Winds of Torsham (The Kohrinju Tai Saga Book 2)

by J P Nelson

  For an instant it seemed Caroll was taken over the side, but his legs were wrapped around the rail. His left arm in a death-lock on the violent creature trying to take him down, right hand drawing that curved blade of twelve marks. Desperately he reached under the snake’s throat and drew the razor’s edge across the flesh.

  Dessi and Seedle together seized Caroll and brought him up and back, as Toagun sliced another snake as it clamped upon Caroll’s pant leg … missing the flesh by scant fractions of an inch.

  Fourteen men were taken between the two vessels, as they fought over the course of the next half hour.

  Jha’Ley was smeared in snake gore, his own blood dripping as he asked Toagun, “Has this happened to you before?”

  The Sealer glanced at him, eyes still wide with the adrenaline rush of combat, “Uh, no.” Looking over to the Ubank he took a deep breath, wiped against the splatter of blood on his face and suggested, “It may be the two ships … the size of them together. Otherwise, I don’t know.”

  Toagun smiled at the men at the table, “But the news isn’t all bad. If you know where to get it, there is lots of food. There is a type of seaweed, I’ve got no idea what it’s called, but it grows at the bottom of practically the whole gulf; it’s big and nourishing. We have to dive down to harvest it, and that takes a special kind of man to go into that water. And then it needs to be dried out, no problem. But fellas … I’m not harvesting for everyone.”

  The day was beautiful, water as calm as can be in the Gulf of Ruben, and the ships were side-by-side.

  S’Getti was standing next to Jha’Ley arguing his point, “Jann Raul, you are the commodore, you do not need to do this.”

  The smile was infectious as Jha’Ley replied, “Do you expect me to let Misters Caroll, Lebracio, Easley, Seedle, and Sealer have all the fun? I will be in good company. Mister Caroll is from the cold climate, Mister Seedle is an accomplished high diver who knows ice water very well, and the others have proven themselves most satisfactorily.

  “Besides, if something happens to me, you will get a nice promotion---”

  “I … do … not … want … a … promotion!”

  “Villiam, relax. I know the underside of the ocean well.” He laughed, “I am practically a fish.”

  “That is not the point.”

  Jha’Ley looked to the others waiting on him, “Is the word given, Mister Sealer?”

  Toagun chuckled. With a thumbs up, he called out, “Dive.”

  The exercise was cold, but rewarding. Much seaweed was harvested. Each man stayed close to a partner and had been carefully schooled by Toagun.

  Expectedly, the others had to surface often, but Toagun was partnered with Jha’Ley … by S’Getti’s demand. Toagun was more experienced, he was to keep watch on the zealous commodore.

  But once beneath the waves, Jha’Ley was like a child in a land of toys and candy. Toagun took note of how easily his partner moved through the water … too easily. Staying down was no trouble, either. The Sealer was comfortable at going under for fifteen minutes at a time, but Jha’Ley had to be reminded to rise to surface.

  When at the bottom of their harvesting ground, Toagun saw something else. S’Getti demanded the group to return, and Jha’Ley had to resist an urge to propel from the water onto deck, but as they came aboard, Toagun was looking to Jha’Ley with a mischievous grin. To be more specific, he was looking behind Jha’Ley’s ears.

  Jha’Ley noticed Toagun’s stare and the two locked eyes. Then Toagun chuckled and muttered, “Bullshit.”

  Jha’Ley passed him a wink, “Told you I knew someone.”

  Nobody caught the reference.

  Within short order, all the Marines were qualified for ice water swimming. There were three who had real challenges, but the one with the greatest difficulty was Corporal Carlson.

  Seedle was watching Dessi watch Carlson with a critical eye, “Problems mate?”

  Dessi thought about it before answering, “A Marine who cannot swim well?”

  After some contemplation, Seedle countered, “It is cold. Not everyone is as tough as you are.”

  Dessi nodded, “True enough.” There was no ego in his tone, there was no doubting he was a resilient man and he knew his limits. He wrinkled his nose and licked his tongue across his teeth, “Maybe…”

  Toagun took a last cracker from his lap, ate it while the others were digesting his words, then added, “And the hunting is a thrill.

  “The Meinkutt Seal isn’t a seal at all. Sometimes they are called Buffalo Seal. Truth is, they are more like a buffalo or a cow that can swim. They swim deep, yep, and they’re big, but they’re vegetarian. They live on that seaweed and other things.

  “They’ve got horns that sweep back on their head, but rotates forward when they need to fight, and they will fight. An elf named Flagan told me thousands of years ago some elves migrated into some tropical place in the middle of Meinkutt. They magically altered a herd of buffalo so they grew flippers on their legs. That way they could take their herd with them.

  “Whatever happened, at least a bunch of these animals grew wild and stay up in the gulf, mostly. They can be found in a couple of other places, too. But mostly they are in the gulf. They have long hair and a thick undercoat, almost like an arctic bear, and teeth. The teeth aren’t for biting meat, but with mouths that big, I don’t want to get bitten by one.”

  He grinned, “Mighty good eating. Exactly like buffalo, way better than beef. The dried meat lasts until you eat it, and you can live on just it and nothing else.”

  The first time the expedition saw the Meinkutt Seals they were in awe. If not for the need of food, there would have been no hunt. There was no group diving this time, however. It would only be Toagun and Jha’Ley.

  It was a thing of beauty for Jha’Ley to see his partner do what he did better than anyone in the world … stalk his mark from beneath the ocean surface and put his harpoon in just the right place.

  They wanted two kills, one for each ship. When it came Jha’Ley’s turn it was Toagun’s turn to be impressed. Quarry number one was being hoisted to the Ubank’s deck as he retrieved his harpoon to back up his partner.

  The burst of speed and maneuverability Toagun saw from the man was enough to make him almost breathe in sea water. Jha’Ley’s skill was not up to par with his attack, and the harpoon fell as the twenty-four-foot creature turned about in savage defense. They had already gone deeper than Toagun would have liked, and they were far from the sight of those on deck.

  Like a heavy crossbow bolt fired directly into the water, Jha’Ley darted down to recover his weapon with the angry creature on his tail. Snatching the barbed rod, he seemed to know the beast was only feet away, and he executed a rolling spin maneuver, barely evading the lowered horns.

  Jha’Ley managed to grab a handful of hair and swing to its back, whereupon it began to gyrate and flog the water to remove the unwanted rider. He thrust the barb into the seal, but not in the right place. Drawing his dagger, Jha’Ley began thrusting the steel into the creature's neck … all the while, his partner swimming frantically to give assistance.

  Finally, Toagun got into range of the wild tandem and found the kill point. He thrust his harpoon deep and grabbed Jha’Ley.

  Returning to the ship and covered by blankets, Toagun sarcastically remarked, “Shaels, you can really ventilate a nice piece of prime leather.”

  At the table the men began talking amongst themselves. Toagun passed a glance around the room, then to Jha’Ley who caught his eye and raised his eyebrows in a “What do you think,” manner.

  The Sealer brushed the cracker crumbs from his lap, drank the last of his tea and shook his head with a chuckle. He thought to himself, ‘This is going to be a fun voyage.’

  Chapter 27

  AFTER MY MATCH with Challero, the guards escorted me back to my cell. All the cells on this hall were eight by twelve feet, one-foot-thick block walls in between, with wrought iron bars in front. They were all set with two
bunks, but I had only myself for company. In one corner was a pail for piss and poop, in another was a water bucket.

  In the center of the cell was a pail of warm water and a cloth for me to wash, courtesy of Edgarfield for winning the match, not that it was much of a fight. I hadn’t even raised a sweat.

  I was already stripped to the waist, so I dropped to one knee to bathe … I never dropped to both knees for anything … and as I was rinsing the back of my neck with the cloth, I could feel the air move as someone walked up and stood by the bars. From the clean, perfumed scent, I could tell it was Edgarfield.

  “Well done. That was beautifully performed. Thank you.”

  I paused, then looked at him with a slant in my eye, “You’re … thanking me?”

  His tone was congenial, “Of course, I deal in a violent business, but there is no need to be uncivilized. You did as I asked, in essence, you did me a favor. I appreciate it.”

  He had seen me do worse, and I am not easily embarrassed, so I continued bathing. It isn’t like I was going to drop breeches and bath my … well, you get the point.

  “You have them … the crowd … they already love you. They will eventually hate you, but they will love doing it.”

  The water wasn’t hot enough, so I casually put my hand in the bucket and focused. As the heat began to increase I just looked at him.

  Edgarfield took a bar in one hand and appraised the gate structure, “We can be a team, you know?”

  With a deadpan expression I replied, “I don’t like you.”

  He passed me a glaring smile, “Do you not? We are similar in more ways than you may realize.”

  I gave no response and swirled my hand in the water.

  “This evening I was made a strong offer to purchase you.”

  Glaring at him I responded, “I have been bought and sold before.”

  “These people were from Gevard.”

  Suddenly I stopped, it was then I realized he was watching me, giving study to my reactions. Something inside me went cold, a scared kind of cold.

  “Lord Fel’Caden … Herrol Fel’Caden … wanted to know your breeding, who trained you, where you came from.”

  I was staring into the bucket, it was hard to breathe. Edgarfield was watching me carefully. He wasn’t baiting me, but watching. My skills did not include hiding my emotions in an interrogation. With great difficulty I tried to keep control.

  With tremendous deliberation, I asked, “Why was he interested in me? This was my first match in Dahruban.”

  There was a long silence. Edgarfield was waiting me out, he wanted to see my face, my reaction. Like I said, I had no skill in this sort of thing. Turning like a beast, my eyes must have shown some of that crazy look I’m told I have.

  Surprisingly to me, there was no maliciousness in his manner. I was expecting a cruel pleasure in his tone, but he reminded me of a chess player studying the opposition. The man was trying to read me … but why?

  As if he were speaking to an angry draft horse he was trying to calm down, he said, “E-e-eas-s-sy …” I could see him thinking, his expression vague, as if working out a puzzle, “I made it clear you were not for sale, at any price. As I told you, Gojai, you and I can be very good for each other.”

  We two gazed at each other for what seemed a long time. Me with cold shivers running up and down my spine, he trying to figure something out.

  “I took feeling his main interest was with regard to the ward he had with him.”

  “Ward?”

  “A youngster, perhaps twelve or thirteen years old. If you were cleaned up, hair cut in presentable fashion, you would favor each other quite well.”

  The water suddenly went to a boil, the bucket blew apart, I jumped up and yanked my burned hand back, and at the same time quipped, “Ye-e-o-o-w-w-w!” I thought, ‘How did I do that?!’

  Edgarfield was startled for a moment and jumped back a couple of marks, but still held onto the bars, giving me careful eye. I shook my hand and said, “By Zaeghun’s Lair …” Holding my hand and breathing in, I turned away from him, closed my eyes, and *Healed* before the blisters began.

  I heard steps running down the hall, then saw Edgarfield turn and raise his hand in a halting fashion. Speaking to whoever it was down the hallway, he ordered, “Would you bring a bandage? My man has injured himself on this faulty equipment you provided. I am going to make a complaint.”

  It was only an instant and the hall guard came to my cell with a roll of cloth. A couple of others were there with crossbows to make sure I made no assault. The hall guard entered and picked up the wooden pieces as I held my hand under arm. Another started toward me, looking at my hand.

  Edgarfield was gruff as he ordered, “No, no, no … leave him be. Toss the rag to his bunk and don’t touch him. He is dangerous. Let him tend his own wound. Yes, yes … now get out of here. I want a hot bowl of food in an hour, after he has cooled off.”

  After they left, we just looked at each other. I passed glance to the roll of bandages, then back at him.

  Nodding at me he said, “I know … you do not need them.” Shaking his head he remarked, “You know, there are wards which reveal use of wizardry? You are not a wizard, though, are you? No, you are something else. And if I am not mistaken, you were as surprised at your … whatever you did … as I was.”

  I made no comment.

  “Very well, Gojai, we will have it your way. I do not give a damn, as long as you keep winning.”

  He started to turn away and I blurted out, “What did he look like? The boy … the ward, I mean?”

  Turning back to me he narrowed his eyes, “I did not say the ward was a boy.”

  I felt sick inside.

  With what seemed a bit of sympathy, he nodded gently, “He looked well. I believe Lord Fel’Caden referred to him as Lysoll, Lusall, or something to that effect.”

  Stepping back to the bars he commented more than asked, “Your accent is not Gevardic, as the boy’s was …”

  I still made no comment.

  “Is he your son?”

  “My son?” The thought caught me way off guard. He must think … he thought … My answer came slow and he misunderstood, “N-no, he is not my son.”

  I honestly believe Edgarfield felt compassion, even though he saw it wrongly. He rubbed the bottom of his nose as he formed his thought, “Another five and a half years, Gojai, that is our accord. If it helps, I do not believe they knew you.”

  In irony he added, “I believe Lord Fel’Caden was interested in you as a training partner, or something to that effect, for the lad.”

  He looked down the hall, then back at me and said, “Do not take it personally, but most all elves look alike.”

  Flexing my hand I asked, “Can you get me a quill, ink, and parcel to write upon?”

  “An unusual request, but yes. I will have it brought to you. A letter, perhaps?”

  “No. A list of what I want. It will be simple.”

  He seemed agreeable.

  I clenched my fist a few times, the pain was still in my mind, if not actually in my hand.

  Glancing to Edgarfield from under my eyebrow I asked, “You said no one had ever gone seven years for you before?”

  He hesitated, looked me up and down, and then replied, “There was a man, several years ago, one of my first band of fighters … his name was Ames, Ames McShane …”

  ‘Ames,’ I thought, ‘Ames, our cook on the road crew, he taught me to use my fists. Hoscoe said he had been a coliseum fighter.’

  “… the best champion in City-State history.”

  “I thought Lath was the best---”

  “Not the best, the longest.” He hooked his left thumb in belt and articulated with his right hand, his tone was that of trying once more to press a critical point, “Gojai, there is a difference in quantity and quality. The crowd hated Lath, but they loved Ames. He was a showman, he played to their imagination.

  “Sure, they wanted to see the fighter who could beat him,
and they would cheer the challenger on, but when he won they worshiped him. They could do the same for you, they would do it, they want to. The world needs heroes; to them, the fighters, the gladiators, you are heroes. When they watch the matches, each person out there becomes the fighter of their choice.”

  “How long was he champion? Two, three years?”

  A quizzical expression crossed his face, “Years? Gojai, do you not understand? I was champion for three months. I am in the top two percent. This year marks one hundred and fifty years since the City-State Coliseum Championship was ordained. The average Primus Rule is one to two months.”

  He tried hard to embellish his point, “As of this moment, there have been eight hundred seventy-five champions, only eleven of us have reached the three month mark.” Edgarfield tilted his head and waited to see if that registered in my thinking.

  “So … how long did Ames make it?”

  There was an expression of satisfaction as he said, “Nine months, he made nine months. That is exactly twice the length of the next longest record, with the exception of Lath, who went eleven months.”

  “Doc said she dominated for over a year.”

  He grunted, “Dominated, yes, closer to a year and a half, but she was Champion for eleven months. There have only been two others make it to four, and myself plus five made three.”

  “You know your history.”

  “I know my craft.”

  I really wanted to know about Ames, but didn’t want Edgarfield to know I knew him. I tried to be clever, “I sorta know what happened with Lath, but what about Ames? Did he get killed? What about those seven years?”

  He put his other thumb in his belt. I could tell he wasn’t used to talking like this; but was I wrong, or was he liking it? Shael’s, I was a slave … asking him questions.

  “I did not make such agreement at the time. When I bought him, he was an urchin, much as I had been, only … only … it does not matter. What matters is I trained him myself.