Mystic: A Book of Underrealm

by Garrett Robinson

  “’Tis all right,” said Loren, her voice a soothing murmur. “He means you no harm. Please do not be frightened.”

  “This one is large,” said Bubble.

  In fact, Loren was as tall as the wizard, though Xain had more bulk. “What is our plan?” she asked, hoping to return the wurt’s mind to the matter at hand.

  Once he seemed convinced that Xain would come no closer, Bubble straightened. Stream’s head emerged from water, but he did not approach.

  “Bubble will go to the rivergate. You will need air to pass beneath it. Bubble can give it to you. He can build a . . .” The wurt thought for a moment, film flashing across his eyes as he blinked. “I do not know your word. But it will let you swim far in the water.”

  “Can we help?” said Loren. “I have some skill with handcrafts.”

  Bubble shook his head. “You do not know this making. Bubble will take Stream there to show him, and then return to watch you. It would not be well for other wurts to find you without Bubble here.”

  “I understand,” said Loren, though she did not see the danger in meeting more wurts. They seemed a harmless folk. “Again, we thank you.”

  “Indeed, you are more than kind,” said Gem, jumping to his feet. “Do you often swim up and down the river, searching for wandering strangers to aid?”

  Bubble blinked at the boy. Then the wurt sidled up to Gem and placed a wide, webbed hand on his belly. “You have not eaten the fish?”

  “His share, and more besides,” said Annis. “I do not know where it all goes, for he is still skinny as a spar.”

  Bubble looked at Annis with interest. “But you are not. Why is this?”

  Annis looked at Loren, confused.

  Loren said, “Annis has never wanted for food. Her family has the wealth to eat as much as they wish. Gem was raised in hardship and often went hungry.”

  “His . . . family does not feed him?” Bubble said the words slowly, as though piecing each together in his mind.

  “I have no family,” said Gem. “My parents are dead, or lost to me.”

  “Family . . . clan . . . others,” said Bubble. “The others who see you. These ones.” He pointed at Loren and Gem. “Why do they not feed you?”

  Loren felt perilously close to offense, as though they had broken some wurt law they knew nothing about. “We only just met the boy. We have done our best.”

  “Before you, then,” said Bubble, his voice now insistent, “why did others not feed him?”

  Loren looked at Xain, who seemed to know more about the wurts than any of them. But the wizard only shrugged.

  “He has no kin,” she said helplessly. “Few would take in an orphan boy.”

  “But he was hungry?”

  “Often, yes,” said Gem cheerily.

  “But they did not feed him.” Bubble pondered, looking back to his brother. “This is a great evil. I did not know men were so cruel.”

  Annis sniffed and folded her arms. “’Tis not cruelty. Only one cannot go around feeding every poor and starving orphan in the nine lands. There is not enough food, for one thing.”

  “There are always fish. Bubble will go now and build your air. Feed the sick child.”

  He turned and leapt into the river. Stream slipped into the current beside him. Gem stared, flabbergasted.

  “I am not sick!”

  “You could be,” said Loren. “Look at you. You are more bone than meat.”

  “And it has brought us the wurts’ help when our journey seemed hopeless,” said Xain. “Be thankful for that. Sometimes, a frail look can offer advantage.”

  His eyes stayed on Annis for a moment, and his right hand stole to his elbow. Pick, pick.

  eighteen

  THEY WAITED UPON THAT RIVERBANK through the day, with Bubble vanishing and reappearing every so often, seemingly at random. An hour would pass with no sign of the wurt, and then he would spring from the shallows clutching yet another fish.

  “You are still hungry,” said Bubble, pointing at Gem. “Eat.”

  After the second or third time, Gem threw up his hands and scowled. “I have eaten fish until I never wish to taste it again! I am not hungry!”

  Bubble indicated the boy’s belly, still thin enough to see the ribs. “You have not eaten enough. You are sick.”

  “I am not sick!”

  Loren was more than happy to keep eating, for they had been hungry many days, and she did not know how they would acquire provisions in Wellmont. Xain and Annis had spent the last of their coin. Loren would have to steal something, she supposed, and the prospect thrilled her less than she imagined it would. But when she put fish upon the fire, Bubble interrupted her.

  “Bubble saw you do this before. Why?”

  “Do what? We are eating the fish you brought us.”

  “You are burning it. Ruining it with fire.”

  “She is only cooking it,” Annis said.

  Blinking, he said, “Bubble does not know this word.”

  “Cooking!” said Gem, exasperated. “Putting the fish on the fire until it browns, so you can eat it. Do you think we would eat the foul things raw?”

  “Bubble does not know this word.”

  “Bubble does not know any words!” said Gem. “How do you eat fish?”

  The wurt vanished into the river and reappeared with another fish. Then, to Loren’s disgust, he tore into it with his sharp teeth, scooping flesh into his mouth and swallowing without chewing.

  “Ugh,” said Gem. “I was full before. Now I will not eat for a week.”

  Bubble also seemed fascinated, if terrified, by Xain. The wurt would sit a few paces away, staring at the wizard while Xain feigned no notice. If ever he glanced in Bubble’s direction, the wurt would scuttle away. After being under Bubble’s study for a half hour, the wizard finally pounded his hand on the ground.

  “What? What are you staring at, creature?”

  Bubble vanished into the river and did not reappear for more than an hour while Xain pointedly ignored Annis and Loren’s disapproving stares. Gem, however, seemed to enjoy the reprieve and took a nap upon the grass in the afternoon sun.

  When Bubble finally surfaced, Loren headed him off before he could approach Xain. “You must forgive our friend. He is spent, as are we all. Do you require anything from him? Mayhap if you asked . . .”

  “His face,” said Bubble. “It is covered with weeds, like your heads. But only his face bears them, and not yours.”

  Loren looked at Xain for a moment before understanding dawned. “His beard?” In truth, it was a poor thing, merely a few days’ growth the wizard had not had time to shave. “All men have such. Well, almost,” she amended, thinking of Chet’s laughable attempts to grow a beard back in the Birchwood.

  “It is . . . a sickness?”

  Xain’s scowl deepened, and Loren fought not to laugh. “No, not a sickness. It is natural. Same as growing teeth.”

  Bubble blinked at her. “Bubble has seen it before but has never understood. Thank you for this lore.”

  “Of course.” Loren shrugged. “Such knowledge is commonplace amongst us and would hardly be considered lore.”

  “Bubble knows more of man lore than any wurt in his clan,” he said, and Loren thought she heard pride in his voice. “One day, the leaders will come to learn everything about men, the way they once came to Bubble’s father.”

  “Is your father very wise?” said Loren.

  “The wisest,” said Bubble. “He was loremaster of our clan, and all of our knowledge swam in his mind. But he is gone now.” The wurt’s eyes drooped to the ground.

  “I am sorry,” Loren whispered. “I have often wished for a father I would miss, and you do him a great honor.”

  Bubble peered up at Loren, and his already-watery eyes gave him the appearance of weeping. “It is well. Bubble is proud to have had him for a father.” He sprang up suddenly. “Bubble must go see what Stream has done.”

  Finally, just as the sun finished its long descent
beyond the far horizon, Bubble and Stream emerged from the river together. As before, Stream hung back while Bubble came forwards to speak.

  “Your air is ready. You must follow Bubble now, and we must all of us stay silent. You cannot go in the water, so you must hide yourselves upon the land.”

  “We can go unseen when we wish,” said Loren. “Show us the way.”

  First, they had to cross the stream. Loren wished Bubble had told them this earlier, for they had to do it in twilight’s dimming glow. They could not swim across with their cloaks and packs; Gem could not swim at all. By the time they came upon a shallow place to ford, the sun’s glow was nearly gone. Gem slipped once upon the rocks as they crossed and thrashed wildly in the water until Stream sprang forwards to rescue him. Loren thanked the sky above that the boy did not have a pack, for it would have been soaked through.

  They walked south down the river until it rejoined the Dragon’s Tail, and then slipped along the shore towards Wellmont. They passed the Dorsean blockade that yawned across the river; decks were alight with the glow of torches and lanterns. But the light did not reach the shore, and there were many low bushes and trees to hide them. They passed the ships after a moment, and Loren sighed with relief.

  “The worst is over,” said Annis. “At least, I hope so. I do not know how the wurts mean to get us under the rivergate, and only hope we do not have to—”

  “Cease your prattling.”

  Loren thought Xain’s voice too harsh. She tried to glare at the wizard in the moonslight, but either he did not see or avoided her gaze.

  More torches dusted the Wellmont’s tall walls, rising higher and higher as they approached. These walls were far greater than those of Cabrus, which until now had been the largest she had seen. Some thirty feet high they must have stood and seemed several paces thick, stretching far in both directions, promising a sprawling city within. Loren felt awed at their sight.

  “What army could hope to breach these walls?” she whispered, barely aware that she had spoken aloud.

  “Enough men can destroy a mountain if they take a pebble at a time,” said Xain. “And there are more ways to conquer a city than flinging your arrows and swords.”

  Though no one issued command, they all fell silent, coming closer still to the walls. They could see the guards pacing far above and knew an alarm could mean their death. No doubt every man bore a longbow and would fill the air with shafts at the slightest provocation.

  It was a harrowing experience, but soon they reached the rivergate. Wide and strong, the gates were formed of steel. They met in the river’s middle, and Loren could see a great spar across the top holding them closed. Where the gates met the water they became grates, with holes so thin that Loren doubted even Gem could slip his hand inside. The grates tore and tugged at the flowing water, creating dozens of streaming whirlpools that gurgled loud in the night. The gates sank into the river, and in the darkness Loren could barely imagine how far they descended.

  “How do they mean to get us under that?” whispered Gem. “It must go down to the river’s bottom.”

  Loren thought of silencing the boy but realized that the swirling water would mask all but a shout. “They seem to know their business. Let us wait and see.”

  Bubble emerged from the river. Stream followed a moment later. Bubble dragged something in his webbed fingers behind him. It looked to Loren like a bowl, only much larger than any she had ever seen. It stretched almost as wide as her arm span, deep as half her body. It looked to be formed of some combination of branches, reeds, and mud.

  “Here is your air,” said Bubble. “Beneath it you can breathe long enough to swim under the gate.”

  “What?” said Gem. “How will an oversized dinner bowl help us?”

  “Come,” said Bubble, motioning to Loren. “Bubble will show you.”

  Loren hesitated, but they had come too far to turn back now. She removed her cloak and folded it into her pack while Xain and Annis did likewise. Slowly, she waded out into the river. Summer had warmed the waters from spring’s chill, but still the cold almost took her breath. She waved her arms back and forth, trying to warm her blood.

  “Now we will give you air,” said Bubble.

  Together, he and Stream lifted the bowl and placed it over Loren’s head. In another moment, Bubble’s face popped into view beneath her, even as he held tight to the rim.

  “Go farther into the water. Your air will come with you.”

  Loren swallowed and forced herself to take a step deeper into the river. Then another. The water stayed at her chest, leaving her head and shoulders in open air within the bowl. A thrill shot through her, and she took yet another step. The water must have been over the top of the bowl, though not so much as a drop fell upon her head. She was shrouded in darkness and could not see an inch in front of her nose.

  She heard Bubble splash into the water. “You see? Now turn around, and go back to the others.”

  Loren turned—it was hard to maintain her sense of direction when she could see nothing—and retraced her steps. Soon, the bowl raised up and over her head, and Loren found herself in the open air upon the shore. She shivered as the night’s breeze struck her soaked breeches.

  “It works!” she cried out, before remembering to whisper. “The air stays inside, and you can breathe. Like magic.”

  “Not magic. Bubble only knows the way to craft things water cannot enter. Many wurts know the skill.” The wurt’s modesty was only slightly less charming coming from his pointed teeth and white, lidless eyes.

  “You expect me to climb into that thing?” said Annis. Her voice had grown shrill and raspy, and she clutched her arms in a panic.

  Loren’s face fell. She had forgotten. Annis feared any dark confined space. She had nearly been useless in the Cabrus sewers, unable to move without constant goading and guidance.

  “I will come with you,” said Loren. “We will do it together.”

  “No!” Annis cried, now forgetting herself completely. Loren started and looked up at the top of the wall, but no watchful faces emerged. “I will not climb willingly into that death trap!”

  Before Loren could respond, Gem came between them and rested a hand on Annis’s shoulders. He looked into her eyes, holding them until she returned his gaze. “Let me, then. You remember what I taught you beneath Cabrus? Breathing. Everything is in your breath. I will teach you again, reminding you as we pass beneath the gate together.”

  “I . . . I cannot . . .” said Annis.

  “You can,” said Gem. “Slow. In. And out. Come—do it for me now, as practice.”

  Annis took one long, slow breath in, and then released it in a heavy sigh. In and out. Once more, and Loren saw some of her fear drain away, like water from a twisted rag.

  “Good,” said Gem. “You can do that a few more times while we take a night’s stroll on the riverbed?”

  Annis shook her head, but the conviction had left her. “I am still frightened.”

  “We live our lives frightened,” said Gem. “But still we must go on.”

  Annis did not answer. Loren could see her shoulders shaking beneath Gem’s fingers. But finally, the girl nodded, a quick, furtive movement.

  “Good. Now I will go first to show you it is safe. Gem, bring Annis after me. Xain, you will come last.”

  The wizard nodded. Loren gave Annis a quick hug and a reassuring smile before stepping back into the shallows.

  “Remember, come as quickly as you can,” she told Annis. “And close your eyes if it helps.”

  “It certainly will not,” said Annis. “Just go, so we may get this over with.”

  Bubble and Stream raised the bowl and placed it over Loren’s head. She walked forward, and soon the water passed over the top. Darkness swallowed her.

  The ground grew slicker the farther she went until Loren sank up to her ankles with every step. The bowl kept the water around her thighs, and she could place her hands on either side to hold her steady footing. It s
wirled as it passed, but there was not enough to matter. After many steps, the bowl moved to Loren’s right.

  Bubble is guiding me.

  She turned with the motion, and now Loren’s steps carried her to where she knew the rivergate waited.

  Her breath came hard, and she felt lightheaded without knowing why. Each step grew difficult, and she put her hands on the bowl to keep from falling. When it suddenly stopped, Loren nearly bumped her head.

  She heard a splash as Bubble’s head poked out of the water by her legs. “Bubble has made a mistake. The air is too large to pass under the gate. You will have to swim from here.”

  “Swim?” Something about that bothered her, though Loren could not remember what. Her mind spun, and she could scarcely consider Bubble’s words. Spots of light danced before her eyes, like stars underwater. Her lungs burnt.

  “Swim forward. You will feel the gate. Pass beneath it, and then swim up.”

  “Which way is up?” said Loren, but Bubble had vanished already. Then, without warning, the bowl began to rise around her.

  Loren almost panicked before she felt Bubble’s hand on her arm. The wurt pushed her forward, and as she thrust her hands out they encountered the rivergate iron. She used it to pull herself under. Her lungs screaming, Loren pushed from the river floor as hard as she could.

  Up and up she rose, bouncing off the gate in her ascent.

  The world grew lighter. More spots in my eyes, she thought, until she realized they were stars.

  Her head broke the surface, and Loren sucked in a deep mouthful of air. The river hurled her against the rivergate, and she did not resist, sitting in the current, sucking in the sweetest air of her life.

  After a moment, Loren came to herself and opened her eyes. Thankfully, no one stood anywhere near. Like Redbrook, Wellmont had built stone walls along the river’s edge, with docks for small boats. But no one patrolled those docks, and the only fires came from wall-mounted torches and lanterns. No one in Wellmont feared entry through the river—the gate was too strong.

  Loren paddled towards the closest dock, keeping her movements slow and soft to avoid a splash that might alert the guards.