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 dolphin’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.
I get to my feet. Peering into the water, now calm and clear enough that I can see bottom in all directions, I study the entire cove.
“I already looked. There are no dolphins here,”
Lorrel mindspeaks.
“But I am afraid of what we might face on the outside.”
Staring out at the open water, I mindspeak,
“Just how many dolphins are in Notch Fin’s pod?”
“Not very many. But there are times when he leads a joining of the pods—a gathering—sometimes a hundred dolphins swimming together, sometimes more—males, females and children.”
I turn back to her.
“So many? The pods around us rarely have much more than a dozen.”
Lorrel nods.
“Ocean-going pods are bigger. I have seen a few of Notch Fin’s gatherings number over two or three hundred.”
“And you took one of their young?”
“I was hungry. You ate it too!”
Shaking my head, I notice the rows of angry red wounds, closed but still not completely healed, on Lorrel’s neck. Reaching out, I touch my claw to the side of one wound and mindspeak,
“Are you healed enough to travel?”
She pulls back.
“I told you we heal differently than you Undrae. My injuries will not interfere with what I need to do. All I need is to rejoin my srrynn. Then all will be made well. We have not even a half day’s swim to go. . . .”
I groan.
“We could take the boat.”
The Pelk girl shakes her head.
“It might bring attention too close to my srrynn. If you are willing, I can teach you a way we can most probably pass Notch Fin’s pod safely. But you will have to trust me.”
After one last check of the anchor, Lorrel and I swallow down the last of the dolphin meat and slip into the water.
“Now what?”
I mindspeak.
The Pelk girl’s form begins to shrink and smooth out, turning gray, growing fins and then flukes.
“We swim,”
she mindspeaks.
I look at the gray bottle-nosed dolphin now in front of me. Only its emerald-green eyes and the puncture wounds give any sign as to her true identity.
“You swim,”
I mindspeak.
“I have no idea how to change into a dolphin.”
“But I do,”
the Pelk girl mindspeaks.
“I can show you, if you let me.”
She swims close to me, both of our heads out of water. Pressing her head against mine, she begins to hum a strange, low tune. Its notes vibrate into my skull and tingle my teeth. I jerk my head back.
“Peter! You must allow this!”
Lorrel presses her head against mine again.
“Listen,”
she mindspeaks, resuming her tune.
“Do not fight it. Empty your mind of thought. Allow the music to overtake you.”
The notes bore into me. I stare across the cove at a large boulder and focus my eyes on it. An image of Chloe comes to mind and fades away as the tune intensifies, vibrating through me. I concentrate on each note, on the rise and fall of the strange melody, the irregular rhythm of the song—all of it rushing into me, receding and rushing in again.
“Are you floating with it now? Does the tune have you?”
The words seem to ebb and flow somewhere inside me. I think about nodding, and sometime later I do.