Winds of Torsham (The Kohrinju Tai Saga Book 2)

by J P Nelson

  Jha’Ley nodded. Then he said, “Please do not tell … I believe I have soiled my pants.”

  Caroll flashed a grin and exclaimed, “Ah! So it is such fragrance as I smell. Take no concern, it will freeze and make no bother.”

  Suddenly Jha’Ley laughed and was joined by Caroll.

  Caroll then added, “Come, my friend, I wish to make meal before the darkness falls.”

  Jha’Ley started to climb, then remarked with humor, “Then we have much time to wait, at least another month, yes?”

  The rest of the climb was tense, but without incident. As Jha’Ley crested the rise, and waited to give hand to his partner to step upon the ledge, he gazed at the marvel around him. In many ways he felt as if he had reached the top of the world … ‘But damned if I do this again,’ he thought in earnest.

  Hot tea was waiting for Jon and Ottus as they reached the top. Looking about, the sea was glorious in all directions. But the landscape, it rolled out and climbed mountains which appeared unforgiving in nature. Savage to comprehend, but spectacular to behold; how could anyone hope to traverse such a land.

  After a rest, Jon and Ottus unpacked their cargo and the four commenced to hammer a hollow steel shaft into the ice. Into the shaft they inserted yet another, this time a solid one. A small plaque was bolted to the base, and the flag of Vedoa was hung with tenuous care. In formal fashion, Jha’Ley pronounced, “In name of Queen Morella of the Sovereign Land of Vedoa, I so name this place … Morella’s Point.”

  The plaque was simply inscribed with the same words, by claim of Commodore Jann Raul Jha’Ley, and the date given.

  ___________________________

  Being the Dahruban City-State Champion, in essence the Coliseum Champion of the Associated Kingdoms and all participating territories, has its perks.

  The night I defeated Jindowur I was escorted to my new quarters. We went through a huge tunnel system of hewn rock, down stairs, through halls, up a winding staircase, past doors, finally into a large room about sixteen feet square, with a big, barred window on the left. To the right was a wrought iron bar gate leading into another sixteen-foot square room, the whole ceiling was a bit over seven feet high.

  Interestingly, at the back side of the room was an archway eight feet wide by six feet high, and nice. The opening led into a long room, forming an L-shape with the first, making me wonder if this was a tower. The inside walls were a good foot thick, but the barred window was set into a wall over five feet thick.

  The back room was sixteen feet deep and thirty-one feet long. A similar window was positioned on each end of the room, not quite splitting it into thirds and leaving a ten-foot stretch of wall in between. The ventilation was great, and there were even panels for shutters.

  Mon’Gouchett!

  This would be my home for the next twenty-five months.

  It had been scraped clean, waiting for my arrival. As I appraised my new dwelling, Edgarfield walked in with a crossbow-holding bodyguard. Yup, any rapport we might have had was gone. Whatever.

  “These quarters, Gojai, are hospitality of the City-State, for as long as you retain championship. Likewise, the meals.” He gestured behind him as two guards walked in with my hanging bag. “This,” he added with a twitch of a condescending smile and sideways nod of his head, “is from me, as would be any personal touches, you may elect to indulge.” He was referring to sexual encounters, I knew.

  As in my other cell, at center of the ceiling in the front room was a big, ugly eyebolt. To that, they hung the bag.

  Edgarfield pointed to a guard, “This is Havlin, anything you need or desire, he will avail it to you … if it is within your station.” He made it a point to embellish the reference.

  What had I done to piss him off? No matter, we had a stalemate of sorts. But I think in many ways I had the upper hand … all I had to do was win fast and act nonchalant … and he knew it.

  According to the calendar, I fought every second and third week. So, sometimes I fought week-to-week, sometimes I got a week off. But I never quit training.

  The rooms I could furnish pretty much any way I wanted. But not being used too much, I kept it simple. Besides, I had no way of knowing how long this would last. I honestly did not believe they would find someone to beat me. Not out of arrogance, but deep down inside there was a fire, a smoldering something that would not be quenched. I was going to push myself even harder than Hoscoe had pushed me.

  I must admit, though, the fruit and food was incredible. I had to be careful not to overeat, especially those extra tidbits they put out starting two nights before a fight.

  More than once, over the next two years, something was added to my food, so I just healed the effects. There was no need for me to speculate, I have no idea what was going on and was in no way tied into the politic. I ate, trained, fought, and killed.

  There was, however, time for a bit of interesting learning.

  Four months into my championship, I met Kendle, a young nighttime floor guard trying to learn poetry. Over the course of my championship we became good acquaintances. Not friends, mind you, I still was on a hate binge against everyone, human or elf, it didn’t matter. Looking back, I think I hated myself more than anything. But courtesy was strong with Hoscoe, and it has become so with me.

  After we began talking, Kendle took to watching me during my night training on the bag. Fascination led to questions, questions led to my giving answers, and as time went on I began showing him the fundamentals of kick-boxing, Tohrna-Te style, the system taught to me by Hoscoe, the system developed a thousand years ago by Diehn N’Jiun, the only human to be accepted into an Itahro Elvin tribe, and for whom Nahjiua was named.

  Eventually I showed him Tohrnacios Dorcé, meaning Deadly Dozen in the Elvish, the right way to wield a fighting dagger, some exercises, and a few other things as well. It reminded me of how Ames taught me, way back when. And Kendle was an astute student.

  I’m sure the first few times Kendle came too close to the bars he caught himself, but over time he became comfortable with our leaning into the bars to talk. It was a dangerous thing, and I would train anyone against it, but I wasn’t his keeper. Still, there was something about the kid I wanted to like.

  He was a loner, like me. My momma used to tell me a story about a young shepherd named D’Vad who played music. He was a loner, she said, slight of build but tough, hardy, and smart. He even killed a lion and bear with only a sling shot. One day he became a powerful king. I don’t know why I remembered that, but I did. His land was far, far away, she told me in story form. I figured it was on the other side of Dsh’Tharr.

  Anyhow, D’Vad was a loner, like me and Kendle. He had no friends, I had no friends; Kendle on one side of the bars, I on the other, both prisoners of our own making; we made a pair, he and I.

  As a rule, the only people I saw were the floor guards, who brought me my food and pushed it through a special opening in my gate, Edgarfield when it was time for a fight, the occasional visit by an official to show off the Coliseum Champion to a visitor, and Kendle. Of course, Kendle was the nighttime floor guard.

  Usually I liked it that way, but sometimes it is nice to hear someone else’s voice … do you know what I’m saying?

  One evening, the moons were out bright and Kendle felt unusually talkative. He pointed through the gate to the window in my back room that he could see. As it was, the old castle, the original structure of what is now Dahruban, was clear to view.

  He leaned into the bars as had become our practice and asked, “Do you know the story of that place?”

  I was sitting below that window in a shadow, eating a piece of succulent fruit when he walked up. Getting up, I dipped my hands into a wash basin … one perk I enjoyed was my wash basin and staying clean … dried my hands on a towel, then walked through the archway up to the gate of my quarters.

  Leaning into the bars I thought, ‘I know some of it,’ but being wishful of some honest company I replied, “Tell me about it.”
/>   His face beamed in pleasure, because usually our conversations led to me telling him things.

  “Well,” he started, “It traces back around, oh, eight hundred years ago, when a really old elvin chief had a son by a human woman. This boy grew up to be the one people called the Pied Piper.”

  Suddenly I was interested, the Pied Piper was tied into Dahruban? The old elf was Shl’Nuvai, Km’Jhai’s eldest son. Momma said he was born after Oshang disappeared into the south with his three hundred and eighteen warriors. Shl’Nuvai became first chief of the Jhai’Kota Tribe of Itahro Elves.

  He took a wife in his old age, he was eight hundred, the story goes, but I never heard she was human. Elvin bucks just didn’t do that. I knew of only one other occasion an elf male took a human to mate. Ahnushain, Oshang’s grandfather, took a human female as a wife, and had Johyain.

  Momma said Johyain didn’t have the gift of Natural Ways, but was tall, over six feet, and terrible in battle. She said he had never been beaten and ran among the wolves. And he fathered Oshang …

  I was still mad at Oshang. Why?

  Kendle was still talking, “The Pied Piper …”

  I thought, ‘His name was Pai N’Pahr …’

  “… travelled all through the mountains playing his flute, fighting battles, being a hero …”

  ‘… the Sahrjiun Mountains, Kohnarahs Bay, all the area north of the Alburin Sea to be exact …’

  “… for around three hundred years …”

  ‘… from 4341 ED till 4642, when he was killed …’

  “He made some serious enemies with the elves in Ch’Hahnju …”

  ‘… that I knew …’

  “… and the story is they had him killed.”

  ‘… they lured him into a situation where he had to sacrifice himself to save some woman’s life. It was a really tricky move, but it worked, they killed him.’

  “But the woman who was with him when he died had a son, their son, named Dahrbus Yuban …”

  ‘Now that, I didn’t know ... why hadn’t I been told this tid-bit before? It wasn’t a major point, but it wasn’t like my momma to exclude parts of a story.’ Kendle had my full attention, now.

  “Dahrbus Yuban had been traveling with an elf and his daughter, learning lore and stuff, but when he found out his father had been killed he went on a rampage.”

  ‘An elf and his daughter? How old would momma have been?’

  “The elf was called the Mongoose,” Kendle looked at me and shrugged his shoulders, “that’s the story, it’s written down in old archives up in the old castle,” he nodded through the window and I looked, “but he was a traveler and helped teach Yuban elvin things.

  “Anyway, Mongoose and his daughter---”

  “Did his daughter have a name? I mean, is it recorded?”

  Kendle thought a minute, “Actually, no. Not that I have ever seen, and I’ve read all of it. She was young, though, and loved to sing and dance. There is a note the animals would follow her all around in frolic and play.”

  He glanced again through the window, “There’s a marble statue of her dancing with butterflies and birds. It’s in a garden of blue roses up in the old castle courtyard. There’s a running fountain and everything.”

  I felt as if my stomach had dropped out. Of course, I could just be jumping to conclusions. My imagination tended to run wild that way.

  “But Mongoose helped Yuban find the right band of companions, then they went and avenged the killing of his father. They killed over four hundred Ch’Hahnju warriors, two priests, and a wizard.

  The record has it Mongoose knew of this place, a natural bay with the hills, forests and all. So they laid a foundation and started building the original keep. Mongoose designed the whole castle system, and somehow used some magic in the building. That was four hundred and eighty-one years ago.”

  ‘4660 ED, momma would have been fourteen years old when the foundation was laid. About like a human of eight years, or so. Could it be my momma’s statue up there? Was Ml’Shain the Mongoose?’

  I asked, “What happened? I mean, the government here is a council, right? As a quarter-blood, Yuban could have easily lived to be two hundred and fifty, three hundred years old. Maybe more?”

  “He had four sons on record. Two died in combat, one left for the east and never returned. His fourth son was Van Kajah. He was born when Yuban was over two hundred years old. In fact, Van Kajah lived to be …” Kendle squinted one eye and thought for a minute, “… two hundred and sixteen, actually.

  “Van Kajah was a hellion with a blade and went to Gevard …”

  An icy chill ran up and down my spine.

  “… to fight in a war against orgs. After the war was over, he fell out with one of the big houses there, though, and came back home. He took over running things, then. By that time so many people had come around, they had built the middle wall.”

  I just looked at him.

  “Around the old castle there are two curtain walls, but there were so many people who moved around the castle walls, building up a regular town, another wall was built encasing the entire docks and the outer perimeter. It’s called the Inner City.

  “The place kept growing, so Van Kajah started building the outer wall, the one which is sixteen miles long, from shore to shore.”

  I raised my eyebrows, I was impressed.

  He shook his head with a grin, “… and it keeps growing. So we have the old castle, which is almost never used anymore. The Inner City, where the seat of government is; the Burroughs, where the most important business centers, Chessne Garden, coliseum, and we are now; and the Tertia’Myres, everyone else and all businesses outside the outer wall.”

  “So, what of the government? How did it change”

  “Van Kajah only had one son, a fellow who came from Gevard in the year 320 DY. But he left after five years. Kajah set up the council before he passed, but he declared if his son returned he should be heir.”

  “What was his name?”

  “Josephus, his name was Josephus. When he left, Kajah gifted him with Yuban’s ancestral elvin sword.”

  Chapter 33

  HUGGING CLOSE TO the shoreline, the expedition sailed Ruben’s Gulf with care. All of the Vedoan charts for the region were being proven dead wrong; the Kelshinua Map was right on.

  One evening, Jha’Ley and Rufus were talking over brandy. The sailing master was off watch and had imbibed just a bit more than he may have intended. He wasn’t drunk, not yet, and was speaking his mind, “Huntt was such an imbecile. I am sure he never crossed the boundary into the gulf. See here, sir,” he pointed to a location on the official map, “this entire work is nothing, nothing but a collage of rough drawings of theories he must have seen.”

  Jha’Ley nodded his head in patient understanding, “I know, I know, Ru.” The sailing master was coming off of a long venting session; he really took his mapping seriously.

  “Did I tell you, I knew the man personally?”

  Jha’Ley’s smile was gentle, “I believe so …” three times, actually, in the last ten minutes.

  “I do not accept as true he was ever a legitimate captain. He sailed into port with that, that hulk, and a slovenly crew. All Huntt talked of was how smart he believed himself to be, his preference for women of trashy nature, how great a captain he believed himself to be, and his … his map.”

  Jha’Ley took a sip of brandy and nodded his head.

  “As I view it now, I believe perhaps even, he may have found it … the map, from whence this fabrication is derived. Huntt possessed some facts he collected, but he displayed no imagination and his skills near to non-existent

  “Nor was his man, his sailing master, Patty, anything but lazy and incompetent. How he directed their vessel into port is a mystery. You know how they met their end?”

  Jha’Ley nodded again as both said the words simultaneously, “Into the ocean and into a marked reef …”

  Sometimes a good commander needs to know when
a man just needs to talk.

  Well, when the expedition returned, all would know Huntt’s map was pure fabrication and he a total fraud.

  “You were a young man when he made his claim, were you not?”

  “Aye, just a seaman. Admiral Barry was at the navy’s helm then. Her Majesty had more important matters to hand, then, and the navy was in need of reconstruction. Barry was old, senile, but a smooth politician.

  “There was no one to dispute Huntt’s claim, and he slathered the old man with rich words. The map was purchased, and it is said the coin is still within the hold of his boat, down below.”

  Jha’Ley passed a wink to Rufus, “I believe the queen and court will be most pleased with your and Telroy’s wonderful work.”

  Rufus was pleased, “Thank you. The lad is young for a sailing master’s mate, but he is the most talented I have seen. He is not but of twenty years, but has learned all I have to teach.”

  The two sat in quiet, clearly there was something on the older man’s mind. Finally, toying with his glass, Rufus bluntly said, “This shall be my final voyage, my good friend.”

  Jha’Ley looked from under his eyebrows.

  “I am tired; I am tired, and there is no act I can perform to top being part of this historic cruise.” He pointed to his charts, “And this shall be my crowning achievement, to put to quill solid charts which may assist sailing for years to come.”

  The commodore chewed his inner bottom lip and was quiet.

  On a cheerful note, Rufus added, “I am confident Mister Telroy shall do you proud. He would be the youngest sailing master in Vedoan history … but you have broken a record or two, yourself.”

  “You truly believe he is ready?”

  “Aye. It is my plan for he to command sails on return to home; under supervision, of course. Even now, I have been making his transition to carry full responsibility. And the men like him.”

  Once more nodding, Jha’Ley was in a thoughtful mode. It was true, everyone liked Telroy, and not just his personality, you could see a certain respect among his peers. “Very well, then let it be done.”