Sure enough, when we reached the wall, the guards asked about our business, paying special attention to Mag’s spear, and to my bow and sword. They found Lord Matara’s writ to be in order, but they did not let us through immediately, first asking us a few more questions about our business in Tokana. We had prepared a story: we were seeking to deliver a message to a member of Lord Matara’s family, who was here on diplomatic business.
The guards looked at each other in surprise at that. I frowned, forgetting my desire for discretion for a moment, and spoke. “My good servants, why so many questions? A writ is normally enough to secure passage across the kingdom.”
“Normally, yes,” said one of the guards, an elderly man with a thick beard who did not take too kindly to such a challenge from an uppity youngster. “But you have been on the road, and have not heard the news. The High King’s Seat was attacked near the end of Yanis, and the High King herself narrowly escaped death in the battle.”
The words struck us like a hammer blow. Mag and I shared a glance, and Dryleaf went very still in his saddle.
“Attacked?” said Mag. “By whom?”
“The kingdom of Dulmun,” said the guard. “A good distance away from us, you might say, but they have many citizens across the nine kingdoms. If you serve a Rangatira, you should be able to appreciate a little extra caution, given the circumstances.”
“Of course,” said Mag. “If only the Dulmish king were as loyal as you good people, this would not be such a dark day.”
That seemed to pacify them, especially the old one, and they waved us on after only a few more questions. Dryleaf had remained silent all the long while, answering only when one of the guards asked him a question, and then only in brief, clipped words. As we passed from earshot of the guards, he spoke at last, scarcely above a whisper.
“The Seat.”
“I know,” I said.
Dryleaf bowed his head. “What if Loren was there?”
“That was not her intent,” I said. “She made for Ammon. She was only going to send a message to the High King.”
The old man shook his head. “I have known many Mystics. If I were one of their captains, and I believed her tale, I would send her to the Seat herself, so that all she knew could be laid before the throne, and all her counsel taken.”
“Even if that is the case, she will be fine,” said Mag. “Loren is a clever girl. She has survived worse.”
“Worse than a battle on the Seat?” I said. “They may say it was Dulmun, but I do not think that is the whole truth. The Shades were involved, or I am a fool.”
“Both things may be true,” said Mag. Before I could respond, she quickly went on. “If Enalyn survived, her forces must have won the battle. And you know Loren is not a fighter. She would not put herself in the middle of a conflict like that.”
“Those who do not wield blades can still die upon them,” I said.
“And one battle will not be the end of it,” said Dryleaf. “Who knows what may have happened since?”
“Not I, and not you,” said Mag. “I am as worried about Loren as either of you. But we cannot know what may or may not have happened to her, and even if we set out for the Seat this minute we could not find out for months. Keep your mind on our task here, and once we have completed it, then we can look after her.”
I sighed. “Very well. It is true enough that we cannot get answers either quickly or easily. And the weremage will not wait idly if we decide to go find Loren.”
Dryleaf shook himself. “You are right, of course. And if she survived, she will receive our letter soon. Mayhap she already has. That is some small comfort, at least.”
“It is,” I said with a smile. Mag murmured in agreement, though she seemed troubled.
We turned our attention back to the city around us, and I tried to remember what I could, in order to direct us to a good inn for the night. But I felt that with each new corner I turned, I found some way in which the city had changed. I could not be sure if it was only my poor memory, or if things were truly so different as I thought, but I suspected the latter. I thought much of the tall kauri tree that had been felled in my youth, and I knew that that had not been the end of the changing of my world.
Kaita reached the Shades before we reached Tokana, of course, and she received word the day we arrived.
Phelan, the captain of the stronghold in her stead, delivered the message. He knocked twice on her door, hard. After waiting three heartbeats for a response, he opened it and stepped in. In his hand he held a lantern, and he lit a taper from it, which he used to illuminate two more lanterns on either side of the room.
“Commander Kaita,” he said, keeping his eyes studiously away from the bed. “There is news.”
Kaita was already sitting up, as was the girl who had joined her in her bed that night. The girl looked somewhat embarrassed at the intrusion, but Kaita ignored her and donned a thin robe. The room was cold for such a threadbare garment, but the chill was as nothing to Kaita.
“Considering I gave you permission to wake me in only one instance,” said Kaita, “I think I may venture a guess as to what news you have brought.”
“She has reached Tokana.”
“With the others?” said Kaita.
He nodded. “The old one known as Dryleaf, and the ranger.”
“The Telfer man is not a ranger,” spat Kaita.
Phelan did not seem to know quite what to say to that, and eventually he settled for, “They brought the dog as well.”
Kaita tried to suppress her irritation. Though our journey to Tokana had taken us longer than we wished, we had arrived just a little too soon for her purposes. Matters with the trolls had progressed more slowly than she would have wished.
“What of the Telfer patrols?” she said.
“We still encounter them occasionally,” said Phelan. “Or rather, we see them. We are always careful not to be noticed.”
“Are they still out at night?”
The man frowned. “They are. And they have increased their guards since the trolls crossed the border.”
Kaita’s fingers played with her hair, braiding it absentmindedly as she considered her plans. “Very well. The trolls’ efforts must be increased. Gatak shall have to go and visit them, especially now that Dotag has taken leadership. And keep someone—or several someones—watching Mag at all times. But sky above, do not let her notice. I shall join our agents monitoring them, when my other duties permit me.”
The man bowed. “As you say, Commander.”
“That will be all.”
He nodded and left. The room settled to silence, and the girl in Kaita’s bed looked uncertainly at her.
“Would you like me to go?”
“If you wish,” said Kaita. “Or you may stay. It is your choice.” She removed her robe and lay back down on the bed, staring at the ceiling with her hands clasped under her head.
The girl looked annoyed. “In that case, I think I will take my leave.”
Kaita barely heard her. The first real notice she took was when the room went suddenly dark, as the girl snuffed the lamps before leaving. But she remained deep in her own thoughts.
Mag and I had arrived in Tokana at last. Kaita had lured me all the way home.
Soon, the long hunt—which had lasted much longer than the paltry past few months—would come to an end.
I was, as you have gathered, rather terrified of being discovered by my family. To help you understand why, I should tell you something of my eldest sister, Romil, and of something that happened soon after I had fled from home.
My mother had no tolerance for what she saw as my “foolishness,” by which she meant my desire to be happy. She still thought I could be useful to her, and so she sent Romil to bring me home. Romil was very like my mother, which is to say that she was cold and uncaring. Growing up, we hardly ever spoke to each other more than was absolutely required. My mother did not mind. As long as we obeyed her, she cared little for how we felt about e
ach other.
It took Romil some months to find me. I had already had my wending and joined the Upangan Blades before she came stomping into our camp one day. Sentries challenged her, and Romil almost came to blows with them. But I happened to be passing by, and I saw them arguing.
The sight of her froze me in place. I had managed to convince myself that my family would simply … let me vanish. That my mother, who had never seemed to care about me one way or another, would forget about me, and be satisfied with two daughters who seemed willing to serve her. I should have known it was a fool’s hope.
I approached them and put a hand on the sentry’s shoulder. “She is with me,” I said. He gave me a doubtful look, but he went off on his patrol, leaving Romil and me standing there facing each other.
She studied me, and I studied her in turn. Behind her was a retainer of our house, but I barely noticed. I could only see Romil. She wore our family’s colors proudly. A bow was on her back, and an axe hung at her belt. She had done her hair in a single long braid that fell to the small of her back. Her expression was a mixed one—appraisal, and faint amusement, but mostly anger.
“You look different,” she said.
“A wending sometimes has that effect.”
She grunted. “So it does,” she said. “I hope it has made you happy, as well as cleared your head. It is time for you to return. Mother commands it.”
“I no longer follow Mother’s commands,” I told her.
Her fingers tightened on the haft of her axe. “Of course you do,” she said. “You are a Telfer. Mother has need of you, and wending or no, you can still be of use.”
It was, of course, a rather abominable thing to say, and I cannot with any honesty speak in her defense. The time after a wending is a delicate one. Doubtless you know the ritual one’s friends and family are supposed to perform, for the sake of the ander person. The kindest thing I can say for Romil is that I do not think she spoke out of malice. Mother had given her a duty, and that duty was the only thing she cared about. My feelings mattered to her not at all.
Her response sent my blood rising, and I answered somewhat more rashly than I should have. “I am so glad to hear it. That I might still be useful to her. But I regret to say that I am not going anywhere, least of all with you.”
She stepped forwards and seized my arm. A few paces away, the retainer’s hands balled to fists, though she bore no weapon. “Of course you are, you idiot,” snarled Romil. “You have had your lark as an honorless sellsword. But the game is over now. You can ride behind me on my horse.”
“No!” I cried, recoiling. But her grip on my arm was like an iron band. “Let go of me!”
“What is all this about?”
Never before or since have I been so glad to hear Mag’s voice. I looked over my shoulder to see her approaching from the midst of the camp. Near her was the sentry who had first spoken to Romil. He gave me a grim look over Mag’s shoulder—he must have sensed trouble brewing, and gone to fetch her.
Mag stepped up close, and Romil had at least enough sense to let go my arm. She stared Mag up and down with a haughty expression I was well familiar with.
“Who are you supposed to be?” she said.
“A friend,” said Mag. Then, as if afraid Romil might be confused, she added, “Not your friend, of course.”
Romil looked past her to me. “You keep charming company, Vera.”
My stomach did another ugly turn. Again I spoke without thinking. “My name is Albern now.”
Romil’s eyes shot wide, her expression incredulous. Then she gave a loud, ugly laugh. “Oh, it is, is it? I suppose I should have expected as much. You always had the strange notion that you were somehow better than the rest of us, though you never did a thing to prove it.”
“And that is about all I need to hear from you,” said Mag. “Leave. Now.”
“I do not even take suggestions from sellsword scum, much less orders,” growled Romil. “Walk away, if you know what is good for you.”
Mag looked over her shoulder at me. “I do not much like her. Should I—”
“Leave it.” I looked past her to Romil. “That goes for you as well. I am staying here. You can tell Mother you tried. And that you failed.”
Romil’s face grew dark with anger. “I have not failed at anything, you witless girl.”
Mag struck faster than I could see. Her fists cracked twice against Romil’s face, flinging her senseless to the ground. I stared at her fallen form in horror and grief. The retainer tensed as if readying for a fight, but Mag stopped her with a look.
“You would be unwise to push the matter,” she said. “Take your master and ride away with her. Go back to your lord. Tell her whatever you wish, but get this wretch out of my sight before I send her back with more than a headache.”
The retainer did as Mag commanded. I could not even watch. My head hung between my knees as I sat on the ground, angry tears pouring their tracks down my cheeks. As Romil rode off, slumped over her horse’s neck, Mag came to sit beside me, throwing an arm around my shoulder and holding me until my grief subsided.
Albern looked suddenly down at Sun. “Do you understand why I am telling you this?”
Sun blinked up at him. “You said I should know something of Romil.”
“That is not the only reason. You know, by now, that our families are not entirely dissimilar. Mine tried to drag me back home. Yours may do the same. But your life is your own, and your future is a choice no one can make for you. And if they try to convince you otherwise … well, you have a friend who can help you now, just as I had one to help me then.”
Sun blinked at a sudden smarting in her eyes. “Thank you,” she said, quietly, for she did not trust herself to speak any louder. “That means a great deal.”
Albern nodded. “So long as you know. Now, let us return to the tale.”
After a good night’s rest at a fine inn near the western edge of Kahaunga, our party woke and began our search for the Shades. First we spoke to our innkeeper and some others in the common room, trading stories of travel through the kingdom for information about events in Tokana.
We learned very quickly about the trolls’ recent incursions into Telfer lands. When I first heard of it, I thought it was an Elf-tale, someone spreading stories meant to give the listener a thrill. But when we heard the same thing from three different people, the truth became clear. The trolls were encroaching upon Tokana, and no one in the city knew why.
But I had some idea.
I led Mag and Dryleaf back to our room to speak in private. Calentin inns are tolerant of hounds, so Oku came as well. He flopped down on a small blanket in the corner, tongue lolling from his mouth in a smile. But he looked at all of us with keen eyes as we talked.
“This situation with the trolls,” I said as soon as the door closed. “We must learn everything we can about it.”
Mag frowned. “Why? It seems a local trouble.”
“The trolls are an exceptionally peaceful people,” I said. “My family has never had conflict with them. For them to now show aggression …”
“You think it has something to do with the Shades,” said Dryleaf, pursing his lips.
Understanding dawned in Mag’s eyes. “As with the vampires.”
“It must be,” I said. “The Shades are provoking them to carry out these attacks. Either they are drawing the trolls in with some lure, or they are driving them out of the mountains towards us. Though I know not how such a thing could be done. The trolls are formidable in battle, and very difficult to harm. Only a well-fortified stronghold would have any hope of defending against them, and even then not for very long.”
“Are you certain?” said Mag. “Human lords squabble with each other over borders all the time, with little or no provocation.”
I shook my head. “The trolls are not human. Nor are they beasts like vampires, possessing little wit. They are cleverer than satyrs, though much slower to anger—which is why you must fear their wrath
all the more, for once stoked it can be impossible to quell. They are the titled lords of the Greatrocks, from Calentin’s northern border to the city of Woad far to the south. The Calentin king and their border guards are permitted to have settlements on the only three passes that provide easy passage through the mountains, and the trolls rule the rest of it. For them to attack our domain goes against the pact.”
Mag shrugged. “They forged a pact, and now they have broken it. It may be treacherous, but these are uncertain times.”
“This is not some petty squabble between human lords,” said Dryleaf. He leaned forwards in his chair, both hands wrapped tight around his staff. He looked suddenly very old. “The trolls first came into the mountains not long after Roth’s armies had conquered Underrealm. That is more than twelve hundreds of years ago. They came from the rocky deserts to the north. No one knows why. When they first came, Calentin tried to fight them, seeing them as just another invader. But the trolls were implacable, as well as being nearly impossible to kill—and even more so in those days, when no one had ever dealt with them before.
“In the end, a captain of the Calentin army first had the idea for a treaty with the trolls. Roth’s forces had forged the nine kingdoms, but conflict between kings did not end with the foundation of Underrealm. Calentin had long struggled to keep the Greatrocks secure against incursions from Feldemar, and their forces were stretched thin with the effort. The trolls could protect the mountains better than Calentin ever could, and they would mostly occupy lands that humankind could not settle anyway.”
Dryleaf paused for a moment, and then he turned his head in my direction. “That captain’s name was Albern, of the family Telfer. And for forging that ancient pact with the trolls, he and his descendants were named lords of the northern Greatrocks, where they live to this day.”
Mag looked at me in wonder, and I gave her an embarrassed smile. “Yes. That is where I took the name after my wending. I had heard tales of Albern of the family Telfer all my life. It was quite the legacy to live up to.” My smile dampened a bit. “Some in my family felt so overshadowed by our history, in fact, that it consumed them, and became more important to them than the present.”
The Tales of the Wanderer Volume One: A Book of Underrealm (The Underrealm Volumes 4) Page 40