Yerrin: A Book of Underrealm (The Nightblade Epic 6) Read online

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  The Books of Underrealm

  Map

  Yerrin

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  THIRTY-FOUR

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Keep Reading

  Author's Note

  Connect Online

  The Books of Underrealm

  About the Author

  EPILOGUE

  YERRIN

  Garrett Robinson

  Copyright © 2017 by Legacy Books. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events or locales is purely coincidental. Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.

  The author greatly appreciates your readership. If you enjoy the story, please leave a review wherever you bought the book, or on Goodreads.com.

  To my wife

  Who gave me this idea

  To my children

  Who just make life better

  To my parents

  Who are the only reason I’m able to do anything at all

  To Johnny, Sean, and Dave

  Who told me to write

  And to my Rebels

  Don’t forget why you left the woods

  THE BOOKS OF UNDERREALM

  BY GARRETT ROBINSON

  To see all novels in the world of Underrealm, visit:

  Underrealm.net/books

  THE NIGHTBLADE EPIC

  NIGHTBLADE

  MYSTIC

  DARKFIRE

  SHADEBORN

  WEREMAGE

  YERRIN

  THE ACADEMY JOURNALS

  THE ALCHEMIST’S TOUCH

  THE MINDMAGE’S WRATH

  THE FIREMAGE’S VENGEANCE

  TALES OF THE WANDERER

  BLOOD LUST

  STONE SKIN

  HELL SKIN

  CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER

  NIGHTBLADE

  MYSTIC

  DARKFIRE

  SHADEBORN

  BLOOD LUST

  THE ALCHEMIST’S TOUCH

  THE MINDMAGE’S WRATH

  WEREMAGE

  STONE SKIN

  THE FIREMAGE’S VENGEANCE

  HELL SKIN

  YERRIN

  WINTER HAD ALWAYS HAD A way of being especially cruel to Loren, and so she hid now with her friends from its bitter snows. Which was not to say that they had entirely avoided the rough weather; for weeks, they had pursued the merchant Damaris back and forth across the northwestern reaches of the kingdom. Through snows and storms they followed her, from tiny villages to modest cities, through woods and over fields and across rivers. Always Damaris had remained just ahead of them, taunting them, ever out of reach.

  Now they had a room at an inn in the town of Sidwan, far south of Feldemar and west of the Greatrock Mountains. They had arrived only the night before. Some might have called the dwelling modest, but Loren thought that would be far too generous. She guessed the inn’s master rarely had his floors scrubbed or bedding changed, for everything reeked. Two threadbare pallets of straw lay on the floor, but Loren could almost see the fleas crawling across them. They ate rarely of the inn’s food, which caused their bellies to roil and complain, but instead ate from the rations they had kept in good supply during their travels. Of all the inn’s offerings, only the ale was passably good, and so of that they drank freely.

  Loren’s little council was even smaller than normal, for Uzo and Shiun were away at the moment. Chet sat on one of the pallets, idly rubbing his arms and staring at nothing. His oft-washed skin was red and raw, but mayhap not so bad as it had been last week. Loren hoped that was a good sign. Gem had gone to fetch himself a snack—the boy’s stomach seemed to be made of iron, and he was the only one who did not turn up his nose at the common room’s meager fare.

  Annis, as was her custom these days, sat on the floor with a map of the nine kingdoms. With her forefinger she traced lines between towns and cities, her eyes darting back and forth, her lips slightly parted but never moving. Every so often she would wince and shake her head, then return to tracing routes that were clear only in her own mind. Loren worried about her. Annis’ determination to find Damaris had neared obsession. The merchant was her mother, and that made her feel a greater burden than all the rest of them.

  Other than Chet, of course.

  Loren sighed, kicking her boots against the floor and toying idly with the knives at her belt. The blades were new, purchased at the first blacksmith they had found after entering the kingdom of Dorsea. They were neither so fine as the dagger on the back of her belt, nor as modest as the hunting knife in her boot. The smith had balanced them perfectly for throwing. Half of her wished to go out behind the inn and practice, but she feared to be away if Uzo and Shiun returned with news.

  She thought of the one who had taught her to throw knives in the first place. Her fingers recoiled as though the blades had burned her.

  It is a useful skill, she told herself. It does not matter who taught it to you.

  She looked at Chet and wondered if she truly believed that.

  He seemed to feel her gaze upon him, for he looked up at her. He tried to give her a smile, but it came out frail.

  “I think I may try to sleep,” said Loren.

  His smile faltered. “Oh? Have you rested poorly?”

  “It has been a long road, and we have ridden hard.”

  “Yet too much sleep can make one even wearier.”

  Loren spread her hands. “There is little else to do just now.”

  Now his smile died at last, and he stared at the floor. “Those are pretty words, but not true ones. We both know why you want to sleep. Yet that is not how the dreams work, or so you have said.”

  “I suppose not,” said Loren. “But we know I cannot have one if I am awake.”

  He subsided, turning away from her. Loren’s pulse had quickened, and she forced herself to take a deep breath. It was not Chet’s fault that her sleep had been dreamless, but she was frustrated, and it made her irritable. A small part of her feared what the dreams might mean and where they might be leading her. But the greater part of her wanted any clue, any hint about where Damaris might be. If that knowledge came to her in a dream, she thought she could accept whatever harm her visions might bring.

  She sighed and pushed herself up from the floor, going over to sit beside Chet—but not too close, not where she might accidentally brush against him.

  “I want a clue that will lead us to the end of this road,” said Loren. “I want to bring Damaris to justice.”

  Chet shook his head slowly. “I suppose I do as well. But will that truly be the end?”

  Loren gritted her teeth. Damaris’ capture would not entirely end the war, and they both knew it. “It will be a good first step. A
nd the dreams will help. When they come, we will use whatever I see to find her. I swear it.”

  Chet drew a breath as though he was about to speak—but then the door flew open. Loren shot upright, hand going to one of her knives. But it was only Gem, stumbling in with a tray of food and ale. He kicked the door behind him, and it closed with a loud thud. Annis’ head jerked up, but the moment she saw Gem she flushed and turned away.

  Loren scowled. “Sky above, Gem. Are you trying to wake the whole inn?”

  “Wake them?” said Gem, eyes wide and innocent. “It is scarcely sundown. If anyone is abed already, let them rise so that they may know how lazy I think them.”

  “This from the boy who has spent more time asleep than all the rest of us combined,” said Chet. He chuckled and shook his head. It warmed Loren’s heart to see. Whatever chill had settled between him and Loren, he had lost none of his affection or good cheer towards the children, nor even towards Uzo and Shiun.

  “But that is another matter entirely,” said Gem, lifting his chin. “I am unquestionably the handsomest of our party, and retaining such beauty requires more rest. That is not laziness, but only due consideration for the beautification of your lives.”

  “What noble sacrifice. What a selfless gift,” said Loren, clutching her hands over her heart. Then she snatched the tray with one hand and shoved him gently with the other. “Now if you truly wish to make all our lives better, still your flapping lips for a little while and let us drink in peace.”

  Gem rubbed his chest where she had pushed him, but his smile remained. “I suppose I can do that,” he said. “After all, my lips have flapped enough for one day—in the common room, where one or two of my tales were most welcome.”

  Loren’s heart skipped. “What tales? Gem, what have you—”

  He waved a hand airily. “I did not tell them who we are, or where we are bound, or why. But I heard some patrons in the common room discussing our black-cloaked friend. I gave them a few nods and winks at the right times, and told them some small stories that I had heard and they had not.”

  “Stories you heard?” said Loren, arching an eyebrow. “It is more accurate to say that you lived them.”

  Gem spread his hands. “They are different words, but they mean much the same thing.”

  Loren sighed. Gem had been spreading tales everywhere—not only since they entered Feldemar, but a long time before that, ever since the two of them had escaped from the city of Cabrus. She had long ago given up trying to stop him.

  Gem snatched two mugs of ale from the tray and went across the room to Annis. He stopped more than a pace away, looking at her fitfully. One foot scraped at the back of his other ankle to scratch an itch. He wore thick and warm shoes, recently bought—a necessity against the snow outside, but clearly something he was unused to.

  Gradually Annis became aware of the room’s quiet. At last she looked up to see Gem. Her cheeks darkened, and she quickly looked back down at the map.

  “I … er, would you like to have a drink?” said Gem, proffering one of the mugs.

  “Oh, ah. No. Thank you. Or, wait, I suppose so.” Annis’ hand jerked back and forth a few times, as though her mind kept changing even in the act of reaching for the mug. At last she gripped the handle and pulled it towards her—but the movement was jerky, and a bit of ale spilled over to splash on a corner of the map.

  “Blast!” said Gem. He knelt and tried to scrub at the stain. “I am sorry.”

  “No, it was my fault,” said Annis.

  She took a corner of her sleeve and reached to wipe away the ale. But as her hand brushed Gem’s, they both yelped. Gem leaped up as though stung and scuttled away. Then he realized he had forgotten his own mug on the floor beside her, and he darted back to get it. He retreated to the farthest pallet and sank into it, studiously inspecting his drink.

  Loren winced at the exchange. Things had grown more and more awkward since Annis’ disastrous confession of love in Feldemar. Gem clearly felt awful for rebuffing her, and Annis seemed determined to forget the whole thing had ever happened. But it hung between them always, and what had once been a bosom friendship was now an ever-strained and painful interaction.

  It did no good to dwell on such thoughts. Loren went over to Annis and sat across from her, ignoring the girl’s flushed cheeks. She studied the map, but it meant very little to her. Loren could recognize the drawings—the mountains and rivers, the lakes and oceans—but she had never learned to read, and so the names of places were a mystery. But Annis looked at the map as though it were an elaborate tapestry, with every detail plain before her and no mystery hidden. Or at least, none but the greatest mystery of all—the one that kept her hovering over the map day and night, trying to unravel the secret.

  “How goes your search?” said Loren. “Have you any idea why Damaris might have come here?”

  “If I had, I would have said something,” grumbled Annis. She sighed and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. “I am sorry. I grow ever more frustrated the longer this goes on. My mo—Damaris’ course through Dorsea makes no sense. First she goes in one direction, and then another. It seems clear she is trying to throw us off her trail. But even if that is the case, I feel I should be able to guess her ultimate aim. Yet the only thing I can see is that she always goes farther south, and there is no place in the south of Dorsea that makes sense as her final destination.”

  “What if it is a ruse, then?” said Chet. “What if her ultimate aim lies farther north, and she plans to double back?”

  Annis pursed her lips. “I have considered it, of course. But there is nothing significant west of the Greatrocks, and I do not think she would go east of them. There lies Dorsea’s capital, Danfon. There is no greater concentration of officers of the High King’s law in the kingdom. She would put herself at far too great a risk. That, I believe, is why she has restricted herself to smaller towns—like this one.”

  “I think even the word ‘small’ overstates the case,” said Gem. “‘Tiny’ might be more accurate. I have seen no horses in Sidwan besides our own.”

  Loren sighed and shook her head. “I am less worried about where Damaris is going and more worried about what she means to do.”

  “Are we so sure she means to do anything?” said Chet. “I thought her goal was to take Yewamba, but we chased her from there. She may simply be trying to escape.”

  “Never,” said Annis. “Oh, I am certain she wants to evade us. But there is something else at work here. There always is. She has not given up on … well, on whatever goal drove her to Yewamba in the first place.”

  “But what goal?” said Loren. “Something to do with the war, no doubt.”

  “Yes, but that is far too general,” said Annis. “She will never be an ally of the High King—not after what she has done—but she may not be on the side of the Necromancer any longer, either. She seems aimless, but that is only because we do not know what larger game she is playing.”

  “Could she be making her way towards one of your family’s holdings in Dorsea?” said Loren.

  “She could—except that those are few and far between, and none are very grand.” said Annis. “I think that may be why she wanted Yewamba. She could have given it to the Necromancer as a great stronghold in the war. Or she might have meant to lurk there in safety while the war raged on without her. Without knowing the machinations of all our enemies, it becomes harder to predict what any one of them is doing.”

  “I, for one, doubt she still stands by the Necromancer,” said Chet. “The High King has declared war at last, and eight kingdoms stand behind her. Not even a great fool would join the wrong side of that fight, and your mother is not a great fool.”

  The room went silent, and Loren shot Chet a look. Annis dropped her gaze to the floor, and Chet’s cheeks flushed. They had taken to avoiding the fact that Damaris was Annis’ mother. It was not a comfortable truth for the girl to hear, and even less so now that their mission was to bring her before the King’
s law—a law that was always swift and always fair, but not always merciful.

  “In any case,” said Loren, “all our wonderment might be for nothing. If she is indeed here in Sidwan, and we can bring her to heel, then her ultimate aim becomes of far less consequence.”

  As if in answer to her words, they heard footsteps in the hallway outside. The footsteps stopped outside their door, which opened to reveal Uzo. The dark young spearman wore plain clothes for travel, and had changed his red Mystic cloak for one of brown. Snow dusted his shoulders, already melting into little droplets at his feet.

  “It is time,” he said. “Shiun has found her.”

  They were on their feet in an instant. Chet snatched up his quarterstaff from where it leaned by the door, and Gem began to buckle on his little sword.

  Almost too little, now, thought Loren. The boy was growing by leaps and bounds. She had already noted that he needed new clothes, and now it seemed he should have a new blade as well.

  Loren turned to Annis. “Wait here for us. We will return soon.”

  “Be sure that you do,” said Annis. “Sky above, I hope we have found her this time.”

  “We have never been so close,” said Loren. “If the worst should happen, and she evades us again, we shall catch her in the next town.”

  Annis dropped her gaze to the floor. “Her escape would not be the worst that could happen. At least not to my mind.”

  Loren gave a little smile and stepped forwards to wrap the girl in a quick hug. “We will be safe. See that you are the same.”

  She turned, cloak whirling about her, and followed Uzo from the inn.

  SIDWAN WAS A TINY CLUSTER of inns and craftshops that might not have existed at all, except that a bend in the nearby road met a bend in the nearby river, and the fertile land all around was perfect for farming. Farmers thus formed the largest portion of the town’s populace, and of the patrons of its taverns and shops. Travelers would stop in the town for a drink or to repair a shoe or harness, and in the evenings the locals would gather around to hear news of the wider world. Loren and her friends had worked hard to dissuade such interest. The less notice anyone took of them, the better.