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

could sense Apok just behind him, ready to help if it should come to blows. But he did not need her help to defeat Dotag. Age made him huge and strong. None of the pack could challenge him—not that any but Dotag would dream of trying.

Dotag took a submissive step back, but despite his fear, he glared up at Chok. “Gatak will return. When she does, you will not be so brave. She brings a new master. One stronger even than you.”

All the anger within Chok came surging up. He leaped forwards and seized Dotag’s neck, throwing him down on his back. Both stony fists rose and came crashing down on Dotag’s chest. The smaller troll gave a rumbling shout of pain. Chok wrapped his massive right hand around Dotag’s cringing face and brought their eyes within a handbreadth of each other.

“How would you know what strength is?” he growled at Dotag.

He shoved Dotag’s head into the ground and turned, striding away from the village. Just before he crested a hillock and passed out of sight, he gave a great roar and slammed his fists into the ground, creating two craters large enough for a child to sit in. The trolls in the village looked in that direction for a moment, and then they returned to their scrounging.

Dotag fought his way back to his feet, trying not to wince at the pain in his chest. Apok looked disgustedly at him, and other nearby trolls gave him quick sneers. He glared at them, showing his teeth again.

Chok had to die. Dotag had wanted to kill him and take control of the pack for as long as he could remember, for seasons beyond counting. The pack thought Chok was strong, but he had a weak heart. Chok could not see the coming future. Not the way Dotag could.

He had intended to wait for Gatak’s return before he challenged Chok. But as he lumbered into the village, searching for more scraps, he began to plan.

We returned to Opara. Tuhin tried to insist that we bring them to the Mystics for inspection, but we refused. If we took the matter to the Mystics, there would be awkward questions about why we thought the Rangatira’s lead ranger might be a weremage, and that would be bad for everyone involved. We settled for taking Tuhin back to the Rangatira, and his own wizards confirmed that Tuhin was who they appeared to be.

“Well, at least you know something more than you did,” said Tuhin amiably. “And you now have a valuable skill indeed, as you continue to hunt your weremage.”

After that, we had to report to the Rangatira. Tuhin told him that we had not found the weremage, but that we had stumbled upon a cluster of Shades in the wilderness. Lord Matara looked quietly suspicious, but he did not question us, and he set about making plans to increase his guard so that the Shades would not be able to claim another stronghold in his lands.

We took advantage of his gratitude to solve another problem. Now we meant to ride into Calentin, across the domains of two different Rangatira on our way to Tokana. Armed travelers needed an official writ to pass through another lord’s domain, and that writ had to state the purpose of their journey. We were able to convince Lord Matara that we had not received such a writ when we began our hunt, since we had ridden out of Calentin, not into it. Tuhin spoke on our behalf as well, urging the Rangatira to help. He agreed, giving us a writ in his own hand. It would let us ride unhindered all the way to Tokana.

All our affairs that afternoon took only a few hours, but I chafed at what seemed an unforgivable delay. I could not stop hearing Hoko’s words in my mind. The weremage was headed for Tokana. I did not know her aim, but I knew it had to be evil. Despite what I have told you already about bad blood with my family, the thought that they were in danger from the Shades filled me with a sick terror, and I could not pull my thoughts away from it. And we did not know when the weremage had left. At best, the journey home would take us just over two weeks. Who knew what havoc she might wreak in that time?

I was all for riding out that very night, but by the time we were done with Conrus, the sun was close to setting. Mag insisted we spend one more night in Opara before we set out, and once he heard our tale, Dryleaf agreed with her.

“You have been long on the road, my boy,” he told me. “The journey here might have been gentler to you than it was to me, but not by much. Sleep in a soft bed while you can, lest you find yourself ill prepared for the end of your road.”

Mag and I had heard that wisdom many times in our days as sellswords, but now I chafed at the advice. Still, with both of them set against me, I had to relent. We spent another night in Conrus’ keep, sleeping in comfort and with good food in our bellies. But I asked his servants to wake us at least an hour before dawn, and when they did, I roused the others quickly. We were riding north before the sun showed its face.

Thus began our journey north through Calentin. My hope that we could reach Kahaunga in two weeks proved futile. The early days of winter unleashed their full strength upon us. Snow and ice-cold rain plagued our road north. I bought sturdier cloaks—two for Dryleaf—and pressed on as hard as I dared. But still I despaired at our pace.

My sour mood, however, hardly seemed to affect my comrades. Mag and Dryleaf knew the importance of our mission, so they were not exactly