It was in the town of Huzen, not too far from the coast of the Great Bay, that we began to rethink our plan. We were in a tavern called the Spiced Fiddle, and Dryleaf had his boots off with his stockinged feet up near the fire. Any chance to rest near a hearth, safe from the freezing rain, now felt like a luxury.
The old man had sung earlier, and then he had given me a turn. I had performed my song about Jordel. Dryleaf and I had worked on it ever since I first shared it with him in Tokana, and I had been performing it in taverns for some weeks. Mag, bless her, did not poke fun at me over it, for she could sense how dear to my heart it was. Indeed, the first few times I had sung it in a tavern’s common room, I had been unable to finish, and I soon fell weeping back into my chair. But enough repetition had allowed me to keep my tears from falling, though my heart was still heavy as I sat with my friends and discussed our options.
“Mayhap we have been taking the wrong approach,” said Dryleaf. “We have avoided large cities thus far, for there are too many prying eyes. Yet at the same time, there are a great many listening ears, and also discerning minds to sift the truth from lies. Mayhap we would find better information in Danfon, or one of the cities on the coast. We might even take a small detour to the High King’s Seat. I know some folk there who are able to gather news from all across the nine kingdoms.”
Slowly Mag shook her head. “I am not sure that is wise,” she said. “If Kaita, or the Shades, are indeed here in northeastern Dorsea, we would waste a great deal of time going all the way to the Seat. Do we not know anyone else who could help us? Someone closer?”
“I do not,” said Dryleaf. “The only place I can think of would be Danfon, and that is farther away than the Seat.”
“That would be no help, then,” I said. “Mayhap we should not go seeking out cities after all. Three of the Shade encampments we found were quite removed from civilization. Mayhap we need to turn away from towns and hamlets and seek them in the wild.”
“Oh?” said Mag, arching an eyebrow. “And where in the wild would you have us look? I am no ranger like you, of course, but I have heard the wilderness is rather large.”
I glowered at her. “I am no ranger. What would you have us do, then? Dryleaf suggests the cities, and you say they are too far. I suggest unclaimed lands, and you say they are too large. Let us hear your proposal, then.”
“Why not simply carry on?” said Mag. “We do not know but that our current course will bring us to our enemies.”
“Yet we have no reason to think it will,” I snapped. “It is only a vague hope that great fortune will befall us.”
Mag frowned at me. “Just as it did in Lan Shui.”
I threw my hands in the air. “Oh, certainly. One out of four times.”
“Now, now,” said Dryleaf. “She may have a point, boy. The wide world is too large for us to search completely. And cities—or smaller towns,” he said hastily, nodding in Mag’s direction, “have one great advantage: they are peopled. If the Shades cause trouble in the wilderness, and we come to the place a week later, the trees and beasts will offer us precious little information. But if the Shades’ actions affect a settlement of any size, the news will linger long enough for us to find it. It will even spread.”
I gritted my teeth. That was a good point, though I was not quite ready to admit it. But I was saved from having to answer by a blast of horns outside the tavern.
I shot to my feet. Dryleaf sat up straight, clutching his walking stick. All around us, the tavern’s patrons froze and looked anxiously towards the door. Then they began to move, some towards the outside, and some upstairs to their rooms. My mind gave a sickening wrench as I remembered the day Northwood fell.
“An attack?” I said, my voice gruff to hide my fear.
“It could be the Shades,” said Dryleaf. “You two should go. I will be safe here.”
“Get yourself to our room, at least,” I said. He hastened to obey.
My bow rested against the wall, and I strung it quickly. As I did, Mag’s battle-trance came over her. When I finished, she hefted her spear and shield.
“Outside,” she intoned.
I followed her, slinging my belt quiver on and pulling an arrow from it. We burst through the door into the street, where we found Oku trotting nervously around. He gave a happy bark when he saw us and padded over to stand between us.
“Good boy,” I said, patting his head. “Now, what in the sky is going on?”
A scene of chaos greeted us. Armed soldiers were killing each other in the streets. Thankfully, most of the fighting was a good distance away from the inn itself. I half-drew my arrow, but I stopped. There were no cloaks of blue in sight, nor any grey-clad fighters.
“I see no Shades,” I said.
“Nor do I,” said Mag in the toneless voice of her battle-trance. “It could be Dulmun.”
“No, wait,” I said. “Look at them, Mag. Every fighter wears the livery of Dorsea. The town’s guards are fighting each other.”
It was true. To a one, the soldiers before us wore the red and yellow of Dorsea. How did any of them know who to attack?
“Mayhap they are Shades in disguise?” said Mag in confusion. With no target for her spear, she had let the trance slip away.
“Mayhap,” I said. A sick feeling was growing in my stomach. Something was wrong here, worse than it had been in Lan Shui or Tokana. “No way for us to tell. We should retrieve Dryleaf and flee.”
Mag spun to me. “Flee?”
I pointed at the fighting. “How can we join the battle when we do not know who is on which side, much less which side is the right one? And what if the wrong side wins? Do you think we will be safe here in Huzen?”
“Very well,” said Mag. “But where do we go?”
“We need not worry about the direction yet,” I said. “This foe approaches from within, and so we must get ourselves without.”
We ran back inside and fetched Dryleaf from the room. He took my arm and followed us down the stairs.
“What is it?” he said as we went. “Who is attacking?”
“We do not know,” I said. “Dorsean soldiers are fighting each other in the streets. We have to leave the town.”
His bushy brows drew together. “Dorsean soldiers …?” he said slowly.
“We have no more answers than that,” I said. Mag threw open the inn’s door, and we stepped out into the street. “And I would rather discover them from a place of safety, than in the midst of—”
“You! Halt!”
Two soldiers stood before us. The fighting had moved closer to the inn now. The guards who challenged us stood over a man’s gutted body. He was wearing the same uniform as them. Now they raised their swords, approaching step by step.
“Go back inside. Now!”
Mag’s spear came up, her voice toneless again. “That is not going to happen.”
One of them, a bulky man with a scraggly beard, snarled at her. “We are servants of the true king, and you will obey our commands.” He rolled his shoulder, the tip of his blade moving in a lazy circle. “Unless you are traitors, in league with the pretender?”
True king? Pretender? What was going on here?
The second guard had stepped to the side, and I was very aware of how close her sword was to Dryleaf. I nudged the old man behind me. Oku bristled and growled at the woman. But while I hesitated, trying to determine the right course of action, Mag had no such hesitation. She pounced on the bearded man. For a terrible moment, I feared she would kill him, but she only struck him down with the butt of her spear. He fell, stunned but not quite senseless, and Mag kicked his sword far out of reach.
The woman put up a better fight, managing to trade two blows with Mag. But then the spontoon’s tip came around, and Mag slammed the flat of it into the woman’s temple with a crushing blow. She fell to the mud of the street, poleaxed. Her limp body now lay in the pool of blood from the guard they had killed right before we arrived.
“What in the dark below
is this?” I said.
“No time to find out,” said Mag. “The horses.”
All the stablehands had fled, so we fetched our mounts and rode hard for the west gate. Though we avoided the fighting where we could, sometimes we had to gallop straight through the battle. It was a horrible reminder of Northwood. I kept a tight hand on the reins of Dryleaf’s horse. He clung to the saddle, bent over his mount’s neck to make himself as small a target as possible. I wondered how terrifying this must be for him, hearing only clashing blades and death screams.
The western gate was closed. Four Dorsean guards stood before it, with halberds held forwards in warning. I thought I recognized them from when we had come into the town hours ago.
“Halt!” cried one who seemed braver than the rest. At least her hands were not shaking. “No one is leaving the town!”
“We only wish to escape the fighting!” I called back as we reined in our horses before them. “We are simple travelers. This battle has nothing to do with us.”
“No one is leaving,” she repeated, and her voice was grim. “By order of the mayor.”
I sighed and looked at Mag. “Do you wish to …”
“I do not wish to, but I will,” she said, and she dismounted.
The soldiers, bless them, stepped towards us, for they saw a clear threat in Mag’s stance. But when they thrust their halberds at her, the space where she had stood was suddenly empty. She darted between their stabs and ducked beneath their slashes. Though they were well trained, Mag’s grace made them look clumsy and foolish. Oku edged forwards, though he seemed reluctant to join her in the fight.
“Kip, Oku,” I said. “She does not need us.”
Oku sat.
Mag’s spear lashed out three times, and one by one, the guards fell. She did not slash or pierce them but knocked them senseless with the butt or the flat of the blade.
Soon only the guard who had challenged us remained, and now her hands did shake. She took two steps back, and now she was up against the town wall.
“No one is permitted to leave!” she cried, voice trembling and eyes wide.
Mag’s brow furrowed, as it might have at a growling puppy. Then she knocked the woman’s halberd out of her grip and caught both her wrists in one hand. Pushing her up against the gate, she held the haft of the spontoon across her throat.
“Now then,” said Mag. “Suppose you tell us what under the sky is going on.”
The girl gritted her teeth and tried to free her hands, but she could no more move than she could have taken flight. I saw the moment the spark went out of her. Her shoulders sagged, and a held breath escaped her in a sigh.
“No one knows,” said the woman. “Not for certain.”
“Suppose you tell us what you suspect, or what you have heard,” said Dryleaf. “That might be just as useful.”
“And if I do not?” she said, glaring at Mag.
“I will not kill you,” said Mag easily. “But I will have to give you the same headache I gave your companions, and we will leave the town regardless. I would rather not do that. We are no evil folk, but merely confused, and likely more so than you are.”
“That hardly seems possible,” snorted the woman.
She had stopped struggling against Mag’s grip, and so Mag released her wrists and took a step back. But I saw that her foot stayed close to the halberd, ready to kick it away if the woman should reach for it.
The guard rolled her head and felt gingerly at her throat, where Mag’s spear had pressed against it. “Thank you. In answer to your question … word has reached Huzen that King Jun is dead. May he be safe in the darkness. Wojin has taken the throne.”
“Dead?” said Dryleaf. “How?”
The woman’s face turned sour like old milk. “Wojin says the High King sent an assassin.”
I could only stare at her. That was patently ridiculous. What possible reason could the High King have had for such an act?
“Who is this Wojin you speak of?” I asked the woman. “I do not know that name.”
But it was Dryleaf who answered. “He is—or was—Jun’s uncle.” He cocked his head. “But he is not next in the line of succession. That would be His Excellency, Prince Senlin. What happened to him?”
“Wojin says that the High King’s assassins killed him as well,” said the guard, her eyes flashing. “But I do not believe it, and neither did my companions, and neither does the mayor. We are servants of the king, not Wojin and his hired thugs. It is Wojin’s men who have attacked the town, for the mayor refuses to swear fealty to him. He thinks—and I agree—that Wojin staged a coup.”
“With help from the Shades,” said Mag, her eyes widening.
The guard turned to her, incredulous. “How do you know that?”
“We do not know it,” I said. “Not for certain. But we are roughly as certain of it as you are that the High King did not have King Jun killed.”
Mag grimaced at me. “It would seem, then,” she said slowly, “that these are loyalists to Jun, the true king.” She bowed her head to the woman. “I would never have attacked you if I had known. I beg your forgiveness—and theirs.”
I held up a hand. “To be fair to ourselves, we did ask politely to leave, at first. And in that spirit, please apologize to your friends on our behalf, when they wake up with bruises.”
“I shall consider doing so,” said the guard. She eyed her halberd, but if she thought to seize it, it was only for a wistful moment. She motioned us forwards. “Go on, then, since I clearly cannot stop you.”
In a moment, I had the gate up, while Mag kept a wary eye on the woman, just in case. Then we were through and out into the open countryside, while Huzen burned in battle behind us.
But as the guard went to rouse her comrades and rally them to the fight, two more figures slipped out the gate. They faded into the wilderness at once, following the tracks of our horses. One of them had a heavy scar on his left cheek.
We rode west until Huzen was out of sight, and then we rode a while longer, for safety. On a bank overlooking a small stream, we pitched our tents to camp overnight. Mag watered the horses while I took a hatchet and began cutting wood for a fire. I ended up cutting more than we needed. It felt good to slam my hatchet into the wood over and over again, taking out my frustration at our formless foe and rapidly worsening circumstance.
All the while, Dryleaf sat on a rock, his sightless eyes staring into nothing. “A civil war,” he said after a time. “A civil war in Dorsea. Something I never thought to see.”
“Nor did any of us, I am certain,” said Mag. “Yet war threatens all of Underrealm.”
“Conflict between two kingdoms is one thing,” said Dryleaf. “Even the rebellion of a king against the High King—well, while it is hardly common, neither is it unheard of. But a king’s soldiers killing each other in the streets … that is something else. In the turmoil of these times, I fear conflicts like these will cause the greatest harm: a nation turned on itself, kin against kin. Such a thing has hardly been seen since the days of Roth himself.”
“I have no doubt the Shades are behind it,” I said.
“Of course,” said Mag with a shrug. “They have been behind every crisis we have seen on our long road.”
Dryleaf sighed. “I am sure you are both right. It fairly stinks of their work. They have perfected the art of sending others to do their fighting for them.”
“If only they would show their faces,” said Mag. “I would give much to capture even one of them, to trace our way to Kaita.”
“But now she will be heavily protected,” said Dryleaf. “She must have rejoined her allies. Thus our way seems unclear. What are we to do?”
“Find Kaita,” said Mag at once.
“Without getting ourselves killed,” I added.
She smiled. “In a perfect world, yes.”
“Mag.”
“Dearest Albern.”
“Mag.”
“I am mostly joking.”
“Ma
g.”
Dryleaf wore a frown, and he began to stroke his beard. “Mayhap Kaita should not be our focus—our primary focus, I mean, for the time being.”
I arched a brow. “Oh? What do you have in mind?”
“We could seek Loren,” said Dryleaf. “Kaita has allies now—and even more than we thought if Dorsea now works with the Shades. Mayhap we should acquire some friends of our own.”
Mag’s levity vanished in an instant. A very curious expression came over her—uncertainty, anxiety, and … and something else I could not quite identify. I frowned as she shook her head.
“Loren and the others could be anywhere,” she said at last. “Who knows how long it would take to find them? What strength might Kaita gather to herself in that time?”
I hesitated. That reasoning made sense. Yet I could not shake an uneasy feeling that there was more to it. Mag almost seemed to feel … guilty.
Dryleaf’s expression had fallen, and he shook his head. “My dear, I think we must be honest with ourselves. We have lost too much time already. It has been two months since we saw Kaita last. If she wished to vanish forever, hiding in some far kingdom where we will never find her, she could have done that by now. If she wished to surround herself with allies, she could have done that as well. We can hardly worsen our situation by spending more time, especially if we spend it strengthening ourselves for the fight to come.”
Mag had been resting her spear across her knees. Now she seized it, shot to her feet, and threw it into a tree five paces away. The spearhead stuck in the trunk, quivering, as Mag’s hands balled to fists at her sides.
“Mag!” I said, frowning.
“What?” she growled.
“You may not like it, but you have to admit he is—”
“I know he is right, Albern.” Suddenly her shoulders sagged. “Of course I know it. I have been thinking of little else for the last month. Sometimes I hardly know why we are even here in northeastern Dorsea. Chasing some half-baked notion from a Rangatira? We have nothing. Nothing at all. And even now, with civil war breaking out, there is no sign of the Shades. I am … I am tired.”
The Tales of the Wanderer Volume One: A Book of Underrealm (The Underrealm Volumes 4) Page 62