CHAPTER SIXTEEN - Meela
Eriana’s Gift
I pointed southwards, and then back to Spio, trying to make sense of this. Though I’d never met him, I felt a wave of relief on Lysi’s behalf that he was alive and unharmed.
“What are you doing way out here?”
“The Arctic isn’t part of any kingdom, so it’s a good place to hide,” he said.
I glanced around at the barren iceberg hell that had just tried to kill me. The baitball had scattered, plunging us back into isolation.
“I guess. If you can stand it.”
“Stand it!” said Spio. “Good one.”
I raised an eyebrow.
He pointed at his tail. “Stand it?”
When I still didn’t respond, he said, “It’s not that bad, being a nomad. It’s given me the chance to think about the universe and existence and life and everything.”
We nodded wisely.
Spio motioned to my crossbow. “Is that all you have with you?”
“I’m pretty good with it.”
He jabbed a thumb at his backpack. “I got a few weapons, kelp pus, and a couple of emergency buoys in here, if you need anything.”
Kelp pus and buoys? I wondered what use those would be, but didn’t feel like betraying how little I knew, so I just said, “Thanks.”
We fell silent for a moment, looking at each other.
Spio swam past me. “So, you think she went this way?”
I followed. I supposed this meant Spio and I would stick together, now, and I was grateful for the company.
“I don’t know. This is the direction we were headed when I lost her.”
“She can’t have gone too far. What happened?”
I explained how we were separated by the breaking glacier.
“Do you think Lysi would have continued to the Pacific?” I said. “Or do you think she would have gone back the other way to look for me?”
Spio considered. “She would do whatever she thinks you would do.”
I groaned. “I’m trying to do whatever she would do!”
“I believe that is what’s called Capelin’s Conundrum.”
I’d never heard of such a thing, but I took his word for it. We wove through the ice floes, Spio in the lead like he knew exactly where we were going.
“How long have you been up here?” I said.
“I can’t keep track because of the sun. Hey, have you seen any belugas?”
“Sorry.”
“Guess not,” said Spio thoughtfully. “Well, I managed to train an attack pod.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. The command is—” He hesitated, then said, “Better not, in case they’re nearby.”
I glanced around, half expecting to find a swarm of them coming after us.
“I ran out of bait,” said Spio, “so they left me behind yesterday.”
“Oh.”
We swam for a long time in silence. I wanted to punch the stupid icebergs everywhere. Every time I felt movement, it turned out to be shifting ice.
“How far could she have gone?” I said, trying to sound casual.
Spio didn’t answer. After a while, he said, “You dudes didn’t decide on an emergency meeting spot? Any kind of plan in case you got separated?”
“No,” I said defensively. “We’ve always been able to …”
I looked away.
“To find each other?” said Spio, giving me a that’s cute sort of grin.
It was true. Even as kids, we’d known where to meet. It was always the same beach, at the same tide pool, the time agreed upon by the tides and—
I expelled a large bubble. “Oh!”
I looked to the surface. A thick layer of ice was stopping us from breaching, but there was a crack in it a short ways ahead.
Maybe she had left me a sign, like she used to do with rock towers. If she dove, she would be able to find shells and rocks and all kinds of things to work with.
Spio followed me to the crack without question. I paused before breaching, feeling for movement or any sort of presence. When I was reasonably sure there were no bears, I poked my head out and looked around eagerly.
My heart sank. I’d been so sure I would find a rock tower, covered in webs of frost, pointing me in the right direction. But the area was as white and deserted as everything else.
Spio surfaced next to me.
“We can leave a sign for her,” I said, voice carrying across the emptiness. “If we dive, I can get some rocks.”
“What about this?” Spio pointed at the thin layer of powdery snow.
There was a shallow groove, barely visible, with a crook at the end. An arrow.
“I think maybe we’re going the right way,” he said.
I stared at it. He was right. This groove was from a finger. It hadn’t formed naturally. Affection swelled in my heart for Lysi, and how clever and resourceful she was—followed by a wave of relief. If we swam quickly, maybe we could catch up.
We swam in the direction the arrow pointed.
“Why were you and Lysi in the Atlantic, anyway?” said Spio.
“She wanted to convince Medusa to help end the war.”
Spio opened his mouth, but nothing came out, so he closed it.
“Medusa refused to help,” I said. “But the trek wasn’t a total waste.”
Given that Spio was Lysi’s closest friend, I decided to relay everything the queen had told us about Adaro.
“So he never did find his father?” said Spio. “Dang. I’d feel bad for the guy if he wasn’t such a jerk.”
I said nothing. It was hard to imagine any universe in which I could feel sorry for Adaro.
We found another air hole and surfaced. There was no arrow—but it hadn’t been long, so maybe Lysi hadn’t breached here. We kept going.
“Now you’re going to find him, right?” said Spio. “You’re going to get him when he can’t fight back?”
I hesitated. Our plan was to go back to Kori Maru, first. But did we need to? The Reinas had been no help to us, anyway.
We’d spent enough time waiting. It was time to take action.
“Yes,” I said firmly.
Spio raised his webbed fists in victory. “Any idea where he goes?”
“All we have to go on is his pattern of attacks, which isn’t even much of a pattern.”
As we swam side-by-side, I drew an invisible outline of the Pacific Ocean with my fingers and did my best to explain where Adaro had targeted so far.
“Interesting,” said Spio. “Have you heard of the Bermuda Triangle?”
“Yeah, of course. Why?”
“It would appear there’s some kind of similar triangle of death in the Pacific Ocean. Except this one ends in people being eaten by a giant serpent.”
“I wouldn’t call it a triangle.”
We found another gap ahead and surfaced. There was another arrow. Spio made me high-five him. We adjusted our course and continued.
“Once we find him, I think we should get him with a wooden stake,” said Spio. “Or fire. I don’t know. What’s the most creative way you’ve seen a human die?”
I grinned. Finally, someone to share my dark daydreams with.
Before I could put my gruesome ideas into words, something large hit my senses from ahead. Spio and I stopped. It couldn’t be Lysi; it was much too big.
Several possibilities flashed across my mind, from a ship, to an army, to a massive school of sardines. Then it occurred to me that it was a singular presence.
“Spio, is that a whale?”
He nodded. “Don’t worry. You’ll be safe with me beside you. Not like if you were by yourself. It’s mating season, which means the males can’t tell the difference between you and a female whale.”
I cast him a look of horror.
“Nobody told you?” he said. “Yeah, you need to be careful this time of year. If one comes after you, best thing to do is play dead.”
When I kept staring, he said, “I’m kidding, Meela.”
I smiled in spite of myself.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s dive. We still don’t want to cross paths with it.”
I followed him deeper so we could pass it at a distance.
The whale drifted over us slowly, the current pulsing with every beat of his tail. I frowned, noticing an irregular rhythm.
“Spio, feel that?”
“What about it?”
“The way he’s moving. His stroke is all off. I think he’s hurt.”
Spio followed my gaze into the distance, where the whale laboured along out of sight.
After a moment, he said, “Yeah. I think you’re right.”
My insides melted a little. “Can we help him?”
“Uh …”
“Please?”
Part of him must have wanted to, because he didn’t immediately say no.
I started in that direction.
“Fine,” he said, “but if he gets all crazy and stuff, we’ll have to turn tail.”
It took us a few minutes to get to the whale, an adult orca. It was easy to see what was wrong. His entire body was wrapped in an enormous fishing net, white buoys hanging off him from nose to tail.
His dorsal fin was as tall as me, his overwhelming size rendering me light-headed. But he was thin, listless. He eyed us as we approached, and we stopped.
“Will he attack?” I said.
“I don’t know,” said Spio.
I followed for a moment. The orca’s attention stayed on me, its aura blanketing the current, not unlike those I felt in merpeople. Spio hung back.
“You really should be careful, buddy. Orcas aren’t exactly friendly to merpeople.”
“Believe me, I’ve had plenty of bad experiences with them.”
The nightmare of the Massacre was still fresh in my memory, when Adaro’s army had used orcas to try and capsize our ship.
I swam alongside the animal at eye level, ready to zip away if his mood changed. His flesh was puckered near his face where the ropes cut deeply. My heart ached to see it.
“All right, boy,” I said in my most soothing tone. “I’m going to help you.”
The orca looked right at me. The small, black eye was so expressive it was as though he was trying to communicate with me. When I focused on his aura, I felt pain and resignation.
“Pass me that blade of yours, Spio.”
My tone was so final that he didn’t argue.
Spio moved closer to pass me the blade, and the whale tensed. Its eye shifted back.
“Stop,” I said quickly.
Spio obeyed, but the whale didn’t relax.
“Back up.”
Only when Spio had returned to his original distance did the whale’s eye return to me.
“Stay there,” I said, and swam out to Spio to grab the blade.
Slowly, I returned to the whale’s immense tail, which was the size of a kitchen table. I followed the languid up-and-down motion for a moment before reaching gingerly for the net.
The whale didn’t protest.
I began slicing the ropes, careful not to pull.
The whale stopped moving. I paused, ready to flee, but felt no aggression. He drifted upwards until he brushed the surface. The distant hiss of his spout sounded as he took a breath.
I kept slicing while the whale lingered, resting limply while drawing long breaths. He cast the occasional leery glance back to Spio, as though to make sure he wasn’t going to swim closer.
“There’s one explanation for this,” said Spio. “You have secret whale whispering powers and should be captured and studied.”
“He’s like this because he’s injured.”
“I’m pretty sure injured whales are even more crazy than ordinary ones.”
“He knows I’m trying to help.”
“No, he clearly likes you better than me. Have you considered donating your body to science?”
“Spio, there’s nothing special about me. I’m just …”
I lifted a shoulder. What was I? Patient? Gentle? Compassionate? I’d proven to be anything but those things these past weeks.
Still, Eriana came to mind. My own ancestor had been known as a charmer of animals. She had a way of communicating with them, a gift unparalleled by anyone. That was what led her to control the leviathan. Empathy for all living things was her greatest strength.
Maybe I had that part of Eriana in me.
I kept sawing the ropes until the tail was free, working quickly while trying not to pull and cause the orca more pain.
The whale drifted up and down with the waves, so limp he might have been dead.
“Nearly there, baby.”
I moved to his face. Between his jaws, each tooth was the size of my thumb. The ropes here were worse, embedded in his nose. It would be painful to pull away—but worse to leave it.
I focused on cutting the ropes until the moment came.
The whale seemed to know freedom was close, because he began swimming again, slowly but with more confidence.
I sped up, cutting quickly. And then the only thing left to do was pull the rope away from his nose.
I steeled myself, both hands wrapped around the rope. I shot forwards.
The rope caught a little as it pulled from the whale’s flesh. He groaned and wriggled away.
The entire fishing net, all tangles and white buoys, hung like a corpse from my fists. The whale was free.
With a burst of agility, he whirled to face me. I winced. A flash of panic crossed my mind as I wondered if the jaws were about to open.
For a long moment, the whale and I were nose-to-nose. I stayed perfectly still, pulse pounding, terrified that the slightest movement would cause him to snap.
Gently, he closed the distance between us. I blinked as our faces touched.
Then he turned, and his large, glassy eye stared at me, unblinking.
Finally, the orca turned away. He flipped his enormous tail fin with enough force that the current thrust me backwards. I let out a breath, stunned and relieved and elated all at once. The orca shot away from us, faster, faster, until his black body faded to blue. I kept watching long after he disappeared.
Spio came to meet me, picking up the trailing end of the net. “That was so cool,” he breathed. “What do we do with this?”
I tore my eyes from the empty water. “Right. We can’t leave it to float around for something else to get tangled in. Let’s find the nearest shore and put it on the beach. Hopefully someone will pick it up.”
Lugging the net with us, we continued on the path Lysi was hopefully travelling—but now we also had to find a place to dump this gargantuan piece of litter.
After mere minutes, the net grew painful in my fists. My pity for the whale increased.
“What’s wrong?” said Spio.
I flexed my cramped fingers. “I see things like this, and I understand why Adaro wants humans out of the sea.”
Spio was silent for a long time. Then he said, “I could be in the wrong wake here, but I don’t think Adaro’s reason for blitzing humans is to save animals from fishing nets.”
Maybe that was true, but it still bothered me. Was Adaro right about humans? Were we—they—no better than he thought?
“You know,” said Spio, “you’re different than you let on.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your aura was all—I don’t know, sharky—when we met. It’s better now. More like what I imagined you’d be like.”
I avoided his eyes. Not for the first time, I had the feeling I’d been letting Lysi down.
“Getting that close to an injured killer whale was probably a stupid thing to do,” I said.
“You’d be surprised how often the stupid thing is the right thing,” said Spio.
Not long after, I began to wilt with exhaustion. It must have been night time. For all I knew, we’d swum until dawn, no thanks to the sun rotating around us in a slow-motion taunt.
Everything around me seemed to have a silvery glow. How long had I been awake? How long could someone stay awake before losing sanity?
“Next break in the ice,” said Spio. “Let’s take a nap. You’re about to pass out on me.”
I had no energy to argue.
We found a break in the ice, but tremors in the waves told me there was a huge something already up there. I squinted at the green underside as though to see through.
“With numbers like that, I have two guesses,” said Spio. “It’s either walruses, or a cruise ship let off and there are tourists having a fiesta on the ice.”
Deciding to place my bet on the walruses, I poked my head up.
Dozens of enormous, chocolate-brown lumps of blubber were resting atop the ice on all sides, grunting so loudly it was as if they were all shouting at each other. I’d thought walruses would be cute, but up close, that was a stretch. Odour aside, they were lumpy, wrinkled, and scabby-looking, with thick white whiskers coming out of greasy muzzles. But their collective aura was content, so I decided they weren’t bad. I began to pull myself up.
“Whoa, buddy!” said Spio, appearing beside me and grabbing my arm. “You can’t just go up to a walrus.”
I looked at the nearest one. He was so blubbery, it looked like if I slapped him on the back his fat would ripple as fluidly as if I dropped a stone in a pond. I squinted at Spio, wondering if he was joking.
“Walruses are jerks, Meela.”
“They are?”
“You think those lung-poppers are for decoration?”
I supposed their tusks were easily as long as my arm.
I slumped. “So - tired.”
“I know. We’ll find something soon. A little—”
He looked down, staring at the surface.
“What?” I said.
Without a word, he submerged. I glanced longingly at the occupied ice around me, and followed.
“Crap,” said Spio.
“What is it?”
“We’ve got a situation thirty-seven here. Military line.”
I followed his gaze into the distance. An army of mermen—a hundred, at least—stirred faintly.
My blood ran cold. “Adaro’s?”
“It’s most likely.”
“Which way do we go?”
Spio checked each direction before saying, “There. We should be able to go around.”
We continued northeast, picking up our pace. The net weighed more painfully than ever. I hoped Spio knew what he was doing. I tried to feel the current, to pick out an identity and determine if this actually was Adaro’s army, or something else.
I stopped. “Wait.”
Spio turned, mouth open to argue. Then his expression slackened, and he spun back towards the army.
He felt it too. Lysi. Her presence was on the current.
My excitement turned to horror.
“Spio, who is she with?”
He grimaced. “I hate to say it, buddy, but it doesn’t feel like our friend is in particularly good company.”
“They captured her? What are they planning to do with her?”
We needed to save her. She was alive—but for how long? Could we smuggle her away?
Spio looked down at the net in our hands, and then into the distance, and then back to me. A smile spread across his face.
And then he said something I was sure instilled fear in the hearts of merpeople everywhere.
“I have a plan.”