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

by Garrett Robinson

  “Of course it sounds unlikely,” said Dryleaf diplomatically. “We would say the same thing, if we had not heard of something like it before. Word reached Opara of the Shades doing something similar in Dorsea. They hatched a plan around a magic ritual, one that summoned vampires and drove them into a frenzy of hunger. A town near the Greatrocks was almost destroyed, and would have been, if not for the actions of a few brave heroes.”

  Mag’s mouth twitched.

  “Vampires?” said Maia incredulously. “No one can command those savage beasts.”

  “Yet they did,” said Dryleaf, bowing his head. “I hope, then, that you can understand why we think they may have something to do with the trolls.”

  “That is evil news, if it is true,” said Ditra. “Yet I have never heard of, and cannot imagine, any such ritual that would command a troll.”

  “Nor have we,” said Mag. “Yet we suspect it all the same. It was one thing we hoped to learn on our expedition. If we are correct, it is a clear pattern—a strategy the Shades may be using in other places, in other kingdoms, even now.”

  Ditra tapped her chin with one finger. “Stirring up creatures from the wilds to sow chaos and disruption … these are the tactics of a foe fighting a war of stealth and subterfuge.”

  “Guerilla tactics,” said Mag with a nod.

  “They cannot stand toe-to-toe with the High King, and so they instigate battles between her armies and other forces, to supplement their numbers.” Ditra slid her hands along the arms of her chair and pushed her shoulders back, stretching. “If this is part of their strategy, it will be very useful information in the coming days. I will send word of this to the king, and advise them to relay it to the High King.”

  We all bowed deeply. “Thank you, Rangatira,” said Dryleaf. “You prove yourself wise beyond your years—or at least, so I guess from the sound of your voice.”

  Ditra gave a little smile—almost, it seemed, against her will—and said, “Thank you, Grandfather.” Then her eyes swept across us again. “So you and the quiet one in the back are rangers?”

  Dryleaf and Mag paused for a moment that stretched too long. I realized that they were reluctant to answer, afraid they would miss some intricacy of Calentin politics and make a misstep. Though I badly wished to hold my tongue, I spoke. “No, Lord Telfer. Simple soldiers. We have no marks.”

  “So he has not fallen asleep back there,” said Ditra. I ducked my head lower, hoping it looked like I was embarrassed, and not trying to hide my face. “I can believe the two of you are soldiers, especially since you have Conrus’ writ.” She turned to Dryleaf. “But I think your fighting days are behind you, if you will forgive my saying so—was it Dryleaf?”

  “It was, and it is, Rangatira,” said Dryleaf, smiling broadly. “And you are correct. I am one of Conrus’ advisors. In my youth I had many dealings with the Mystics, and I learned from them many secrets of dealing with rogue wizards. These two are sellswords working for hire.”

  I winced, but it was too late. At the word “sellswords,” Ditra’s small smile vanished, to be replaced with a dour expression.

  “Strange that Conrus would trust mercenaries with such an important task,” said Ditra. “Stranger still that he would relay to them the information he had received from the High King. Foolish, one might even say.”

  “We have served him for many long years,” I said quickly. “The Rangatira knows he can trust in our discretion. Indeed, we would have joined his rangers long ago. But we were somewhat involved in a disagreement with him and the Rangatira Hauru of Tonga, and Lord Matara was reluctant to bring us into his service, for fear of causing offense.”

  Ditra’s stern look did not relax any, but she did lean back in her chair with a sigh. “Sky save us all from politicking,” she said irritably.

  “On which point we could not agree more,” said Dryleaf. “And I hope you will believe me when I say that I have rarely encountered two more worthy soldiers in all my years of being a councilor. And with that, I believe we have taken up as much of your doubtless precious time as can be spared. Though if you wish it, I would be honored to sing for your dining hall tonight, or any night that you would have me.”

  She seemed to be more irritated than ever, though she still maintained a thin veneer of decorum. “I do not wish it. My position leaves me no time to sit idly and listen to songs.”

  Mag, sensing the tension in the room, spoke again. “In that case, Lord Telfer, we would beg your leave. We should set about our business of tracking down this weremage. With your permission, of course.”

  “Normally, I would not give it,” said Ditra. “This matter has moved into Tokana, which means it falls to me to settle it. But my rangers are already stretched thin to ensure none of my people are harmed by the trolls. Therefore I will permit you to continue your hunt. You may speak with my lead ranger, Maia, if you require anything from us.” She waved a hand at him, and he gave us a slow nod. “I will also order the soldiers of my house to be on the alert while they patrol. They know the Shades’ colors, but any information you have on the weremage would be useful.”

  “She has Calentin features,” said Mag. “When we have seen her in human form, she has worn her long black hair in a braid down her back.”

  “That narrows it down not a whit,” said Ditra. “What of her animal forms?”

  “We have seen two, though there may be others,” said Mag. “A raven, and a brown mountain lion with a white tail.”

  Ditra did not respond to that. Her eyes did not widen, her hands did not clench. I doubt that Mag or Dryleaf noticed anything change in her appearance. But I sensed something in her demeanor. Maia, however, did not give her a second glance, and I told myself I must have imagined it.

  “That is something to go on, at least,” said Ditra. “I will relay it to my rangers. You are dismissed.”

  “Thank you, Rangatira,” said Dryleaf, bowing low once again. Mag and I did the same, and then I took Dryleaf’s arm, guiding him along as I followed Mag out of the room.

  I managed to keep my expression impassive as we made our way out of the stronghold and into the city streets. But I could not keep my grip on the emptiness inside of me forever. Once we were out of sight of my family’s home, hot tears slid from me, and my arm began to shake under Dryleaf’s hand.

  “There now,” said Dryleaf gently. “We will be back soon.”

  Mag looked over her shoulder at his words, and when she saw my face, she came to me at once. “Here,” she said softly. “I will take him.”

  She gently lifted Dryleaf’s hand from my arm and placed it on her own. I cast my hood down lower and wept, trying to stay silent at first, but in the end I let myself feel the grief that had been building up in me since I first saw Ditra on my mother’s chair. When we reached the inn at last, Oku came bounding up, but he seemed to sense my mood and did not bark at us. Once we reached our room, I sat on the edge of the bed and cast my face into my hands. Mag helped Dryleaf to a chair in the corner, shrugged off her shirt of scale mail, and then came to sit by me, wrapping her arm around my shoulders and pulling my head to her chest. Dryleaf bowed his head, and the two of them sat in silence while I poured my woe into Mag’s tunic. She did not speak a word, but only held me tighter, occasionally patting my hair. Oku curled up at my feet, his head resting on my boot.

  It did not take all that long, considering. I had mourned the loss of my mother long ago—though because she had not been truly gone, there was always at least some hope that we might reconcile our differences. What I mourned in that moment was the loss of that hope. The knowledge was heavy upon me that it was over now, and things would never be right between us.

  And, too, I wept for the sight of my sister. My sweet, loving sister, the only one who had comforted me when the world had not cared, now sitting in our mother’s chair, and every bit as hard as she had ever been.

  But at last my tears subsided. I scrubbed the last of them away on my sleeve, shaking my head and trying to brin
g myself back to the moment.

  “Thank you,” I said quietly. “Thank you both.”

  “You have nothing to thank us for, dear boy,” said Dryleaf. “You have had a hard day.”

  “We do not have to talk now,” said Mag. “If you need time—”

  “I do not,” I said. “I would rather get to work. It will keep my mind from matters of grief.”

  “As you say,” said Dryleaf carefully.

  “Do you think my idea unwise?” I said, trying not to sound irritated.

  “I think that open wounds need time to close, or they may become aggravated,” he said. “And that goes for others as well. The Rangatira still harbors some grief.”

  “She seemed very comfortable on that chair,” I said bitterly.

  “She sounded like a lord secure in her position, it is true,” said Dryleaf. He paused before continuing, picking at a thread on the knee of his robe. “Are you certain you do not wish to tell her you have returned?”

  “No,” I said at once. “She would not react well.”

  Dryleaf subsided. I could almost taste his unspoken questions, but he had enough sense, bless him, to let them be.

  “Then if we are resolved, let us speak of what has happened,” said Mag. “We know the weremage is in the wilds to the north.”

  “And we can guess that she was watching us before that,” I said. “That means she will know where to find us. We should find new lodgings, quickly, before she has time to put a new watch upon us.”

  “Will that help?” said Dryleaf. “If we mean to go out into the wilds again, we will encounter her eventually. Then she can take her bird form again, and follow us back to wherever we are.”

  Mag frowned. “That is a fair point. But we must have some way to ensure you are safe when we are not here.”

  “You are worried about me?” said Dryleaf, smiling broadly. “You two are the ones riding out into danger.”

  “And leaving you unguarded,” I said.

  He waved his hand. “Why would the weremage care about me? Besides, this room is just next to the inn’s common room, and the lock on the door is sturdy. She could not hope to strike me here without causing quite a bit more trouble than she has seemed to seek thus far.”

  “Very well,” I said. “But you must be wary. That ranger in Opara had many wise things to say about trust and weremages. We will establish a password, and you must never unlock the door for either of us until we have spoken it.”

  “If it will make you feel better,” said Dryleaf, inclining his head magnanimously.

  “Then we should set back out and continue searching the site of the trolls’ attacks,” I said. “Not today—it has grown too late. But tomorrow, and every day, until we have tracked down the weremage.”

  “And ended her,” said Mag.

  “So we all hope.” I paused, looking down at my hands as they rested in my lap.

  Mag smiled. “Very well. Let us continue with our original plan. Back into the mountains tomorrow. The way will be easy without having to worry about Lord Telfer’s patrols rounding us up.”

  “Easy,” I said with a bitter smile. “I only hope we do not encounter any trolls in those mountains. If we do, you will learn just how ‘easy’ they are to deal with.”

  While we conferred at the inn, Lord Telfer was having her own discussion with Maia. It turned out that I had not, in fact, imagined her reaction when we told her of the weremage’s animal forms. For a long while after we left, she sat in her chair, chin resting on her fist, her eyes seeing nothing. Maia stood silently by, knowing it would be foolish to disturb her until she was ready for him. In the end she sighed and stood from her chair.

  “Let us retire to my chamber,” she said. “We must discuss these matters.”

  “Of course, Rangatira,” said Maia, giving a half-bow. He followed her to the back of the room, to the door leading to a staircase up to her private chamber. There Maia moved towards the chairs surrounding her table, but Ditra walked past them to her window, and Maia stayed on his feet. Another long silence dominated the room.

  “Wine, Rangatira?” said Maia at last.

  “Hm,” she said.

  Deciding to interpret her answer in the affirmative, he poured two cups. She took a sip when he put hers into her hand, but her gaze remained fixed out the window. Maia joined her in looking at the valley. From this vantage point, high in the keep’s central tower, they could see almost the whole dale. The day was still cloudy and grey, and the sun was lowering behind them, but it still gave more than enough light to see signs of movement far below. Thousands of people milling together, going about their lives.

  But Maia knew, though he could not see it, that there were refugees in the city, servants of his lord who had been forced to flee their homes, and who now choked the streets, the inns, anywhere they could find to sleep. Kahaunga looked much the same as it always did, but there was an unrest in the city now, a fear under the surface, and a tension that threatened to burst, like the snowy clouds in the sky above them.

  For her part, Ditra’s thoughts were only partially for the city. Mag and I had brought her evil tidings, and she was pondering them. But apart from our news, she was thinking of me. She could not understand why her thoughts should so dwell on a quiet man in a brown cloak standing behind his companions, who were clearly leading our little mission. She had gotten a good enough look at me to know that I was half Calentin and half Heddish, but that was common enough, especially in Tokana.

  In the end, her thoughts turned away from me to the weremage. A weremage who took the form of a brown mountain lion with a white tail.

  Sky above, thought Ditra. After all these years.

  At last she nodded, as though in answer to a question. Maia stood straighter. He knew his lord. She had decided something, or she was ready to do so.

  “Yes, Rangatira?” he prompted.

  “You have been seeing to the patrols and organizing the housing of those who have had to flee from the outer villages,” said Ditra. “You must give those duties to another. I require something else of you.”

  “Of course,” said Maia. “What is it?”

  “I need you to track down this weremage.”

  Maia was somewhat surprised, but he hid it well. “As you wish. I shall be working with the newcomers, then?”

  “No,” snapped Ditra, turning on him with such a furious glare that he swallowed through a suddenly dry throat. “No,” she said again, less angrily, taking a deep drink of her wine. “You must do this on your own. Find her, if she can be found in the wilderness. Find out where she is and what she is doing. Take no action against her until you have done this and reported back to me.”

  “As you command,” said Maia. “But Rangatira … the newcomers are searching for her as well.”

  Ditra lifted her chin as she regarded him. “Are you a ranger of the family Telfer, or are you not? I am certain they are capable fighters, if Conrus took them into his service. But they are strangers to this place. They do not know these mountains. You will find Kaita before they do.”

  Maia frowned. “Kaita?”

  Ditra went very, very still.

  “The weremage,” she said after a moment. “They mentioned her name was Kaita.”

  For a moment, Maia was unsure how to answer. Of course we had not mentioned that her name was Kaita, and Maia knew it. But the look in his lord’s eyes told him he would be most unwise to mention it.

  “That must have escaped my notice,” he said at last.

  “See that it escapes any mention as well,” said Ditra. “Tell no one what you are doing. And if you discover anything about the weremage or her whereabouts, you are to bring it to me immediately. Do you understand?”

  “Of course, Rangatira.” Maia gave a low bow. “If I may ask, does this have anything to do with—”

  “You may not.” Ditra turned from him to look out the window again. “We are done.”

  Maia bowed once more, though she did not see it, and
then he left.

  “I have a question,” said Sun.

  Albern smiled. “I enjoy your questions immensely.”

  “You hardly ever answer them,” said Sun with a frown.

  “Sometimes that is what makes them enjoyable.”

  Sun rolled her eyes and drank more of her beer. They had both finished their meals long ago. “You said you were going to tell me another story about Mag. But this story seems to be about you.”

  He seemed to consider that for a long moment, pursing his lips and nodding. “Yes. Yes, I suppose it is. This part of the tale took place in my homeland. A great deal more happened to me—at least in my own mind—than happened to Mag. Are you not enjoying the tale?”

  So disarming was his smile that Sun felt he would truly not be offended, no matter her answer. But the truth was that she was quite enjoying it. And yet hearing of the manner of his return, the way he had been marched into his own home like a prisoner, had caused her own chest to grow tight, her breath catching in her throat.

  “The thought of returning as you did terrifies me,” she said. “I almost felt ill when you described it.”

  He nodded. “It may be the freshness of the parting that makes you feel so. You may feel differently in twenty years. In fact, I hope you do. Because whatever else may be said about my return to Calentin, it was good for me, in the end.”

  Just as Sun was about to ask him what he meant, a voice spoke nearby. “Are you boring some poor girl to death with tales, young man?”

  Sun gave a start and looked up. Standing just beside the table, so close it seemed impossible Sun could not have heard her approach, was a woman. She looked to be somewhat younger than Albern. Her dark skin and long locks of hair spoke of Feldemarian descent, but she wore robes of gold, trimmed with white. Her face was round and soft, and she filled out her robes nicely, her form falling to the floor in wide curves like the bouncing of a child’s ball.