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

He lifted a foot to step towards Dibu and demand the yield.

Dibu’s hand flashed out, seizing his broken shield where it had fallen. He flung it across the mud, and it cracked into Tou’s shin. The Mystic slipped on the slush and went crashing into the ground. Dibu sprang, and when he came up, his sword was in his hand.

In an instant, he was standing with one foot on Tou’s sword wrist, the tip of the blade at his throat.

Everything went completely silent. I believe I was even holding my breath. Dibu, on the other hand, was panting heavily, and his close-cropped hair was soaking with sweat and mud.

“Do you yield?” said Dibu, between gasps.

Tou looked up at him, brows raised in surprise, clearly impressed.

“I yield.”

Our squadrons erupted in cheers and yells. They flooded into the ring, surrounding Dibu and pounding him on the back, ignoring the winces they drew through his embarrassed smile. I half thought they were going to lift him and carry him out of the ring on their shoulders.

“Troops!” barked Mag suddenly. “Attention!”

Everything fell silent again as our squadrons turned, hands slapping to their sides.

All eyes went to Kun, who still stood on the side of the ring. His eternal smile had returned. But I saw ice in his eyes as he looked down at Tou, who still lay on the ground. A long moment passed.

“Clearly, I should have chosen another champion,” he said at last. “But, well. What can one do in the face of such disappointment?” Then he turned to Mag and me. “Congratulations. The terms of our agreement have been satisfied, and you are now militia serving under the Mystic order. And what good fortune for all of us, for we march to war tomorrow.”

He gave Tou one last look. “There will be a council in my tent at sundown. I expect to see you there, and not covered in mud.”

Kun turned on his heel and strode off, his two Mystic guards at his side.

We waited a respectful length of time—mayhap not until he was out of earshot, but certainly until he was out of sight. Then I turned to Mag and arched an eyebrow. She smiled, and together we turned back to our squadrons.

“As you were,” I said.

The cheers resumed. Now they did lift Dibu by the legs, hauling him into the air and carrying him off. Dibu let out halfhearted cries of protest. He turned back as they bore him away, looking at Tou, who had not yet risen. It seemed Dibu wanted to help his opponent to his feet, for honor’s sake, but the rest of the squadron would not have it.

Well. Dibu deserved his celebration. And so I walked to Tou and reached down. Tou sighed, took my wrist, and let me haul him to his feet. He did his best to dust himself off, but with the heavy mud and slushy snow clinging to him, I am afraid it did not do much good.

“It shall be a while before I recover from that,” he said.

“He barely touched you,” said Mag.

“It was not my body that suffered injury, but my pride.” He stopped wiping the mud off and gave us both a stern look. “It is important to me that you both know: I did not let him win. That was a clever ploy on his part.”

“Trust me, I am aware,” I said. “I saw the look on your face when you went for him. And neither of us holds your effort against you. You were following your captain’s orders.”

“We are only happy Dibu prevailed,” said Mag. But she could not entirely hide another smile. “And if we are being honest with each other, I think you might be somewhat happy about it, too.”

Tou’s cheeks flamed, and he cleared his throat as he turned away. “It will certainly be good to have the two of you around for the coming fight,” he said, absently running a hand through his goatee, which streaked it with mud.

“Hm,” said Mag.

“In any case, thank you,” I said, and held out my hand. Tou took my wrist, and we shook firmly. “You have been of immense help during the training, and our squadrons have reaped the benefits. Though you lost the match, you also shared in the victory.”

Tou shook his head slowly. “I do not know what madness is upon you that makes you want to be part of this war so badly,” he said. “But the High King’s forces need all the help we can get, and yours more than most. I only ask that you do not make me regret it.”

“I promise,” said Mag. “You will be glad we are here when it comes time to fight.”

After Dibu’s trial, we had little time to celebrate. Kun had ordered a march for the next morning, and that meant the rest of our day would be spent in furious preparation. Before setting our squadrons to their tasks, Mag and I conferred with Dryleaf.

“Where do you think we are going?” I asked.

“Who knows?” said Mag. “I am sure Kun would not tell us even if we asked.”

“Yet he may have told others,” said Dryleaf. “You two must see to your preparations, but I will be of little use in that. Let me instead see what I may learn. I should tell the Guild of Lovers, in any case—I am certain they will want to know, and doing them a small favor may repay us all in the end.”

“An excellent idea,” said Mag, nodding. “Let us know if you learn anything.”

Dryleaf gave her a smile and set off towards Taitou, Oku trotting at his heels. Mag and I went to our squadrons and began prodding them into action to pack their things.

Now, even as we had been preparing for Kun’s test, the rider had been making her way across the land in search