Magic Underground: The Complete Collection (Magic Underground Anthologies Book 4)

by Melinda Kucsera

  “—the way a song lifts the spirits—”

  “They had no singers.”

  “—the sweetness of candy—”

  “They didn't have that either.”

  A faint shadow appeared on the ground ahead of the king. He glanced up and glimpsed a shape soaring against a cloudless sky. The large bird that had roosted in the tree earlier, he decided. “Let's leave this matter for another time and focus on figuring out where we are and how we get to port. Perhaps James has gleaned clues from the flora and fauna.”

  “They didn't have much in the way of those,” griped Sir Maxwell.

  “The geography then,” Robin snapped. Reluctant to return to the ship with no better guidance to give the helmsman, he charged through the settlement at a pace that suggested he had a destination in mind.

  “Might I ask, Your Majesty, where we are going?” Sir Albert asked.

  “We're hoping to encounter other inhabitants, ones who might have a better idea of where they exist in the world,” Robin grunted.

  The number of edifices thinned. Fewer people milled about and he found himself blazing a new trail. He stopped so abruptly that the knights following him came close to colliding with his back.

  “Your Majesty?”

  “This wall, it's bowed. From where we stand it's convex, not concave.” Of the same color as the sand, the wall seemed to rise up from the earth. “Why would they build a wall that curved away from them instead of enveloping them? Perhaps there is something on the other side. The wall's architects. A different settlement perhaps and people who could help.” The wall had no windows, no parapet or other fortifications. It stretched to their left and right without a gate or a break of any kind in view. A tree would offer a vantage point but all that surrounded them was sand and the wall. “If there were a way through, or over ….”

  They moved closer to the wall. The only structure in view, the only way to uncover what lay on the other side was from its top.

  All eyes turned to Sir Maxwell.

  “What say you?” Robin asked. “Can you scale it?”

  The young knight scanned the wall and stroked its surface. “I see nothing to secure a rope to,” he muttered. “It's smooth. No chinks or anything to grip.” He turned to face Robin and the other knights, flexed his shoulders, and said. “Of course I can.”

  “Want a boost?” Sir Alan linked his hands together to form a cradle.

  “We could build a pyramid.” Sir Albert dropped to his hands and knees. He beckoned Sir Alan and Dame Deidre to join him.

  Sir Maxwell chewed his lower lip. After a few moments, he shrugged and said, “I think it best to make a run at it.” He took a rope from his pack and looped it around his waist. Handing off his pack to Dame Deidre, he jogged back several feet to give himself a running start. He tried and failed, falling flat on his rump. He tried and failed a second and third time.

  “Perhaps we should find another way,” Robin said.

  Sweating, the palms of his hands scraped and bloody, Sir Maxwell panted. “I can do this, Sire. Give me another chance. Ofan said only those with strong determination would acquire the treasure. I am determined.”

  “That's not what we meant. We brought shovels. Build a siege work such as we might use to scale a castle wall.”

  Sir Alan slapped his forehead and groaned, “Of course.” He and the other knights set to work mounding sand against the wall's base.

  Aided by the ramp, Sir Maxwell half-ran, half clawed up the wall. He neared the top edge and managed to get a grip and pull himself up to cheers from his cohorts below. Immediately he flattened himself on the rim. He peered over the side then turned and called down. “Your Majesty was right! There are people on this side.”

  The potential of a new source of information raised Robin's spirits. Within a few hours they would be underway. He breathed a sigh of relief. “Do you see a gate in this wall anywhere?”

  “I do not, Sire. The wall stretches to the right and left and then curves out of view with no gate in sight.”

  “People had to be able to gain access somehow.”

  “Perhaps they built the wall encircling them. To keep out the people we just met.”

  “And never leave?”

  “Maybe there's no reason to leave. Or nothing to leave for. Should I drop over to the other side and investigate?”

  Sir Albert turned to the king. “Alone? We have no idea what he will encounter. Stranded here on this side, should something happen to him, how would we know? No, we should join him and lend our eyes and ears, our swords if needed. Sire?”

  Robin had sent many a scout to reconnoiter potentially hostile territory but usually under the cover of night and with additional armaments. A lone young knight could be easily overwhelmed. “We agree, Sir Albert. We should all go, and stay close.”

  “As you wish, Sire.” Sir Maxwell let the rope drape down the side of the wall. “Dame Deidre, you are the lightest. You climb up first. Then we two can hold the rope for the others.”

  Dame Deidre raced up the sandy slope, jumped, grabbed the rope, and hoisted herself to the wall's rim.

  Sir Albert next made quick work of climbing the rope.

  Sir Alan peered up then turned to the king. “Sire, I wish to return to Here.” The knight's face was pinched. “I can't imagine those people don't know something that can help us.” He spat out the word “people” like an epithet. “By the time you return, if you have learned nothing on the other side, I will have coaxed the truth out of them.”

  “A man alone, Sir Alan? Did we not decide that would present unnecessary risks?”

  The knight held up his hands. “I will be … diplomatic. I will seek out someone other than Oneon. I suspect he had hidden motives for being so secretive. If I am unsuccessful I will return to this spot.”

  “Good luck then.”

  The knight bowed and struck off toward Here.

  Buoyed by the prospect of gaining intelligence about their location, Robin raced up the makeshift ramp and snagged the rope. Picturing their arrival in Hewnstone, hand over hand he hauled himself up. The sooner he could get them back on course, the sooner they would be home.

  Chapter Four

  When he had ascended halfway, Meeyoo wriggled from the rucksack. Launching herself from his shoulder, she landed on all fours atop the wall and gazed down at him with an expression approaching derision.

  Attaining the wall's rim, Robin got a grip on her lest she should decide to explore the new settlement on her own and tucked her into the sack. “Until we know what we're getting into, this is the safest place for you.”

  She replied with a glare and something of a snort but curled up on top of his belongings and rested her chin on her folded paws.

  “Stay low,” he said to his troop. Draped over and flattened on the rim, they gazed at the scene below.

  A fraction of a mile distant, a hamlet did hug the wall. Like Here, it included buildings, pens, paddocks, cultivated plots, and a commons with a pond for watering animals and a gazebo. The similarity ended there. Some round, some square, some triangular, and no two painted alike, the buildings in this settlement were as diverse in appearance as those in Here were plain and uniform. Ornamentation abounded; a symbol or emblem of some type adorned every structure.

  “They're so close to the wall. I wonder that they don't hear noise from Here on the other side.”

  “Perhaps they do and don't care.”

  “They're making plenty of noise themselves,” said Dame Deidre.

  People thronged in the commons raised a commotion.

  One man stood on a raised platform under the gazebo, gesticulating and shouting.

  “Is it a festival?” asked Sir Maxwell.

  “Or a mustering?” Sir Albert said.

  “It appears safe to investigate. None of them seems to be armed.”

  Striving to remain unobtrusive, Robin and his knights crawled, slunk, and slithered along the wall's rim until they reached a spot where a gro
ve of trees grew close to the wall. Dropping to the highest branches they climbed down to the ground.

  “Let's stay at the back of the crowd and listen,” he said to his cohorts. “We may be able to learn something of what's going on here.”

  Like their buildings, the people in the settlement were garbed in an array of garments with no two alike. Some wore hats, some didn't. Some wore jewelry, some didn't. Their hair was arranged in a multitude of styles. Emblems like coats of arms on their clothing matched those on the buildings. One feature they all shared was an eye covering. Some shielded the right eye, some the left. Some wore a patch, others a bandana. Some were bejeweled, some feathered. Though the coverings differed in color, shape, and material every individual had one eye veiled. Robin wondered what ailment could afflict people so as to blind each of them in one eye.

  “You will never come close to Perooc that way,” shouted the man on the platform, jabbing the air over the gathering with an index finger. “Join me. I know the true path.” He proceeded to expound on the experience and education supporting his claim.

  From the audience, the man closest to the platform jumped up on it and shoved the first man aside. “Don't listen to him,” he cried to the assembly. “His is a false doctrine. I know the true path, the only path.”

  With shoving and pushing, other audience members commandeered the stage to tout their knowledge and exhort adherents.

  “Have you a path to advocate?” came a voice beside Robin.

  Robin turned to regard the man beside him, a tall fellow in a violet turban and, yes, an eye patch.

  “A path?”

  “You follow his?” The turbaned man pointed to the fellow being ousted from the stage by the next speaker.

  “He made a convincing argument. So did the man before him. And the man before him. But none of them said the path to what?”

  The turbaned man chuckled. “I took you for a stranger and I was right. You are new to these parts. I assumed you sought Perooc.”

  “We do.” Robin included his troop with a sweep of his arm.

  “And you are—?”

  “King Bewilliam, of the Chalklands and the Palisades. Actually, we do not seek Perooc but rather Hewnstone. We were sailing toward there and got off course.”

  “Your Majesty.” The man bowed. “I see. Well, you have arrived.”

  Robin studied his surroundings. “This is Hewnstone?”

  “No, this is There.” He grinned. “Think about it. Wherever you travel, when you arrive, you are there. Thus, you have arrived. I am Nenoo, the warden.” His grin faded. “I know not of Hewnstone.”

  Robin had the notion he had met Nenoo before. Since that was impossible, he shook it off. “What about Perooc?”

  “Oh, of course. You do not seek Perooc?”

  “Well, since we have learned of it, yes, we do. The treasure—” said Sir Maxwell.

  “Oh, yes, the treasure.” Nenoo pressed his hands together and inhaled deeply. “To partake of the Font, what else could anyone want?”

  “Font?” asked Sir Maxwell. “Perooc is a fountain? We were told the treasure was gold and jewels.”

  “No, young man. The treasure is not material wealth. It is knowledge. The knowledge of everything. Along with that knowledge, power. Power to darken a cloudless sky. To make a woman fall in love. To turn lead into gold. To transform an enemy into a toad.”

  “Sounds like magic.” Robin sighed. Nenoo didn't know the location of Hewnstone and Perooc was merely a cache of mystical charms. Oneon in Here was correct; searching for it was pointless. Magic was no better than a trickster's ruse.

  “Not magic, no, good Sire. Knowledge, of the first principles of things. The true nature of being. The substance of life itself. Something so precious is guarded, of course. Seekers need to enter the mouth of the dragon to reach Perooc.” He gave Robin an indulgent smile. “All men desire such power. We devote our lives to acquiring it.”

  Robin frowned. The only knowledge he sought was how to get to port and Nenoo wasn't going to provide that information.

  “Once one has the knowledge, one has power, immeasurable power.” Nenoo's uncovered eye darkened as his pupil dilated. His face flushed, his breath shortened, and he licked his lips. “One can control Man, Nature. Rule the world. Rule all worlds! Be immortal!”

  Robin reflected on the speeches he had heard. The arguments for following one man or the other were impassioned but none included a single hint as to where Perooc was or how to reach it.

  On the platform, three men stood nose to nose and shouting, their fists clenched. The audience had fragmented into small groups, their boisterous arguments punctuated with pointing fingers and hands thrown up in exasperation or clenched into fists.

  Nenoo turned his face toward the crowd then back to Robin. “Our citizens have strong opinions. It doesn't always turn to violence, but sometimes … I am the warden so I—”

  Robin waved him on. “Yes, go get your people under control before someone gets hurt.”

  Nenoo bowed and elbowed his way into the crowd, breaking up the small groups and pulling apart combatants.

  Another man with an eyepatch grasped Robin's arm. “Don't let him dupe you. He does not know the path to Perooc. I do!”

  “Unhand our king,” said Sir Maxwell.

  The man dropped his arm. “My apologies.” He bowed to King Bewilliam and then to the others. “I simply wanted to spare you. You could go in circles searching for Perooc if you do not know the right path.”

  “We presume you do.” Everyone in There seemed convinced he or she knew the correct route. Robin wondered why it didn't occur to anyone that someone who knew how to get to Perooc would have acquired its treasure by now and wouldn't be in There brawling in the town square.

  “There is a door. A conduit.

  Robin narrowed his eyes. “Is there? Why hasn't anyone gone through it?”

  The man leaned forward and whispered, “I will share my knowledge with you. Come with me. We can discuss it over some refreshment. You travelers must be hungry and thirsty.” He walked away from the commons toward a row of buildings. Several tables, benches, and barrels bracketed the entrance to one of them much as they did at the alehouses in the Chalklands. With a wave, the man beckoned the king and his cohorts to follow him. “Please, be seated. I will return with food and drink.” He went inside then emerged with a tray bearing assorted cups, a pitcher, and what resembled a loaf of bread. He handed out the cups, dipped the pitcher into a barrel, and filled the cups from it. Raising a cup to his guests, he said, “Welcome, my new friends,” and drank.

  Robin paused a moment before drinking but when nothing untoward happened to the man, took a swallow from the cup, pleased to find it tasted like ale. His companions followed suit. The man tore the bread into pieces, munched on one, and with a wave of his hand, invited his guests to take part.

  It was no banquet but Robin couldn’t help but think how his subjects would welcome even such simple fare. “You said you knew of a conduit,” Robin said.

  The man nodded. “I do. Of course, that comes at a price but I can offer you a bargain if you join my followers.”

  Robin sighed. This wouldn't be the first con artist who tried to win his favor with some enticement then sell a bill of goods. If this man truly knew the way to Perooc, he would have taken it as opposed to remaining in the settlement to swindle naïve newcomers.

  Sir Albert seized the man by the arms. “We will follow you because you will lead us to the conduit. Now.”

  “He can't,” said Nenoo.

  Robin turned to see the warden standing behind him. Nenoo's ministrations were successful; the crowd gathered close to the platform had simmered down.

  “He doesn't know,” said Nenoo. “Well, he has an idea…”

  The man wriggled in the knights' grasp. “I do. I have an idea. I have the best idea. My followers are certain to find Perooc.”

  “So are mine,” Nenoo retorted.

  “Gentlemen,”
Robin roared. “Does anyone actually know how to get to Perooc?”

  Nenoo and the other man gaped.

  At last Nenoo said, “Not precisely.” He tipped up his chin. “We do know it exists somewhere. We simply have differing … opinions … on how to find it.”

  People milled about the commons, comingling at first then sorting themselves into new groups. As Robin watched, a man mounted the vacant platform and faced the crowd. He raised his arms. “My fellow searchers ….”

  “But there is a way,” said Robin.

  “Yes, yes, of course.” With his one uncovered eye, Nenoo stared at the king.

  The other man nodded. “You must choose a path. The right path.”

  With a snort, Robin waved them off. “Come,” he said to his troop. “There is nothing in this place for us to learn.”

  “You don't mean to search out Perooc yourself, do you, Your Majesty?” Nenoo called after him. “It can't be done that way. First, you must have the right path. Otherwise, you will be destroyed by the dragon.”

  Robin stomped ahead muttering under his breath.

  “Sire? Might I ask where we are going?”

  “Let's find that tree we climbed. We'll work our way back to Here and then the shore. We'll take the ship's boat back to The Fancy.”

  “We still don't know where we are or how to get to Hewnstone.”

  “Neither does anyone in There and if they did, they would prefer to argue about it than to tell us,” Robin groused. “Perhaps Sir Alan has learned something useful in Here.”

  They started from the settlement and made their way into the woods, Meeyoo trotting next to Robin on ground cushioned by grass and leaves.

  “Is this the right track? Did we take a wrong turn somewhere? This doesn't look familiar. Are these the same type of trees?”

  “It's getting dark. We should make haste, Sire.”

  Robin stopped and scanned the dusky sky.

  “Scaling the wall and retracing our path would have us paddling back to the ship in unfamiliar waters with no light,” Dame Deidre stated.

  “We could return to There and inquire about lodgings,” said Sir Maxwell.