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

would make that sound. My lungs seemed to be screaming nearly as loud, but I ignored them. I had to keep going. Mag was in trouble, and she was alone. That mattered more than any pain.

She is alone. She is alone, and I promised.

And in a bitter corner of my mind, a voice snarled, But she promised, too.

And then I came over the top of a hill. I was just in time to see Kaita plunge pace-long claws straight through Mag’s chest and into the ground.

I stood there for an eternal moment, unable to understand, unwilling to believe. The only sound was the rain slamming into the muddy ground all around us.

I almost ran forwards. Oku wavered, looking between Mag and me, waiting for the command to attack.

But those claws … Mag’s blood ….

Never had I seen a weremage in their hellskin form, but I recognized it from the tales I had heard. And if Kaita could do this to Mag, I stood no chance. I hated myself for it, but something kept me from flinging myself into certain, pointless death by Mag’s side.

I threw myself behind a nearby boulder, where I waited, panting from my desperate run. Oku darted into hiding beside me. Gritting my teeth and squeezing the stitch forming in my side, I edged out around the boulder far enough to see.

Kaita had Mag pinned to the ground. Blood flowed out of her, turning the mud into a dark slush. I could see it was not her first wound. Her lip had split, and a deep slice ran down the length of her arm.

None of it made sense. It was impossible. In more than two decades, I had never seen anyone so much as break her skin. And now she …

She is dying, I thought.

I did not want to believe it, but it was true. Any fool could see it. And Mag had to know it. But still her face was impassive, expressionless. She had her shield on her arm, and so she reached up to slam it into Kaita’s twisted face.

It was like striking a mountain. Kaita did not even flinch. Her left hand was still plunged deep through Mag’s body. Now, with her right, she snatched the shield in her massive claws and crushed it. The wood shattered to kindling. Shards of it plunged into Mag’s flesh. Kaita’s claws constricted further, and I watched them sink through Mag’s skin, into the muscle, threatening to cut the arm off. Mag’s blood flowed into the mud like a river.

The whole time, Kaita never stopped looking straight into Mag’s face. She snarled and growled with every new cut. But Mag remained stone-faced. She did not flinch as the raindrops fell right in her eyes, as another blast of lightning tore the sky in half above her.

With her left arm in Kaita’s claws, only her right arm was free—the mangled, sliced arm that had been wounded before. But one hand had been enough for the bear or the lion. So she formed her fingers into a knife, and she jabbed it towards Kaita’s eye.

Kaita was too quick. She twisted her neck, and Mag’s fingers struck her cheek instead. The bones snapped like twigs. Kaita’s spikes gouged Mag’s palm.

Kaita grinned, though it was more of a hateful snarl.

She released Mag’s shield arm. All her fingers curled into a fist except the forefinger, leaving one great, razor-sharp claw extended to a point.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she drove the claw through Mag’s throat.

Mag’s lifeblood bubbled out, gushing around the claw. Her shield arm fell to the ground, and then her spear arm. Her feet slid through the mud as her legs relaxed. But her eyes never left Kaita, even as the light inside them dimmed.

Forever.

Kaita waited a long moment, as if to be sure. Then she straightened. She looked as though she could not believe it was over.

I had almost forgotten myself as I lay hiding behind that boulder. It was as if I was not even there, as if I had become disembodied, floating over the scene like a moon in the sky, observing but unable to intervene.

But now I had a horrible thought. What if Kaita sensed me? Smelled me? Heard me?

Yet as moments kept stretching, nothing happened. If she had been the lion or even the bear, she might already know I was here, despite the rain. This creature, this hellskin form, seemed to be built entirely for strength, speed, and invulnerability. Its senses were not keen enough to detect me.

Kaita stepped back and resumed her human shape. She turned and walked away. And now I saw that the brute woman stood nearby. I had been so focused on Mag that I had not noticed her at first.

The two of them embraced. Kaita took one last look back at Mag’s fallen form. And then finally, they both turned and strode off west, to where I knew the rest of the Shades would be waiting.

Steady tears poured down my face, and I could not restrain my deep, sobbing breaths, though I tried to keep them quiet. Oku kept whining softly. I held a steady hand on his head, my fingers deep in his sodden fur, though I could not tell you whether it was for my comfort or his.

Finally, slowly, I stood from my hiding place and went to Mag. She still stared upwards, right where Kaita’s horrid face had been. Oku trotted around to her other side.

I fell to my knees in the mud. Rainwater poured over me, soaking through my clothes, but I did not care. I could not deny what had happened, but neither could I believe it, and I would not accept it. Mag was never supposed to die. Eternal, Chausiku had called her, and he was right. She was too strong, too incredible—larger than life and certainly too remarkable for death. She was never supposed to go.

Especially if it meant leaving me here on my