Winds of Torsham (The Kohrinju Tai Saga Book 2)

by J P Nelson

  Seedle was specifically charged with determining distance and safety for getting across the barrier. Toagun, on the other hand, was making mental notes regarding a possible escape option. Seedle missed banter with Dessi, but on this one the Marine opted out, there were some issues which needed his immediate attention. Corad would be on this team.

  They also noticed some of those cheese-holes looked to be connected, one into another, just like a block of Swiss Cheese. Beyond the visible edge from the lagoon, there was a slight but steady series of inclines for about three miles.

  Once at the top they found themselves on a wind-swept plateau. Caroll estimated they were about four and a quarter hundred feet above sea level. There were some rough points here and there, a few ridges and fissures, but mostly it was flat. The wind was constant, multi-directional, and regularly blew clouds of ice and snow particles across the surface. Some of these were rather abrading to the skin.

  If the men were standing upright, they would be pushed around by the wind. But if they crouched low and held still, enduring the gust was no challenge.

  Hiking due east for something over two miles, they found a ridge about seven feet tall and shaped like a broken horseshoe. Here the team found some shelter from the wind and took respite.

  Standard operating procedure for all Jha’Ley’s away-teams was to carry tea and a supply for fires using a type of dried seaweed Fhascully found. It would burn longer than wood, was much lighter and took up less space in the rucksack.

  The Ubank’s cook, Sean, had experimented with an ancient recipe of pressed corn biscuits, called corn dodgers. Using yet another of Fhascully’s seaweed discoveries, he mixed the dried vegetable with combinations of ground corn and rice, honey, peas, and salt to bake his own version of biscuit. Like corn dodgers, they were half again as big around as a golden-kale coin, but thicker.

  Dessi claimed, “If not careful, one can break their teeth trying to chew the things. The good news prevails, should a man run out of bolts to fire, he can throw these things and kill the target outright.”

  Sean had made close monitor of his product. His first batch was baked while sailing about Avalon, and those he put aside were still in perfect condition, with nary a show of mold and just as fresh tasting as after they had dried.

  Jha’Ley had ordered Sean to make as much as possible to be kept in store and use for away-teams. They found the same, now called Sean Dodgers, could be sliced thin and stewed in hot water to make a hearty soup.

  It was to a meal of Sean Dodgers and tea the team took break for.

  Seedle was making comment to Toagun and Caroll, “The surface is not that bad, though care must be made of the fissures. But the wind makes travel slow.”

  Caroll agreed, “It is so. Conflict makes prominence twixt east and west sides of exuding barrier wall, lending vexation to our upright movement.”

  Toagun looked at him, “Can’t you just say, ‘The wind is beating the shit out of us?”

  Seedle chuckled and glanced about, “I wonder if moving boats up here might not be a bad idea.”

  “I think it could be done. It would take some work, but pulling Waddles with those skids under her as they are, would be no problem. If we did the same to the barges …”

  “You know the commodore will not go for it.”

  Toagun thought, “Yeah. Too many men for the craft available, someone would be have to be left behind. There would have to be supplies carried as well. And we wouldn’t want to go straight across the blue. The boats would need to follow the coastline to Nahjiua, and that is a little ways down.”

  Toagun thought some more before asking, “You boys know him better than me … know he breathes water, don’t you?”

  Seedle and Caroll glanced at each other and Seedle replied with a straight face, “I thought he could hold his breath a long time.”

  Toagun grinned sarcastically, “Yeah, right; half hour at a time? I saw you right behind him once when those gills were working. My point is; what’s to keep him from keeping on going? He doesn’t need us, and he eats that one kind of seaweed fresh torn from the patch.”

  Seedle’s expression turned from friendly conversation to a mild glare as Toagun put his hand up, “Hey, I’m not being offensive. I’m just asking …”

  Caroll was calm with hint of a knowing smile, “Honor.”

  Toagun took a sup, raised his eyebrows, then said, “One word, huh? Okey dokey. It works for me.”

  Seedle asked, “Would you leave your men?”

  “Good question, because you don’t know me. No. But,” he looked across the years into memory, “I knew an officer who did.”

  Caroll made comment, “A sordid experience such may be. Even as such dire conflict transpire, Jann Raul Jha’Ley shall stand rail, braced by his man even to tragic end.”

  Seedle was idly giving inspection to the ridge, “Were we to try bringing boats across here, this would be a good camp.”

  “Yeah, good point. It would take a few men to pull, maybe some to push. Once the boat got moving it would be easy, but a break point would be good. Hot chow would be great.”

  “Should not resolution of transit suffer hold in anticipation of barrier’s edge discovery? Immanent passage may not yield itself for safe downward transit.”

  Seedle and Toagun both stared at Caroll. The big man raised his hand up, then pointed it straight down as he added, “Eastern face may bring abrupt conclusion to pursued journey.”

  Toagun asked, “Bosun Caroll, do you ever have wet dreams?”

  Caroll raised his eyebrows a bit, “Your meaning?”

  Seedle called out, “Alright men, let us make camp and get proper rest. I do not want to chance not finding as good a shelter.”

  Across the next mile they found scattered bones of what looked to be moose, or a moose-like creature. It, they, had been hunted way out here and killed by an undetermined beast. A beast because of lack of butchering and manner bones were torn apart; undetermined because there were no tracks left; a huge beast because of the tooth marks on the bones.

  Looking far to north and south by telescope, Seedle was sure this part of the plateau was, or had been, traversed from Belmond Glacier to what they believed was Meinkutt continent. If by other than beasts, he did not know, but they all agreed it was being used.

  At the east edge of the plateau they came upon a rise which formed a lip all along the edge. On the other side was a rugged, uneven, but steady decline between a mile and a quarter or half down to the lapping shore of the Meinkutt Sea. Waddles sliding down would have a slow start, but would pick up speed and then go fast.

  One of the men declared, “This grade will not be delightful.”

  Toagun pointed off to one side of their perch, “Ah, gents, but look at that.”

  As if a giant hand had used a trowel, a somewhat curved, but smooth path a consistent ten to eleven feet in width traced from lip’s edge all the way to the waves.

  Seedle was scoping the run, and with a growing smile handed the telescope to Toagun as he said, “Men … we found the commodore.”

  He pointed to the end of the run as Toagun visually traced the path. Toagun then grinned as he saw a harpoon stuck into the ice at edge, billowing from the top like a flag was a red kerchief.

  The run looked to actually be a place where melting water from the top trickled into the sea. A shallow pool was at the head and dipping the fingers down revealed a thin layer of water. Walking down would not be easy, but using ice picks and taking careful steps Seedle, Toagun, Caroll, and Corad made the descent.

  There were a couple sharp dips in the run, but if a special tiller was rigged to drag the ice … Caroll determined a strong arm could maintain control of a boat. The ride would be a fast one, whatever the case. At the bottom, there was a twenty-foot-drop straight down.

  Each man looked to the other without speaking. Entrance into the sea would not be smooth. If the boat had enough speed, and weight was distributed correctly, it would fly for several feet
over the water and land flush … although most probably with harsh force. But if a miscalculation was made … it would not go well.

  A damp clump of seaweed was tied to the base of the harpoon. Off to the side were four other clumps which were in various stages of dryness.

  Seedle made the obvious note, “Well, he was here recently. It appears he is making check every few hours.”

  Corad asked, “Cob, do you think he is safe? I see no place he might camp, or warm himself upon emerging from the water.”

  “Sergeant, my guess is he is safer and warmer than we are.”

  Toagun added, “He made it through. That warm water current has pushed its way through. I bet the commodore is somehow resting in that current. As long as he stays in it, he will be warm. It’ll be climbing out what will freeze him without blankets.”

  Corad looked from Toagun to Seedle, questions on his mind, but it was not his place to ask. It was no secret Jha’Ley had an advantage below the waves, although exactly what, was known only to a very select few.

  One favored topic among the crew was whether their commodore had a magic apparatus, or was he part aquatic elf. He wore his hair covering his ears, but even so, if he had points of any kind they were very faint and no one was going to ask Commodore Jha’Ley to lift his hair. The consensus was he had a magic charm or something, but the topic was still fun to discuss.

  Seedle said, “Let us set watches and set his bundle here. We will have a fire laid and ready to put something warm into him.”

  Toagun added with a dry chuckle, “Unless he’s learned to make fire under water.”

  ___________________________

  It was early evening when Corad and his partner of the watch heard the splash of water. Turning, the sergeant was amazed to see his commodore flying up from the water twenty feet below, then land on the edge ten feet from the harpoon, stagger on the icy surface, then right himself.

  “Sergeant, quick, where is my wooby?”

  Corad was stone-faced as he made quick-time to wrap the commodore with the first of several blankets. Jha’Ley humorously saw the Ubank crewman mouth the words, ‘My wooby?’ as he lit the fire with pot resting above.

  Seedle wasted no time sending men down. He knew the commodore would be up the grade as soon as he took some hot tea, soup, and put on dry clothes.

  Jha’Ley was swollen in many places and seemed to be a little sluggish, but in grand spirits. The commodore shared his experience and they discussed possibilities of launching a rescue mission, but Jha’Ley wanted to wait. There was still work they could achieve and he was excited to map this unknown sea.

  Back at the ships, S’Getti was adamant Jha’Ley spend time aboard the Ubank and let his surgeon and masseur pull those little spines out of his hide, “Poseidon’s Beard, Jann Raul, you take no caution. Wherewith would your salvation lie, should rendering of more grave circumstance leave you within yon cavern’s depth?”

  “I keep telling you, Villiam, you would get a nice promotion.”

  “Oh shite! I wish not such promotion; only that you should give greater consideration to your well-being. Your men give heed to your example. The chief of your boat nigh took spill from yonder cliff, just to pass me wave of safety.”

  Jha’Ley laughed, “You mean Mister Seedle?”

  “Yes, Mister Seedle! Did your ears not grasp my notation? To show all-safe, the cob stepped upon possible calamity. His toe, Jann Raul … his toe … draped well of excess beyond slippery edge. Dahst I recant distance from water flat? And he gave not for fret …”

  “Oh … he is fine. He did not fall, did he?”

  “No, he did not. But, my friend, such is not the relevant point.”

  The banter went on as Jha’Ley laid upon table; spine after embedded spine withdrawn as he o-o-oched, ow-w-wed, and winced with each removal.

  At one point in their argument, S’Getti seemed to resign his position and with a sigh offered, “By incident, I have made wondrous discovery.”

  “What is that?”

  The captain said, “This extraction of cacti makes for wonderful antiseptic cleansing.”

  “Huh?”

  S’Getti splashed a stream of the clear liquor down the length of the commodore’s back and legs.

  “Ag-g-g-gh-h-h-h---hagh---hagh---hagh---hagh!”

  “So, my commodore … is it antiseptically working?”

  ___________________________

  As Jha’Ley endured removal of barbed spines, the vessels moved well with the wind. No more pockets, lagoons, or anything similar were found along the ice barricade. Sailing close to the northern Uordak Gulf shore, they estimated eight hundred and sixty miles of jagged coastline. For the most part, there was very little offering of vegetation other than a patch of tundra here and there, and a few scattered clumps of shrubs.

  In four locations the expedition found a small scattering of trees. Jha’Ley wrote in his log everything north of the gulf could be safely identified as the continent of Meinkutt.

  When they reached the cascading waterfalls, a rainbow was shining strong through the mist. The southern coast had not yet been mapped, but thus far everything indicated this point was the point of origin for the gulf. Several men, Jha’Ley included, looked to the heavens as if expecting another catastrophe.

  The ships tied up together and Jha’Ley crossed rails to hold conference with S’Getti. On his return, he called all senior personnel to his cabin. Seedle and Dessi were standing beside each other.

  “Gentlemen, we are going to continue sailing for purpose of map and discovery.”

  Dessi held one finger out on his lap.

  “Captain S’Getti will take charge while I lead an away-team up the falls.”

  Seedle held one finger out on his lap.

  “Sergeant Dessi will lead his Marines in the field …”

  Dessi held another finger out on his lap.

  “… with a split mix of teams from both ships.”

  Seedle held another finger on his lap.

  “When Captain S’Getti reaches Choe’s Cove, he will direct a criss-crossing of the gulf, which we thus far estimate to be fifty-odd miles at widest point, for as long as fits our schedule, in an attempt to chart the central body and see what islands there may be.”

  Seedle held a third finger on his lap, he was now smiling.

  “Captain S’Getti will continue exploration of the gulf according to his design, both ships to return here in eight weeks. Where upon I, team, and Marines should have returned.”

  Dessi held a third finger on his lap.

  When the meeting was over, it was understood Dessi would lead two four-man teams of Marines from each vessel. His second would be Sergeant Nei of the Ubank. They would act as support for Jha’Ley, Seedle, Toagun Sealer, and Rufus of the Clarise, and Ship’s Lieutenant Mantel, Coxswain Kord, Carpenter’s Mate Ottus, and Seaman First Class Boak of the Ubank. All totaled, twenty-six men well armed and supplied were trekking into territory of which no known written reports existed, and which many were now declaring as stuff of fables.

  Jha’Ley declared, “Every foot we set forward, is one foot further than we have on record. Should my calculations be correct, the Sea of Diustahn is about one hundred and fifty miles …” he pointed west, “… that way. I want to see it and get an artist’s verified depiction.”

  As the meeting broke up, Seedle got beside Dessi and held up his three fingers. Likewise, Dessi held up his three and asked, “No winner?”

  “No loser.”

  Both nodded to the other when Yeau came up behind them, cleared his throat, and held out a hand.

  Seedle and Dessi looked to each other, then to Yeau, then back to each other, and each took coins from their pouches and placed them into the chief quarter-master’s hand. Yeau raised his eyebrows in a thank you fashion and pocketed the silvers as the other two went to prepare for the away-mission.

  Dessi recorded in his log, Corporal Carlson approached him with request to be part of the assembled
unit.

  “Not this time, corporal. You will directly assist Sergeant Corad. We have outlined your assignment in detail.”

  “Gutty, I think---”

  “YOU were not GIVEN permission to think, CORPORAL!”

  They were on main-deck of the Ubank and suddenly they had the attention of everyone around them. Most were caught by surprise as Dessi rarely raised his voice, indeed, he did not need to. Quickly, the hands diverted their eyes back to work … at least most of them did. But let’s face it, watching or hearing a Marine get dressed down is more interesting than mundane chores.

  “If I want you to THINK … I will TELL you what to think!”

  Corad was on the scene instantly.

  “Sergeant Corad … Corporal Carlson has chosen to question a direct order under conditions of Code Three Alert. All considerations of pending promotion are hereby waved. Start him with ten sets of one hundred squat thrusts and three days guard of the main-mast …”

  Dessi eyed the now rigid Carlson with a squinting glare, “… followed by one week head duty …”

  It was obvious Dessi was contemplating something more, then he added with a hiss, “If you have a shiking suggestion, you speak with fact and furious intent. You do not THINK unless asked to do so … and do not EVER …” he got right up in Carlson’s face, “… EVER call me Gutty. I am Guttery Sergeant, Sergeant, or Sarge. Is … that … CLEAR?”

  “AYE Sergeant!”

  Seedle was on the Clarise’s rail with one foot up, chewing on a piece of straw. Beside him was their sailing master’s mate, mentally preparing himself to have full responsibility of sailing for the next several weeks. This would be a test for him.

  “Well, Mister Telroy, I do not think future Lance Corporal Carlson will make that mistake again.”

  “No sir, Mister Seedle, I do not think he will. Do you think Sergeant Dessi will truly demote him back to lance?”

  The cob looked to his young friend and replied, “Oh, Dessi is a good fellow and can turn a jolly with the best. But he is hard core Marine, and for good reason. Respect and honor are two words he lives by.”