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

We advanced into the tunnel. But this time, I moved with more speed. I was not as afraid they would turn and try to fight us in the tunnel—if that had been their plan, they would simply have done so at the entrance. No, I suspected they were making for an exit with all speed. But they would still be hampered by their wounded. We could come upon them in the open and cut them down as they fled. We only had to press a little farther, a little faster, a little deeper into the darkness.

The passage twisted, it turned, it climbed. Once, we had to put our weapons away and haul ourselves hand over hand up a short rock wall. The cold of the outside world was long forgotten, and I bemoaned my heavy winter cloak that was now soaked with sweat instead of rainwater.

I could see the footsteps plainly in the torchlight. They began to look more hurried, as though the Shades had started to run through the darkness. And then I felt it—a cool breeze wafting towards us. The icy air of the outside world once again kissed my skin, giving relief against the heat.

“Captain!” I called out down the tunnel behind me. “An exit!”

And then the breeze came again, carrying other things this time.

To my nose, the scent of burning. And to my ears, the sound of screams.

My heart nearly stopped.

No, I thought. Sky above, no. Please.

The moment he realized where we were, Captain Zhou pushed past me. He abandoned his Mystics, Mag and me, our squadrons, everyone. He ran out of the cave entrance, scrambled over the boulders that hid it from view, and went sprinting into the destroyed remains of our camp.

“Zhen!” he cried out. “Report! Lieutenant Zhou! Nephew! Report!”

He did not hear the voice he sought. Instead, a Mystic knight appeared. Her left hand clutched her right shoulder, which was bleeding heavily. The arrow stuck out of both sides of the wound, and the woman gritted her teeth through the pain.

“Captain,” she gasped. “Thank the sky you—”

“Lieutenant Zhou,” snapped Kun. “Where is he?”

The knight went very still. “Captain. He …”

Kun pushed past her, ignoring her grunt of pain as he jostled her shoulder. He ran to the north end of camp, where Zhen’s company of soldiers had been.

Had been.

Nearly the entire force lay dead. Arrows had pierced them; axes had hewn them. The Shades had come out of the hills from the west, and they had found most of Zhen’s company still asleep. Our enemies had cut them down even as they struggled to emerge from their tents. Some were alive, moaning and crying out in the snow. Few of them would survive the night.

And there was Zhen.

He was near the front line, where the fighting had started. He had not slept after we left. He had meant to stand vigil through the night, waiting for his uncle and the rest of us to return. But then he had heard the sounds of fighting to the west, and he had raced towards them. Two new, much larger wounds now joined the angry scar on his cheek. A blade had pierced his throat, and an arrow stood straight up from his chest like a flagpole. His face was a battle-grimace, determined, resolute.

Doomed.

Kun fell to his knees. His hands shook as he held them out. His nephew, his sister-son, stared past him into the empty black sky, seeing nothing through those familiar eyes. Slowly Kun scooped him up, gripping the boy by the shoulders and pulling him into his lap. There he held him tight, taking off his own cloak to wrap around the boy, as if hoping to bring some warmth back to the rapidly-freezing skin.

Mag, Yue, and I had gone running through the camp like Kun. But we ran for the train, where we had last seen Dryleaf.

Everything was chaos. The Shades had slaughtered drivers, they had broken wagon wheels, they had spilled every store of food and drink into the snow.

The army’s very guts lay spread upon the ground. Losing Zhen’s company was a devastating blow, but the loss of the supply train was mayhap even more damaging. Kun would have none of the supplies he needed to carry on. The Shades had taken or destroyed nearly everything, everything but—

My heart melted with relief as I saw the blue silk coverings of the wagon from the Guild of Lovers. It was untouched. The Guild was protected, both by edicts of the High King and by laws older than Underrealm itself. After all, what use to kill lovers in war, when their rules keep them from taking sides in a conflict? I had not been sure the Shades would respect such boundaries. But they had, and the lovers favored Dryleaf. Mayhap …

We ran to the wagon. “Dryleaf!” I cried. I seized the flap and threw it open.

At once, I fell back, landing hard on my rear. Knives flashed at me out of the darkness, the light of campfires glinting off their steely edges. I scrambled up, holding my hands high, while Mag and Yue did the same. From inside the wagon came a great peal of barking.

“Hold!” cried Yue. “We mean no harm.”

Orla and Nikau saw us, and they lowered their knives. The other lovers took the cue and did the same, though they still watched us warily. Oku came bounding out of the wagon, whining and sniffing at my boots.

“Orla,” I said. “Dryleaf. Did he—”

“He is here,” she said, scooting aside. Nikau pulled back a blanket, and there was Dryleaf, cradled among the lovers.

I gasped, and Yue put a hand to her mouth. Dryleaf had taken a nasty blow to the head. They had wrapped bandages around it, but it was bleeding heavily, and the cloth was almost soaked through. The old man’s eyes were closed, and his breath