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TITLE: The Heart of the Caveat Whale, Book One: The Captives By S J R Smith 11/04/06 |
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Chapter One: The Recruits
The wide white sandy beaches of Pershtel Reshva were clear of any signs of men or women when Qoshonni stepped to the shore and pushed the short dreadlocks of her coarse, black hair from her face with her webbed fingers and scanned the horizon. Her sister had been very specific, even over the sound of her nephew’s demands for her attention, of which plants to look for.
“The plant is phormium tenax,” her sister said. “Qoshonni, are you paying attention?”
“Phormium tenax,” Qoshonni repeated. “I heard you.” She was enthralled at the sight of her nephew blowing bubbles through the water and giggling with delight, and couldn’t take her eyes off him. His naming ceremony would be in a month, the fifteenth month of an aquaviling, and she was determined to be back to the reefs of the Reshuvin clan before then so that she could pronounce one of the blessings over his life. She was honored by the request to speak such a blessing, since she was only three lines, and so had only left the aquaviling years behind several months beforehand in the rather subdued ceremony that her family held for her. Most aquavians had to wait until there aquaviling years were seven years behind them before they would be allowed to speak a blessing at the naming of an aquaviling, and her sister might as well have made a new current through their subterranean city as to have made this exception for her, but it was done for Qoshonni none the less.
“You and your mother have taught your sister well, Qoyeshna,” the elders had told her sister, “and she has forged her own relationship with Elenonia instead of relying on yours. But let it be known that this is an exceptional circumstance…”
“Do you remember what phormium tenax looks like?” Qoyeshna asked, trying to draw Qoshonni’s attention away from the young aquaviling. She had been nervous about asking her sister to take this trip, but she knew that she could not leave her son for that long before his naming ceremony. Yet once she had this plant from the dry land, she would be able to complete her experiment and attain the teaching post at Reshuvia’s first, and brand new, academy of science without putting strain on her new family. “The spikes start –”
“– in the ground, I know,” Qoshonni finished. She kissed the forehead of her nephew and rubbed the smooth webbing between his fingers. It would be six years before a first line would show, and the reddish-pink of the webbing still contrasted the rest of his swarthy skin. “I will make sure to take the roots from beneath the soil.”
“You will have to dig deep,” Qoyeshna reminded her.
“Don’t I always?” Qoshonni said with a smile. She kissed her sister’s cheek.
“Make sure you are back for his naming ceremony.”
“Don’t I swim faster than any other daughter of the sea in our family?”
“I can still beat you if put to the test,” Qoyeshna chided with a laugh.
“You could when you lose all that aquaviling fat,” Qoshonni replied quickly, and had to swim away from her sister’s playful swat.
“Make sure to be… just come back as quick as you can. Don’t linger on land.”
“We’ve been to Pershtel Reshva before, Qoyeshna, why are you so worried this time?”
“Just…”
“I will be back before you know it.” Qoshonni took her nephew in her arms and threw him up through the water, catching him again as he sank back down and giggled as wildly as a baby seal. “And you,” she whispered in her nephew’s ear as she held him close, “I will bless you as you deserve to be blessed as soon as I return. I am sure Elenonia will give me the perfect words with which to bless your life. You are the pearl of my eyes, and the most joyful being I have ever met. May that joy never leave you, my dear, little friend.”
“We told you what we will be naming him, did we not?” Qoyeshna asked.
Qoshonni nodded and released him into the water to swim on his own. “And I am glad you did too. I find it silly that all these aquavians are suddenly taken with this superstition that you can’t tell the aquaviling’s name before the naming ceremony.”
“But do you think he will be alright?” Qoyeshna asked her. “I mean…”
“I think Shunda will fair better than the rest of us,” Qoshonni replied. “Do what you taught me to do – trust Elenonia.”
So why am I suddenly wavering in my trust? she asked herself as she crossed the sands of the beach and headed toward the first line of foliage in search of the plants her sister had requested. They had visited that stretch of dry land before, and had even encountered some of the more friendly men and women there, since their clan had a long standing relationship with those of Pershtel Reshva. They didn’t look much different from those dry-land dwellers, aside from the webbing that aquavians had between their fingers and toes, and the gills on the ribs under the aquavians’ arms. Men still had one less rib, just like the sons of the sea, she thought to herself, trying to force a smile as she scanned the beach once more with her eyes.
As the sand gave way to dirt and the foliage grew thicker, she knelt down at a patch of the desired plant and began to carefully dig out the roots. Her feeling of apprehension grew; she decided to find a pod of caveat whales as soon as she returned to the sea. She reminded herself of the old aquavian saying: the heart of a caveat whale is a worthy emulation. She would find safety and protection in their pods. Not, she concluded, that I couldn’t defend myself, but there is safety in the company of those who would give their lives for you.
Yet her apprehension puzzled her. She loved the companionship of the men and women when she was younger, but rumors were persisting in the seas that all wasn’t as it once was. No one ever gave a direct answer to her about it, but it was known all around that it wasn’t as safe for a son or daughter of the sea to travel far on their own as it use to be. There were rumors, whispered at the edges of the coral reefs, of disappearances, and while there were always those rumors among aquavilings, these were whispered by aquavians of five lines or more. She tried to think lighter thoughts, less frightening thoughts, as she finished digging out the roots, but pain surged through her head and all went black. She remembered no more until she awoke, feeling her head aching, and unable to move for the netting that wrapped tightly around her.
Her hands were tied, and someone began to drag her through the jungle. She tried her best to remain calm, and discern her circumstances before she gave any hint of a struggle. It looked as if she had already been dragged several miles through the jungle. She could no longer smell the salty air or the pods of brown algae. The sounds of the sea birds gave way to parakeets, toucans and fruit doves. The roots of coconut palms scraped her back and arms as she was dragged over them. And over the voices of the men who were dragging her she heard others, a whole village, it seemed, in the distance. It took her a few minutes to remember the language of these men.
“Are you sure they will stop attacking our shores and dragging our children to the sea if we give them aquavians?” one of the men asked another.
“Makto lost both his sons and his eldest daughter three days ago,” the other replied forcefully. “We can’t allow this to continue. If this is the price they demand, then I say the price is small. We have nine aquavians so far. I know they said twenty, but they may stop their raids as soon as they see that we’re beginning to making good on our bargain.”
“I don’t see how this will insure our safety,” the first replied. “The mermen may leave us alone, yes, but what about the aquavians once they know we’ve stolen their brothers and sisters to sell for our peace?”
“When have you ever heard of aquavians being anything but peaceful?” the second asked.
“Well, never… but…”
“Give ’em ten years, they’ll understand, they’ll forgive us. I mean, I had eight children of my own, eight! and now I only have five. And all they were doing was playing…”
Her head throbbed as she strained to hear them, and to comprehend the sadness that enveloped this people. But did that justify what they were about to do? She would miss the naming ceremony. She had to get back to Reshuvia for the naming ceremony. As she was dragged along, a rock hit against the spot on her head that hurt the most. She tried her best to stifle her cry. Everything was going black once more, for she could not keep consciousness while warding off the screams that tried to rise against her pain. She ran her fingers along the belt of pearls that she, and every aquavian, had about their waist. They left it on her. She sighed with relief as she sank out of consciousness.
“I’m not even sure this one’s alive anymore,” she heard as she awoke once more. She could hear the waves in the distance, and could smell the salt of the sea again. The sand beneath her was hot and soft, yet the thicker grains grated every cut and scrape. The net was no longer wrapped around her. She figured they referred to her. If she dashed quickly… But she had to make a thorough assessment before she did anything rash. Perhaps they would just toss her into the sea. Her hands were still tied, but the palm branches, though they scraped her wrists cruelly, could be easily cut once she found a rock beneath the waves.
The men dragged her over the dry, hot sand to the edge of the waves; she heard the pounding of their feet as they ran swiftly off the beach again. She heard the soft cries of two daughters of the sea laying to her left, their hands still bound.
“We can go,” Qoshonni whispered urgently. “Follow me; I will lead you to safety. I know these waters well.”
“Then you would know that they are no longer free,” a son of the sea replied harshly.
Qoshonni pressed down the panic that bubbled to the surface of her mind.
“What is your name?” she heard the aquavian on her right ask.
“Qoshonni,” she replied, trying to hide the fear in her voice.
“I’m glad you have more hope than the rest of these,” the aquavian whispered. “You’re going to need it. I’m going to need it as well, for I cannot sustain all the hope on my own.”
“And what is your name, daughter of the sea?” Qoshonni asked.
“Ashwain,” she replied.
“Any hope I would have, Ashwain, would be in Elenonia.”
“All the better,” Ashwain replied. “We will need his aid if we need any at all, and we need plenty.” She moved her bound hands to her left side as Qoshonni moved hers to her right and they greeted one another, rubbing the webbing between each other’s fingers.
“Have you any ideas for escape?” Qoshonni asked.
“We could stay on land and hide in these jungles, but there would be no way to hide all of them,” Ashwain explained in a hushed whisper.
“The men of this land would capture us all again if they saw us,” Qoshonni returned. She could feel one of the waves lap against her feet. “The tide is rising, and the sun is setting. I’m sure we could get to the sea without their notice, and we would find somewhere to hide past the first ridge. There are a few mountains to the east, and we would find shelter in some of the caves.”
“Too many unfriendly octopi haunt those caves,” Ashwain replied. “Besides, we would not get past the patrols before we reached those mountains. I only just escaped their patrols when I climbed to this land for safety.”
“Mermen?” Qoshonni asked. Another wave crashed higher against her legs. Never before had the ocean frightened her. She fought the fear that crawled with crab-like legs across her skin.
Ashwain nodded in return. “I was on my way to see my sister…” she began and then cringed with disgust.
Qoshonni lifted her eyes as she felt weight upon her legs. It was heavy and sharp whatever it was, and it scraped her skin as it moved higher with the next wave. The shapes were that of mermen, at least what she remembered from the legends of old, pressing down on the legs of the aquavians. But she could not distinguish clearly, for every inch of their torso, arms and neck was covered in thick barnacle. Even the fins and tail were covered in barnacle. She cringed at the thought. What she had expected to be blond hair was a stringy mass sticking haphazardly from the top of their heads. Their grey eyes with the pinpoint irises were the blackest pools she had ever looked into. The one who leaned over her had breath that smelled like rotted flesh.
She could see his teeth, filed into sharpened points, as he inspected her and smiled. He spoke as he looked upon her, but she could not understand his language, and had to turn her face away to avoid the spit and the sea water pouring from his mouth. He slid back into the water once more, and she immediately felt cold, heavy, metal chains slam against her legs. Every one of the aquavians let out a scream from the pain and shock of it. The chains hit their bellies with the crash of the next wave, and the mermen were once again on top of them, tearing away at the crude bindings of palms around the aquavians’ wrists, and clamped shackles to them instead.
“Pray with me, Qoshonni,” Ashwain begged as she shook with great trepidation.
“Elenonia, help us,” she cried out with weakened, shaking voice. She immediately felt a barnacled hand sting her cheek. The only word that the merman spoke that she understood was Elenonia. She cried out again, and was thrown into the next wave. The undertow dragged her out, yet only slowly: the shackles that bound her were attached by chains to the shackles of the aquavians to her left and right. It took all of her strength, once she had reached water deep enough to swim in, to keep afloat with all that metal weighing her down. The mermen now darted back and forth through the water, bearing tridents the length of four aquavians each, and prodded those who began to sink.
How ever terrified she was, she was determined not to lose her head. Once they were past the first ridge and swimming through the open ocean, Qoshonni tried to count how many aquavians were linked to the chains.
Seventeen, she thought as she counted once more. I thought they only captured nine of us…
“We’ll have to sleep in shifts,” Ashwain whispered to her. “I will help to keep you up, if you help to keep me up while I sleep.”
“I will help you,” Qoshonni replied.
“Are you tired?”
Qoshonni shook her head, her eyes wide with terror.
“Elenonia, I know that even in our darkest hour, you are with us,” Ashwain began.
“Please help us in our darkest hour,” whispered another aquavian to Ashwain’s right.
“What is your name, sister?” Ashwain asked her.
“Mamshi,” she replied. “And this is my sister, Josheni. We will be sleeping in shifts to keep one another steady.”
“We will be doing the same, Mamshi,” Ashwain replied. “This is Qoshon–”
“Keep moving!” one of the mermen shouted out in the aquavian tongue.
Day and night melted together into an inky blackness as they plunged the waters to a depth that sunlight would not reach. When it was Qoshonni’s turn to hold the sleeping Ashwain steady in the water, she listened carefully to the mermen, determined to learn their speech. She lost track of days, and her stomach ached with hunger in those barren, deep seas. When she finally began to understand a few words of the mermen’s speech, she discerned that they were talking about food.
“Don’t eat anything they give you,” she heard Mamshi whisper to Ashwain. “We’ll need to forage for our own.”
“They want to control our minds through the food they give us,” Qoshonni added in a hushed whisper.
“We can’t let them control our minds,” said Ashwain. “Only with our minds free will we be able to help free the others.”
“How many days have passed?” Josheni asked.
“I’ve counted thirty-seven,” said Mamshi.
“I’ve counted thirty-nine,” said Ashwain.
“It’s hard to know in all this darkness,” said Qoshonni.
“Once we’re free, we’ll find my sister,” Ashwain whispered.
“Are you sure she will be able to help secure the freedom of the rest of them?” Mamshi asked.
“I’m sure of it.”
Qoshonni was jarred from her sleep. All of the aquavians were screaming in terror: both swimmers at the ends of the links were sinking rapidly.
“They killed them!” Ashwain screamed with despair.
“Swim up!” shouted Mamshi.
More and more of the aquavians in the links began to sink.
“They’re killing us!” Josheni shrieked.
Qoshonni tried her best to swim up and lift those around her as well. She could hear the mermen laugh as she and the others scrambled through the waters. In all that jostling, in all that darkness, she felt the weight of the chains grow lighter.
They must have cut loose the dead, she thought.
“Now, keep up!” one of the mermen shouted at them.
“Are you there?” she whispered to Ashwain.
“I am.” She had been crying, and she grabbed hold of Qoshonni’s hand. “Mamshi, Josheni?”
“We’re here,” Mamshi replied.
Days and nights (it was impossible to tell between them) passed in which Qoshonni was too scared to sleep. She, and the three daughters of the sea with her, prayed often, though the words of their prayers were desperate repetitions, and they nearly grew tired of reiterating the same plea. Qoshonni tried her best to encourage them.
“Keep trusting. We will be free, we will be free…”
“We have to help free the rest of these who are with us,” Ashwain exhorted.
“We will… we will…” Qoshonni reassured.
“We have to resolve not to eat their food,” Mamshi insisted urgently.
“I will join you in that resolution,” Ashwain replied.
“As will I,” said Qoshonni.
“And I,” echoed Josheni.
“If we keep our minds our own, we will be able to free the others,” said Mamshi.
“Get some sleep, Qoshonni,” said Ashwain. “I will hold you up.”
Qoshonni shook her head, her eyes wide with persistent terror. “I can’t”
“You will lose your wits without sleep.”
“I’ll try. I don’t want to slow you down.”
“You won’t slow me down.”
“Wake me if anything happens.”
“I will.”
“Ashwain?”
“Yes?”
“Have forty-seven or forty-eight days passed?”
“I’ve counted forty-eight.”
Qoshonni closed her eyes slowly, and sleep found her quickly once she did.
*
“Wake up, Qoshonni,” Ashwain whispered fervently.
Qoshonni forced her eyes open quickly; her heart raced and her jaw was tense as a rock. “What’s happening?”
“It smells awful,” Ashwain told her. “These waters are foul. And they seem to be hurrying us along even faster.”
“What is that noise in the distance?” Qoshonni asked. “And is that light?”
She could see the silhouette of Ashwain nod her head. There was light ahead, but it wasn’t day light. It was reddish and coming from the ocean floor, and its illumination didn’t reach very high through the water. And the noise, as they swam closer, was the sound of aquavians screaming, mermen shouting, metal clanking against metal, and the roar of creatures she had never heard before, a deep, ocean rattling roar.
“They’ve started the training,” she heard one of the mermen tell another in their language. She didn’t understand what they meant until she saw the scene for herself. Well over a thousand aquavians, each of them bearing tridents, were practicing techniques in troops of fifty each. The sight of aquavians, and so many bearing such weapons, cracked her heart with a wave of disillusionment and horror. There were grey sharks swimming around them that were at least twice as large as the giant white sharks she had seen a few times at the edge of Reshuvia, and huge, multi-tentacled creatures that nearly dwarfed the sharks and would feast on those too tired to swing their tridents.
Far from this spectacle she saw rows and columns of cages. She heard screaming and crying from the direction of the cages, and wanted to fight the mermen who were prodding them toward these cages. She grabbed Ashwain’s hand once more. The fear was too overwhelming, and she didn’t want to face it on her own.
Once they had reached the cages, the mermen released one captive at a time, shoved him or her inside an open cage and closed the door quickly. Josheni, Mamshi and Ashwain were each shoved into a cage before she was, and then they pushed her inside one of her own, much further away from any of the cages of the others.
For the first few days, the loneliness nearly ate her soul away. All she could hear was screaming and crying, and all she could smell was death and violence, a foul, bitter violence that overpowered almost all sense of sanity she clung to. She was hungry enough to eat just about anything, and her prayers were garbled desperation and no words of coherence. But once she heard the broken gratitude of the aquavians around her, who thanked the mermen profusely for their morsels of food, she resolved once more to avoid this meat.
There were the fierce, little fish with giant teeth protruding from their tiny jaws. She caught one once, and the food had sustained her for several days. A lobster swam into her cage on another occasion, and she thanked Elenonia for this meal.
At first she would say nothing when the mermen began to toss morsels of meat into her cage. Days innumerable had passed, and the passing fish and kelp had grown scant, but she was determined not to eat this meat thrown in by the mermen. She looked at it scornfully and threw it back at out the first time. Then she realized that those who were in the cages around her began to be released from their solitude. Those were the ones who had professed their gratitude. She waited several days more before she expressed her gratitude, but she still refused to eat. She would hide the meat in the corners of her cage, under the sand that had gathered there, and wait for the next passing fish, kelp or cluster of plankton. Sometimes she would use the meat to lure passing fish, but if the fish even nibbled at the meat, she would let it swim on. She did not like the thought of consuming a creature who had consumed this meat. But this method to keep from starving proved successful.
She waited and prayed. For days without count all the mermen would do was throw the meat into her cage. She picked at the giant barnacles that tried to cling to her skin, and had to remove eight or nine more every time she woke from sleep. She still feared the loneliness thrust upon her, but that was soothed by the faith she held of the presence of one who she knew loved her. And to Elenonia she prayed, though she could not hear any reply, or any hint that her captivity would end.
*
After months of saying only thank you, and hearing no reply, Qoshonni’s cage door suddenly opened.
“I wonder how your strength will hold up,” said the merman as he thrust a crude spear in her hand. “I hope you’ve eaten well.” He laughed as he dragged her over the cages and toward the center of the giant, underwater stronghold.
The gathering of mermen filled what looked like a coliseum surrounding an immense, metal, spherical cage; the raucous of those gathered was deafening. She saw four other aquavians with spears similar to the one she held swimming toward the coliseum at the bidding of the mermen who prodded them with their tridents. She was the only one without barnacles covering her skin.
As she swam closer, she saw three of the giant sharks swimming the in the cage.
“Get ready for the sparring sphere, little aquavian,” the merman beside her hissed as he pushed her over the crowds and toward the giant cage. He waited until all the aquavians were together before opening the small door and pushing them in.
She couldn’t stop to think, but had to stab thrust after thrust at the giant beasts which charged at them, and had to swim quickly out of the way of giant jaws aimed upon her and the other aquavians with her. She remembered the training of her youth on how to avoid shark bites, and drove her spear through the gills of the first, using the body of the dying beast to block the charges of the other two. She fought to remove the spear from the body, and to stay clear of the sides of the cage as the other sharks slammed the dead shark against the rusted metal bars. One of the other aquavians had managed to stab through the head of the second shark, and the other two had slain the third with repeated thrusts through its eyes. They panted with relief and looked with gratitude on one another.
Yet the voices of the mermen rose in indignation, clamoring for the deaths of these aquavians. Their precious sharks were dead, and these aquavians, who were allotted for this entertaining execution, had survived. Suddenly everyone hushed, and a single, calm voice spoke through the water.
“Bring them to me.”
The door of the sparring sphere opened and the aquavians were dragged out once more, and brought before the one who spoke. He was without barnacle, though all they could see of him was from his chest to his head, upon which he wore a thick, blue crown inlaid with tourmalines, sapphires and pearls. His youthful face was without defect, his sandy hair cropped short, and his teeth were rounded, not sharpened like the rest of the mermen. The clothing wrapping him was a soft, white leather with a fimbrial fringe of blue and light green. Upon the scepter he held sat a great eye the size of his head.
“To watch you has given me more entertainment than anything I’ve witness in a year!” he exclaimed in a melodious voice. Something about that voice sounded ancient, though his face looked young. “Do you not like giving pleasure to your king? For I am your king now, the great MerKing of Loesheen. Have you not heard of me? You will remember me hereafter as the one who saved your life. I so enjoyed today that I will not allow my mermen to kill you, no matter how many of our beasts you slay.” He smiled at each one of them, and then turned his eyes to Qoshonni. “Have you no love for the barnacle?”
“You do not wear any yourself. And I fight better without it, wouldn’t you say? I prefer to wear shark leather for armor,” she replied, yet cringed as she did so. He could have her executed with a single gesture.
He threw his head back and laughed loudly. She waited for the death blow to come.
“You may wear the sharkskin – if you defeat the shark on your own.” He smiled at her and winked. “When you are finished, you can tell me your name, for one so clever as you I desire to place in high rank.”
It was an hour before the cage was cleared of the dead and the new shark was led into the sphere, and she tried her best not to lose her nerve in this interval. As she approached the sphere the mermen jeered and spat at her. She pushed away fear and mustered confidence in its void as the cage door opened. The shark was quick to attack, but only caught the skin of her calf as she dodged out of its way. Despite the pain that shot through her, she pierced through the creature’s gills, and, once she retrieved her spear, she stabbed its eye.
Blood flowed profusely from her leg when she finally freed it from the shark’s teeth. She had always carried a needle in her pocket, carved from a piece of hard coral, which she kept on her from her youth for mending her clothing should it tear on rock. She would have to use it to close such a wound, and tried not to think on the pain. But the pain was more than she could bear, and the blood continued to flow. At the request of the MerKing, a merman swam to the cage and handed a bandage and a sharp knife to her through the bars. She wrapped the bandage around the wound on her leg, and turned, knife in hand, to skin the beast. The pain on her leg pulsed as she worked, but did not stop her determination. The audience soon grew bored and left her to her task unmonitored, except for the stunned aquavians who had fought the first of the beasts with her, and the MerKing with his attendants, who stared with intrigue.
“You truly are marvelous,” she heard whispered into her mind, and recognized the voice of the MerKing, the tendrils of his thoughts probing her inner consciousness.
She did her best not to shudder, but replied with, “Thank you.”
When she had retrieved enough of the sharkskin to form a proper suit of armor she banged on the door of the cages. The same merman who had brought her the bandage and the knife opened the cage door for her, and led her back to the MerKing.
“Well done,” the MerKing said to her. “I do have something that would heal that wound immediately.”
“But then I would not prove my worth to you,” she replied quickly, gritting her teeth against the pain.
“You are marvelous. Aldokar,” he said, turning to the merman who was swimming beside her, “take her to the recruits. I believe she is more than ready.”
*
She had to hold herself back from throwing her arms around Ashwain, Josheni and Mamshi when she finally recognized them behind the barnacle. They were camped in the midst of the aquavians near one of the hot vents that spewed the foul smell that permeated that sea, and the tube worms that swayed about in the undulation and fed on whatever was spewed from the vents. When Aldokar turned to leave her he placed a lump of meat in her hands and smiled wryly. Some of the other aquavians around her began to eye the meat covetously, which made her increasingly nervous. She didn’t want them to have it any more than she wanted to eat it. Josheni, Ashwain and Mamshi closed in around her.
“We will hide you while you bury it,” Josheni whispered.
“I have missed you,” Qoshonni whispered in return.
“What is this that you have?” Mamshi asked her, gesturing to the sharkskin.
“I killed it myself. He said I could wear this instead of the barnacle.”
“That was bold, sister,” Ashwain remarked. “It seems he likes you.”
“I saw him,” said Qoshonni. “He’s awful. He crawled around in my mind. And I found it hard not to like him, but he was awful.”
Ashwain, Mamshi and Josheni all nodded in agreement.
“He’s sending us on assignments soon,” Mamshi began. “We will be going north, to Poyeta Sea and Poyeet.”
“Are there aquavians there who will be able to help us?” Qoshonni asked as she dug through the hot sands of that ocean floor to bury the meat.
“No, the clan of the Poyeetan aquavians is here,” Josheni told her, “but the men of Poyesh may help us.”
“They don’t call it Poyesh,” Mamshi corrected. “They call it Poyantashe now. That was what I’ve heard the mermen refer to it as.”
“We have to qualify for missions south,” Ashwain insisted. “My sister is married to the king of the great land of Hoondiake. There is enough land there to hide all of us.”
“I heard that Ulys live on Hoondiake. Ulys would certainly help us, as much as they are able,” said Josheni.
“What prevents us from going there now?” Qoshonni asked. She patted the hot sand down over the meat. “We wouldn’t be able to lead all of them, but many, and we would come back for the rest.”
“What does prevent us?” Ashwain asked.
Mamshi shook her head. “We could forfeit all our efforts if we give ourselves away too soon.”
“But if we stay, we will have to uphold a façade of violence,” Ashwain commented.
“I am willing do that, if it’s necessary,” Qoshonni replied. “Appearing violent and actually killing can be a thin channel.”
“Yes,” Ashwain protested, “one that can be easily crossed. Have you any idea the cost to our minds, our souls if we cross that channel? We wouldn’t be able to go back.”
“We can swim away to quiet seas and never think again on this horrible captivity,” whispered Qoshonni, “but would that really be possible? Could we really turn our backs on all of these?” She stared around at the camp of aquavians. Some of them were fighting each other, others were screaming voraciously. Never before had she seen aquavians so violent or so disparaging. “I will do what is necessary.”
“And we will join with you,” two sons of the sea whispered over her shoulder.
Startled entirely, Qoshonni floated still in the water, not moving a muscle.
“Give us your name, brothers,” Mamshi demanded.
“I am Belshin, and this is Avolian, and we, like you have decided not to indulge in their feasts,” he said softly. “My wife and several other daughters of the sea have made the same decision, and now that we have found you, we want to share wisdom and knowledge.”
“How did you know about us?” Josheni demanded.
“You are far too peaceful, sisters,” Avolian whispered. “You need to fight among yourselves if you want to convince the mermen that you’ve eaten your meat.”
Qoshonni nodded her head. She stretched out her hand, rubbed the lines on the sons of the seas’ webbing, and with her other hand she pushed them back.
“Find your own weapons!” she shouted. “We have none we’ll spare you here!”
Avolian and Belshin backed away from her slowly, their nods of recognition barely perceptible.
“How long will we have to do this?” Josheni asked, her voice trembling as she fought back tears at the necessity of this conduct. “I’m afraid I may forget what it means to be an aquavian.”
*
Years passed, some said four, some five, none were able to calculate exactly how long in that constant and violent environment: the northern seas of Loesheen, Poyeta, Malowsha and Beedendun fell into the hands of the MerKing without much struggle. As far as Qoshonni knew, no aquavians had been sent south. The façade was becoming increasingly difficult to uphold with every passing day. None of the islands in the north were willing to resist the tyranny of the MerKing, some even seemed eager to build the weapons necessary to continue the campaign. Some had begun to disappear; aquavians who had kept their minds were summoned to the MerKing. None of them ever returned.
“Would any even notice if we gave our lives in resistance?” Mamshi asked Qoshonni in a moment near despair. Mamshi, Josheni, Qoshonni and Ashwain huddled together, attempting the pretense of violence as long as eyes watched them.
“Your MerKing has a task for you,” said Aldokar as he pulled Ashwain aside.
“I hope he has missions south,” she scowled as best she could. “They have much land, and much resistance to his majesty.”
The merman smiled menacingly. “Come with me.”
Threads of hope began to unravel in the remaining aquavians as they watched their comrade swim away, prodded on by the ever diligent and faithful attendant of the MerKing.
“Where have they gone?” Mamshi suddenly asked. Seven or eight more years had passed, perhaps even nine. Time dragged on in an endless and merciless thread of violence.
“Do we even want to know the answer?” Josheni asked. “Would we be able to uphold this… deception if we knew the answer? I cannot hold to hope any longer, my mother’s daughter, not without… I don’t see the end, and I want to see an end.”
“We will see an end, Josheni,” said Qoshonni.
The former cried herself asleep as Mamshi pulled Qoshonni aside.
“I will go to him tomorrow,” said Mamshi. “Please watch after her.”
“Will he let you into his presence without a summons?” Qoshonni asked.
“I have to find Ashwain, and countless others who have gone missing,” Mamshi asked. “Will you lead the others? Josheni especially, she cannot bear any more of this without another’s hope to keep her swimming. Belshin and Planda, Bersha, Chandeel, Avolian, Loocia and Zedellia: you will have to lead them if I do not return.”
“Shall we hope if you do not return?” Qoshonni asked.
“Shall we have had hope ever?” Mamshi returned. “I have heard rumors: he’s been trying to recruit aquavilings, those born just before the time we were captured. And we all know his recruiting techniques. But he seems afraid of them, that one in particular will cause his downfall. I may not fit the supposed prophecy, but I cannot tread idly by and watch this any longer.”
“Are you ready?” Qoshonni asked. “Are you ready to take that dive into violence when we have upheld only pretense for so long?”
“And the mermaids…” Mamshi continued, “remember them. Return to them often, and don’t forget to sing hope. There must be a dawn after all this darkness, and sometimes we must rattle that dawn into wakefulness.”
“What will I do without you?” Qoshonni asked. “You have been my family…”
“You’re stronger than you know, my dearest friend.”
Qoshonni tried not to recoil from Mamshi’s touch. She would cross that thin channel from deception to real violence. Was it the right step to take? It’s necessary! she tried to convince herself. What even is right any more? Elenonia, help us, save us from this darkness…
“You, more than the rest of us have what it takes to keep us going,” Mamshi continued. “You have had the clearest understanding of what is right and honorable.”
*
“I am scared,” Qoshonni whispered to Josheni. The eyes of the mermen were on them day and night, watching their troop for any sign of dissention. Mamshi had never returned, and the speculation of their faithfulness was made more evident with every passing hour. “I am scared that this will strip me of every emotion. Every day I bury more of my ability to feel.”
“I wonder if any of us will be able to claim back what he has stolen from us,” Josheni whispered in return. “Even if we still have our own minds and wills, he has stolen from us pieces that may not return even when he is defeated.”
Qoshonni rushed her forefinger over Josheni’s lips and shook her head. “We mustn’t speak of these things aloud! Forgive me for initiating such conversation.”
“Then let me teach you another way to communicate,” Qoshonni heard Josheni say in her mind. “This gift is not exclusive to his wretchedness.”
“Please, teach me!” Qoshonni requested eagerly.
“This belt of pearls he has allowed us to keep aids such communication.”
“You have injected hope where it waned,” said Qoshonni with a smile.
“There is a narrow channel between communicating and invading.”
“We swim many narrow channels,” Qoshonni returned. “Shall this be any different?”
“This gift can be used to convince others when necessary,” Josheni explained further.
“And that can be very helpful, but I see the narrow channel.”
“We cannot continue much longer without allies.”
“We must press on through the trials until those allies are found. Do not forget that we have an ally still.” This new gift, though it wearied her quickly, reminded her to be thankful. She still had an ally, and he, through her dear friend and comrade, had not forsaken her, but had given her hope. The hope would sustain another hour, another month, another year.
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