Call of the Wolf (The Kohrinju Tai Saga)

by Nelson, J P

  As I pressed I came at him with every movement I could muster and then I made up some more. My leaps were tremendous and twice I vaulted over his head to strike downward midst an aerial roll. He tried a counter maneuver and I sprang out of his way with a cartwheel and a one-handed back-spring in the opposite direction. Leaping from a center post I almost speared him through the torso … shit … by Hades Fire, I growled … so close.

  Faster, I thought, more speed. He was just a human … I thought I heard the sound of ceramic crash and saw his left hand was moving free as he fought me with all of his experience and skill. I leaped into an aerial spin and switched hand-grips to fight him left-hand style and almost sliced his neck … but not quite. Faster-press-press-faster- and then I switched to a two-hand style. I could smell the metal burning as we went full tilt.

  Was he speaking? The human was yelling, baiting me, “More! More! Fight, damn you! FIGHT!”

  All of it, I thought. All of the power, I pushed to the brink of my own snarling strength and felt him retreat. I was pushing Hoscoe across the floor!

  The opening I had sought was there … I took it … I laid my blade against the human’s belly and sliced hard. I SCORED!

  I had scored on HOSCOE! Elation washed through me as for a split instant I forgot everything and relished the moment …

  Smack-slap-whack-slip-flip-slam- … my blade went flying into the air and I hit the floor hard on my back, knocking the breath out of me. Standing above me, a sweat soaked and hair matted Hoscoe pointed his sword into my throat and I felt a trickle of blood running down my neck.

  He was breathing a ragged breath and was white as a fresh washed sheet. His breath seemed to come with pain, and as he bent over me with one hand on his leg for support, he said in torn words, “The fight …is never … NEVER … over … until … your opponent … is down!”

  With-drawing his blade from my throat, he straightened up and staggered back. Before I could get up, I watched in horror while he turned, took two steps, and grabbing his chest and gasping for breath, Hoscoe dropped his sword and spun around as he collapsed upon the sawdust floor and began to convulse.

  Chapter 41

  ________________________

  IN A FRACTION of a second I was beside Hoscoe and saw he was turning blue. In a blind panic, I stifled back emotion and focused hard. Right now he needed me and I must concentrate. I saw his tunic had sliced open across his torso, and fearfully I checked to see if I had damaged his vitals.

  The leather protective under-pad we wore had been cut all the way across, but not all the way through. I subconsciously breathed thanks that our practice sword edges were not sharpened. Always I healed myself, so I had taken no interest in real medicine and was now at a loss. I didn’t know what to do. Never had I lended my energy into anyone without knowing what I was trying to heal, and never anything like this.

  There was no time to think, I had to do something, make a decision straightway. Searching within myself, and seeking into So’Yeth, I tried to find some little more, something I hadn’t spent in the fighting; something I could save Hoscoe with.

  How long since had he stopped breathing; only a matter of seconds, for sure. I placed my left hand under the lapel of his tunic and over his heart. It scared me to find his skin to be cold and clammy. I found the last vestiges of my own fire, harnessed it, and breathing in deeply I exhaled and began to *Push*, a slow, long and deep steady stream of healing essence.

  Over the course of time and practice, I had learned it took much more energy to apply the healing effect on someone else … I guess in part because I had to reach outside of my physical form. And here I was, almost depleted to begin with. It gave me grave concern I might not have enough left to help Hoscoe. What was worse, I didn’t know what I was trying to heal, somehow I had to find it.

  Still emotionally charged from our fight, and now driven by necessity to save my mentor’s life, I found myself pressing my energy deeper than ever before … it felt as if my own mind had suddenly merged with my essence and I was flowing into Hoscoe’s body. I could actually see under the muscles and it was like I was compressed and surrounded by his inner workings. ‘Swimming,’ I thought, it was as if I had become a small thing of mist and was sort of swimming in between the muscles and organs.

  I had learned some butchering when helping Ames, years ago, and I had seen a couple of men who had been opened up in battle, so I had some idea of anatomy. So dark inside, but I could see by the glow of my own energy, and by what was left of his. He was growing cold, fast, and some of his insides were still moving, kind of contracting-like.

  I found what I was sure, was hoping dearly was his heart. It was so big compared to my own size within him. I embraced misty fingers around it as if reaching around the medicine ball he had me train with … and *Pushed* my energy into it with a pulsing effect. It pumped … once, but no more. Scared, but trying so hard to focus, I *Pulsed* my energy into it again.

  Again it pumped, violently so I could actually feel a backlash that hurt. Again it pumped, raggedly and then it took up strength. All around me I felt the body almost jump. I focused warmth into Hoscoe’s heart as it thrashed against my essence form. His breath was loud like a roar against my hearing, and as he began again to breathe it was in a ragged struggle. I reached around his lungs like a pair of flour sacks, and tried to breath with him, to steady his rhythm.

  I refused to let go, not until I felt my own insides begin to grow cold. My physical hand lost strength and slipped away from his chest, as it seemed I was torn from within him and was suddenly back inside my own body.

  Sitting down hard on the dirt, a violent chill ran through my body, yet I was satisfied. Someone close to me had been at the threshold of death, and I was able to do something about it. For the instant, it wasn’t important that it was me who had pushed him to that point. I marveled over what I had just done.

  Outside lightning flashed and a few seconds later thunder split the air. Was that rain? Something hard was falling and resounding from the roof. Hadn’t I known that already?

  I had to get Hoscoe to his quarters, and a blanket for myself. Hoscoe was trying to sit up and was looking around, somewhat disoriented, but his face was full of his natural color. I smiled, pleased, but also alarmed at myself. I had almost … “Hoscoe, stay there. Don’t get up. I’m going to help you.”

  As I struggled to rise up, myself, I felt wasted, far beyond anything I had felt before; even more than the time my head had been cracked open. But strangely, I also felt clean, satisfied. There was much Hoscoe and I needed to talk about here. As I swayed on my feet, another violent chill swept through me. How was I going to help him when I was like this?

  Again came the lightning, followed by the crashing of thunder. There was a hard pounding at the training hall door, and I could hear Izner yelling, “Timber Wolf, Master Hoscoe?! Are you still in there?!” I wrapped in a heavy blanket and made quickly for the bar on the front door which kept our sessions private. My thoughts went to Ander, who was walking the city walls tonight, and Dudley, who had made sergeant for the third time and was out on patrol. They were out in this.

  The door was still pounding and Ize yelling, and then Merle, but I couldn’t raise my own voice loud enough to let them know I was coming. I got the bar up and they pushed in from a torrent of freezing rain and sleet. Wearing oiled down slickers, the two of them were carrying bundles under their arms.

  Izner looked around, saw Hoscoe on the floor and me shivering and asked, “Hey what’s going on? Are you fellows alright?”

  Hoscoe managed to sit up, albeit weakly, and much to my pleasure answered in a strong, but tired sounding voice, “Yes, young sir; nothing some rest, good food and perhaps a hot jolt of that cactus liquor laced with honey cannot cure.” Looking at me, he breathed in and added, “We have, the both of us, pushed ourselves beyond our limits, I believe. But it’s been good.” He smiled, a strong and good-natured smile.

  The lightning flashed again, l
aced within was an unnatural purplish hue. Merle said, “It’s been doin’ that for an hour.”

  I looked over at Hoscoe, and he caught my eye as the deafening sound of thunder rolled. Hoscoe looked over to Merle and asked, “Would you mind if I ask you to assist me to my quarters? I am completely done in.”

  The bundles that they were carrying were heavy cloaks and slickers. There was no lull to catch, so Merle respectfully, but rather obviously, practically carried Hoscoe out the door in a hurry to our barracks. Just before Ize and I made the run for it, I saw Hoscoe’s mug. It was laying against the wall in several pieces. Picking them up, I put them inside my blanket against my tunic.

  Izner and Merle were quartered in the same room, and in the second level of the same building as Hoscoe and I. So that was good. It was really cool they thought of us, but we were a tight-knit group. Ize knew we were going to be in there, and that old stable was built snug and sturdy. A storm could be upon you without knowing, and this was proof.

  Hoscoe had us all into his quarters, and it was the first time Ize or Merle had been in there. Careful not to touch anything, they stared all about the place. Hoscoe lived what he was, a high-ranking military official; retired from Dahruban, sure, but it permeated him through and through.

  The place was immaculate. No dust could be found, his clothing in perfect order and everything in its place. They had never seen a chessboard before, and a game was set up on his table where we were still in progress.

  Hoscoe was moving around a bit better than I was, and he put the makings together for coffee. He explained to the fellows, “That stuff they serve in Malone, is for the weak. A good coffee should be black as sin and strong enough to dissolve your spoon.”

  I saw him reach where his mug was customarily kept, out of habit I’m sure, then visibly corrected himself.

  Merle and Izner just looked at each other with an, is he serious, expression. The short of the matter is, they got their first taste of coffee; a drink considered to be the nectar of scholars, and not exactly a commoner’s beverage.

  Hoscoe said nothing of the maps, but he let them ogle over them. He told a couple of stories and made a few jokes, and the fellows got to see him from a different perspective from the Sword Master side. He had some food stuffs and we had our evening meal in his quarters.

  When time came for Izner and Merle to leave, Hoscoe said thank you, and they left feeling very good. Hey, they had been allowed to break bread with the Master Teacher of the Blade. That was a big thing.

  After they left, he went to refill his coffee. He seemed to look for his mug, again, but reconsidered. Sitting down across from me we were both quiet for some time, hey, we were both totally exhausted. When I started to open my mouth, he seemed to know I was going to talk about our fight, and my, well, my everything. But he held up his hand and gently shook his head.

  “Every since I first saw you, I knew there was something different. I saw it in the way you worked, the way you ate your meals, in the fight with Stagus. There is a very primal force within you; something which has all but died away among your people. Many of the elves believe Kn’Yang was the last.” He smiled, a knowing secret information type smile, and then said, “I believe you have the makings of what they called the Gahjurahnge, what men called a Ranger.

  “I believe that primal energy manifested itself within you tonight. It’s been building for some time. But you had to let it out on your own. You have opened a doorway, now let us not shut it.”

  “But … I almost, I almost …”

  “No. You did not.” He was very stern, gentle, but stern, “What happened was a force of nature, a very particular force of nature, at that. What you must do is learn to harness it. Not fight with it, not actually control it. But rather, control your use of it.

  “Besides,” he grinned, “I rather enjoyed it.” He took a sip as I stared at him unbelievingly. “I have not been challenged to the brink of my own abilities in a long, long time. You are the first to make that score on me, ever. Practice or no, I am proud of you.”

  There was another period of silence, in which we just sat across from each other and drank hot coffee as black as sin. Mine, of course, had sweetening in it. And then I asked, “May I ask a question?”

  Amused, he thought about it. I must remember, he was always the teacher. And then he replied, “I will answer one question. And then, as early as it is, I believe it is time to turn in.”

  “How old are you?”

  That was not a question he was expecting.

  ___________________________

  It only took one good night’s sleep to get enough rest to be able to heal myself of a common illness. Trouble was, it took me three nights to get enough rest to be able to do it this time. I had really drained myself. Another lesson learned; the more I channeled my so-called power, the more it tired me out, and the longer it took to regain the energy.

  You hear about folks with some kind of power, and oh, look what all they can do with it. But it isn’t all that easy. I had learned, in my case anyway, my own was generated in part by my physical condition, how much rest I got, how well nourished I was, and where I was standing and on what.

  While I had learned I could use my power to do different things, there was lots of stuff I couldn’t affect. For instance; I could affect wood, plants, hides, leather, and was learning I could even affect the ground … a little … and some kinds of stone. But so far, I couldn’t do squat with metal, except make it hot … up to a point.

  Once I was able to heal up, I took Hoscoe’s mug and tried to see if I could put it back together. Guess what? I was able to hold two pieces together at a time, and make them kind’a *Mend* back together, but it wasn’t easy. I think it was because the ceramic was processed, or something like that, passed its natural state but not too far. That might not be right, but it sounded good at the moment. Once I had fixed the mug, I knew it had taken a lot out of me, more than trying to heal someone else, even which was one of the hardest things for me to do. But, it was fixed, and I was happy.

  The freak storm had covered everything with ice, so for the next two days there were no sword classes. When they were continued, Hoscoe held them inside the training hall. Watching him move, let alone teach, gave me a whole new perspective. And then there was our match.

  Hoscoe was nearly one hundred and fourteen years old, almost unheard of in that day and time. It wasn’t like he was of one of the two known long-lived human groups; some of the Gevardians had lived to be one hundred and twenty to thirty years of age, and the Nakoai averaged one hundred and seventy to eighty years of age.

  He said his life span was largely in part due to a clean lifestyle, and practice of elvin exercises he had learned from Th’Khai. Still, I found him to be amazing. No wonder he had done so many things. When he had come to the territory in search of the Eye of Anu-Rah, he had been in his thirties; it explained perfectly why Chitivias didn’t know him.

  But there was something else, something I had always put off thinking about. Hoscoe was much older than was normal, but it wasn’t due to magical means; he was just healthy. Still, he was getting old and I didn’t want to lose him. He was much more than a friend and mentor. How to say it? It was a word I had never uttered. Hoscoe was, in my mind, something like a … a father.

  I now understood what he meant when he asked if I could lay him down, and I didn’t know if I could. I started to be very aware of him. His words of not knowing how much time we would have, also took on new meaning.

  On Ehnday evening we got together in his quarters to play chess. I went to prepare the coffee and when time came I fixed him a cup. Watching him for so long, I knew how he liked his coffee, but he always made his own mug. I said, “You like it straight black, don’t you?”

  He said, “Yes, but it is alright, I’ll ma-” he faltered as he saw I was handing him his own mug. Hoscoe hesitated and I thought I saw emotion in his eyes, and he chewed the side of his jaw. Accepting the mug, he smiled and said,
“Thank you.” He ground his teeth, took a good sip, and added, “This thing and I go way back. I picked it up for a copper pence in a hamlet outside of Costien. I must have been, oh, twenty-three or four. But I have carried it ever since.”

  Memories seem to flood his mind, and then he abruptly turned and asked, “Chess?”

  The evening was pleasant and Sabboday as well. Sabboday eve was spent with Riana, and when we kissed? Well, perhaps that is a story for another time.

  ___________________________

  The next few weeks saw more strange weather, and that in turn spawned new talk about Meidra. Was the Witch Queen returning? What about Xiahstoi? And then came the messenger from Siago Village. The whole place had been wiped out by cognobins, led by a human. The rider believed he was the only one to escape.

  This brought a new wave of talk, as Siago was only slightly farther out than had been Biunang Village. Immediately two small forces were gathered and sent out under commands of Field Major Eppard and Lieutenant Commander Orance.

  Hoscoe said depending on the country, any one of four different lines of command were used. Chitivias had opted to use the ancient system used by Shudoquar of Lieutenant, Senior Lieutenant, Field Captain, Field Major, Lieutenant Commander, and Commander. In Shudoquar, there were six different Commanders and one Commander of the Army.

  Patrols for the city were upped by three times and the wall watch was multiplied as well. Hoscoe didn’t agree with the king’s strategy, “But I am just a teacher,” he fumed. “He will not listen. The city is not in peril, not yet. We must needs find the source of entry and quash it. He is scared of these cognobins. They are not the enemy, they are tools of the enemy.

  “Give me a regiment, and I’ll go find the problem. By Cherron’s Beard, give me a battalion with three, even two good companies …” Hoscoe ranted. “This man is no general. He can fight yes, but he has become a politician. He could bring people together, and he has fought battles. But those were individual engagements. He is looking at a war, here, a campaign war. He is moving as if he is performing a police action.” These were things which could have gotten him in a lot of trouble, but we only spoke among ourselves.