “You told my rangers something different when you entered the city,” said Ditra.

  “Because Lord Matara told us that we were not to speak of the Shades to anyone but another Rangatira,” said Mag. She nodded to Maia. “And those they trust, of course.”

  Ditra considered that for a long moment. I noticed Maia eyeing her out of the corner of his eye, though the man tried not to be obvious about it.

  “Why has this weremage come here?” said Ditra at last. “What are she and the other Shades planning?”

  “We are not certain,” said Mag. “But news has reached us of your recent trouble with the trolls. We think the Shades may have something to do with it.”

  “I think you know little of trolls,” said Ditra, arching an eyebrow, “if you think they have allowed themselves to be influenced by humans—Shades or otherwise. Trolls will treat with us, but they will only take advice and counsel from among their own.”