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

by Garrett Robinson

  Sun met his gaze for a long, silent moment.

  “Yes.”

  “Good,” said Albern. He sighed. “Then for now, let us return to that cold night in the rain.”

  “Mag?”

  I could only stare at her in wonder. I had no idea what under the sky was going on. Mag’s screams had subsided, but she still whimpered and groaned through clenched teeth. Her wounds were still stitching up, her body snapping itself back into shape. She was in agony. And what could I do about it? I could not even touch her without provoking a fresh cry of pain.

  Her eyes focused for a moment, and then they found me. But she quickly turned away. “What are you doing here?” she gasped. The words were horribly mangled and garbled—her throat was not yet fully healed.

  “What in the dark below do you mean?” I demanded. “I came after you, you absolute fool. What were you thinking, coming out here alone?”

  “Why would I ask you to come?” she said. “Look at me. You would only have died.”

  “And you should be dead,” I said. “Mag, what is—”

  A horrible realization struck me. I seized Mag’s shoulder and hauled her over to lie on her stomach. She tried to resist, tried to grip my wrist and render me helpless, as she had countless times before. But beneath her sealing skin, her muscles were still horribly mutilated, and she had no more strength than a toddler.

  Once she was lying facedown, I seized her hair and shoved it up, pulling it side to side. I inspected the back of her neck, and then, when I found nothing, I tried higher up on the scalp.

  “There is nothing,” said Mag through gritted teeth. The muddy ground muffled her words. “Nothing, Albern, I swear.”

  I ignored her and looked carefully for myself. But she was right. There was nothing. I rolled her back over, and she glared at me as she came to rest on her back again.

  “This magic,” I said. “It is the enchantment of the Shades’ master. How did you come by it? How long have you had it?”

  “I do not know,” she said, still clearly in pain, her teeth gritted.

  “Do not lie to me, Mag!”

  “I do not know, Albern!” she pleaded. “I have been … like this, since I could remember.”

  “But … but why?” I said. “How did it start?”

  “I do not know,” she said. “I have some … some vague, hazy memory of the middle of the woods, near that town called Shuiniu—the one I told you about, that was not far from Taitou. There I lived alone for many years, hunting for food in the forest. It was a long time before I met other people. I did not know how to speak when they found me. I only knew my name, and how to kill.”

  Another chill went through me. “Mag. How long ago was that?”

  She took a deep breath and met my gaze. “Twenty years before we met.”

  Slowly I shook my head. “That is impossible. You were only twenty years old when we met, or around that age. Do not try to tell me you came out of the woods as an infant, already knowing how to fight.”

  “No, Albern,” she said quietly. “I am telling you I came out of the woods like this. Exactly as I am now. In every way.”

  I suddenly felt dizzy, and I sank back onto my rear in the mud.

  Chausiku had seen it. He had told me, but I had laughed him off. He said she was far younger than I was, and I told him she aged well.

  She did not age well. She did not age at all. She looked exactly the same now as she had when we met. But for years, I had kept telling myself that was not true, because it could not be. I told myself I saw subtle differences, things only I could see because I knew her so well. But that was a lie, something to let my mind feel secure in the face of the inexplicable.

  I had thought Chausiku could not see the truth because he was too removed. In fact, I could not see it because I was too close.

  Mag had not aged since long before we had met. And in all the battles we had fought in our youth, and then in Northwood, and on the long road since …

  It was not that Mag could not be touched. It was that she always came back. And she hid it from me. From everyone.

  “You kept it a secret,” I said. “Every time I thought I saw you injured, and you turned out to be fine. I was right. You were wounded, many times. But you healed, and I ascribed it to the chaos of battle. I told myself I had seen something that had not happened.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes, you have the right of it.” Mag’s body was mostly together now. She pushed herself up to sitting, dangling her arms over her knees. She was avoiding my gaze again. The rain had died out somewhat, and now it merely trickled onto us.

  I could not help a snort of laughter. “No wonder you always hated my nickname. You were never the Uncut Lady at all.”

  She shook her head. “No. I was not. Just a lonely wanderer with a curse, and no memory of how it came to me.”

  “And you are sure it has nothing to do with the Lord?” I pressed. “I told you of Trisken in the mountains. And you have seen the brute woman here. The way their bodies heal themselves, no matter the wound …”

  “It is not the same,” said Mag, her voice low but fervent. “You said nothing of Trisken’s pain when you told me of his power. And I have seen the brute woman suffer wounds. When she shrugs them off, her body is not wracked with agony. And then there is that tattoo they have—sky above, Albern, you have seen me naked often enough to know I do not have one, not on my neck or anywhere else. This enchantment their Lord has given them, and what happens to me … they may be similar in effect, but they are nothing alike in nature.”

  “Mayhap,” I said thoughtfully. “And yet there may be a link. But that is a matter for another time, I suppose.”

  “If you say so,” said Mag. She sounded as defeated as she had that morning, when we sat despondent by the fire together. Oku nuzzled her hands with his head, as he had when she lay broken in the mud. Mag scratched him halfheartedly behind the ears.

  I reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, shaking my head. “So, this is why you ran off on your own,” I said. “This is why you always go off on your own, no matter the danger. You know you will not die.”

  “Yes,” whispered Mag. “And if I was injured, I did not want you to see it. I have worked hard to keep everyone from discovering what I am, because I do not understand it myself.”

  I leaned back, looking up into the greying sky. The sun was gone in the west, and its last light was quickly vanishing. “I suppose that makes sense.”

  Her gaze flitted to me, and then away again. “You are likely angry with me.”

  I thought about that. “Did Sten know?”

  Mag nodded. “And one other. My old master, Duana, who taught me brewing in Shuiniu. I … I am sorry, Albern. I have known you longer than I knew either of them. It is no defense, but I promise I did not mean to tell them. They found out.”

  At that, I finally had to laugh out loud. The look of shock it put on her face was priceless. “Mag, stop it. Dark below, you do not have to apologize to me that your husband knew more about you than I did.”

  Her eyes were wide now, and she blinked twice at me. “I … I suppose I am surprised that you are not more upset with me.”

  “I …” My voice trailed off. To be honest, I did not entirely understand it myself. “Mag, it is your life. It is not mine. But I do wonder—and please believe that this is only curiosity—why did you not tell me? What were you afraid of?”

  She shrugged. “I am not exactly sure. But it … when does one bring up something like this? Certainly not when we first met.”

  “And how about all the time after, when we were fighting together?” I smiled to reassure her I was not angry. “It would have been nice not to be terrified every time you ran off and did something foolish.”

  To my surprise, Mag shook her head sharply. “No. Never that. I never wanted it to be known to anyone I fought beside. Even you. I never wanted it to become an expectation in anyone else’s mind. Would you put it past some of our commanders to f
ling me into the thickest fighting, if they did not have to worry about me dying? You have seen what coming back does to me. Every injury is twice as painful. I suffer all the agony of the wound itself, and then the pain of my body putting itself back together.” A frown crossed her face. “I think … I am not certain, but I think that is why I learned to fight so well. So that I could protect myself from suffering in battle.”

  I frowned. “You think that is why you learned?”

  Her expression grew bleak. “I do not remember learning it, Albern. I mean it when I say that I have always been this way. Everything before that forest in Shuiniu is … empty. There is nothing. I told you yesterday that I wanted an after. Mayhap that is because I have never had a before.”

  I leaned back on my hands, staring at her. “Mag. You damn fool. I am sorry I found out this way.”

  Mag’s eyes locked on mine. “You what?”

  “You never meant to tell me,” I said. “You should not have had to tell me if you did not wish to. I should have found out on your terms, or not at all.”

  “That is what upsets you?” said Mag. “Albern, that would never have happened. I did not want you to know. And it was never something I had to worry about when I was in Northwood and you were in Strapa. But ever since we set out on this long road together, I have been terrified you would discover the secret and be hurt that I had not told you decades ago.”

  I waved a hand vaguely. “You are speaking to the wrong person for that, Mag. I had no right to any of your secrets, least of all this. But still—why come out here alone? Did you think you could succeed against Kaita by yourself when we have failed together every time?”

  She sighed, licking her lips. “I had to try. I thought that, if I had only gone alone, when we went to that Shade encampment in the cave, I could have ended her. I could have plunged into the thick of them, and who cared if I raised the alarm? They could not have killed me. So that is what I was going to try to do. And that is what I must try to do again.” She started to push herself up. “Now that I know of her hellskin form, I can act quickly enough to—”

  “Whoa now,” I said, pushing her back down. I could never have done it if she were at full strength, but she was still weak from the healing. “You sit down, and you shush.”

  Mag’s brows arched, and for a moment, she looked like her old self again. “Excuse me?”

  “I will not.” I thrust a finger at her. “You now find yourself in the same situation as everyone you have ever fought: you are facing a foe that you cannot hope to defeat in a fair fight. Instead you must be sneaky, as well as cunning. Now, to your detriment, you are terrible at both those things because they are skills you have never had to acquire. But fortunately for you, cunning is one thing I have in great abundance.”

  I looked off to the west, where Kaita and the brute woman had gone. Oku’s ears perked up as he looked at me.

  “Here is what we are going to do.”

  When Kaita and Tagata reached the Shade camp, Kaita returned to her tent. But it felt far too small to contain her. She emerged back into the open air and began to pace around a nearby campfire.

  Her body felt weary, as if it had been somehow drained. She guessed it was from the effort of taking the hellskin form. She had never experienced this with any creature in her canon before, but of course, she had never commanded such immense power. Mayhap it taxed her body in some way with which she was not yet familiar.

  But despite her underlying exhaustion, Kaita was also nearly bouncing with subdued energy. Her limbs would not stop moving, and any time she focused on her fingers, she found them drumming against her palms. Her eyes darted in all directions, seeking, searching, but she did not know for what.

  Was this a heightened emotional state after finally killing Mag? It was possible. Or mayhap it was some aftereffect of the magestone. If so, it was far preferable to the weariness. But the two feelings combined made her feel an overwhelming desire to keep moving, while at the same time it seemed her body might give out at any moment.

  Tagata had been watching her carefully ever since they had returned to the Shade camp. Kaita noticed it, and it did not entirely please her. But she tried to give a reassuring smile, and Tagata returned it.

  “You did it,” said Tagata quietly.

  “I did,” said Kaita. “I never need fear her again.”

  “Well done,” said Tagata. “And now it would be good for you to rest. You are not used to the effects of the stones. You will feel better in the morning.”

  “I do not feel as if I can rest,” said Kaita. She strode to Tagata, her gaze swinging back and forth, still seeking—seeking what? “I feel as though I can hardly stop moving. But that is fine. I can rest later, when we reach the Greatrocks.” A smile twitched its way across her lips, and there it rested, quivering. She ran her fingers along the edges of Tagata’s vest, tracing the lines of it. “Mayhap instead of resting, we should celebrate.”

  Tagata’s smile dampened. “Not just now,” she said. “But if you promise me you will sleep, I will happily accommodate you on the morrow.”

  Anger flared in Kaita’s gut. She very nearly snarled before she could contain herself. Her hands leaped away from Tagata like she had been burned, and she turned to hide her ugly expression. Her sleeve rose to scrub at her forehead.

  It was fine. Tagata did not understand what Kaita was feeling. How could she? And of course, if she did not wish to join Kaita in her bedroll, she did not have to.

  And yet, why would she not want to? thought Kaita. Why does she keep looking at me that way?

  She put a hand to her forehead. The weariness had begun to overpower the restlessness, weakening her limbs. It was a far cry from how she had felt when she ate the magestone.

  The magestone. The rest of them were still in her cloak pocket. Mayhap another one would strengthen her. Before she could even decide to, her fingers began to steal towards them.

  “Kaita.”

  She froze. Tagata was looking down at her, smile replaced with a stern scowl.

  “What?” said Kaita, feeling her mood darken.

  “You do not need another stone,” said Tagata. “It will make things worse, not better.”

  Another flare of anger burned through Kaita’s chest. “And what do you know about it?” she snapped. “You are no mage.”

  “Kaita,” said Tagata again, and her voice was calm, “Rogan warned you of this, as he warned you not to go running after Mag on your own. The stones prey on your mind. You must remain aware of that, and you must resist them. Otherwise, you will be a danger to our kindred, not an asset.”

  A danger? Oh, yes, Kaita could be a danger. Her breath came faster, the fury rose in her mind until she could hear her heartbeat in her ears, and her hands clenched to—

  No.

  Kaita forced herself to be still. She took a long, slow breath, counting to ten, and then holding it for a moment before releasing it slowly.

  Everything Tagata was saying was right. Kaita had known it since she was a child in the Academy, listening to fellow students whisper rumors. And Rogan had told her all this. And she had promised him, and through him, the Lord.

  She would not prove too weak to keep her word. She could resist the stones.

  “I am sorry,” she said. She walked forwards and looked up into Tagata’s face. When Tagata smiled at her, she laid her head against the woman’s mighty chest. Tree-trunk arms enveloped her, and she lost herself in a deep sigh within them. “I have never felt this before. But the stones are not stronger than me. I will not succumb to their urges, and I will not disappoint you.”

  “I do not think you could ever do that,” murmured Tagata. “Do you want me to hold them for you?”

  Kaita’s pulse quickened, and her breath came faster. “No,” she said quickly. “At least … I do not want to give them to you. But when … when I fall asleep … would you take them from my pocket?”

  “Of course, dear little one,” said Tagata. “Now, let us get you i
n a bedroll. And no,” she said with a smile, in response to Kaita’s playfully raised eyebrow, “that does not mean anything more than it means.”

  “Fine,” said Kaita with a snort. And for that brief moment, she felt almost like her old self again.

  But then horns sounded at the camp’s eastern end.

  Both of them turned and froze, waiting for some further sign. But they could see nothing, and no sound came. The sun had long since vanished, and the moons were not quite high enough to illuminate anything.

  “Come,” rumbled Tagata. Together they ran for the eastern end of the camp.

  They found a group of Shades already there, and more were gathering. But they were clustered behind tents, and they were all looking off to the east. Tagata and Kaita approached them at a low crouch, stooped to hide behind the tents.

  “What is it?” said Tagata in a low voice. “The Mystics?”

  “No redcloaks that I have seen,” said a sergeant. “But mayhap one of their agents. Someone killed two of our sentries before he was spotted by a third. A man in a brown cloak.”

  Kaita’s blood froze. She stood up in plain view, ignoring Tagata’s panicked look.

  There.

  On a hill not far away, the twin moons silhouetted a figure. A bow was in his hand, and his brown cloak fluttered in the gentle night breeze. It was me, of course.

  But the moment she saw me, I turned and vanished into the darkness.

  “It is him!” she cried. She darted out from behind the tent, running east.

  “Kaita!” cried Tagata. “Wait!”

  “He is alone!” called Kaita over her shoulder. “I have kept my promise, Tagata. I will finish him off, and then I will return to you.” She stopped for an instant, turning to meet Tagata’s gaze. “I swear it, my love.”

  She turned and vanished into the same night that had taken me.

  Tagata watched her go, feeling impotent and helpless despite all her vaunted strength. Almost she tried to run after Kaita, to keep her safe. But she looked around at her kindred, all of them looking confused, even frightened in the darkness. And she stayed put.