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

Mag’s grip, and so Mag released her wrists and took a step back. But I saw that her foot stayed close to the halberd, ready to kick it away if the woman should reach for it.

The guard rolled her head and felt gingerly at her throat, where Mag’s spear had pressed against it. “Thank you. In answer to your question … word has reached Huzen that King Jun is dead. May he be safe in the darkness. Wojin has taken the throne.”

“Dead?” said Dryleaf. “How?”

The woman’s face turned sour like old milk. “Wojin says the High King sent an assassin.”

I could only stare at her. That was patently ridiculous. What possible reason could the High King have had for such an act?

“Who is this Wojin you speak of?” I asked the woman. “I do not know that name.”

But it was Dryleaf who answered. “He is—or was—Jun’s uncle.” He cocked his head. “But he is not next in the line of succession. That would be His Excellency, Prince Senlin. What happened to him?”

“Wojin says that the High King’s assassins killed him as well,” said the guard, her eyes flashing. “But I do not believe it, and neither did my companions, and neither does the mayor. We are servants of the king, not Wojin and his hired thugs. It is Wojin’s men who have attacked the town, for the mayor refuses to swear fealty to him. He thinks—and I agree—that Wojin staged a coup.”

“With help from the Shades,” said Mag, her eyes widening.

The guard turned to her, incredulous. “How do you know that?”

“We do not know it,” I said. “Not for certain. But we are roughly as certain of it as you are that the High King did not have King Jun killed.”

Mag grimaced at me. “It would seem, then,” she said slowly, “that these are loyalists to Jun, the true king.” She bowed her head to the woman. “I would never have attacked you if I had known. I beg your forgiveness—and theirs.”

I held up a hand. “To be fair to ourselves, we did ask politely to leave, at first. And in that spirit, please apologize to your friends on our behalf, when they wake up with bruises.”

“I shall consider doing so,” said the guard. She eyed her halberd, but if she thought to seize it, it was only for a wistful moment. She motioned us forwards. “Go on, then, since I clearly cannot stop you.”

In a moment, I had the gate up, while Mag kept a wary eye on the woman, just in case. Then we were through and out into the open countryside, while Huzen burned in battle behind us.

But as the guard went to rouse her comrades and rally them to the fight, two more figures slipped out the gate. They faded into the wilderness at once, following the tracks of our horses. One of them had a heavy scar on his left cheek.

We rode west until Huzen was out of sight, and then we rode a while longer, for safety. On a bank overlooking a small stream, we pitched our tents to camp overnight. Mag watered the horses while I took a hatchet and began cutting wood for a fire. I ended up cutting more than we needed. It felt good to slam my hatchet into the wood over and over again, taking out my frustration at our formless foe and rapidly worsening circumstance.

All the while, Dryleaf sat on a rock, his sightless eyes staring into nothing. “A civil war,” he said after a time. “A civil war in Dorsea. Something I never thought to see.”

“Nor did any of us, I am certain,” said Mag. “Yet war threatens all of Underrealm.”

“Conflict between two kingdoms is one thing,” said Dryleaf. “Even the rebellion of a king against the High King—well, while it is hardly common, neither is it unheard of. But a king’s soldiers killing each other in the streets … that is something else. In the turmoil of these times, I fear conflicts like these will cause the greatest harm: a nation turned on itself, kin against kin. Such a thing has hardly been seen since the days of Roth himself.”

“I have no doubt the Shades are behind it,” I said.

“Of course,” said Mag with a shrug. “They have been behind every crisis we have seen on our long road.”

Dryleaf sighed. “I am sure you are both right. It fairly stinks of their work. They have perfected the art of sending others to do their fighting for them.”

“If only they would show their faces,” said Mag. “I would give much to capture even one of them, to trace our way to Kaita.”

“But now she will be heavily protected,” said Dryleaf. “She must have rejoined her allies. Thus our way seems unclear. What are we to do?”

“Find Kaita,” said Mag at once.

“Without getting ourselves killed,” I added.

She smiled. “In a perfect world, yes.”

“Mag.”

“Dearest Albern.”

“Mag.”

“I am mostly joking.”

“Mag.”

Dryleaf wore a frown, and he began to stroke his beard. “Mayhap Kaita should not be our focus—our primary focus, I mean, for the time being.”

I arched a brow. “Oh? What do you have in mind?”

“We could seek Loren,” said Dryleaf. “Kaita has allies now—and even more than we thought if Dorsea now works with the Shades. Mayhap we should acquire some friends of our own.”

Mag’s levity vanished in an instant. A very curious expression came over her—uncertainty, anxiety, and … and something else I could not quite identify. I frowned as she shook her head.

“Loren and the others could be anywhere,” she said at last. “Who knows how long it would take to find them? What strength might Kaita gather to herself in that time?”

I hesitated. That reasoning made sense. Yet I could not shake an uneasy feeling that there was more to it. Mag almost seemed to feel … guilty.

Dryleaf’s expression had fallen, and he shook his head. “My dear, I think we must be honest with ourselves. We have