Winds of Torsham (The Kohrinju Tai Saga Book 2)

by J P Nelson

  Fhascully wanted to watch, but the pending patient took priority. The man was desiccated from trying to escape the dreaded disease. He had been trapped above and watched the little settlement die.

  As he thought it was safe, he found himself sick and too weak to attempt descent. As Fhascully got up to him, the man was coughing the black.

  Quickly they made a mix of the remedy and began to feed it to him. U’Lahna was there and made her own examination. It was her first contact with the plague in this stage. Those she had met in Grindstaff were already well along in recovery.

  “I know not what this is. His lungs have near to gone, much other inside is bad.” She looked with concern to Fhascully, “My strength is this day but gone. My own power could reverse and make cure this man, and more, but not my strength as now.”

  She said with great approval, “It is well you come and bring life with you.”

  “I fear I cannot take the honor. My action is to take what I have learned and share it abroad. I have only provided sweat.”

  U’Lahna smiled, “But such sweat as has power of healing. Any can cause harm, but greatest force is such which heals.” Looking to the others she added, “I am but depleted. Let us bring fire unto shelter, make supplication his journey through night’s course. Freshness of air is great avail, yet he requires water and broth.”

  Fhascully himself stayed up the night with the man. Off to the side he watched U’Lahna sleep a sound, restful sleep.

  The next morning, the sick man was still alive. U’Lahna performed breathing rituals which Fhascully thought looked a lot like Jha’Ley’s Tai’Jhi. Then she came over, felt of the man’s head, then closed her eyes and focused.

  The man came quickly wide awake and projectile vomited a huge gout of thick blackness. He then coughed several times until his lungs were clear, much like someone who has nearly drowned and must clear their lungs of water. Sitting up, he was obviously weak, but he was coherent and aware of where he was.

  Looking to the ledge, his first words were, “My family … they are … they are …”

  “Sir,” Fhascully began, “they are no more.”

  The man put his head in his hands and sobbed. He was a farmer, a man who had lived a wild younger life, but took a wife and started a family; now this.

  Fhascully explained their mission and need to move on, but did the man have any information to give? Only a man named Maxell who came through weeks ago, and there had been some small trade with the village down the way. A hunter had arrived from Woolburg, but he had been sick when he got there.

  It was decided to take the man, whose name was Vater, with them. U’Lahna had washed him of the illness, but he was still very weak and could use some nursing. Furthermore, here was the rub as she explained it, “When I use that which humans call magic making illness depart, body does not make strong for fighting illness again. Many times, body anew become infected.

  “When body keep little bit illness, I help make strong for fight illness. Now, many times will not take ill of same.

  “You understand?”

  Fhascully contemplated long and hard on her words, “Yes, I think so. Yes, when thought upon, it does make sense.”

  It was not something to have crossed his mind before. When one thinks of magical healing, it is an assumption that …

  He looked up with an epiphany, “If a man is in a mud hole, if doused with water he may be cleaned for a moment. But should he stay within said hole, he will become dirty again. If you toss him a rope and help him out, he then has the chance to stay clean. Your healing magic, or whatever it really is, is like splashing someone with water …”

  U’Lahna gave it due thought, then nodded sideways and replied, “Yes, this is correct.”

  Fhascully walked to the man and said, “You are going with us. I pray you are thirsty.”

  Once more they made ready sleigh and sled, but this time all knew what to expect. All that is, but Vater.

  Klaus yelled back and yelled, “Are all ready?!”

  The call was given and he snaps the reins. U’Lahna held her hands forward and as speed was made, the front deer began to rise upward. Vater’s yells could be heard in echoes through the forest.

  Woolburg was not actually a town in itself, but a collection of settlements which met in a square of buildings at center. Originally the area was known for raising a unique breed of mountain sheep and harvesting its wool, then manufacturing a variety of woolen products.

  In the last several years, a high grade of iron ore was found and mines were established. During the warmer months, the products were transported down the mountains and into the Bay region. Rarely did anyone attempt venturing in or out during the ice season. Maxell was one of the rare persons to do so.

  The sky was dark and overcast, the moons well hidden, and flurries made warning of a pending storm as the sleigh riders first looked down upon the desolate sight of Woolburg. Fhascully’s first thought slipped through his lips, “Is their any to be found alive?”

  The airborne relief team circled the perimeter of the place, and did see evidence of fires in a few buildings. Landing not far from one such building along the main way, the sight would have been splendid … had anyone been out to see it … as upon the deserted street the lead deer touched down on the run, then one by one the others followed suit. Finally the whole group came to a stop.

  Fhascully made a dry remark, “My good Klaus, should you add bells to your sleigh, the jingling might arise someone to lend us greeting and make preparation for tea and cake.”

  As the sleigh came to a stop, Klaus passed him a sly look, “Do you make preference of trekking return by foot?”

  “On the aside, mayhap a quiet approach is altogether satisfactory.”

  The building they saw with the lights was a three level tavern named The Rusty Cup. Although candle glow could be seen through the icy windows, not a sound could be heard. There was no music, no words of revelry, not even the crash of a fight.

  Fhascully drew his sword and Klaus followed suit, drawing from his belt a dagger with a gleaming twelve-inch curved blade. Serge and others readied crossbows, making ready from all sides.

  U’Lahna said, “I enter above.”

  She caught them by surprise as she crouched down, jumped up as she reached high with her spear, and then landed on top of the roof.

  Fhascully turned to Klaus with a shake of his head and said, “I am most pleased she is on our side.”

  Serge asked, “Mister Klaus, would you care for my sword?”

  Klaus brandished his dagger, “Small place, need small weapon.”

  The two moved as if they had worked together for years, as Fhascully and Klaus tread cautiously to the tavern door.

  Fhascully knocked and yelled inward, “Is there anyone inside?”

  There was no answer as he held up three fingers, then two, then one, then a fist. As he closed his fist he shouldered open the door.

  Instantly a crossbow bolt whistled his way, but he smacked it to the side with his blade and parried a second one as well. Fhascully stepped fast around the door as a man from the inside swung down with a battle axe. Klaus cross-stepped in and countered the swing with his dagger. Sweeping his arm in an arc, he trapped the man’s arms together. Instead of slicing the throat, Klaus rapped the fellow in center of the forehead with his pommel.

  Directly across the way was a long bar. A dirty, burly man had been stretched out upon it, apparently in sleep. He slid down and grabbed a bottle by the neck and made as if to advance, but a bolt by Serge, now kneeling in the doorway, entered his pants in the straddle and pinned him to the bar. Halting, the man looked down to the feathered shaft now protruding between his legs. He spread his hands wide, afraid to touch the shaft with his free hand, and slowly looked to Serge in angst.

  Another fellow, staggering, lunged at Klaus with a dagger. With a side-step, Klaus deflected the blade and caught his wrist. Twisting, the blade was dropped in pain as he also was rapped in the f
orehead, just as yet another fellow thrust a sword where Klaus’s kidney had been. A whirling motion with an umbrella block and Klaus neatly evaded the man, grabbed his wrist from the outside, and with a pommel strike to a nerve in the arm caused the man to drop his sword. Klaus then stepped under the seized arm and delivered a controlled fireman’s carry onto the floor. There was no thud, Klaus laid the fellow out as if depositing a sack of potatoes. Then he laid the edge of his dagger firm upon the man’s throat.

  As Klaus dispatched his final man, another flashed a wavering piece of long steel at Fhascully. A parry here, parry there, a deflection, and the offending blade departed numb fingers to stick itself solid into the wall. With his point against the man’s neck, Fhascully slowly walked him across the center of the room until coming to rest against a table.

  Serge was into the room, sword drawn and ready with two more crossbowmen kneeling in the door.

  Fhascully called out, “We are not here to cause harm.”

  From the staircase, a woman was near to the bottom and called out in a weak voice, “Boys, vandals do not enter the front door.”

  The room was filled with cots, most containing men and women in various stages of illness.

  Tensions were dropped as Klaus withdrew his blade, then offered a hand up to the man on the floor. Serge slowly sheathed his sword and the men in the doorway stood.

  Fhascully pulled back his own sword, and with a glance to the man at the bar, ever-so-slowly making sure his male-hood was intact, made a quick query to Serge, “Did you intend such shot?”

  “Yes Mister Fhascully. A brief pass of the eyes gave me belief these meant no ill will. A warning should suffice.”

  Fhascully sheathed his sword and hurried to the woman while making reply, “Excellent. You will do.”

  Fhascully reached the woman and proclaimed, “You are sick.”

  She began to speak, then turned in a faint as Fhascully caught her from the bottom stair and U’Lahna appeared at the stair top saying, “All rooms filled of sickness, some make final path.”

  Fhascully ordered the men in the doorway, “There are fires already lit. Make haste, bring in the remedy. Our work begins here.”

  Chapter 39

  THE MAN WHO Klaus had helped up coughed several times, then asked, “You are here to lend aid?”

  Looking for a place to lay the woman down, Fhascully replied curtly, “Yes.”

  The fellow declared, “Then by all means, help her first.”

  “Where is her bed, upstairs?”

  “She has not one.”

  Fhascully flashed him an irate look.

  The man coughed again, then sat down in weakness as he replied, “It is she who has been tending us---”

  “Serge, get two fresh bedding rolls, now! We will use one for a mattress upon the floor.”

  Klaus cleared an area as already the first of the skins were brought in through the door. Fhascully held the unconscious woman as the fellow he had held at point sneezed several times, then nodded to the woman, “Her name is Nicole, she was here from the beginnin’ when the sickness started.”

  Another man added, wheezing blackness as he tried to speak, “We tried to get her to leave to find Gomiss Hole and ride it out, but she would not listen. ‘Who will tend you,’ she asked. Now she finally took it too.”

  Fhascully looked about, “How long …”

  A fellow sitting, clad in blankets against a corner spoke, “It began about the last full moon.”

  Klaus said, “Jehna makes full next in three days.”

  Serge had two rolls of bedding, which he spread out on the cleanest part of the floor he could find. Fhascully gently laid Nicole on the blankets and tried to gauge her condition. He asked into the room, “Does she have family, is she from here?”

  A man lying upon the floor replied, “She is a whore, came here at fifteen to work for Silas, right here, a whore …”

  Fhascully hesitated, then looked to the speaker, “I see a woman, a woman who risked her life to nurse you.”

  The man’s eyes widened as he responded, “Mister …” he coughed hard, then sneezed and coughed again, blackness coming from within, “… mister … I meant no offense. But she is a whore, yet the good people, the doctor, priestess and there ilk, left us to hole up in a house up on yonder hill, leaving everyone else to die.”

  Looking to U’Lahna he asked, “I think her to be in the middle stages. She deserves the immunity, could you give her the lending you spoke of,” he looked to where remedy was being put to pot and placed on stove, “to give her an easement until a cup is made ready?”

  U’Lahna knelt down, placed her hand upon Nicole’s brow, and breathed deeply. The woman groaned, but then settled into a deep sleep.

  Fhascully looked to Klaus, who nodded, then naturalist and elf made way up the stairs to make detailed examinations as Fhascully muttered, “Doctor … left the sick?” There was not time, however, to consider the thought for long.

  The upstairs had every room full. Five were dead and another eleven were breathing the black foam.

  U’Lahna said, “Fhascully, I can make stable these, yet there is only which I can do. We require assist.”

  “Who, who can help us? I would be surprised if only half of the town is gone.”

  “Let us make search of town; there are trees of center square.”

  “Trees? I do not understand.”

  “This I know. Come, let us go.”

  She went from person to person and gave touch. Then she held out her hand and he took it.

  Down the stairs, Fhascully said to Klaus, “We are going to the square for a time, but we will be right back.”

  The sleigh was empty, so with two crossbowmen they drove to the center square. It was a pretty sight, with a well, a marble statue, benches, and trees … two of which were large oak trees.

  U’Lahna slung her backpack upon her shoulders, then took her spear. Looking to Fhascully she said, “I shall return.”

  Curious, he walked after her toward one of the oak trees. She stopped, turned to glance at him once more, then walked right into the tree and disappeared. Fhascully’s eyes widened and he was taken aback. He thought, ‘Why should I not be surprised?’

  The work was indeed begun. Considering the size of remedy dose, they had enough for the people in The Rusty Cup, but there was much, much more to do. This area was not well laden with the spruce needed. Also, it was more likely to be populated with rough characters and bandits. One of the chores; would be to find, then harvest Liukena Spruce needles, find honey, goat butter, and so on. But here they were not to have the immediate support as in Grindstaff.

  Well, they had known all that before beginning the trip. Now it lay before them to make things happen.

  Teams from their crew were sent out to bring in as many ingredients as possible. Another need was food, water, and supplies. The contaminated blankets were to be boiled and washed. U’Lahna had told Fhascully it would be a simple matter for her to cleanse these things, just work to remove the soiling.

  A reconnoiter of the town confirmed Fhascully’s suspicion; more than one-half of the core population was lost. The outlaying area of Woolburg was still a question, however. There had been much looting and small tribes of bandits were now claiming parts of the town as their own territory.

  On the third day, Fhascully accompanied the water drawing team to the well on the square. “I have to get out into the air, fellows,” he told them.

  Six bandits with crossbows advanced them as they were drawing water. A seventh held a sword and walked up to Fhascully and said with a sneer, “Thank you for bringing us meat on the hoof.”

  Serge reported the sneer was still on the man’s face when a bored Fhascully loped his head off, then severed another man’s leg at the knee, and deflected a launched bolt into another man’s chest.

  Fhascully had looked to Serge and said loud enough for all to hear, “Remember these faces, Serge, let none of these partake of the remedy.”
/>
  One of the survivors asked, “Remedy? What remedy? Hello man, what remedy do you speak of?” Fhascully just turned and helped load the water. As they left, the man could still be heard asking in between sneezing fits, “What is this remedy? Does it pertain to this sickness? Hello sir, please return …”

  On the fourth day after U’Lahna stepped into the tree, a procession of seventeen buckskin-clad men and women led by U’Lahna made way to The Rusty Cup. As Fhascully stepped out to meet them, he was all but speechless.

  U’Lahna said, “Make me allow present Ko’Sharr, foremost my students in Order of Nahlohra.”

  “Well I … I am pleased to meet you.” To U’Lahna he added pleasantly, “I see you have not forgotten us.”

  She tilted her head and he determined she did not get the joke. Glancing over the group, he saw most were elves with a couple of half-elves. He was startled to find five were human … or was it four? The one fellow was wide, really wide and had six fingers … oh … a chonatt. It had been years since he had seen one. But the double-take came when he realized one of the Ko’Sharr had four legs. Ah … a centaur. That was something, uhm, someone, he had not seen before.

  She … it was a she wasn’t it, it, her … she noticed him noticing her and gave a pleasant nod of the head and passive smile.

  Fhascully said to U’Lahna, “If you will follow me, we have reopened a café right down the road. The Cup has been organized into a proper hospital.”

  There, over meal and mug, Fhascully brought U’Lahna up to date regarding activities and progress. Together, they outlined short and long term objectives and a multi-level staged plan of action.

  In course of the next several weeks, every building in Woolburg proper was explored. Then the Ko’Sharr put their superb tracking abilities to test, as each trail leading out of town was detected and followed to their extreme ends. Above all else, one thing was clear; the Gerardo Plague could not be allowed to leave the mountain.

  The work was taxing and more than once encounters were made with those pursuing anarchy. To this end, Fhascully was resolute and he wanted it clear to the folk with him. The first week in Woolburg was coming to a close when he declared, “Any person or creature which is not cooperative with our effort is to be slain, without exception. All contest is to be regarded as a hostile act.”