From Level 522: Practice this every day for one or two years and you will gain the strength to uproot a tree from its roots and break its trunk. At that point you may think you have gained mastery, however, this is only the first step.
DAIPUNA: THE ART OF COMBAT
The next morning, Ani awoke refreshed thanks to the sparring session with Roshon. And her mood improved even more when Machen returned early, his brother Braloch in tow. They’d located an elder in a nearby pod that was friendly with his group of juveniles. Dolphins had long clan memories with tales passed down through the generations, and the elder recalled a story so strange that many had stopped telling it. Ani suspected it might be added back into the rotation given current events.
The elder had said that in the time of the Forty-Fourth Great Ocean War, which would have been about five hundred years ago, a ship sailed to the Okkapu from the east. This vessel wasn’t full of greedy treasure seekers with more avarice than sense; it was of Elsiran build and manned by experienced sailors. The crew survived the area’s legendary storms nearly unscathed.
Apparently, the dolphin ancestors had watched the ship move so smoothly through the tempest, it could only have been done with magical aid. Then the crew used a catapult to shoot an object deep into the water. With the additional force, it sank far faster than it should have, as if it wanted to be hidden. The ship turned around and left before the Orarinas were even aware of its presence. Many sea creatures believed that Myr had taken it easy on the humans because they were giving something to the ocean, not seeking to take.
A pod of juvenile dolphins had gone to investigate the object where it lay deep in the ocean, and found a bloodred stone. They reported that it had exuded wrongness, creating feelings of fear and pain. The one soul brave enough to touch it had convulsed before falling unconscious. When he awoke, he babbled nonsensically for days. He’d eventually recovered, but after that, word spread quickly, and all—even the selakki—avoided the resting place of the stone.
The story of how it came to be in the ocean may have fallen by the wayside, but the location remained legendary. Occasionally, a young male, headstrong and foolish and seeking to prove his mettle, would ignore the warnings and attempt to retrieve the stone. If they touched it, they suffered the same fate as the first dolphin and were overcome by a strange madness that lingered for days or sometimes weeks.
“Do you know where it is?” Ani asked.
Machen was grave as he answered yes.
Ani considered. “I won’t ask you to help us. I know you’re honor bound to protect the ocean and all its contents, but can you at least point us in the right direction?” For as friendly as dolphins could be to people they liked, they could not help a human find or steal anything belonging to the sea, even if it had originated above water. Their culture prohibited it.
I will take you there, he said. This death stone disturbs the sea. It is not like the other things humans seek. It has caused much pain and suffering. If the humans want it back, you should take it. Myr would be glad to be rid of it.
“Thank you. You are a true friend,” Ani told Machen. “We have to hurry. Noa is on our tail and gaining speed.”
Ani raced to the bridge to relay the message to Tai, and he set a course in the southwesterly direction Machen had indicated. He and Braloch swam just off the port bow, keeping pace with the ship.
There was no specific border that marked the Okkapu. The edges of the legendary region seemed to shift and change with the water itself. Tai’s charts marked the general area where the ancient island had sunk, but navigational instruments malfunctioned the closer one got, making precision impossible. The unlucky would realize they’d gone too far when a sudden squall erupted out of nowhere or they slammed into a hidden rock formation lurking beneath the water.
Ani and Tai were the only ones on the bridge—the others getting some much-needed rest—when the color of the water shifted before their eyes. She herself was running on fumes, having had a few naps, but overall remained too keyed up to do more. Now, she blinked, wondering if the lack of sleep was making her see things. The dark blue of the waves shifted to a light green, clear as an emerald. The ocean should definitely not be that color.
An indicator on the panel lit up. This was the sensor tuned to certain dolphin frequencies. Machen was whistling a hurried warning that made the light flash red. Not a trill of greeting, this one was for danger. Tai engaged the ship alarm and within a minute Mik rushed in.
“What is it?” He looked wild-eyed while Ani flipped through the sensors, verifying what her gut was telling her. Her skin turned cold. “Selakki. One-point-four kilometers.”
Mik visibly paled before running off. There was a flurry of movement at the door, and she caught sight of Roshon racing away, as well. Ani followed him out and found him fiddling with the latch to the rifle cabinet.
“Don’t bother with that,” she advised. “Selakki scales are impervious to bullets. Their bodies are almost impossible to pierce without high-grade ballistics like the cannon that got us the other day. Barring that, it takes twenty to thirty men to bring one down.”
“So how do you usually fight them?” he asked, breathing hard.
“Usually we run. If we can’t do that, the next best thing is to trap them in the nets and try to subdue them.”
“Subdue them?”
“And then we run. Besides, even if we could kill one, it’s illegal if we’re not harvesting.”
He gaped, obviously not understanding, but the way of the sea was sacred. Selakki were enemies of a kind, but Raunian life depended on them. Humans were not a favorite meal of the giant creatures, but they all lived in a painful cycle of conflict and tremulous peace.
The whine of the net motors sounded as Mik unfurled their only defense. Ani kneeled at the cabinet next to the guns to retrieve a harpoon launcher. Attached to the base of the long spear was a thinly packed net. Its webbing was like spider silk but strong as steel.
“When they swim close, the ship’s nets can catch them. But usually they’re too smart for that and we have to shoot the nets out. This edge—” she pointed to the spearpoint “—can hook onto the side of a scale. It won’t penetrate it, but it’ll keep the net in place until we soothe them. Hopefully.” She eyed the device with trepidation.
Her only big shipwreck was nearly eight years ago now and had been on the first Hekili. The selakki had come out of nowhere, bearing down upon them without warning. There had only been two of the beasts, and they’d been juveniles at that. But the nets hadn’t held and the chant hadn’t worked. The ship was smashed to pieces, and Ani and Father floated in the open sea for four days before Machen’s pod had come along and rescued them.
She shivered, recalling the sensation of cold seeping into her bones. The unrelenting sun beating down on her head, and the pain as her stomach convulsed with hunger. She rubbed her lips together now, remembering how blistered they’d become. Tai had been land-side on Raun with Mother. Somehow she and Father had survived, but it had been a near thing.
Fear shook her bones as she gripped the harpoon launcher tightly.
“You said soothe them? What does that mean?” Roshon had grabbed a second harpoon launcher from the cabinet and was fingering the fragile-looking strands of netting.
“They respond instinctively to certain acoustic patterns, a specific kind of harmonic blend. We have a recording that we use, but it’s only effective a small percentage of the time.”
A low vibration began to hum around the ship, and Ani’s heart nearly stopped. She closed her eyes and gathered her courage. Roshon had called her brave, but all she could feel was the crash of a barbed tail against the ghost of a ship, the panic as water slipped over her head, Father’s hand in hers as he pulled her onto the wreckage where they had been trapped for days.
The ship shook again. “That’s their call. Too low for human ears.” Her voice was a whisper she wasn’t certain Roshon could hear.
The growing, restless waves tossed the ship from side to side. How many of them were there? And what could they do? No one knew the true size of the Orarina clan as the older and larger selakki swam alone and didn’t often attack. Even one fully mature creature could destroy the ship with a flick of its tail.
No, their only hope was for a small hunting party, an offshoot of the main clan. She prayed to Myr it was merely one or two juveniles who were still susceptible to the chant that mimicked the one their mothers used to put them to sleep. It sounded like a mesh of voices in beautiful, aching harmony that would soothe even the most savage beast.
“Should you start playing the recording now? Since they’re close?”
She shook her head. “Unless they’re immobile in the nets, the chant just riles them up.”
The ship listed and continued to shake. Tai’s voice rang out on the intercom. “Looks like three of them. Midsize juveniles.”
Ani’s heart sank. She nearly dropped the harpoon launcher. “Three is too many.”
Roshon took the weapon from her hands, and she looked up with surprise. “Show me how to use it.”
He looked scared but determined, with a glint in his eye that reminded her of the first time she’d seen him. She nodded mutely and turned to lead him toward the stairs. They passed his father, who was on his way to the bridge.
“I’ll see what I can do to calm them with Earthsong,” Dansig said.
Once outside on the deck, Ani realized there was no clear view of the selakki. “We’ll have to go up to the gun deck.”
They went back inside and climbed up through the hatch. She engaged the clear shield, if only to protect them from a bit of wind and water, and scanned the area. Cutting through the ocean behind them, the jagged spikes of a selakki spine jutted out of the water.
The midsize juveniles, as Tai had called them, were about three-quarters the length of the ship itself. Ani suppressed a shudder as the beast undulated and its barbed tail flipped out of the water behind it. She spotted the second one to the right, but the third wasn’t visible until another impact rolled through the ship.
It was already on the other side of them and had just slammed into the Hekili. The hatch was still open, and alarms rang from the damage indicators. A hit like that might not breach, but it could certainly shake a few things loose.
“Got it!” Mik shouted through the speaker.
Ani ran to the starboard side and looked down. Sure enough, the netting sparkled silver around the beast that had just hit them.
“Unexpected,” she whispered. The debilitating fear that had gripped her body melted a fraction. Maybe they could do this. “Now that we’ve got one, the other two will be more careful,” she yelled to Roshon to be heard over the angry ocean. “They’ll try to hit us from below so we should aim to get them as they’re diving.”
It was exactly what Father had told her before the ship had broken apart in pieces underneath them.
Roshon held his own harpoon launcher and watched as she positioned and aimed hers. They were gunpowder operated with the distance and power needed to catch a creature within half a cable length. Ani held her breath, centered the selakki in her sights, and fired. The pointed arrow of the harpoon sailed through the air, now dim with the approaching dusk. It fell into the water with a splash, just as the creature’s tail disappeared. A miss. She didn’t even bother unfurling the net, just cursed and pressed the button to reel the tip back in.
Varten appeared beside his brother, and the two of them examined the launcher.
“Point, shoot, then release the net with that button there,” Ani directed.
The twins shared a wordless conversation before Roshon handed his brother the weapon. Ani focused on catching the line as it was sucked back into the launcher but looked up when Varten hooted.
“Got it!” he yelled.
She gaped at his prowess and turned, wide-eyed, to Roshon. “He’s the better shot,” Roshon admitted, lifting a shoulder.
“Two down!” she shouted into the hatch. She didn’t have eyes on the third one and expected the ship to jump from a blow from below, but it didn’t come.
“Dansig says he’s holding the third one. I’m going to start the recording,” Tai announced, voice staticky through the speaker.
Ani wondered at the fact that the Lagrimari man could handle an entire beast on his own, but she was glad for it. The two they’d captured were wriggling wildly in the nets, teeth snapping, as they tried to tear their bonds.
“That wasn’t too bad,” Roshon said.
She didn’t have the heart to tell him that the nets were actually the easy part. Eventually, if the creatures weren’t subdued, they’d be able to get through. Seaspider webs were strong, built to protect their young from predators like this one, but they weren’t impossible to destroy.
Ani motioned for the twins to plug their ears, and they did. A moment later, the chant began playing full blast from the intercom. Additional speakers placed around the ship broadcast and amplified the sound. No one had ever been able to record a real selakki mother cooing to her child in this manner, but divers had heard it and created the recordings to mimic it. Every ship that sailed this far west carried a copy if they wanted any hope of surviving.
The chant was hypnotic, a repetitive blend of voices in a chorus so pure and beautiful it was little wonder the sounds could soothe the raging monsters. But, as expected, before they were calmed, they were angered. The giant fish caught in the ship’s net began to buck and shake, rattling the entire vessel down to its struts.
The one Varten had captured was batting the waves in its agitation, seeking to be free of its bindings and away from the sound.
“How long does it take for them to calm down?” Roshon asked.
“It depends. Can take as long as an hour, sometimes less. As long as the nets hold, we should be okay. Once they’re completely motionless, we can cut them free and leave. They’ll be out for a few hours.” She’d never seen it happen before, though, and hoped what she’d learned was actually true.
They waited, watching as the protesting creatures slowly calmed, their movements quieting until they were little more than twitches. The sun set as the chant went on and on, soothing even the humans and draining the tension from Ani’s limbs. Her breath was steady. They’d all sat down to wait, checking on the selakki every few minutes to monitor their condition.
They were almost there, the fish sinking into unconsciousness, when the chant began to skip and stutter. Ani popped up and sped over to the hatch. Once she was through it, she raced to the doorway of the bridge. “What happened?”
“The phonograph canister cracked.” Tai’s voice was low and monotone. They both stared at the phonograph player, which was built into the wall of the room. “It was fine and then it just cracked out of nowhere.”
“Uh, you guys?” Varten called from above. “I think they’re waking up.”
“We just need a few more minutes!” Ani could hardly think, the panic returned so quickly.
Tai let out a string of soft curses with no real heat behind them. They looked at each other, Ani hoping her big brother had some secret plan up his sleeve. Myr knew they should have a backup recording, but they were so expensive. Only one group made them so they could charge what they wanted. Plus, the chances of the chant working were so small that nobody bothered.
Roshon appeared in the doorway.
“Canister broke,” she told him.
“Can you start over from the beginning?” he asked.
Ani shook her head and pointed at the thin cylinder sitting in the player. A wide crack ran through the deeper grooves on which the sound had been recorded. It was useless now. Subtle tremors began to shake the ship as the selakki became more agitated.
“Can we repair it?” Roshon looked as if he was holding back panic by a thread.
“Can’t we just sing the song?” Varten asked from behind his brother.
Everyone turned to stare at him. “Sing it?” Ani asked, incredulous.
“It would require a range of tones in perfect harmony,” Tai said.
“Well, do you have any better ideas?” Varten raised his brows.
Ani shook off her confusion and started really considering his idea. “Tai has a terrible voice.” Her brother snorted but didn’t disagree. “Mik might be able to, and I can try, but we’re not enough.”
“We can help,” Roshon added.
“There aren’t any words, it’s just . . . sounds.” She couldn’t believe this might be a real option.
He nodded impatiently. “We’ve just been listening to it for a half hour. I think we’ll be okay.”
The ship rumbled again as the selakki attached to it grew more restless, breaking free of the trance.
“We need to hurry,” Tai said.
Mik appeared in the doorway. “Status?”
“Warm up your vocal chords.”
The big man frowned in confusion as Tai placed the intercom microphone on the instrument panel. Varten explained the plan to him, and they all gathered around the main console. Dansig sat behind the co-captain’s chair, his eyes closed in concentration, still controlling the third selakki. Sweat popped on his brow, and Ani hustled into place before the microphone, trembling with nerves.
“If we do this wrong, they’ll just get angrier,” she warned.
Mik shot her a dark look. “So get it right!”
She cleared her throat and began the first notes of the chant. Her soprano lilted over the phonetic sounds, trying to match the recording. Mik’s bass filled in the bottom, matching her phrasing in harmony. Roshon’s strong tenor came in and then Varten, wrapping around his brother’s voice to give the additional harmonics the recording had produced.
It wasn’t perfect, but after a somewhat wobbly start, they found their footing, repeating the chant over and over, the balance of voices growing stronger.
Tears formed in Ani’s eyes and she closed them, living inside the chant. The musicality of the sound vibrating within her. She’d always found it beautiful, and recreating it slowly began to shrink the ball of fear that had taken up residence within her.
From somewhere close by she heard Tai’s whisper, “It’s working. Keep going.”
They kept at it as the beasts’ thrashing ceased and they fell into unconsciousness. Only after Tai left to release the net and returned to steer the ship away did they dare to stop.