The Tales of the Wanderer Volume One: A Book of Underrealm (The Underrealm Volumes 4) Garrett Robinson (poetry books to read TXT) 📖

“Come, my fine boys,” she said suddenly, startling us both in the silence. “Show me you have not grown too old to be useful.”

She crouched and sprang, landing on a narrow ledge halfway up one of the huge boulders at the edge of the clearing. It was a leap I could not have made two decades ago, and I had no hope of it now.

“I am afraid we are both useless next to you, and always have been,” I told her. “But could you help two decrepit old men make the climb?”

Mag laughed loud at that, and she lowered a hand. Sten seized it, and she levered him up to the ledge beside her. I was next, and each of them took one of my hands to pull me up. I was momentarily shocked by the strength of Mag’s pull, though I should not have been. When you looked at Sten, you thought he was a man who should be able to lift you off your feet. Mag did not project the same strength, for all her plentiful wiry muscle. And indeed, when it came to sheer strength, Sten outmatched her. But Mag understood something about the way the world worked, and the way the human body worked within it. She knew how to twist, where to bend, and how to leverage every ounce of her strength into something much greater. It came naturally to her, as natural as a tiger stalking the jungles of Feldemar.

But as I said, they pulled me to the ledge beside them. Then Mag made another leap, and then she hauled us up again after her. It was like a game to her, and she urged us to move faster with each climb. Soon we had reached the top of the boulder, where there was plenty of room for all three of us to lie down beside each other. Mag lay in the middle, and Sten beside her with his head close to hers—but I was on Mag’s other side, and I lay with my feet near her head. Sten and I breathed heavily with exertion, but Mag’s chest rose and fell steadily.

“You were right,” I told them. “The moons are perfect.”

Sten pointed. “The sisters are returning home. Enalyn leads the way, urging Merida to hasten her steps.”

“Enalyn may find that her home looks different than when she left it.”

The words came out without my even thinking them, and they surprised me as much as they evidently surprised Mag and Sten. Both of them raised their heads to look at me.

“You are very thoughtful tonight, and very dour,” said Mag. “I gave you ale to fix that.”

“Mayhap you are losing your touch, brewmaster.” We all three laughed, for that was a plain lie. “No, you are right. I … suppose I was thinking of Loren.”

“Were you.” The words seemed inquisitive, but Mag did not speak them as a question.

“If she returns to her home, she will certainly find it different than she left it,” said Sten. “What a long road that child has ridden.”

And has yet to ride, I thought. But this time I managed to keep the words to myself.

“Speaking of riding,” said Mag. “Do you think we ought to worry about that boy Chet?”

“Sky above, Mag,” said Sten. He actually sounded embarrassed.

I laughed aloud. “Though you might have put it more delicately—no, I do not think we need to worry.”

“Loren seemed distressed after they spoke,” said Mag.

“Likely he brought bad news of home,” I said. “But he seemed a good sort, if mayhap a bit foolish. But putting Chet aside, I have faith in Loren. She can care for herself, even if he is of ill intent—though as I said, I doubt it.”

“As you say,” said Mag. There was a long moment’s silence, and then she spoke again. “You do not think we need to tell her of silphium, do you?”

Sten groaned. “If you wish to have children, can we do it the usual way, rather than leaping straight into parenting two people who are very nearly adults?”

Mag slapped his shoulder, and Sten winced. “I am only teasing. Well, mostly teasing.”

“She has always been this way,” I said. “Quite a number of new recruits suddenly found themselves with a mother in their own mercenary company. And once she latched on to one of them—”

“Latched?” said Mag indignantly. “You make me sound like a leech.”

“I might not have used that word, but you are not wrong to.”

Quick as a flash, Mag leaped to her knees and shoved me. My head slipped over the edge of the boulder, and I was only kept from falling off by Mag herself, for she had seized me by the knees.

“Take it back,” she said mildly.

“Mag!” I cried. “If I fall I will break my neck!”

“You will bruise at worst,” she said mildly. “You have fallen from here before—on previous occasions when you refused to apologize for your rudeness.”

“Mag!” She did not reply. “Sten!”

“You are on your own, I am afraid,” said Sten.

“I think I feel my grip slipping,” said Mag, whose fingers had not budged whatsoever. “You had best hurry.”

“I am sorry,” I said through clenched teeth.

“For?”

“For calling you a leech.”

“Which I am not.”

“Which you are not.”

Mag yanked, and I flew back atop the boulder to land in a heap. “There now,” she said, dusting off her hands—I did not miss the implication that I was unclean. “Was that so difficult?”

“It is not very fair of you to treat your friends this way,” I said. “If every argument comes to a scuffle in the end, no one will countermand you, since they know they will end up losing.”

“But that is just the point,” said Mag, settling herself down next to Sten again and clasping his hand. “Who wants to be argued with?”

I thrust out a finger at her and opened my mouth, ready to go on. But Sten caught my gaze in