“Very well, Sergeant,” called Kun. “But while I can sympathize with the impulse to put yourself on the front line, you do yourself no favors by disobeying my orders.”
“My apologies, ser,” called Mag. “I will not do so again.”
“I wonder if I can believe that,” muttered Kun
We began to filter into the tunnel. My squadron went first, as Kun had planned. I dropped into the tunnel beside Mag before my archers, and in the brief private moment we had, I fixed her with a look.
“Mag, you have to stop,” I told her. “I know you feel guilty, and I understand. But you will not get yourself killed trying to make things right. Do you understand me? I will not have it. If you cannot think of your own safety, at least think of me, and of Dryleaf.”
“I am thinking of you,” said Mag. “Do not worry about me.”
I shook my head. “Do not give me a reason to.”
Then Jian dropped into the tunnel next to us, and I had to bite my tongue. I waited until all my archers were inside, and then we waited a moment longer until Mag’s swordfighters had followed. Our squadrons would press down the tunnel, but not too quickly, while the rest of the army trickled in behind us.
Hallan walked near the front, torch in hand. No one else in my squadron held a torch, and Mag’s unit hung well back with their torchbearer, so we had only scant light to go by. But that seemed better than giving the enemy many targets to fire at in the darkness.
That long, slow advance down the tunnel was one of the most nerve-wracking experiences I have ever had. It was not like the anticipation of any everyday battle. We knew they were ahead of us, lurking in that darkness. They could not help but see us—we had a torch. Yet we had no choice but to advance straight towards them, helpless in the dark.
We had no grand strategy, not like Kun had devised before. There was no room for it. This would be brutal, messy, and violent. We would fight and die in darkness, in the flash of torchlight glinting off blood-soaked blades. It would be a hard task to clear the Shades from this place, especially if the brute woman took the fore. If that happened, we would have little choice but to pit Mag against her and pray to a sky we could no longer see.
Yet there was no sign of our enemy. We were close now to the great cavern. But no arrows came hissing out of the darkness to fall among us.
When I guessed we were a span away from the large cavern, I stopped. Something about this felt wrong. The Shades would gain no benefit from fighting us in the vast space ahead. It would have made far more sense for them to fight us here in the tunnel, funneling us into a small space. As I sat there in the dark, pondering the mystery, Mag crept up, and not far behind her came Lieutenant Tou and Captain Kun.
“What is it?” said Mag.
“The cavern is up ahead,” I said. “Yet there is no sign of them. I cannot read the tale of it.”
“Mayhap they are trying to hide,” said Tou. His anger at Mag and me was forgotten for the coming battle—or at least he had put the anger away on a shelf in his mind, to be retrieved later. “Mayhap they have holed up deeper in the cave, hoping that we will think they have left.”
“I do not think so,” I said slowly. “I would call that foolish, and nothing they have done so far has shown foolishness on their part.”
“What do you think, then?” said Kun.
“Mayhap they have set an ambush inside the entrance,” said Mag. “They left the tunnel open so that we would think the danger was gone, or at least so that we might grow lax in our caution. They hope we will press into the cavern with speed, and they can strike us from the sides when we are in an open space.”
“That could be,” said Kun. “Very well. Sergeant, take your squadron forwards. Proceed into the cavern cautiously, and keep a shield wall up around you. If they hope to catch us unawares, we must endeavor to disappoint them.”
“Why not let me go in alone?” said Mag. “I will provoke as much of a reaction as my whole squadron, and there is no reason to risk more lives unnecessarily.”
“Do not be a fool,” I snapped. “Mag, even you cannot guard all sides of you at the same time.”
“You know how fast I am,” said Mag. “If they start to fire upon me, I will retreat into the—”
“Enough,” said Kun. “Albern is correct. Take your squadron, Mag. Be careful, and if they fire upon you, retreat.”
A moment passed, with Mag’s jaw working furiously. “Yes, Captain.”
She set off, leading her squadron down the tunnel towards the entrance to the cavern. My archers and I followed behind, all of us with arrows nocked.
Dibu held the torch in Mag’s squadron. The others surrounded him with their shields turned outwards, so that the group of them edged into the cavern like an exceptionally watchful turtle. I tensed, expecting a hail of arrows to fall among them. But no attack came.
A long moment passed as Mag kept leading them farther out into the space. But it was, indeed, empty.
Chills began to creep paths down my spine. I shook them off and pushed into the cavern to join Mag.
“Where in the dark below did they go?” she growled.
“An apt choice of words,” I said. “Hallan, give me that torch. I need to have a look around.”
I took it and went to inspect the place where the Shades had built their camp. There was a great deal of detritus around, small pieces of cloth that must once have held food, as well as some bones and other scraps from finished meals. But there were no tents, no bedrolls, nothing but a few smoldering remnants of the campfires they had managed to build from dung.
“They left,” I said quietly. “But where could …?”
Quickly now, I moved to the wall and began circling the perimeter of the cave. Very soon, I found what Kaita had already seen—three other tunnels leading out of the main cavern. I paused at the southern one. There I saw the smooth stone floor streaked with many muddy boot prints. The Shades had left this way.
I ran back to the center of the cavern. Kun was there now with Mag, and more than a hundred of our soldiers had filtered into the cavern behind him. The captain’s smile had grown very, very dangerous.
“Ser,” I said. He turned his gaze upon me. “The Shades left through another tunnel, this one leading to the south. Either they found an exit that way, or they took it and hoped they would find one. Either way …”
The captain nodded. “Yes, Sergeant,” he said. “It seems we have little choice but to chase them even farther into the darkness. Your archers will take point again. Forwards!”
We advanced into the tunnel. But this time, I moved with more speed. I was not as afraid they would turn and try to fight us in the tunnel—if that had been their plan, they would simply have done so at the entrance. No, I suspected they were making for an exit with all speed. But they would still be hampered by their wounded. We could come upon them in the open and cut them down as they fled. We only had to press a little farther, a little faster, a little deeper into the darkness.
The passage twisted, it turned, it climbed. Once, we had to put our weapons away and haul ourselves hand over hand up a short rock wall. The cold of the outside world was long forgotten, and I bemoaned my heavy winter cloak that was now soaked with sweat instead of rainwater.
I could see the footsteps plainly in the torchlight. They began to look more hurried, as though the Shades had started to run through the darkness. And then I felt it—a cool breeze wafting towards us. The icy air of the outside world once again kissed my skin, giving relief against the heat.
“Captain!” I called out down the tunnel behind me. “An exit!”
And then the breeze came again, carrying other things this time.
To my nose, the scent of burning. And to my ears, the sound of screams.
My heart nearly stopped.
No, I thought. Sky above, no. Please.
The moment he realized where we were, Captain Zhou pushed past me. He abandoned his Mystics, Mag and me, our squadrons, everyone. He ran out of
the cave entrance, scrambled over the boulders that hid it from view, and went sprinting into the destroyed remains of our camp.
“Zhen!” he cried out. “Report! Lieutenant Zhou! Nephew! Report!”
He did not hear the voice he sought. Instead, a Mystic knight appeared. Her left hand clutched her right shoulder, which was bleeding heavily. The arrow stuck out of both sides of the wound, and the woman gritted her teeth through the pain.
“Captain,” she gasped. “Thank the sky you—”
“Lieutenant Zhou,” snapped Kun. “Where is he?”
The knight went very still. “Captain. He …”
Kun pushed past her, ignoring her grunt of pain as he jostled her shoulder. He ran to the north end of camp, where Zhen’s company of soldiers had been.
Had been.
Nearly the entire force lay dead. Arrows had pierced them; axes had hewn them. The Shades had come out of the hills from the west, and they had found most of Zhen’s company still asleep. Our enemies had cut them down even as they struggled to emerge from their tents. Some were alive, moaning and crying out in the snow. Few of them would survive the night.
And there was Zhen.
He was near the front line, where the fighting had started. He had not slept after we left. He had meant to stand vigil through the night, waiting for his uncle and the rest of us to return. But then he had heard the sounds of fighting to the west, and he had raced towards them. Two new, much larger wounds now joined the angry scar on his cheek. A blade had pierced his throat, and an arrow stood straight up from his chest like a flagpole. His face was a battle-grimace, determined, resolute.
Doomed.
Kun fell to his knees. His hands shook as he held them out. His nephew, his sister-son, stared past him into the empty black sky, seeing nothing through those familiar eyes. Slowly Kun scooped him up, gripping the boy by the shoulders and pulling him into his lap. There he held him tight, taking off his own cloak to wrap around the boy, as if hoping to bring some warmth back to the rapidly-freezing skin.
Mag, Yue, and I had gone running through the camp like Kun. But we ran for the train, where we had last seen Dryleaf.
Everything was chaos. The Shades had slaughtered drivers, they had broken wagon wheels, they had spilled every store of food and drink into the snow.
The army’s very guts lay spread upon the ground. Losing Zhen’s company was a devastating blow, but the loss of the supply train was mayhap even more damaging. Kun would have none of the supplies he needed to carry on. The Shades had taken or destroyed nearly everything, everything but—
My heart melted with relief as I saw the blue silk coverings of the wagon from the Guild of Lovers. It was untouched. The Guild was protected, both by edicts of the High King and by laws older than Underrealm itself. After all, what use to kill lovers in war, when their rules keep them from taking sides in a conflict? I had not been sure the Shades would respect such boundaries. But they had, and the lovers favored Dryleaf. Mayhap …
We ran to the wagon. “Dryleaf!” I cried. I seized the flap and threw it open.
At once, I fell back, landing hard on my rear. Knives flashed at me out of the darkness, the light of campfires glinting off their steely edges. I scrambled up, holding my hands high, while Mag and Yue did the same. From inside the wagon came a great peal of barking.
“Hold!” cried Yue. “We mean no harm.”
Orla and Nikau saw us, and they lowered their knives. The other lovers took the cue and did the same, though they still watched us warily. Oku came bounding out of the wagon, whining and sniffing at my boots.
“Orla,” I said. “Dryleaf. Did he—”
“He is here,” she said, scooting aside. Nikau pulled back a blanket, and there was Dryleaf, cradled among the lovers.
I gasped, and Yue put a hand to her mouth. Dryleaf had taken a nasty blow to the head. They had wrapped bandages around it, but it was bleeding heavily, and the cloth was almost soaked through. The old man’s eyes were closed, and his breath came slow and labored.
Mag looked upon him, her whole body solid and unmoving as a rock.
“They took the camp by surprise,” said Nikau in his smooth, liquid voice. “The first we knew of the attack was when an arrow struck someone running by. As they died, they fell upon Dryleaf and knocked him to the ground. He hit his head on a log. As soon as Orla and I realized what was going on, we carried him into the wagon, and we have been here ever since. The attackers left us alone.”
“Thank the sky,” I said. “How long has he been asleep?”
“Not long,” said Orla quietly. She brushed her slim, pale fingers against his cheek. “He stayed awake a long while. We had some dreamwine, and we gave him as much as he could stomach to help with the pain of his wound. He ….” She fell to silence.
“He what?” snapped Mag. Orla recoiled, and Mag sighed and bent her head. “Forgive me. What were you going to say?”
“He kept asking for the three of you,” said Nikau. “He was afraid, and he kept asking us what was happening, but we did not know what to tell him.”
Orla began to weep.
Just then, Dryleaf stirred and started to come awake. His hands reached out, grasping. Nikau took one of his hands, and Orla clasped the other where it came to rest on her dress, stroking the back of his gnarled old fingers.
“Mag,” moaned Dryleaf. “Albern. Yue. Where are they?”
“We are here, Dryleaf,” I said. “We came back.”
Dryleaf burst into tears. “Oh, thank the sky,” he said, almost whispering. “Where are you? I cannot tell, your voices, they …” Tears took the rest of his words, and he shook in Nikau’s smoothly muscled arms.
I looked around at the lovers in the wagon. “May I—?”
“Of course,” said Nikau. He motioned for the rest of them to clear some space, and I clambered into the wagon at once. Yue followed more slowly, but then we were there, and Dryleaf clutched our hands, gripping us as if he wished never to let us go again. There was not enough room for her in the wagon, but Mag stood at the back, reaching in and holding Dryleaf’s leg so that he would know she was there as well.
“We came as soon as we realized what had happened,” I said softly. “I am so sorry we left.”
“I was afraid you had fallen,” said Dryleaf, holding tightly to my hand. “I thought they had killed you all before they came and attacked us. I could not tell where they had come from, not after I fell.”
“We are fine,” said Yue. “They fled from us and circled around to come after you, the cowards.”
Dryleaf said nothing, but only kept weeping, holding on to both of us. Yue looked up at the lovers.
“We can take him now,” she said. “Thank you.”
“Yes, thank you from the bottom of all our hearts,” I said. “Nothing we could do would ever repay you.”
“We would never let harm befall him,” said Nikau. “He is a treasure.”
“He is that,” I said.
Yue bent and scooped him up in her mighty arms. Careful as a mother holding her babe, she carried him out of the wagon, while Dryleaf clung to her. Mag moved woodenly out of the way. As Yue walked with Dryleaf to his tent, Mag stared at both of them, unmoving. With a final murmur of thanks, I left the lovers and went to her.
“Mag, this was not your fault,” I said.
“Oh?” said Mag. “You told me that in Northwood, and I knew it was true then. I do not think it is true now.”
“We could not know that Kaita had found a way to—”
“Of course we could have known,” said Mag. “Or we could have guessed, or prepared for the worst. We thought—no, I will stop hiding behind that coward’s lie—I thought she was mine for the taking. Like an animal I merely had to put down. I was so focused, so foolish, that I forgot she has a cunning mind and a will to match ours. I was the one who alerted the Shades to the fact that we knew where they were hiding. I led Kun’s force away from the camp. Dark below, Albern, I was the one who brought D
ryleaf on this fool’s errand, when he clearly has no place amid a war.”
A shiver passed through me. She had reminded me of something—a truth that now pressed itself upon me with an urgent, frantic need.
“Mag. We have to go.”
Yue had set Dryleaf down while she tried to recover what she could of his possessions. Now she looked up at me. “Go? What do you mean, go?”
“I mean leave,” I said. “We have to. We have no choice. Kun will blame us for this. And he will … he will be right to do so. But Mystic justice … I will not submit myself to that. Yue, I am so sorry.”
Yue shook her head—not in defiance, but slowly, like a bear trying to clear the cobwebs of winter after waking in the spring. “But I … but the law. The King’s law.”
“Please, Yue,” I begged. “Nothing you did tonight was evil enough to deserve what Kun will do to you. Please do not submit yourself to it.”
“Let me stay,” said Mag. “It was me. I pulled both of you along with me. I practically forced you to go. Let me stay. The three of you leave, and let me take the punishment.”
“No, Mag,” I snarled. “If you will use guilt to connive me into coming along on your schemes, then I will use guilt to force you to flee with me when they go awry. We promised, until the end of the road. You forced me into those caves on that promise. Now I will force you to flee because of it. If you stay, I stay. We run together, or not at all.”
Mag’s jaw set. But she would not consign Yue and me to death along with her, and I knew it. “Then get up,” she said sharply to Yue. “And bring Dryleaf. The longer we wait, the more time we give Kun to recover and come looking for us.”
Our horses, as well as Dryleaf’s, were with the Guild wagon. Yue changed Dryleaf’s bandage—I was relieved to see the bleeding had slowed—and then helped him to the wagon, where he said his good-byes. All the lovers gave him gentle words and soft touches of farewell, especially Nikau and Orla.
“Again, we thank you,” said Mag. “You are eternally in the favor of the Uncut Lady, and if you ever require my help in any matter, it is yours.”
The Tales of the Wanderer Volume One: A Book of Underrealm (The Underrealm Volumes 4) Page 82
