In the Between Time Page 3

  But what could he tell his parents? Should he tell them about Daria? Not having ever been really religious, would they believe him? Or would they think he’d decided he didn’t want to ‘grow up’ just yet and had been reading too many etchings, therefore trying to get out of his apprenticeship by claiming the prophecy was coming true? He’d heard stories from his father about a childhood rako of his who’d done just that. He’d announced loudly and at great length that he’d had a visit from the daris and was therefore going off to join the imohood in spite of the fact that you can’t ‘join’ imohood, you have to be born an imo.

  Less than two months later his parents had discovered him living with a group of dudu-slurping swimaways who were all trying to escape their apprenticeships for one reason or another. It had ended badly for that merlan, who’d tried to make his escape rather than returning home. In his dudu-induced haze he’d swum headfirst into a large boulder. The force of the impact unsettled it. It had rolled down the hill it was on and crushed him to death.

  That may or may not have been a true story, he thought now as he mused upon it. It sounded more like a morality tale – like many imos interpreted the etchings throughout the keraj. And it didn’t help him with his decision one iota.

  “I shall gather some food for you,” he finally said as Daria shifted in his lap. “And then I need to take you somewhere that’s very important to me.”

  “Are you taking me to Father?”

  He swallowed. “I don’t know where he is, Daria. I’m sorry.”

  Her eyes cast downward as she rose from his lap and floated slowly away. “He’s not coming, is he.”

  It wasn’t a question. And that was a good thing, because Jafo did not have the answer. “I will get you some food. There are some umba here that are edible and I think I saw a couple of ketas in nearby rocks. Do you like ketas?”

  She nodded, but her heart wasn’t in it. Jafo’s shoulders fell. What could he do? Nino had said nothing of Ajibo’s and Pana’s demise, but surely if Pana could hone in on Daria, even accounting for Ajibo’s condition it shouldn’t have taken them six hours to get from where he’d left them to the pintu.

  “Wait here where you are safe. I will return quickly.”

  “Okay.”

  Jafo spared one more glance, his heart bleeding for the little merling. She was different. She hadn’t even been birthed down here if he followed the letter of the old ways. She’d been raised by a man who may or may not even have been her biological father, and another man who was now dead. He wondered whether her meran mother was still alive and then wondered in the same thought where the mer was who’d birthed a child with legs like Nino’s. Jafo wished he had proof that such a thing had occurred. It would sure help him figure out what he should do.

  He swam quickly to the entrance and looked down the stone steps, then scanned the waters with his eyes and ears. The only currents seemed to be from small things like fish and ketas and of course the ocean itself. He ramped his hearing up and wished he’d practiced that more as a merlee. But things were what they were and thus far in life he’d avoided anything worse than a hungry balat trying to nip his finger off.

  Well, until the recent raksi encounter, of course.

  He shivered at the memory, swam to the left toward a large rock forest with some boulders reaching halfway to the surface – now closer, he reminded himself –and began the search for ketas. He dug beneath the rocks, fingers moving quickly to keep their pincers from snapping them off or slicing through his webbing. He knew he’d seen a couple of them, both an odd shade of blue mixed with black, scuttling around down here upon returning from his discovery that the waters were receding.

  As he darted in amongst the boulders and rocks searching for anything to feed a hungry merling, he wondered what the name of all the daris on a stick he was doing. Though it niggled in the back of his brain that he already knew the answer to that and indeed had already made his decision with his actions toward Jama, he refused to allow that thought to solidify. He was just a merlan. To make decisions like this about the rest of his life now?

  He stopped short, and it wasn’t just because he’d nearly rammed headfirst into an anemone-covered rock that was half the size of the largest boulder in the rock forest.

  Choosing now to become an imo…to become Daria’s Protector…was no different than having chosen six months earlier to become apprentice to a scribe. He had, on his nineteenth celebration of birthing, chosen what to spend the next one hundred and eighty years doing.

  Oh, my…

  So what would he rather do? Sit quietly with Wujio and learn all the meanings of all the etchings and drawings and learn how to accurately record mer history as it happened? Or…and he looked up at the tall side wall of the pintu as he thought it…spend one hundred and eighty years protecting the mer who’d been born to fulfill an ancient prophecy? Her existence had already begun ushering in a new age for mers…and merans alike, though he’d never seen one of those himself. Did he want to be flitting about from place to place only reporting on it and recording it paintstakingly into stone?

  Or did he want to be front and center for whatever was about to happen, ensuring that it happened precisely as the daris wished?

  Getting a little full of yourself thinking you can ensure anything.

  Annoying inner voice.

  And yet the answer was as clear as the outer sphere of Daria’s tidakam: he didn’t want to be sitting around for the beginning of end and the end of beginning, relying on others to see it through. He wanted to be right in the thick of it making it all happen.

  “Protector!”

  The screeching scream had come from Daria, and it’d been her voice rather than the typical mer mental transmissions. Heart pounding through his chest, Jafo raced back to the front entrance of the pintu. There, kneeling on the floor in front of Daria in the direct center of the floor, was—

  “By the hairs of the daris…”

  The image of an ima…a meran ima…knelt before Daria. And Jafo knew it was an image because she was transparent. He’d heard of these…read of them, actually, in the scribes’ reproductions of the etchings from the kerajo’s great palace. The daris had supposedly been able to project themselves elsewhere but it hadn’t happened in modern memory. What seized Jafo’s attention beyond the bipedal ima, though, was the non-transparent little child standing next to her. Hair of fire. Pale of skin. He looked just like Daria except for one very major thing.

  He had legs.

  * * *

  The tunnel had been long, with many branches to left and right. It wasn’t straight either, curving so many times there was no way Sirena could recall which way led out versus to a dead end. It was as dark as a starless night in the tunnel, but a torch that Yanko had been handed on his way in lit the path. Shadows danced around them and Sirena wondered multiple times throughout the journey first how it was the men were making the trip since there was no way their height fit – she hadn’t had the nerve to look behind her to answer that question for herself – and second, if some sort of bahans were dancing in those shadows waiting for new additions to their wicked realm.

  Fear of bahans, mythical though they may be, and of death in general, prompted her to speak. “Are you truly prepared to take the life of an ima?” she asked, her voice echoing back at her from her position at the front of the line. “Do you know what the daris will do to you for such a transgression?”

  “Silence, barua,” the one carrying Mateo growled.

  “Now, now, there’s no need to be uncivilized, Qitaro. We have here what may be the very first ima in all recorded history.”

  Qitaro snorted. Evidently he was not impressed. Sirena hadn’t expected him to be; after all, even the imos didn’t want her, never mind a band of mask-wearing ruffians.

  “I think we have a little time,” Yanko said, stopping and forcing Sirena to halt as well with his big, meaty hand on her shoulder. She shivered. He leaned forward, rank breath curling around her e
ar to her nose. She wrinkled it in response but kept her eyes forward. “If you’re cold, I can warm you up, Ima.”

  “I am fine,” she lied, knowing full well what his version of warming her up entailed.

  “Hmm, I don’t know,” he slurred, probably drunk on his own power in this situation. How unfair that she was such a waif. Compared to other women she was slightly built. Plus the fact that she’d never had to toil for any reason led to her not being nearly as fit as most mers were as a result of general living. Had she more height or girth, she may have at least been able to kick Yanko in the zakalas and make a break for it.

  But to where? Not only was Qitaro surely not going to let her get away even if Yanko was writhing on the floor in pain, but there was Mateo to consider. Though Sirena had no way of knowing how much time had passed since they’d entered the massive cave system, she hadn’t heard a peep from the child since he’d fallen asleep – or passed out – on Gacia’s back. Either he was really, really tired, or something was wrong. She couldn’t just leave him there to try to spare herself the indignity and pain of rape. She had to endure whatever came, if for no other reason than to keep Mateo in her sights.

  Yanko’s hand roamed down to her zuki, grasping first one cheek and squeezing so hard it made her eyes tear, and then grasping and squeezing the other. “Such a firm zuki,” he breathed into her ear. She swallowed the urge to gag.

  “Come on, Yanko, we gotta get these two to the end. Vago doesn’t take kindly to deviations from his plans.”

  Yanko’s hand slithered around to grab her right breast. She held still. No need to get herself hurt or worse by resisting in an impossible situation. He squeezed and squeezed and then tweaked her teat which made her wince but then he sighed and his hand moved back to her shoulder.

  “Damn, I could use a good nerak right now.”

  “Couldn’t we all.”

  Yanko pushed her forward and they resumed their trek. Then…a scraping sound. It had come from the tunnel to her right just now as they’d passed it. Had she been the only one who’d heard it? The others hadn’t seemed to, for they kept the same pace without any conversation. Were there cave-dwellers in here? Flying kelats or perhaps a wayward rusli? Neither would pose the merans any danger, but she wondered if it might make for a good distraction.

  Still, she wouldn’t be able to carry Mateo on her own and try to find a way out of there, even if she managed to abscond with Yanko’s torch in the process. No matter what her mind tried to envision, and no matter how many times she called out for Aea, there was no answer to their predicament forthcoming.

  The scrape came again, now from behind them, and before Sirena could even start to wonder what it was there was a yell and then a yelp and then a thud and a lot of scuffling. Yanko whirled around, releasing Sirena, and she in turn spun to see what was going on.

  “That son-of-a-barua!” Yanko bellowed.

  Sirena gaped. Rolling around on the floor of the cave where Qitaro and… “Omaro?”

  For surely it was he! Omaro held a large, jagged piece of rock in his hand and was fighting to get it as close to Qitaro’s jugular as he could. Yanko surged forward to help, first trying to use the torch to burn Omaro. He burned the back of Qitaro’s right arm instead. Qitaro yowled in pain, and that distracted him long enough that Omaro’s makeshift pisa slid home.

  Blood spurted from the side of Qitaro’s neck. Yanko dropped the torch directly onto Mateo’s unmoving body and Sirena screamed his name, darting forward into a tucked roll to use her body as a shield. She felt the bottom end of the torch glance off her shoulder and then smelled burning hair. Qitaro was cursing more words than Sirena had ever heard in her life as he struggled to his feet, hair smoking from the torch, but Sirena’s entire focus was on getting Mateo away from the scuffle.

  With her hands still bound behind her back it wasn’t an easy task.

  Someone’s foot glanced off her spine just beneath her fingers and she cried out, but dragged herself to her knees and bent forward, using her head to shove Mateo along the tunnel.

  Omaro yelled, “Get down!” and Sirena obeyed, pitching forward to cover Mateo with her torso. The torch flew over her head and she smelled more freshly singed hair in the aftermath. Praying her hair wasn’t actually on fire, she flexed her stomach muscles, pulled herself back to her knees and then started using her head to shove Mateo forward again.

  She had no idea what was going on behind her but she couldn’t spare so much as a second to glance back. Yanko was cursing. Omaro was shouting. She didn’t hear Qitaro’s voice and wondered if he’d bled out.

  Sirena kept going.

  There was a large curve to the right up ahead and just beyond the curve she saw another tunnel that branched off to the left. But the thrown torch had landed in the middle of the narrow passage, completely blocking the way. She’d have to move it to keep Mateo from being burned. In her fear and determination, she no longer listened to the sounds of the fighting behind her. At least she knew now who the Lunan’s captive had been. Of course, that didn’t help them either, for when Yanko and Qitaro failed to return, she was certain Vago would come looking for them since he’d been anxious to go deal with their transaction. And cursed bahans, she didn’t want to know what such a thing entailed.

  Sirena rose back to her knees and judged the distance between Mateo’s head and the business end of the torch. She just needed to step over Mateo and kick the torch off to the side, and then try to scoot Mateo’s limp form past it against the other wall. Plan firmly in place, she lifted her foot to cross Mateo when all at once, every sound ceased. Sirena froze. The fight must be over. But who had won? She nearly toppled, unable to keep her balance on one leg without the use of her arms to offset. Her shoulder banged into the tunnel wall and she went down to her knees, narrowly missing Mateo’s head in the process.

  If Yanko was the victor, then Sirena figured he’d probably just kill her and Mateo now in revenge for Omaro having slain Qitaro. She decided she’d rather keep her back to them so she wouldn’t know when the pisa blow would be struck.

  Sirena bowed over the child, calling out to Aea with every fiber of her being to help her save the prophesied one. I will sacrifice myself if it will keep him alive.

  A hand gripped her right shoulder and she screamed.

  Chapter Four

  Daria stared wide-eyed at what was essentially her mirror image. The little meran stared right back at her. The ima didn’t seem to be aware of her surroundings. In fact, she’d not moved so much as a finger since Jafo had entered. Only as he rounded the side of her did the boy’s eyes shift to him. This time it was his eyes that widened as he took in Jafo from head-to-tail fins. The child looked solid, but…was he? If so, how could he be breathing here beneath the surface? His hair wasn’t floating in the water, either.

  As Daria grabbed hold of his arm, Jafo swiped a hand out and forward. As he’d suspected, it sailed clean through the image of the ima. He then moved his hand toward the child, hesitated, then swiped it at his head with the same result. So this was a projection. But only the daris could do such a thing!

  Realization hit Jafo with the force of a hungry nagala. His eyes darted down to Daria, whose head was against his bicep as her small hands grasped his left hand. Her eyes had not yet left the child. Before Jafo could form any thoughts around his epiphany the tidakam, which remained upon the floor just behind them, glowed brighter. Jafo turned to look at it and was astonished to find it floating upward. A familiar tingle greeted his limbs. Nino was about to materialize.

  “He is talking to me,” Daria stated, righting herself and letting go of Jafo’s hand.

  “Who is he?”

  Daria cocked her head as though asking the child, but Jafo couldn’t hear her thoughts as he might normally be able to.

  “He is my brother.”

  “Your…what?”

  Daria grinned. “My twin brother.”

  Twin? Only the daris were capable of being twi— Bloody baha!
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  Jafo felt like he was losing his balance, like the entire ocean had tilted and was going to dump him over some unfathomable edge. He jerked backward from the projections and Daria, only to bump into something…or rather, someone…very solid indeed. He whipped around and came nose to nose with “Nino!” Scrambling backward with arms, fins and tail flailing, Jafo sailed through the image of the ima. Taking a couple of gulps of water he felt his face heat with embarrassment and bowed low. He was trembling from fingertips to tail fin. Trying to stop it only made him shake harder. “Venerable dari,” he said, praying he hadn’t just upset someone who could, theoretically, wink him out of existence with a snap of his fingers.

  Cursed fish bones, his voice was shaking, too.

  “Jafo, there is no need to genuflect before me. Those days are long past.”

  He snapped to, spine ramrod straight, thoughts jumbling together because…projections and prophesied children and genetic manipulations and…holiest of daris…these children were daris!

  “That they are. At least, partially,” Nino confirmed as Daria turned and launched into his arms. He smiled at her and nodded toward the bipedal child. “I see you have met Mateo.”

  “Mateo,” Jafo whispered in his mind. “That is…Daria says this is her twin brother.”

  “And she is right, of course.”

  The tidakam had risen to the same height as before over the center of the four chairs of the daris and was glowing brighter than ever, forcing Jafo to close his inner eyelids in an effort to shield his far too sensitive mer eyes.

  “That is how the meran child projects,” Jafo stated, venturing a bit closer to where Mateo stood. “But what of her?” he asked, gesturing to the ima.