Call of the Wolf (The Kohrinju Tai Saga)

by Nelson, J P

  “Your promoter, Franko, the word is all over that he bet against you, which is against coliseum rules to begin with, but he bet everything. Karthanook was a property of a lady named Night Fawn, and she went under, too. But here’s the thing, Franko is in jail. They’re going to let him out if he sells what he has left to this man in Stafford, and then uses the money to cover his bets, fines, and leaves Dahruban. They’ll ship you and the big fellow, Ernt, by boat to the docks at Stafford. You two will fight at Child’s; I think they want to see you fight each other.

  “The word is, if Franko agrees, he’s going to ride that way himself, then sail for the Phabeon.”

  We stood there for a long time just looking at each other. It was hard to hate all humans when someone like this was around. I asked, but had a hunch I knew the answer,

  “Who is buying us, Kendle?”

  “I think, the word is, his name is Ulen.”

  “You mean Uven?”

  He thought a moment, and then said, “Yeah, that’s it, Uven. I understand he’s a pretty shady character.”

  “Yes,” I said, “He is.” I straightened up, and then slowly took his hand and forearm, so he wouldn’t be alarmed, and gave him a firm clasp, Thank you, Kendle. ‘And so it was that the beast of the mountain did set forth from his cage, and became the hunter once more …”

  He looked at me for a moment, tilted his head in thought, and then said, “I … I don’t think I’ve heard that one.”

  “You will, Kendle, you will.”

  ___________________________

  ‘So then,’ I thought as I walked back to my blanket. ‘Uven thinks to buy me, does he?’ Laying back with hands behind my head I began to plan. For the first time in years I felt confidence, I had an edge.

  Once my meal tender had left the night before, I had taken that handkerchief from under my blanket and gave it careful examination. It radiated strong magic, so when I opened it, I opened it carefully. Laying it down on a carefully scraped clean spot on my floor, and attuning my *Awareness* intently for anyone walking down the hall, I unfolded the silken material one fold at a time. Every time I unfolded it I could feel the magic stronger than before. What was in here?

  The original size of the material was a one and a half inch by three inch square. When I had unfolded it eight times, I had a six by three feet square of material that was still flat and smooth with one fold left to go. As I opened the final fold, it uncovered what to me was a wealth of treasure.

  Somehow, this six by six foot square of handkerchief material could engulf and hide anything it could naturally fold over and appear as just another piece of cloth. It didn’t begin to bulk up in thickness until I folded it down to a nine inch by eighteen inch rectangle. Whoa!

  Unfolding it once more I marveled at what was laying on one-half of the unfolded material. There was a brand new rucksack which was full, tied to it was a bedroll and ground sheet, and a sizable length of cord was wrapped around it. There was an outfit of clothing, a cloak and new canteen. What really caught my eye, though, was the belt. This belt was carefully coiled and was connected to a hatchet and a dagger.

  The dagger was old and well used, but the heft was perfect and as I held it, it felt as if it were made for my hand. The handle was some kind of bone with a slightly curved shape and it was definitely a full tang weapon with a blood groove down the center. The blade was seven inches long of the sharpest stuff I had ever seen, and it was a dark gray metal I had never seen before. It appeared to be a double edge blade with the bottom side sharp all the way to one half inch from the double brass guard, but only the front four inches of the top side was sharp. The sweetest part, however, was that it radiated a magic like that of So’Yeth itself, nothing like the sword I had taken from Phostein.

  When I started moving things around, underneath it all I found a well made long sword and sheath. It wasn’t fancy, but was far better than military grade, a thirty inch blade and forty-two inches over-all, nicely balanced with a hand-and-a-half grip and very sharp on both edges. To have a sword in my hand again, it was exhilarating.

  Who, I wanted to know, were those people who had gifted me with such things? Raph surely didn’t expect me to see him, and he apparently expected to be gone before I got back, therefore this gift was meant for me not to know who provided it. And then I noticed the note under the rucksack. It wasn’t sealed, and was folded rather than rolled, as was the custom of the times.

  The top writing was in a feminine hand and the characters were of archaic Lohngish: When I was hungry you gave to eat, I was forlorn and you gave me supplication, I had lost my way and you showed me the path to follow. Take these and hold fast. Make a difference. It wasn’t signed.

  ‘When I was hungry,’ I thought. Sure, I had given out a lot of food in my life, who did I show the path to? I was confused, but I had the gifts. Was Lahrcus right about believing in fate? And the message about making a difference, it sounded a lot like … like what … Hoscoe … used to say.

  Underneath the one hand writing, was another form of writing in Elvish, again, something different from the time, but this wasn’t archaic. The characters had a variation I had never seen before. This handwriting explained the dagger and a few of the other articles. The cord was slender and made from Oska Silk worms, meaning it was fire proof and as strong as a freighting ship’s hoisting ropes. The cloak wasn’t magical, but weather and wind proof, and the sword had been charmed against rust and acid … sweet.

  I couldn’t resist, getting up I walked to my door and put the dagger’s edge against the back side of one of the bars. Pushing down, the blade shaved a nice sliver from the bar without suggesting a mark, let alone dullness, to the dagger. I was very excited. Inspecting it closely I wondered, could this be Nihkros Mythril?

  I found it odd, though; I had been completely outfitted to head into the wilderness except there was no footgear. Not that I needed it, but it was a curious notion. Since Izner, no one had ever mentioned my boots that never wore out.

  Inside the rucksack was a spare tunic, several pounds of jerky, salt, ground corn meal, a sack of various gold and silver pieces, several other articles, and a sack of coffee. Somebody knew me and my tastes. I needed to find these people, and when the time was right, I would do just that. For the time being, though, the handkerchief was tucked safely away in my boot.

  Sure enough, some new people came to take Ernt and me to a two masted vessel down at the docks. Ernt only knew we had been sold and en route to Stafford. When we were placed in makeshift cells down below, our escorts removed our manacles and went topside.

  Ernt looked over at me and saw me grinning an evil grin. Slightly irritated he asked, “Why you smile?”

  I sat back on my cot, massaged my wrists, put my hands behind my head, and passed him a casual glance, “Because, my fine friend … the bars … they are made out of wood.”

  Chapter 56

  ________________________

  “BY THE WAY,” I asked Ernt, “can you swim?”

  We were both sitting on our cots after days of sailing, anticipating our big escape, and he looked at me and said, “Yah. Do not all?”

  It was my turn to look at him, “Uh … no, actually.” Swimming, I thought … ughhh.

  What we were about to do could go all kinds of ways, good and bad … for us, I mean. By asking questions and what not from the sailors who came down to check on us, I knew we were about a day’s sailing from Stafford, which put us way ahead of Franko and the group of merchants Kendle told me he was traveling with. I had been sloppy and arrogant with Sormiske, this time I was going to plan better. But before I left this region, me and Franco were going to have a discussion. I owed it to Debohra, and to myself. I was done living with guilt; there were enough eyes of dying people in my dreams for me to see.

  This vessel, named the Laughing Jil, was small and rigged for shallow sailing, and along with my reaching down to *Detect* for the land below, I was thankful we weren’t in very deep water at all. The
problem was; it doesn’t need to be very deep to drown. I was going to have to get some drift to hang onto, or learn to swim in a real hurry. Strangely enough, I had learned most sailors can’t swim, either. I would have thought sailors would be great swimmers. But they’re too afraid of sea monsters and the like to want to get in the water in the first place.

  Sea monsters; that gave me a last minute idea.

  The Jil was slow, but still faster than common land travel, and Dahruban was several days from Stafford by land. Timing our host’s appearance in the hold, I had taken the dagger and belt from my cloth and secured it in place around my waist. Ernt watched in creased brow amazement, but uttered not a word. There would be no room for swordplay down below, and figuring the long blade would only be an encumbrance in the water, I left it in the cloth.

  It was nighttime and I knew the sky was overcast, this was going to be fun, and I do mean fun in a sarcastic kind of way. Ernt and I grasped forearms for luck, and then I grabbed two of the wooden bars between our cells. Focusing, I caused them to *Rot*, after which we broke them apart. First phase completed.

  He stepped into my cell and I did the same thing to six more bars … we were going to need room to move in a moment, I hoped. After clearing a big hole among the cell bars, Ernt got himself into position behind me, hands on my belt, and I turned to face the wall of my cell, which was the hull of the ship.

  “Okay,” I said, “here goes.” I placed my hands against the hull, reached down into So’Yeth through the water, which I had been practicing, and prepared to push the rot effect into the hull in mass, fast. When that hull cracked we would be in trouble, and I would be counting on Ernt and his superior strength to yank us back and out of the way before the timbers crushed into me. This was definitely a teamwork thing. I was hoping for Ernt to get us safely to the other side of the hull in quick order.

  “On three,” I said. Of course, he couldn’t do anything until I did, but it was something for me to say. “Three … two … one …” And then I pressed the essence of *Rot* into the wood as far and as fast as I could, with all that I had if necessary. For a moment there I didn’t think it was going to work. I could feel essence rush through me, but nothing seemed to happen. Then we heard this awful groaning and the wood in front of me suddenly folded in.

  I tried to yell at Ernt, but the noise was too loud for him to hear me. He saw the leaks just before an area of hull about ten feet in diameter gave way, and he yanked so hard I thought he pulled me in half. The water hit us and helped us along, but he got us across the centerline and around to the side at an angle to keep us from taking the brunt of force. It only took a moment for the ship to start tilting and crewmen were rushing down to see what had happened.

  The integrity of the whole ship started to give way as she began to sink, and Ernt and I were fighting to get to the top. We had to battle our way past three mates and yells went out that we were escaping. I had to put my dagger into play, and marveled at how easily it cut. I wasn’t blood-lusting, I just wanted out. On top, more of the small crew were concerned about the damage below than our escape, but there were those whose job it was to get us to Stafford. Remember, we were valuable cargo.

  Ernt grabbed a belaying pin, essentially a two foot long stick, and rammed two of the guards while I slit and slashed at two more. Someone aimed a crossbow, and as he fired it I felt the embrace of power and was able to *Slow* things down, from my perspective, anyway, which meant to everyone else I suddenly sped up. As the bolt came across me toward Ernt, I was able to force my own actions to catch the shaft. Before the shooter could regain his composure I had jumped onto a rope, swung to his position, land on my feet and spin into a slash that sent him on his way.

  Ernt threw a screaming sailor over the rail and I yelled at him, “Let’s go!”

  We jumped over, I took a huge gulp of air, and then I attempted to *Summon* something from below to help.

  Can you say catfish? Can you say frigging fourteen to fifteen foot long catfish? When I hit the water I went down a good ways. The side we jumped from was the side going up, and when the water surrounded me I went just this side of panic. It was the first time I had been under water, and when I opened my eyes I thought it was over. This huge fish rose from the murk and the only reason I saw it was because I see heat in the darkness. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t a huge, whisker-face looking creature that looked like it could swallow me whole and look for more.

  But its mind, such as it was, was opened to me and I realized this monster was just a giant fish. Mon’Gouchett, but what a fish; no wonder sailors don’t go into the water. I could see Ernt in the water deeper than me about eleven rods away and directed the fish to go that way. Ernt was moving up well, but when he saw the shape he almost lost it himself. At first he thought the fish had me in its mouth, but as we went past I grabbed him and we were off to shore. I learned later that he could see heat in the dark, too, not as far as I could, but he could do it.

  It wasn’t easy trying to get my fish friend to go against instinct and get us above water level. The critter didn’t comprehend inability to breathe water, but it broke surface twice allowing us to get a breath of air. But then I just couldn’t do it anymore and let go. I didn’t release it from helping me, because I didn’t want it suddenly thinking of us as a good meal. But when I let go I found myself thrashing, and then Ernt grabbed me by the back of the collar and he brought us the next hundred or so rods to the shore.

  Ernt whomped me once on the top of the head, I was panicked that bad. But I got the idea and went limp and trusted him to do his thing. Right then I resolved myself to learn how to swim. When, I didn’t know, but someday.

  We didn’t land on a beach, or even a gentle slope. It was steep, but grabbing handfuls of grasses and weeds we pulled ourselves up to a flat spot and we lay there sopping wet, tired, and cold … but we were free.

  ___________________________

  Ernt and I had eaten well and regularly on the ship, nor had we been stinted on water. And since we had timed our escape based on meals and what not, we weren’t anywhere close to hungry and well hydrated. So, other than me wanting my sword, there was not a real urgency to get my cloth open for gear, which was a good thing. There was no good place to open up a six foot square hanky, and I didn’t know if getting it wet would be bad. Inside my boot pocket, it was nice and dry.

  After we rested briefly, we finished climbing to the top of the slope and found ourselves amidst rolling hills, trees, and what have you. The Pihpikow Road could be just right over that rise, or it could be as much as several day’s hike from the seaside. Dawn was upon us and I was shivering from the cold. Yes, I like the cold, but I like to be dry and properly clothed. Ernt, I just looked at Ernt, he wasn’t fazed by the cold at all.

  It was then the waft of baking bread hit me. Well, maybe I was hungry after all. “Hey, Ernt. Want some breakfast?”

  Ernt grinned, he smelled it too.

  A half mile away we found the remains of what must have been a trading post. It was built from rock and there were two buildings still standing. They looked to have been for the most part abandoned and forgotten, but right at the moment I counted a dozen saddle horses in the corral and smoke was coming up from the chimney. A touch of sneaking around showed them to be brigands, highwaymen in hideout.

  Inside the stable I *Blended* myself in, and searched the place. Yup, I found two light crossbows, not up to the standard of the LCB, but they were loaded and cocked and conveniently placed for emergencies. Beside each were a couple of quivers of bolts.

  While I was in there, a scruffy dressed man came in and walked right past me standing in a nook. Blending is nowhere near the same as invisibility, but if the blended person remains still and picks their location intelligently … you would be surprised at how little humans actually are aware of their surroundings. As he walked past the second time, I reached out my arm and wrapped it around his throat. In a couple of moments he was fast asleep. T
his time, I didn’t kill.

  Frisking the bandit I found a couple of hideout knives and I took his sword, which I gave to Ernt along with a crossbow and quiver.

  Nonchalantly we went up to the door and I knocked. It was funny how quickly those rascals scampered. I *Detected* movement through the flooring, and counted five moving bodies. Of course there could be more still laying in. One reason brigands are brigands, is because they’re generally flat out lazy. They seem to think stealing is easier than real work, but I’ve never known a brigand who had much or who was living a good life. Brigands often work harder to not have to do anything than they would to earn an honest living, they generally have to live on the run, and … well, you get my point, don’t you?

  When I knocked again I heard a gruff and startled voice, “Who’s out there? What do you want?”

  “Just a couple of pilgrims in search of a good meal.”

  “We don’t got nuthin’ for you.

  Eleven years of practicing the trace of movements of mice, rats, and other little creatures across floors with my eyes closed helped me pinpoint the positions of all five, including the one who was trying to tiptoe across old boarded floors to where a weapon must be.

  The door swung inward, so I lifted the latch, pushed inward quickly and back just as fast. Three thunks hit the door as someone was trying to time my stepping inside with the swing of the door. Shoving the door hard, I saw one man in front trying to reload a crossbow and I just helped him load one in the mid-riff. Dropping the weapon I went in with a roll as Ernt stepped in and shot another. Taking them out was child’s play, compared to what we had been doing in the coliseum.

  As we looked around we figured a decent inventory of miscellaneous stuff. All said and done, there was plenty for Ernt to chose from to give himself a good outfit, and I picked out a few odds and ends to round my own self a bit. Two of these fellows liked throwing knives, and I just helped myself. I didn’t think they would mind.