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

had held the door, a shard of metal almost two paces long. He thrust it into Apok’s chest, and almost two handbreadths of the metal sank into her flesh. She clutched at it with both hands, falling back on her rear, roaring. Dotag stepped closer, trying to jam it deeper, a low growl issuing from his throat. The rest of the trolls shifted. Some of them gave angry, rumbling shouts, and nearly all of them glared at Dotag. It seemed clear they did not approve of his cowardly trick.

Apok’s eyes widened, and she bared her teeth again. She let go the iron shard, and Dotag’s weight pressed it deeper into her chest. But Apok’s hands rose and wrapped around his throat. She squeezed. Dotag’s hands slackened on the iron, and he seized her wrists, trying to pull her away. But Apok had him now. She heaved, throwing him off balance and bringing him crashing to the ground. Apok pulled him up just enough to slam his head back into the stone. Dotag’s nails dug into her forearms, but she did not relent. Again and again she sent the back of his head crashing into the floor. A black stain of blood appeared on the ground beneath him, and his arms fell away from her wrists.

Apok stopped. She straightened. With one massive hand, she dragged the iron shard from her own chest. Dotag stirred. His eyes spun in their sockets as he tried to sit up.

Apok rammed the iron shard into his mouth. It pierced straight through the back of his head, pinning him to the stone floor.

Dotag jerked once and then lay still.

The hall fell quiet, save for Apok’s great, heaving breaths. She tossed her head as though shaking away a dizzy spell. My gaze shifted to Ditra. She stood near the front of her soldiers, her mouth slightly open, waiting.

Apok turned to her, eyes narrowed. I gripped my bow.

“I lead the pack now.” Apok’s growl echoed around the hall. She spoke in the common tongue of Underrealm. “Our fight is over.”

I nearly sagged with relief, as did most of the Telfer soldiers I could see. But Ditra stood straighter, stepping forwards to separate herself from the crowd. She inclined her head.

“Then we shall part,” she said. “And you will leave here pursued by no ill will of my family or our warriors.”

Apok nodded slowly. Then, “There is still the pact.”

“Yes,” said Ditra. “I am Lord Ditra of the family Telfer, Rangatira of Tokana, and descendant of the first Albern of the family Telfer. My ancestor forged the pact with your people. But it has been neglected for so long that it has grown rusted and damaged, like a blade unused. It must be reforged. You and I can do so, as our predecessors did long ago.”

That produced a long moment of silence. At first I thought Apok might not have understood. But then she snorted in what seemed like amusement.

“Tomorrow, then,” she said. “We do not love many words, as humans do. But you and I will use as many words as we have to, in order to return peace to the mountains.”

Ditra seemed taken aback. But at last she smiled. “Tomorrow, then.”

Apok turned to her pack. “Leave,” she said. “Back to the mountains, and away from the city.”

The trolls did not make a sound, but turned as one to obey her. We stood there, all of us, and watched their giant, lumbering forms stalk away into the night. No one moved until the last one was gone. When the hall had settled to silence once again, I turned to Mag. She was staring out into the darkness—out the shattered door through which Kaita had escaped.

I let go her arm and gripped her shoulder. “We will find her.”

Mag smiled—but it was a smile of such sadness, and such bone-deep weariness, that I felt my eyes sting.

“I know,” she whispered. “I know we will.”

There was still much to be done that night. Ditra sent the fastest messengers she had left to find the refugees on the road and order their return. She then sent a small contingent of soldiers to meet them on the road and provide protection from ambush. The Shades had vanished after the small part they played in the battle, and Ditra feared further mischief from them.

After that she retired at last, ordering us to do the same. Mag and I collapsed in our beds the moment we saw them. We slept well past midday and rose to find Kahaunga had begun the long process of rebuilding itself. We helped where we could, and spent our time in rest when we could not.

True to her word, Apok returned the next day, and she met with Ditra on the slopes north of Kahaunga. They discussed the pact again, redrew the boundaries, and pledged that their descendants, and those they commanded, would swear by the new pact from that day forth. Then the humans and the trolls joined each other in rebuilding their lives, with the trolls helping Telfer subjects reclaim and rebuild their homes in the mountains, and the Telfers providing the trolls with great stores of bread and crops, which were gratefully (if messily) devoured.

Early on the third day, Dryleaf and Oku returned to us, along with the rest of the refugees. Oku barked madly as he leaped around us, and Dryleaf beamed.

“I knew somehow that you two would come out all right,” he said, “yet I am glad to see myself proven correct.”

“I think you had an almost foolish confidence in our success, then,” I told him.

“Someone had to.”

“Albern may speak for himself, but not for me,” said Mag, in a light mood that I doubted was genuine. “If our foes wish to rid themselves of me, they shall have to do better than trolls.”

“And speaking of your foes,” said Dryleaf, “what of Kaita?”

Mag’s false cheer vanished.

“She escaped,” I said. “She was last seen fleeing southwest,