“Captain,” said Tou, taking the seat opposite. “Thank you.”
“Of course. We all spent enough time on our feet today.” Kun’s smile widened. “I have been thinking of your sergeant’s little … outburst today.”
Tou’s face darkened. “Ser. I spoke with them immediately after our council. I assigned Mag’s squadron to latrine duty for the next three days, and I gave Albern and Yue strict warnings about—”
Kun cut him off with a raised hand. “All appropriate reactions. But I find myself thinking of Mag and her purpose for being here. Purpose drives us, Lieutenant. None take the red and rods but those who have a desire to protect the nine kingdoms—or none should, at any rate. Some soldiers in this force have joined for the coin, but most are here for some other reason. I am sure there are as many reasons as there are soldiers in our force. But those purposes align in one factor: a love of Dorsea. That is what makes them invaluable to us, and through us, to the High King. And we should not disparage the varied reasons that brought them under our command, if those reasons may be aligned towards our common goal.”
Tou ducked his head. “Of course, ser. But … forgive me, but why do you tell me all this?”
A long moment passed in silence. Then Kun sighed. “I mean to let your sergeants go hunting for the Shades.”
Of all the things Tou expected to hear, that was not among them. “Ser?”
“I mean it,” said Kun. “Sergeant Telfer is an excellent tracker. Lieutenant Zhou is better, but not by much, as he told me himself. And if Albern should manage to locate the Shades, he may need Mag’s help. She was right. Zhen is already out there seeking the enemy. Better to double our chances.”
Tou’s jaw kept clenching and releasing. But if he harbored any doubts, he kept them to himself. After all, it would hardly be becoming to argue with his captain after he had just disciplined the rest of us for insubordination.
“Very good, ser,” he said. “Shall I give them their orders in the morning?”
“You had better do it now,” said Kun, glancing at the tent flap. “Night has fallen. They will want to leave first thing in the morning, I imagine, and so they will want to turn in as early as possible.”
“I believe the three of them have already gone to bed,” said Tou. “I will tell them now in any case, even if I have to wake them, so they can prepare whatever they will need. Thank you, ser.”
He stood from the table, saluted, and left. Kun watched him go, still smiling. He pinched the bridge of his nose and pushed back, rubbing at his eyes, the smile never fading.
But it vanished when Tou came running back to his tent only a few moments later.
“Ugh,” said Sun. “You mean he caught you?”
“I am afraid so,” said Albern. “Well, caught is not quite the right word … but you will see what I mean a bit later in the story.”
“Before you tell it, though, I have another question,” said Sun.
Albern’s brows shot for the sky. “Do you indeed? Mark this moment—the first time you asked me to stop telling the story so that we could talk about something else.”
“You are most amusing,” said Sun, no hint of a smile on her face. “But the question is, in fact, about the tale. When you spoke of Mag hearing about Dragons for the first time …” A shadow seemed to cloud the day, and they both shuddered until it passed. “You mentioned she had no parents. Why not?”
“Well, she must have had parents,” said Albern. “Everyone does, after all. But if they ever did tell her tales of Dragons, she had long since lost those tales by the time she met Duana and came to Shuiniu.”
Now, I told you that Duana was a veteran of the Dorsean king’s wars. This was not, of course, King Jun, whose death had sparked the civil war in which we found ourselves. Duana was older. She had fought under Jun’s father, Wolin of the family Fei, and had served him with honor.
But when Duana came back from the war, she had many scars, and not all of them were of the skin. I am sure you know of veterans who suffer from maladies of the mind. Sometimes Duana would find herself growing anxious when there was no reason to be, breaking out in cold sweats and jerking at the smallest sound. It would come and go in waves, like a fever that resurges after starting to break.
This might have been why Duana knew the signs of Mag’s distress when she first told her of Dragons. She knew how unreasoning such terror can be, and how small and weak Mag must have felt before the images in her mind. Thoughts are but wisps and gossamer to most people, but to some, they hold a terrifying power—and sadly, that power is usually wielded most harshly against those who should be in control of it.
The townsfolk in Shuiniu understood this, as do most in the nine kingdoms. They would leave Duana alone if that was what she required, or stay with her and hold her hand through her tremors if she asked them to. But most of the time, when Duana’s attacks would grow too much to bear, she would take a long stick and go walking through the woods. That forest was called the Carrweld, as I have mentioned before, and it was peaceful. Beneath the trees, with birds singing and only the sound of her footsteps to accompany her, Duana would find peace again. Her body would gradually calm, her shakes ceasing, her breath coming free and easy.
But one day, the woods were not so peaceful. One day, just as Duana had overcome her fear, she heard something moving in the underbrush nearby.
Duana’s pulse raced again—but this time, it was under control. She gripped her walking stick in both hands, holding it before her in readiness.
The sound came once more. The creature was coming closer. Grimacing at the walking stick in her hands, Duana hoped she was not about to face a bear. But it sounded too small for that. Then a worse thought crossed her mind—it might be a cub, and the mother could be close.
Duana was about to turn tail and run for town, hoping she could outdistance the thing, when she spotted the face.
It was a girl. She was in a low bush, barely two paces away, and she was staring at Duana. Her face was so streaked with dirt and grime that Duana had missed her at first. She had wild, ratty hair filled with mud and sticks and who knew what else.
Duana knelt at once. She held out a hand, moving it ever so slowly and speaking in a gentle, coaxing tone.
“Well, hello there,” she said. “I am sorry if I startled you. Can you come out?”
Huge eyes blinked at her from that dirt-covered face. Ever so slowly, the girl pushed out from the bushes on either side of her.
She was naked, and the rest of her body was as filthy as her face. All sorts of detritus and dirt was worked into her hair, and all up and down her skin. But that skin was remarkably well-kept otherwise. Duana saw no signs of injury upon her, not even a scratch. But in her hand, she held a sharpened stick like a spear. Fresh blood stained the tip, and it looked as if there were many more coats beneath it.
“Hello,” said Duana again. “I am Duana.”
Those great brown eyes blinked. “Duana.” The girl’s voice was halting, but loud, strong.
“Yes,” said Duana. She settled back on her haunches while placing a hand to her chest. “I am Duana. And you?”
The girl pointed to Duana’s hand on her chest. “You.”
“Me,” said Duana. Then she pointed at the girl. “And you.” Again the hand on her chest and then pointing to the girl. “I am Duana. And you?”
The girl blinked twice more. Then she pointed at Duana. “You. Duana. I.” She placed a hand on her chest.
Sudden, clear certainty came into her eyes.
“Mag. I am Mag.”
“Dark take you to its depths, and dark take me for a fool for believing in you!” bellowed Sun.
Albern looked entirely alarmed, and he glanced at the crowd surrounding them on the street. Fortunately, no one seemed to have paid much attention to Sun’s outburst, for the bustle of a thousand conversations did much to drown her out.
“I am sorry?” said Albern.
“You should be!” said Sun. “All this ti
me, I thought you were leading me somewhere with all this talk about Mag’s peerless fighting.”
“You did?”
“I thought you were going to explain it. You made it seem as if one day, you were going to tell me how Mag learned to fight!”
“I did?”
“You did, and you know it,” growled Sun. “You gave me hope, and now I find that you are not going to tell me anything about it at all.”
“Am I not?”
Sun reached over and pinched his nose, much to Albern’s very evident shock. “Stop answering my questions with more questions.”
“Am I? Or, that is, I will try.” Albern’s voice came out thin and nasal through her fingers.
Sun released him. In truth, she was not all that angry, and she was enjoying his reaction to her sudden outburst.
“You lied to me as well,” she said. “You told me that Mag’s fight against Ciaran was her first fight. Yet she came out of the woods with blood on her spear. Clearly, she had fought before.”
Albern could not help a little smirk. “I am usually quite careful in my wording. And what I said, precisely, was that her scrap with Ciaran was her first fight against another person.”
“Albern,” said Sun, letting a whine come into her tone, “you cannot be serious about this. Are you trying to tell me that Mag walked out of the woods as a mysterious little child, already knowing perfectly how to fight, and without a scratch on her under all that dirt? Is this your idea of the brilliant tale of the murky past of one of Underrealm’s greatest figures? Because I must tell you that it is horrible. I have not felt so cheated since my tutor first taught me how to gamble and then stole my allowance for three months straight. My parents banished him from our home when they found out, but they let him keep the gold for his cleverness.”
That made Albern laugh. “Now, that is a good tale. A premise, a development, and a resolution that is unexpected yet inevitable. Pithy, too. Certainly more economical than this overlong yarn I have been spinning you.” He fixed her with an appraising look. “But as for your other question—Sun, what would you like me to say? I am relaying a tale. Would you like me to tell the story of what happened, as best I know it? Or should I make something up? Mayhap you would prefer a tale in which Mag set out to sail the Eldest Deep, battling all of the dark creatures of those terrifying waters, until she found a sea-hag who imparted upon her the secrets that allowed her to become an invincible fighter. That would be a fantastic story. I am certain they would pay me a great heap of coin in any tavern where I chose to spin it. However, it does not happen to be the truth. So. Which story would you rather hear?”
Sun folded her arms as they walked, staring at her feet in a pout. “That is an entirely unsatisfactory explanation.”
Albern smirked. “Well, I shall endeavor to do better in the future.”
“Get back to your ill-fated scouting expedition in the night,” said Sun, waving a hand at him. “I do not want to hear anything more about impossibly perfect children coming from nowhere.”
Albern’s mouth twisted. “You may not feel the same way, by the end of the tale.”
As night drew on and the moons rose higher in the sky, Mag, Yue, and I slipped out of Kun’s encampment, searching for any clue as to how the Shades had escaped. It was a fine night. Both moons shone full above me, and the clouds had parted, letting the land flood with silvery light. In those days, my eyes were sharper, and I could pick out the details in the land as we went.
I went to the dell where we had wiped out the Shades, or at least the rear guard who let the rest of their fellows escape. The tracks looked much the same—the only things different were the signs of Kun’s force moving south after the battle, and one set of new tracks from Zhen, whom Kun had assigned to search for the Shades.
“There is nothing new, Mag,” I said. “I might have a chance at spotting something in the daylight, but—”
“Albern,” said Mag. “Come now. You have to try, at least. Give me that much.”
I sighed. “I do not know what more I can do. I can think of no way they could have vanished like this. It is like Elf-magic.”
“Let us retrace our steps during the battle, then,” said Mag. “We came from that way.” She pointed to the west.
“No, we came from there,” I said, pointing to the hilltop where the Shade archers had fired at us. “Honestly, Mag, sometimes you are like an infant lost in the woods.”
A shadow passed over her expression, but I did not notice. I had frozen in place, staring up at the hill.
“Albern?” said Yue. “What is it?”
“That hill … that is where the Shades fired at us,” I said. “They killed one of mine. He bore a torch.”
“I remember,” said Mag. “They got two of mine as well.”
“I see where the torch rolled down the hill,” I said. “But I do not see the torch itself.”
We all looked up at the spot together. There was the mark that looked like a wyrm. It was less clear now, for the flames had long since burned out. But there was a black trough burned in the green shoots of new grass, and it looked for all the world like a dragon twisting as it dove to the ground, wings folded back against its body.
“Someone could have found it and picked it up,” said Yue.
“Look at the boulders,” I said. “It should have rolled down them, but it did not. There are no burn marks, no traces of pitch on the rocks.”
I walked forwards, Yue and Mag trailing behind me. And as I climbed up, I discovered the same thing Kaita had seen earlier that day: the hole behind the boulders, invisible unless you were almost inside it. The trail of the rolling torch vanished into the shadows.
“Dark below,” I said.
“In the strictest sense,” said Yue.
“We have them,” said Mag.
“Yes, we do,” I said. “All right. Let us return to Kun and—”
“What? No,” said Mag, looking at me as though I had gone mad. “They cannot be far inside. We have to go in. Kaita could be just a span away from us at this very moment.”
“Mag, you cannot be serious,” I said. “You told Kun you wanted to find the Shades so he could point his troops at them. Was that a lie?”
“It was not,” said Mag. “But Kun refused me. Now we have found them on our own. Let us slip in, kill Kaita, and then return. No one has to be any the wiser.”
“Mag,” I said, shaking my head. “Even if we can get in and find Kaita, and even if we can kill her—and neither of those is likely—what makes you think we could get back out again?”
“Albern is right, Mag,” said Yue. “I agreed to come out here, but I did not agree to throw myself blindly into the midst of our enemies.”
“Then let me do it,” growled Mag. “I can deal with Kaita easily enough if I can only get my hands on her. Albern, listen to me. How many times have we faced Kaita on the battlefield? When she knows we are coming, or when she sees we are within striking distance, she always flees. She did it in Northwood. She did it twice in Tokana. And neither of us can catch a bird, or even a mountain lion, for that matter. We have to take her by surprise. If we do not, she will only escape again. Please.”
I sighed. Mag did have a point. It is perilously tricky to hold a weremage in place when they wish to escape you. And if anyone could slip into the midst of our enemies, kill one of them, and get out again, it would have been Mag. But I was not confident that anyone could do it, not even the legendary Uncut Lady.
“When will you turn back, Mag?” I said. “What if it grows more dangerous? What if they raise the alarm? What if they kill you, or one of us?”
“That will not happen,” said Mag at once. “I will not let anything happen to the two of you. And yes, I promise you: if they raise the alarm, I will turn tail and flee with the both of you.” A sudden smile twisted her lips. “I will probably run faster than you, Albern, for age has made you slow.”
I laughed despite myself, choking it back and trying to maintain a
stern expression. “All right. If I have your vow, I will come with you.”
“Then it is settled,” said Mag, clapping her hands. “Do not worry, friends. I will lead the way.”
So saying, she lowered herself into the darkness behind the boulders. I heard her land lightly on the tunnel floor, and then she hissed up from the shadows for us to follow her.
Yue moved to go down, but I stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. She met my eyes, squinting to see me in the moonslight.
“Are you sure about this?” I said. “Mag and I could go on alone. You could return to camp.”
“I would feel faithless if I turned from the two of you now,” said Yue, though her usual fire was missing. “I only … Albern, you do not have to go along with her in everything.”
“I know that,” I said. “And deep down, she knows it, too. But while I am joining in her foolishness, I am glad you are with me.” I leaned in and kissed her.
Smiling despite herself, she shook her head. “You are soft, Telfer. But fear not. I will harden you. Come on.”
She dove into the darkness while I flushed and tried to concentrate on finding a way to slide down that would not break something vital. When eventually I landed catlike beside Yue, Mag had already taken a few steps down the tunnel. The moonslight vanished almost immediately, leaving us in total darkness beneath the earth.
“I have torches,” I said, reaching for my pack.
“No,” said Mag quietly. “If they see us coming, they will raise the alarm for certain. We shall have to feel our way along.”
Yue groaned. “Mag, one of us could trip, and the sound of the falling might alert them anyway. Do you honestly expect us to push forwards into the darkness without a light to see by?”
Mag paused for a moment, thinking. “I suppose if they have posted sentries, they will have torches of their own. But still, I do not want them to see us coming. If you must light a torch, stay far behind me. I will push forwards in the dark, and if I see anything, I will run back to you and alert you.”
The Tales of the Wanderer Volume One: A Book of Underrealm (The Underrealm Volumes 4) Page 79