Winds of Torsham (The Kohrinju Tai Saga Book 2)

by J P Nelson

  ___________________________

  The maiden voyage of the new Clarise lasted ten days. But first, in grand ceremony, Admiral Jann Raul Jha’Ley smashed the bottle of champagne against her in official christening. King Terrence was aboard with retainers, Sark was there, and Redding. The new ship was put through her paces and Jha’Ley commanded test firing of the Balders. Terrence was thrilled to experience the full compliment of what were called the Jha’Ley Maneuvers.

  Each meal saw admiral hosting king, much talking, and Jha’Ley being called upon to dwell on his adventures. He spoke heavily upon those who died in duty. Some of Rufus’s favored paintings were upon the captain’s quarter’s walls.

  The king remarked in his carefully worded conversation, “I would but that I could have met such men. It is most regrettable Captain S’Getti suffered attack to the heart so shortly after having completed voyage.”

  Jha’Ley was solemn, “Yes, your highness, it is most regrettable.”

  Off the sly, Jha’Ley noticed Sark giving him an accusing eye.

  Terrence suddenly raised his glass, “May I offer toast to Captain S’Getti, and to all those who were lost to Vedoa?”

  The admiral was caught off guard, “Yes, by all means.”

  The twelve year old monarch stood and delivered a lengthy toast of such dignity and honor, some of those seasoned men found lumps in their throats.

  After the toast, Jha’Ley was to make rounds with Dalton when Sark caught him alone for an instant.

  Sark muttered in casual tone, “Jann Raul, we both know Villiam did not die of a heart attack …”

  With innocence Jha’Ley answered, “But … I was there. I saw it transpire …” he shrugged, “… just as clear as you standing there.”

  “Uh-huh?!”

  Sark looked about, “Admiral?”

  “Yes admiral?”

  “Are you not going to miss this?”

  With a glowing smile Jha’Ley replied, “Every day, my friend, every day.”

  Upon return to Engeas, Jha’Ley performed his last naval act; that of promoting new Captain Dalton and saluting him as commander of the Vedoan Navy’s most currently advanced combat vessel.

  In the Salty Dog Pub, the old crew got together for a civilian dress get-together. Yeau was there, G’Tabb, Caroll, newly promoted Major Dessi, Seedle, who was being transferred to work directly with Redding, Redding, Telroy, Commodore Cynric … all officers and senior crew, and others as well, who had served with Jann Raul were there. There was singing, drinking, dancing … a festive good time.

  The next morning they each made solemn goodbyes and I-will-see-you-laters. Then, after twenty-four years of decorated service with the Vedoan Navy, Jha’Ley pushed off with his gifted craft, Waddles, and disappeared from the public eye for over two years.

  The next time he was seen it was in Lychiwal, where he sailed into port with a beautiful thirty-two foot cutter named, Abigail. There he showed G’Tabb a sack full of perfect sapphires.

  G’Tabb exclaimed in quiet fascination, “You are more rich than some kingdoms, bucko.”

  With his old friend aboard, they bypassed Vedoa and sailed for Foljur, there to spend time with a certain classy lady; then to Robinto, where they took holiday at the House of Albri. Caroll was there, and when the cutter left, it was to places uncertain with Captain Jha’Ley, G’Tabb and Caroll.

  A year later Jha’Ley, showed up with the Lohra Lai and spent the next couple years just sailing around. Oh, they worked cargo here and yonder, but mostly Jha’Ley was hand picking crew, which is where I entered the scene … with the Lohra Lai, I mean.

  People have asked me, ‘Where did he disappear to?’ I figure he has his own right to his privacy. Like me …

  Chapter 73

  WHEN ERNT AND me broke free from the Laughing Jil, and I finally made it into the Kohntia Mountains and away from Ahjokus’s eyes, I didn’t want anyone knowing where I was either, about four years of anyone not knowing.

  During that time I traipsed around quite a bit, learning a lot as I went. I don’t mean just skills, either. I learned some about myself.

  Sometimes I would sit and think. I had so-o-o much to think about; too much, really. Sometimes I would feel bad about myself, and other times I would get real mad and punch up trees.

  I can heal, so I guess I was just punishing myself … punishing by bringing the inside pain to the outside. I would break my bones, bust up my knuckles, and then I realized doing all that was plain stupid. I’m not saying it doesn’t slip out every now and again, but for the most part I quit breaking myself just to break myself.

  Why?

  Think about it. If you don’t get it, maybe you should go hit a tree … see how it feels. But I really suggest you learn how to do a magic heal, or have someone around who can do it for you, first.

  Walking around wasn’t all bad. Some was really nice. I’ve heard human males say tough guys don’t cry. Bull-hocket! I think I’m pretty tough, but if a little tear doesn’t swell up in you watching a baby duck run out from a thicket, and run across the water to catch its momma and family swimming across a lake … or a baby cub wiggle in its sleep because of a nightmare, and its momma reach over and hug it up … or just the way two squirrels nuzzle each other with love … then I think something is wrong with you.

  I’ve seen some really pretty things; rainbows where the end blends right into the forest, beautiful formations of ice where water falls from a hundred feet up, shapes of snowflakes on my hand, how the sun looks when it rises and sets from both sides of the mountain or a great lake, standing on top of one of those mountains and looking down into the clouds … you feel like you’re on top of the world.

  Yup, in those four years I walked the entire length of the Kohntia Mountains, from an overlook of the Meinkutt Sea in the north to the Argos Ocean in the south. Maybe one day I’ll talk about it all, maybe, who knows? Unless I keel over before finishing, there are several more volumes I have for putting to quill.

  To be honest, though, that first year was real hard. Once the dust had settled from my escape, I got to thinking about what I had done. I was free, sure, but I was a fugitive, an escaped slave who had sunk a trade ship, attacked a merchant caravan … and brutally killed some of the members, no less … which included some important merchants from Dahruban.

  Once again I sunk into a wallow of low thinking. I had failed everyone; my younger brother, L’Sol, was being raised by the worst kind of people and I was doing nothing … I was as bad as those elves who never came to find my momma. That thought really bummed me out. But what could I do? I was just one person, a half-breed at that. Even if I were successful in getting him away from a gazillion people in Gevard, where would we go, what would we do? There was no place I knew of that really accepted half-breeds. And what did I know about kids, anyhow?!

  I couldn’t go back to Kiubejhan, how could I look any of them in the eye … especially Riana? And as far as me getting revenge on Herrol and the House of Fel’Caden, what could I do there? Again, I was a failure. A good son would go make those bastards pay for what they did to my family.

  I could only hope my twin and older sister had fared better than me. I could only believe U’Lahna would turn her nose up in disgust knowing what kind of cowardly failure I was. Many times I thought about just jumping off a high ridge. North of the Pihpikow Road I found some bubbling tar pits. I came that close to jumping into the biggest one. With my luck, however, I figured it would only be waist deep and I would have to crawl out of that boiling mess.

  More than once I found myself sitting against a tree with my dagger point against my chest, both hands grasping the hilt, working up the nerve to yank it home. I’m still not really sure why I didn’t. I would gnash my teeth and ram the back of my head against the tree, sometimes crying in angst at failing to spike my heart. Then I would look into the heavens and curse the powers-that-be.

  A stormy night came, however, when I was sitting on the soggy ground, against a tree
with my dagger in hand, once more trying to work myself up to thrust it deep. In the distance I heard a crashing sound, then a bawling cry from something I had never heard before. Only a few moments later I heard several trumpeting sounds, only deeper and louder. I have to admit, it made me curious enough to want to wait to kill myself, at least, long enough to find out what was going on.

  Slinging my sword on my back, I ran through the woods with dagger in hand. I came to a sliding stop at the sight of a circle of huge, long-haired jum-beasts walking around a pit, their trunks in the air blasting their concerns to any who would hear. Jum-beasts seen at circuses are usually nine feet at the shoulder, but these were bigger.

  A couple of them were using their trunks to manipulate a fallen tree into the pit. Down below, a high-pitched squeal sounded to me like a calf had fallen down. Now, I know all about nature and how it takes its course, but looking at it carefully, even from where I was, I could tell this was no act of nature. Someone, at some point in time, dug that pit to catch whatever.

  I wasn’t thinking, which is a big problem I have, and those things are often eleven feet at the shoulder with tusks several feet long, and pointy-sharp … but for some reason that calf wasn’t able to get out, when it should have been able to use the deadfall as a ramp. I took a running start, then dropped and slid past the pachyderms and into the hole. As I scooted past their legs and over the lip of the pit, I realized I had no idea how deep the pit might be.

  It was a good twelve foot drop, which made me only briefly wonder what the hay the digger was trying to trap. Not that it really mattered at the moment. I hit the floor, which was littered with rotting debris which had been covering the fifteen foot square hole, and rolled … trying hard not to puncture myself on anything.

  Remember, I have been trying to kill myself.

  Indeed, there was a young calf lying on its side and bawling with pain and traumatic fear. It was moving its head and front legs, but I figured real quick its back was either broken or severely injured.

  Reaching out to the adults above me, which were now more frantic with me down there, I effected the ancient mind-speak method of communication with animals used by Druids, *S’Fahn Muir*, and said, [I am here to help.]

  Using the same effect, I sung in lullaby, rather than spoke to the infant. It seemed to help, but he was still terrified and in pain. The adults now sang as well, and if you have never heard jum-beasts sing, it is surreal, but beautiful … kind of like whale song.

  I put my hands on the little fellow … I say little, he was bigger than me … and focused all I had into my *Healing* effect. Its back came together, as well as one front and one rear leg. As it sprang up, I got behind and did my best to help it up that old tree the adults had placed. One adult grasped the little fellow’s trunk and pulled, then a couple others reached under and picked it up. Then to my surprise, one reached down and grabbed me as I came up the log, and very gently lifted me up, then set me down midst the group.

  One by one they touched me on the head while I stood there, a big stunned look on my face. Then they walked off into the storm. Me? I just stood there as the rain washed over me. The thought of suicide has never settled in my mind since; smash my fist into a tree, yes … yell and swear and scream, yes … tear someone apart limb-from-limb, yes … kill myself, no.

  It dawned on me if I hadn’t been there, that little fellow would be dead. Now, it might get killed in the next few days, months or years … but right then and there I had made a difference.

  Watching them leave I felt kind of glad, and then a couple of them looked back. Were they inviting me to join them? Yes … yes they were. Like an excited child I ran to collect my few belongings. For the next year I travelled as part of their herd.

  My thinking started to change a bit after that. By watching them I saw a lot of what my momma used to tell me about nature. I’ve heard many a person talk about how tolerant nature is. Not hardly! Those people have never lived with it. Walked in it, maybe, rode through or took a carriage ride in it, perhaps. Maybe spent a few nights out under the stars. But they haven’t lived with it, actually been one with it. Nature requires everything to do its part. You do your part or you die.

  It’s nothing like some of those beggars I used to see on Dahruban streets, sitting with a cup in their hand claiming how bad they have it, wanting handouts. You do that out in the woods or dessert, and the scavengers are going to sit and wait for you to quit breathing, maybe not that long. Lazy just doesn’t get it.

  Those jum-beasts really had it together, and they are smart, too, I mean really smart. Often when a challenge came up, they would work together as a team. And they liked to play, too. They could play tag, toss a chunk of wood at each other in their version of catch, and you would be surprised at how quietly they could move.

  Finally the time came for us to part. I wanted to see how far north I could go and they didn’t go into the mountains the way I wanted to travel. It was a pleasant departure. That little fellow and me had become real mates. I scratched his head and he tasseled mine, then we pressed heads together.

  While travelling with my new friends, I decided I had to quit dwelling on the past. You know, take one day at a time, that’s one thing I learned from the jum-beasts. I had heard once you should look to the past to learn, look to the future for hope and to plan, but life takes place in the day of which we trod.

  I also had to accept a few things as, ‘This is the way it is,’ and to do that I had to work my way backward.

  If I had had lots of opportunities to escape slavery before, but did not take them for whatever reason … so be it. I decided I wasn’t the person I was then.

  Deborah had been avenged, at least where Franko and his cronies were concerned. Would we have made it in an escape attempt? I don’t know. She had spent her whole life in slavery. Never had she shown a longing for the mountains or anything else. It may be that she would have been a major hindrance and got us caught. What we had wasn’t real love, but with me she had been treated nice her last couple of years. So I would let myself feel good about that.

  My closest chums … Ander, Izner, Dudley and Merle … they were alive. A lot of the fellows had died, but I had to understand that is war.

  Patriohr … I had actually succeeded with him. He was now the king. I did not know how at the time, but he was now the man.

  Riana ... she was Patriohr’s queen. I clearly did not have the story, but she had moved on. I could see her as queen. I resolved to go back one day and face them, for better or worse, but not just yet.

  As far as Hoscoe … that one hurt a lot, he had been the only father figure I had ever really known. But he had lived a long, full, and important life. He had lived far beyond a normal human’s life expectancy. He lost his son, but then imparted his knowledge to me. I guess I owed it to him to make the most of it I could.

  The word Gymitsachi resonated in my mind. Hoscoe had passed down to me … I needed to pass down to someone too, but who?

  Thinking about Hoscoe and his fatherly presence made me think of Roveir. He hadn’t been a father figure, but he had been a presence. Was he really my father? I let the idea settle for a few moments. It was a toss-up idea for me. One moment, or even a whole day I may think and even almost partly accept the idea … then the next I was sure it couldn’t be so.

  Suddenly a new idea flashed through my mind … had he really died, or had he been killed? Nothing about him and the last day, the one where we sat and threw rocks together, suggested sickness of any kind, or weakness.

  One afternoon I had been ambling along beside a crystal clear stream and began throwing rocks to skip the water. I hurled one in a certain way that Roveir taught me that last day, and it got me thinking about him.

  I sat down and pulled a piece of jerky and chewed on it, thinking about the possibility the old man had been maybe murdered. All kinds of thoughts and ideas ran through my mind. It was a new mystery for which I would probably never learn the answer, but suddenly I
was intrigued.

  As far as Lath was concerned … I had no clue. Humans live such short life-spans they tend not to remember much of anything, and there were no leads. Well, I could go find the one who sold her, but that meant going back to Dahruban, and it might be years before I could do that. Even if I did find him, and he did tell me, I would have to trace, and trace, and trace … she was probably lost to the world … and I had never really met her. We had locked eyes, never even spoke a word to each other … I told myself, ‘She was a whim of fantasy, drop it.’ But I couldn’t.

  L’Sol … yes, L’Sol … I came to terms that at least he was well fed, not growing up as a slave, and would have a running head start in life. This would be the worst of times to try to rescue someone who didn’t know they needed rescuing. I would have to think about that later. For now, at least he was safe.

  Herrol, on the other hand … House Fel’Caden must be laid to waste. Herrol and Lexin … they must die. If I could bring down the entire country of Gevard I would. Now that was taking on a big bite to chew. But it was a figment in my mind. My momma would be avenged; she would be avenged a thousand times.

  I had no idea how to find my twin, but U’Lahna … she had a name … or someone had the name. She was an elf, so she wasn’t likely to die of old age in the next few years. I would give it some time, then I would hunt and find her. What happened next would happen. I would have to accept whatever.

  It took me much of the year I lived among the jum-beasts to reach that state of mind, but I got there. And as I did my nightmares went away. They stayed gone for a long time; until I started that nonsense as a Sea Marshal and found myself at the top of Dellove Mountain. Four nights up there amid jungle, boar-eating savages with bones in their nose, cheeks and ears … and all to transport a box I to this day do not know what was inside … that started it.

  Meeting Lushandri toned those nightmares down a bit, and it was mighty nice being with her, but what about Lushandri? What were we to each other? We had scarcely met. Was it love? No, but there was definitely a major attraction there, and we had chemistry. But I was barely a full adult by elvin standards. In all honesty, she was my elder. But we surely had something special.