As she neared the outer edges of the
school, the press of bodies against her became more intense as the
fish struggled frantically to make their way inward, away from the
assaults of predators outside. Oshana knew this was a dangerous
place indeed for she was invisible to the outside and could easily be
struck by such an attack from sharks, or groupers or even from her
own barracuda, despite the fact that they would never have knowingly
done such a thing. Gasping for breath, she drove towards the outer
edge of the ball as quickly as she could, but her tail was so
constricted by the slick shapes of the fish squeezed tight around it,
that she could not move it enough to generate much force. A stroke
that made the entire side of her tail burn only carried her forward a
few inches and then, in the split second pause as she gathered her
strength for another effort, she was swept up by the momentum of the
school again, carried along forcefully, probably back deeper into the
ball. Again and again, she made the attempt, her entire body aching
with exhaustion, in the blind swirl powerless to know how much
progress, if any, she was making.
Suddenly, the fish inches from her
face, exploded into wild thrashing, fleeing in all directions
including directly into her, striking her stomach and already
throbbing limbs. Curls of blood bloomed like flowers in the space
left by the fleeing fish and hot guts left drifting in the current
flowed over her. She had a split second glimpse of the toothed maw
of the shark that had caused the disruption in the school, bits of
flesh still clinging to its serrated jaws, jaws that had missed
taking off her hand by only the smallest margin. But Oshana wasted
no time in fear over her narrow escape for the other thing the shark
had done was leave a hole in the side of the ball, a hole that was
rapidly closing as the herring were driven forward again but the
inexorable force of their fellows. Clawing with her hands and
thrashing with her tail, Oshana surged into the swiftly vanishing
gap, feeling the horrible constricting pressure against her start to
lessen almost at once. Freed from the crush of the fish around her,
she was able to breathe and move more easily and shot forward
suddenly, having forgotten the strength in her own tail when she
could swing it freely.
Of course, darting directly at a shark, its nostrils full of fresh blood was more than reckless at ordinary times and, even as she burst free of the school, Oshana drew her knife, to be ready if there was any trouble. The spear would have served her better but it would have been too difficult to grab over her shoulder while swimming. Fortunately, the shark turned and swam away without a glance in her direction and she allow her self to collapse, floating limply a few feet beyond the rippling wall of the school as she took great gasps of the water, recovering her breath and strength. After a moment, she looked around and saw the others were nowhere in sight. She must have emerged on the other side of the ball. Wearily, she began swimming down as it would be at least as fast to go under the ball as to try to swim around it and she would be less likely to run up against predators who were still feasting on the bounty of herring.
After swimming slowly for some time,
for she was unable to summon the energy to go faster, she was able to
see the others gathered above her. But they were all focused on the
ball and paying no attention to what was behind or under them.
Oshana tried to call out but the space was so full of noises, the
rush of countless bodies frantically careening through the water,
dolphins eagerly clicking to each other, and even the faint cry of
sky birds circling above the surface of the water, ready to dive down
and seize the herring as well, that her own voice was completely
drowned out. So, she struggled onward, her muscles now feeling heavy
and stiff as ossified dead coral. But suddenly, she received relief
from an unexpected source. Although the others remained focused on
the ball, Salandra was left hovering on the outer edge of the group,
clearly out of place in their consultation. Facing away from them,
she would scan the surrounding ocean from time to time, perhaps to
distract herself from her exclusion. Before long, her eyes fell on
Oshana and she began waving her arms about and gesturing to the
others and, almost at once, they had all turned towards her and began
swimming in her direction.
Soon she was able to relax at last as
she felt their supporting arms take hold of her, careful not to cover
her back vents, which were still spurting furiously as she tried to
recover her breath, bearing her up and helping her through the water
so she was able to let her own tail trail limply. She felt a hand on
her chin and something hard against her cheek as one of the girls
offered her some oysters kept fresh in their shells. But they were
so pungent and slick with mucus that, in her exhausted state, she
would not take them and tried to turn her head away. The oyster half
shell was removed and a thin, smooth wedge of polished shell was
placed against her mouth. Quickly recognizing it, Oshana clamped her
lips around it and drew into her throat the sharp, burning pulp
inside, the fermented grasses pulverized to mush and left to stew in
their own juices so they could be consumed by the ill—or the
exhausted like herself. It smoldered in her stomach and she felt
heat and strength flowing back into her body. When they offered her
the shellfish again, she was able to slurp up the slick slimy meat
from the shell, greedily extracting all its nutrients. Although she
knew, and they must guess as well, that the situation was dire, she
did not offer any information and they did not press her until after
she had eaten and drunk
“It is a red devil,” she said at
last when her breathing had recovered enough that she could trust
herself to speak clearly. The others exchanged worried looks and
some of them went pallid, even under the already pale skin of their
faces. Out of the corner of her eye, Oshana saw Onshal flinch,
slightly lifting the shoulder that was freckled with a cluster of
small, puckered scars, the remains of an earlier encounter with a red
devil, left by the toothed suckers on its coiling arms.
“That's not possible,” objected
Messema. “Even the tightest herring ball couldn't hold together
with one of those monsters ripping it apart from the inside.”
“That's just it,” cried Oshana
between gulps of water over her gills and further swallows of the
liquor. “It wasn't attacking at all. Just sitting there doing
nothing. It goes against everything we know about the creatures.”
Wenesh shook all over. “I feel
hunger,” she said in a hollow voice. “Great gnawing hunger like
the need to devour an entire feast alone.”
Messema grabbed her shoulder. “Is
it the red devil's hunger you feel?” she asked sharply.
“I don't know. I just feel the
hunger. I can't tell where it comes from but what else could it be?
It is so great, it must be a very strong mind.”
“I always thought the scarlet squid
were just mindless savage animals,” objected Onshal fiercely.
“And that was bad enough,” Oshana
agreed grimly. “But, again, this one was not eating. How could it
be hungry?”
“Never mind that now. Someone needs
to get back to the reefnest as quickly as possible, to warn the
others,” said Messema, her voice tense.
“Not Oshana, for certain,”
countered Wenesh, her brow furrowed in concern. “She's completely
worn out.”
“I was not suggesting that.”
Messema frowned.
“Salandra is a very fast swimmer,”
Oshana gasped, still not having fully recovered her breath.
Salandra turned slowly and looked at her with wide eyes. “Are you
sure?” she asked in a small voice. “Do you really trust me?”
“Yes, little sister. We are relying
on you to save us all. This is a chance to do something that will
impress your future bond mother far more than spearing a few fish.”
“I would rather make my bond sister
proud.” Salandra turned and went streaking away through the water,
her pale blond hair streaming in a plume behind her.
“What do we do now?” asked Onshal
in a small voice as Salandra vanished into the blue expanse of the
ocean.
“We stay here,” said Messema
firmly, though they could hear a slight catch in her voice, “and,
if they move towards the reefnest we try to turn them aside or stall
them for as long as we can.”
“Stall...that?” another asked
doubtfully, pointing towards the roiling mass of gleaming fish,
rendered even more ominous by the thought of what waited inside.
Oshana remembered the horrible slimy pressure of the bodies all
around her and wanted to be as far away from the school as possible
to avoid any risk of it ever happening again. But there was nothing
for it. They had to buy time for Salandra to give the warning and
bring help if possible. They did not have to wait long. Soon, the
glinting sphere of the ball began to flatten out and elongate,
uncoiling into a great serpent of living bodies. If they had needed
any further indication that the school were controlled by an
unnatural intelligence, this would have eliminated all doubt. No
school would willingly place themselves in such a vulnerable position
when surrounded by predators and, indeed, as the ball began to
loosen, the sharks and dolphins surged forward, tearing great
mouthfuls out of the living mass. The barracuda twitched restlessly,
some even making short dashes forward, but reined in by sharp
commands from their handlers.
But only at first. Soon many of the
predators, especially the more intelligent ones, began to pull back,
spooked by the unnatural behavior of the school. Further, the snake
of fish began to weave from side to side, with a coordination not
possible without a central animating consciousness, skillfully
dodging and evading many of the sallies made against it. Slowly, the
wedge-shaped end swung back and forth as if orienting itself. At
last, seeming to find the direction for which it was aiming, the
entire body of the school began surging forward at a speed they would
have hardly thought possible. It flew straight but the long tail
rippling behind still weaved about dodging the few predators who had
not fled by now. There was no sign of the beast that lurked within
but they knew it must be there. How else could the school execute
these unusual behaviors with such precision?
“It's heading towards the reefnest,”
Messema cried desperately. “We must stop it.”
Messema's words roused the group to
action. Harpoons were cocked, spears raised to shoulders, barracuda
called to heel, as they gathered themselves into their own wedge,
though more broad and flat in shape than the oncoming one, close
packed but not so close that it would impede the use of their
weapons. They knew many or all of them were unlikely to survive in a
fight against such a fearsome opponent but this did not matter. All
they cared about was at stake and they had come forth eager for the
chance to prove themselves. That chance had been given and they
would not squander it now. Oshana was as aware of the danger as any
other and, beyond, was still heavy with weariness from her ordeal
within the ball but she was as determined as the rest, grimly fitting
the shaft into her harpoon gun and holding it ready as they began
swimming forward to intercept the onrushing school. Again, Oshana
felt her gills flutter desperately in her throat, all the muscles in
her tail become heavy and rigid and every attempt to move them sent
pain arching through her. But she would not let herself think of
that and narrowed her mind to the single focus and will to make her
tail keep beating up and down so that she kept pace with her
companions.
Thankfully, Messema called a halt
before they had had to keep up this pace for long. At least it
seemed that way to Oshana, though she had no way of knowing for sure
how much time had passed while she had been thinking only of forcing
herself to go on. “Ready missiles,” Messema yelled, her voice
vibrating and resonating through the water. Oshana raised her
harpoon to her shoulder and prepared to take aim but, as she sighted
along the length of the shaft, she saw with amazement and fear that
in its wild rush of speed, the school was closing the gap between
them with incredible rapidity. No wonder Messema had called a halt
so quickly. At this pace, it would be too close for effective fire
in less than a minute. At this speed, it was useless trying to hit a
single target, especially in the mass of surging bodies, all crossing
and diving over and under each other. Not bothering to waste time on
more precise aim, she pointed her weapon in the general direction of
the shimmering mass and pulled the trigger. As she did so, she felt
the surge in the water around her as other missiles flew passed.
Once all the mermaids who had them had fired their harpoons, those
who had extra spears waited until the herring were in range and threw
them as well. A few tried to reload and fire their harpoons but
Oshana knew she would never be able to reel in the line and re-fit
the shaft into the groove in time. All her companions who had made a
successful hit had already had to cut their lines to prevent being
pulled along with the school.
Once all options for long range combat
had been exhausted, they looked again at the oncoming swarm and saw
with dismay that they had barely made a dent in it. Although a few
bodies floated down into the depths of the sea, impaled, this was the
only sign that they had done any damage at all. The main body of the
school appeared unscathed, the dead fish already replaced in the
formation by the vast numbers behind them. Now, the forefront of the
wedge was close enough that they could see the eyes of the herring.
There was no time for fear, or for further plans. Oshana looked
around at her companions as she pulled her spear off her shoulder and
took a firmer grip on it. They too looked grim as they held their
weapons steadily. Onshal gave a small sad smile as if to say, “If
today is my last day, I'm glad I spend it with you,” and others
were nodding and exchanging similar sentiments through their
expressions, there not being time left for embraces or even a hand
clasp. Then Lenuel began a deep thrumming, pulsing sound, like a
beating heart, like blood surging through the veins, that steadied
them, excited them, making them feel as one, part of the same great
heart that was their people. But Oshana felt a pang of longing for
Wendaro. Glad as she was to give her life beside her companions,
defending their homes and families, she could not bear the thought of
final separation from her beloved. It was easy for Onshal to be
brave when she knew that she and Lenuel could never be separated and
would stand or fall as one. Oshana's final thought, in the last
seconds before the horde of herring was upon them was how glad she
was that she had saved Salandra, even if only inadvertently.
Then the vanguard of the school
crashed into them, the force of the water pushed in front of that
mass of bodies almost knocking the breath from her before she even
had a change to raise her spear. At once the fish were all around
them. She drew back the shaft of her spear to stab but, before she
could, it was batted to the side and almost ripped from her hand by
the rush of the school around her. With great difficulty, she
brought the long, unwieldy weapon back to her side and attempted to
strike twice more before she gave up. Spears were useless. Not only
was there no room to swing and thrust but the fish moved so rapidly
and there were so many of them that trying to spit one of them was
all but impossible. Even if one could succeed, in the roiling swarm,
this was often a liability. To her left, she saw Wenesh struggling
desperately to remove a body jammed on to the end of her spear,
rendering her defenseless as more of the herring buffeted her from
all sides. In frustration, Oshana replaced her spear on her back
with difficulty and drew her knife.
At least the fish had no way of
seriously injuring them. Lacking teeth or spines, all they could do
was use their own bodies as missiles, battering against them with
dull heavy thuds, but this was bad enough. Oshana felt bruised and
winded and the constant rush of bodies around her prevented her form
acting or even thinking effectively. It was impossible to tell if
this was actually deliberate or simply the side effect of their wild
onward rush. A hurtling body struck with force into the shoulder of
her fighting arm, making her flail. By tensing the already aching
muscles of her arm as hard as she could, she was able to halt the
uncontrolled swing and bring her knife back to her side, scoring it
across the side of a passing fish in the process. But she did not
even look to see if she had killed it for another shot past, less
than an inch for her face on the other side and she instinctively
sprang back from it, raising her hands to protect her eyes so that a
cluster of the oncoming fish slammed into her half turned body below
the shoulder blades, knocking the water from her throat and chest
cavity and momentarily winding her. There was a painful tightness in
her chest as the muscles worked frantically to draw in more oxygen
rich water but, even as this happened, she had the presence of mind
to raise her knife, catching one of the fish under its chin so it was
sliced in half by the force of its own speed. How long this
exhausting repetition of dodge and strike went on, she had no idea.
By now they were surrounded so thickly by the school that it had
become dark, the sun being unable to penetrate effectively among the
swarming bodies. The water around them was foul, full of blood and
floating guts from the fish they had killed, thrown against them over
and over in the frantically churning water so they were coated with a
slick film of offal. Despite the fact that they were becoming
increasingly difficult to control, they had to send their barracuda
to the back and outer edges of the fight, lest they accidentally
injure them in the darkness and confusion. It was fortunate indeed
that the sharks and wild barracuda had long since abandoned their
pursuit of the school.
“Curse this darkness,“ she heard
Messema yell from somewhere behind her shoulder, sounding far away in
the roil of the battle. “I can barely see in front of my face.”
Something felt very wrong to Oshana.
The fish were darting all around her. She could not hold her arm out
without it being struck but she could hold it out. “How can
it be so dark?” she cried aloud. “Even in the middle of the
ball, when they were so close around me that I could hardly move,
there was more light than this.” In response, a quivering tremor
of sound came from Lenual and she knew it was a cry of fear.
“Because it isn't that the fish
alone that are blocking out the sun,” she heard Onshal gasp in
dismay. “It is ink. Look.” Oshana did not want to look but was
unable to avoid registering what she could not help seeing, the black
tendrils drifting forward through the water, coiling around the
flicking sliver shapes of the fish, seeming to grab for her and when
she looked up, she could see them stretching out overhead like a vast
roof. The red devil was casting its black net over them. Being
surrounded by ink from a squid that size would be alarming in any
circumstance as it would prevent seeing to effectively defend oneself
against it. But here, who knew what foul magic might be in the
creature? If it could command the vast school of herring, perhaps it
could invest its ink with corrupting poison, able to sap their
strength, wither their bodies, and corrode their skin and will even
as they fought against it. Oshana drew a shuddering breath and tried
not to think of this, focusing only on slashing through the next
opponent and then the next as the undulating darkness crept closer
and closer.
Steadily it grew darker, until they
could only with great difficulty see anything beyond the flashes of
pale silver as the herring dashed past them out of the blackness and,
soon, their eyes were so focused on these flashes that they were
unable to see anything else, even had the light permitted. They knew
nothing but the flashes, straining to pick them out of the dark water
and then, if one was close enough, to lunge at it with spear or
knife, occasionally being rewarded with gush of slimy liquid against
their skin, letting them know they had found their target. They
could not see each other and the sound of the school pouring past
them in an endless stream meant they could not locate one another by
movement either. There was no way of knowing if they were drifting
farther and farther apart so each was alone in the empty blackness
or, worse, if they were drawing nearer together and might
accidentally strike one another in the fray.
The swelling call of Lenual came
through the darkness, making the water around them hum with energy
and power. It gave them courage, reminding them of the beautiful
sunlit world and the home for which they were fighting, even though
it now felt separated from them by a gulf of eternity. His voice
also gave them place and physical reality again, helping them locate
themselves in the empty void. Now they could hear how far they were
from Onshal and try to orient themselves accordingly, though they
still could not hear how close they were to one another. Some of the
girls tried to call out periodically to help them stay in formation
but, their voices did not possess the resonance of a merman's and
they were frequently swallowed up in the rush and gurgle of the
motion all around them. It was not wholly futile. Oshana narrowly
avoided stabbing Wenesh when she heard her suddenly yell out directly
in front of her, but establishing anything even remotely like
systematic communication was beyond their ability. If only they had
all been bonded or at least more of them had been. Then their mates
could have spoken to one another with ease. This was one of the main
reasons older women were more often chosen for dangerous tasks like
this but chance had allotted this fight to them and they must hold
the advance for as long as they could.
Their eyes straining to find their
targets, and their ears straining to gather what limited information
they could about one another's whereabouts, they had no room to spare
for thinking and so did not notice at first when the flashes of the
darting fish were joined by others, larger, longer, flashes that,
faintly at first, then more strongly, began to pulse with a red tint.
Suddenly, quite clearly, unobstructed by the water or the surge
around them, she heard Wenesh scream “It is here,” her voice
cracking as it climbed rapidly to a shrill pitch of horror. Above
them and below them, to their sides almost surrounding them, they
could see the scarlet tentacles trailing in and out of the black ink,
their pulsing catsing bloody reflections on the hordes of herring.
At first, they were nothing more than ominous threats looming in the
background, distracting the defenders with fear, and with the
strobing flashes that made everything seem to repeatedly start and
stop again, making it hard to keep their aim steady on the fish.
But, gradually, they moved closer and closer, until they were near
enough to strike at the mermaids themselves. Soon the fish were
abandoned in the face of this much greater threat, but were still all
around them, blocking their strokes, hurling them bodily into the
grasping arms, exhausting them by forcing them to battle the current
they had stirred up. There was nothing to be done but hold on and
try to navigate these new perils as best they could.
One of the scarlet tendrils came
whipping out of the darkness, wrapping itself around Oshana's arm
before she could dart aside. It gripped her, rubbery, cold, and
heavy. She felt it flex and pulse against her, the hideous strength
hidden in the flaccid limb, enough maybe to tear her arm off should
it have a mind to, sensed the suckers feel their way across her skin
like horrible searching fingers. And then it was as if she had been
pieced by a hundred tiny needles as the teeth inside the suckers
gripped her, boring into her flesh so she could not tear the arm
away. The fish were still buffeting her and she fought on, ignoring
the pain as best she could, her attacks now hampered by the dead
weight on her arm. But slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, the
slippery appendage began to pull against her, drawing her forward
through the water.
When she realized this, Oshana fought
back desperately, thrashing her tail so that it pummeled against the
heavy bodies of the fish surrounding her. At her first act of
resistance, searing white pain exploded all down her arm as her
pulling back put additional pressure on the hooks sunk into her skin
but still she struggled, again cursing the restriction of her
movement caused by the press of the school around her that prevented
her from bringing the full strength of her tail to bear. And then
out of the blackness before her she saw the whole vast expanse of its
body come rippling into view, pulsing red, pulsing, pulsing, like the
frantic hammering of her heart, like the throb of pain where it
gripped her arm. It was drawing her in, dragging her to the beak.
Overcome with panic, Oshana slashed wildly with her knife, striking
the gripping tendril over and over until it began to loosen its hold,
but she would not relent and, when it jerked away, it left part of
its severed length still clinging to her. Though, of course, it took
some of her skin with it in exchange as well. Freed, Oshana glanced
around wildly. The darkness of the ink must be dissipating. That
and the hellish flashes from the red devil were illuminating the
surrounding sea. She could see some of the others also caught in its
grasp, being drawn in as she had been. She made a dash for the
nearest one, feeling the racing members of the school strike her as
she tried to swim across their path and calling for her barracuda as
she did so. Soon, almost too soon, they were by her side, lunging at
the herring with a savagery she had never seen before. Angrily, she
commanded them to aid her in attacking the squid but they ignored
her, the nearest crushing another herring body between its jaws then
letting it fall and drift away on the current. Not daring to waste
any more time on her hunting fish's disobedience, Oshana turned back
to her companions in distress.
The closest victim was Wenesh, the
tentacle wrapped around her torso, and Oshana could see the raw, red
patches where it had already gripped once and then released to take a
firmer hold slightly above. Wenesh's head was thrown back as she
writhed in agony, her tail arching wildly through the water, trailing
foam, dyed pink in the bloody light. She had either lost her knife,
was unable to reach it, or had forgotten it in her panic, for she was
grappling with the tentacle, trying to free herself from it with her
bare hands. With a final surge of strength, Oshana shot forward to
reach her, hacking at the coiling appendage until it released her.
Wenesh doubled over gasping, as if she had been having trouble
breathing in addition to her other injuries. Her body was streaked
with the dense blue of the red devil's blood and more tendrils of it
curled through the water nearby but Oshana could take no comfort in
this for, whatever wounds they had dealt the creature were certainly
not enough to kill it, or even induce it to turn back. And then she
saw, to her vast annoyance, that the barracuda still had not aided
her in attacking it but, instead, were gliding about savaging the
herring. Oshana began to yell with frustration. It was true this is
how they would instinctively respond but she thought she had trained
them better than that. She yelled again but the long sleek bodies
sped by without even acknowledging her, plunging into the clouds of
blood and offal, with a ferocity she had never witnessed before.
“They can't hear you,” said a
small sad voice by her ear. It must be very closer for her to hear
it so clearly amidst the tumult of combat. Turning, she saw Wenesh
had recovered somewhat, though her chest still heaved and her eyes
were wild. The pale skin of her torso was smeared with dark slimy
blotches, fish guts, ink, some horrible melding of the two, and she
clutched her knife in her hand now, having drawn it as soon as she
was able, slashing at the bodies around her even as she spoke to
Oshana. “It is in their minds,” she said grimly.
“What?” Oshana was only half
listening, slashing at the tendril that had reared up again and was
now attempting to encircle them both.
“It hungers. It hungers.” Wenesh
moaned and rocked back and forth, doubling over again. Her
difficulty breathing seemed to come as much from the horror in her
mind as from any physical exertion. “But it does not hunger for
food. It hunger for life, life devoured, the power of the life spark
extinguished and absorbed into the one who consumes. It can reach
weaker minds and drive them to kill and kill and each kill makes them
stronger.”
Oshana looked around at the barracuda
again, more closely this time, as best she could with the herring
bodies, living and dead filling the water and the deadly scarlet
ribbon dancing inches form her face, the toothed pits on its
underside opening wide to grasp for her. They did seem to show an
unnatural strength and speed and there was a directness in their
flight, a keenness in their eyes that was indeed uncanny. They
dashed from one member of the school to the next, slashing, rending,
devouring, seemingly intent on sowing the maximum amount of violence
and pain, all in direct opposition to their training to kill as
cleanly as possible and bring the body back whole.
“But why would it want to make the
fish that serve us stronger?” she cried in frantic objection.
“Because, when the sharks come in
and eat them it will make the sharks stronger.” Wenesh's voice
sounded vague, almost dreamy and the sweep of her dagger was
perilously slow as she moved to fend off another coil of the grasping
arms.
“What sharks?” cried Oshana in a
panic. “The sharks that came here to feed on the ball all ran
away.”
“They didn't go far. It can call
them back quickly and the sharks will devour the barracuda, already
strong from killing so many herring. And then a pair of young
serpents, on their very first foray up from the depths, small enough
we could still try to kill then, will eat the sharks. And when they
reach the reefnest they will eat the mermaids. All our knowledge,
all our power will go into them...and then the red devil will eat the
serpents.” Cold dread beyond anything she had the ability to bend
her mind around, coursed through Oshana and, in her horror, her mind
wavered and she slashed at the snaking tendril a split second too
late. She felt the cold sliminess of it close around her shoulder
and torso, pinning her arms and felt herself tense, waiting for the
suckers to bite. But, before they could, the arm suddenly loosed its
clutches but, before she could even drop to slip out from under it,
she saw part of it explode in a great burst of livid blue ichor and
she turned to see Voresha, who had come up, unnoticed in the
struggle, standing beside them with a grim expression, holding her
knife in one hand and the end of the severed tentacle, still feebly
twitching, in the other, but under the flush of battle, her face was
pallid and hollow.
“I heard what you said,” she said
in a dull, flat voice. “It will eat our souls.”
“Yes, if it reaches home, we are all
doomed.” Wenesh did not look up to meet Voresha's eyes.
“The others have to know.”
She turned and darted away through the
water, buffeted mercilessly by the darting fish as she tried to swim
across their path, even as Oshana yelled after her “No, don't do
that. We don't what them to be so frightened they lose heart.”
But her words were lost in the rushing of the water around her and
the pounding of her own blood inside her head. Almost at once,
however, she had to turn her attention back to repelling the coiling
arm that reached for them again, not being quite quick enough and
taking a wound on her shoulder before she got free, and, when she was
able to pause again to catch her breath, Voresha was lost in the
chaos of combat around them, so she never knew how many she reached
with her unwanted message. Probably not many for, like Oshana
herself, it was unlikely she could swim many feet without having to
stop and beat away one of the clutching arms of the red devil.
Regardless, from the little she could see around her, Oshana gathered
that just as she and Wenesh did, the other mermaids continued to
fight their best fight despite their ever growing pain, exhaustion,
and despair.
But, as might have been predicted,
their efforts were not enough. They were too few and too
inexperienced to effectively oppose even a smaller and less powerful
red devil, to say nothing of how the ceaseless battering from the
fish it governed distracted them and sapped their strength. They
were putting up a good fight. They had severed or wounded several
tentacles but there were always more to rise and take their place.
They were using all their strength to resist being pulled closer and,
sometimes, by exerting all their effort, they were able to halt the
advance to a crawl but then their strength would flag and it would
have the upper hand again. Steadily and inexorably, they were all
being drawn in, nearer and nearer to the snapping beak. It gleamed
faintly, like dark, shiny obsidian, the hectic pulses giving it a
deep red cast, as if it were crusted with dried blood. Now they
could hear the clacking sound of the great beak snapping closer and
closer and their doom could not be delayed for long. Some of the
girls were beginning to break down with weariness and the horror of
the situation but a few, including Meseema and Onshal, who still had
the strength and courage to fight, stood before the others, shielding
them until the last possible moment. But that could not be far away
now. The great beak gaped before them as Meseema prepared to call on
the others to rouse themselves for the final resistance. She opened
her mouth but Oshana could not hear the words she spoke. The sound
of the beak snapping filled all the space around them and was the
only sound that could be heard now, with their minds if not with
their ears.
Then through the horror of the obscene
clacking another sound cut. A long, clear resonance that made the
water thrum. It was answered by another, similar sound, father away
but rapidly approaching and through a cloudy daze, like something in
a dream, Oshana recognized the calls of the shell horns the mermaids
used to communicate over long distances. Then, close behind them
came the resonating cries of the mermen and, the relief gradually
coming alive inside her, Oshana realized that Salandra had succeeded
in her mission. Help had arrived only just in time. The herring
were scattering in every direction as the sea filled with mermaids,
their hair swirling about them, spears sweeping. Their onrush drove
back some of the clouds of ink and light came streaming in.
A soft hand was laid on Oshana's
shoulder and she turned to see Lenellis, her mother's sister,
standing beside her, a spear held ready in her other hand. “You've
done more than enough,” she said, leaning close so she could be
heard over the noise around them. “Go back now and have someone
take care of you.” Behind the protective screen of the newcomers,
it was easy for Oshana to disengage from the battle, pulling back
until she was beyond the cloud of ink and the press of the school,
where the sun could fall freely on her again and, when she reached
the clear open water, she could see several of her companions who had
been able to withdraw in a similar manner. Still, the thought of the
long swim back to the reefnest, weary and wounded as she was, was
incredibly daunting.
“Come,” called Onshal, trying to
encourage the others, though, as she flexed her aching tail to
follow, Oshana noted sourly that Onshal appeared comparatively
uninjured and had Lenuel to help encourage her. But even if it was a
bit much coming from her, Onshal was correct. They needed to get
home and the fact that many of them were weary or sorely injured only
made it the more imperative. So they set off swimming, but their
progress was painfully slow. Every push forward through the water
hurt and she was not even the worst off. Others had lost a great
deal of blood from the cruel wounds the red devil's arms had rent in
their flesh and while they had tried to staunch them with basic wraps
they carried in their hunting pouches, they had been allowed no time
to apply them properly and there was little true assistance they
could give without the supplies and comforts of the reefnest. The
battle was barely out of sight behind them when they felt the last
reserves of their strength start to flag.
Just as she felt she could swim no
more she saw a blur of motion before them and a figure resolved out
of the swirling expanse of the water, swimming restlessly back and
forth, her pale almost white hair and deep green fins making a cloud
around her. As she saw the group approaching, she swam towards them
and Oshana realized it was Salandra. “What are you doing here?”
Oshana gasped as the younger girl gently offered her her arm. “I
told you to stay out of this.” She winced as the effort of
speaking forcefully made her side twinge.
“Rest easy,” said Salandra. “I'm
not going to try to enter the battle.” As she spoke she was
swimming forward, drawing Oshana along with easy but firm pressure.
“I just came to make sure you got back safe. I owe you that much
after you made the effort to watch out for me on my first real hunt.”
“Some first hunt,” they heard the
girl behind them grumble. “From now on, you'll either be far too
scared to go on another or find them all horribly dull.”
Salandra gave a quick laugh in
response that did wonders to raise all their spirits. “Besides,”
she turned and almost winked at Oshana. “Wendaro insisted that I
do so. It was the only way I could get him to stop badgering me
incessantly and very loudly too I might add.” Her statement earned
several chuckles from her companions, sore and weary as they were.
But, despite Salandra's encouragement, the return swim was trying
indeed and Oshana was bone weary by the time they made their way
through the net. It was such a relief to reach her own home and sink
into the soft support of a hammock. Most of her family were out
fighting in the defense but her youngest sister was still there and
moved quickly to bring her a nourishing paste of ground and
compressed fish heads, rich with all the goodness of the eyes and
brain and bind broad-leafed seaweed over her hurts. Much soothed by
the care she drifted off into an exhausted sleep.
A few days later, when she and most of
the others who had gone on the hunt were recovered, at least enough
so to get out of bed, a great feast was prepared to celebrate the
defense of their home. Even Lowella had emerged from her house for
the occasion. She had to swim slowly and her family brought a
special hammock so she could sit more comfortably but she was still
insistent on not missing the event. The spread of food was vast,
fresh oysters served in in their shells, delicate slices of
cuttlefish and sea snail wrapped in a variety of weeds and grasses to
create subtle varieties of flavor, whole fish, tuna, herring, sea
bass, halibut, stuffed with shredded crab meat and flavorful pastes
of ground seaweed and polyps, even fresh fruit from the surface, and
Oshana wondered how they could have assembled and prepared it all so
quickly, though, of course, the salted and fermented meat and sea
grass pastes came from their stores and so was easy to provide. The
open square just inside the net was a riot of color, garlands made
from bright shells and fresh seaweed accented with sprays of the most
colorful algae and corals from the living walls of their homes were
draped over every available surface, even threaded through the weave
of the net, and lopped around the edges of the round tables, shells
of giant clams and sea turtles balanced on rocks, that had been
brought out for the occasion.
Not only the square itself but the
mermaids as well were beautifully adorned with shells and blossoms,
their gossamer robes floating about them. Because of her heroic role
in the defense, Oshana's mother and sister made much of her and spent
hours making sure she looked perfect, spreading ribbons of brightly
colored seaweed through the elaborately braided hairdo they
constructed and draping her with all of the family's most precious
adornments, including their most prized piece, a great collar formed
of interlaced strands of brightly colored coral beads ending in a
large oval shell coated in rainbow mother-of-pearl resting against
her chest and casting shards of light onto her skin and her other
bangles. She also had strands of linked cowries that hung down
almost to the start of her scales, a shell diadem on her forehead,
and so many bracelets they clinked every time she moved. They also
fussed about her make up, staining her eyes and lips with the most
vivid dyes made from the reds and purples of sea snails, the paler,
more delicate hues of sponges, and outlining her eyes with the glossy
hue of squid ink. Oshana flinched slightly at the sight of the ink
even though she knew the squid it had come from was small and
harmless but quickly forgot her discomfort in the admiring gasps from
the other women. Of course, even her best would look plain in
comparison to the wealthier mermaids, like the women of Wendaro's
family, but Oshana did not care. She felt glamorous indeed as she
swam down the path and everyone she passed called out congratulations
for her recovery and the role she had played in their escape.
When she reached the square, the
celebration was already well under way. Music filled the air, with
the blowing of horns and the beating on shells of various sizes,
accompanied by the mermaids singing with words and well as the
transcendent voices of the mermen underlying everything. A great
dance was in progress as the entire reefnest assembled, the mermaids
weaving gracefully in and out around each other, graciously making
space for the newcomers as they arrived. Although the dance formed a
harmonious whole, there was no preset pattern. All the mermaids kept
swimming continuously, moving fluidly through whatever opening
happened to appear in the space around them, up, down, or weaving
around their companions, sweeping their arms and tossing their hair
to the melody. But the dance was more than just a thing of aesthetic
beauty, it was a chance to see and be seen and to greet all of ones
neighbors. As the cluster of mermaids spiraled around each other,
they called out to those they passed, making gestures of welcome and,
of course, noting who had to most impressive costume, jewelry, and
hairstyle. They were particularly eager to greet Oshana as one of
the heroines of the celebrated hunt, and so she found herself,
quickly swept up into the dance and was soon bowing and gesturing in
every direction, the salutations so constant she could hardly think.
It took everything she had to simply return proper greetings and keep
moving.
Once the majority of the residents
were assembled, the dance gradually broke apart and the mermaids
settled down onto the various resting places, smooth rocks and masses
of coral that formed part of the normal ambiance of the open area, as
well as various slings and hammocks that had been brought out and set
up specially for the occasion, clearing the water above the feast
tables. Now it was time for contests and games as various members
vied at chasing down and capturing fish, casting spears at targets,
and racing to grab a small net full of tightly packed sponges. As
the sport gradually gave way to feasting, there were stirring tales
of great hunts passed and beautiful songs from some of the most
accomplished merman soloists but there was also long periods of time
when the only sound was the excited ripple of conversation. As in
the dance, Oshana often found it hard to get in a mouthful as others
were constantly coming up to congratulate her or ask her excited
questions about the battle and she was very glad of the times when
others were speaking or signing and all would fall quiet to allow her
some time to eat in peace.
After they had feasted and rejoiced
for several hours, a vibrating trill sounded from the middle of the
square, a merman calling for silence, cutting through all the ripples
of conversation which rapidly died away as Lenellis rose from her
place and swam up above them, her arms spread wide, tail beating
gently to keep her in place. Anyone who wished to could speak at a
feast, but Lenellis most often took this role as she was a fine
speaker and valued for her wisdom. “We have come here to rejoice
that our reefnest is safe.” She paused for a moment and held up
her hand to stay the cheering that was already starting to erupt.
“We honor the foresight of Wenesh who sensed the danger and
trusted her instincts, we honor the steadiness and clear thinking of
Meseema who organized the defense and held the group together so they
could stand their ground until the rest of us arrived, and we honor
the swiftness of Salandra to bring us the warning in time.” As she
named each, she gestured to them and they swam up to stand beside her
as those below cheered and waved colorful streamers of seaweed.
Lenellis paused looking over the gathering before continuing. “But
most of all we honor the courage and endurance of Oshana. It was her
daring and perseverance in penetrating to the center of the school of
herring and fighting back out so that the truth could be known that
we have most to thank for the fact that we are still here today.”
She lowered her hand as Oshana came to
join the others and the watchers were finally free to give vent to
their exuberant joy and she could feel the very water vibrate with
the volume of their cries, the blowing of horns, and, especially, the
deep rolling calls of the mermen. Oshana felt herself shiver with
the profoundness of the honor given her. Being recognized as a
savior of home and people was one of the very highest forms of social
blessing a mermaid could receive, that many did not receive even in
an entire lifetime. The space below her was a riot of motion and she
felt slightly dizzy when she looked down at it, especially combined
with the pulsing of sound in the water and the wild sense of elation
surging through her. With all the waving hands and the many colored
pennants of seaweed arcing back and forth made the square below her
look like a heaving rainbow, rippling rapidly so, for a moment, she
could see no individuals, only the motion and she felt the waves of
their admiration washing over her like caressing waves of warm water
near the surface on a calm day. But gradually, she became aware of
an incongruous movement at one of the round tables that did not wave
back and forth like the others. It took her a few more seconds to
realize it was one of the mermaids rising and swimming up to them and
a few moments more to recognize the tawny hair, sandy orange tail and
especially elaborate jewelry of her future bond mother.
As they were still cheering, Menenda
came up close beside her. Raising a hand, she gradually stilled the
cheering, claiming her turn to speak. “Oshana, the courage, quick
thinking, and perseverance you showed mark you as more than fit to be
counted as a woman,” she said graciously but with a warm undertone
that Oshana had never heard Menenda use towards her before. Her
heart leaped wildly within her, hardly daring to hope, sure the older
woman could not really mean what Oshana so desperately wanted her to
mean. “The services you have rendered here are worth far more to
me, and to all of us, than any amount of trinkets scavenged from the
ruins and so, as of today, I am proud to officially call you bond
daughter.” Oshana felt faint with joy as the salt crystals oozed
from her eyes and scarcely remembered to bow her head as Menenda
slipped a garland of shining pearls and shells around her neck as a
betrothal gift. She saw her friends, her parents, the entire
community watching her, thrilled by her great good fortune. And then
she forget everything else, all thought swallowed up in the swelling
surge that was Wendaro's song of euphoria, so close she felt she
could almost touch it. He must have ridden up here along with
Salandra to reach her so quickly at this moment. The crystal notes
rang out making all the water vibrate with the strength of his love
as she saw him hover briefly before her then vanish, as he darted
around behind her, followed by a wonderful prickling sensation as he
curled against the base of her spine where soon they would be joined,
never more to be apart.
©Amanda RR Hamlin 2025
