Winds of Torsham (The Kohrinju Tai Saga Book 2)

by J P Nelson

  “S-s-salri-i-ight …” he did a dip and held the staff there, then looked to Dessi and wiggled his eyes, “… hate to tell you … you just are not my type.”

  “Thank Poseidon’s Trident for small favors. Are you going to get in or---”

  Seedle did a little jump, landed on his right thigh and slid the few feet across the opening and easy into Waddles.

  Dessi exclaimed, “Damn boy, you are acting like a kid.”

  Taking a deep breath, Seedle nodded in acknowledgement, “Yeah, you are right. I feel ten years, no, twenty years younger.”

  Dessi had untied from the stake he had set in the ice, Seedle put a foot to the side and pushed off … balancing on one leg as he held the other in a folded position, his staff in the air, and said, “Wa-a-agh-h!”

  Dessi rocked the boat as Seedle slipped down hard into his seat. Looking up at his friend mischievously, Seedle brandished the staff and said under his breath, “Be careful, this thing is loaded … and I am not afraid to use it.”

  Taking up his oar, Dessi asked, “Has that thing got something in it to break water?”

  “No, I do not think so.”

  “Then how about earning your keep?” Dessi nodded to another oar, “People are waiting on us.”

  They made it without challenge to the gulf’s ice surface and set for the ride. Returning the way they came, speed was of essence, but pushing as hard as before was not the goal. It was just the two of them and they still were not sure what could be done, if anything.

  In order to maintain stability the out-riggers were in place and one sail was used. Of course, Waddles was only twenty-three feet on the overall, but a spar was available to be bolted in place for use as a bowsprit. But they wanted to trade sleep time so as not to be exhausted on return.

  As they skimmed along Dessi said, “Okay, let us go over what the staff can do again …”

  “From what I can gather … it can do that big blast thing again, more than once, I think it can make something melt, I can catch something on fire, it can make something hard, like I am thinking stone, and there is something else there. I cannot figure what it is. But I swear, it wants to tell me.”

  “If only you could speak troll.”

  “Yeah, really.”

  “And all you have to do is point and think it out?”

  “Uh-h-h … I am not sure. I think so. Sort of.”

  “Sort of?”

  “It feels like … like …” Seedle was actually at a loss for words.

  “Come on, spit it out.”

  “It is almost sexual … you know …” he shook his fist up and down a couple times.

  Dessi’s eyebrows went up and he said, “O-oh-h-h … so you were not spinning the tale when …” Seedle solemnly shook his head as Dessi added, “… o-o-oka-a-a-ay-y-y then-n-n.”

  Both sat silent and watched the ice go by. Then Dessi asked, “So what do you do for foreplay?”

  Seedle passed a one-eyed glare. His right hand was on tiller; with his left he rolled palm up and wordlessly shook his head.

  Eating well of smoked fish, Sean Dodgers and drinking plenty of water … Seedle and Dessi were as ready as they could be when they splashed back into soft-water and headed up river.

  Carefully they followed the course, then jumped back onto the ice. Slowly they skimmed surface until finding a black-clad body on the frozen riverbank.

  Dessi held crossbow ready as Seedle checked the body, then removed the outer garment. Stepping back into boat he reported, “I do not know what they may carry on person, but ten-to-one says he was frisked; anything of value taken.”

  Indicating the garment, Dessi asked, “What are you going to do with that?”

  “What, do you not relish dressing as a troll? At least it is not all bloody,” he wrinkled his nose, “but it does stink like old piss.”

  On up the river they found four more troll bodies; all frisked in same manner. Here and there they found broken pieces of sticks.

  Dessi offered, “I am thinking the one fellow got away.”

  “Yes, me too.”

  Seedle climbed up onto the riverbank, “Hey … look here what I found.” He held up a Y-shaped stick.

  Dessi asked, “Is it talking to you?”

  “Not really. It looks like a cut, forked tree branch. No big deal. It almost is shaped like an antler, with these two nubs here on the bottom. I could straddle it …”

  “Seed … be careful.”

  “Look … my calves fit underneath … just like this.”

  “Seedle … maybe you should get off that thing … like … now?”

  His left fist around the branch at his straddle, Seedle looked around, then up, and to Dessi’s view squinted his eyes in thought. The thing took off with a lurch, throwing Seedle off the back in a somersault and hitting the river’s ice, and skittered across the surface.

  Dessi ran to Seedle who was standing up, “Are you alright?”

  Seedle wiped blood from a busted lip, looked at it and nodded a reply, “Let us get another set of clothing for me.” Glancing to Dessi he added, “We are only a quarter-mile from the tree. I have an idea.”

  “That scares me.”

  Seedle passed his mate a wink as he collected the flying-stick, “Let us get along.”

  At the island where the trees were downed, they found the Kimble in wrecked state, its mast still tangled in the branches. Signs of blood were everywhere, but there were no bodies.

  They removed the mast and out-riggers and secured Waddles in the midst of the little island. Just in case, she was pointed the way they had come. All salvageable supplies from the Kimble were loaded into the jonboat.

  Seedle explained to Dessi as he stuffed a backpack with some food, “I think all I have to do is think what I want the flying stick to do. Remember they were just a bit faster than us and we were doing what, twenty-eight, thirty knots?”

  “So what am I supposed to do while you go traipsing around?”

  Seedle grinned, “You are gonna give me a hug.”

  “What?!”

  In a few moments, Seedle had the stick between his legs with staff in hand, Dessi was positioned behind him with the pack and crossbow on his back.

  “I do not know why I let you talk me into this.”

  “Because, Dee, you are wise beyond your years. Now hang on.”

  Dessi exclaimed, “Sh-he-e-e-i-i-it-t! It is climbing up my balls.”

  Icy dust was actually blowing around them with a whirling sound as they lifted up by marks, barely.

  Seedle yelled, “Do not talk to me that way with your hands around my belly!”

  They moved in a left-wise circle while moving sideways along the river … then the back end tipped down and they went right-wise. The forked ends of the stick started dragging the hard surface as they moved ever forward.

  Dessi was about to speak when Seedle said, “Be quiet, I got to think here …”

  The nose tipped forward and Dessi’s weight leaned hard on Seedle, who was trying hard to hang on with his one hand. Then they started to rise upward and sideways. Moving across the river, they started into the west woods.

  Dessi raised his voice, “Wrong way, Seedle, wrong way …”

  They raised up to about seventeen feet above their surface when suddenly they scooted quickly across the river. Dessi’s breath left him when they maintained their height, but the river surface was thirty feet further down.

  Into the east woods they were skimming at perhaps twenty knots when Seedle called back in jubilation, “I think I got it …” then suddenly they rolled upside down.

  Wavering as they skimmed through the woods, a tree branch broke off in Dessi’s hair as he began yelling, “Think harder, Seedle, think harder …”

  ___________________________

  Telroy had fallen asleep when Caroll noticed water seeping in from under one sack of Sean Dodgers. That was not a good sign. He looked in all directions in a moment of helplessness. The iceberg was a good mile to t
heir starboard, and all around was sea. Fixing the damage was not something he could do.

  Caroll had learned a select few disciplines during his time with Logan, but they were very few. The humble healing effect he knew had been his most difficult. Fixing wood? Way out of his scope.

  Keeping close eye on the leak, he let Telroy sleep. After he had had some rest, himself, he believed he could heal the lad’s wounds.

  Sheila did well, but she was not fast. They ate, took turns at tiller and bailed cold water. For two days all was as well as could be expected. Then the storm hit, hard, with no warning and with a vengeance. They put in close to the glacier wall, but it was only of marginal help. While trying to get there the mast shattered, hit the sea and the main sail almost caused them to sink.

  With the mast gone, Telroy managed a kite-like sail which actually worked fairly well … until the wind stopped, that is. They had been adrift for hours in the choppy sea when the top of a ship’s mast could be seen in the distance.

  Cheers from the Qua’Korr were loud and hearty, as it became clear it was Telroy and Caroll in the crippled craft. Once they had been taken aboard and all saved that was salvageable, the Sheila was let go to meet her destiny at sea’s bottom, she had done her job.

  Albri was jubilant and distressed at the same time. It was he who lended hand to help the big man up the rope ladder, “Caroll, my friend, it is well to see you.”

  Both hands held the man’s shoulders as he took little time to ask, “Please … tell me … Jann Raul?”

  “It is most favorable to gaze upon your countenance once more. The commodore was of good strength and health when last we spoke, less than six days past. But I fear conditions to be of grave nature.”

  Albri was of one purpose, “Make way men, we must get these two to warm quarters.”

  Blankets had already been wrapped around the men and the head cook was preparing warm soup and drink. Ervis declared, “Take them to my cabin, quickly. Mister Anu, full speed, then come for a heading. I heard Mister Telroy say they came over the ice and they have been out four days.”

  In Ervis’s cabin, the two men were attended and then convened by Albri, Gordi, Feila, Mahrufael, U’Lahna, Fhascully, Kravieu and of course Ervis. Keeping it plain and simple, Telroy spoke excellent exposition without embellishment on the current state of things, then worked his way backward according to question.

  Gordi looked to his old friend, “Brie, they’re at Diehn N’Jiun’s old castle. It’s been deserted near six hundred years, back when O’Lahn Diehn left for his Walk of the World.”

  Albri was intense, but steady, “Can you get me there?”

  “What … you mean right this minute? I could find it …”

  Albri asked Telroy and Caroll, “You know the place. Can you picture it in your mind?”

  Mahrufael was holding up his hand in a wait-a-minute fashion.

  Telroy replied, “Yes sir.”

  Turning to the elf, Albri started to speak when Mahrufael had both hands up, head slowly shaking apologetically, “I am sorry. It would take some time to prepare and I do not---”

  Albri exploded, “Son of a Damn BITCH!”

  The man charged out the cabin, slamming the door. Gordi immediately followed, “Albri … hey, wait a minute!”

  Everyone looked to each other and Mahrufael made gentle comment, “Logan said he was the most calm and steady man he knew … at all times.”

  Fhascully looked to Feila, “You have known him for years. Has he been like this before?”

  She was walking to the door, “Once, when his wife was injured.”

  Albri was a wreck. He knew it wasn’t Mahrufael’s fault. Albri was one of the very few who understood how wizards worked.

  Contrary to popular thought, they didn’t walk around and throw magic like toy balls. They drew energy from the Eldohrich Field and carefully shaped it with varied components, some physical, some by weaving their hands and some by sound.

  Wizards could actually see this energy, they could see it and feel it. For the trained person with the gene, it was like working with clay. Once shaped, each effect had one, two, sometimes more little triggers built into them that only that wizard could work. But to keep the effect primed, the wizard had to keep them compressed in her or his mind … in that place their gene allowed for … something which had been called an eldo-cache.

  Each wizard has their own unique eldo-cache, connected to them by that gene. It had been explained to Albri it was like a muscle. All potential wizards have one, like a bicep or any other muscle. The more the wizard practiced, the more capacity and volume of effects the wizard could store.

  The patterns used to shape these effects were complex, however, which is why wizards use books … so as to keep notes. Wizards put great store by these notes and some would kill over them. Once the effect was released, depending how much space was left in their eldo-cache, the wizard was free to work on another effect.

  Keeping several of these effects in a ready-state was taxing on the mind. The smart ones knew how to keep a balance and give time for rest, just like taking a day off from physical work. The trouble was, the euphoria a person experienced from releasing an effect was addicting. The results of these completed effects were known as manifestations. Most wizards considered themselves scientists.

  Albri had asked, “How about sorcerers and what not?”

  The wizard had replied in an offhand manner, “Their relationship with the Eldohrich Field is different. The difference can be compared between an artist with a variety of fine brushes and oils,” the wizard wrinkled their nose, “and a splash painter who colors houses. Both are considered painters, but one is a true artist.”

  Albri didn’t argue, but he thought, ‘I have seen some artistically painted homes …’

  Gordi caught Albri, “Hey buddy … we will get there.”

  Feila was right beside him, “Brie, listen, what if you arrived in the middle of a gathering of trolls? You do not have all of the facts. And with what we are looking at, we need to be planned and in order.

  “We have warriors on this vessel who are primed to fight. Let’s work it out and make a plan.”

  Albri was frustrated, “But how to get these people there? There is a wall of ice …” he thumbed in exasperation, “… what are we to do … blow it up?”

  The man ran his fingers through his hair and saw Mahrufael at the cabin door with Kravieu and some of the others behind him.

  “I … I offer deepest apologies. I … wait … no ...”

  Kravieu asked, “No apologies?”

  Albri’s mind was suddenly at work, “Captain, how long before we reach the location of that ice flume?”

  Ervis opened his mouth as Albri started rambling, “Let me think, there is a tunnel underneath, the iceberg shifted … Mahrufael, come with me please … where is U’Lahna … can you locate or identify geo-thermal sources … where is my slide-rule … Tammin, I have some questions for you …”

  Gordi and Feila looked to each other, then she asked, “Can you give me a layout of the castle? I will work some strategies and drill the men.”

  “Not a problem. But we have a problem.”

  “Oh? Like we need another one?”

  “Did you notice the descriptions they gave for trolls?”

  She squinted her eyes, “Yes, why?”

  “They were describing common han-trolls.”

  “Okay …”

  “Han-trolls … half-trolls … half-sized trolls. That’s true troll country. Uordak Trolls average twelve feet tall. You have to sever the head, spear the heart, or burn them to keep them from healing ...” Gordi put his hand on Feila’s shoulder, “… and some of them, the gray variety, walk through stone.

  Chapter 64

  THE QUA’KORR RESTED a half mile away from the ice flume. It was early morning of the eighth day since Seedle led his team from N’Jiun Castle. At bow, Albri stood with his slide-rule double checking calculations as he asked U’Lahna, “You
found it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Excellent.” Looking to the gathering around him, he began to explain as if he were in a science class, “What we see of an iceberg is only a small portion of its mass, most is below the water’s surface. If this were one large piece of ice, I believe the mass should reach as far as there …” he pointed not far from forward of the bow, “but this one does not.”

  He paused to let his words sink in and saw his audience lend him their rapt attention. Using his hands to emphasize his words he continued, “I believe we have here at least two separate bodies which have connected together across the top. Possibly they began as one, but warm currents,” he indicated Caroll, “such as been recorded by their expedition, have been eroding the ice on subsurface levels.

  “Whatever the case, here a current has worked its way through in a somewhat vorticular manner.”

  Walking back and forth he took a pause. Kravieu’s arms were crossed as he smoked his pipe, JéPahn was smiling, Fhascully was in a state of absorption, others were just trying to follow along.

  “When we combine two separate elements to form a third, we call it binary fusion; three elements to one is ternary fusion, four elements is quaternary fusion and so on. It is somewhat like a recipe for a stew or cake.

  “Without going into complex detail and formulae most scientists do not understand, I will put it like this …” with his slide-rule he indicated several of the manifestors on deck, “… we are going to manifest a fusion of effects and existing component properties to generate a unique compound. This compound will then be altered into an inverted and rather volatile state, which will be contained via telekinetic energy, then introduced into the tunnel with a reverse polarity, which will in turn be suctioned through the water jet stream by ...” He saw the lost look on some of their faced, “… never-the-mind. When it has reached the desired position … the encasement will be released.”

  Kravieu nudged Fhascully in the ribs and muttered, “This lends reminisce of your explanations.”

  “That good, eh?”

  Rosey asked, “An’ how ya gonna know when it’s where you want it?”