Hunters Unlucky

by Abigail Hilton

  Roup thought for a moment. “If I walk in there with half my clutter, it’ll be perceived as an act of aggression. We’ve already escalated this by two levels of command. How paranoid would you like to look?”

  “If you go alone, then you are alone,” said Arcove.

  “I’ll take Lyndi. Just me and my beta, out for a visit.”

  Arcove thought for a moment. “Alright.”

  Roup butted his head against Arcove’s shoulder. “Why so dour? You’re the one who keeps insisting that Treace is just a headstrong cub who needs firm leadership.”

  Arcove looked a little pained. He didn’t say anything.

  “I’ll be careful,” said Roup.

  Chapter 4. Syriot

  Storm had no clear idea of how long they traveled through Syriot, but it must have been days. Shaw told him that the ely-ary had brought him to the beach in the far north—well away from ferryshaft or creasia territory. The telshees moved sometimes through night-black tunnels, but more often along the banks of underground streams, glowing faintly with acriss. Storm was certain that the telshees could have moved much faster—both in the water and out of it. They were going slowly for him, but they did not complain.

  Sometimes the walls of the caves glittered with color—blue, green, red, or a clear crystal that threw back the light in rainbows. Sometimes the riverbank disappeared, and they had to swim. Then, Storm would put his front legs over Shaw’s body, near her head, and hang on as she undulated through the water.

  They traversed vast, echoing caverns, with ceilings lost in shadow, and along the banks of rivers as wide as the Igby. Pale fish swam there, along with tasty little shrimps—almost transparent. Some of the caves were completely black. The acriss, Shaw explained, could not live in freshwater. However, the little jellyfish thrived in salt and brackish water, especially where it was warm. “Hot streams bubble out of the heart of the mountain,” Shaw explained. “They’re all over Lidian, but even more common down here.” The sea often mingled with the hot springs, so that some of the rivers appeared to have tides.

  Storm had no sense of day or night. The telshees slept when they grew tired and moved on when they woke. All my friends must think I’m dead. That gave Storm a pang, but also a sense of relief. He felt freed of all obligations…except, perhaps, to his rescuers.

  Twice, the drove encountered the scent of lishties. Then they would grow agitated and restless and travel in silence until the next meal or nap. When their rivals did not appear, they relaxed again.

  Storm got the idea that the telshees did not often come this way. Shaw was certainly their leader, but even she frequently had to cast about to decide their route. Storm did not like to bother her when she seemed to be concentrating. However, when the going was easy and straight, he would ask her questions, or she would teach him writing signs.

  “You sing to each other before going to sleep,” he observed. “Why?”

  Shaw had to think before answering. “Do ferryshaft never sing together?” she said at last.

  Storm smiled. “Sometimes. When we’re trying to entertain one another, we sing stories. But you don’t usually sing words at all. You sing…” He searched for a word and couldn’t find it. “Feelings. Sensations.” He gave up. “Did you heal me with your singing?”

  “We helped,” she said. “It’s easier when you’re in our pools.”

  One of the other telshees spoke up. She was the smallest of the pups, no bigger than Sauny, and quite shy. “Shaw healed you,” she whispered. “We only sang with her.”

  Shaw laughed. “Your songs will be powerful, Ulya. Just give it time.”

  “So older telshees can do more powerful things with their singing…” said Storm slowly.

  Shaw inclined her head. “Our pups leave and return to breed,” she told him, “and many return only once. A few return again. A very few return to stay. These are the telshees of Lidian. Most of us are either quite young—and not yet ready to leave—or quite old and have seen many shores. I am an old telshee, but Keesha was swimming the deep mountain when I was no older than Ulya. His song is like nothing you’ve ever heard.”

  “You asked why we sing before we sleep,” said Ulya. “It comforts us. Also, Shaw is teaching us songs. Sometimes, we practice them together.”

  “Aren’t you afraid that lishties will hear you?”

  Ulya giggled. “Oh, they’re more likely to run away if they hear us. Lishties don’t like telshee songs.”

  All this talk of songs put the drove to humming. They often did that—not a full-mouthed song, but a harmonized humming as they moved along. It was a little eerie. Far more eerie was their ability to speak while humming. They could carry on a conversation without breaking their hum, although if the discussion required concentration, they often stopped. Once, during a song, Storm could have sworn that Shaw was harmonizing with herself in two voices. Storm thought he understood why their songs might frighten lishties. In full cry, the drove sounded much larger than seven animals. Listening to them, Storm could have sworn there were fifty or more.

  “I frightened a creasia once by pretending to be a telshee,” he said.

  Of course, they had to have the story. The entire drove was delighted and begged Storm to demonstrate his telshee song, but he was overcome by sudden shyness. “It doesn’t sound anything like you,” he said. “Really, the cat must have been half-deaf.”

  “You must tell Keesha that story,” said Shaw. “He will be terribly amused.”

  Storm had noticed how the other telshees looked at each other whenever Shaw talked about Keesha. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he didn’t think it meant anything good. “Is Keesha sick?” he asked.

  “No,” said Shaw, a little too clipped.

  Storm tried again. “He’s one of the old ones, though—one of the males. Is he the oldest?”

  “The oldest that wakes,” said Shaw. “He does not lay eggs anymore, and I cannot remember the last time he could be bothered to sire a pup. We call him Syra-lay. It means Lord of the Deep—not just the deep ocean, but the deep and secret ways beneath the mountain.”

  “And he wants to meet me?” asked Storm in a small voice.

  Shaw sighed. “He will. You have something that belongs to him…and you will remind him of a friend.”

  Storm looked down at the blue stone with its black core. He was still wearing it around his neck. “Coden was friends with Keesha?”

  Shaw inclined her head. “No one knows how long a telshee may live…if she manages to avoid all the dangers of the sea and land. But we do know that old telshees enter periods of torpor—like hibernation. They sleep, sometimes for years. Eventually, they never wake. Keesha was sleeping a great deal when Coden first started coming here.

  “Telshees and ferryshaft have an ancient history, but we had not been much involved with one another for generations. Coden would sit and talk to our Syra-lay. He always called him Keesha—to remind him of his youth. Eventually, Keesha started listening. Coden would ask him questions about other lands, and Keesha would tell him.”

  Shaw shook her head. “I think he told Coden things he won’t tell us! They made plans—mad, insane plans—but it made Syra-lay happy. Coden talked of traveling the ways of the deep mountain. Preposterous! I don’t think a ferryshaft would survive in the otherways—”

  “Otherwise,” murmured Storm. “Walk with me otherwise.” “Did they do it?” he asked aloud. “Did they leave Lidian?”

  “No. Arcove had become a threat, and the ferryshaft chose Coden to lead them. Coden was well-liked, known for his tricks. He convinced Keesha to help in the war.”

  “Why was there a war?” asked Storm. “I asked Pathar once, and he said that ferryshaft and creasia have been fighting forever. Is that true?”

  Shaw considered. “Near enough. Creasia have always been the largest land predator on Lidian. Our stories say that they were the last to learn to speak—because cats are stubborn and hate change, and they would rather fight than talk. They
do not write, as far as I know.

  “Other species banded together to protect themselves from creasia. Ferryshaft went into the forest every spring and killed most of the cubs. Creasia were not well-organized. They fought among themselves and even killed their own cubs frequently. They are a vicious species. Their king was the cat most capable of beating all the others in a fight—a bully, not a leader.”

  “But Arcove was different?” asked Storm.

  Shaw’s lip curled. “Different, yes. They say he killed a member of the creasia council when he was only a cub himself. He was certainly very young when he came into his power. He began organized attacks on the ferryshaft almost at once. By the time he was finished, there were hardly any ferryshaft left. The entire southern plain is empty now, except for lowland curbs, which I hear have become numerous. The ferryshaft were overconfident, it’s true, and their leaders at the beginning of the war made many mistakes. By the time they put Coden in charge, it was all-but hopeless. It would have been hopeless without us. Keesha let Coden use our tunnels and secret caves to hide and to ambush. He sent telshees to fight alongside ferryshaft.

  “We can be fierce, Storm, but adult telshees have never been numerous. Lidian is our nursery. We come here to rest, to make love, to raise our young, to share our histories, and to die. We are not a warring race. We had not involved ourselves in a land war since the days of the humans, but Keesha did it for Coden, and we did it for Keesha.

  “Many telshees died in the fighting—too many. We lost knowledge, lost history, lost pups and lovers and friends. In the end, we lost the war and Coden. I thought Keesha might grieve himself to death.”

  Storm didn’t know what to say. “But he didn’t?”

  “No. He went to sleep. And he hasn’t woken much since.”

  Over the next sleeping and waking cycles, they began to encounter more telshees, and Storm could see that the drove relaxed. “We are unlikely to meet lishties here,” Shaw explained. “The telshees we just met are a border patrol. This territory is ours.”

  “You came a long way for me,” said Storm.

  Shaw smiled. “Yes.”

  “The ely-ary…he’s your friend?”

  Shaw gave a noncommittal motion of her head. “Ely-ary and telshees have an understanding. We are the only two species who leave Lidian. They do not travel as far as we do. However, I have encountered the occasional wind-blown bird alone on the vast sea, and I have guided those creatures home. Ely-ary remember such debts.”

  They were coming now to a series of caves amid a confusing mixture of underground rivers and hot springs. Curtains of steam billowed between fantastic, lacy walls of stalactites and crystal—all lit by the faint, green glow of the acriss. Shaw navigated this maze with ease. The telshees were clearly home. Others called to them as they passed, splashing out of pools and uncoiling from the shadows and out of side passages.

  For the first time since telshees had rescued him, Storm felt nervous. Their scent was very strong in the cave, and it triggered instinctive fear. It didn’t help that they all stared at him—not quite hostile, but not quite friendly, either.

  Storm remembered what Shaw had said. “We lost knowledge, lost history, lost pups and lovers and friends. Keesha did it for Coden, and we did it for Keesha.”

  I wonder if they wish they hadn’t.

  Shaw stopped abruptly. Peering around her, Storm saw another adult, almost as big as Shaw. She blocked the way, bristling, and Shaw moved forward to speak to her. Storm heard the other telshee say, “You’ve got some nerve! Bringing that here.”

  Shaw answered more quietly. Storm heard the other’s response, “Well, it’s none of our concern if they’re dying! We will be dying if we’re not very careful, or haven’t you noticed?”

  More muttered conversation. The pups who’d traveled with him formed a little ring around Storm, keeping the other telshees from coming too near. Storm felt small and vulnerable. He heard the other adult’s voice again, this time with a sneer, “Good luck with that. He hasn’t stirred in a year at least.”

  “He has,” snapped Shaw, her voice finally raised in anger. “I spoke with him recently.”

  The other telshee sniffed. “Why does no one else ever hear these conversations, Shaw? Keesha sleeps the final sleep. He will never sing again in waking life. We should name a new Syra-lay.”

  “And who would that be?” growled Shaw over her shoulder. “You?”

  The other telshee lowered her head a little. “Of course not. Emyl, if she ever returns.” She hesitated. “You, perhaps. You may have all the charm of a leopard seal, but you are at least awake.” She said this last like a joke and a peace offering.

  Shaw snorted, but didn’t turn around. “Come, Storm. You others, well done. Take your rest.” The drove dispersed immediately, talking in low voices. They did not look back. Storm felt very alone. He followed Shaw into a passage that sloped steeply downwards. It was dark, and they walked for so long that Storm began to grow tired and wished for something to eat and drink. The air grew very warm. At last, he saw the familiar green glow ahead and surmised that they were about to enter a cave with water. He heard something, too—a low, melodic hum that made his skin prickle.

  Shaw turned to him, her face in shadow. “Storm, what you are about to see is not for ferryshaft eyes. Coden was here, it’s true, but no other creature, other than telshees. Not even our pups are allowed to come here until they have gone away and returned twice.”

  “You don’t have to—” began Storm, but Shaw hushed him.

  “It may take some time to get his attention. I want you to be patient. I saved your life, remember?”

  Storm bowed his head. He understood now. Somehow I am supposed to save your friend. “I will do my best, Shaw.”

  “Thank you.” She stopped a little farther on before the opening to a side passage. The hum had grown loud. Shaw raised her voice a little over the weird music. “Welcome to the Dreaming Sea.”

  Chapter 5. Syra-lay

  Storm found himself looking down into a large cavern that was mostly underwater and must have connected to the ocean, because it was rising and falling gently as though with a tide. The water steamed, so that Storm suspected hot springs beneath the surface, and it glowed green with acriss. The ceiling was only half visible, lost in steam and shadow.

  A number of extraordinary creatures lay in the water—telshees of immense size. Their furry coils looped across the floor, entwined with each other in a confusion of soggy white. Storm spotted one’s head. It could easily have fit Shaw’s head in its mouth.

  Shaw beckoned him from the water below. “Do you want to jump?”

  Storm wasn’t sure. It would be a long jump. “How deep is the water?”

  “It varies,” said Shaw. “The bottom is solid rock and slippery. Will you let me lift you?”

  Storm swallowed. He tried not to think about all of her very sharp teeth. “Could you sing me down?” he joked.

  Shaw did not laugh. “Perhaps. You wouldn’t like it much.”

  Storm shut his eyes. “Just do it.”

  He was surprised at how gently she scooped him up. She did not use her mouth, but a coil of her neck. A moment later, he was on the floor in warm, flank-deep water that smelled faintly of minerals and strongly of telshee. Shaw was already sliding away, her body making a faint swish as she navigated the coils of the sleeping giants.

  Storm followed her, sometimes walking, sometimes swimming. He stared as they went. The telshees looked dead, and some even had green mold and barnacles crusted in their fur. One had coral growing around him. There were all kinds of fish in the water—not just the white cave fish, but reef fish and crustaceans. They scurried and swam to get away from Shaw and Storm.

  Storm knew that the telshees weren’t truly dead, no matter how they might look, because they were humming. The sound was low and melodic, and now that Storm moved among them, he could see the vibration on the surface of the water and feel it in the stone beneath his feet. Th
e sound was incredibly soothing. Listening to it, Storm thought that he would not mind lying down here among the coral and the brightly colored fish in the soft glow of the acriss and going to sleep…

  “Storm!” said Shaw sharply, and he realized that he’d sat down and rested his chin on a coil of white fur. “Do not go to sleep here,” she admonished. “It would take me days to wake you!”

  “Sorry,” muttered Storm as he staggered up. “I didn’t realize…” He shook his head and blinked hard. “Talk to me. Why are they all here? Are they really still alive?”

  Shaw sighed. “We have a saying in Syriot—that if the world doesn’t kill you, it will break your heart. I suppose only the truly ancient understand. I didn’t used to, but…I’m beginning. Keesha told me once that they dream of the past—that they relive their long lives, sometimes making changes as they wish. I admit, there are moments when that sounds pleasant.”

  “Aren’t you afraid they’ll drown?” asked Storm.

  Shaw laughed. “A telshee’s nostrils close without conscious effort when her head is underwater, and we can hold our breaths for a long time. If these grow uncomfortable, even in their sleep, they’ll shift their heads.” Storm saw that most of the telshees had their heads resting on several loops of their bodies.

  Shaw stopped before a hump of white fur. “Storm,” she said softly, “this is Syra-lay—Lord of the Deep, oldest of those who wake, and Keesha-that-was.”

  Storm spied the telshee’s head. He was perhaps a third again the size of Shaw—a huge creature, but not so immense as some of the others in the room. He was coiled more neatly than the rest, and his fur was cleaner. Storm thought his humming was a little louder, although it might only be that he was closer.

  “Keesha,” continued Shaw. “This is Storm Ela-ferry. He has brought you the Shable and some stories that I think you will like. Arcove has been hunting him.”

  Storm thought that the tone of Keesha’s humming changed at the mention of Arcove. The great sides moved in a noticeable breath. Shaw looked pleased. She began to hum along with Keesha. The song mingled in a hypnotic aural dance. It did not make Storm want to sleep. It made him feel restless, which he was sure Shaw intended.