Winds of Torsham (The Kohrinju Tai Saga Book 2)

by J P Nelson

  JéPahn sent a mind-pummeling burst of energy into Lesli’s brain. She reeled, dropped to the ground, and in anger she opened her hand and all the energy she had absorbed rushed in dark red tendrils, one from each finger, in a high-pitched explosive effect, each tendril hitting a wizard, from each wizard three to four red tendrils hit other wizards, and from each of these, two to three tendrils more reached out again until every wizard in eyesight was caught in the tendrils of red, fiery energy, their screams horrendous as each erupted into an unquenchable flame.

  Lesli dropped to one knee, exhausted, as two ogres and a troll burst through the trees. Skirret yelled a warning as one ogre grabbed Gus and hurled him into a tree, as an instant later JéPahn *Reached* for its brain, such as it was, and mind-locked the brute.

  The second ogre was across the ground after Lesli, who in turn looked at him and held right hand up as if to absorb … to late realizing her mistake as it grabbed her arm, slung her up and down to the ground as a rag twice with sickening thuds, then stepped on her torso. With glee the ogre seized her left leg and tore her limbs off at shoulder and hip.

  Reaching her thigh to mouth it took a grizzly bite as Gordi ran into camp. Taking in the scene within an instant, he wasted no time and crossed the distance between he and Lesli’s ogre with a whirling leap, landing into a knee shattering strike, a cross-butt swing to the elbow, thrust to the torso, and dropping his staff he made a blood-curdling shout as he placed one palm over the other in a double-spear fashion and pressed toward the ogre. The blurred effect hit the ogre solid and, as Gordi yelled his rage, smashed it into the woods, broke down two trees, and into the storage building of the prison camp nearly three hundred rods away.

  JéPahn’s ogre was holding his head and reeling, when suddenly one eye exploded and the other popped out of socket to hang down its face. Not that it cared, as gray matter suddenly squirted out its ears, then it slowly dropped to the ground dead.

  Skirret finished the troll in short order, then he and JéPahn both checked on the dead Gus.

  Gordi was kneeling over Lesli when Skirret and JéPahn hurried over. Gordi closed the lids of her lifeless eyes as he chewed his lips, “Ga-a … F-f-f … DAMN it girl! You wouldn’t listen, would you?”

  The fellows both noticed Gordi was bleeding through the nose. He was looking at her face when he spoke, “Boys … some things you just never …” he ran his hand through his hair, then noticed his nosebleed as if surprised and added, “Let’s get the shit out of here. You seen the elf?”

  JéPahn looked at him and Gordi suddenly seemed worn out and tired. He explained what he saw in Lesli’s mind.

  “The hell?! You boys get back to Sheila, I’ll find Ruf.”

  Skirret stooped to pick up Lesli, then Gordi grabbed him, picked him up with one hand as if he were a small child and spoke in a savage tone, “Listen, Red, you’re a good kid and one of Feila’s team … but this ain’t no damn field of honor and she’s dead, so’s he and their troubles are over. But some of the worst nightmares short of dragons and demons are comin’ our way fast. The living need you, now, unencumbered. Now MOVE! You can hate me later!”

  Waiting long enough to make sure the two double-timed it out, Gordi wiped his nose and ran to find Mahrufael.

  The elf had his last two trolls in hand when suddenly a wave of nausea hit him. He thought, ‘What …’ then the glow of his sword and dagger flickered as he thought, ‘This is really bad timing.’

  The first blow bashed his left hand and sent his dagger spinning off into the forest, then his knee was hit as he went down wracked with pain. Rolling, he narrowly evaded a blow which would have likely ended his career, among other things. He was being thankful this pair was armed with cudgels, not blades.

  Mahrufael looked, dressed, spoke and conducted himself with elegance and thrived on education, but had spent his early years on a common farm. Without thinking of it, he knew a good many of his contemporaries would have distained soiling such clothing as he was wearing on the ground. Truly, his jerkin alone drew a price equal to a common laborer’s pay for a year.

  But Mahrufael wasn’t thinking of his many suits, fine clothing, the scuffing of his knees on this ground, or his jerkin. He was thinking of survival and rules of barnyard fighting. Basically, there are no rules.

  With his thoughts still strangely sluggish, he grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it up into the nearest troll’s face. Sensing the desired result, he planted both hands on the ground and reached up to jam his foot full-flush into the fellow’s groin. Again getting the desired result, he performed a back-roll to his feet as he saw the one adversary stumble in the way of the other.

  Straight saber still in hand, he ran the injured one through the body sideways. Withdrawing, he cross-stepped and met the second coming in. These particular trolls must be minions, base infantry, for their skills were not very high. He parried, whipped the blade overhead and laid the basket of his hilt against the troll’s neck. They both paused for just an instant and looked each other eye-to-eye, as both resonated understanding of what was coming next. Mahrufael raised his eyebrows twice and gave an affable smile as he glided the keen edge along the fellow’s … well, you get the picture.

  As the troll staggered back holding his neck, the elf’s head suddenly came clear. He shook it as his sword began to glow again. Mahrufael thought, ‘Splendid. I may now find my dagger.’

  But before he could turn to the woods, a sour-faced, surly looking fellow walked out of a tent holding what looked to be a long kopesh pointed to the ground. The troll was bare-chested, furry as opposed to hairy and appeared to have been sleeping … rather … abruptly awakened from a sound sleep and now very off-center.

  He looked Mahrufael up and down then expressed a sinister grin. He actually raised his weapon in salute, to which the elf politely gave return. The troll took up a fighting stance and Mahrufael thought, ‘This should be interesting,’ and took up a stance of his own.

  Then the troll’s blade erupted in a purple and yellow flame.

  Taken aback for only an instant, the elf thought, ‘Ah, so this is the one. I think extreme caution and full power to be the plan …’

  Where the straight saber emanated a gold-tinged white glow, the white turned sapphire blue with a tinge of radiant silver. The effect would not last as long, but it was much more powerful and could cut through steel.

  Cautiously, the two began to circle each other. Watching the troll’s footwork, Mahrufael knew this fellow was trained.

  Tentatively they touched each others blades. As they did, there was a shower of orange and gold sparks with a bz-z-z-z-zk-k-kt-t-t sound. They circled, feeling each other out … touch-brush-touch-touch … with sparks flying, the troll grinning in calculated anticipation. Mahrufael studied his opponent as if in a game of chess.

  That kopesh was a cruel looking hacking blade, but the end was tapered to do a wonderful job of spearing the unfortunate opponent. Mahrufael already knew his foe was not a wizard, or else he would have realized the elf was reading the magic in the blade. It was fused with the essence of a volcano. It would cut through rock, and if it penetrated the torso it would cause the person to erupt, or explode.

  As I said, Mahrufael is very elegant, and were he describing this in his own way, he would use very proper terms of fencing and what have you. So with courtesy to him I will try to use some of these, at same time trying not to confuse you, you who have stayed with me this far and would have no idea what he was talking about, which is often my case.

  The two continued their cautious circling, touching blades together, both seeming to enjoy the flash of gold and orange. Then they paused for an instant as weapons came together in En-garde position. Mahrufael applied pressure to the troll’s kopesh in what’s called Pression, to move it out of line, as the elf tried to feel his opponent out.

  Mister Troll pressed back, apparently to lull Mahrufael into thinking he was only a novice and leaving himself open to Dégagement and Coup D’Estoc, whic
h is a circular disengagement of blades followed by straight line thrust. He then executed a semi-circular parry pressing the saber from a high to low-line position, otherwise known as taking the blade from Tierce to Seconde.

  Keeping contact with the elf’s blade, the troll slid his kopesh forward with a full lunging thrust, a move punctuated with a bright flash and loud z-z-z-zh-h-h­g-g-gt-t-t, to which Mahrufael moved back with a cross-step called Passee Arriére … then immediately closed the distance and beat the troll’s blade with an explosion of light to the outside, followed by a thrust to the chest.

  The troll countered with a circular parry and attempted to execute a technique called a Bind, to press Mahrufael’s saber in a downward diagonal fashion as the two now found themselves moving onto a rocky outcropping.

  Anticipating the troll’s move, Mahrufael performed Dérobement, an evasion of a Bind maneuver, and followed with a Riposte, which is a thrust immediately following a parry. Mister Troll skirted with a dodging movement called an Esquive, with a semi-circular parry into Tierce followed by stepping in with a hard punch to the jaw … knocking the elf off the rock.

  The troll was very powerful and the blow caught Mahrufael solid, lifting him into the air and turning him about. When he landed it was flat on his back, knocking the wind out of him and his saber from his hand.

  Mister Troll executed a flip from the rock to land on his feet, a move one would not think of from a troll. Had he not taken the time to gloat, the fight may have been over, but a deep hatred for all elves is said to run true in all trolls, and this one was tasting victory.

  He kicked the saber from the elf’s seeking hand, then kicked him hard in the stomach while speaking words one can only guess. Crouching between elf and sword in a taunting, stalking manner, as Mahrufael scrambled to rise, the troll nimbly set himself up and kicked him in the face knocking him over backward.

  This time Mahrufael was able to roll backward to his feet, as he did he was thinking, ‘This would be a wonderful time to be assaulted by more trolls.’

  Still dazed, the elf did not recognize the next movement, he only saw an arc of purple and yellow flame coming at him fast … he swatted at the arc with his hand, effecting a small glowing blue shield which met with an exploding pulse of gold light, then again, then again, then once more … Mahrufael told himself, ‘Only one more …’ as he set in a crouched position for the death-dealing blow … then as the strike landed he leaped up with a *High Jump* effect … clearing the troll by six feet up … turning a corkscrewing somersault … and landing ten feet away … just enough to … Mahrufael looked to his still glowing saber several feet beyond the troll, and winked.

  Mister Troll was caught off guard as he saw the saber disappear in an imploding flash of dusty blue light, then appear in the elf’s hand with a burst of dusty blue smoke.

  Again the two circled, much more warily this time, then came together again in En-garde position. Mister Troll launched a compound attack beginning with a Froissement, grazing the saber with a strong action as he thrust to the ribs, but Mahrufael countered with a Parry Quarte, which is a pressing movement across the body.

  The troll evaded the parry with a Coupé, reaching back from the saber’s point followed by a Coup de Taille, chopping hard to the neck … which Mahrufael countered with a Parry Tierce and Croisé, deflecting the blade with an up-hooking motion followed by pressing the kopesh straight down.

  Before the elf could follow through, the troll executed a Dégagement with Glise, which is disengagement with a sliding of the blade bringing another bright show of light, into a Moulinet, which is a fan-like overhead swing to the head.

  Mahrufael performed a Parry Prime, an umbrella block from overhead, and changed the line of engagement from high to low by rolling the blades over in Liement. He followed through with multiple Envelloppements by rapidly circling the kopesh, at the top of one Envelloppment rolling into Full Pronation snapping his hand down and back … effectively disarming the troll, then immediately pressing the saber tip to the troll’s throat in Full Supination.

  The troll slowly backed up until finding himself against a large tree. Disgust filled the troll’s eyes, but there was something of respect, too. He actually said something and nodded in salute to Mahrufael, who tilted his head, then nodded back. Mahrufael thought, ‘If even a troll can show courtesy …’

  The troll closed his eyes and leaned his head back, Mahrufael ran his throat through … the power of the saber made the neck arteries to boil, causing the neck to explode and sending the troll’s head rolling to the ground. It was perfect timing as the power of the saber faded.

  Seeing the kopesh had also powered down, Mahrufael hurried to it. Pulling a sapphire from his side pouch, he quoted some words and the sword turned into a black cloud of dust and was absorbed into the jewel. He wanted to study that sword.

  Now to find his dagger … but wait … in the not-so-far distance he heard hurried movement through the woods. Stepping behind a tree he moved his fingers in a twisting pattern and turned invisible. In moments he saw four human-sized figures dressed in troll garb moving quickly in direction of the wizard camp. Something was not right, however.

  Invoking another effect, Mahrufael walked without sound or trace, as if not quite touching the ground, and cautiously followed. Two of the figures moved like human men, were they prisoners? As Mahrufael slowly gained on them, he saw one human turn to speak to the others. Was that a commanding tone, in the troll’s own language?

  Mahrufael followed them to what he realized was a distortion in the forest, a magically camouflaged tent somewhat apart from everything else. They stopped twenty feet from the effect as one of the humans raised his hands and incanted some words … dispelling a protective ward.

  As he spoke, the others looked nervously around and Mahrufael suddenly recognized one of the clearly human faces, a face he hadn’t seen in a long time, an elderly face.

  What were they doing here? A human wizard in charge? Was he in charge of the whole operation?

  The tent came into view and they started to hurriedly enter when Mahrufael came into view from forty-five feet away and called out, “Captain Liam?!”

  All turned to face him, startled, but the other human and one troll went into instant action. The other human was middle-aged, but the elf did not recognize him. He did recognize the effect prepared to hurl his way; this version had been notated and composed over a thousand years ago by Efforahd the Evoker, known as Efforahd’s Fallion Inflammatory. But Mahrufael did not ignore the three fist-sized prismatic spheres the first troll cast at him, those he did not recognize … but he was not caught off-guard.

  Sword in sheath, he waved his hands just as the spheres reached him … hitting an invisible Eldohrich Energy cup-shaped field of force and unraveling like so many razor sharp ribbons … only an instant before a thirty foot ball of liquid fire hit the same field as Mahrufael bent under impact of the concussion.

  That force field could take a lot of potential damage, but there was little left of available protection. Mahrufael was not daunted, nor was this his first Essence Dual. The human wizard had grabbed Liam and lunged for the tent door. Mahrufael thought, ‘What could be in the tent to protect …?’ then instantly he knew.

  Spinning in a right-wise circle, he flashed his right hand as if slinging water at them from his fingertips. Instantly the trolls began to move in exaggeratedly slow motion. But the second troll had pulled out a rod … wait … not a rod … a wand … and fired it at him.

  A mottled blue and brown pellet-sized effect was in the air. It was slowed by Mahrufael’ own effect, but still moving quickly. The elf’s countermeasure was to lean low to the left, then fire a string of five successive small orbs of white light against the in-coming effect, effectively reducing it to vapor.

  The human had narrowly escaped the slowing effect, but the trolls were still caught in slow motion. Mahrufael’s next move was best reserved for mass attacks, but he was of no mood to play aroun
d. Bracing himself, he let fly with a surge of lightning that hit the wand and blew it up, and electrocuted the two trolls.

  Running to the tent, Mahrufael looked through the entrance from an angle, then entered cautiously. His elvin vision generally revealed invisible targets, but he performed an in-depth detection scan against negative energy, energy, and … and aura’s. What he feared showed up … a strong residual trail from a teleportation. Mahrufael’s only thought was, ‘Reinforcements …’

  Pulling a silk wrap from his pouch, he opened it to reveal two large, perfect diamonds. Musing hard, he put one back into the wrap, back into pouch. Taking a container of dust, he tossed it into the area the troll had disappeared and articulated his fingers. Nodding his head to himself he muttered, “Cat into the dog’s kennel.”

  Holding the diamond in front of him, he clenched it, waved his other hand, and incanted, »Niako-ton-tai!«

  Mahrufael disappeared in an imploding flash of indigo light.

  Chapter 69

  FOR THE MOMENT, the prison camp was secured by Feila’s rescue team, but only for the moment. A horn sounding resulted in trolls pulling back, but she had no intention in waiting around.

  Jha’Ley had been identified and all known living prisoners were evacuated. The storage building was pretty much smashed, but Feila had JéPahn scanning as far as he could for signs of human life. Most of her men she had already sent to support the escaping prisoners.

  Shaking his head he said, “All clear, Feila, except for Gordi,” he added with concern, “and I cannot find Mahrufael … or U’Lahna.”

  Albri was alert to the report and glanced about with anxiety, then rubbed his nose as he began to speak … but JéPahn suddenly added, “Gordi says he found Mahrufael’s dagger … but no sign of him.”

  Albri grit his teeth, then offered in a hopeful tone, “Mahrufael can teleport great distances …”