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

darkened. “Ser. I spoke with them immediately after our council. I assigned Mag’s squadron to latrine duty for the next three days, and I gave Albern and Yue strict warnings about—”

Kun cut him off with a raised hand. “All appropriate reactions. But I find myself thinking of Mag and her purpose for being here. Purpose drives us, Lieutenant. None take the red and rods but those who have a desire to protect the nine kingdoms—or none should, at any rate. Some soldiers in this force have joined for the coin, but most are here for some other reason. I am sure there are as many reasons as there are soldiers in our force. But those purposes align in one factor: a love of Dorsea. That is what makes them invaluable to us, and through us, to the High King. And we should not disparage the varied reasons that brought them under our command, if those reasons may be aligned towards our common goal.”

Tou ducked his head. “Of course, ser. But … forgive me, but why do you tell me all this?”

A long moment passed in silence. Then Kun sighed. “I mean to let your sergeants go hunting for the Shades.”

Of all the things Tou expected to hear, that was not among them. “Ser?”

“I mean it,” said Kun. “Sergeant Telfer is an excellent tracker. Lieutenant Zhou is better, but not by much, as he told me himself. And if Albern should manage to locate the Shades, he may need Mag’s help. She was right. Zhen is already out there seeking the enemy. Better to double our chances.”

Tou’s jaw kept clenching and releasing. But if he harbored any doubts, he kept them to himself. After all, it would hardly be becoming to argue with his captain after he had just disciplined the rest of us for insubordination.

“Very good, ser,” he said. “Shall I give them their orders in the morning?”

“You had better do it now,” said Kun, glancing at the tent flap. “Night has fallen. They will want to leave first thing in the morning, I imagine, and so they will want to turn in as early as possible.”

“I believe the three of them have already gone to bed,” said Tou. “I will tell them now in any case, even if I have to wake them, so they can prepare whatever they will need. Thank you, ser.”

He stood from the table, saluted, and left. Kun watched him go, still smiling. He pinched the bridge of his nose and pushed back, rubbing at his eyes, the smile never fading.

But it vanished when Tou came running back to his tent only a few moments later.

“Ugh,” said Sun. “You mean he caught you?”

“I am afraid so,” said Albern. “Well, caught is not quite the right word … but you will see what I mean a bit later in the story.”

“Before you tell it, though, I have another question,” said Sun.

Albern’s brows shot for the sky. “Do you indeed? Mark this moment—the first time you asked me to stop telling the story so that we could talk about something else.”

“You are most amusing,” said Sun, no hint of a smile on her face. “But the question is, in fact, about the tale. When you spoke of Mag hearing about Dragons for the first time …” A shadow seemed to cloud the day, and they both shuddered until it passed. “You mentioned she had no parents. Why not?”

“Well, she must have had parents,” said Albern. “Everyone does, after all. But if they ever did tell her tales of Dragons, she had long since lost those tales by the time she met Duana and came to Shuiniu.”

Now, I told you that Duana was a veteran of the Dorsean king’s wars. This was not, of course, King Jun, whose death had sparked the civil war in which we found ourselves. Duana was older. She had fought under Jun’s father, Wolin of the family Fei, and had served him with honor.

But when Duana came back from the war, she had many scars, and not all of them were of the skin. I am sure you know of veterans who suffer from maladies of the mind. Sometimes Duana would find herself growing anxious when there was no reason to be, breaking out in cold sweats and jerking at the smallest sound. It would come and go in waves, like a fever that resurges after starting to break.

This might have been why Duana knew the signs of Mag’s distress when she first told her of Dragons. She knew how unreasoning such terror can be, and how small and weak Mag must have felt before the images in her mind. Thoughts are but wisps and gossamer to most people, but to some, they hold a terrifying power—and sadly, that power is usually wielded most harshly against those who should be in control of it.

The townsfolk in Shuiniu understood this, as do most in the nine kingdoms. They would leave Duana alone if that was what she required, or stay with her and hold her hand through her tremors if she asked them to. But most of the time, when Duana’s attacks would grow too much to bear, she would take a long stick and go walking through the woods. That forest was called the Carrweld, as I have mentioned before, and it was peaceful. Beneath the trees, with birds singing and only the sound of her footsteps to accompany her, Duana would find peace again. Her body would gradually calm, her shakes ceasing, her breath coming free and easy.

But one day, the woods were not so peaceful. One day, just as Duana had overcome her fear, she heard something moving in the underbrush nearby.

Duana’s pulse raced again—but this time, it was under control. She gripped her walking stick in both hands, holding it before her in readiness.

The sound came once more. The creature was coming closer. Grimacing at the walking stick