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

by Garrett Robinson

  Before I could even strike one of them, a club crashed into my temple. I fell into blackness and knew nothing more.

  “Are you all right?”

  Sun blinked. “What?”

  “Your eyes,” said Albern.

  Raising a hand to her cheek, Sun found it wet. She did not know when she had begun weeping. The tears had come slow and silent, wending their way down her face.

  “I am fine,” she said, scrubbing at her eyes with the back of a hand.

  “We could enjoy silence for a moment,” said Albern. “I do not mean to distress you.”

  “It seemed so unfair,” said Sun, keeping her voice low for fear it might betray her and break. “For you and Mag to think Sten would live, only for that witch to … Sten did not even want to be there.”

  “None of us did,” said Albern quietly. “That is sometimes the way of it. You find yourself somewhere you never thought you would be, and great tragedy or great fortune befalls you, unlooked-for. And then, too, things are not always what they seem. Sten was hardly the first friend I lost that way. I had a friend who I saw struck down on a battlefield in Wavemount, but he lingered on for three more days. One of my captains in the Ruby Crowns took a scratch on his cheek from an arrow. He laughed at the time, and led us to victory. The wound became infected, and he died a month later. Then there was young Bowtin, a foolish boy I met in Dulmun. He fell from a ship into the Great Bay during a sea-battle, and we thought him drowned. We mourned him and moved on—and then we met him in a Dorsean tavern two months later, for he had fought his way to shore and survived. Loren, our friend who rode from Northwood? She thought us dead in that battle. She mourned us for a long while. Our deaths helped shape her life for a good deal of time afterwards—and then she discovered that we had never died in the first place. Life and death are never so clean as we imagine them to be, especially when it comes to those we love. And they have not moved.”

  Sun frowned. “What?”

  “Your friends in the corner,” said Albern. “You keep glancing at them as I speak, as if you are afraid they are watching you, or looking for you. But they have not moved since they arrived.”

  “I know. Is that not odd?” Sun scowled into her beer and took another sip. “They have not even risen to relieve themselves.”

  “Nor have you.”

  Sun glared at him. “I would, but I am afraid they will take notice of me.”

  “I can take you outside if you wish,” said Albern. “But if I do, you will have to move when I tell you to, and do exactly as I say.”

  Sun blinked. “What?”

  “I can take you outside. In fact, I think I should.”

  She did not understand, but his words were earnest, and his eyes held no trace of a joke. “I … yes.”

  Albern lifted his hand, and Sun noticed for the first time that he wore a silver ring on the middle finger of his left hand. It bore a symbol she had never seen before, and it was part of no tale about Albern that she had ever heard.

  Curling his knuckles, Albern rapped twice on the wooden table—just as the barman had done earlier in the night. Then, whispering, “Come,” he abruptly stood and strode through the back door, snatching his bow up as he went.

  Sun dared not glance at the guards in the corner as she leaped to her feet and followed him, but she guessed they must have noticed the commotion. She hid her face under the hood of her borrowed cloak and tried to get through the door as quickly as she could.

  In the brisk night air, Albern stood with his face raised to the moonslight. He looked as if he was listening for something, or mayhap sniffing the air. But when Sun emerged into view, he turned at once and smiled at her.

  “You will have to make a bit of a climb,” he said. “But if I can do it with one arm, I am confident you can do it with two.”

  So saying, he jumped atop a small crate beside the tavern’s back door. From there he took a large step up another two that were stacked atop each other. Sun saw that a pile of crates, which she had thought were stacked at random, actually formed a little mountain leading up to the edge of the tavern’s roof, and Albern was scaling it like a satyr.

  She hurried to follow him, and soon they had both reached the solid ceramic shingles. There was a little platform there, with two piles of soft cushions. Albern kicked off his mud-covered boots with some difficulty and sank down on one of the cushion piles, and after a moment’s hesitation, Sun took her place on the other.

  “What is this—” Sun began, but Albern shushed her and pointed down at the ground.

  Sun watched as the two guards from her parents’ retinue burst out the back door of the tavern. They stopped in the alley, searching left and right. One of them spoke, and the words drifted up to Sun and Albern on the rooftop.

  “Where did she go?”

  “I do not know. She vanished.”

  “Our lord will have our heads.”

  “Not if we find her. Split up. And if you see that useless constable, enlist him into the hunt.”

  They ran off, one to the left and one to the right, and soon they were lost from view.

  “They knew!” hissed Sun, who feared to speak too loudly.

  “They did,” said Albern.

  “They followed me to the tavern!”

  “So it seems.”

  “My parents sent them,” said Sun. “Curse them. I thought I had snuck out without detection.”

  “Our parents often like to let us think we are alone and independent, but they watch us more closely than they allow us to see. Royal children especially.”

  That drew Sun’s attention. “Not royal,” she said.

  Albern smiled. “Noble, then.”

  She turned her gaze from him. “You have not asked why I am hiding.”

  “That is your business,” said Albern. “It has nothing to do with me, unless you wish it to.”

  “What if I am a criminal?” said Sun. “I could be a thief or a murderer.”

  Albern chuckled. “Those women are guards. Retainers of a noble family, or mayhap hired hands to protect a merchant’s caravan. If you were on the run, you would not be afraid of them, but of redbacks.”

  Sun frowned. “What?”

  “Forgive me,” said Albern. “It is not a polite term. Constables with their red armor, and Mystics with their crimson cloaks—those who fear the King’s law call them redbacks, collectively.”

  “And how would you know that?” said Sun.

  He grinned at her. “I, too, could be a thief or a murderer.”

  That forced a laugh from her, though she quickly hushed it and threw another nervous look at the street below. “The stories say many things about you, but they say nothing about being a criminal.”

  “I suppose they are not entirely worthless, then,” said Albern with a smile.

  Sun chuckled.

  “If you still need to relieve yourself, climb down and do it quickly,” said Albern. “That shed built against the back wall is an outhouse. I will wait here.”

  Sun nodded and did as he suggested. After she had climbed back up and settled herself on her pile of cushions again, she looked at him expectantly and waited for him to go on.

  Then she nearly jumped out of her skin at a loud thunk behind them.

  She tensed, ready to run—but then a hidden panel swung up from the rooftop. The barmaid from earlier climbed halfway up through the hole, and in her hand was a tray with two full mugs of beer.

  “I am glad you found your way here safely,” she said to Albern. She put the tray with the mugs on the roof between the two piles of cushions. “Anything else? Some food, mayhap?”

  “None for me, thank you, Morled,” said Albern. “Sun?”

  “No, thank you,” said Sun, who suddenly found her fingernails very interesting as a flush crept into her cheeks.

  The barmaid only smiled at her. “Sun. A lovely name.” She leaned over and planted a quick kiss on Sun’s cheek. “Bear no worries tonight. No one here will let you fall into th
e hands of the constables—or anyone else who looks for you.”

  With a final bright smile, she retreated back through the roof hatch into the tavern. It was quite a little while before Sun realized she was frozen staring at the hatch, one hand gently touching her cheek where she could still feel the warmth of Morled’s lips.

  “Have another sip,” said Albern. The moonslight was not bright enough to show it, but Sun could hear the smile in his voice.

  “Yes, thank you,” said Sun distractedly. She seized the mug and drained half of it in a single pull.

  “You are clever,” said Albern. “If you finish it quickly, she will have to come back.”

  “I—that is not why I—”

  Albern’s smile widened and turned into a grin. “I know.”

  “Does your injury still pain you?”

  He frowned. “What?”

  “Your injury. The blow that knocked you unconscious in Northwood. Does it still hurt you?”

  Albern raised the stump of his right arm. “This one does, on occasion. But the knock on the head I took in Northwood … no, that does not pain me any longer.”

  “And Mag?” said Sun. “Her injuries—were they very bad?”

  Albern’s mouth twisted. “Mag suffered greatly at Northwood. But her hurts were of the mind, not the body.”

  Sun frowned. “I thought you said—”

  “I said I thought I saw her injured,” said Albern. “In the thick of battle, I was sure of it. But war turns a mind to madness. Soldiers often think they see things that never happened. It is one reason you must be very wary of believing stories—and war stories in particular.”

  “Do you mean they did not hurt her, even in Northwood?” said Sun. “Even in the press of all those Shades?”

  “They hurt her,” said Albern quietly. “They hurt her more deeply than she had ever been hurt in her life. But she was Mag. She was good at getting back up and carrying on. We both were, then. And Kaita, the weremage, had always been good at it.”

  Even as I lay unconscious on the ground, Kaita was winging her way west over Northwood as it burned.

  Unarmed, she thought. She beat me unarmed.

  Again.

  Beyond the city’s western outskirts, she found Rogan in council with his captains. They had gathered atop a hillock, from which they could observe most of Northwood and the progress of their troops through the city. Kaita landed and resumed her human form. Once he saw her growing out of the bird’s shape, Rogan bid his captains away with a wave of his hand and went to speak to her alone.

  “I need more troops,” said Kaita. “I know where Mag is, but I need more to overwhelm her.”

  “We cannot spare them,” said Rogan.

  “Rogan—”

  “We cannot spare them, Kaita,” said Rogan. “I must ride north after Loren, and I must take many of our siblings with me. And I need you to lead the rest of them back to the Watcher.”

  “No!” cried Kaita. “Mag is still in there! She defeated me, but I must try again. Who knows when I will get another chance?”

  Rogan tilted his head and looked upon her with a kindly expression. “What happened?”

  Kaita scowled. “She … she was too fast. I had taken the form of a mountain lion, but she still outmatched me.” She did not mention that Mag had done it unarmed. She spat. “At least I killed her steer of a husband.”

  “Sten is dead?” said Rogan.

  “He is, and darkness take him.”

  Much to Kaita’s annoyance, Rogan’s lips twisted in a soft smile. “I told you that I did not think you were destined to defeat her this day, Kaita.”

  “You did,” said Kaita, avoiding his gaze. “And how did you know that?”

  “I have some of our father’s sight, though I cannot see as far as he can,” said Rogan. “Do not despair. I have made you promises, and I intend to keep them.”

  “You promised I would defeat her,” said Kaita. “How do you mean for that to happen while I am leading your army to the—”

  “Your army as much as mine,” said Rogan, his tone betraying a rare note of admonishment. “And I have changed my mind. You will lead our siblings into the Greatrocks, but you will not take them to the Watcher. When they turn north, you should continue west. Make sure you leave a trail they can follow. I have been led to believe that Albern is an excellent tracker.”

  “I suppose,” said Kaita through gritted teeth. “And where would you have me lead them?”

  “To where it all began. Between the two of you.”

  Kaita’s eyes shot wide. “Home.”

  “Yes. And not just for your own personal reasons. I need to send a trusted captain there to hurry things along. For some time now, I did not know who it would be. Now the answer is obvious. I trust no one more than you. Lead Albern and Mag there, and help our siblings accomplish their mission. You can claim your vengeance at the same time.”

  Kaita stepped towards him and smiled. “Yes, this … this is better. This is far better. Sky above, Rogan, why did you not tell me this was your aim in the first place? I would have done as you asked.”

  Rogan shook his head. “This was not my plan. Many things are not clear to me until it is time. Even an hour ago, I would never have considered it. I am sorry, Kaita. It frustrates me as much as you.”

  Many emotions warred within her. But her fear was still nearly as strong as her excitement. She shook her head slowly—not in refusal, but in thought.

  “If I do this,” she said, “I want a guarantee. I may need more strength than I currently have.”

  “You are strong beyond—”

  “That is not what I mean,” said Kaita. “I want a guarantee, Rogan. If I do this, and yet I cannot take my revenge alone, I want our father to grant me the power he has long denied me.”

  Rogan’s eyes narrowed, filling with … not fear, but something akin to it. “That is too dangerous.”

  “I am no simpleton.”

  “The risks—”

  “The risk to me, and to my mission, is also great,” said Kaita. “Promise me, Rogan.”

  Rogan sighed. “Kaita, if things go ill, we will have to—”

  “I know.”

  “I have no wish to see you harmed.”

  Her expression softened. “I know that, too.” She went to him then, and she laid her head against his chest. “Whatever you may think of me, I am our father’s child. My heart is true. But I need this.”

  “Then you shall have it,” said Rogan. His tree-trunk arm wrapped around her shoulders. “If you cannot vanquish her alone, you will have every power our father can grant you. And I only hope neither of us has cause to regret it.”

  “Thank you,” Kaita whispered into his chest. Then she drew back, out of his reach, and looked up into his eyes. “Go after Loren. Bring our father’s vengeance to those who call themselves our rulers.”

  “I will. May death stay its hand from you.”

  Kaita smirked. “I would wish you the same, but in your case, death has no choice. I will contact you when I can.”

  Rogan gave her a final smile and left. Kaita took a moment to gather herself before finding the captains to order the retreat.

  I woke with a splitting headache to find Elsie kneeling over me, bathing my face with warm water.

  “Mag,” I groaned.

  “You are alive,” she said, her brows rising. “The healers told me so, but I did not believe them. Neither would you, if you could see yourself.”

  “Mag,” I repeated. I tried to lift my head, but a spike of pain nearly drove me senseless again. I fought to remain conscious. “Where is she?” I whispered.

  “Puttering about the place,” said Elsie. She rose and went to fetch me water from a bucket by the wall.

  “Alive?”

  “No, she died, but that has not stopped her. Of course she is alive, you dolt.”

  I let myself relax, at least a little. “Everyone else?” I said. Each word came with great effort. “How many survived?
”

  Elsie’s brisk demeanor seemed to fade away. She looked over at me, and for a moment her eyes sparkled with tears. “Not enough. Though I suppose each one is a blessing.”

  She had been there when I first fought to defend Northwood against invaders all those years ago. I could see from the sadness on her face that this time was far, far worse.

  “I am sorry,” I said.

  Her resolve returned at once, and she turned back to the water, ladling a cup full of it. “You should not be. You fought like a champion. Not as well as Mag, of course, or she would be lying here and you would be the one walking around. But you did all right, I suppose.”

  That forced a weak chuckle out of me, and with it, I felt a bit better. Strength had been creeping back into my limbs. I tried to lift my head again, and this time the pain was not so bad.

  “No,” said Elsie at once, coming towards me. “You are to stay—”

  “I want to see the town,” I told her firmly. “And I need to see Mag.”

  Before she could reach me, I sat up, and I gently batted away her hands when she tried to push me back down. Despite her protests, I rose from the straw pallet where I had been laid.

  It was not till then that I realized I was in the common room of the Lee Shore. Mag’s inn could not have looked more different. All the tables had been cleared out, and the floor was covered with four rows of pallets holding the wounded. Healers and helpers moved down the line, providing more pillows, fetching water, and seeing to their patients’ needs.

  “Are these all who remain?” I said as I fought painfully to my feet.

  Though she clucked her tongue at me, Elsie at last abandoned her attempts to force me back to bed. She took an arm and helped me rise to my feet. “Of course not,” she said. “Every tavern and inn throughout Northwood has been turned into a sickroom. Those that were not burned down in the attack, anyway.”

  “Help me to the door,” I said.

  “You mean to go outside?” she said, horrified.

  “I told you I need to see Mag. If she is not in here, then yes, I need to go outside.”

  Elsie glared up at me and did not budge. “I am not sure how else to tell you this, and I do not understand why I have to, but: you nearly died, you great idiot.”