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

spear in Dulmun, so she had a simple broadsword. But she had not even bothered to draw it before flinging herself at the bear.

It growled and swiped at her, but Mag evaded the blow with such ease that she looked lazy doing it. Then her boot flew up and struck the bear hard in its chin. I heard a crunch, and its head snapped back. It gave a confused grunt.

Before it could raise another paw to strike, Mag leaped forwards and jabbed at its eyes with fingers she had pressed together like daggers. I heard a wet thunk as she pierced one of the bear’s eyes, and it gave a terrified scream of pain and fury.

It struck, but again Mag avoided the blow. When she came back up, her sword was in her hand. It sank into the soft flesh underneath the bear’s foreleg, piercing deep into its rib cage. Its cry came out wet and wheezing.

The bear turned and fled. It limped on three legs to favor the fourth that Mag had maimed. She turned to me, the battle-trance like a mask over her expression. It shook me then, as it always did.

“Are you all right?”

“Victon,” I gasped. “It is heading for Victon.”

She seized my arm and pulled me up, and together we pelted after the beast.

Its trail through the jungle was plain to see—and then, half a span before we reached the place I had left Victon, it turned right and vanished into the underbrush. I stopped at the spot, and Mag ran a few more paces before she stopped and looked back at me.

“What is it?” she said.

“It turned. Headed off that way.” I pointed where the trail had gone.

She saw the trail after I pointed it out and nodded. “I am going after it. We have to make sure it does not wander into our enemy’s camp and alert them. See to Victon.”

Without waiting for my answer, she bolted off between the trees. I carried on towards the clearing where we had been attacked. There I found Victon. He had crawled to a nearby tree and sat with his back against it, panting and grimacing, holding his side. Blood seeped out from between his fingers.

“Victon!” I cried. “Are you all right?”

I ran to him, and he smiled up at me, his white teeth shining against his dark skin. “Fine,” he said, chuckling. “Its claws got me, but not very badly.”

He lifted his hand, and I could see it was true. There was a gash, but nothing life-threatening unless it became infected.

“It needs cleaning,” I said, reaching for a flask of ale at my side. “I wish I had something stronger, but this will sting badly enough to do the job.”

“How comforting. Wait.” Victon seized the flask and took a deep pull, wincing at its poor taste. He handed it back to me. “All right.”

I poured it on the wound. Victon growled out his pain and then laid his hand back on the wound when I was done, putting pressure on it with the edge of his cloak.

“There now,” I said. “The healers back at camp can tend to it further.”

“Mag?” he said.

“Went after the bear. She did not want it to wander towards our enemies, lest they discover other soldiers are here in the jungle.”

“Smart of her,” said Victon.

“Yes, it annoys me,” I said lightly. “No one should be that good a fighter and have a mind for strategy.”

Victon chuckled. And just then, Mag returned to the clearing. The battle-trance was gone from her, and there was a deep frown on her face.

“You finished it?” I asked her.

“No,” she said. “It vanished.”

“You lost the trail? It was not exactly trying to be stealthy, after the trouncing you gave it.”

“For which I thank you, by the way,” said Victon.

“Yes,” I said. “It is not everyone who can defeat a full-grown bear with only her hands.”

Victon stared at me incredulously. “Her hands?”

“At first,” I said, smiling. “I think she wanted a challenge before she deigned to draw her sword.”

“Oh, be silent, both of you,” said Mag. “And I did not lose the trail. The bear vanished.”

I rolled my eyes and grinned at Victon. “That bolsters my confidence, at least. She may be better with a sword than anyone I have ever seen, but she is as useless in this jungle as you are, sir.”

Victon burst out laughing, though it looked like it hurt him. “You two have saved my life, and that is not something easily forgotten. Thank you. Now help me up.”

We stooped to lift him, and I walked him off through the jungle with his arm around my shoulder. Mag took his other arm, bloody sword still bare in her hand.

“You are too kind, by the way, sir,” I said. “I did not save your life. That honor was Mag’s.”

Victon grinned again. “You drew it off, and you tried to fight it, at least. We cannot all be the Uncut Lady.”

Mag grimaced. I had only recently coined that name for her. Victon and I laughed again. Our true friendship began in that moment, and it would last for the rest of our lives.

And it is rather important to me that you know this story, for reasons that shall become plain.

Our innkeeper did indeed know where the vineyards could be found, and he seemed somewhat jealous when we said we and Victon were old friends. It seemed that Victon was rather well known in the area, and his wine much sought after.

With Dryleaf in tow, we rode for the place with light hearts, for we were eager to see our friend again after so long. We cast our hoods up and moved quickly, doing our best to pass unnoticed, just in case the weremage was in the city and happened upon us by chance. We still thought we had the element of surprise. Of course, you know that all our precautions were in vain, but we did not.

We spotted Victon’s place almost from the moment