An omen of luck from Yunafa, it must be. She has truly blessed me on this day! Wind and water!
With the sun beating down from the clear sky overheard, the constant barrage of water spray was a pleasant relief for Paku.
He watched intently, feeling each change in the boat’s direction as it flew over the harmonious waves as graceful as a shark through open water.
“Easy, easy,” Bya-Iam directed, manning the other oar.
Paku tensed the muscles in his arms as he pushed and pulled his steering oar, planting his bare feet firmly on the wooden deck below as an anchor for his body.
It was harder than it looked when the older boys did it. He did not expect so much resistance from the sea against the rudder, nor how heavy the oar would be to push.
Paku did not groan or grimace, however. He was determined to make the Bya proud.
With each rise, the enormous boat would glide up before crashing back down with greater momentum. The winds began to pick up, caught in the triangular cloth sail.
“Steady!” Bya-Iam called out over the roar of the waves.
The catamaran went smoothly over the rising swell.
Bya-Iam, being as old as Paku’s nuna, stood out amongst the rest of the youthful crew. Yet he sailed better than all of them. He helmed the second steering oar on the other side of the deck from Paku.
Bya-Iam was Bya, or captain, of the catamaran, one of seven elected Byas from his clan. In Paku’s culture, Byas were the leaders, the tip of the spear.
Every sailor onboard listened to his orders intently, adjusting the beam of the huge sail and rebalancing their body weights to steady the rocking boat.
A boy on deck shouted something. Paku could not make out the words over the roaring waves but saw him pointing at something.
Paku followed his gesture with the other crewmates. His jaw fell open as he witnessed a huge animal rise from the sea surface less than one hundred metres from the catamaran.
“Look!” Paku gasped.
Even the Bya was taken aback by the spectacle.
The creature appeared to wallow at first, before raising an enormous dual-fluked tail up into the air, taller than a tree. Down its sides ran two more pairs of muscular flippers that reminded Paku of a fish’s pelvic fins. Its skin appeared smooth, glistening like wet hair in the sunlight.
“Bya, what is that?” Paku gasped.
“It is Tehl’toma,” Bya-Iam said. “Landwalkers call them colossal drakes.”
The boys all ceased their duties to witness the creature.
The immense animal lifted its head from the depths amongst spouts of crystal water. Its round eye glowed bright orange like a flaming ember. Its face had strands of kelp hanging from its beak.
It was easily the size of their catamaran, but somehow gave off a calm and peaceful vibe. Paku felt no danger from the titanic creature. He could not take his gaze away from the stunning beast.
“It has been many years since I have seen one,” Bya-Iam said. “The landwalkers, for years, hunted them for their oils. Then for their trophies.”
“But they are so gentle. Why hunt them for trophies?” Paku asked, observing the shreds of kelp which hung from the drake’s beaked mouth. It was as gentle as a guppy.
The Bya huffed. “Landwalkers are not like us. They are driven by greed and opportunity. They saw these creatures as prizes to be collected.”
The crew listened to their Bya with open ears. Paku felt disappointment over the information.
“This may very well be the last of its kind,” the Bya muttered under his breath. He stood in awe as the drake sank back beneath the waves, smoother than a slithering sea snake.
“What is it doing, do you think?” Paku asked, full of intrigue.
Bya-Iam shrugged, looking out at the horizon in the direction it was swimming off to. “I do not know, Paku. It swims south, away from warmer waters. Perhaps it seeks a new home? A wonderful occurrence, nonetheless. Let us hope we keep such luck with our catch.”
Paku had never expected to see such a wonderous sight on this day. He could not wipe the smile from his face.
Their catamaran, the Silat, was one of the largest in the fleet, so big that they could easily fit twenty crew members on board. Every man and boy onboard were shirtless, wearing only loincloths, enjoying the powerful sunlight and the cooling sea spray.
The men all had shaved heads and sun-kissed, earthy-toned skin, like most other Tekawa.
Their facial piercings communicated their rank. Paku had an eyebrow ring, received in a boy’s tenth year. The Bya, on the other hand, had over a dozen piercings across his lips, brows, ears, and nose, all earned for his significant feats in the clan. He was the highest rank of them all.
The colossal drake had swum away beneath the steadying waves. The sea began to flatten out.
Before long, Paku eyed an area of commotion on the water’s surface a few dozen metres ahead. It looked like splashing!
At first, he suspected it was the colossal drake again. No- too much splashing. It had to be fish.
“Bya! Bya!” Paku shouted, pointing ahead. “Over there!”
Bya-Iam spotted where Paku was gesturing towards, squinting to make sure it was a worthwhile target and using his hand to shade from the sun.
“Lower the sail, ready the nets,” Bya-Iam ordered. The crew scattered to do as requested, preparing for the hunt ahead.
The splashing area of water was most likely a large school of moonfish- a potentially great catch for the day, if successful.
“Paku,” Bya-Iam said, pointing, “come around this side. We will circle them.”
“Yes, Bya!”
Paku felt a rush of joy as he and Bya-Iam navigated in unison to turn the catamaran in an elegant dance of muscle, wind and water.
Paku hit one of the pedals at his feet, releasing the tightly wound vines beneath the deck of the Silat, activating the fins on the sides of the catamaran. The flap-like fins swung out to help create drag against the oncoming water.
The Silat slowed towards the school of fish and eventually came to a stop. Their positioning was perfect. Paku had hit the pedal at the exact right time, far enough away so as not to startle the fish, but close enough that they could begin throwing their nets.
The fishers of the crew readied their long nets, unwrapping them and handing them across from one person to another to combine their strength in the throw. Small stone weights dangled from the edges of nets.
In one graceful move, the fishers cast their huge nets into the air. They threw them all at once, to catch as many fish as possible before the others swam off with fear.
They waited a moment for the splash and the stone weights to drop before reeling in the nets in unison. Just like they had practiced their entire lives, helping one another bring the catch back to the deck.
Dozens of large moonfish flopped around as they were pulled from the water. Their silvery-white scales shimmered in the bright sun as they gasped for air.
The fishers stepped aside, and the collectors pulled the catch from the nets, storing them in dried seaweed baskets.
Paku breathed in a deep breath, smiling with pride. He had done it- he had successfully led the Silat to a catch.
It was a momentous feeling.
As the next batch of fish were drawn up, Paku heard his brethren mumbling to themselves.
“Oh no… not again.”
“What is happening to our fish?”
“Yunafa curses us.”
Paku went over with Bya-Iam to see what all the fuss was about. A fisher named Enda turned with a moonfish in his hands, presenting it to the Bya.
Paku winced at what he saw.
The fish was disfigured, with only one shrivelled fin. Its scales were rotten and flaking off despite it still being alive. Its eyes were bloodshot and its gills malformed.
The stench the fish gave off was horrific.
The other fishers looked among the catch. Most of the moonfish had similar ailments. Rot,
mutilations, disease.
“Why does Yunafa curses us so?” a fisher asked.
The young men all looked to their leader for any semblance of hope but Bya-Iam only shook his head, unable to answer.
The fish began dissolving into a gelatinous mess in Enda’s hands as it died.
“Another wasted effort,” someone sighed.
“If this continues, we will starve,” another said.
The Bya opened the seaweed baskets, only to see the rest of their catch suffering the same fate. None of this catch were free from whatever ailed them.
“We must join the other clans. We must trade with the easterners,” Enda begged the Bya. “My family is starving.” The rest of the young men argued between themselves over what options they had left.
Paku’s stomach rumbled.
All the recent talk of trading with the landwalkers had gotten him nervous. He did not know how to feel about making contact with the Alyrians, as many of the other clans had resorted to the last several years.
Paku had never met one, but the Byas all told of their mischievous and greedy ways. Such profane assertions cannot truly be considered.
Yunafa would drown us for breaking our isolation and interacting with the landwalkers.
The boys argued. Paku could see Bya-Iam making drastic considerations in his head. Figuring out how to lead his people, and what he would say to the other Byas upon their return to the village.
Paku had not eaten a proper meal in two days. He did not know what the right way forward was anymore. He felt his heart sink like a stone in the water upon realising his first hunt had failed.
“Perhaps we should try some more catches?” Paku put forward.
“No,” Bya-Iam said. “We will only be met with further disappointment. Enda is right, we are starving, and our fish are dying. We will return to the clan and I will discuss our next move with the Byas.”
Some of the boys cheered in agreement, while some shook their heads and spoke out against such radical ideas.
Bya-Iam stomped his foot on the deck with a hard thud to silence them all. He gazed at them all, directly into their eyes, all the while his piercings glittering in the sunlight.
He said little but spoke it firmly. “The world is changing. We must change with it or we will perish. We shall sing to Yunafa for a swift return home.”
Paku wanted to have faith in the Bya and his words. Yet he could not shake the fear and uncertainty bearing down on them, and the crippling hunger in his stomach.
※
The Silat sailed in to Paku’s village an hour later. The men and boys helped bring the catamaran against the floating bamboo structures on which the clan lived upon, lashing it with palm strips to the cleats running alongside.
Some children had gathered by the water, eager to see the catch the Silat had brought in. Their excitement was washed away with frowns as they jumped from the catamaran with empty baskets, having tipped the diseased fish back into the sea.
“But…what about our supper?” a young girl named Yerif asked. “What will we eat?” Her cheekbones were pronounced, her arms and legs as thin as sticks.
Bya-Iam and the rest of the sailors were unable to answer her question. They climbed the bamboo beams up to the main platforms of the floating village.
They knew not what to say, Paku realised. He patted the little girl on the shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile. She looked so confused, however.
Any comfort is better than none.
The village of Gywera comprised of half a dozen enormous platforms on which the nomads built their homes, food preparation and communal dining areas, and even a space for the children to be supervised.
Gywera had remained afloat since before Paku was born in what used to be a spot on the Emerald Sea teaming with life. The landwalkers called the village ‘Flotsam’, on account of its simple construction of floating wood, bamboo, palms, and vines.
Paku’s people hated that name. He saw past the driftwood patchwork and dilapidation. To Paku, Gywera meant beauty, serenity… quiet. Gywera had always been his home.
Paku put his hands out to a water carrier, requesting a drink. She had long, braided hair, was bare-chested, and wore a blue and white loincloth. The woman carried a bucket with fresh water collected in rain catchers. With a ladle she scooped some cool water into Paku’s hands.
He eagerly sipped the water and gave his face a quick wash, scrubbing away the sea spray and instantly feeling refreshed.
Paku noticed his nuna seated by herself along the waterside and approached her smiling. The old woman had white braided hair tied behind her head. Her hands were busy weaving something in her lap.
“Nuna,” Paku said, reaching out and giving his mother’s mother a firm embrace. The old woman’s eyes were as white as her hair, taken by blindness years earlier.
“Paku, my boy,” she said with a smile, realising who it was. “I always know it is you by the way you embrace me.”
Paku chuckled. “Nuna, I am your only grandchild! Who else is going to be calling you ‘nuna’?”
“Look what I have made you,” she said, holding out her weaving. The creation was made from browning palm fronds and dried seagrass, folded delicately into a small wreath.
“It is beautiful,” Paku said, taking the wreath into his hands. “This must have taken you-”
“All morning, my boy,” his nuna said. “But what better way to celebrate your fourteenth year upon the seas than with a luck laurel.”
Paku frowned. “A luck laurel? What does it do?”
Paku’s nuna felt for Paku’s hands before taking the wreath and placing it around his wrist like a bracelet.
“Wear it on you, and you will always find good fortune upon the seas.”
If only I had taken it with me on our fishing voyage.
Paku grinned and embraced his nuna once again, kissing her on the cheek. “Thank you, nuna.”
Paku noticed that his crewmates were headed into the centre of the floating village. The other Byas had gathered at the communal area, seated on a raised deck above the growing crowd of Gywera’s people atop large mats of seal hide.
Everybody appeared anxious. Word must have spread of yet another bad catch. Their stores and supplies were running dangerously low.
The village would soon starve.
“I will be back shortly, I am going to see what is going on,” Paku said, patting his nuna’s hand gently.
“Don’t rush back,” his nuna muttered, sitting back calmly in the warm sunlight. “I would rather be nowhere else but here.”
Bya-Iam joined the other six, presenting a gesture of good will with an open palm out to his kin.
Paku and his crewmates melded into the quieting gathering.
“Did you fare any better than the Silat?” Bya-Iam asked the two Byas to his side, Bya-Dera and Bya-Lomu, who had also taken their catamarans out to hunt.
Old man Bya-Dera shook his head sombrely, while Bya-Lomu did not even need to answer. Bya-Iam could see the despair in her sunken, wrinkled eyes.
The crowd muttered to themselves as the Byas broke into a heated discussion of what Gywera should do next.
Paku pushed his way forward through the people, drowning out their nervous voices to try and overhear.
As the Byas brought their heads in together for a private conversation, Paku listened intently, catching only bits and pieces.
“…I do not know, but other Tekawa clans are fleeing their villages…” Bya-Jossi murmured.
“…our food stocks have run dry…” Bya-Dera whispered.
“We cannot abandon this sacred place!”
“…Others have already left…”
“There is nothing left here for us!”
“Yunafa has abandoned us...”
Bya-Iam abruptly stood up. Everyone fell silent, even the other elders; all eyes were on him. The other Byas respected his word the most.
Bya-Iam cleared his throat, rubbing his chin as he thought up what wo
rds to speak in such troubling times. “Byas, great people of Gywera. We have an enormous decision in our hands, one that we must not take on lightly.”
A baby whimpered in the rear of the crowd.
Bya-Iam continued with a strong, determined tone despite the nervous look upon his elderly face. “Today, I believe that we have witnessed a sign from Yunafa herself upon the seas. We saw Tehl’toma swimming southward, away from its homeseas.”
Many of the people of Gywera gasped; most were astounded. Tehl’toma was thought to have vanished from the oceans. To have seen one was indeed a miracle.
“Our seas… are dying,” Bya-Iam stated matter-of-factly. “Our food is dying, and sooner rather than later, we are going to start dying if we keep going as we are.”
“What would you have us do, Bya-Iam?” Bya-Jossi asked.
“It is no small feat, but I think now is the time that we move on from our place upon the Emerald Sea,” Bya-Iam said. “Gywera has floated upon these sacred waters for decades, but it is time we sent her sailing once again, or else we will die upon our homeseas. All of us. It is not getting any better here. We must sail south. We cannot wait any longer.”
Bya-Jossi stood up in agreement, addressing the nervous crowd. “Friends and family, do not despair. Other clans are making the same decision as we speak. I believe Bya-Iam is suggesting the only reasonable route we have left.”
Bya-Qwara shot up angrily, shaking his head from side to side. He was the youngest Bya of the seven and known for his hot-headedness.
“Next you will be suggesting we trade and share fish with the landwalkers like some of the other clans!” Bya-Qwara shouted.
Some villagers, including Paku’s crewmates, shouted from the crowd with raised fists. Gywera’s independence was very important to its people; it always had been.
“Our clan has always prided itself on its solitude,” Bya-Iam rebutted.
“If we leave our homeseas, where will it end?” Bya-Qwara said.
“I am not suggesting we give up all of our customs, brother. I am only giving the people a way out of the dilemma we are facing.”
Bya-Qwara shrugged. “We need not worry! We only need to seek out new fishing grounds to replenish our stocks.”
Starfall (The Fables of Chaos Book 1) Page 29