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

Kun glanced at her. “His Majesty—formerly His Excellency—Senlin of the family Fei. King Jun was, it seems, killed. That much was true in what Wojin said, if nothing else was.”

“But this is wonderful news, ser!” said Tou. “Should we not proceed to Danfon at once to help the new king stabilize his claim?”

“You forget yourself, Lieutenant,” said Kun, though his smile remained plastered on his face. “We are Mystics. Our duty is not only to Dorsea, but to the High King, and through her, to Underrealm itself.”

Tou bowed his head at once. “Of course, ser. Please accept my apology.”

“It is accepted,” said Kun. “And to answer your question: no. I do not think that Danfon is where we are most needed. King Senlin remains a loyal servant of the High King, and I have faith that he will consolidate his power in the capital and across the kingdom. But he will not be able to do so if the Shades succeed in cutting Dorsea in two by claiming the mountain passes.”

Mag’s eyes were alight. “So you believe us, then?”

Kun’s smile widened. “Yes. I believe you. Your guess as to the Shades’ intentions is better than any of mine. And knowing the lieutenant, you came up with a plan of action before you brought this to me. What is it?”

Tou glanced back and forth between Mag and me, as though he could hardly believe it. But he recovered quickly, clearing his throat. “Well, Captain. Sergeant Mag pointed out this area here.” He indicated the spot Mag had marked earlier. “A smaller, faster force could be sent ahead to circle the Shades, ambushing them in the Greenfrost. That could hamper their march long enough for our main host to catch up with them, wiping them out before they reach the Greatrocks.”

“Hm,” said Kun, thinking. “It would be a hard march.”

“Albern and I can serve as guides, ser,” said Mag quickly. “I know the area, and Albern’s woodcraft is unmatched—or, that is, I am sure it is comparable to Lieutenant Zhou’s.”

Kun chuckled. “You need not look after my nephew’s honor so closely, Sergeant. Very well. I will let the two of you guide this force. Lieutenant Shi, your company will march on the route they have indicated.”

“Yes, Captain,” said Tou, giving him a bow.

“And I will be coming with you,” finished Kun.

That gave all of us pause. Tou looked surprised, but Mag looked suspicious.

“Your … presence would be most welcome, of course, Captain,” said Tou slowly.

“Oh, not just mine,” said Kun. “My entire unit. All of the Mystics in our force, save those who are sergeants and lieutenants in the other companies. After all, if you intend to slow the Shades’ march, you will need the strongest fighters you can get.” He turned to Mag. “With Lieutenant Shi’s company and my unit, we shall have just over a hundred of troops. Will that let you stage an ambush that can halt our foes’ advance?”

Mag grinned. “I could do it with half that, ser.”

Kun’s eternal smile turned just as wolfish as her own.

Days later, unaware that the Shades’ position had been discovered, Kaita wrestled with weighty thoughts.

Mag had guessed correctly. The Shades, having fulfilled their purpose on the border between Dorsea and Feldemar, now made for the Sunmane Pass. Most of the western senators had not been loyal to Wojin, and they would wish now to support the new king, as soon as they could muster the armies to do it. The Shades might not be able to prevent that from happening, but they would want to delay it as long as they could.

These matters were much on Kaita’s mind. But something else also troubled her thoughts. She wore no furs against the cold—it was nothing compared to Tokana—but she still had on her cloak. She never took it off these days. And as she considered the road ahead, her hand stole into the cloak, probing an inside pocket. There sat the package of brown cloth Rogan had given her.

She could feel the magestones calling to her. Sometimes she even peeled back the edges of the cloth to look at them, as though to reassure herself of their presence. They glinted back at her, dark as the pupil of a giant’s eye.

Wild thoughts flitted through her mind whenever she looked at the stones. Rogan had never wanted to give them to her. What if he had lied? What if he had given her fakes? She should eat one, test it, just to be sure, just so that she could know—

Footsteps approached her tent. Kaita snatched her hand away from the stones as the front flap opened. Tagata entered, bent double to fit.

Tagata was a shadeborn, like Rogan. Ten and a half hands tall she stood, and her shoulders were as broad as two ordinary folk abreast. On her back she carried a massive greatsword, which was as tall as Kaita herself. But her most frightening ability was neither her strength nor the surprising speed with which she could move. It was the tattoo inked on the back of her neck, the mark of her lord’s favor. That mark could banish death itself, letting her recover from even the most grievous wound in a matter of moments.

She was a killer, born and bred and given a dark blessing. Yet, like Rogan, she was not always cruel or violent. As she entered Kaita’s tent, her eyes held nothing but fondness and concern. And as she saw Kaita resting only in her cloak, she gave a little smile.

“Are you not cold, little one?” she said. “But then, I suppose you would not be, after your days in Calentin.”

Kaita felt a flash of anger at the mention of Calentin, but it quickly subsided. She knew Tagata meant nothing by the jest, and she did not know as much of Kaita’s story as Rogan did. So she smiled in response and beckoned Tagata to sit beside her.

“I