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

though pleading for mercy, but he kept smiling. “I have some ideas and some rather wild guesses. But they will sound outlandish if you do not know the story behind them. And that is the story I am telling you now.”

Sun turned away from him and looked at the road ahead. The town was far behind them, and Bertram was nowhere in sight. They were in open country, with only the Bluewater off to the south to break up the landscape. There were no answers anywhere, and no relief.

“I hate waiting,” she growled.

Albern laughed hard. “That is an understatement if ever there was one.”

It occurs to me that I have said little of Kaita.

She was in northeastern Dorsea at the time, as was our hope. In bird form, she could fly straight over landscapes through which we had to find roads to traverse. But such travel is exhausting to a weremage. A rider passes most of a journey’s weariness to their mount, where Kaita felt the full burden of it in her own body. It wore her down more and more, as the days added up to weeks and weeks grew close to months.

But where we were wandering aimlessly, she knew where she wished to go. Thus she was far away from us when she reached an outpost of Shades southeast of the Dunfen lake. There they hid from prying eyes in the thick woods, which no one has ever cleared.

In raven form, Kaita ducked below the canopy of the trees. Flitting from branch to branch, she searched for signs leading to her kindred. Weariness and anxiety made her movements sharp and jerky, and she thrashed in her flight, moving like one enthralled by mindwyrd.

But at last she spotted a path, marked by trees carved with subtle signs that one could only see if they knew what to seek. After following the signs for a league, she at last spotted the fresh-hewn timbers of the Shades’ buildings. The sight made her want to collapse from relief. Instead, she forced herself into one last desperate flight, covering the last few spans with a frenzied beating of her wings.

She landed in the center of the camp. Some Shades looked up curiously—and then all of them turned to her as her eyes began to glow, and her human form emerged from the raven’s wings and black feathers.

Her close-fitting clothes were in the Shades’ colors of blue and grey. But they were filthy with the grime of the road and threadbare from nights spent in dark dells and caves. Kaita knew it, and so she threw her hands up as the Shades drew their weapons and nocked arrows.

“I serve the master of death!” Her voice was half a croak, traces of the raven’s call still lingering in her throat. “I am Kaita. There must be at least one here who knows that name.”

For a moment, no one answered. Kaita feared they would shoot her down where she stood. Or they might take her prisoner, wasting priceless time in a cell until someone decided what to do with her.

But then, from the corner of her eye, she saw a wisp of a man straighten, sheathe his sword, and step forwards.

“Kaita?” His voice was as wonderstruck as the look in his eyes. “What in the dark below are you doing here?”

“Horata,” she gasped, and her voice nearly broke on the word. She took a step towards him, doing it slowly so that her knees did not give out. “I might ask you the same. I thought you were in Feldemar.”

“Reassigned,” he said absentmindedly. He turned to the other Shades. “I know her! Lower your weapons. Someone go and get the commander.”

The commander. Kaita’s heart leaped. “Horata, who is in charge here?”

“Tagata,” he said. Kaita’s hopes fell. “She is a—”

“I know her well,” said Kaita with a sigh. It would be a joy to see Tagata, but …. She put a hand on Horata’s shoulder, more for support than out of affection. “I thought … I hoped Rogan might be here.”

Horata looked upon her with pity. “I am sorry,” he said. “We have not seen Rogan in weeks. Not since the assault on the Seat. I thought he was at the Watcher.”

Kaita shook her head, stifling her anger to keep from snapping at him. It was hardly Horata’s fault that he was wrong. “He is not. I went there first. They had not seen him since he marched to the Seat.”

Horata frowned. “Where do you suppose he could be?”

“I do not know.” Now Kaita could not entirely keep the exasperation from her voice. “That is what I am here to find out.”

Some of her exhaustion must have shown in her bearing, for Horata stepped closer. Putting an arm around her, he led her towards the central building of the compound. “Well, let us get you some food. Not to mention a place to sit down. You look as though you have taken a long road to get here.”

“Longer than you know,” said Kaita. And though she tried hard to keep an upright, regal bearing, she leaned heavily on him. It felt strange to be walking again after so many hours of powering along on wings. “Thank you, Horata.”

Color came to his cheeks. “We are all children of the Lord. We owe each other at least so much.”

Inside was a corridor that turned immediately right and left. Horata took her to the right, where soon they came into a mess hall. Some scattered Shades were sitting about the tables, but not many, for it was between the midday meal and supper. Once he had her seated, Horata ran to the kitchen and fetched her some bread and the remains of that day’s soup.

Kaita had not realized how hungry she was until the food was before her. She tore into it like a woman starving, and when Horata fetched her some ale, she finished the first mug in but