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

That was a disturbing thought to Sun. After a moment’s consideration, she thought she knew why. “But then, to what end? You say that you and I are rooting out evil, the way you and Mag did when you were younger. But if there is still evil today, is that not discouraging?”

Albern only smiled. “Good folk always seek a permanent end to evil. That is … well, I will not say it cannot be done, but it never has been done. But, after fighting for a time, of course someone is entitled to some well-earned peace. This, too, comes to us in ones and twos. A woman like Duana leaves the army in her autumn years, starting the trade she has long desired to practice. A couple like Mag and Sten meet, and fall in love, and build a life together.”

Sun’s voice grew hushed. “Yet evil found them in the end.”

His expression dampened. “It did, at that. Because peace, like war, comes in ones and twos, and rarely to a whole nation, or the world. The world will never know peace. Not forever. But some people can. Doing good in your youth should, if fate is kind—which it sometimes is, despite appearances—let you enjoy a better world towards the end of your days. And that is no small thing to achieve.”

Sun sighed, not entirely comforted. After all, Albern was close to the end of his days, and he did not live a peaceful life. But it seemed cruel to say so.

They had neared Bertram’s southeast gate. Above them, the sky was now grey and hazy, the combined smoke from thousands of fires drifting up into the clean air. Here, the Bluewater and Blackwind rivers joined as they came leaping down out of the Greatrock Mountains to the east. Their mingled waters were called the Fangrong, and that great river ran to Dorsea’s western coast.

Bertram had once been the capital of the kingdom, and it was easy to see the marks of that heritage in its bearing. The walls were among the tallest Sun had ever seen. Long, weighted banners by the gate bore a Dorsean longsword surrounded by a circle of stars, all yellow, on a red field. Over the walls, she could glimpse tall towers with the red tile roofs that were common across Dorsea, and balconies that surely gave a breathtaking view of the surrounding land.

Where the twin rivers met the eastern wall, they churned through two river gates. As the day cooled, the waters threw a slight mist into the air that gave everything a pleasantly dreamy quality. All of it made the approach to Bertram feel like riding up to a place from an Elf-tale, something half-hidden in clouds of vapor and magic, all of which might vanish if Sun turned her back on it.

But thoughts of her family would not leave her, and they spoiled the moment’s enchantment.

Albern glanced at her from the corners of his eyes. “You seem nervous.”

“Of course I am,” said Sun. “Soon, we will be in Bertram. If my parents will discover me anywhere, it is likely to be here.”

Albern seemed to think about that for a moment. He was silent so long that Sun finally looked over at him. His brow had furrowed, and his lips pursed, like a man trying to find words for a strange feeling.

“Out with it,” she said. “What are you thinking?”

“I am trying to find a way to say what I mean without cruelty,” he said slowly. “I understand your fear, Sun. And yet, I think you place too much stock in it.”

Her brows rose. “Oh? Do you see my caution as foolishness?” She tried to keep her words light, but they held a bitter undertone.

“Not at all,” said Albern. “But it is unhealthy to let fear rule our lives.”

Sun wanted to tell him that she was not frightened, that she was only trying to be prudent. But as she thought on it, she realized that he was right. She was afraid. The thought of being dragged back into her old life—and the consequences she might face from her parents—was worse than she wished to contemplate.

She gritted her teeth. “I do not think the two of us can withstand my family’s guards if they try to recover me.”

“Yet we do not know if they will even find us,” said Albern. “And we might ask others for assistance, if it should come to that. I have many friends in the city. And aside from that … well.” His face broke into a broad grin, so pure that Sun felt her fear diminish. “I think you will greatly enjoy yourself here. Indeed, Sun, I think you will be reluctant to leave Bertram once we are done.”

Sun snorted. “Of all you have said, I find that hardest to believe.”

“Stories and belief.”

They stopped talking as they reached the gate. It was open wide enough for several people to pass through abreast. But two guards with spears flanked the entrance, and they held up their hands in challenge.

“You there,” said one. He was a squint-eyed man with bristling black hair and a beard to match. “Business in the city?”

“I have some friends to see,” said Albern. “Nothing terribly exciting. I am afraid we are only simple travelers.”

“Oh, we know you well enough, old man,” spat the other guard, a thin woman with a jutting chin. “Rarely could your travels be called simple, and I suspect the same could be said for your aims in Bertram.”

Albern leaned forwards in his saddle, eyes narrowing. “Ah, of course. Beilin, is it not? It is a long time since I saw you last.”

Beilin spat. The gob of it hit the ground a few hands away from Albern’s horse. “Some might say not long enough.”

Sun stared flabbergasted at the guards. All her own concerns with Bertram fled her, and she could not hold her tongue. “I am a new traveler to Dorsea,