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

It was as though she restrained her rage just beneath the surface. It gave me the uncomfortable feeling of facing her battle-trance, but from the sharp end of her spear.

“Very well,” said Mag. “If we cannot break contract, I am afraid we must disobey orders. I mean to seek the Shades’ trail the moment the sun is down, which should be early.”

“We cannot, Mag,” said Yue. “Albern, tell her we cannot.”

I struggled for words, searching for some way to make Mag see the foolishness of her actions. Still, she held me in her gaze, and the look in her eyes was so intense that I felt incapable of gainsaying her.

Yue stepped between us, breaking my eye contact. “Albern, you are a great fool, but not this great of a fool,” she said softly. “Do the smart thing. Stay here with me tonight. Let us go and invite Nikau to stay with us—he has been trying hard enough to get inside our tent. Forget this madness.”

“If that is more important to you than finding Sten’s killer,” said Mag, “then I suppose I cannot stop you.”

Floundering, I turned to Dryleaf, who still sat motionless by the fire. “Dryleaf?” I said weakly.

But he only shook his head. “I am sorry, my boy. I have said all that could be useful. You know I think this is madness. If that does not sway you or Mag, nothing else I could say would do so.”

Mag stepped around Yue and put a hand on my shoulder, gripping it firmly. “Albern. In Northwood, we promised each other. Together until the end, until Sten was avenged. In Lan Shui, we said it again. Are you still with me?’

“Are you with me?” I said. “Why must your way be the only one?”

“Because my way leads to Kaita,” said Mag. “You would have us sit here and wait, and that is nothing either of us promised the other.”

I have lost battles in which many of my friends died. I have borne the bitter sting of watching my commander surrender to the enemy in the middle of a corpse-littered battlefield. But rarely have I ever felt so defeated as I did in that moment.

“All right, Mag,” I said quietly. “I made my pledge. If you are going, and if I cannot say anything to sway you, then yes. I am by your side. Until the end of the road.”

A beautiful smile splashed over her face as if it had been thrown there. She released a sigh, and I realized how afraid she had been that I would refuse her. But that was never a possibility, really. She turned to Yue.

“Well?” she said. “We are going. Will you turn us in to the captain? Or will you come with us? I want your sword by my side, Yue.”

Yue barely seemed to hear her. She was only looking at me. “Albern?” she said. “You agree with her?”

“I do not,” I said. “But I promised, Yue. I cannot abandon her now.”

“Hm,” snorted Yue. “I thought that promise went two ways.” She turned back to Mag. “Very well. If I am outvoted, I suppose I will come, too. I am no faithless friend. But we had best be quick about it, and quiet.”

“We will,” said Mag. “Then our course is set. Tonight, the moment the sun has gone down. The moons are full, and their light should be good for wandering.”

“All right,” I said. “But we should leave Oku. If we want to be as quiet as possible, it would be best to have just the three of us.”

“A good idea.” Mag knelt and took Oku behind the ears, scratching him fondly. It was an uncommon display of affection from her, as though she was in high spirits. But I could not shake some persistent feeling that it was an ill omen.

“Kip, boy,” she said. “Stay here with Dryleaf until we come back.”

His wide, watery eyes looked into hers, and he cocked his head. When she stood, he went to the bard and lay down by his feet. But he kept his head raised, and he did not stop looking at her. A low whine issued from his throat, and it grew louder when we started to walk away.

As we went to ready ourselves for the night, I glanced back once. Dryleaf’s blind eyes had closed, and his head bent low, pushing his long beard into his chest.

That evening, Kun sat inside his tent at one of his small desks. A letter was in his hand—a report to the Mystic chancellor of northeastern Dorsea, relating the army’s activities in the region so far. But his hand had long ago stilled at the quill, and his eyes stared at nothing. He wore his usual smile, but it was absentminded. He was thinking of Mag and me, of course, and Mag’s earnest plea to go and find the weremage.

So she lost her husband, he thought. That made sense to him. It brought many other strange things about her, and me, into a new clarity.

He thought of his sister. Dear, sweet Min. He had cared about her more than anything else in the world. He still saw her beautiful dark eyes whenever he looked at his nephew Zhen.

What would he have done, had she died from a blade instead of the wasting sickness that took her? Would he have lived his life the same way? Would he still wear the red cloak now?

He turned to the door of his tent and called out, “Bring me Lieutenant Shi.”

The decision made, his quill sped across the letter again. By the time Tou arrived to speak with him, Kun had finished. He sealed the letter and handed it to the same messenger who stepped into the tent to present Tou.

“Lieutenant Shi,” said Kun brightly. “Please, sit.”

“Captain,” said Tou, taking the seat opposite. “Thank you.”

“Of course. We all spent enough time on our feet today.” Kun’s smile widened. “I have been thinking of your sergeant’s little … outburst today.”

Tou’s face