THE WHITE QUEEN
BEYOND ENDLESS TIDES
NOVELLA 1
Here is the Glossary for all Beyond Endless Tides novellas.
She could feel the many eyes, of her Inyarl Shawl, on her back, piercing and burning, willing her on.
‘Move forwards,’ one of her onlookers urged, ‘you have to get closer.’
She didn’t want to. She wanted none of this. Tamur was back there and, Orn, and Haspur. To think they wanted her to do this filled her with a sense of unease; her haspur more than the others. Her body had been ready for mating a whole revolution of the soltaire, and Leader Lyon had wanted her put to an nghoza male sooner but her haspur had refused.
Was she supposed to be grateful? She thought of her haspur back there. Here she was his little mur and all he wanted to do was watch. Watch as she gave herself over to the nghoza and let him poison her with his life-giving formula. The thought made her stomach constrict.
She couldn’t do this, wouldn’t.
Moving her arms Morg backed away. Her tail was a hindrance in these shallow waters. It brushed loose stone, making manoeuvring difficult. When she was back far enough, she whipped her tail, turned and swam to the others. They’d be upset with her but they’d have to get over it.
Kerene, with her bright glowing green eyes and deep red flowing hair met her half way. She held a look of pure disgust and knocked into Morg as they past, ramming her with her tail, which caught her ribs.
Morg flicked her tail to return the favour but Kerene was out of reach.
She stopped. By keeping her tail moving she could hover, still as stone. Many faces watched her. She ignored them, unwilling to face them and turned.
Kerene moved up into the shallows. None of them knew the nghoza tongue but that didn’t matter. Kerene had him entranced. Nghozas were dumb, always curious. When she was done with him, he’d be killed. Stupid nghoza, you don’t realise the danger you’re in.
His legs appeared in the water and he moved towards Kerene. It looked as though she’d cast some magic but he wasn’t under any spell, and she didn’t possess the skill even if she wanted to. Only the ancient Muird had known magic and they’d been gone for like for ever. Some said their magic had consumed them and taken them away. Other tales told how they’d left the oceans for the land and without their magic this was the only way everyone else could do the same.
Her tamur and haspur had told her of the big changes of Vast Ocean, where soon all her kin would be gone, none would survive. Leader Lyon didn’t want them to die out along with other species or other asperini. He wanted them to live on and if that meant living on land, so be it.
She shook the thought from her mind. Kerene was lying with her face looking up at the yellow dots in the darkness. Her dugs, just forming, looked flat, almost invisible the way she laid. The tip of her tail fanned out behind the nghoza’s legs. She’d never noticed before but the patterning on the side of Kerene’s tail formed into a flattened circle, like the shape of an nghoza eye. It seemed to be watching Morg, leering. The nghoza lifted her tail at its centre, moved closer and entered her.
She couldn’t watch; didn’t want to. The grunts from the nghoza and Kerene’s moans were gruelling enough.
It was wrong, all wrong. Two porene appeared at Morg’s flanks, they hovered in silence, waiting. Both were armoured with sword fish bill in hand. Each as long as their torso, were pointed upwards and outwards. Neither poren looked at Morg. Their gaze was kept ahead.
She looked up at the eyes of the one on her left, his face was passive. He was neither disgusted nor excited by what was taking place. He was ready though ready to take the nghoza away.
Kerene let out a screech. It was done. As one the two porene moved away from her. The rush of their tails sent water into an effervescing wall, which forced her backwards. She steadied herself as Kerene swam through the oxygen balls, headed straight for her.
‘See, nothing to it,’ she said, changing course at the last minute. This time no tail jibed at her sides.
It was time to face whatever fate they had planned for her. She turned and swam after Kerene.
Will they give her a second chance? Did she want it if they did? No.
Leader Lyan was ahead of the fifty asperini, hovering before her. The lomza’s rays shone on all faces and torsos, giving them a monaika-like tinge. Their stares said it all. Some held questioning looks, whilst others showed disappointment. The rest, the younger ones, were caught somewhere between shock and awe. All of these were murs, for no spurs had been allowed to come. Most of their ribcages showed, which was a sign they were ready for another growth spout. Their dugs, just beginning to form, were at different stages of development, whilst others dwarfed her own even though those murs were younger.
Leader Lyon looked at her. Face full of scorn, disappointment and resentment, softened.
‘You did well, Morg,’ he said, ‘I miss judged you thinking you were ready. You will try again.’
She sighed. ‘There won’t be another try, not for me.’
‘Yes there will and next time you will succeed.’
‘No,’ is all she said. She wanted to say more and ask what would happen when they did get on land to find they couldn’t communicate with the nghozas. Had he thought about that? No, it was obvious he hadn’t. She knew better though, she was in enough trouble as it was, any more from her loose tongue and who knew what he might do.
Leader Lyon grumbled and he looked off to one side. For a few moments he said nothing more, then his head snapped back and he looked over her right shoulder. He gestured into the air with his un-armoured hand. Signals she’d seen him use before to his guards whenever he wanted them to do something and silence was of the utmost importance. She twisted her tail and spun her body round. Had something gone wrong?
The two who’d gone off were on their way back, sword bill weapons at the ready. The blood of the nghoza’s body would attract many unwanted guests, and they’d all better be scarce before they showed.
A hand gripped her left arm and then another, two strong hands, which held her tight. Two more gripped at her right. Before she could ask what they thought they were doing she was pulled backwards. She’d angered their leader and now he was going to punish her.
Not here, not now, no, when the soltaire rose next and after he’d had a good sleep. Not that she’d be getting any. No this was her part punishment and she was destined for confinement.
Why did she have to open her mouth? Why not just keep quiet. Then plead, Haspur, to get her away from here with, Tamur and Orn. If only she’d thought of this sooner. Too late now, she’d have to forsake her sleep and make her plea after the rising of the soltaire.
Where were they anyway? They should be here telling her how stupid she’d been or at least trying to get her out of this mess. Was this their way to punish her too, to remind her of her duty?
Being pulled along at the back of the group, she craned her neck, hoping to get a glimpse of her tamur or haspur. Amongst the myriad of tails, theirs were nowhere to be seen. She could see Leader Lyon, with his unmistakeable scar, running almost the length of his green-blue tail, swimming just inside the head of the shawl. Two of his best warriors were just ahead and to each flank, watching, scouring for any hazards.
Neither her tamur nor her haspur was with him. Perhaps they were waiting till they got her to Finyarn before they intervened. Yes, this was their little game, make her feel scared and then next time maybe she’d do what was expected. They’d get her out of the confinement bit, wouldn’t they? There was no way she deserved that.
The darkness of the cave made it hard to see anything. The only way she knew all were asleep was when the current around her changed. The many tails affecting its flow had ceased. Added with the lack of motion sounds she knew they were resting on the caves’ floor, sleeping. No other fish came to Finyarn, none were allowed passage. Even the ghanzi were kept out.
Tired though she was, she tested the metal bars for the umpteenth time, looking for just the slightest hint of weakness. Nothing. The cage was big enough to hold thirty and it was tiresome work swimming its perimeter. Her eyelids were heavy. She let herself sink. The bottom of the cage was laden with sharp shells, they dug into her body as she relaxed, springing her senses to life.
She flipped her tail, lifted off the shells and swam upwards. Her hands reached for the cage’s top bars. Soon she had one firmly in her grasp, and relaxed. It’d let her tail muscles rest if nothing else.
Sleep wouldn’t come easy, if it came at all.
Half sleeping half-awake something sharp jabbed her stomach. Her eyes sprang open to darkness. She’d relaxed too much and drifted to the bottom of the cage. She swam around, keeping herself as mobile as she could.
‘Morg,’ she heard a whisper. ‘Morg,’ it was Orn. He was somewhere above her, she swam up. When she felt the bars she called his name.
‘I’m over here.’
Using her hands, she worked her way towards his voice. Soon her fingertips touched the skin of his chest as he lay above the cage. ‘What are you doing here? You’ll get into trouble,’ she said full of concern in her big vamur tone.
‘That doesn’t matter. I didn’t like to think of you on your own.’
In the darkness she could only picture his soft face and slim, toned torso and long deep-blue tail, which he got from their tamur. Her own was a mix from both merlots, and had a soft-purple tinge.
‘I’m glad you came, just don’t get caught. If anyone finds you here...’ she yawned, her eyes blinked.
‘I know, I know, I’ll get hidden if anyone comes. Now you need to sleep,’ she felt his hands slide down her forearms. ‘I’ll hold you up. I know what lay at the bottom of the cage, I helped put them there. Haspur’s idea not mine.’
‘So now you feel guilty, ‘cause it’s your big vamur in here.’
‘Hey, it’s not like I wanted to do it. Besides, we haven’t used this cage in at least a revolve of the soltaire and the last poren in here deserved it as I remember.’
He’d killed his own remur, just so she wouldn’t be put to an nghoza. A shiver ran through her at the memory. He’d been found with his throat open the next soltaire up, having dug the sharps from the cage’s floor. He was a weak poren, one who, according to many, didn’t deserve a place among the Inyarl Shawl.
‘Thanks for reminding me.’
‘Sorry, I just can’t forget him, you know. And I worry about our haspur, he doesn’t like that they want you to mate with an nghoza and I’m afraid for him.’
She blinked again and with a yawn said, ‘Our haspur is clever, he won’t suffer the same fate. You’ll see.’
‘I’m sure you are right. Now go to sleep, you need it.’
At his words she closed her eyes and drifted, dreaming of a world free of nghoza matings, a carefree world where all asperini lived safe within Vast Ocean. She’d drifted off many times and dreamt of this world, the world she knew would come, somehow, yet something inside said there was much to do, much to change, much more hurt to be had, before such a world could ever exist.
The soltaire was lowering and the lomza was making its presence felt when they came for her. The light change at the mouth of Finyarn told her this. Orn had woken and left her whilst the mouth was still blued with lomza light. Her haspur and others had brought her shinklers to feed on since soltaire up, and Orn even found her a few Wergums, a very rare treat outside Finyarn.
Many voices spoke at once as the locking mechanism, scavenged from a fallen nghoza ship which had kept her captive, clonked open. This was it, they’d left her to stew and now they were to show her, her punishment. Her reprimand for not mating with the nghoza. Let them. What was the worst they could do? Shout at her and make her feel inferior to the rest? Keep her locked away for eternity? Banish her from the shawl? Yes this was the worst, but she’d rather it than let an nghoza infect her with his reproductive poison.
The cage opening’s rusted hinges creaked and groaned as it swung outwards. The noise was a harrowing sound, as was intended. She ignored it, truth was she knew Leader Lyon would shout at her and it’d be the end of the matter. She’d go back to living with Haspur, Tamur and Orn. She dived and made her way towards the opening, she’d passed it often enough to know its exact location in the dark.
As she slid out the half opened cage door, two hands grabbed either arm and pulled her upwards. They held her tight and constricting as if tentacles had caught her and were pulling her in towards an opened mouth. Their grip hurt. She let out a yell. The restriction relaxed and they held her like her haspur would in play. After a few strokes the two porene stopped and hovered.
Leader Lyons voice spoke, he was right there, in front of her, so close she tasted Wergum within the water before her face. ‘Now you will learn why you do not ever disobey me.’ He sounded angry, annoyed and even terrifying. She ignored him, this was only an enactment, his way of making an example of her, whilst showing the Inyarl Shawl why he was leader, re-affirming their belief in him and showing them he still had what it took to be in his position. The water shifted and with a dulled voice he said, ‘Come, she won’t do it of her own accord so we’ll have to make her.’
What? No he wouldn’t, couldn’t do this. ‘Haspur!’ No reply came. In fact no sound came from anyone; no cries of outrage, or pleas in her defence. She struggled for freedom, the hands only held her tighter, not hurting but enough to stop her getting loose. ‘Haspur.’ She tried again to shake the hands that bound her. Again they tightened, again with no pain.
This went on all the way to the mouth of Finyarn and beyond. Every now and then, the hands would grip a little more and she’d yell and they’d ease.
Close to the shore they stopped and hovered. They’d brought her to the same place she’d witnessed Kerene with the nghoza male. Out of the water a lone nghoza male walked the land, his form danced as she watched him through the water. All of the Inyarl Shawl had come, even the spurs and ligphurs who’d been denied before.
‘Take her to him and hold her but stay out of sight.’ Leader Lyon spoke sounding merciless in his order.
The two porene said nothing, neither had made eye contact with her and now their eyes were downcast, ahead of them.
‘What are you waiting for?’ boomed Leader Lyon. ‘An invitation to feast with the nghoza? Get on with it.’
‘They won’t—,’ her haspur spoke for the first time but was cut off.
‘I’ll do it,’ another said. She recognised the voice of Ooyun, her haspur’s closest friend. She felt movement in the water and imagined him coming forwards, his round face with deep set eyes and hair, full length, flowing behind, brushing at his deep-purple tail, with patterning of coalescing circles, which grew smaller the nearer they got to his tail’s tip and broke off into fin shapes.
The hands on her arms dropped and a Ooyun grabbed her from behind and pulled her to him, flattening her back to his chest. She felt the bodanza tooth he always wore around his neck, rub between her shoulder blades, his tough thick chest muscles felt hard against the back of both shoulders and knew she couldn’t resist him, even though she wanted to.
How could you? She let him take her forwards. You’re Haspur’s friend and I trusted you.
When they were close to the edge of the ocean, yet not close enough for swimming to become awkward, Ooyun spoke in her ear, so gentle and caring, she didn’t think it was him at first. ‘Morg, what he is doing is wrong. OK if the ligphurs do so because they believe we must, but this… this is not right. You don’t deserve this treatment and none of us close to your haspur wanted this, or could allow this to happen to you. We’d fight him for you, but you know we are bound by oath to our leader.’
A stupid law, the oaths they took. She wanted to tell him but thought better of it. It was his, as every other porene’s, choice to be ruled.
‘Struggle a little and flip your tail as if you’re trying to escape.’
She thrashed about but Ooyun’s hold was secure. ‘Good, this far away we won’t draw attention to the nghoza. Now, I’m going to put my arm in front of you so it looks like I’m trying to control you, when I do, bite it, bite it hard. Don’t worry about hurting me, use the anger you must feel for Leader Lyon if you have to, but bite. And when I let you go, swim as fast as you can, none of us will follow, not right away, we will act stunned first which shall give you the advantage. For now swim with no concern for where. Your haspur said you should go to Trin, you should remember how to get there if you think back. It is the place where grey badonzas feast and is oot of Finyarn by two soltaire ups.’
His arm came close to her mouth and pressed her lips giving her no choice but to open her jaw clasp with her teeth. She found a new fondness for him he was doing the unthinkable in going against Leader Lyon’s instructions. He was truly her haspur’s friend and she could trust him. She bit him, but only enough to cut. Something slapped the back of her head, forcing her to clamp her jaw harder. Ooyun yelled, losing his grip on her, she twisted and swam out of his grasp.
And she didn’t stop swimming till the hunger took her and she was forced to take refuge. She found the wreckage of an old nghoza ship, not long fallen from the surface. She gave it a wide birth. Not far from it was a rocky incline, at the base of which lay a cluster of fallen rock. She headed there. It offered no protection from above and if a predator came by she would undoubtedly be seen. She didn’t care. She’d rather risk being eaten than take sanctuary within an unwanted gift from the nghozas.
As she settled to rest she felt a sense of sorrow, never again would she be a part of the Inyarl Shawl, not while they practiced the stomach retching nghoza mating thing.
Her body shivered at the thought.
Soon I’ll be fully grown and once I’ve found a suitable poren like Haspur. I’ll go back and there’ll be no more of this stupid nghoza ritual.
She closed her eyes and drifted to a dreamless sleep.
She could feel the many eyes, of her Inyarl Shawl, on her back, piercing and burning, willing her on.
‘Move forwards,’ one of her onlookers urged, ‘you have to get closer.’
She didn’t want to. She wanted none of this. Tamur was back there and, Orn, and Haspur. To think they wanted her to do this filled her with a sense of unease; her haspur more than the others. Her body had been ready for mating a whole revolution of the soltaire, and Leader Lyon had wanted her put to an nghoza male sooner but her haspur had refused.
Was she supposed to be grateful? She thought of her haspur back there. Here she was his little mur and all he wanted to do was watch. Watch as she gave herself over to the nghoza and let him poison her with his life-giving formula. The thought made her stomach constrict.
She couldn’t do this, wouldn’t.
Moving her arms Morg backed away. Her tail was a hindrance in these shallow waters. It brushed loose stone, making manoeuvring difficult. When she was back far enough, she whipped her tail, turned and swam to the others. They’d be upset with her but they’d have to get over it.
Kerene, with her bright glowing green eyes and deep red flowing hair met her half way. She held a look of pure disgust and knocked into Morg as they past, ramming her with her tail, which caught her ribs.
Morg flicked her tail to return the favour but Kerene was out of reach.
She stopped. By keeping her tail moving she could hover, still as stone. Many faces watched her. She ignored them, unwilling to face them and turned.
Kerene moved up into the shallows. None of them knew the nghoza tongue but that didn’t matter. Kerene had him entranced. Nghozas were dumb, always curious. When she was done with him, he’d be killed. Stupid nghoza, you don’t realise the danger you’re in.
His legs appeared in the water and he moved towards Kerene. It looked as though she’d cast some magic but he wasn’t under any spell, and she didn’t possess the skill even if she wanted to. Only the ancient Muird had known magic and they’d been gone for like for ever. Some said their magic had consumed them and taken them away. Other tales told how they’d left the oceans for the land and without their magic this was the only way everyone else could do the same.
Her tamur and haspur had told her of the big changes of Vast Ocean, where soon all her kin would be gone, none would survive. Leader Lyon didn’t want them to die out along with other species or other asperini. He wanted them to live on and if that meant living on land, so be it.
She shook the thought from her mind. Kerene was lying with her face looking up at the yellow dots in the darkness. Her dugs, just forming, looked flat, almost invisible the way she laid. The tip of her tail fanned out behind the nghoza’s legs. She’d never noticed before but the patterning on the side of Kerene’s tail formed into a flattened circle, like the shape of an nghoza eye. It seemed to be watching Morg, leering. The nghoza lifted her tail at its centre, moved closer and entered her.
She couldn’t watch; didn’t want to. The grunts from the nghoza and Kerene’s moans were gruelling enough.
It was wrong, all wrong. Two porene appeared at Morg’s flanks, they hovered in silence, waiting. Both were armoured with sword fish bill in hand. Each as long as their torso, were pointed upwards and outwards. Neither poren looked at Morg. Their gaze was kept ahead.
She looked up at the eyes of the one on her left, his face was passive. He was neither disgusted nor excited by what was taking place. He was ready though ready to take the nghoza away.
Kerene let out a screech. It was done. As one the two porene moved away from her. The rush of their tails sent water into an effervescing wall, which forced her backwards. She steadied herself as Kerene swam through the oxygen balls, headed straight for her.
‘See, nothing to it,’ she said, changing course at the last minute. This time no tail jibed at her sides.
It was time to face whatever fate they had planned for her. She turned and swam after Kerene.
Will they give her a second chance? Did she want it if they did? No.
Leader Lyan was ahead of the fifty asperini, hovering before her. The lomza’s rays shone on all faces and torsos, giving them a monaika-like tinge. Their stares said it all. Some held questioning looks, whilst others showed disappointment. The rest, the younger ones, were caught somewhere between shock and awe. All of these were murs, for no spurs had been allowed to come. Most of their ribcages showed, which was a sign they were ready for another growth spout. Their dugs, just beginning to form, were at different stages of development, whilst others dwarfed her own even though those murs were younger.
Leader Lyon looked at her. Face full of scorn, disappointment and resentment, softened.
‘You did well, Morg,’ he said, ‘I miss judged you thinking you were ready. You will try again.’
She sighed. ‘There won’t be another try, not for me.’
‘Yes there will and next time you will succeed.’
‘No,’ is all she said. She wanted to say more and ask what would happen when they did get on land to find they couldn’t communicate with the nghozas. Had he thought about that? No, it was obvious he hadn’t. She knew better though, she was in enough trouble as it was, any more from her loose tongue and who knew what he might do.
Leader Lyon grumbled and he looked off to one side. For a few moments he said nothing more, then his head snapped back and he looked over her right shoulder. He gestured into the air with his un-armoured hand. Signals she’d seen him use before to his guards whenever he wanted them to do something and silence was of the utmost importance. She twisted her tail and spun her body round. Had something gone wrong?
The two who’d gone off were on their way back, sword bill weapons at the ready. The blood of the nghoza’s body would attract many unwanted guests, and they’d all better be scarce before they showed.
A hand gripped her left arm and then another, two strong hands, which held her tight. Two more gripped at her right. Before she could ask what they thought they were doing she was pulled backwards. She’d angered their leader and now he was going to punish her.
Not here, not now, no, when the soltaire rose next and after he’d had a good sleep. Not that she’d be getting any. No this was her part punishment and she was destined for confinement.
Why did she have to open her mouth? Why not just keep quiet. Then plead, Haspur, to get her away from here with, Tamur and Orn. If only she’d thought of this sooner. Too late now, she’d have to forsake her sleep and make her plea after the rising of the soltaire.
Where were they anyway? They should be here telling her how stupid she’d been or at least trying to get her out of this mess. Was this their way to punish her too, to remind her of her duty?
Being pulled along at the back of the group, she craned her neck, hoping to get a glimpse of her tamur or haspur. Amongst the myriad of tails, theirs were nowhere to be seen. She could see Leader Lyon, with his unmistakeable scar, running almost the length of his green-blue tail, swimming just inside the head of the shawl. Two of his best warriors were just ahead and to each flank, watching, scouring for any hazards.
Neither her tamur nor her haspur was with him. Perhaps they were waiting till they got her to Finyarn before they intervened. Yes, this was their little game, make her feel scared and then next time maybe she’d do what was expected. They’d get her out of the confinement bit, wouldn’t they? There was no way she deserved that.
The darkness of the cave made it hard to see anything. The only way she knew all were asleep was when the current around her changed. The many tails affecting its flow had ceased. Added with the lack of motion sounds she knew they were resting on the caves’ floor, sleeping. No other fish came to Finyarn, none were allowed passage. Even the ghanzi were kept out.
Tired though she was, she tested the metal bars for the umpteenth time, looking for just the slightest hint of weakness. Nothing. The cage was big enough to hold thirty and it was tiresome work swimming its perimeter. Her eyelids were heavy. She let herself sink. The bottom of the cage was laden with sharp shells, they dug into her body as she relaxed, springing her senses to life.
She flipped her tail, lifted off the shells and swam upwards. Her hands reached for the cage’s top bars. Soon she had one firmly in her grasp, and relaxed. It’d let her tail muscles rest if nothing else.
Sleep wouldn’t come easy, if it came at all.
Half sleeping half-awake something sharp jabbed her stomach. Her eyes sprang open to darkness. She’d relaxed too much and drifted to the bottom of the cage. She swam around, keeping herself as mobile as she could.
‘Morg,’ she heard a whisper. ‘Morg,’ it was Orn. He was somewhere above her, she swam up. When she felt the bars she called his name.
‘I’m over here.’
Using her hands, she worked her way towards his voice. Soon her fingertips touched the skin of his chest as he lay above the cage. ‘What are you doing here? You’ll get into trouble,’ she said full of concern in her big vamur tone.
‘That doesn’t matter. I didn’t like to think of you on your own.’
In the darkness she could only picture his soft face and slim, toned torso and long deep-blue tail, which he got from their tamur. Her own was a mix from both merlots, and had a soft-purple tinge.
‘I’m glad you came, just don’t get caught. If anyone finds you here...’ she yawned, her eyes blinked.
‘I know, I know, I’ll get hidden if anyone comes. Now you need to sleep,’ she felt his hands slide down her forearms. ‘I’ll hold you up. I know what lay at the bottom of the cage, I helped put them there. Haspur’s idea not mine.’
‘So now you feel guilty, ‘cause it’s your big vamur in here.’
‘Hey, it’s not like I wanted to do it. Besides, we haven’t used this cage in at least a revolve of the soltaire and the last poren in here deserved it as I remember.’
He’d killed his own remur, just so she wouldn’t be put to an nghoza. A shiver ran through her at the memory. He’d been found with his throat open the next soltaire up, having dug the sharps from the cage’s floor. He was a weak poren, one who, according to many, didn’t deserve a place among the Inyarl Shawl.
‘Thanks for reminding me.’
‘Sorry, I just can’t forget him, you know. And I worry about our haspur, he doesn’t like that they want you to mate with an nghoza and I’m afraid for him.’
She blinked again and with a yawn said, ‘Our haspur is clever, he won’t suffer the same fate. You’ll see.’
‘I’m sure you are right. Now go to sleep, you need it.’
At his words she closed her eyes and drifted, dreaming of a world free of nghoza matings, a carefree world where all asperini lived safe within Vast Ocean. She’d drifted off many times and dreamt of this world, the world she knew would come, somehow, yet something inside said there was much to do, much to change, much more hurt to be had, before such a world could ever exist.
The soltaire was lowering and the lomza was making its presence felt when they came for her. The light change at the mouth of Finyarn told her this. Orn had woken and left her whilst the mouth was still blued with lomza light. Her haspur and others had brought her shinklers to feed on since soltaire up, and Orn even found her a few Wergums, a very rare treat outside Finyarn.
Many voices spoke at once as the locking mechanism, scavenged from a fallen nghoza ship which had kept her captive, clonked open. This was it, they’d left her to stew and now they were to show her, her punishment. Her reprimand for not mating with the nghoza. Let them. What was the worst they could do? Shout at her and make her feel inferior to the rest? Keep her locked away for eternity? Banish her from the shawl? Yes this was the worst, but she’d rather it than let an nghoza infect her with his reproductive poison.
The cage opening’s rusted hinges creaked and groaned as it swung outwards. The noise was a harrowing sound, as was intended. She ignored it, truth was she knew Leader Lyon would shout at her and it’d be the end of the matter. She’d go back to living with Haspur, Tamur and Orn. She dived and made her way towards the opening, she’d passed it often enough to know its exact location in the dark.
As she slid out the half opened cage door, two hands grabbed either arm and pulled her upwards. They held her tight and constricting as if tentacles had caught her and were pulling her in towards an opened mouth. Their grip hurt. She let out a yell. The restriction relaxed and they held her like her haspur would in play. After a few strokes the two porene stopped and hovered.
Leader Lyons voice spoke, he was right there, in front of her, so close she tasted Wergum within the water before her face. ‘Now you will learn why you do not ever disobey me.’ He sounded angry, annoyed and even terrifying. She ignored him, this was only an enactment, his way of making an example of her, whilst showing the Inyarl Shawl why he was leader, re-affirming their belief in him and showing them he still had what it took to be in his position. The water shifted and with a dulled voice he said, ‘Come, she won’t do it of her own accord so we’ll have to make her.’
What? No he wouldn’t, couldn’t do this. ‘Haspur!’ No reply came. In fact no sound came from anyone; no cries of outrage, or pleas in her defence. She struggled for freedom, the hands only held her tighter, not hurting but enough to stop her getting loose. ‘Haspur.’ She tried again to shake the hands that bound her. Again they tightened, again with no pain.
This went on all the way to the mouth of Finyarn and beyond. Every now and then, the hands would grip a little more and she’d yell and they’d ease.
Close to the shore they stopped and hovered. They’d brought her to the same place she’d witnessed Kerene with the nghoza male. Out of the water a lone nghoza male walked the land, his form danced as she watched him through the water. All of the Inyarl Shawl had come, even the spurs and ligphurs who’d been denied before.
‘Take her to him and hold her but stay out of sight.’ Leader Lyon spoke sounding merciless in his order.
The two porene said nothing, neither had made eye contact with her and now their eyes were downcast, ahead of them.
‘What are you waiting for?’ boomed Leader Lyon. ‘An invitation to feast with the nghoza? Get on with it.’
‘They won’t—,’ her haspur spoke for the first time but was cut off.
‘I’ll do it,’ another said. She recognised the voice of Ooyun, her haspur’s closest friend. She felt movement in the water and imagined him coming forwards, his round face with deep set eyes and hair, full length, flowing behind, brushing at his deep-purple tail, with patterning of coalescing circles, which grew smaller the nearer they got to his tail’s tip and broke off into fin shapes.
The hands on her arms dropped and a Ooyun grabbed her from behind and pulled her to him, flattening her back to his chest. She felt the bodanza tooth he always wore around his neck, rub between her shoulder blades, his tough thick chest muscles felt hard against the back of both shoulders and knew she couldn’t resist him, even though she wanted to.
How could you? She let him take her forwards. You’re Haspur’s friend and I trusted you.
When they were close to the edge of the ocean, yet not close enough for swimming to become awkward, Ooyun spoke in her ear, so gentle and caring, she didn’t think it was him at first. ‘Morg, what he is doing is wrong. OK if the ligphurs do so because they believe we must, but this… this is not right. You don’t deserve this treatment and none of us close to your haspur wanted this, or could allow this to happen to you. We’d fight him for you, but you know we are bound by oath to our leader.’
A stupid law, the oaths they took. She wanted to tell him but thought better of it. It was his, as every other porene’s, choice to be ruled.
‘Struggle a little and flip your tail as if you’re trying to escape.’
She thrashed about but Ooyun’s hold was secure. ‘Good, this far away we won’t draw attention to the nghoza. Now, I’m going to put my arm in front of you so it looks like I’m trying to control you, when I do, bite it, bite it hard. Don’t worry about hurting me, use the anger you must feel for Leader Lyon if you have to, but bite. And when I let you go, swim as fast as you can, none of us will follow, not right away, we will act stunned first which shall give you the advantage. For now swim with no concern for where. Your haspur said you should go to Trin, you should remember how to get there if you think back. It is the place where grey badonzas feast and is oot of Finyarn by two soltaire ups.’
His arm came close to her mouth and pressed her lips giving her no choice but to open her jaw clasp with her teeth. She found a new fondness for him he was doing the unthinkable in going against Leader Lyon’s instructions. He was truly her haspur’s friend and she could trust him. She bit him, but only enough to cut. Something slapped the back of her head, forcing her to clamp her jaw harder. Ooyun yelled, losing his grip on her, she twisted and swam out of his grasp.
And she didn’t stop swimming till the hunger took her and she was forced to take refuge. She found the wreckage of an old nghoza ship, not long fallen from the surface. She gave it a wide birth. Not far from it was a rocky incline, at the base of which lay a cluster of fallen rock. She headed there. It offered no protection from above and if a predator came by she would undoubtedly be seen. She didn’t care. She’d rather risk being eaten than take sanctuary within an unwanted gift from the nghozas.
As she settled to rest she felt a sense of sorrow, never again would she be a part of the Inyarl Shawl, not while they practiced the stomach retching nghoza mating thing.
Her body shivered at the thought.
Soon I’ll be fully grown and once I’ve found a suitable poren like Haspur. I’ll go back and there’ll be no more of this stupid nghoza ritual.
She closed her eyes and drifted to a dreamless sleep.
Another from later in the novella
Tired and exhausted they let the current within a crevice in the ocean floor carry them. Stiff Water was looming. They had almost reached their destination. The water here was cold and chilling, her body was beginning to feel stiff to move and the ends of her digits felt numb and swollen.
It had taken four new lomzas but they’d finally made it. Somewhere ahead badonzas called to one another, the worst of all badonzas, Kacktoza, their white band around black surround, struck fear in the hearts of all. Ethos hadn’t spoken of the last moment they’d seen Salphin.
He’d kept himself busy keeping them alive, hunting and finding them shelter for the dark.
They swam on in silence. Ethos, by her side turned to face her. His hands were vibrating with the colder water.
‘We need more food, Morg,’ he said through chattering lips, ‘More than we’ve eaten before. I’ll find it for us, you keep look out.’ Ethos handed her the bill he’d kept since they left Trin and swam off, sifting the ocean floor as he went. She clutched the bill to her chest, unsure exactly how it should be held. Her numbed hands found it hard to wrap around the shaft making it hard to keep a firm grip, added to this bits flaked under her palm, so it was forever shifting.
Light reflected through Stiff Water and she could see farther than ever before. Not a lot moved between them and the white wall. High up near the surface, dark figures entered the water, small wadzanas. They swam in their direction, keeping high. They’d be looking for the schools of fish they’d hunted last soltaire up. Other larger wadzanas were working their way from the left towards Stiff Water. With it reached they swam up and broke the ocean surface.
Stiff Water was so big a hundred Gorzinias in a line wouldn’t reach from one end to the other. It drew her eyes and the more she looked, the more it changed its colour, from white to blue. A stretch of ocean floor ran around its base. Before that was a deep gulley, an empty blackness fifty strokes across which disappeared around both ends of Stiff Water. Ethos had stopped on the fringes of the gulley, only his tail was visible. Anything could lurk down there. She gripped the bill tighter.
The Kacktozas called again. This time she saw them, high up near the surface. A large group were gathered. Three were swimming in a tight formation on their sides, creating a mini wall. Chunks broken off from Stiff Water drifted about them. The Kacktoza’s swam in unison, heading straight for one of the chunks. As they passed under, the chunk rocked. Something dark fell into the water. A small group of onlooker Kacktozas swam close by, one broke free and headed at speed to the chunk.
‘Here,’ Ethos handed her a handful of Slugums. She looked at him to thank him but his gaze had followed her own. Without looking at her, he said, ‘they’re hunting and the group outside are watching, looking for any dangers, which is what you’re supposed to be doing for me.’
Morg was about to snap back with a retort, but when she saw the smile he wore she stopped herself. ‘There’s nothing here.’ She bit into the cluster of bodies. They were fatty and juicy.
‘You’re right, but we can’t be too careful.’
‘I know,’ she said taking another bite.
‘Come on, we need more. You can help, but keep your eyes open.’
He didn’t wait for an answer. She ate what was left, whilst scanning above them. Satisfied they wouldn’t be approached, she turned her attention to Ethos.
His torso had vanished as before. She whipped her tail, ready to dive but stopped. Something moved within the dark, headed straight in Ethos’s direction, fast. A round head, half that of Ethos’s, manifested from the gloom, followed by a body running on six thin and rigid pectoral fins. A Conzora.
Before she could get words to form in her mouth it was too late, Ethos was turned over. His patches of white dazzled as he grappled to save himself from being shredded by the sharp points of the Conzora’s fin tips. Two fore limbs had him pinned, whilst the other four kicked at his sides.
Ethos punched with balled fists and thrashed his tail, trying to knock the Conzora off balance.
With other predators you could blind them by poking their eyes, Conzoras had none, had no need for them in the deep. Instead they relied on their heightened hearing. They had small mouths but their teeth could cut through stone. It snapped at Ethos with its long neck. Ethos swayed in avoidance.
She’d never killed anything before, didn’t know how. Gripping the bill in both hands, she dived.
Pointing the bill at the back of the Conzora’s head she swam hard and fast. The tip touched hard skin as the Conzora ducked and snapped again at Ethos. She came about and tried again. The same thing happened, its head moved at the last. Coming in from behind, she stabbed the bill into the base of its neck. It went through soft tissue and poked out the other side. She let go.
The Conzora crawled away, twisting its body away from the bill jutting from its neck. Ethos pushed himself up from his lying position. He came up over the Conzora, grabbed the bill and yanked it free. Then thrust it towards the Conzora’s head. Unable to see the Conzora stood no chance and the bill pushed between the spot where eyes should have been. It stood fast, then leaned and fell, drifting to the ocean floor, kicking its last. The bill, being old and brittle broke.
Another movement came from the depths. Ethos saw it and went straight to it. Before anything appeared, Ethos thrust the bill. It struck something and Ethos let it stay.
Ethos turned and swam at her, snatched her hand and pulled her up. She soon found his rhythm and they didn’t stop till the darkness was fifty strokes below. ‘They may not be able to see, but I’m not willing to take chances,’ he said turning his head. Being high was never a good move, eyes could be watching from anywhere and would spot them from many strokes away. She wanted to protest, but the glint in Ethos’s eyes was enough to quell her worry. He had a look of nonchalance as if he knew the danger but was ready to fend her life if the need arose. She looked up at him in awe: he knew what he was doing and she felt safe.
As he stared down at her his eyes sprang wide. He pulled her near and spun her to hold her from behind. Around them, Conzora’s shot up from the darkness. They swam in straight lines and stopped to hover, some below others above. Where they stopped their movements became minimal, enough only to keep their buoyancy.
What are you doing ethos? Get us out of here.
She wriggled her tail in an attempt to force him to move. He held her tighter and placed hand over her mouth. Looking at him through the corner of her eye she saw he was looking at her with the same calm even eyes and said nothing. With as little movement as he could he shook his head. He was telling her they shouldn’t move. They were doomed without a weapon and her stomach constricted as if her intestinal tubing were tying itself in knots.
Moving only her eyes she saw why he was being so cautious. The Conzora, were craning their heads, studying and listening. Or were they trying to pick up on any vibrations in the water like zerlini’s did. She should call them now, she wanted them here.
At the back of her tail, she felt Ethos’s push hers and in slow steady movements they swam higher. Her heart thumped within her chest, Ethos’s against her back. Below a Conzora’s head snapped in their direction. She kicked harder, forcing Ethos to work with her. The Conzora let out a high pitched yelp and three roundabout it moved to its flanks. They came up with astonishing speed, signalling their whereabouts by calling to others.
Ethos pulled on her chest, arching her body backwards. They avoided two coming at them from ahead. A head and neck lunged at her, snapping close to her eyes.
Ethos moved them in all directions as they meandered a way through the bodies of attacking Conzora predators. Without thought they made for Stiff Water. She could sense his moves somehow and every time he changed course, she went with him.
Moving together as one allowed them to swim faster and they’d outswim any number Conzora’s. Getting through them though was more difficult as the bulkiness made it awkward to make the sharper turns needed to evade snapping jaws.
Water rushed at the tip of her tail as the Conzora snapped from behind. Ethos was skilled and stronger then he looked, he kept them moving, darting them here and there in evasive manoeuvers. Two groups of four lay ahead and Ethos took them upwards.
They were high enough she was sure, but as they swam over the last Conzora in their path, one let out a yelp.
A jaw latched to the tip of her tail. It held her back. Ethos overshot her and released her from his grip. Pain shot up from her tail’s tip, like bill points stabbing her in progression. Ethos came about and with no thought to himself, punched the Conzora hard on its temple. The jaws’ grip tightened, sending a spasm of pain through her body. Ethos struck again and again the jaws clasped together. The pain was so excruciating she just wanted this thing off and when Ethos struck a third time, the jaws snapped shut, ripping a chunk from her.
With its yelp the Conzora had attracted more, four of them were coming to their exact position. ‘Get out of here,’ Ethos said putting himself between the approaching Conzora and her. He took on a hovering stance, readying himself for a fray.
‘No, Ethos, they’ll kill you without a bill.’
‘I’ll be OK, now go. Find the White Queen. There’s a tunnel entrance at the foot of Stiff Water, just head down from here and you’ll find it.’
‘So that’s it. Bring me all this way and—,’ There was no time for this, she hadn’t come all this way just to say goodbye at the last. With aching tail tip she moved towards Ethos and threw an arm over his shoulder and pulled him away. ‘Whatever happens, we go together. Now get behind me and help me to find the White Queen as you promised.’
It had taken four new lomzas but they’d finally made it. Somewhere ahead badonzas called to one another, the worst of all badonzas, Kacktoza, their white band around black surround, struck fear in the hearts of all. Ethos hadn’t spoken of the last moment they’d seen Salphin.
He’d kept himself busy keeping them alive, hunting and finding them shelter for the dark.
They swam on in silence. Ethos, by her side turned to face her. His hands were vibrating with the colder water.
‘We need more food, Morg,’ he said through chattering lips, ‘More than we’ve eaten before. I’ll find it for us, you keep look out.’ Ethos handed her the bill he’d kept since they left Trin and swam off, sifting the ocean floor as he went. She clutched the bill to her chest, unsure exactly how it should be held. Her numbed hands found it hard to wrap around the shaft making it hard to keep a firm grip, added to this bits flaked under her palm, so it was forever shifting.
Light reflected through Stiff Water and she could see farther than ever before. Not a lot moved between them and the white wall. High up near the surface, dark figures entered the water, small wadzanas. They swam in their direction, keeping high. They’d be looking for the schools of fish they’d hunted last soltaire up. Other larger wadzanas were working their way from the left towards Stiff Water. With it reached they swam up and broke the ocean surface.
Stiff Water was so big a hundred Gorzinias in a line wouldn’t reach from one end to the other. It drew her eyes and the more she looked, the more it changed its colour, from white to blue. A stretch of ocean floor ran around its base. Before that was a deep gulley, an empty blackness fifty strokes across which disappeared around both ends of Stiff Water. Ethos had stopped on the fringes of the gulley, only his tail was visible. Anything could lurk down there. She gripped the bill tighter.
The Kacktozas called again. This time she saw them, high up near the surface. A large group were gathered. Three were swimming in a tight formation on their sides, creating a mini wall. Chunks broken off from Stiff Water drifted about them. The Kacktoza’s swam in unison, heading straight for one of the chunks. As they passed under, the chunk rocked. Something dark fell into the water. A small group of onlooker Kacktozas swam close by, one broke free and headed at speed to the chunk.
‘Here,’ Ethos handed her a handful of Slugums. She looked at him to thank him but his gaze had followed her own. Without looking at her, he said, ‘they’re hunting and the group outside are watching, looking for any dangers, which is what you’re supposed to be doing for me.’
Morg was about to snap back with a retort, but when she saw the smile he wore she stopped herself. ‘There’s nothing here.’ She bit into the cluster of bodies. They were fatty and juicy.
‘You’re right, but we can’t be too careful.’
‘I know,’ she said taking another bite.
‘Come on, we need more. You can help, but keep your eyes open.’
He didn’t wait for an answer. She ate what was left, whilst scanning above them. Satisfied they wouldn’t be approached, she turned her attention to Ethos.
His torso had vanished as before. She whipped her tail, ready to dive but stopped. Something moved within the dark, headed straight in Ethos’s direction, fast. A round head, half that of Ethos’s, manifested from the gloom, followed by a body running on six thin and rigid pectoral fins. A Conzora.
Before she could get words to form in her mouth it was too late, Ethos was turned over. His patches of white dazzled as he grappled to save himself from being shredded by the sharp points of the Conzora’s fin tips. Two fore limbs had him pinned, whilst the other four kicked at his sides.
Ethos punched with balled fists and thrashed his tail, trying to knock the Conzora off balance.
With other predators you could blind them by poking their eyes, Conzoras had none, had no need for them in the deep. Instead they relied on their heightened hearing. They had small mouths but their teeth could cut through stone. It snapped at Ethos with its long neck. Ethos swayed in avoidance.
She’d never killed anything before, didn’t know how. Gripping the bill in both hands, she dived.
Pointing the bill at the back of the Conzora’s head she swam hard and fast. The tip touched hard skin as the Conzora ducked and snapped again at Ethos. She came about and tried again. The same thing happened, its head moved at the last. Coming in from behind, she stabbed the bill into the base of its neck. It went through soft tissue and poked out the other side. She let go.
The Conzora crawled away, twisting its body away from the bill jutting from its neck. Ethos pushed himself up from his lying position. He came up over the Conzora, grabbed the bill and yanked it free. Then thrust it towards the Conzora’s head. Unable to see the Conzora stood no chance and the bill pushed between the spot where eyes should have been. It stood fast, then leaned and fell, drifting to the ocean floor, kicking its last. The bill, being old and brittle broke.
Another movement came from the depths. Ethos saw it and went straight to it. Before anything appeared, Ethos thrust the bill. It struck something and Ethos let it stay.
Ethos turned and swam at her, snatched her hand and pulled her up. She soon found his rhythm and they didn’t stop till the darkness was fifty strokes below. ‘They may not be able to see, but I’m not willing to take chances,’ he said turning his head. Being high was never a good move, eyes could be watching from anywhere and would spot them from many strokes away. She wanted to protest, but the glint in Ethos’s eyes was enough to quell her worry. He had a look of nonchalance as if he knew the danger but was ready to fend her life if the need arose. She looked up at him in awe: he knew what he was doing and she felt safe.
As he stared down at her his eyes sprang wide. He pulled her near and spun her to hold her from behind. Around them, Conzora’s shot up from the darkness. They swam in straight lines and stopped to hover, some below others above. Where they stopped their movements became minimal, enough only to keep their buoyancy.
What are you doing ethos? Get us out of here.
She wriggled her tail in an attempt to force him to move. He held her tighter and placed hand over her mouth. Looking at him through the corner of her eye she saw he was looking at her with the same calm even eyes and said nothing. With as little movement as he could he shook his head. He was telling her they shouldn’t move. They were doomed without a weapon and her stomach constricted as if her intestinal tubing were tying itself in knots.
Moving only her eyes she saw why he was being so cautious. The Conzora, were craning their heads, studying and listening. Or were they trying to pick up on any vibrations in the water like zerlini’s did. She should call them now, she wanted them here.
At the back of her tail, she felt Ethos’s push hers and in slow steady movements they swam higher. Her heart thumped within her chest, Ethos’s against her back. Below a Conzora’s head snapped in their direction. She kicked harder, forcing Ethos to work with her. The Conzora let out a high pitched yelp and three roundabout it moved to its flanks. They came up with astonishing speed, signalling their whereabouts by calling to others.
Ethos pulled on her chest, arching her body backwards. They avoided two coming at them from ahead. A head and neck lunged at her, snapping close to her eyes.
Ethos moved them in all directions as they meandered a way through the bodies of attacking Conzora predators. Without thought they made for Stiff Water. She could sense his moves somehow and every time he changed course, she went with him.
Moving together as one allowed them to swim faster and they’d outswim any number Conzora’s. Getting through them though was more difficult as the bulkiness made it awkward to make the sharper turns needed to evade snapping jaws.
Water rushed at the tip of her tail as the Conzora snapped from behind. Ethos was skilled and stronger then he looked, he kept them moving, darting them here and there in evasive manoeuvers. Two groups of four lay ahead and Ethos took them upwards.
They were high enough she was sure, but as they swam over the last Conzora in their path, one let out a yelp.
A jaw latched to the tip of her tail. It held her back. Ethos overshot her and released her from his grip. Pain shot up from her tail’s tip, like bill points stabbing her in progression. Ethos came about and with no thought to himself, punched the Conzora hard on its temple. The jaws’ grip tightened, sending a spasm of pain through her body. Ethos struck again and again the jaws clasped together. The pain was so excruciating she just wanted this thing off and when Ethos struck a third time, the jaws snapped shut, ripping a chunk from her.
With its yelp the Conzora had attracted more, four of them were coming to their exact position. ‘Get out of here,’ Ethos said putting himself between the approaching Conzora and her. He took on a hovering stance, readying himself for a fray.
‘No, Ethos, they’ll kill you without a bill.’
‘I’ll be OK, now go. Find the White Queen. There’s a tunnel entrance at the foot of Stiff Water, just head down from here and you’ll find it.’
‘So that’s it. Bring me all this way and—,’ There was no time for this, she hadn’t come all this way just to say goodbye at the last. With aching tail tip she moved towards Ethos and threw an arm over his shoulder and pulled him away. ‘Whatever happens, we go together. Now get behind me and help me to find the White Queen as you promised.’
