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

call me Bracken. But after Loren, I had thought I would be done. My bones were already getting too old for travel, and the Birchwood seemed a good place to live out the end of one’s life. I had only just resigned myself to do so in Lan Shui instead, when you arrived.”

“But Dryleaf,” said Mag. “Or, wait. Should we call you Bracken?”

He waved a hand. “No, no. One name is as good as another after all these years, and I will not say the name my parents gave me, for there is a reason I left it behind so long ago.”

“Very well,” said Mag. “My question is: what now? You know Loren was making for the Seat, and you are free from Lan Shui. Do you wish to run off and find her?”

“We could make arrangements,” I said.

Dryleaf settled deeper into his chair and sighed. “I will not lie to you: I greatly wish to go. But no. For now, at least, it is enough for me to know that she escaped her parents. I am content to remain with you for a while yet.” His lips curled in a smile. “You may need my help, after all. And besides, it seems likely that you shall cross paths with Loren again, and mayhap sooner than later.”

“That is my wish,” I said.

“Then until that day,” said Dryleaf, “I will happily ride by your side, if you will continue to have me. But wait!” Suddenly his face lit up, and he gave a broad grin. “We must write her at once.”

I blinked. “Write her?”

“Why not?” he said. “We know where she is.”

I looked to Mag. Writing to Loren had not even crossed our mind on all the long road since Northwood—but then, we had no idea that she had succeeded in her mission. And with that came a chilling thought. “Mag,” I said quietly. “She thinks we are dead. She must.”

“Sky above,” breathed Mag.

“And I doubt she thinks I am still breathing,” said Dryleaf. “Had I thought her parents would let her read a letter, I would have written one long ago. As far as she knows, I simply disappeared.”

That settled it. We asked one of the stronghold’s servants for paper, quill, and ink. Together we sat down and drafted a letter, which Mag rendered in a firm hand. When we were done, I folded the parchment up and handed it to Dryleaf.

“I will see to the arrangements tomorrow, while the two of you are off on your adventure,” he said. “Someone should be willing to walk me to the constables’ station to send it off.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I only wish I could see her face when she reads it.”

“As do I,” chuckled Dryleaf, “though that chance passed long ago.”

“At least she will know we are alive,” I said. “And if we should meet her upon the road, and you wish to go with her then, no one will begrudge you that—least of all me.”

Mag gave me a careful look as I said it. I thought she must be wondering if I, too, would ride off with Loren, were I given the chance.

But now it was time for bed. We had spoken a good long while into the night, and we had to rise early for tomorrow’s hunt. I helped Dryleaf to his bed and retired to my own room, undressing by moonslight.

Sky above, let our hunt end tomorrow, I thought to myself. Let it be over, so that we can find the children again, and see that they are safe.

But of course, you know enough about the Necromancer’s War to know my hopes were in vain. And even today, part of me wishes I had not waited.

One of Lord Matara’s servants awoke us before dawn. Mag and I left Dryleaf asleep as we roused and dressed ourselves and then made our way out of the stronghold. The moment we set foot in the courtyard outside the keep, Oku came dashing up to us, yipping in excitement. I knelt and scratched him behind the ears.

“Did you sleep well, boy?” I said. “I hope so. We have a long journey ahead of us.”

Oku licked my fingers and trotted over to Mag, sniffing at her leg. I looked studiously away so that she could pat his head and think I had not noticed.

Tuhin soon joined us, leading a horse by the reins. Two stablehands followed, bringing Foolhoof for me and Mist for Mag. We mounted and rode through the streets of the city. Tuhin was silent as we went, and I thought they might still be ridding themself of the last vestiges of sleep. Yet they seemed alert and watchful, peering down each street as we went, though there was no one around. They even looked up into the sky. It struck me that they were likely looking for any sign that the weremage was stalking us.

Once we had left the city through the eastern gate and were a good distance away from the wall, I finally spoke. “Did you see any sign of pursuit?”

“No,” said Tuhin. “But I am always cautious when going on an expedition, especially when pursuing a wizard. They are not to be underestimated, especially weremages.”

“I have fallen out of such habits on our long road,” I said, “but I will try to resume them. I have grown nearly as lazy as Chao.” I looked over at her. “Remind me never to grow so inattentive again.”

“But what if I am too lazy to do so?” said Mag.

Tuhin smirked. “You can rest easily, Kanohari,” they said. “I saw no one paying us any undue attention.”

“That is a relief,” said Mag. “Wake me if you see any signs of danger. I will be dozing in my saddle, as it seems is my wont.”

“Oh, be silent,” I grumbled, “or we will make you ride at the head of the party.”

“But I do not want to,” said Mag, giving an exaggerated frown.