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

“Of course, Lord Telfer,” said Maia, nodding. He turned at once and made for the chamber door.

“Maia,” said Lord Telfer, just as his hand came down on the doorknob.

“Rangatira?” he said, looking back over his shoulder.

“When you are done—and only when you are done—speak with my daughter. Tell her I cannot confer with her tonight.”

Maia hesitated a moment. “My lord … if she asks to visit you here in your chamber, instead?”

“Refuse her,” snapped Lord Telfer. “This is no situation for one as soft as she. She would be useless, and I must have all my wits about me.”

Once again, Maia had to restrain a sigh. “Yes, my lord,” he said, and left the chamber.

He knew, of course, that Lord Telfer loved her daughter. He only wished that, for once in her life, she would show it. Even if only to him.

The trolls were still picking through the remains of Whetu’s nameless village.

Chok, their leader, stood on a hillock overlooking the village, resting on his haunches with both fists planted on the ground. His back was straight, his shoulders thrown back. His thick tongue, corded and muscular like a stout human’s arm, dug crumbs from his back teeth. As the trolls of his pack searched the buildings for plants and grains and the other foodstuffs they so loved, he gave a rumbling huff of pleasure. They had eaten well already, and the feast would last into the next day.

His gaze turned upon Apok as she stepped out of one of the human homes. Her shoulders crashed into the doorframe as she passed, but it did not slow her in the least. The wood shattered under the impact, shards and splinters of it raining upon the ground. Apok paid no attention, but merely climbed the hillock towards Chok, a large cloth-wrapped bundle under her arm.

She reached him and bowed her head. Chok rose up to his full height, rolling his shoulders, a sign of calm and peace. Apok lifted her bundle and unwrapped it to reveal several brown loaves of bread.

“More food?” she asked, lifting one of them towards him.

Chok grunted and took it. He broke it in half and handed one back to her before shoving the rest of the loaf into his mouth. An involuntary moan shook him as he tasted the sweetness of the baked bread. Trolls had not, in those days, learned to grow their own crops or cook their own food. The mountains they chose to live in were not well suited to farming, and they had never much wanted to bother with it in any case. But they relished the taste of the good crops we humans grew, and when they were baked or cooked into bread or other foodstuffs, with no spices to hide the natural flavor, trolls would go to great lengths to acquire and devour them.

Apok ate of her own half-loaf, only eating once Chok had already consumed his own. She watched her leader from the corner of her eye, and Chok saw it. It made him somewhat uncomfortable. Apok was a loyal follower. She did not question his plans in front of the others, and she never countermanded him. But Chok knew she did not approve of the pack’s recent actions, these attacks upon human settlements, pushing ever farther south and west. Yet even now, she only watched him, speaking no word of whatever doubts she may have held.

“This was a good day,” rumbled Chok. “We have done well.”

And it was true. It had been a good day. An anger had been growing inside him, building since long before their first attack on the humans. He did not like it, but he could not deny it. Now that they had pushed even farther south, past the border of the pact, just far enough to remind the humans of their power, the anger had finally abated.

But it flared up again as he saw Dotag approaching.

Where Apok was a good follower, Dotag always cast doubt on Chok’s plans. Where Apok obeyed Chok’s orders, Dotag would only do what he was told if he was harangued, or sometimes beaten into it—even if he had suggested the plan in the first place. Every troll in the pack knew that Dotag longed for Chok’s place at the head of the pack. But Chok would die before giving it to him.

An involuntary growl rumbled through Chok’s body. Apok heard it and turned quickly. When she saw Dotag approaching, her ears spread wide from her head, and she hunched her shoulders. She did not growl, but it seemed as though she wished to.

“This was a good day,” said Dotag.

Though he had said the same thing only a moment ago, Chok felt a surge of irritation. He did not want Dotag’s agreement. He did not need Dotag’s approval.

“Get ready to leave,” said Chok. “Be ready to go when the sun rises.”

Dotag frowned. “We have not done what we came for.”

“Tell me if you think the humans will challenge us again,” said Chok, speaking louder now. “They broke the pact, and we have driven them back beyond its borders. They will obey it now, because they know we will return if they do not.”

“There are more villages,” said Dotag. “There is the city. We can go farther.”

Chok snarled and took one leap forwards, landing almost within arm’s reach of Dotag. He slammed his fists into the ground. “Stop asking for more like a greedy whelp. Look at the bounds of the pact. We are past them. We came here to keep the humans out of our land. After this, they will not creep into our mountains again. Get ready to go home.”

Dotag showed his teeth. “Gatak told us—”

“Do not speak as if Gatak leads us!” roared Chok. “Tell me where she is. Tell me how many times the moons have changed since we saw her. Be wise, and be silent.”

Now he did step within reach of Dotag. He