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

“I am the guide,” I grumbled, “and a wise woman listens to her guide when he says something is wrong.”

Mag chuckled at that. Then she pointed over her head at the horses. “What are you going to name your gelding, by the by? Bad luck cannot be far off if you continue to ride him nameless.”

“You think I am not already overwhelmed with bad luck? I am by your side, am I not?”

A rock came flying, striking me right between my legs. I gasped and rolled on my side, clutching myself as I fought a wave of nausea.

“You have not chosen a name, then?” she said innocently. “Come, Albern, you know you tempt fate.”

“Dorsean superstition,” I wheezed.

“If you have not noticed, we are in Dorsea, or near enough to it,” she retorted. “Some guide you are, forgetting which kingdom you are in.”

I blinked away the last of my tears. “Very well,” I said grumpily. “I shall call him Foolhoof, if it pleases you.”

She raised her brows. “I cannot say that it does.”

“And your mare? You have not named her, either.”

“Oh, but I did,” said Mag. “She is called Mist.”

I snorted. “Mist. You are like Loren, naming her black horse Midnight. No imagination at all.”

“Midnight is a foolish name,” said Mag, smirking.

“She is a child with dreams of being a legend,” I said, waving a hand. “What do you expect? Sky above, she calls herself the Nightblade.”

Mag laughed. “Still, you wound me. Mist is a better name by far.”

“I think you made it up on the spot,” I retorted. “If you named her before this very moment, I will eat my bow.”

“You have caught me,” said Mag, bowing her head.

“You see? And you had the gall to say I tempted fate. What tragedy will your destiny heap upon you for such a transgression?”

The smile on her face died at once. “I think it has given me quite enough already,” she said, in a horribly forced attempt at nonchalance.

I cursed myself for my foolish words. Yes, we had remembered many of our old habits from our mercenary days. But I had forgotten that campfire talk was supposed to steer away from bad fortune, and especially the grief of the near past.

The rest of our conversation that night was stilted and awkward, and I was grateful when I finally rolled myself in blankets to sleep.

Far, far away, in the woods northwest of Lan Shui, a creature stalked through the woods.

Through the trees, it could see the soft glow of firelight shining through the windows of a human home. And even through the walls, it could smell its prey inside. There were several of them—enough to feed on for days.

The creature knew that would not sate its deeper, stronger hunger. But it was enough for now.

It came out of the woods and stalked forwards, approaching the house’s front door. Each motion was virtually silent. The smell of the humans in the house was nearly overwhelming. It ran a black tongue along its browning teeth.

Suddenly there came the sound of padded feet inside the house, and a snuffling. Then a low, rumbling growl.

A surge of hate and hunger ripped through the creature. A dog. It had been so focused on its emptiness and the smell of the humans, it had missed the scent of the dog.

Careless.

It tried to step back, away from the house. But its broken claw caught on the ground, and it stumbled.

Inside the house, the dog’s growls turned to full-throated barking. Chairs scraped against a wooden floor as the humans stirred.

“Oku?” said one of the prey. “What is it?”

The creature screeched with impatience and lunged, bursting through the front door into the house. Inside, the prey shot to their feet. They had weapons close at hand, and they seized them. Standing before them was the dog: a large wolfhound almost a pace in height, brown with black spots in its fur.

The creature screamed in hatred and hunger.

Snarling furiously, the dog launched itself at the creature. But a wild swipe staved the beast off, and it slunk back, favoring a light gash in its left flank. The prey drew closer to each other and took a step forwards.

“Liu!” cried one of them. “Run into the woods! Take Oku!”

“Mama!”

The creature’s eyes shifted. Behind the three larger prey, one of their offspring stood at the back of the room, cowering in terror. Its eyes were wide, and palpable fear radiated from it.

“Go!” cried another of the prey—young, but nowhere near as young as the child. “Oku, tiss!”

The wolfhound bounded towards the child, taking his tunic in its teeth and tugging. Reluctantly, the child rose to its feet and scurried for the house’s back door, vanishing into the night. The creature dismissed it at once. It had been a tiny thing, and there were three full-sized prey still in the house—not enough to completely satisfy the hunger, but enough to stave it off for days.

Roaring in fury, it leaped and sank its claws into its first victim.

The day after we camped near the empty satyr town, we reached the crest of the western Greatrocks. Then, for the first time, I took us off the most well-worn path and up one of the side routes that climbed south, riding even higher into the peaks. South, because that was the direction of the heart of satyr territory, at least as far as I was aware. If we meant to find the elders, I was confident we would find them there.

It was not long before we started to come upon more satyr encampments and villages. These were less populated than I had imagined they would be, but they were not entirely abandoned. I spent almost half an hour scouting the first one we came upon. Many satyrs moved from building to building, but from what I could tell, there were no fighters in the village, only children and those caring for them. The warriors were elsewhere.