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

by Garrett Robinson

  “Our main stronghold is nestled in the mountains, on a ridge overlooking a small dale. That dale was my favorite place when I was a child. The way the land seemed to spill down into it, tumbling from the heights to level out and grow smooth far below our home. The city surrounding our keep was built into the folds of the land. In the morning, the clouds would surround us like a blanket, and as the day wore on, the sun would cast that blanket away from us, welcoming us to its warmth. The stars … I have never seen so many, never seen them so clearly. It was like the sky viewed from the ocean on a clear night, but more so.

  “Of course, I know now that I was viewing things through the eyes of childhood, and circumstances are rarely as good or as bad as we think they are when we are young. But still, it was a beautiful place. I would often go walking and riding, for I was always a lover of the wilderness. When I was very young, my middle sister, Ditra, would accompany me, along with a few attendants. When I was older, I ventured alone.

  “In the center of the dale was a tall kauri tree. Every time, I would stop and spend a little while observing it. I told myself stories about it. I imagined climbing it one day, though I never did. The idea of it was something beautiful, and I feared that if I ever went to it in fact, if I put my hands on it, I would find that it was real, and inevitably disappointing.

  “The tree never changed. It was always there, always watching over the valley. Kauris are evergreen, so it did not even lose its leaves in the winter. I imagine it was growing, but that was impossible to notice from so far away. And because of the tree, I thought that the land, too, was unchanging. To my mind, the city of Kahaunga was much the same every time I went out on one of my adventures, and the wilderness beyond was always a joy to ride through. I have told you that Mag’s happiest days were in Northwood with Sten. Mine were in those mountains, before I grew older and realized something was wrong in my life.

  “That changed when, one day, someone cut down the kauri tree.”

  Sun frowned at him. “What? Who?”

  “Some logger, I imagine,” said Albern. “I never found out. But the next time I went riding, something felt wrong. It was like going on a journey and realizing after a week of travel that you have forgotten your cloak, though you would have sworn it was on your shoulders. Or, I suppose”—he raised the stump of his right arm—“it is like suddenly missing a limb. It took me some time to realize that the tree had been cut down, and it shook me. It shook me far more than it ought to have. But then, once I had recovered from that shock, I began to look around, and I realized that things were even worse. The dale no longer looked as it once had. The town had spread. It was a city now. A pall of smoke hung in the air, the smoke of many cooking fires and smiths' forges. I realized suddenly that the once-brilliant stars above me had grown dim and red. It had happened over time, so that I hardly noticed. And now that I studied it more closely, I realized that many trees had been felled in the dale, not just the tall kauri. Now there were more rooftops than trees in the valley. The tall kauri was only the latest victim; I had missed all the others because it had held all of my focus.

  “I ran to my mother, the Rangatira, and demanded to know what had happened to the kauri. She dismissed my concerns with a snort, saying that it had had to come down for the good of the people in the dale. I myself thought that the dale had been better before everyone had torn it down to the turf. Mayhap the kauri had only been a pretty thing for me to look at, as my mother tried to tell me, but I did not think so at the time.

  “That was in my fourteenth year. Until then, I had been mostly happy with my life. But seeing the great changes that continued to spread around me … it made me realize that I, too, had changed. I was never quite as satisfied again. I left before seeing my twentieth year.”

  “You did?” said Sun, jerked suddenly out of the spell of the story. “Why, I have only seen nineteen years. You left at the same age as I did!”

  Albern smiled down at her. “Correct. Do you not think that is odd? Do you understand a little better why, when I first heard about a daughter of the family Valgun sneaking away from her family, I thought I might understand why?”

  Sun grew somber. “Mayhap. But your family does not sound quite so bad as mine.”

  She expected him to refute her, but he only pursed his lips. “Mayhap. I suppose we shall both have to see. For now, let us return to Opara, where Mag and Dryleaf and I had taken our lodgings.”

  We woke in the morning after a restful night, more restful than any we had had since we set out from Lan Shui. In truth we slept overlong, waking a good few hours past dawn. The smell of food drifting up from the kitchen filled my nostrils as I stretched upon the bed, which I had taken after Mag had replaced me on watch. She sat with her back against the room’s door, dozing, but her eyes snapped open as she heard me groan.

  “Good morn,” she said. “I think I shall fetch us some breakfast.”

  “Make sure to bring some to Oku as well,” I said. “He is likely angry with us, for spending the night inside and apart from him, after so much time of being able to share our tents.”

  “Your tent, mayhap,” said Mag, sniffing. “I never allowed him into mine.”

  “That is patently untrue,” I said. “But in any case, I would much appreciate it if you got us some food.”

  She nodded and went to do it. I had Dryleaf up by the time she returned, and we ate in silence, enjoying our sliced sweet potato and sour bread.

  “Sky,” I breathed, once I had finished eating. “That was good.”

  “A taste of home for you, I imagine,” said Dryleaf.

  “Time for business, then,” said Mag, before I could answer Dryleaf and tell him that I barely remembered the dish, for I had spent longer outside of Calentin than within it. “We must determine how to hunt down the Shades, and hopefully Kaita.”

  “I am afraid I do not know where to start,” I said. “This place is almost as strange to me as if I had never been here before.”

  Mag grinned. “There is someone we can call on.”

  I frowned at her. “Who?”

  “Victon.”

  My eyes shot wide. “Victon? Victon is here?”

  “He is,” said Mag. “We sent each other letters on occasion. After he retired from the life of a sellsword, he moved here to Opara and began a winery.”

  Dryleaf’s brows shot for the ceiling, and he licked his lips. “Did he? It has been some time since I have been able to enjoy a good, rare vintage.”

  “Victon,” I said, shaking my head. “I can scarcely believe it.”

  “I hope he will be happy to see us,” said Mag, “and that he will be able to aid us.”

  Laughing, I said, “Happy? I have never known Victon to be anything but a happy man. Let us ask the innkeeper if he knows where the vineyard is, and then let us report to our old captain.”

  You may remember my mentioning Victon earlier. When I joined the Upangan Blades, he was my first sergeant. We fought together for a good long while, and unlike many of my other superiors, he and Mag and I were always fast friends, partially because of something that had happened when I had only been with the company for a few months.

  He and I were scouting through the jungle towards an enemy camp when a bear plunged out of the underbrush and attacked us. I was a few paces ahead of Victon, but my focus was on the tracks we were following, and so Victon noticed the bear first. He leaped forwards to shove me out of the way of its charge. It struck him instead, sending him careening into a tree. He sagged to the ground, groaning.

  I gave a shout and drew an arrow from my quiver. The bear turned on me at once. It came roaring towards me with a fury that told me it must have cubs nearby. Nothing else could have provoked it into such unreasoning rage.

  As it charged, I managed to loose a single arrow. But panic sent my shot wide, and the arrow only entangled in the fur of the bear’s shoulder. It struck out, and I barely threw myself out of the way in time. Its paw snapped my bow in two. I ducked behind
a tree as it swiped again. Its claws ripped through the tree, nearly toppling it.

  Even as I prepared to run for my life, Victon came charging with a cry. He went for a stab, but the bear rounded and struck him a heavy backhanded blow. He crashed to the ground. The bear reared, ready to fall upon him and crush him with its massive bulk.

  I had been about to flee, but seeing Victon helpless gave me just enough courage to rejoin the fight. I drew my short sword and charged. I stabbed the beast in the side, but fear had weakened my sword arm. A few fingers’ worth of steel pierced the bear’s flank, but that was all.

  Still, it turned and thundered in rage at me, forgetting Victon. I barely managed to duck another swing. The creature’s speed and ferocity were incredible.

  I had only one thought: I had to draw it away from Victon. There was no use in both of us dying out here in this sky-forsaken wilderness. I ran off into the jungle, hoping to lose it. But the bear was never more than a few paces behind me. My breath grew short. I could practically smell the thing, and I thought I was doomed.

  But then came Mag.

  She had been assigned to the same squadron as I, and she and a few of our fellows had remained behind to wait for Victon and me to return. She heard the sound of the bear’s attack from far away through the jungle and came running as fast as she could.

  Even as I was searching for some place I could climb, or some hole I could hide where the bear would not be able to follow, I heard the tone of its roaring change behind me. I turned and found Mag had engaged with the beast. This was long before she had acquired her spear in Dulmun, so she had a simple broadsword. But she had not even bothered to draw it before flinging herself at the bear.

  It growled and swiped at her, but Mag evaded the blow with such ease that she looked lazy doing it. Then her boot flew up and struck the bear hard in its chin. I heard a crunch, and its head snapped back. It gave a confused grunt.

  Before it could raise another paw to strike, Mag leaped forwards and jabbed at its eyes with fingers she had pressed together like daggers. I heard a wet thunk as she pierced one of the bear’s eyes, and it gave a terrified scream of pain and fury.

  It struck, but again Mag avoided the blow. When she came back up, her sword was in her hand. It sank into the soft flesh underneath the bear’s foreleg, piercing deep into its rib cage. Its cry came out wet and wheezing.

  The bear turned and fled. It limped on three legs to favor the fourth that Mag had maimed. She turned to me, the battle-trance like a mask over her expression. It shook me then, as it always did.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Victon,” I gasped. “It is heading for Victon.”

  She seized my arm and pulled me up, and together we pelted after the beast.

  Its trail through the jungle was plain to see—and then, half a span before we reached the place I had left Victon, it turned right and vanished into the underbrush. I stopped at the spot, and Mag ran a few more paces before she stopped and looked back at me.

  “What is it?” she said.

  “It turned. Headed off that way.” I pointed where the trail had gone.

  She saw the trail after I pointed it out and nodded. “I am going after it. We have to make sure it does not wander into our enemy’s camp and alert them. See to Victon.”

  Without waiting for my answer, she bolted off between the trees. I carried on towards the clearing where we had been attacked. There I found Victon. He had crawled to a nearby tree and sat with his back against it, panting and grimacing, holding his side. Blood seeped out from between his fingers.

  “Victon!” I cried. “Are you all right?”

  I ran to him, and he smiled up at me, his white teeth shining against his dark skin. “Fine,” he said, chuckling. “Its claws got me, but not very badly.”

  He lifted his hand, and I could see it was true. There was a gash, but nothing life-threatening unless it became infected.

  “It needs cleaning,” I said, reaching for a flask of ale at my side. “I wish I had something stronger, but this will sting badly enough to do the job.”

  “How comforting. Wait.” Victon seized the flask and took a deep pull, wincing at its poor taste. He handed it back to me. “All right.”

  I poured it on the wound. Victon growled out his pain and then laid his hand back on the wound when I was done, putting pressure on it with the edge of his cloak.

  “There now,” I said. “The healers back at camp can tend to it further.”

  “Mag?” he said.

  “Went after the bear. She did not want it to wander towards our enemies, lest they discover other soldiers are here in the jungle.”

  “Smart of her,” said Victon.

  “Yes, it annoys me,” I said lightly. “No one should be that good a fighter and have a mind for strategy.”

  Victon chuckled. And just then, Mag returned to the clearing. The battle-trance was gone from her, and there was a deep frown on her face.

  “You finished it?” I asked her.

  “No,” she said. “It vanished.”

  “You lost the trail? It was not exactly trying to be stealthy, after the trouncing you gave it.”

  “For which I thank you, by the way,” said Victon.

  “Yes,” I said. “It is not everyone who can defeat a full-grown bear with only her hands.”

  Victon stared at me incredulously. “Her hands?”

  “At first,” I said, smiling. “I think she wanted a challenge before she deigned to draw her sword.”

  “Oh, be silent, both of you,” said Mag. “And I did not lose the trail. The bear vanished.”

  I rolled my eyes and grinned at Victon. “That bolsters my confidence, at least. She may be better with a sword than anyone I have ever seen, but she is as useless in this jungle as you are, sir.”

  Victon burst out laughing, though it looked like it hurt him. “You two have saved my life, and that is not something easily forgotten. Thank you. Now help me up.”

  We stooped to lift him, and I walked him off through the jungle with his arm around my shoulder. Mag took his other arm, bloody sword still bare in her hand.

  “You are too kind, by the way, sir,” I said. “I did not save your life. That honor was Mag’s.”

  Victon grinned again. “You drew it off, and you tried to fight it, at least. We cannot all be the Uncut Lady.”

  Mag grimaced. I had only recently coined that name for her. Victon and I laughed again. Our true friendship began in that moment, and it would last for the rest of our lives.

  And it is rather important to me that you know this story, for reasons that shall become plain.

  Our innkeeper did indeed know where the vineyards could be found, and he seemed somewhat jealous when we said we and Victon were old friends. It seemed that Victon was rather well known in the area, and his wine much sought after.

  With Dryleaf in tow, we rode for the place with light hearts, for we were eager to see our friend again after so long. We cast our hoods up and moved quickly, doing our best to pass unnoticed, just in case the weremage was in the city and happened upon us by chance. We still thought we had the element of surprise. Of course, you know that all our precautions were in vain, but we did not.

  We spotted Victon’s place almost from the moment we passed through the city’s eastern gate. He had a very large estate, hectares of vines stretching across the feet of Tahumaunga, which loomed high above. There was a west wind that day, and so the air was clear, the mountain’s lazy smoke blowing away from us. Once we were a good distance out of town, Mag threw back her hood.

  “If the weremage is watching us from the sky, that is because she already knows we are here,” she proclaimed. “And it is far too wonderful a day to stay sweating under that hood any longer.”

  I smiled at her. We let the horses proceed at their own slow pace, with Foolhoof occasionally trying to wander off the road towards a particularly delicious-looking patch of grass. Oku padded happily beside us.

  A lig
ht wooden fence surrounded Victon’s land. It would have been proof against nothing more determined than wandering deer, and the gate at the front stood open. We walked up between the rows of vines, seeing no one nearby. Only when we drew closer to the house at the end of the path did we finally see six figures, bent and plucking the last of the year’s grapes. So deep were they in concentration that we drew very close indeed before one of them noticed us. Her plump face, brown skin further darkened by the sun, crinkled as she squinted at us.

  “Visitors,” she said, loud enough for us to hear.

  Two of the figures, the ones closest to the path, raised their heads. One of them was a young man, the other a woman, and from their jet-black skin and features, I knew them for Victon’s kin. When they saw us, they stepped away from their vines and came walking up. The rest of the workers gave us only a cursory glance before returning to their jobs.

  “Good day,” said the woman as she approached. “I regret to inform you that we have no stock available for sale. Last year’s wine is not yet ready, and it is all reserved, in any case.”

  “That is ill news,” said Mag. “Or it would be, if we were here looking for wine. We have come to see Victon. He is an old friend, even if he is now of such stature that others must greet us when we visit. Am I to guess that you are his children?”

  They looked uncertainly at each other. “We … are,” said the boy. “How do you know our father?”

  “From the days of our youth,” I said. “Or hers and mine, at least, for Victon is older than either of us. We were sellswords together, in the days when he fought for the Upangan Blades.”

  A flash of recognition shot across both their faces. They looked up at the two of us with renewed interest, and the girl’s eyes shone. She pointed to Mag.