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

I glanced at the sun, which had only barely begun to sink below the horizon. “It seems to have gone rather quickly.”

Tou nodded, but he looked troubled. “It did. My company will be marching in the vanguard with the captain’s Mystics. He instructed that your squadrons be at the forefront, behind him.”

That was a surprise, though I quickly realized it should not have been. “He wishes to keep an eye on us,” I said.

His mouth twisted. “I am only passing down the order.” But I could see in his eyes that he thought I was correct. “When we muster in the morning, you know where to be.”

“Yes, ser,” I said, snapping a salute where I sat. Tou nodded and left.

Mag’s eyes were alight with excitement. “Good for us, I say. I would rather be at the front—anything to get to the Shades faster. We can help root out the Shades and end this war, Albern. I feel it.”

I chuckled. “End the war? Why, Mag. You sound almost as though you are truly committed to the fight now. I thought it was only a cover for us to find Kaita.”

She did not answer, or even change her expression. But her fist jabbed out and struck me hard in the shoulder. My whole arm went dead, and I cursed and fumed as Mag went to help Dryleaf fetch his supper.

That evening, a wagon trundled up to the camp as we were almost ready to end our night. It was covered entirely in a brilliant blue cloth of a beautiful weave. Mag and I stopped and watched it approach. Hallan and Dibu were with us, each of them discussing some final matters before the morning’s march. As the wagon drew near to us, I spied the driver—a tall, brown-skinned man with lustrous black hair down to his shoulders, supple, muscled arms, and large, strong hands. He looked like a man of Calentin, which held my attention. As the wagon slowed, he nodded to us.

“Good eve, friends,” he said. His voice was like warm, smooth liquid pouring down the nape of your neck. “We seek a friend of yours. An older gentleman named Dryleaf. Do you know him?”

“Is that Nikau?” Dryleaf thrust his head out of his tent. “Nikau, darling boy! You found me.”

Like a mirror of Dryleaf, a woman poked her head out of the blue front flaps of the wagon. She was a slim, delicate young thing, with pale Heddish skin and hair that flamed red like Hallan’s, but curly and more lustrous. She leaned her elbows on the front edge of the wagon and beamed down at Dryleaf.

“There he is!” she called sweetly. “We have arrived, dear friend, and we thought to seek a song from you before we slumber. Any journey should be blessed by merriment before it begins, or else who knows what darkness might befall it?”

“Who, indeed? Thank you, my boy,” said Dryleaf as Dibu helped him climb out of the tent and stand up. “It would be my utter joy to share songs and stories with you tonight, and on the road as well.”

“Am I to guess that you are from the Guild of Lovers?” I said.

“We are,” said the man with a knowing smile. “I am Nikau, as Dryleaf said.”

“And I am Orla,” said the woman, holding a hand towards me. I took it and kissed it. Her fingers were as soft as cream, and almost the same color. “Entirely enchanted.”

I cleared my throat. “As are we. I am Albern of the family Telfer, and this is Mag. These are Hallan and Dibu, two soldiers in our squadrons. Dryleaf has sung your praises ever since we arrived in the town.”

Orla climbed down from the wagon and wrapped her arm through Dryleaf’s, laying her head on his shoulder. “If that is true, I feel simply cheated. How could he sing without me there to hear it?”

“We shall have plenty of chances to hear him on the road, love,” said Nikau with a smile. He kept studying me. I wondered if he was as curious about me as I was about him and if he could see my Calentin features through my lighter complexion. “A pleasure to meet you both. Do not hesitate to seek us out, should you wish our services. It would be our honor to comfort the friends of Dryleaf, who we have come to love so well.”

“I shall, ah. Certainly consider it,” I said, scratching the back of my neck. “My friend Mag, however—”

Mag smirked at my obvious discomfort. “I am not a bedder. But your offer is generous and well-spoken.”

“That is well enough,” said Nikau, giving her a nod, and then me a wink.

“You are coming with us?” said Dibu. “On the march?”

Nikau gave him an easy smile. “We are. And if it means I get to see those arms of yours each day, I, for one, will do so with pleasure.”

Dibu thrust a tongue into his cheek hard to fight a smile, and he shook his head. “I thank you for the compliment. But … we are marching to war, or so we all believe. Is it not safer to ply your trade here?”

“Ye need not worry for that, boy,” said Hallan, folding his arms. He gave Nikau a nod, and Orla a wink. “Lovers are much as safe in war as they are in any town or city. Their laws forbid them from taking sides, and so why should anyone seek to harm them? Their trade’s neutral, and a help to either side. And I can say from some experience that a lover can hardly find better clientele than when traveling along with an army.”

“All very true,” said Orla, smiling at him from Dryleaf’s side. “And I do love a soldier with experience.”

Hallan bowed low, his beard pressing into his chest. “I’ll recommend some to you, then.” His eyes flitted to Nikau. “And mayhap you’ll make some recommendations as well.”

“I am sure they will