Part Two
That night saw James huddled on the deck of the Annola-Lee alone; his only company became the deep rolling of the tidal surf--one of two of Caer Ailinne's moons was completely full and the other partially, so the tide waters were particularly harsh. He had barely gulped down his dinner of flatfish stew when the squall hit.
Without warning, a storm with winds that rivaled those that heralded the coming of monsoon season slammed the atoll, and as thunderheads blacker than night shrouded the bay in darkness, sweeping torrents of thick rain pelted the Annola-Lee.
Attempting to stand as he gathered the last bit of stew, James tumbled as gigantic swells lifted the aft. Suddenly the wave disappeared when called back into the sea, and the stern slammed down hard. As the deck dropped away from his feet, James pitched forward, and his head spun when he hit the pine boards.
Seawater gushed over to the starboard side, washing away the scarlet stains on the deck from Jim's bloodied nose and lip; the salt stung unmercifully and the tepid water blasted him sideways.
This was not something he had planned on, he growled to himself, and hastily he scrambled to go below. The once picturesque atoll now looked like something out of a nightmare, and the waters he and Serina had gloried in were trying to kill him. Gritting his teeth, James reached for the rigging when the stern lifted once more; bracing himself he prayed to what ever god would have mercy...he remembered God, but beyond that, there was nothing....
The ocean James had fancied he was a part of now firmly reminded him that he was not--he would never belong here...not truly...oh, how he pleaded for the anchor to hold!
"Oh God! My God no!!" he trembled as the deck surged up to meet him. Black specs danced in his vision as he hit, his hands burning from the ropes. Nausea swept over him as fiercely as if it were a wave as well, and he lifted himself from the wet dock as the contents of his stomach betrayed him. His vision was still blackened, and he coughed as he heaved. God, his head hurt, and he thought perhaps a rib or two was broken. Sputtering in misery, he held on as the ocean pounded again--the sharp twang of rope snapping caused him to struggle to his feet just in time to see the boom swinging to meet him.
With unyielding force, the base of the main sail swung in a wide arch--it was the last thing James saw before he was flung out into the sea. He was allowed a few desperate sputtering breaths before a wall of water converged on his exhausted body; he faintly knew he was to die, and consciousness left him as he was rolled under.
In years to come, he would look back on the storm as if it were an answer to his prayers; for now, though, all that followed were nightmares...
It had been five years since James had come to live on the RCSV Delphi; the class five "Royal Cetacean Science Vessel" was without doubt the strangest place James had ever called "home". Although he had been in exile on Caer Ailinne, James always found it more peaceful than the deep space vessel; visits there always brought him back to the atoll where his memories finally began to surface at the very moment of his near-death.
When he was plunged into the unforgiving waters of the bay, and his body tossed about like a rag doll, his consciousness had left him. Blackness darker than any night met him; he struggled to awake, but it was like screaming in a nightmare. Blinding blue flashes ripped and crackled through James' vision at last, and a slurred voice mumbled in his head.
"Hey Jim, you see that?" Came a largely familiar voice--though with a grumble, James realized he couldn't see... "Hey...Jim, you see that?" the voice echoed painfully as bright flashes suddenly erupted.
"....Jim...?" slowly the flashes formed shapes; groggily he blinked as he realized he was restrained in some manner. Sitting up straight with a start, he realized the restraints consisted of a cross-belt that held him firmly to a plush bucket seat. His vision snapped into place, as crisp and as vivid as he could ever ask for.
Before him stood a half-moon shaped console, with brilliantly lit panels set amongst the silvery metal. Glancing up past the buttons and digital displays he didn't understand, James marveled at a panoramic view of open space. To his left lay a field of wispy blue and red clouds--pockets of elemental gases that hinted at planetary formation.
With a dropped jaw, James took in the horizon with eagerness...until it occurred to him that an orange holographic heads-up-display system bordered the window with numbers and tracking symbols. His hands were closed over the grip of a flight stick. With a frown, he turned to the sound of the voice that called his name.
"...Jim...you see that?"
James squinted at a flat twelve by fourteen inch LCD screen to his right, and the visage of a brown and cream prick-eared rabbit about his own age met him.
"...Jim? There's something on the radar..." the rabbit spoke; worry flooding his voice as he prompted James to take a look at his own radar screen. Without hesitation or confusion, James glanced to the smaller back-lit radar screen, noting two blips to his left and right--his wingman, he knew...a "p"...starting with a "p"...and "there?" No..."Hare..."
The 3rd blip of immediate concern lay to the squad's two o'clock. The com-screen alternated to show the anticipated face of a stern collie.
"Cole?" James uttered softly, and the collie cocked a floppy ear at him, followed by a cocked eyebrow.
"Sergeant...looks like another fighter jet...you should hail them...hail them...hail them..." James let go of the stick to press his hands to his head as Cole O'Donnell's words rung like a discordant bell.
"Cold as the Northern winds
In December mornings,
Cold is the cry that rings
From this far distant shore.
Winter has come too late,
Too close beside me.
How can I chase away
All these fears deep inside?"
The roar of the surf, which now seemed so familiar, sounded as if it were miles away. His head rang, and when he tried to move, James couldn't feel his body--just that dull, aching ring.
The shrill calls of the gulls above the shore cut through the ringing, and slowly the pounding of the waves on the beach came closer. His vision focused as well, and with a tired blink, James found himself draped over a barnacle-encrusted rock, face down. Staring for a moment at the barnacles as they hid in their shells, he started when a cool rush of salt water announced the coming of the morning tide.
Suddenly James was very aware of his body, and he moved to sit up. This, he found, was a mistake. He felt as if he had been broken into a thousand pieces, and the fire that ran down his spine nearly proved that theory. Flopping back down, James got another mouthful of sea brine, which he spat out with a grimace.
Slower, this time, he sat up, watching the tiny barnacles reach out frantically into the cool water with their graceful fans in attempt to catch particles of food.
It wasn't until he began to shiver that he looked up to find the dolphin staring at him from a few feet away. Apparently, she had been there for a while.
"...Serina...?" He whispered uncertainly--the last thing he recalled was being swept out to sea. He looked up for a moment to find the Annola-Lee still anchored--though how soundly, he could not say. The dolphin followed his gaze, then turned back to watch him with her infinite eyes, coming closer. Suddenly, the recollection of the events in what had seemed like a dream, hit him with some force, and he shook his head tenderly.
He sat perched atop one of the highest rocks in what was a collection of granite boulders near shore. The lower parts of the chain were already well underneath water; the inlet he was in was fairly calm. The water was pristine and soothing on his weary muscles, and the salt water went to work healing the various cuts and bruises over his body.
"I'll wait the signs to come,
I'll find a way.
I will wait the time to come,
I'll find a way home."
In a silvery plume, Serina exhaled, and the sound brought James' attention back to her once more. Reaching his hand out to touch Serina's cool skin, James frowned at the memories that had surfaced. He watched her carefully as he tilted her chin up to meet his gaze, and she inched as close to the sharp rocks as she dared.
"It was you..." he breathed, "...It was you who saved me last night," he concluded, though the dolphin did not reply. Her expression was as placid as her name, and with a deep breath, James recalled Dusk's words from what seemed like an eternity ago. 'Of course I can speak, young one...though the translator is for your benefit...I can see your memories...'
Trembling, James watched Serina carefully for any sign that she might understand him.
"I spoke...with the Matriarch," he spoke in a halting manner, unsure of how crazy speaking to dolphins made him. "...And she...she said that she could give me back my memories if I only left without you --" he paused as she gave muttered clicks, sharp and staccato, upon hearing this--or more appropriately, he realized, she understood the thoughts and feelings behind the words. "...If you could..." he paused again, unsure of how to ask her to do anything, or even if she could help if he did ask. "Can you do what she claimed she could do? Give me back my memories, I mean?"
He suddenly felt extremely foolish, as if he were speaking to the wind. After she had remained silent for quite some time, James glanced up to the sky, his gaze following the lazy flight of a narrow-winged sea bird on the hunt for its breakfast. As his attention wandered, he sighed.
He wasn't sure when Serina began to utter a low, nearly inaudible ticking sound. What he was sure of was that the uninterrupted hum was louder now, and it sounded strangely like the hunting song she would sing to coax the flat-fish from their hiding place on the sandy seabed. The pulse crackled as she accented certain notes, and the hum became almost deafening.
It was a slow, rolling pulsation, in time with the shift of the tidal waves and the morning breeze which lapped at his body. Time seemed of no importance as the scent of the ocean became heavier. It no longer only smelled of salt, but now of kelp and flotsam. The long tendrils of kelp swayed with the rushing tidal flow, driven by the wind and the moons which hung in the sky amongst the stars.
The light of the morning sun filtered down through the bands of clouds moving over the atoll; the seabird from earlier found his catch. Everything was in motion, and everything was teaming with life.
Just as James' senses became more acute, his bruised body relaxed muscle by muscle, and his breath slowed along with his heartbeat. James was not aware of the physical changes half so much as the mental ones. He lived only for this moment could not recall a more magnificent sunrise in his life...
His life...he could not recall his life...his breath slowed...and the sun fell warm upon his face...
"My light shall be the moon
And my path the ocean.
My guide, the Morning Star
As I sail home to you."
Illustrations: (Cut and paste into your browser)
Serina: http:s92873267.onlinehome.us/starfox/fanart/fara/serinatriqueta2.jpg
Annola Lee: http:s92873267.onlinehome.us/starfox/fanart/fara/annolalee.jpg
The Island: http:s92873267.onlinehome.us/starfox/fanart/fara/islandblurburn.jpg
References
"A Pirate Looks At Fifty" – © Jimmy Buffet
"Remember Me" – © Tim McGraw
"Exile" – © Enya
"No One Like You"- © Sara Brightman
"Honor Him"- © Hans Zimmerman
"Only If..." – © Enya
