Winds of Torsham (The Kohrinju Tai Saga Book 2)

by J P Nelson

  Jha’Ley was instant action, moving quickly to join Seedle below. Stat was an ancient word meaning, really very fast, and was not something you said to a superior officer, especially a ship’s captain or rank higher. If Seedle said stat, it was of major importance.

  The others followed Jha’Ley, Dessi with his cutlass drawn and at the ready. Seedless weapon was not out of the sheath, but the sergeant was all Marine and all business. By Vedoan Naval Regulation, his purpose on these teams, the purpose of the senior Marine, was to act as the lead officer’s personal body guard, even if Jha’Ley constantly disregarded this mandate.

  Like most ships of the time, Sin’Cho was built with three decks: the main-deck, which was on top; berth-deck, where the crew lived; hold, where stuff was stored and weight was placed to help with ship stability. The hold is also the deck below waterline. Some ships have shelves or compartments built into the upper portion of the hold. This is called an orlop, but is not a specific deck unto itself.

  When first setting foot into the berth, Seedle and Caroll were greeted with a vast refuse pile. Seeing no bodies or sign of life, they decided to go on below. It was there they found the frozen graveyard. Petrified corpses were stacked all around the hull, but they were naked.

  As above, articles were found, but anything which may be flammable, or possibly consumed, was gone. Thinking Kravieu would find a record of who was who, what was what, and where it was destined, they left the ravaged mess and returned to the berth.

  Hammocks were gone, personal lockers missing, but certain contents of lockers were scattered along the hull, some placed very neatly. The ship was a mystery, however, until Seedle noticed the door to a cooking oven slightly askew. Stepping across a pile of board-hard hides, he smelled it, then cautiously removing a glove and putting his hand into the ash, he called to his mate, “Mister Caroll! Someone is here, this ash is not warm, but it is not frozen.”

  With haste they pried through the hides. Tearing them apart from each other and tossing them to the side as if pieces of wall, they found a layer which was ever-so-slightly supple and puckered upward. Peeling down further, they found a person huddled up in a fetal position and wrapped in a variety of garments, as if cocooned.

  Seedle touched Caroll on the shoulder and hastily said, “I will get the commodore.” With that, he ran to the companionway.

  By the time Jha’Ley and the rest reached Caroll’s position, he had the person out and was quickly removing their outer garments. Looking with alarm to Jha’Ley, he opened his own heavy coat, took the person against his chest, and wrapping the coat around them both said, “Commodore, she is alive!” He looked down to her with angst, then back to Jha’Ley as he cradled her head and said, “But her spark is near to extinguished.”

  Caroll then closed his eyes and began mumbling words, gently rocking back and forth. Jha’Ley was taken off guard for but a moment, then the words, “Miu’Ganté Comveri! A woman, alone on this vessel?” formed upon his lips, but he was off guard for only a moment. For the third time, he noticed Seedle idly touch the ever present, but almost unnoticeable pouch on his side. Jha’Ley wondered, but again left thoughts unvoiced, ‘Is it a prayer token of some kind? He does not seem to be religious or a spiritual sort, but one never knows.’

  “We need the contingency box, quickly ……

  …… Seedle sprang for the companionway, grabbing Fhascully by the arm, who was last down and standing to the side of the stair ……

  “…… Some water ……”

  …… Dessi and Kravieu were already removing their canteens, Jha’Ley absently was removing his own, which Kravieu collected ……

  “…… A container for heating ……”

  …… Jha’Ley was looking about the immediate vicinity as he was calling instructions, but Dessi found a dirty pot where the woman had been curled and quickly said, “Here!”

  “…… and let us have the stove ready ……”

  …… Kravieu was already cleaning out the stove.

  Jha’Ley checked the chimney, “It is in good order.”

  Dessi found a machete and a few pieces of frozen rope which had been chopped down to size, “This must be all that is left, but they will not light straightway.”

  In what seemed moments, Seedle and Fhascully were already coming down the companionway with a large box. Seedle had Fhascully wait on top, while he dropped below and tied a line to one end of the Waddles’ contingency box. He threw it up and pushed it upward as Fhascully pulled.

  The instant they put it down Dessi was working the latch, opened it, and took out several bundles of tinder, prepared for such a purpose, and striking twigs with igniting ends. He placed an arrangement in the now cleaned stove and lit a fire.

  A clean pot was in the box, and it was used over the filthy one they had found. As soon as some water was warmed just enough, Fhascully took a bit and filled a mug, adding some ingredients he carried on his person. As he took what he needed of the water, Kravieu began shaving some dried meat into the bowl as Seedle added some dried carrots and crushed peas.

  All the while, Caroll was rocking back and forth, and sweating. His brow was creased as he was straining to do whatever it was he knew how to do. Fhascully checked for a pulse. It was faint, but it was there. Without a doubt, she had been on the verge of death, and she was still a long way from being out of the woods.

  As Fhascully tried to ease an ever small portion of the warm drink past her lips, he exclaimed as he saw her features, “By Zaeghun’s Lair, she is only a bit more than a girl.” He glanced to Jha’Ley, “I doubt her more than twelve or thirteen years to age.”

  Jha’Ley looked to the bit of fire which was burning well. The contingency box could float and closed to be water tight. Inside was shredded material to start several fires, striking twigs, fuel enough for several small cooking fires, bandages, dried meat, a few other odds and ends, and a flask of brandy. Jha’Ley took the flask and opened it, kneeled down and handed it to Fhascully.

  Fhascully glanced at the flask, winced, and said, “Commodore … I know it goes against centuries of thought, but I attended a seminar with a fellow who is stirring the medical community with some profound thoughts ...” He paused as he succeeded in getting the girl to take a bit of his herbal concoction, then he glanced back to see how the soup was coming along.

  Kravieu was making use of his pipe in the brief respite and added, “Yes, he is versed in law and history as well. Wesney, I believe his name to be. The fellow is touted as a true genius of his craft, although there are some who believe him to be daft.”

  Fhascully said, “Yes, Doctor Wesney, and he has written an excellent book covering a war in Keoghnariu.” He looked to Jha’Ley holding the flask of brandy, then continued, “The doctor was discussing his position that drinking brandy to warm the body is rubbish.”

  Jha’Ley’s eyebrows went up, Seedle exclaimed, “Rubbish? Then how does he explain the warmth which …”

  Fhascully held up his hand, “I can explain his discussion at a later time, but this herbal formula is what he suggested; followed by much hot soup and tea.”

  Kravieu added, “If memory serves, he made discussion of something he called a blood translution.”

  “That would be a transfusion, but you are correct.”

  Jha’Ley asked, “Then, you do not wish this.”

  Fhascully said, “Well, perhaps when we are safe to the ships.” He grinned and looked to the others.

  Kravieu scowled, “Would that be a joke you are administering?”

  Seedle exclaimed, “Ah … but it sounds more to be good thought. I will join you, Mister Fhascully.”

  Jha’Ley started to recap the brandy, then looked to Fhascully, considered taking a swallow, reconsidered again, recapped the flask and handed it to Seedle, who in turn cast a sly glance at Fhascully as he, indeed, took a swallow before returning it to the box. The commodore addressed the big man holding the girl with concern, “Mister Caroll? Are you doing well sir?”


  Fhascully made the comment, “I am fretful for him, sir. He has raised a serious sweat,” He touched his head with the back of his hand, “and his own heat is very high. You do not plan to lay over for the night, do you, sir?”

  Dessi spoke up as he came center from checking about the deck, “Sir, I find nothing small enough, or thawed enough to be used for fuel. My ventured thought is it is she who has expended all things which might be used in this stove. Anything which may have been eaten, she has consumed. We six might endure this for a night’s shelter,” he glanced around, “but in her condition, and if Mister Caroll has placed himself in danger … we might could dry him down, and we might find some recourse in these hides, but even those within which she was huddled are cold and hard.”

  Jha’Ley responded, “No, gentlemen, this hull is frozen and our own ships are but a mile away.” He was intently gazing with worry at the big man, who in turn was oblivious to all but his own deep breathing. “Less us do what we can for the moment, then be on our way. This girl needs care … and I fear Mister Caroll has pushed himself beyond his limits.”

  It was then they heard and felt the heavy thud against the bottom of the Sin’Cho’s hull. Jha’Ley, Fhascully, Kravieu, Seedle and Dessi ceased all movement and became deathly still, as they looked to each other and held their breath. Even Kravieu’s pipe smoke seemed to hold in the air.

  Kravieu uttered in a hushed whisper, “Shizen!” Looking directly to Jha’Ley he asked, “Do you think …”

  Seedle turned and bolted up the ladder-like stairs of the companionway with Dessi right behind him … the Waddles!

  Jha’Ley quickly stood up and turned about, but what to do? If that was the creature, a megladon, how in Sheol could he combat the thing? He shook his head in bewilderment and told Fhascully and Kravieu, “I will be right back.” Then he hustled up the companionway.

  Stepping outside, he saw both men at the gunwale. Seedle glanced back his way and affirmed, “She is well, no sign of cracks in the ice.”

  The commodore pulled his glass and looked where the expedition was cutting into the ice. “We have a challenge gentleman; we need to get back as soon as possible. And we need to prepare for the worst.”

  Suddenly he had a thought, “Do not get onto the ice, but see how many of those teeth you may find and recover.”

  Seedle raised his eyebrows, Dessi said, “Aye sir.” They looked to each other and Seedle remarked, “Well then, mate, let us find some dental work.”

  Within two hours, the team was under way for the expedition. Cutting into the wind, they had to tack with sharp angles, but were able to make good speed.

  They criss-crossed their original course on the return jaunt. Almost halfway back, as Waddles passed over the track made earlier in the morning, the ice suddenly shattered as the boat dropped and met water … and the girl began screaming.

  Chapter 21

  AS JHA’LEY AND his team were investigating the Sin’Cho, I was having a discussion with my owner, Edgarfield. We had arrived in Dahruban just days before, and this was the eve of my first fight in the city’s Grand Coliseum. The place was magnificent. Plays were performed here, the world’s finest musicians entertained here, great orators spoke here, and it was where Hamandual Staye and Pensias O’gullas conducted their famous debate. It is also the home of the highest order of hand-to-hand pugilism, a pugilism which ends in one or both of the engaged individual’s death.

  As always, Edgarfield was immaculately dressed when he came to my cell, something he constantly did prior to my fights. This time, however, the tone was somewhat different. He had a chair brought to the edge of the steel bars, close, but not too close. After the attendant left us, he surprised me with his action.

  Casually turning the chair so the back was toward me, he swung his leg around and straddled it facing me. Crossing his arms over the back, he began speaking as if we were old friends, “Well, we are here. We are where legends are made, and where they are destroyed.”

  He paused a bit before continuing, “You do not like me, that is well, but I have been straight up with you. I have fed you well, seen to it you have the regular baths you enjoy, and left you to your privacy with regard to sexuality.” With a smile of genuine congeniality, he shook his head and added, “Of the latter, I do not understand. Other men, even women, jump upon the chance of unlimited … well,” he waved his hand, “it does not matter. I have rewarded you your wish.”

  There was another pause. Was this man trying to reach out to me? If so, for what reason?

  “Did you know I was a fighter myself, once?”

  Now, that surprised me. What with his refined manners, pristine taste in clothing, and those beautifully manicured nails … I would have never thought such.”

  “Yes,” he continued, “I began when I was a tweenager, actually. I would go to bazaars, fairs, gatherings of all kinds, and offer so much coin to anyone who could keep from being knocked out or make a submission within five rounds.

  “As I got older, I found I could make much more money betting on myself in the pits. I was good,” he grinned at me with a twinkle in his eye, “re-e-eal good. Submissions were my thing, joint-locks. But in the pits I found the crowd prefers blood. They may tell you they just want to see a sporting contest, but they are liars … every last one of them.”

  What was Edgarfield’s point? Was he here to gloat?

  He pointed a jeweled finger at me, “They come to see the shit beat out of someone, and they come for blood. I have seen little old women get excited over seeing a man gushing blood from his mouth. So I learned to snap bones instead of forcing submissions. I was a natural.”

  Edgarfield looked over his shoulder and down the hall, then back at me, “Can you hear the screaming? Someone just died. The stands are full of cobblers, bakers, mothers and priests who are eating this up. The person who dominates the primus fight, the main event, has more notoriety than even a king, sometimes more than a god.”

  He pointed his thumb at himself, “It used to be me, Gojai. For three months, I was the City-State Champion.”

  I looked at him with a new thought, this man was a gladiator? “So what happened?”

  He stood up, turned the chair around, and sat down in it conventionally, “My last fight … I won, of course, but destroyed my left elbow doing it. You cannot adhere to magical healing and fight. So I elected to become a promoter, instead. I was a free man, you see, so I was not bound by rules of Master and slave, or of sentenced prisoners.”

  Grinning again, “I was an even better promoter than a fighter. Eight people, Gojai, eight people I have brought to the City-State Championship. You could be the best. There is something about you, your intensity, your hate.”

  He crossed his legs, interlocked his fingers, and laid his hands into his lap. “You are strong, but not the strongest. Taller than average, but far from the tallest. Your skill is exceptional, but you have killed five men and two women … well, one was a woman, but the other was a female … with greater skill than yours.

  “You simply will not stay down. You keep getting up. The crowd loves it, and you already have a name for yourself here. They have been talking about you for months. That, and cashing in on a few favors, have allowed me to set you up with a fight at center of mid-card. That does not happen, Gojai. You do well tonight, flash those insanely angry eyes and throw a dropkick or two, and you will gravitate to a championship match in record time.

  “You look good, I look good. I look good, I take care of you. Comfortable cell, whatever food you want, no having to fight in mass brawls where everyone is expected to die.”

  I walked to the gate and wrapped my hands around the bars, “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because, this is your opportunity. You could be the biggest name in Bloodbait history. You could be a god to these people, Gojai.”

  “I don’t give a damn about being a god, or being the biggest name of anything.”

  “Yes, yes. I get that. You have your is
sues, and I do not give a damn about those. But I made you a promise, did I not? Give me seven years, and I will let you go. You can do whatever you want, be whatever you want to be …” there was another pause, “… hunt and kill whoever you want to kill.”

  My eyes narrowed.

  He winked at me. “I am not stupid, Gojai. You have an inner turmoil of some kind, you are not the first. I have my hunches, but frankly I do not care. You could have escaped, but you have not. Your reasons are your own. But there is no escape for you now, even if you wanted it. Not here in Dahruban.”

  “All I have to do is go out there and kill?”

  “No. You must go out there and entertain. You see, Gojai, killing is the least important part of it. Killing is just the punctuation … as a rule, that is.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This fight tonight? This one is a message. I do not want you taking your time on this one. I need him humiliated. I need you to kill him as quickly as you can.”

  “Why?”

  “My reasons are my own, just as your issues are yours.”

  “What is so special about him? Did he do something to you?”

  “I used to own him. His name is Challero, and he has four arms. That is all you need to know.”

  “No, it isn’t. There was once a woman in your stable, her name was Lath. What happened to her?”

  This time it was he whose eyes narrowed. He began to say something, then as he opened his mouth he thought differently and answered, “Yes, I had Lath for several years, but she was a problem. She refused to play the game. But she was the best I have ever seen. Much better than you, Gojai, but she did not have the hate, the drive.”

  He sat back and mused, as if giving thought to an old puzzle he had never solved. Then he finally spoke, “There was something very different about Lath. She displayed no emotion, none whatsoever.

  “Lath possessed a skill level I have never seen before.” He gave me a direct gaze, “Even with all of your fire, Gojai, all of your heart, I do not think you could beat her.”