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

by Garrett Robinson

  Slowly, she paced over to her spear and pulled it out. Just as slowly, she returned and resumed her seat by the fire. I had sat up, tense for a moment, but now I began to relax again.

  “I understand, Mag,” I said quietly. “I am tired, too. And you, Dryleaf, may try to hide it, but I can see the weariness in your shoulders as well. So let us rest. Let us slow down, at least a little. We can stop our wandering, and see what we can learn about this civil war, if there is anything to learn.”

  “I cannot stop,” said Mag. “I cannot. I have to find her. I would hate myself if I stopped trying. And you said you would stay with me.”

  “Of course I did,” I said. “And I will. Always.”

  She looked away from me. “Then trust me. Searching for Loren now would be unwise. Sky above, she will not even kill in a fight. She would be little help in our hunt, and we would only endanger her if she joined it. It would be a waste of time, and we have wasted enough as it is.”

  I sighed. “All right, then, Mag. We will keep looking for Kaita. We … we can continue asking around about the Shades. They may have something to do with this civil war. If they do, they may be easier to find now.”

  Dryleaf had been listening to us silently, but now his head snapped up. Though his eyes were sightless, I could almost see a light in them.

  “There may be another way,” he said. “Loren is not the only ally we could seek. We could find others.”

  Mag arched an eyebrow. “And where do you mean to find them? I know few enough people in Dorsea. And if I do not want to spend a month searching fruitlessly for Loren, I certainly do not want to take the time for a tour of recruitment.”

  Dryleaf cracked a grin. “You will not recruit anyone. You will be recruited. That Mystic captain in Taitou. Kun, of the family Zhou. If anyone in the kingdom wishes to find and fight the Shades, it will be him. If we can ingratiate ourselves with him, we may learn something of our enemy’s whereabouts.”

  I had to admit that this idea appealed to me. We had been listless and wandering in Dorsea for far too long. And Victon always used to say that even a bad plan, carried out swiftly and with certainty, is better than no plan at all. I could think of worse things than allying ourselves with servants of the High King, Mystics though they might be.

  Mag, too, had a spark of excitement in her eyes. “It would certainly be better than our aimless wandering. But I do not know if that Kun fellow was as trusting as he appeared. I heard the smile in his voice, but I also heard a false tone in it, and something steely lying beneath.”

  “Yet he did offer to recruit us,” I said. “And we can prove our worth to him. Only a fool would refuse to have the Uncut Lady on their side of a battle.”

  Mag scowled. “They will not know about that ridiculous title, because you will not tell them.”

  I widened my eyes. “Of course not. I would never.”

  “Albern.”

  “Dearest Mag.”

  Dryleaf shook his head, wearing a little smile. “I can hear the eagerness in your voices so plainly, I can almost picture your faces. And I think Kun will be more than grateful to have you.”

  A reluctant smile pulled at the corner of Mag’s mouth. “Well, then. Let us try it. It has been a long time since we were sellswords.”

  “A long time indeed,” I said. “Let us get some good rest tonight, then. Tomorrow, we ride to join the war for Underrealm’s future.”

  “I can relate to your situation,” said Sun.

  “Oh?” said Albern, cocking his head. “How is that?”

  “Since meeting you, I have also found myself joining battles I did not expect,” she explained. “Though of course, you and I fight no great battles of nations. We are monster hunters, I suppose … and whatever one would call it when we stopped those brigands near Lan Shui.”

  “Do not so quickly discount your actions—or, for that matter, my own,” said Albern. “It is easier to see battles on a grand scale when looking through the lens of history. But a king’s army is nothing but a collection of people. In ones and twos they join the fight, and in ones and twos they die—or they fight until they cannot anymore. You hear of them as part of a greater whole. But it takes wisdom to see that one is always part of a greater whole, whether you fight to save your loved ones, or you are hunting vampires in the woods.”

  That was a disturbing thought to Sun. After a moment’s consideration, she thought she knew why. “But then, to what end? You say that you and I are rooting out evil, the way you and Mag did when you were younger. But if there is still evil today, is that not discouraging?”

  Albern only smiled. “Good folk always seek a permanent end to evil. That is … well, I will not say it cannot be done, but it never has been done. But, after fighting for a time, of course someone is entitled to some well-earned peace. This, too, comes to us in ones and twos. A woman like Duana leaves the army in her autumn years, starting the trade she has long desired to practice. A couple like Mag and Sten meet, and fall in love, and build a life together.”

  Sun’s voice grew hushed. “Yet evil found them in the end.”

  His expression dampened. “It did, at that. Because peace, like war, comes in ones and twos, and rarely to a whole nation, or the world. The world will never know peace. Not forever. But some people can. Doing good in your youth should, if fate is kind—which it sometimes is, despite appearances—let you enjoy a better world towards the end of your days. And that is no small thing to achieve.”

  Sun sighed, not entirely comforted. After all, Albern was close to the end of his days, and he did not live a peaceful life. But it seemed cruel to say so.

  They had neared Bertram’s southeast gate. Above them, the sky was now grey and hazy, the combined smoke from thousands of fires drifting up into the clean air. Here, the Bluewater and Blackwind rivers joined as they came leaping down out of the Greatrock Mountains to the east. Their mingled waters were called the Fangrong, and that great river ran to Dorsea’s western coast.

  Bertram had once been the capital of the kingdom, and it was easy to see the marks of that heritage in its bearing. The walls were among the tallest Sun had ever seen. Long, weighted banners by the gate bore a Dorsean longsword surrounded by a circle of stars, all yellow, on a red field. Over the walls, she could glimpse tall towers with the red tile roofs that were common across Dorsea, and balconies that surely gave a breathtaking view of the surrounding land.

  Where the twin rivers met the eastern wall, they churned through two river gates. As the day cooled, the waters threw a slight mist into the air that gave everything a pleasantly dreamy quality. All of it made the approach to Bertram feel like riding up to a place from an Elf-tale, something half-hidden in clouds of vapor and magic, all of which might vanish if Sun turned her back on it.

  But thoughts of her family would not leave her, and they spoiled the moment’s enchantment.

  Albern glanced at her from the corners of his eyes. “You seem nervous.”

  “Of course I am,” said Sun. “Soon, we will be in Bertram. If my parents will discover me anywhere, it is likely to be here.”

  Albern seemed to think about that for a moment. He was silent so long that Sun finally looked over at him. His brow had furrowed, and his lips pursed, like a man trying to find words for a strange feeling.

  “Out with it,” she said. “What are you thinking?”

  “I am trying to find a way to say what I mean without cruelty,” he said slowly. “I understand your fear, Sun. And yet, I think you place too much stock in it.”

  Her brows rose. “Oh? Do you see my caution as foolishness?” She tried to keep her words light, but they held a bitter undertone.

  “Not at all,” said Albern. “But it is unhealthy to let fear rule our lives.”

  Sun wanted to tell him that she was not frightened, that she was only trying to be prudent. But as she thought on it, she realized that he was right. She was afraid. The thought of being dragged back into her old life—and the consequences she
might face from her parents—was worse than she wished to contemplate.

  She gritted her teeth. “I do not think the two of us can withstand my family’s guards if they try to recover me.”

  “Yet we do not know if they will even find us,” said Albern. “And we might ask others for assistance, if it should come to that. I have many friends in the city. And aside from that … well.” His face broke into a broad grin, so pure that Sun felt her fear diminish. “I think you will greatly enjoy yourself here. Indeed, Sun, I think you will be reluctant to leave Bertram once we are done.”

  Sun snorted. “Of all you have said, I find that hardest to believe.”

  “Stories and belief.”

  They stopped talking as they reached the gate. It was open wide enough for several people to pass through abreast. But two guards with spears flanked the entrance, and they held up their hands in challenge.

  “You there,” said one. He was a squint-eyed man with bristling black hair and a beard to match. “Business in the city?”

  “I have some friends to see,” said Albern. “Nothing terribly exciting. I am afraid we are only simple travelers.”

  “Oh, we know you well enough, old man,” spat the other guard, a thin woman with a jutting chin. “Rarely could your travels be called simple, and I suspect the same could be said for your aims in Bertram.”

  Albern leaned forwards in his saddle, eyes narrowing. “Ah, of course. Beilin, is it not? It is a long time since I saw you last.”

  Beilin spat. The gob of it hit the ground a few hands away from Albern’s horse. “Some might say not long enough.”

  Sun stared flabbergasted at the guards. All her own concerns with Bertram fled her, and she could not hold her tongue. “I am a new traveler to Dorsea, but I am shocked to see such dearth of hospitality,” she said hotly. “You claim to know this man, but I call that a lie. If you were aware of half the deeds he has done in his life—deeds that directly served this land and your laws, I might add–you would throw your gates wide before him and summon an honor guard to escort him through your streets.”

  Now it was the guards’ turn to look shocked. But before they could reply, Albern lifted his hand. A sudden fit of giggling had taken him, and he could barely restrain it. His face had gone red, and his eyes watered as his chest jerked with silent laughter.

  “Friends, please,” he choked out. “There is no need for such posturing on my account. Beilin, you and your companion are welcome to search our things. We have nothing to hide from two upstanding servants of Dorsea’s laws.”

  Sun stared at him. “But they—”

  “They are only doing their best to protect their home,” said Albern, still chuckling. “That is their duty. You and I know our intentions in Bertram, and they are not dishonorable. Why, then, should we fear for anyone to question us?”

  Sun, in fact, knew nothing of Albern’s intentions here, but she was wise enough not to say so. The guards had subsided after their indignation towards Sun. Beilin turned and spat again.

  “Get your dark-damned selves in,” she said in a disgruntled tone. “But you had best not set one foot out of line, either of you. Rest assured that we will watch you while you are here.”

  “You always do,” said Albern. “We thank you for your service. And send my regards to Captain Stockton, if he still serves the city. It has been long since he and I have spoken over cups, and I might take the opportunity while I am here.”

  The guards pointedly ignored him, having already moved on to the next in line who wished to enter the gate. Albern and Sun walked their horses through, and then they were in Bertram.

  Sun found a smile leaping to her face at the noise of it, the smell, the bustle and the chaos all around. She had always been enamored of a city’s frenzy. The press of people went about their lives, each of them caring only for their own affairs and not a whit for those around them. Yet there was an identity to a city. A shopkeeper might not know the tanner she passed in the street, but if an outsider insulted their home, they would unite in an instant against the offender. And as soon as the fight had finished, each would likely forget the other’s existence again.

  It should have been alienating, but Sun had always found it comforting. Back home, cities gave her a rare chance to feel normal, and in them, no one gave her undue attention because of her birth.

  She forced her mind back to the present. “It was clever of you to mention the guard captain,” she told Albern. “But I still think you should have boxed their ears for the way they spoke to you.”

  “I spoke the truth,” said Albern. “They were only doing their jobs. I have no doubt the King’s law will be keeping a close eye on me while I am in Bertram, but I have grown accustomed to it, and it no longer bothers me.”

  Sun frowned. “Would that I had your calm.”

  Her mind drifted back to her parents, and the street seemed to narrow around her. She hunched her shoulders and pulled up the hood of her cloak, wary of being recognized. Albern saw it, and his smile weakened.

  “Ah, yes,” he said. “I did not mean to call your mind back to troubling matters. But come. Your hood is up, and I doubt they are looking for me. I will continue the tale to keep you distracted while I tend to my business. I mean to introduce you to an old friend—one who owes me quite a bit of coin.”

  The next day, we left the lands around Huzen and made for Taitou, where we had met Kun and his Mystics. We pressed the horses hard and reached the east gate the next day.

  We were not surprised to find it even more heavily guarded than last time. Four Mystics stood watch, instead of the two we had encountered before. As we stopped before the gate, one of the Mystics hailed us with a shout. He was an imposing, older man with a frankly magnificent mustache.

  “Who are you, and what business have you in Taitou?” he asked in a gruff bark.

  “We are friends to the King’s law!” I said. “When last we were here, we spoke to your captain, an honorable man named Kun of the family Zhou. We would speak with him again.”

  The Mystics looked at each other, and then the older one spoke again. “You would, would you? And why would he speak with you?”

  Dryleaf spoke then, in the clarion voice of a bard. He was so often soft-spoken that it was easy to forget the power of his oratory. I would not have been surprised to hear him project his voice through a stone wall two paces thick.

  “We can only imagine the burden upon Captain Zhou, now that Dorsea is in open war,” he called up. “But we have come to lessen that burden. We are all servants of the High King, and her peace is threatened across Underrealm. Kun knows my stalwart companions are fighters. Tell him they have returned and wish to join him, and I promise that you will have done your captain a great boon.”

  That gave them pause. After a moment, the older Mystic turned to one of the constables and said something we could not hear. The constable darted off out of sight behind the wall, and the Mystic turned back to us.

  “Very well,” he called down. “I have sent word, and on your head be it if you waste the captain’s time. In the meanwhile, come into the guardhouse. It is too damnably cold and wet out here, and you look as though you have ridden a hard road.”

  “Sky bless your courtesy,” I replied.

  They raised the gate for us to lead the horses through, and we hitched them to a post before stepping into the guardhouse. The gruff old Mystic joined us there by the fire while Mag led Dryleaf to a chair. Oku padded around the room, sniffing at everyone’s boots. The constables tried to look stern, but I saw them scratch him behind the ears when they thought no one else would notice. The gruff old Mystic even crouched down and pulled a bit of dried meat from a belt pouch to feed him.

  “Whence have you come?” he asked us as he stroked Oku’s fur. “Have you any news of the civil war?”

  “We rode straight from Huzen,” I told him. “Fighting broke out in the town. The mayor there is loyal to King Jun. Loyalists battle Wojin’s forces in the streets.”r />
  He gave a heavy sigh and stood. “The tale is the same in many places. Here, though, it is the reverse. I have heard our mayor is in Wojin’s pocket, but he has a garrison of Mystics within his walls. He cannot declare for the false king while we have a sword to his throat, as it were.”

  Dryleaf clucked his tongue. “But that seems precarious for you, if he were to receive reinforcements. Is it safe to remain here?”

  The man shrugged. “No one dons the red cloak for safety. Service to Her Majesty is all I desire.”

  “And a grand service you provide, I am sure,” said Dryleaf. He grasped at empty air until the man took his hand. “I am called Dryleaf.”

  The man shook his hand firmly. “I am Gang of the family Hua, and you are too kind.” His gaze turned to Mag and me. “Who might the two of you be?”

  “This is Chao, and I am Kanohari.”

  “And you are here to join the militia?” he asked.

  Mag and I gave each other a glance. It seemed Kun had already begun assembling a force here in Taitou. That would make it easier to join him, or so I hoped.

  Before we could answer Gang, the door to the guardhouse opened. In stepped Kun, followed by two Mystics in cloaks with their hoods drawn up. Kun wore the same unquenchable smile as when we had seen him last.

  “Sky above and dark below,” he chirped. “I had not thought to see the three of you again so soon.”

  I matched his smile with one of my own. “But you did expect to see us. I suppose you understood things better than we did when you asked us to join the High King’s fight.”

  “I have a gift for understanding things,” he said. “And yet, I am eager to gain greater knowledge of the three of you, who have returned from your search for your friend. I confess that I am most curious as to why.”

  “We have reconsidered your offer,” said Mag. “We wish to join your fight against the Shades.”