Helliconia Summer - Brian W. Aldiss [423]
One of her familiars reared out of the water as if he had expected her coming, seizing the fabric of her dress in his mouth. She recognised him as a senior member of the inner court, and spoke his name. In his medley of calls was an urgent message she could recognise: stay away, or gigantic things – she could not determine what – would seize her. Something far off in the deeps had her scent.
Even the queen of queens was frightened by the news. She retreated, guided by the familiar all the way. As she reached the sand, clutching her soaked dress, he sank away below the foam.
The Union lay only a few ship’s lengths from where the queen and her followers stood. Between beach and carrack were dolphins, both courts and regiment, packed tight. Through the driving torrents, the queen recognised the commanding figure of Io Pasharatid – and he had recognised her.
He stood tall and sinister on the streaming deck, swart-bearded, canvas jacket open to the rain, cap pitched over his eyes. He looked at her and then he acted.
In his fist was a spear. Climbing onto the rail of the ship, clutching the shrouds with one hand, he leaned forward and stabbed down repeatedly into the water. With every stab, crimson spurted up the blade of the weapon. The waters became lashed with foam. Pasharatid stabbed again and again.
To superstitious mariners, the dolphin is a sacred creature. Ally of the spirits of the deep, it can do no wrong in sailors’ eyes. Harm it and one places one’s own life in jeopardy.
Pasharatid was surrounded by furious mariners. The spear was wrestled from his hand and thrown away. The watchers ashore saw him borne fighting to the deck until his soldiers rushed in and pulled him free. The scrimmage continued for a while. The queen’s familiars had successfully barred the way to Gravabagalinien.
The rainstorm was at its height. The waves rose higher, crashing up the beach with splendid fury. The queen screamed her victory, looking in her dishevelment much like her dead mother, the wild Shannana, until TolramKetinet dragged her back, in fear that she would hurl herself into the water again.
Lightning flashed in the storm’s belly and then struck with following thunder. Cloud shifted like blown sheet, outlining the Good Hope suddenly in silver water. It stood off a third of a mile or less from its companion ship, as its crew fought to keep it offshore.
A line of dolphins streamed from the bay and could be seen heading beyond the Good Hope as if summoned by something there.
The sea convulsed. It boiled about the Lorajan vessel. Men ashore swore afterwards that the water boiled. The convulsion grew, with glimpses of things churning. Then a mass rose from the water, shook waves from its head, rose, still rose, till it towered above the masts of the Good Hope. It had eyes. It had a great lantern jaw and whiskers that writhed like eels. More of it came out of the sea in thick scaled coils, thicker than a man’s torso. The storm was its element.
And there were more coils. A second monster appeared, this one in a rage, to judge by the darting movements of its head. Like a gigantic snake, it rose, then struck at the waves, diving, to leave sections of its roped body still agleam in the viscous air.
Its head emerged again, setting the Good Hope rocking. The two creatures joined forces. Careless in their obscene sport, they writhed through the water. One lashing tail smashed against the side of the caravel, breaking planking and treenails.
Then both beasts were gone. The waters lay flattened where they had been. They had obeyed the summons of the dolphins and now were making back towards the depths of the ocean. Although their appearances before the eyes of men were rare, the great creatures still formed part of the cycle of living beings which had adapted to the Great Year of