by J E Feldman
Nikita did what she did best: used her brains. She hurried over to pluck out plombers for the wounded. She returned seconds later with the magical fruit. Meristole immediately took to the task of feeding it to the wounded. She swam up to where their hiding place had been and carried the injured Merleon down.
The man in the diving suit squirmed uncomfortably.
“Since you’ve surprised us all with your sword skills, I have an idea for you,” Nikita said.
Moments later, Ronit was back at the base of the mountain, chopping off some magically fortified creepers with an axe. They tied the man’s hands and feet and left him by his precious submarine. He whimpered in anger, but was helpless due to his wound.
Soon, the remaining warriors recovered enough to gather the valiant dead among them and arrange a proper farewell. Meraka swam over to the twins and folded her hands in gratitude, her eyes adding drops of salt water to the ocean.
“You achieved something really rare today,” she said, looking at Ronit.
“What’s that?” he asked sheepishly.
She invited them to take in the scene that was unfurling: Merleons and Aquantaurs cooperating each other!
“Don’t seem much like a wuss now, do I?” Ronit grinned at his sister.
When they finally emerged above ground, the twins were automatically transformed back to their human forms. With the help of Meristole, they flew out on the scaffolding, holding the bound man between them.
Meristole couldn’t waste much time; she had lots to do! The Merleons had decided to shift their camps deeper underwater and away from the city. That way, when the news spread, no overindulgent explorer could find them again. They had decided to enter into alliance with the Aquantaurs with a peace treaty. After seeing the trickery of the humans, the Merleons hoped the Aquantaurs would come to their senses and realize who the real enemy was.
Just before she left, Merleon opened up the entry into the forest. She had also handed them another wad of leaves, reddish brown in colour.
“To force out the truth. Feed this to him before you turn him over to the police. He’ll sing like a bird.” With that she bade them a tearful farewell and dived back underwater.
Watching her go, Nikita felt a pang in her stomach.
“Do you realize we’re the only people alive who’ll ever see their species?”
Merleons and Aquantaurs alike would be lost at sea.
“Right now, I realize we’re two sixteen year olds holding a dangerous hostage between us. Let’s move!” Ronit replied.
Darkness had fallen and they had difficulty finding their way out. When they got out at last, the twins found police cars already waiting, in search of them. Feeding the leaves to their captive forcibly, they left the man with the police and rushed to their parents, who were stricken with worry.
“You have some explaining to do, kids!” their mother said sternly.
Then she pulled them into a warm embrace as tears rolled down her cheeks.
Justifiably, they decided to cut the vacation short and return to their home in Delhi.
The next day, the newspaper headlines read:
‘Four government officials caught in a scandalous conspiracy.’
The twins took a week adjusting back to their boring lives. They allowed normalcy to return. They spent the rest of the vacation drinking Cola and tackling their holiday assignments. There were integration sums to be solved and chemical reactions to be learned. Amongst other things, there was also an essay to be written.
Nikita sat down with a blank piece of paper and her favourite ink pen. She started writing.
‘It all began with an almost empty beer bottle…”
Jo Seysener
Biography
Jo Seysener is an emerging author living near Brisbane, Australia. She is a mum of three crazy children, a German Shepherd called Calamity Jane, and a decrepit Kelpie. Jo writes children’s picture books for Library for All Australia, a not for profit organization which aims to increase literacy levels in third world countries. Jo has several short stories in published anthologies and also writes speculative fiction for adults. She fancies herself a gardener with a kitchen shelf full of tortured orchids and crippled herbs. She adores alpacas and one day hopes to own one.
A Stirring of Sand and Dust
Jo Seysener
“Over one - seashell and under – another.” The little fish wriggled her way beneath a shell buried in the sand. It vibrated with the underground rumbling. There had been a lot of rumbles lately. Mum said the Sea was unhappy. The little fish didn’t know how the water could be sad. She paused, her little fins shimmering, dusting grains of sand from her scales. She nudged the next seashell with her hardened exoskeleton, bored. A flicker of motion caught her attention.
“Ohhh, a new anemone,” she sang, flitting over the tiny tentacles waving in the ocean current. She dodged between the fronds, letting them tickle her scales, shivering in delight.
“Snip! Come back here!”
Snip sighed. Mum always wrecked her fun. She swam toward her mum’s voice, dragging her tail in a swirly pattern on the sea floor. She passed a pair of mermaids gossiping. They thought the sea was angry. Snip wiggled her tail faster.
“It’s only an anemone,” her tiny voice took on a whiny quality. She knew it annoyed Mum.
“You should stay where I can see you,” Snip’s mother admonished, “And that’s not an anemone,” her voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s the tips of the ancient Cuttlefish.”
“Really?” Snip strained to see past her mother’s fins.
Mer-people gathered around the tentacle tips, soothing them with strokes of their long tails. One mermaid created eddies of sand that swirled around the tentacles. They waved in response, poking at the grains as they swept past the pale eel-like fronds. Snip watched in fascination.
“What are they doing?”
“Trying to soothe him. Let’s get going.”
“But why?”
“To make sure he doesn’t emerge. Now let’s go.”
“But I wanna waaatch.” The whine was back. Mum sighed.
“Just for a moment then, I suppose. It’s not as though you’ll likely see this again for many years…” she trailed off.
Snip fought for a better position against her mother’s fins. Finally she stared over the top of the rock.
“Why has it come up now?” Snip knew the giant cephalopod – she was very proud of that word – only rose to the surface of the chasm when great need arose in the ocean. It had been quiet for a long time – always – so boring. The cephalopod hadn’t surfaced since Mum was a tiny fish, too.
Well, not quite surfaced. His beak had come up. Then the mer-people talked him down – Snip didn’t know how they did that, had they pushed the Cuttlefish back into his hole? That wasn’t very nice of them. She wondered if she would get to see the Cuttlefish. How big would it be? It was rumoured to be able to blend into its surrounds – or rage with bright colours when angered.
“That would be so cool,” Snip whispered.
“What?” snapped her mother.
“Nothing,” Snip sighed. Chances were she’d never get to see the giant Cuttlefish. Life was so boring.
“C’mon, let’s go home.”
Snip sighed and followed her mother off the rock. A noise stopped them. Snip risked a glance over her fins. Even the tentacles paused in their playing. The sound echoed around them, deep, haunting tones. Snip knew something was wrong.
“What is it?”
“It’s why the Cuttlefish has risen.”
Snip and her mother started, spinning around in the cold ocean. A white-fronded merman drifted alongside. Snip thought he must be as old as the Cuttlefish. She asked the only question a young fish could at a time like this.
“Why?”
The merman smiled, his pruned face stretching into a thousand new wrinkles.
“Youth must always ask,” he murmured, stroking Snip’s scales. She wriggled, spitting bub
bles.
“Tickles,” she grunted, twitching. The little fish would not be put off. “Why?”
The merman’s smile faded. “Tis the death knoll of the blue whale.”
Mum sighed out. Snip wished she understood. She frowned.
“But, wh-”
The merman chuckled sadly. “Why, my little friend?” He shook his seaweed hair. “This is the last female blue whale. She is not our oldest whale, but after she is gone, there will be no more blue whale calves.”
“No more baby whales…ever?”
“There may be baby whales, but not of her family.”
Snip was silent. Baby whales were beautiful. They were so much fun to play with. Not that they got many down this far, unless one got lost. Or a dead one settled in the sand. Snip wrinkled her nose. Those were gross. But if this whale was dying then what –
“Whalers?”
The merman nodded to Snip’s mother. Snip didn’t know what a Whaler was, but decided it couldn’t be good. She tugged her Mum’s fin.
“Can we go see?”
Mum shushed her as the terrible noise rolled through the ocean again, through Snip. Her exoskeleton vibrated with it. Sand danced across the sea floor. Snip followed the puffs of sand to the edge of the crevasse. Mum and the merman were still talking about the Whalers and hadn’t noticed Snip slipping away.
Mer-people surrounded the abyss. Snip counted four octopi and a large squid loitering on the seabed. Water drakes and sandworms slithered and circled. Tiny glowing fish scattered around the edges, lighting the deep with a faint a blue glow. Even the Kraken had come. The ground shook again.
A knot of mer-people argued across the trench from Snip, gesturing with the arms and spears. A pair of mermaids swished their tails in the trench, dangling from the edges. The tiny fish flitted in and out between them, lighting the scales on the mermaids’ tails. They shimmered purples and greens in the glow, ribbons of colour above the deep black of the trench.
One of the tentacles coiled around Snip and she hurriedly reversed. Snip didn’t want to be lunch, even for an old Cuttlefish. She wondered for a moment if her mother had been right, that she should stay away from the trench and its inhabitant. Then she noticed a pair of sea worms playing in the sand, creating swirling patterns and swam over to join them, forgetting her misgivings and her mother’s advice in an instant.
Several of the mermen were still arguing. Snip stopped playing with the baby sandworms to listen. She knew she wasn’t supposed to eavesdrop on other fish’ conversations, but she just couldn’t help herself.
“But I am the strongest,” a large merman proclaimed, brandishing a spear.
Mermaids fluttered around him, just out of reach, swishing their tails. The other mermen sneered at him.
“I have the largest army across the seas!”
“I am king of the Seas.”
This last claim sent the mermaids into giggles, bubbles puffing from their mouths. The merman shot them a dark glare, and they quieted, still poking each other and whispering behind their hands.
“Ahem.”
A quiet cough startled the boasting mermen. They turned as one to the newcomer. Snip couldn’t see from her spot who it was and wasn’t game to swim any closer. They all just looked so big. The mermen separated, bowing to their scales. Their tails curved up, almost touching their foreheads. A circular bow. It must be royalty. Snip gasped and one of the mermaids shushed her. A murmur rolled through the mermaids. Snip caught the whisper as it rippled past her.
The Emperor.
The merman who approached had green hair fronds swirling about his thick torso. A string of sharp teeth encircled his chest. Snip cowered back to the sandworms, but they were long gone – maybe back to their parents. Snip missed her Mum, but wanted to watch despite her fear. She sank to the sand, burrowing in.
The Emperor moved slowly down the row of bowing mermen. He nodded grandly to the mermaids huddled together. They tightened their knot, clutching each other’s hands, still and silent as he passed by them. He swam out over the trench, his hands swaying with the tentacles, touching them. His mouth moved, and Snip realised he was talking to the Cuttlefish. Deep tones matched the rumbles coming from the trench.
Suddenly in darkness, Snip’s attention broke. Something light fluttered over her head. Snip wiggled about, flattened between the sand and thing above her. She coughed bubbles, wriggling across the sea bed as fast as she could, eyes closed as she burrowed through the sand. Then she was out from whatever had covered her and she breathed in cold, clean seawater. Snip sighed, relieved.
Hands covered her, sweeping her across the sea, and the tiny fish spouted bubbles again.
“Ooh, look! It’s a wee fishy.” Purple eyes surrounded by heavy lashes appeared so close to Snip her bubbles popped on the mermaid’s nose. She giggled and Snip vibrated, banging into the fingers that caged her.
“She’s afraid, you’re scaring her. Put the little thing down.” A distant voice, similar to Snip’s mum.
The purple fronded mermaid sighed and released the tiny fish. Snip shot away, found a pebble and hid behind it, failing magnificently.
The Emperor sank into the abyss, conversing with the Cuttlefish. The mermaids moved away, chattering. Deciding the pebble wasn’t really doing its job, Snip floated toward the tentacles, fascinated with the way they drifted in the disturbed water.
They looked different – longer. Rock crumbled from the edges of the crevasse, trickling into the dark. The shaking became a rumble. The mer-people gathered in a tight cluster. Snip peered further into the crevasse. A pale form flickered in glow.
Snip thought it was the Cuttlefish, at first. The form drew closer to the surface of the trench, like a mer-person but not. Where a tail should have been were tentacles, curling around stumps that used to be legs. Snip knew they used to be feet, because one this was a man. But no longer.
Davy Jones was more seafolk now.
Sometimes Snip saw him as he whisked souls away from the surface. Souls that had perished above the sea or were lost deep in it. Snip shivered. She rarely saw so many sea creatures in such an isolated part of the ocean. She edged around the tentacles for a better view.
“Go back from whence you came, soul-stealer,” the Emperor growled.
Davy Jones smiled, rotten teeth splintering in a gummy smile. A stream of bubbles issued from his mouth, obscuring his face. The Emperor growled again. Jones’s grin grew wider.
“But I live here, remember? You of all…people…should recall. The deepest and darkest hole in the sea, this is where you sent me.”
His voice was as slimy as seaweed, Snip decided. Eager for more, Snip tuned back to the conversation between the Emperor and the sea monster.
“You are not welcome here. Or anywhere.” The Emperor added, “Begone!” His voice was deep and the command rocked Snip. Everywhere, conversations ceased, eyes turning to the scene unfolding amidst them.
But instead of running away, as Snip was sure the Emperor had meant Jones to do, the once-man laughed. The Emperor’s lips curled, his expression souring. Jones swept forward.
“And I am so bored between souls – it is tiring work, consuming all those sailors.” He patted his belly.
Snip’s own tummy clenched.
“You disgust me.”
Snip nodded, completely agreeing with the majestic merman. Jones circled the Emperor, stopping in front of him. The Emperor flinched as though wishing to move away, but held his ground.
“You object to my…home? I have such wonderful company.”
The Emperor snorted. “As though He would speak with the likes of you.”
“Oh, he doesn’t talk to me, that much is true.” Jones inched forward. “But he listens.”
At this, the Emperor laughed outright, a bellowing sound that ballooned outward.
“He listens? To you spouting your sludge and lies?”
His chest still shaking, the Emperor swam back to the Cuttlefish, its beak beginning to eme
rge from the crack in the world’s crust. Davy Jones let him go, his head canted to the side.
Something told Snip he wasn’t finished just yet. The little fish held her breath. When it came, Jones’ voice was soft, a whisper trailing the ocean currents.
“Tales of the surface.”
The Emperor halted, spinning around so fast a small maelstrom formed around him. He shot back to Jones, huge hand clutching the monster’s throat.
“What have you done?” His roar was so loud the sand seemed to tremble on the sea floor.
Snip slipped her fins closer to her ears. She hated yelling, or being yelled at. Mum was scary enough. But the Emperor was truly terrible in his rage.
The Cuttlefish strained for release, knocking against the sides of the trench. The edges crumbled, puffs of sand and dust colouring the ocean. Snip sucked grit through her nose and sneezed explosively.
Then came another sound, and the rumbling stopped.
The whale’s death song swept through the crowd surrounding the Cuttlefish. A roar boomed, but not from the Emperor or the whale dying somewhere above them in the inky darkness. This noise was new – and came from below. The seabed buckled, a ripple fluctuating outward from the abyss. Sand danced on the seabed. Fingers clutched Snip’s fins, frightening her.
“Come away, little fish,” the old merman’s kind voice soothed her. “You don’t want to be in the way when He emerges.”
Snip peered through his fingers, reluctant to be drawn away from the action. She wanted to see. Her Mum grabbed her tail, attempting to tug her from the merman’s grip. The rumbling grew louder and the blue glow fish scattered, leaving Snip in darkness. Stillness surrounded her. Even the merman and her Mum stopped their tug of war over her fins.
The Emperor had Jones on the seafloor, a spear piercing the monster’s soft flesh. The once-man laughed up at his aggressor, tentacles crawling up his scales, curling around his arms and covering his chest in a silent struggle. Sand rose around them then settled on the sea bed.