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The sparkling studded tentacle swept across the deck, disturbing the peace of the gloaming. Ordinarily, it would have been able to grab one of the plentiful small forms usually found on such platforms. It knew gelfling were aboard. They were the land-dwelling forebears of an ancient foe its kind sometimes fell prey to while still small. Shouts reverberated in the air, footfalls thudded across timbers. Food was there, clearly, yet… something was wrong. Where was it exactly?
In the charm and tapestry strewn cabin of the seafaring Sifa family’s vessel a sunfire-red-haired mother clutched her equally Rose Sun blessed daughter. On a table against the wall a rock carved with the three moons, remnant of an ancient temple palace handed down generations from mother to daughter, rested on a small pillow. A small dish held sand from one of the sacred sites, smoldering charcoal, and a mixture of vision inducing herbs and fire coral dust. Languid ropes of scented smoke laced the air and opened the senses. Neither mother nor child were anxious, there were no whimpers despite the heaviness of the air and tension emanating from the deck.
There was no need. They’d been given warning. The crystalline octopid currently assailing the crew above deck was a gift, after all. Soon, there would be steaks and tentacle bits, and the hide could be stripped and treated for boots and belts, crystal outgrowths processed into gems and charms for sale, and ink. Of course, they’d have to earn those boons. Thra was generous, but still required they make effort.
The childling looked into the wisping flags of smoke and reached a tiny hand out at what she saw in them. Her piercing blue eyes dimly glowed with the blue-green vliya her parents were beginning to associate with the odd events, even for a Farseer, that tended to unfold around her. “Up. Need up.”
“Up? You are up.”
“Up!” She pointed up. “Up there. I need up there.” The child proceeded to wriggle and squirm, attempting to worm her way out of her mother’s grip with enough force she began to worry about damage to her daughter’s wingbuds. “Now. Must go there!”
Sidima didn’t want to go out, didn’t want to risk her precious baby girl being snatched by the octopid... whether or not it was a gift of food. If her eyes weren’t already glowing and getting brighter… “Merfid! Stop. You’ll hurt yourself. I’ll take you up but you have to stay with me.
“Up.” Merfid settled down and leaned placidly against her mother’s chest again. “Important.”
Sidima flicked her ears and sighed. “You’re already talking like the Maudra I’m know you’ll be one day.”
“Maudra.” Merfid tasted the word and wrinkled her nose. “Bitter. Heavy.”
She nodded at her daughter’s statement as she went to the door. “It is. Many hard decisions, but you’ll make them well. It runs in your blood from the old places. We have a duty we’re waiting for.”
“Boring.” Her new favorite word. It didn’t sound like flying or swimming, things she wanted to do but in one case wasn’t allowed so far out and in the other not physically possible yet. “Up. Hurry, Mama. Almost time.”
She made her way through the hall, up the steps from the living quarters, and then out the door. The charm and talisman festooned crew, her current husband among, them busily avoided the reach of the hungry octopid. This one was a red so deep it was nearly black, obviously very close to the infuriated state her vision had said it would be near the time their foe would die. She just hadn’t seen how.
Merfid pointed at the creature. “It will come up. Need eye and mouth.” She pointed to the other side of the ship. “Grabby thingy coming. Cut. Mouth and eye both be big.”
“Sidima, Merfid!” Her husband signed sternly from his current spot on a spar above a sweeping tentacle that was still occupied with trying to find where all the morsels were hidden. “Go back in. Not safe!” His dark eyes snapped, rarely firm or forbidding. His Drenchen ancestry showed in the darkness of his dreadlocks, breadth of his nose, gashes of gills pressed tight shut, and the green though somewhat chafed hue of his skin.
Sidma shook her head, then spread regal moth-like blue, green and silver moon-marked wings to flit over to him. Her hands were full of childling, who was busily watching what she knew would be at least two timelines, thus silencing her hands from signing in return. She held Merfid tighter and leaned to his ear, relaying to him what little Merfid had had the language to share.
Wide partly webbed hands flashed instructions to his crew. Males rose higher in rigging, some grasping ropes to swing. Females changed their positions in the air. Every one of them had their blades drawn. They knew the hunt was about to get more interesting.
As predicted, the creature rose. It locked a baleful eye on Merfid, who cheekily waved at it. “Thank you.”
The Bosun coughed, yet again caught off guard by the strange progeny of the Lost Hiding In View. The octopid would have squinted if it could. It focused on the strangely calm tiny thing. Prey, in its experience, was never so calm. Yet, the eyes that looked back not only glowed with something that prickled the back of its brain… but the spawn seemed impossibly old for such a tiny frame. Something about its lack of fear prodded just right.
He would teach it fear. Now all the morsels could be seen; they must have been mocking him. He struck, intending to lash and grapple both the young female and its mother. Eyes widened and mouth gaped, preparing to receive them.
Fire bit tentacles deep. Harpoons and swords struck for eyes and mouth if they weren’t already occupied.
Merfid watched, whispered ancient words no one had taught her, honoring the passing. The glow left her eyes.
---
In the charm and tapestry strewn cabin of the seafaring Sifa family’s vessel a sunfire-red-haired mother clutched her equally Rose Sun blessed daughter. On a table against the wall a rock carved with the three moons, remnant of an ancient temple palace handed down generations from mother to daughter, rested on a small pillow. A small dish held sand from one of the sacred sites, smoldering charcoal, and a mixture of vision inducing herbs and fire coral dust. Languid ropes of scented smoke laced the air and opened the senses. Neither mother nor child were anxious, there were no whimpers despite the heaviness of the air and tension emanating from the deck.
There was no need. They’d been given warning. The crystalline octopid currently assailing the crew above deck was a gift, after all. Soon, there would be steaks and tentacle bits, and the hide could be stripped and treated for boots and belts, crystal outgrowths processed into gems and charms for sale, and ink. Of course, they’d have to earn those boons. Thra was generous, but still required they make effort.
The childling looked into the wisping flags of smoke and reached a tiny hand out at what she saw in them. Her piercing blue eyes dimly glowed with the blue-green vliya her parents were beginning to associate with the odd events, even for a Farseer, that tended to unfold around her. “Up. Need up.”
“Up? You are up.”
“Up!” She pointed up. “Up there. I need up there.” The child proceeded to wriggle and squirm, attempting to worm her way out of her mother’s grip with enough force she began to worry about damage to her daughter’s wingbuds. “Now. Must go there!”
Sidima didn’t want to go out, didn’t want to risk her precious baby girl being snatched by the octopid... whether or not it was a gift of food. If her eyes weren’t already glowing and getting brighter… “Merfid! Stop. You’ll hurt yourself. I’ll take you up but you have to stay with me.
“Up.” Merfid settled down and leaned placidly against her mother’s chest again. “Important.”
Sidima flicked her ears and sighed. “You’re already talking like the Maudra I’m know you’ll be one day.”
“Maudra.” Merfid tasted the word and wrinkled her nose. “Bitter. Heavy.”
She nodded at her daughter’s statement as she went to the door. “It is. Many hard decisions, but you’ll make them well. It runs in your blood from the old places. We have a duty we’re waiting for.”
“Boring.” Her new favorite word. It didn’t sound like flying or swimming, things she wanted to do but in one case wasn’t allowed so far out and in the other not physically possible yet. “Up. Hurry, Mama. Almost time.”
She made her way through the hall, up the steps from the living quarters, and then out the door. The charm and talisman festooned crew, her current husband among, them busily avoided the reach of the hungry octopid. This one was a red so deep it was nearly black, obviously very close to the infuriated state her vision had said it would be near the time their foe would die. She just hadn’t seen how.
Merfid pointed at the creature. “It will come up. Need eye and mouth.” She pointed to the other side of the ship. “Grabby thingy coming. Cut. Mouth and eye both be big.”
“Sidima, Merfid!” Her husband signed sternly from his current spot on a spar above a sweeping tentacle that was still occupied with trying to find where all the morsels were hidden. “Go back in. Not safe!” His dark eyes snapped, rarely firm or forbidding. His Drenchen ancestry showed in the darkness of his dreadlocks, breadth of his nose, gashes of gills pressed tight shut, and the green though somewhat chafed hue of his skin.
Sidma shook her head, then spread regal moth-like blue, green and silver moon-marked wings to flit over to him. Her hands were full of childling, who was busily watching what she knew would be at least two timelines, thus silencing her hands from signing in return. She held Merfid tighter and leaned to his ear, relaying to him what little Merfid had had the language to share.
Wide partly webbed hands flashed instructions to his crew. Males rose higher in rigging, some grasping ropes to swing. Females changed their positions in the air. Every one of them had their blades drawn. They knew the hunt was about to get more interesting.
As predicted, the creature rose. It locked a baleful eye on Merfid, who cheekily waved at it. “Thank you.”
The Bosun coughed, yet again caught off guard by the strange progeny of the Lost Hiding In View. The octopid would have squinted if it could. It focused on the strangely calm tiny thing. Prey, in its experience, was never so calm. Yet, the eyes that looked back not only glowed with something that prickled the back of its brain… but the spawn seemed impossibly old for such a tiny frame. Something about its lack of fear prodded just right.
He would teach it fear. Now all the morsels could be seen; they must have been mocking him. He struck, intending to lash and grapple both the young female and its mother. Eyes widened and mouth gaped, preparing to receive them.
Fire bit tentacles deep. Harpoons and swords struck for eyes and mouth if they weren’t already occupied.
Merfid watched, whispered ancient words no one had taught her, honoring the passing. The glow left her eyes.
---
This a fanfiction flash fiction set within the Dark Crystal. It takes place during the late Age of Division with the Age of Resistance fated to begin a seeming handful of trine later. Merfid is a very young child in this one, learning to speak, perhaps about 2ish. She is not the young woman of the dawning of the Age of Resistance.
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