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

by Garrett Robinson

  “No, ser,” said Mag and I.

  “Excellent.” Tou gave a small sigh and looked our squadrons over. “Get to work, then. You have much to do.”

  “Ser!” Mag and I snapped off salutes, which I thought were passingly suitable for how out of practice we were. Tou waved and left us, heading towards his other units.

  Each of us went to our squadrons. I eyed the archers before me critically, and Mag did the same with her swordfighters. My mind began to fall into old habits, and I noticed myself picking out those who stood poised and ready, those who seemed lost, and those who seemed lazy.

  “All right, recruits,” said Mag at last. “We have watched you dance. Now you will learn how to fight.”

  As we began our training, Dryleaf headed off into Taitou with Oku, seeking information. I led my squadron over to a row of targets, while Mag took hers to the practice rings. Some of the archers began to line up and prepare to fire, but I called them back.

  “Hold a moment. You know my name, but I have not learned any of yours. I can hardly instruct you if I must resort to calling out ‘You there!’ every time.” I pointed to the closest of them, a large man whose black skin and great height spoke of Feldemarian descent. His thick locs were bound into a tail that swayed when he moved. “What is your name?”

  He looked uncomfortably to either side of him as if making sure I was talking to him and not someone else. “Chausiku, ser.”

  “Well met, Chausiku,” I said. “If you do not mind my asking, why are you here?”

  Chausiku blinked. “Ser? I answered the call to defend Dorsea from—”

  “Forgive me, that is not what I meant,” I said. “I mean that you look to be at least ten hands tall, and your shoulders are almost as broad as my bow is long. Why are you here, in this squadron, rather than with the swordfighters?”

  His dark face darkened still further in a flush. “I am a hunter by trade, ser. I am skilled with a bow already, and I have never wielded a sword, and do not want to.”

  “Well, you shall have to learn, regardless,” I told him. “Bowcraft is all well and good, but if the enemy gets close, you shall be glad of a blade with which to defend yourself. Still, I am glad you are already familiar with your weapon. Who else here already knows something of archery?”

  Seven of them threw their hands up, but one woman did so faster than the rest. She was short and slight, with black hair cut to sweep forwards rakishly. Her skin looked only recently sun-browned, as though she were more used to spending her days indoors. Her eyes were sharp and focused on me like a hawk’s. I pointed to her. “You. What is your name?”

  “Jian, ser,” she said, lifting her chin slightly.

  “And where did you learn to shoot?”

  “My father was a hunter and a bowyer,” she said. “I studied bowcraft under him, and I still work with him in his shop.”

  “A bowyer!” I said, delighted. “I am one myself—or was, until almost a year ago. We shall have to trade techniques sometime.”

  “I would be glad to, ser,” she said. Then her smile twisted. “And I am not afraid to learn how to kill up close, as some others are.”

  That gave me pause, and I noticed another flush creeping into Chausiku’s cheeks—but this time from anger rather than embarrassment.

  “Well, I am afraid I must disappoint you, as well,” I said, and raised my voice to address the entire squadron. “The most important thing you will learn from me is not how to kill. That is something you will learn as an unfortunate matter of course. But I hope you will focus on another skill that is much more important. First and foremost, I will teach all of you how to stay alive.”

  Jian frowned and pushed her hair back off her forehead. “It seems to me that the best way to stay alive is to kill one’s enemy so that they are no threat.”

  “And do you imagine your enemy will stand there and let you plant an arrow in their eye?” I countered. “I would say rather that the best way to kill your foe is to stay alive long enough to do it. And besides, there are many more dangers in a campaign than the soldiers you will face on the battlefield. Hunger and cold, and especially disease, have killed far more soldiers than any battle in the long pages of history. Yet the bards will never sing songs of dysentery. Being a good soldier mostly means keeping yourself healthy until battle finally comes. If you do not learn how to survive a forced march, no tricks of archery I could teach you will be of the least use. Do you understand?”

  They gave me a scattered chorus of “Yes, ser.” Jian mumbled it along with the rest of them, but I wondered if she genuinely grasped my meaning, or if she even wished to. I decided to let it go for the moment. I was new to these people, and it is an inferior officer whose first action is to throw their weight around.

  “Very good,” I said. “Now, has anyone here fought before? Any veterans at all?”

  To my dismay, only one man raised his hand: a man slightly older than me, whose pale skin and flaming red hair and beard marked him as a Heddan. He looked around at the rest of the squadron, and he seemed surprised to be the only one with his hand up. That told me the unit had only recently formed, and most of them had not had time to meet or learn much about each other.

  “Well, that is one, at least,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment. “What is your name?”

  “Hallan, ser,” he said crisply, drawing up straight. He spoke with the rolling, lilting quality and strange affects of Hedgemond, and his great beard jumped when he talked. “I’m a veteran of King Kashonnel’s army in my youth, though thass nearly a score of years ago now. But I saw action, ser.”

  “I am glad to hear it,” I said. “Do you remember your training drills, Hallan?”

  He flashed a grin to reveal bright teeth, but also two gaps in them. “I’m sure they’ll come back quick, ser.”

  His smile was infectious, and I found myself returning it. “Very good. Then let us finish our instructions and get to work. We have much to do and not enough time for it.”

  I quickly learned the names of the rest of my squadron. But now, these many years later, I cannot remember all of them. That is the way of things, I fear, and the same is true for all the mercenary companies with which I ever fought. Memory is fickle. Unless a particular story stitched one of my companions tightly in my mind, I forgot them eventually.

  Mag and I launched into training our soldiers with great vigor. We set them to the drills we had done in the Upangan Blades. Victon had been an excellent officer, quickly able to turn even the greenest warriors into passable fighters.

  And the greenest warriors seemed to be what Kun had given us. Both Mag and I struggled to maintain hope through our dismay. Hallan was the only person in either of our units with any experience in a proper fighting force. I could not tell if Kun had stacked the deck against our success or if our soldiers were representative of the entire army. Something told me it was a combination of the two.

  From the start, I began to get a feel for the personalities of those in my squadron. Jian, for example, had a bit of a nasty streak and a frightful temperament.

  “You shoot for the head too often,” I told her once. “Of course, you will kill a foe if you strike them between the eyes, but it is a much smaller target. The chest is a more reliable hit, and it will remove your enemy from the fight just as quickly.”

  A savage twist came to her mouth, and I could not quite have called it a smile. “That seems sensible. But what about gut shots, then? I have heard those are likely to kill, and painfully. I would not mind letting these dark-damned traitors suffer before ending them.”

  I frowned. “They are painful, that is true. But still not as good as the chest. If you shoot for the gut, and your aim is low, you are likely to strike the belt or buckle. That may keep your shot from bringing them down. And if you are off by a wider margin, your arrow might pass between the legs and miss. We aim for the chest because it is the largest target, with the widest margin for error.”

  Again she nodded, and she
did not seem to notice my unease. “That is sensible, as well. The chest it is, then.” She showed her teeth for a moment and pushed back her rakish hair. “And then if I miss, I may be fortunate and hit the gut after all.”

  Chausiku was next to her in the line, and his locs swayed as he turned to glower down at her—far down, for she was less than eight hands tall. “Our purpose is not savagery,” he said. “We are here to save the kingdom, not become torturers.”

  Jian turned to face him. “I am here to punish traitors, not to coddle them.”

  “Enough, from both of you!” I snapped. “Turn your ire into action. Any more arguing, and you shall be running laps around the training grounds.”

  “Yes, ser,” grated Chausiku.

  “I am not afraid of running,” muttered Jian. But she turned her attention back to the practice targets, and Chausiku did the same.

  Hallan had a more challenging time with his drills at first. I stepped up behind him on that first day and watched as two of his shots whizzed by the dummy.

  “Rubbish,” he muttered, his beard twitching. Then he noticed me standing there and lowered his bow, straightening up. “Ser. What can I do for ye?”

  “I am only observing,” I told him. “You have good form. How long has it been since you practiced?”

  “Long enough that when last I did, my eyes still worked,” he groused. “Form’s easy enough, iss getting the target sighted thass tripping me up.”

  “Why do you not have spectacles?” I said. “Taitou may not be a great city, but surely there is a glass-weaver in town.”

  “Sure enough there is,” he said with a nod. “Juss never needed them much, I suppose. I’ve been a woodsman for years now, and I can see plenty well enough to bring down a tree. And iss simple living, so I never had much in the way of extra coin to pay for glass.”

  “Well, you shall need them if you are to fulfill your duty now,” I said. “And the coin for it can come from the Mystics. I will speak with Tou this evening and arrange it.”

  Hallan looked pleasantly surprised, and he bowed, his beard pushing into his chest. “Well, my thanks to you then, ser.” He grunted. “Spectacles, on my ugly old face. Who’d’ve guessed it.”

  It was not long before I came to treat Hallan as my unofficial second-in-command. He had a good head on his shoulders, and he could make peace if tensions rose among the squadron—particularly with Chausiku and Jian. When I relayed an order through him, my soldiers obeyed as if it had come straight from my mouth. I tried not to favor him too heavily, of course, for I feared the others might grow jealous. But in fact, I think it rather endeared me to them. They seemed to believe that if I relied on Hallan, I must be someone of sound judgement.

  But while I did my duty in training my archers, I was much more concerned with Mag’s swordfighters. Kun’s test would be combat in the ring, not a test of archery, and we had to pass.

  On the third day of our training, Tou came by for inspection. I saw him heading for Mag’s squadron, and I turned to Hallan.

  “Hallan, I am going to speak with the lieutenant,” I told him. “If you need me, send someone to fetch me.”

  “Yesser,” he said with a nod, and nocked another arrow.

  I went running after Tou and reached him just before he reached Mag’s unit. He saw me coming and gave a nod without asking why I was there; I suspect he could guess.

  Mag was standing at the edge of a ring, and two men were training in the middle of it. She looked up as Tou and I approached, and she snapped off a salute to him.

  “Ser.”

  “Sergeant,” said Tou. “How goes the training? Are you in need of anything?”

  “I would enjoy more time to work with them and at least one fighter who had seen action before,” said Mag. “But since I do not think those are things you can provide, I will not request them of you.”

  Tou nodded. “Fair enough. Sad to say, we are all somewhat green here. I myself have never seen combat on the field. The two of you may be the most experienced fighters in the whole force.” He pointed at the two men in the ring behind Mag. “Who are these?”

  Mag pointed to the younger combatant. He was a strong man, wearing a sleeveless shirt that left his bronzed arms glistening. His black hair was cropped close and dripping with sweat. As I watched, he swiped the sweat away, never taking his eyes from his foe.

  “That is Dibu,” said Mag. “His opponent is Jie. They are among the better specimens in my squadron. I have tried to pair each fighter up with someone close to them in skill so that all of them get the most benefit from each training session.”

  Dibu lunged, swinging a horizontal strike. Jie got his shield up, but Dibu managed to catch the edge of it. Jie’s shield arm flew wide. As he stumbled back, Dibu pressed forwards. His blade circled around and up towards Jie’s face.

  I tensed, but Dibu controlled the swipe. It stopped just short of Jie’s eye. Jie recoiled, and his foot came down in a puddle of slushy snow. While he was off balance, Dibu kicked his gut. Jie fell, his sword and shield clattering from his hands. Dibu stepped up and pointed his blade at the larger man’s face.

  “Good!” called Mag. “Reset, and do it again. Jie, you must study your battlefield always. Know where your footing is safe, and where it is precarious. Mud can win a fight faster than skill.”

  “Yesser,” said Jie.

  He reached out a hand, and Dibu helped pull him to his feet. But when Dibu looked over to see the three of us there watching him, including Tou, he suddenly seemed embarrassed. His bronzed face flushed, and he quickly turned away.

  Tou cleared his throat. “That one does not like performing,” he said, stroking his goatee. “Yet he focused well enough during the fight. Who else do you count among your best?”

  Mag arched an eyebrow and motioned for Tou and me to follow her. “I have one of particular note. Her name is Li. She has never fought in a real battle before, but her mother was a soldier in King Jun’s army, and she taught Li many forms. Between that and the girl’s natural talent, Li certainly has the greatest skill of anyone in my squadron. I expect to rely on her to help me teach the rest of them.”

  I could see at once that Mag spoke true. Li was paired up with another woman, and both of them were light of build but wiry. Yet Li was far more quick and nimble on her feet than her opponent, darting back and forth like a serpent. First her blade was above, then below, and then sweeping in from the side. It was all her opponent could do to keep the sword away from her padded armor, and she could not do so forever.

  With the speed of liquid thunder, Li spun around her foe’s clumsy strike. The flat of her blade crashed into the small of the other woman’s back. She fell facedown in the dirt. Immediately Li straightened, heaved a deep breath, and sheathed her sword.

  “A good strike,” called Tou. Both women snapped around to look at him. “But you relented the moment you had an advantage. You cannot do the same thing in a real fight.”

  Li’s eyes widened, and she bowed. “Of course, ser. It is just … well, I already felled her.”

  “And an enemy felled can rise once more if you do not finish them,” said Mag. “Again. And this time, do not pull back until the fight is over.” She waved at the two of them to begin and then turned to confer with Tou and me.

  “She moves like you, Mag,” I told her.

  Mag looked somewhat miffed. “She is quick enough on her feet, I suppose.”

  “Well, everything seems to be in order,” said Tou. “Better than in order, in fact. I still do not entirely understand why the captain made this wager with you, but I find myself hoping you will win.”

  “As do we, ser,” I said. “Do you have any advice for us? Any tips that might secure a victory?”

  Tou shrugged. “I have no hidden information, if that is what you mean. The terms are rather clear, and the captain seems confident you shall not beat him. I can do little more than encourage you to do your best, and hope.”

  I sighed. “Well, if that is the
best we can do, then we shall do it. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

  Tou nodded and left us. I looked to Mag.

  “What do you think? Do we have a chance?”

  Mag looked at Li, who was again trading blows with her opponent in the ring.

  “A chance? Mayhap. Ask me again in a few more days.”

  But of course, Mag and I were not the only ones joining together with allies.

  To the north of us, close to the Feldemarian border, Rogan had encamped with many of his soldiers. As I have mentioned, they were the ones raiding into Feldemar. They crossed the border in Dorsean uniforms, attacking farms and the caravans of lesser merchant families. In this way, they had been fomenting discord between the two kingdoms and drawing King Jun’s attention to the area. This distracted Jun from the coup that Wojin had been planning under his very nose.

  Now that open war had broken out in the kingdom, however, Rogan’s strategy would change radically. And it was while he was concocting these plans that Kaita found him at last.

  Rogan stepped out of his broad tent and into the open air, walking through the center of the camp. All around him, Shades stopped in their tracks and saluted, hands over their fists. He nodded to each, giving them a stern smile that warmed their hearts.

  But as he neared the center of the camp, it seemed as if a thought struck him. His steps faltered, slowed, and then stopped. Though no one else had heard anything, Rogan tilted his head back to look into the sky, and the faint smile on his lips fell away.

  A raven swooped out of the grey clouds to land on the dirt before him. Some Shades looked on curiously, and then their eyes bugged with surprise as Kaita emerged from the bird’s form. But Rogan looked as if he had expected her.

  “Kaita,” he said. Warm. Welcoming. Grief-stricken.

  “Brother,” said Kaita through a raspy throat.

  She had been ragged five days ago when she received Rogan’s summons. She looked worse now. Her clothes were new, but she was dirty and wasted, and gaunt beyond what Rogan had ever seen of her. Still she tried to stand tall, her head up and her shoulders back. But it was a poor showing, and her limbs shook with the effort of attempting it.