Conclave

by Murray, Lee

  At that moment, the Originals snap into action. One swims at Shiv, calling guards after her. I dive for Jaes.

  “Fat King Sprat,” I yell into his mind.

  He nods, goes limp in the Sprat’s arms, and I crash into them both, gouging at the Original’s eyes with all my strength. Her milky irises are slimy under my fingernails and I dig deep. She screams, releases Jaes and tries to pull me off. I manage to break away but suddenly she’s on my back, like a child wanting a piggy-back. Her mouth begins to widen as she draws her jaw back to bite me. A loud cry breaks through the water. My grandmother throws herself at the Original, clawing her off my back and punching at her bleeding eyes, ripping skin. She pushes me away from the awful alien, and then strangles it to death. She spins and starts in on the rest. I grab Jaes and we make a break for it. The Originals scatter in all directions, pursued by her battle cry. It’s enough to distract the Spratonite guards, it’s enough to save our lives. We swim toward Shiv and the others, alongside the whale.

  Fastion supports his wounded brother. I smile at Bastion and grip him in a quick hug. Jaes clings to me. Shiv begins to sing again, pointing at the whale. The sheer size of its body freaks me out. It’s enormous and so pale. When I look beyond its bulk and see at least ten more, some with their young close beside them, I have an overwhelming urge to ball my eyes out.

  “What are they doing here, Shiv? What do we do?”

  “Get in!” he says. I look at him in confusion.

  “You mean, get on?”

  “No, Mergirl. Get in. Get in her mouth. She will transport us to the surface. I will sing it. You can help me. If we work together, we can escape. Get in! Quickly, they come.”

  I look over my shoulder to see the Originals and their guards regrouping. My grandmother has disappeared. Fastion and I push a nearly unconscious Bastion and a petrified Jaes past the whale’s watchful gaze. Shiv points at the huge pale monster.

  “Go on! Trust me,” he says, and the whale opens her massive mouth.

  We slide in, bouncing on her tongue like krill. The mass of baleen plates she uses to feed hang over us. Shiv begins a different song.

  “Halt!” A mind shove grips us and I gag. Jaes moans and bends over, clutching his stomach until he falls forward onto the massive tongue.

  “You will be reconditioned! Traitor!” screeches an Original, pointing at Shiv. “We’ll wipe your entire mind, just like your friend Alben!”

  Shiv freezes in place. He’s stopped singing. The Sprats head our way, arms outstretched like underwater zombies. They may be small, but they can move fast.

  “Shiv!” I shout. “What’s going on? Keep singing!”

  He throws me a look of desperation and clutches his head.

  The Original is joined by one of her ugly friends. This one angles her head until her pale eye meets mine. She pinches her lips together and raises a small, scaled arm. Her gnarled hand grips my grandmother’s head by the hair.

  I stare at the sightless eyes of my fierce relative, merblood pouring from her severed neck, and see more than red. I snap.

  With every angry Tellurian inch of me, I slam a full force mind shove into the old girl’s alien brain. It sends her head over heels through the water until she impales herself, shuddering, against a sharp piece of pink coral and she drops my grandmother’s head to the ocean floor. The lead Original and all the guards within mind shove distance grip their skulls in pain.

  Jaes reaches for my hand and I pull him to his knees.

  “I didn’t know I could do that,” I say.

  “Never underestimate a Tellurian,” he replies.

  Shiv holds his head, but manages to give what I’ve come to recognise as a Sprat smile, a kind of tight-lipped grimace. “So fierce,” he says. He starts to sing again, this time louder.

  “Full speed ahead, Shiv,” I call and we all try to get a handhold of whale as our big bus begins to move.

  The whale aims for the surface on a slow gradient. The reef falls away beneath us. Her mouth smells of fish and salt and something slimy and alive, but I breathe it in through my gills in the hope of always remembering this moment. As the creature lowers her gaping mouth to half closed, she and I join Shiv in his alien song.

  24

  Gabriel Tellurian runs a tanned, thick-veined hand through his black hair and scans the horizon. The sun sets in spectacular, tropical style as another day ends, along with their hopes.

  Murdoch Aegis steers the ship in a circle, retracing their search line and doubling back on the sector they’d scanned over the last week. He stops at a pre-placed buoy. They’d marked out the area on a copy of the map taken by the boys and Thala.

  Kastion pulls his bulk on board, water dripping from the glossy scales on his tail before it shimmers in transformation, leaving his bare legs looking vulnerable and frail. The man has aged.

  “How did you go, Kastion?”

  The big man wraps himself in a towel and grunts. “Same as always, the map must be wrong.”

  Gabriel doesn’t take offense. He knows his map is correct, that the Spratonite city lies somewhere in this sector. It’s simply a matter of finding it at a time when whatever high tech alien force field those bastards projected wasn’t turned on. Last time he’d patrolled these waters, they’d been ‘lucky’. They’d found the city, seen the scope of what they were facing and fled, only to have more than half their numbers murdered and eaten before their eyes. That had been the moment that changed everything for him. He realised that if his people didn’t simply stay away, they’d be wiped out of existence, one Spratonite meal at a time.

  Gabriel, better known as Uncle, watches Kastion sit himself down with a thump and stare out over the glassy surface of the ocean, his expression carefully guarded. The pinks and lilacs of the sunset highlight his disappointment. Far to the right, the islands of Vanuatu are slivers of green in the distance.

  Gabriel is grateful for Kastion’s company. He understands. Kastion has encouraged him to swim again, increasing his fitness and regaining some of his lost strength. They go each day, to search and swim and dive, then to spend the evening on the boat drowning their sorrows. Kastion has introduced him to the joys of a human beverage called wine. The intricacies of the scents and flavours have been a saviour in the depths of his despair, as has been the chance to talk with Kastion. The two of them cling to the hope of finding their children: they refuse to give up.

  Anna calls from the galley. The evening meal is ready. Gabriel isn’t hungry. He never really is, but he eats to please his old friend.

  “Shall we eat on deck tonight, Anna?” calls Gabriel. “It’s a beautiful sunset.”

  Anna emerges from below, a large platter of fresh crayfish and raw tuna dotted with the last of the lettuce and tomatoes. They would have to return to shore again soon if they wanted to supplement their diet with vegetables. Murdoch fixes the wheel and lets the boat drift. He takes the platter from his sister, giving her a quiet smile.

  Kastion disappears below for a moment to pull on his boating attire—human style, knee-length shorts and a cap, no shirt. His huge barrel chest and broad shoulders are a common sight in the tropical weather.

  “Another day done and over,” he sighs, downing some fish.

  Murdoch joins them, offering the last bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. He pours all four a glass, and they stand together, looking out over the bow.

  They toast the sunset and each other and the gods of the sea.

  “Come and sit down at the table,” says Anna and, like sheep seeking the familiarity of routine, Kastion and Gabriel follow her. Murdoch dallies at the bow, twisting his wine glass stem between two gnarled fingers, staring at the horizon.

  “Come, brother, eat,” says Anna. ‘Murdoch?’

  Murdoch holds up a hand. In slow motion he sets his wine glass down on the deck and, bending low, unclasps a storage pocket, bringing out the telescope stored there.

  “Do you see something, Murdoch?” asks Gabriel.

  Murdoch shu
shes him, staring through the scope. The others join him at the bow, their food and wine forgotten.

  “Whales,” says Kastion, resignedly, his keen eyes picking out the creatures. “A pod of them by the looks.” As if in greeting, another surfaces and shoots a spray of water.

  “And something else,” says Murdoch. He hands the telescope to Gabriel, his face expressionless.

  Gabriel grabs it, slamming it against his eye, adjusting the lens.

  “Strange,” he murmurs.

  “What is it?’ Anna says.

  ‘Blue whales, in this part of the ocean. They’re early.”

  “Wait a second, they can’t be blue whales; they don’t run in pods,” says Kastion.

  “Strangely enough, they are, though, and Murdoch is right, there’s something else. One of them isn’t blue, it’s white. It’s a gigantic albino whale,” says Gabriel.

  Anna sits down with a thump. “It’s the monster,” she says. Murdoch crouches beside her, taking her hand.

  “What monster, Anna?” asks Kastion, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  Anna’s face is pale. She clutches her brother. “The white monster, Murdoch. It’s the sign. The omen of change. We’re free. The Aegis are free. The one we’ve been told to look for our entire lives.”

  “What are they talking about, Gabriel?” asks Kastion in exasperation.

  Murdoch answers. “It’s an old spell, written into the stories of our family for as long as we’ve been linked with the Tellurians. The white monster of the sea will eat our children and return them to life. When that happens we are free from our bond.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” shouts Kastion. “Eat our children?”

  Murdoch doesn’t answer. He pulls Anna to her feet and they stand side by side, holding each other upright, gazing at the approaching whales.

  “There must be more than twenty of them, some of them young,” says Anna. “Beautiful.”

  “They’re coming awfully close,” says Murdoch. He returns to the wheel, and the boat’s motor chugs to life.

  There’s a crash of broken glass, and Anna yelps as Gabriel dives overboard, knocking over the wine glass in his hurry. He transforms the instant he hits the surface.

  “Gabriel!”

  “I’ll go after him!” cries Kastion, pulling off his shorts.

  “Wait!” Murdoch says. He’s staring through the telescope, smiling. Murdoch hands the scope to the big man.

  Kastion trains it on the huge, white lead whale in time to see Gabriel swim up to it. His friend places one hand on the creature’s giant, pale side and its mouth opens wide.

  “Oh, my God,” says Kastion. “It’s them.”

  The boat draws closer, and now they can all see bodies resting in the whale’s open mouth. The other whales peel off to either side and continue their journey, but the long, pale monster slows and lingers. Kastion leaps overboard, joining his friend.

  Gabriel Tellurian treads water with his powerful tail. He pulls his son from the whale’s mouth first. He hands the small boy over to Anna’s warm embrace. Jaes wails and rocks. Gabriel returns to help Kastion with his niece, but she clings to another body. It takes all their strength to pull both her and Bastion out of the whale, and on board. She lies motionless, in a puddle of sea water and slime, but she’s alive.

  Kastion returns to the whale, practically climbing into its mouth, searching.

  “Prastion?” he calls.

  “He’s gone.” Bastion’s voice is weak but Kastion moans and bends his head to rest on the whale’s huge mouth. “No, not you, too.”

  ‘Look out!’ screams Anna. ‘It’s one of them!’

  Kastion’s head shoots up in alarm. Gabriel whirls, his body tensed to fight. He dives back overboard toward his friend, aiming for the small Spratonite who has surfaced briefly beside him.

  Thala sits bolt upright. “Stop!” she screams.

  Gabriel wraps an arm around the alien’s small neck, pulls him above the waves and begins to squeeze. The sound of the alien’s laboured breathing is satisfying. He squeezes harder.

  “You will pay,” he hisses.

  A huge Merman appears beside them, his long hair and beard wallowing around him like a lion’s mane. Calmly, he pries the alien’s body from Gabriel’s grip, letting its head dip beneath the surface to take a breath.

  Gabriel fights to keep hold of his enemy, but the huge man is too strong. “What are you doing? Give that bastard back!”

  “He helped us escape, my friend,” the Merman replies calmly. “He’s the reason your niece survived.”

  “Fastion?” Kastion swims forward. “You’re here? You’re defending a Sprat?”

  “I am happy to pay.” The alien’s voice is a gentle rattle inside Gabriel’s head. Gabriel looks down to see the Sprat raise his hands and place them in prayer position over his forehead. Gabriel can just make out his close-lipped expression beneath the surface of the water.

  “You don’t deserve what my people have done to you,” it says. “I will pay.”

  Gabriel’s eyes widen and he glances at his niece. She nods at him.

  “It’s true, Uncle,” she says. “A Sprat saved us.”

  25

  I don’t think Uncle will ever truly accept Shiv or trust him. How can he? Shiv represents everything that ruined his life, everything he hates. As far as Gabriel Tellurian is concerned, Shiv is one of those who murdered and tortured members of our family. But what I try to remind him is that Shiv is also our redeemer. Without him, we would all be toast. Literally, or a four course meal anyway.

  But as strange as the funny little alien is, Shiv gives me hope. He is the evolved version of a race never meant to inhabit our planet. He is a step and a half ahead of all those other little Sprats and their creepy, bald leaders.

  Uncle has been hurt too much to forgive so readily, but he is making progress. He’s visiting our resident Sprat once a day and they’ve managed a kind of underwater truce. Shiv tries to teach Uncle to sing and explains Spratonite hunting tactics, and Uncle teaches Shiv the history of the Spratonite’s shameful attacks on Mer. It’s his version of torture; a kind of emotional, slow drilling into Shiv’s compassion centres. Uncle is determined this Sprat will know what pain his species has caused.

  Something else we learned from Shiv, his people don’t call themselves Spratonites! And they don’t come from any kind of world called Spratonia. They are in fact from the planet Scummda. It turns out we got the name Spratonite from the battle cry they screamed into our heads before hunting us down and killing us for food. Shiv tells me ‘Spraton!’ is a Homeworld word meaning something like ‘Cheers!’ Or ‘Bon Apétit!’ Gross. I still call them Sprats, though.

  He also told us the Pacific Spratonite stronghold is one of ten positioned on our planet. Ten! Ten loads of the same kind of punishment meted out on our people. They’ve been killing our kind all over the globe and we didn’t even know.

  This knowledge truly made up my mind. I’ve decided I can’t stay here. Bastion feels the same way. He says we have to bring the Mer together, either to fight or, a long shot, attempt diplomacy with the Sprats. Kastion and Uncle strongly oppose this. Diplomacy is not a language Sprats understand, and from what we can work out from Shiv’s description of their culture, it’s the Original’s way or the highway.

  So fight we will. But first we need numbers, and that’s what Bastion and I have decided to do. We’ll rally the troupes, as they say. Although he can’t transform, Fastion will join us under the waves. We’ve called it Operation Prastion in honour of our friend and cousin. Jaes is keen to come too, but Uncle says he needs to stay here and help ‘guard’ the prisoner.

  We still need to decide what to do about the humans. Should we warn them? The Spratonites haven’t succeeded in living dry yet, but in Uncle’s mind, with what he now knows from Shiv, it’s only a matter of time.

  Kastion left us last week. He has to return to his home to break the news to the rest of the family. I t
hink Uncle will miss him. Bastion is still too weak to travel, so he’s stayed here. He needs to heal. He’s lost his cousin and best friend, and his weakness alarms him. It frightens me too. His wound is so like Uncle’s, I’m terrified he’ll catch Blight. The scar is set now, though, and Anna says it is well on the mend. She applies herb poultices from her garden, first to draw out the septic poison of the Spratonite claw marks, and later to cleanse and soothe. She’s had a little talk to me about my pains too. It turns out it wasn’t Blight, but something far more natural. Something that only occurs in one out of three of our Merwomen, which means I’m able to be a mother someday. I guess the Mer version of PMT is a little more violent than the human one, like a lot of things in our lives.

  Anna and Murdoch have decided to stay with us. They say they have nowhere else to go and, besides, they weren’t really slaves because Uncle paid them a good salary. I’m secretly stoked. They’re family and I couldn’t bear to lose anyone else.

  And strangest of all? Uncle and I are talking. He has so many plans. He’s the mastermind of Operation Prastion, and his mind is full of new information. I’m in awe of his tactical skill. I can’t ever hope to have the breadth and depth of knowledge I see in this incredible man. Gabriel Tellurian is a leader of Mer who can no longer dive deep but who makes up for it by loving his family to even greater depths. I’m only mad it took me so long to realise it.

  Tomorrow he’s promised to sit down and talk about my parents. He says he’ll tell me everything. He says I’ve earned it. I’ve told him I want to know how they died. He said, with dignity, the same way they lived. I plan to tell him all about my grandmother, another Tellurian who many under-estimated.

  I gaze at Bastion’s blue-bronze skin, his long legs stretched out on the sun lounger, his eyes closed. He is shirtless and smooth. A large white bandage covers his upper chest and shoulder but apart from that, he is perfect. I reach out and squeeze his hand, and he opens one eye, then closes it again with a smile. Upstairs, Jaes is playing music, and I can hear Murdoch hammering on something around the side of the house. Uncle is in his study, plotting and planning. The smell of coffee brewing wafts from the kitchen where Anna potters in her domain.