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

A fighting force lives a very different life on the march than at home. Wise officers give their soldiers a routine, and wise soldiers follow it. Though it may sound silly, lives may be lost because of the smallest of forgotten details. A battle may turn because you did not build a tent line straight, which led to an injury in the night, which held up the march for an hour, which allowed your enemy to surprise you. Or you may arrive to battle exhausted because many in the camp were woken by the commotion of the night before.

There are also smaller tricks to make the journey easier for each soldier. On the first night of our westward march, I came upon Jian unloading her whole pack and laying out all its items.

“You would do better to save your effort,” I told her. “I doubt you will use half those things tonight, and then you will only have to pack them again in the morning.”

She paused, frowning down at her pack and pushing back her rakish hair. “But I did not bring much. It only takes a few moments.”

“A few moments now may seem trivial,” I told her. “But in the morning, you will be even more tired and sore than you are now. Then you will throw your things haphazardly into your pack, which will bounce on its straps all day, tiring you further.”

“Trust him, girl,” said Hallan, whose own tent was nearby. His fiery beard jumped as he pointed up at me. “He’s legged more leagues and fought more fights than even me, though he be younger.”

Jian shrugged. “Very well. I suppose I will listen to so very many years of experience.”

“Fair enough,” I said with a smirk. I went on down the line to inspect the rest of them, giving Hallan a nod of gratitude as I went. He waved it off with a smile and began to clean his new spectacles.

Mag and I impressed these little details upon our squadrons as best we could. I noticed that when we did, Tou listened attentively as he stroked his goatee. Before long, I caught him passing our words on to the other sergeants in our company. I suspect he even conferred with the other lieutenants and passed them the same information, for I soon noticed most of the army doing as we had instructed our squadrons.

A hard march through the day under Kun’s watchful eye and a tent shared with Yue at night. Life had taken on the routines of the mercenary days of my youth, and I found myself not displeased.

At the end of the day after Yue joined us, we made camp at the northern edge of the Carrweld Forest. Mag had been quiet throughout the day. I wondered if she was thinking of Shuiniu, the village where she had grown up. It was just there, just a little ways into the forest. As we had ridden throughout the day, I had kept an eye to the south. Whenever I saw a road or a hunting trail, I wondered if we could have followed it south until it reached Mag’s old home. We could not take the time to visit now, of course. Kun would never allow it, and we were on contract now—we were bound to remain with the army until our next stop in a town or city, on pain of punishment. Yet I was filled with a sudden desire to go to Shuiniu, to see the streets that Mag walked as a child, to visit the people who had known her when she was young.

“You are very quiet,” said Yue, driving such thoughts away. “What troubles you?”

We were sitting side by side as we ate our supper. Everyone had left us to eat alone, which I appreciated—I had been surrounded by bodies and shouting voices all day during the march. Now it was quite pleasant to take in a quiet moment with Yue’s comforting presence by my side. The evening was milder than they had been of late. Though the sky was dark with clouds, there was no rain, and we had found a log to give us a dry place to sit, free of the slushy snow that covered the ground.

“Oh, nothing very important,” I answered, glancing around to make sure Mag was not near. “That forest there is called the Carrweld. Mag grew up in a town there, and I wondered if she was homesick.”

Yue snorted. “Strange. It is hard to imagine her growing up anywhere. Something about that woman feels eternal, as though she sprang out of the ground full grown.”

I shook my head. “You exaggerate. But then, you are not the first to do so. Many people see her remarkable skill at fighting and ascribe all sorts of other wild notions to her. I suppose I have been guilty of it myself. Mayhap that was why I was so surprised, though I should not have been, to learn she had had a whole life before we ever met.”

“Of course she did,” said Yue. “We all do. You scarcely know anything about me in the time before we met, and I know precious little of you, aside from what happened to you in Northwood. Though I imagine you were a troublemaker even before then.”

That cast a dark pall over my mood, and Yue saw it. She frowned, leaning forwards to get a better look at me.

“What?” she said. “What is it?”

I had a sudden urge to avoid her gaze. “The battle of Northwood was a dark day,” I said. “But the time before it was hardly better. I had not thought of it in some time.”

Her brows rose. “It must have been bad for you to compare it to Northwood.”

“It was,” I said. “I lost—” I cut myself short. “It was,” I said finally.

Yue waited through a long moment of silence. Then she nudged me with her elbow. “You lost what? Your favorite dog?”

Oku’s head came up,