The Tales of the Wanderer Volume One: A Book of Underrealm (The Underrealm Volumes 4) by Garrett Robinson (elon musk reading list TXT) 📕

The old man nodded. I think now, looking back upon it, that he knew his job was done. He had planted a seed of thought in my mind, the idea that my own pride might be standing in the way of my accomplishment. Dryleaf’s wisdom had been valued in Lan Shui for a reason. I think he knew that, in time, I would see the truth of his words, and come to him for the help I was not yet ready to admit I needed.

And he was right.

As you might suspect, the Shades had a stronghold in Tokana not far away from my family’s dwellings. From there they carried out their plans, organizing their efforts according to the instructions they received from Rogan far away, but dealing with ordinary day-to-day matters on their own.

And then, some time before Kaita rejoined them, they received another visitor—one they did not expect, and far removed from their usual routine. It started with shouts as guards on the wall raised an alarm. Before anyone knew what was happening, the gate burst inwards with an ear-shattering crash.

Chok, leader of the troll pack, thundered into the bailey. Standing in the center of it, he slammed his stony fists into the ground and let out a roar. Everyone in the stronghold heard it, and the Shades on the walls dropped their bows in fear.

A Heddish man named Phelan had been placed in charge of the Shades at the outpost. To his great credit, he emerged from the central stronghold to speak with Chok—though he brought a guard of six Shades to accompany him, all armed.

“Ch-Chok,” he stammered, trying and failing to wear a diplomatic smile. “What is it? What is wrong?”

The massive troll stumped up to the man, walking on all fours, his fists leaving broad cracks in the stone. He loomed over Phelan, nearly twice as tall as the man, glaring down at him with eyes that smoldered under heavy brows.

“You are still here,” he growled, speaking in the common tongue of Underrealm.

Phelan blinked. “I … I do not understand.”

“You are still here,” repeated Chok, his voice rising in irritation. “You helped us drive humans from our lands. You told us where to strike and when. Now they are gone. But you are still here. These are troll lands.”

“But Chok,” said Phelan, doing his best to sound placating through a voice that still quaked with terror. “The Telfers are our enemies, just as they are yours. That means we are allies. We work together.”

“We worked together,” said Chok. “Because they went past the bounds of the pact. Now they are gone. Only you remain. A human in troll land is the enemy.”

The last word came out in a growl that Phelan could feel in his chest, and he very nearly soiled his grey breeches. “But you … we thought you would keep pushing into the Telfer homelands. Gatak told us—”

Chok roared in his face, and Phelan lost control of his bladder at last. The troll raised his fists, and Phelan knew he was about to die. But even as the guards behind him raised their blades, Chok slammed his fists into the ground on either side of Phelan, splintering the stone.

“Do not pretend Gatak speaks for us!” roared Chok. “She has been gone for months. She is your creature, not ours.”

“She is an emissary,” whispered Phelan, unable to put any more strength into his voice. He hoped the troll did not notice the piss now running down his legs. “She struck the deal in the first place.”

“Tell me where she is now,” snarled Chok.

“She will arrive soon!” cried Phelan desperately, with a small surge of courage now that he was in more familiar territory. “And when she does, if you and your pack have pushed the Telfers out of the mountains, you will receive a great reward. More crops than you can handle. As much bread as you can eat. That promise comes directly from the Lord, who never lies.”

Chok seemed about to answer. But then another stone-shattering crash came from the direction of the gate. Chok whirled.

Dotag stood in the entrance to the stronghold. The troll’s shoulders were raised in an attempt to seem larger, and his nostrils flared in and out with each breath.

“You come here?” he roared, speaking in the trolls’ own language. Most of the Shades in the courtyard looked at each other uncertainly, for the words were unknown to them—but Phelan understood. “You come here and threaten our allies?”

“Allies?” roared Chok. “They are in our mountains. They are no different from the humans we drove from our territory. The only difference is that these ones hold you under thrall.”

Dotag snarled and took a leap forwards. “I am no slave to humans.”

Chok advanced, more calmly than Dotag, and leered. “You would have us lick their boots in exchange for one loaf of bread. You are nothing.”

Dotag struck, fist ripping through the air. But Chok caught the blow. He seized Dotag’s arm and threw him. The smaller troll flew through the air, over the heads of the Shades, who scattered out of the way. He crashed into the keep wall, buckling it. A hole the size of a human now gaped in the stone.

“You think to challenge me?” roared Chok.

The Shades fled. But even as he cowered near the edge of the courtyard, Phelan waved frantically at his soldiers stationed atop the wall. He motioned to them, cupping his hands and tilting them over, as if pouring a bowl of liquid onto the ground.

Dotag shook his head, woozy from the impact. This time he was more patient, waiting for Chok to strike first. When the larger troll’s fist came flying, Dotag ducked. Chok struck the wall instead, widening the hole he had already made. Dotag struck twice under Chok’s arm, and the larger troll grunted as he fell a step back.

“You fight