It takes six dives for me to dig enough into the rocks to make the anchor fast. If anything, I wish it would have taken longer. I return to pacing and waiting. I help matters little by constantly glancing at my watch. Finally, when it reads five, I let out a sigh and begin staring at the water, waiting for Lorrel to arrive.
The day finally darkens. The wind shifts directions, turning my boat on its anchor, and yet Lorrel doesn’t appear. A slight tinge of heat starts to burn in my midriff. I rub the place with my right hand and wonder if it’s my imagination. But the burning increases until I wince. It feels like a lit cigarette being pushed into my skin.
“Lorrel!” I mindspeak. “Okay. You were right. I’m going to take my antidote. Come back so we can get on with the rest of it.”
The pain diminishes and returns minutes later, more intense, burrowing deeper into me. I groan. “Lorrel!” I mindspeak, and still receive no answer.
Getting up from the stern bench, holding my hand to my midriff, I rush forward to the helm, the burning intensifying with each step I take. I reach into the map compartment for the small bottle and gasp when I find it gone.
19
“Lorrel!” I mindspeak.
A rush of pain hits me and I double over, crumpling to my knees. “Lorrel, god damn it come back!” I mindspeak. “Lorrel!”
Fire burns through every centimeter, every cell where the Pelk girl stabbed me. I writhe on the deck, try to heal it away, but nothing I do relieves the pain. I call out to Lorrel again and damn her when she doesn’t reply.
By nightfall the pain has blossomed into a fireball burning in the middle of my body. I alternate from curling in a fetal position to lying stomach-down on the deck. Nothing helps. I think of the pain growing until it burns from my fingertips to my toes, as Lorrel warned, and I groan.
Later—how long I’m not really sure—a large splash erupts from the water on the starboard side of the boat. Something wet thuds down on the deck not far from my feet. Lorrel follows, barely making a sound as she comes over the coaming in her natural form. In the murky moonlight of a cloud-crowded sky, she looks like a black shadow flowing toward me.
“Where’s the damn antidote?” I mindspeak.
“Quiet, Peter.” She stands over me, studies me with her emerald-green eyes as I writhe before her. “Do you believe me now, or would you rather wait until it gets worse?”
“I want the antidote!”
“I could leave and come back in the morning. You would still be alive then.”
If I could I would lash out at her, rip her, leave her bleeding and dying on the boat’s deck, but I can do little more than shift my body in a hopeless search for relief. I draw in a breath, wince and mindspeak, “I believe you. You were right. Now would you please give me the antidote?”
“Much better,” Lorrel mindspeaks. She opens her mouth, reaches one claw into it and pulls out the small amber bottle. “You are a doubter. If I left the bottle where you placed it, you would have taken the antidote before you felt the full force of the poison. I did not want you to underestimate its power later.”
Lorrel crouches next to me, pauses, mindspeaks, “It will be easier in my human form,” and shifts to her human shape. She sits beside me on the deck, her legs splayed out and turns me on my back, guiding my head onto her naked lap.
Moving sends new bolts of pain shooting through me. I moan and Lorrel starts to hum, the notes low, vibrating through my body. “I know. I know how much it hurts.” She strokes my head with her right hand while she lifts the bottle to her mouth with her left. Pulling the cork with her teeth, she spits it aside.
Cradling my head tight against her flesh just under her small, firm breasts, the Pelk girl puts the bottle to my lips. “Not too fast, Peter. But remember, you must drink all of it,” she mindspeaks, pulling the bottle away after I take just a sip.
Greasy, warm liquid, bitter like tea brewed too strong, glides down my throat, heating everything it touches, but somehow cooling the fire inside me by a few degrees—though not enough—and leaving a bitter, lemony aftertaste. I reach for the bottle with my mouth, and Lorrel allows me another sip, her hum lightening, the tune washing over me, soothing me as each subsequent sip quenches the heat just a little more.
A quarter of the bottle still remains when the last vestige of fire disappears. I become aware of the wet touch of Lorrel’s bare skin and the fresh saltwater scent of her aroma. I try to lift my head and sidle away from her. But she holds me down, her hum growing louder, the notes washing over me.
“Be calm,” she mindspeaks, placing the bottle to my lips. “You must finish everything in the bottle. Otherwise the pain will come back too soon.”
Her tune reverberates in my head. I find it hard to think or resist, and continue to lie still, drinking from the bottle as long as she places it to my lips. By the time I finish the last drop, the antidote’s warmth and the gentle notes of Lorrel’s song have brought me to the edge of sleep.
“Remember this will only hold off the poison for a few days. You will need more then,” she mindspeaks. “Now, rest. I brought something special. I’ll wake you in a little while to share it with me.”
Sleep comes and I allow it to take me. But I remain aware of Lorrel’s humming, the tune keeping me on the edge of consciousness, my subconscious flitting from dream to dream.
I wake to the sound of Lorrel dragging something large across the cockpit floor. It lets out a weak, high-pitched whistle, clicking a few times as she pulls on it, and I sit up and stare at it.
The creature reaches hardly a few inches more than three feet, an infant dolphin. I look at the poor thing, blood still seeping from claw gouges beneath its jaw and from a bite taken from the middle of its underside. “It’s a miracle that it’s still alive,” I mindspeak.
The Pelk girl grins. “I was lucky. Its mother and most of its pod were busy feeding on a huge school of fish. I saw it swimming on the edge of the school and took it before any of them noticed. Old Notch Fin and the rest of the males must be furious.”
“Notch Fin?” I mindspeak.
Shapeshifting one finger into a claw, Lorrel nods, grabs the infant dolphin, holding its mouth closed with one hand as she cuts the beast open from front to rear with the other. It bleats out a shrill, brief whistle, shudders once and goes still.
She leans over the dead beast, mindspeaks, “Notch Fin is the lead male. You should see him. I do not think I have ever seen a larger dolphin. Mowdar says he leads the gathering of the pods. He has killed his share of Pelk. I have no doubt had he caught me, he would have killed me too.” Cutting a large chunk from the dead infant’s flank, Lorrel holds it out to me.
I eye the raw meat, saliva flooding my mouth, my empty stomach rumbling. “I don’t like to eat the young of any kind,” I mindspeak.
Lorrel laughs. “Undrae, how many humans have you killed and eaten? Were you so queasy with each of them? You try to take an adult dolphin by yourself! Even two of us sometimes fail at such a task. Now, eat it. We might not have a chance to feed again before we reach my srrynn.”
“My father always said he liked dolphins too much to feed on them. I always agreed with that,” I mindspeak. Still, the meat tempts me. It smells not much different than dog, which I’ve fed upon, mostly when culling the island’s dog pack. My empty stomach growls, but I still hesitate. “I’ve never eaten one before.”
“And I had never eaten a beef until you gave it to me.” Lorrel pushes the meat against my closed lips, and the smell of its fresh blood overwhelms any resistance I have left. Licking my lips, I take the meat from her and swallow a bite.
The taste reminds me of dog or pork, not as lean and slightly fishy, but sweeter too. Lorrel cuts two more pieces, hands me one and takes a bite from the other. We eat in silence, devouring chunks of meat, stopping only when the carcass has been devoured.
Lorrel points at me and laughs. “Look at yourself!” she mindspeaks.
I glance down at my blood-streaked chest and short
s, touch my face and feel the grease and other residue from my meal. Looking at Lorrel, I point back at the streaks coating her skin. “It looks worse on your white skin,” I mindspeak, laughing as she stares at herself and laughs too.
Shaking my head at the mess our meal has left on the boat’s deck, I stand, pick up the remnants of the poor little dolphin and carry it to the starboard side. Lorrel looks up just as I throw the remains overboard. “No, Peter! Do not throw that!”
What remains of the dolphin makes a pitiful splash as it hits the water. “You should have said something earlier. I didn’t think you wanted any of what was left.”
The Pelk girl shakes her head. “We are not the only creatures with a good sense of smell,” she mindspeaks.
I want to dive into the water, to wash myself clean, but Lorrel insists we wait. She sits and studies the water on the starboard side of the boat, insists on my doing the same on the port side.
A half hour passes without a strange ruffle or ripple in the water anywhere in our sight. Still, Lorrel insists we wait a half hour more before either of us dives into the water.
When the hour passes, she mindspeaks, “Do you think you could be more quiet this time? I cannot believe how clumsy you Undrae are in the water.”
“And I take it you want to show me how gracefully you Pelk fly?” I mindspeak.
Lorrel grins. “My apologies. The old ones teach us that each one of us carries his own gifts. Sometimes I forget that. But you still must try to be quiet tonight.”
I go to the stern of the boat. “I won’t dive. I’ll just lower myself into the water.”
Lorrel follows me, stands closer than I prefer. “Thank you. That should help.” She reaches for the snap on my cuttoffs. I step back.
“Your shorts are too soiled to be cleaned by a simple swim,” she mindspeaks. “Besides you will soon be in my srrynn. We wear no clothes there. It is time you forgot such foolishness.”
I can’t think of any retort. Ordinarily nudity, mine or anyone else’s, matters not a whit to me. I wonder at the unease that overtakes me around this Pelk female, wish I could be indifferent to her or at least find her less attractive. She reaches for my shorts again, and this time I let her take them.
“Good,” she mindspeaks, brushing past me, slipping into the water without a sound. “Do not stay in the water any longer than it takes to rinse yourself off.”
Nodding, I follow her. Lowering myself from the boat. I barely disturb the water as I slip into it.
Lorrel swims by me, the water hardly rippling as she does so. “Better, but I can still hear you!” she mindspeaks.
I ignore her, take a breath and sink below the water, swimming away from the boat with a slow breaststroke. Surfacing fifteen yards away, I tread water, looking back toward the Grady White, searching to see where Lorrel is while I rub my body clean with my hands as best I can.
Something erupts from under the boat, shooting toward me. “Change, Peter, change!” Laurell mindspeaks. I start to will my body to shift shape, but something hard and large rams into my right side before I can, cracking my ribs, forcing me to expel a loud huff of air.
Gasping for breath, I try to put my mind away from the pain and concentrate on changing shape. Something crashes into my left side, lower this time, and I bellow. Gulping breaths, my chest heaving, I slash through the water around me as soon as my claws emerge.
Lorrel shoots by, just out of my reach, already in her natural form. “Do not waste energy,” she mindspeaks. “Finish changing. They are circling. They always do. They will return as soon as they choose a good point—one that will let them pick up more speed.”
I sigh as my wings break free of my back and my tail stretches back behind me. Flexing my jaws, gnashing my newly grown fangs, I let out a low growl. “Just who are they?” I mindspeak.
Both beasts ram into my chest at full speed. I yowl, rake one of them down its side as it swims away, its blood spreading out in the water.
“They are dolphin males—from Notch Fin’s pod, I think,” Lorrel mindspeaks.
My ribs ache. Even worse, I taste my own blood rising up my throat. “Not Notch Fin himself?” I mindspeak.
“If he was one of your attackers, you would already be dead.”
“Why are they leaving you alone?”
“You are the bigger threat. They will turn on me when you are finished or whenever I attack one of them.”
“You might try that.”
“They are coming again!” Lorrel mindspeaks.
“Let them.” I flex my wings, scooping water with my first beat, shooting upward, grabbing air with the second beat of my wings, my attackers passing below me as I take to the air. From above, even in the cloudy night, I have no problem seeing their fins, the roiled water they leave behind them.
I fly upward just another few wing beats and then dive, striking the water and one of the males at the same time. The beast gives off a shrill whistle and tries to bolt away. But I dig all my claws, front and rear, into it. Frantically clicking, it dives to the bottom, twisting underwater, rubbing me against the stony bottom.
The beast has to measure over ten feet—larger than any of the dolphins I’m used to seeing near home. I drive my claws further into its body, bite down just behind its blowhole, blood streaming all around us. Still, it batters me again against the bottom.
The other dolphin, too close to gain much ramming speed, clamps its teeth on the meaty section of my tail. Stifling a yowl, conscious of the tightness building in my chest, I strengthen my hold on the first dolphin, rip at it, tearing chunks from it. Yet the beast continues to struggle, slamming me against the bottom again and again.
Lorrel darts past me, raking the second dolphin with her claws. Blood billows around it. It releases my tail and chases after her.
I continue to rip at my dolphin, chew at it until my teeth scrape against the bone of its skull. The creature manages to batter me against the bottom one last time before one of my fangs breaks through. Its once mighty tail twitches, then goes still. I know only one more bite or one more slash will end it, but I need air.
Releasing the dolphin, I shoot to the surface, gulping huge breaths as soon as my head breaks clear. Splashes sound near the boat, the water swirling as two creatures circle and collide. “Peter! I need your help!” Lorrel mindspeaks.
“Can it wait?” I tread water, draw in another breath.
The water erupts closer to me. Lorrel and the dolphin rise partially out of the water, the dolphin’s teeth sunk into the Pelk’s neck, holding on no matter how hard she gouges it with her claws. They stay that way for just a moment, then sink from view.
I gasp in a final breath and swim after them, the dark water so bloody that I have to rely on sound and touch to find them. Bumping into Lorrel’s haunch first, I feel my way to the dolphin male, rip my claws into him as I work my way to the underside of his jaw. I bite into his throat there, tearing at it until he releases Lorrel.
The Pelk girl goes into a frenzy, gouging thick furrows in the dolphin’s hide, biting, ripping, long after it ceases to move. I disengage and search the cove for the other male. I finally find him floating near the surface, his blowhole out of the water, wheezing as he takes short, shallow breaths.
My ribs and chest ache. Grimacing at the taste of my own blood still rising up my throat, I shake my head. Father would have been impressed with how these two fought. I can’t imagine having to fight more of them.
I dispatch the brave beast with a final swipe of my claw. “Lorrel,” I mindspeak. “Are you okay?”
“You saw what it was doing to me.”
Swimming back down, I find her still clinging to the dead, mangled dolphin. “It didn’t do anything that you can’t heal,” I mindspeak, tugging her away from her kill, towing her toward the boat.
She reaches back toward the carcass. “But we will need it for nourishment. How can we heal if we have nothing to eat?”
I look at the ragged condition of the dead dolph
in’s body and shake my head. “You aren’t the only one who just killed a grown dolphin. There’s more flesh left on my kill. It will provide more than enough to eat.”
Leaving Lorrel lying on the deck of the Grady White, I swim back and search for my kill. Just getting its carcass into the boat takes both of us struggling together. We push and tug the dead beast for almost half an hour until we finally slide it into place on the deck. By then Lorrel hardly has the strength left to rip its mid-section open.
We both fall on it as soon as she does so, our stomachs empty from the energy spent shapeshifting and fighting. Lorrel feeds by my side, both of us burying our snouts in the fresh raw meat, ripping chunks, gulping almost without chewing. The Pelk girl’s cheek presses against mine as we feed, her flank warming my flank, her tail draped over my tail.
Afterwards, Lorrel continues to lie beside me. She begins to hum. “I have to. It is part of how we heal,” she mindspeaks. “It soothes me.”
I know I should object or at least move away, but the tune weaves itself into my thoughts, soothing me too. I smile as my muscles relax and I concentrate on healing my own wounds. If anything, the warmth of Lorrel’s body pressed against mine and the irregular notes she hums seem to help.
As my healing comes to an end and languor begins to overtake me, I mindspeak, “So, you’ve already poisoned me, shanghaied me and led me into a fight with dolphins. Any special activities planned for tomorrow?”
Lorrel presses slightly closer, stroking my tail with hers. “Sleep, Peter. Save your questions for Mowdar. If all goes well, we will be with him by tomorrow night.”
20
In the morning, Lorrel wakes me by slapping her tail lightly on mine. “Get up, Peter. We have much to do.” I sit up, look at the gore our kills have left on the Grady White’s deck and groan. Then I wonder if any new dolphins have come and whether we’ll have to fight again.
The Seadragon's Daughter (Dragon de la Sangre) Page 13