The Deep Gods (3 page)

Here, black rocks rose out of the water; beyond, the cliffs came steeply into the bay. Daniel could see only deepening grey mist beyond, and glassy black water. He squatted down and put a hand into the sea. Cold, he thought, but bearable.

Holding his hand there, he felt a sudden strange sensation-—a tingling, like a faint electrical shock. It came in pulses, rising and falling; puzzled, Daniel kept his hand in the water and stared downward, trying to see what was causing it. The pulse came again, more strongly; he pulled his hand out, remembering that there were jellyfish that could sting. But he could see nothing in the water, nothing at all.

Then a huge shape appeared, sliding closer, like a great black torpedo, swiftly, yet without even a ripple, until its head came up, only a few yards away. It floated there, head up, the shining dark eyes fixed on Daniel’s; a broad head and a wide mouth that seemed to grin with amusement.

“A dolphin,” Daniel said aloud, and grinned back at it. He chuckled to himself, at his own flash of panic. “Hello, there,” he said.

“Hello, man,” the creature said.

Its voice was a strange, piping sound, unearthly but clear. Daniel sat, staring at it, wondering if he had really heard the words. It may be something like a parrot, he thought, studying the broad head and the bright eyes; it repeated the words, of course.

“I am sent,” the creature said.
“You.
Come. Near.”

Daniel, listening incredulously, noticed that the words seemed to come with effort, as though the creature found it hard to speak. But speaking was what it was doing, beyond a doubt. With an effort, Daniel stood up; he stepped into the cold water, and waded toward the dolphin.

As he did so, be felt the vibration again, now in his legs and lower body; he stopped. The dolphin’s head lowered till it lay half under the water, only the eyes visible.

Then, amazingly, Daniel felt the sound, as though he could hear with his skin rather than his ears. The words came clearly now.

“I was sent to find you, man,” the dolphin said. “Are you he who was reborn?”

“Yes,” Daniel said, standing tensely, watching the creature.

“I can hear you now,” it said. “I am called…” It uttered a whistling sound that sounded to Daniel something like “Pwee-yiss.” “I am to tell you of the Morra-ayar,” the dolphin went on. “They say that if you wish to learn what has happened to you, they will tell you. But you must come where they are.”

“The what?”
Daniel asked sharply. He stared, almost forgetting that the creature was not human. “What
are
the Morra-ayar? Where are they?”

The dolphin uttered a strange sound; suddenly, with a sense of shock, Daniel realized that it was laughter. It was the only thing needed to convince him that this was real; the creature was able to laugh.

“I had forgotten, you are not like the others,” the dolphin said. It chuckled again. “I was told you came from another world, man, where there are no sea people.”

Where we make your people into dog food, Daniel thought grimly. It would not be wise to tell that to the dolphin.

“The Morra-ayar
are
great ones,” the dolphin told him. “There are only a few of them, and they do not like to leave their own part of the sea. Some of us can lead you there, when you are ready.”

The dolphin moved, sliding smoothly backward. Daniel saw he was going, and moved forward, almost falling as his feet went deeper.

“Wait!” he called out. The creature stopped.

“Is that all?” Daniel said angrily. Another deep laugh came through the cold water.

“What else would you wish to know, man?” it asked. “If the Morra-ayar want to speak with you, is that not enough? Why, they seldom speak even with us, their own kind.”

“Are they like you?” Daniel asked.

“Bigger, bigger,” the dolphin said. “One of them is twice as large as one of the wood boxes you float in on the water. And they are very wise, so wise that they think almost all of the time, and seldom speak, unlike you shore folk.” It chuckled again. “So, if the Morra-ayar will speak at all, you are sure to learn something, man.”

And suddenly, with a splash, the dolphin spun around and shot out of sight, down into the dark water. Daniel stood, his questions unanswered, in the cold sea.

Chapter II

The house that had belonged to Egon was much like the others on the shore. It was stone, apparently very old, and with several rooms that were bare and Spartan. Hangings, made of something that looked to Daniel like wool, hung on some of the walls. Once there may have been sheep or something like them, he thought, though he had seen nothing that could bear wool in the valley. But everything made of that substance was very old. Most of the people wore rabbit skins, sewn together into a kilt and cloak affair, and rabbit skins covered the bed on which he slept, alone. There were still many rabbits—big, agile ones that raided the gardens and seemed to live well in the snows beyond the valley.

Waking, Daniel saw the unaccustomed brightening at the tiny window. Apparently the mist was clearing as the sun rose higher now.

He sat up and stretched, yawning. The girl, Ammi, was awake already; he could hear her moving about in the open court she used as a kitchen, and there was a smell of wood smoke. As always, she had slept in that small room on the other side of the court. And as always, she was silently preparing food for both of them.

Daniel knotted his kilts about himself and drew on his boots; then he walked to the doorway and stood, looking at the girl. She was kneeling, head bent, over the cooking fire, watching the small fish cook on the flat stone.

“Ammi,” he said, and she glanced at him,
then
returned to watching the fish.

“The dance, in the sea,” Daniel said. “It’s today, isn’t it?”

Ammi nodded without looking at him.

After a moment he said, “Why do you do this, Ammi?”

“What?” She glanced back, looking puzzled. With a swift movement she brought the food onto a clay dish and stood up. She came toward him, holding his share out as she ate her own with her fingers.

He took the plate and held it absently, still looking at her.

“Why?” he asked again.

“I don’t understand,” she said. She glanced at the fish. “Eat,” she told him. “We must go soon.”

“You cook for me,” he said, staring at her. “You live here with me as if you were my woman. Yet, you look at me… like that. Do you hate me, then?”

“I was Egon’s woman,” she said.

“He is dead,” Daniel told her.

“That… is true,” she said, then turned away. After a moment she said, without turning back, “No. I do not hate you. Do you want me to go to another house?”

“That young man, Banar,” Daniel said. “He has asked you to be his woman, hasn’t he?”

She swung around, her eyes glittering oddly.

“Yes,” she said. “So have others. I told them I am Egon’s.”

“You
were,”
Daniel said. He moved toward her, a step. “If I asked, would you be my woman?”

“Have you not been asking?” she said scornfully.

“No,” he said. “You know I haven’t spoken of that.”

“Did you need to?” But her voice was less edged now.

He stood still, looking at her. There was nothing he could say, he thought angrily.

“Have you forgotten your own woman, the one you called Sheila?” Ammi asked in a quiet voice.

“No,” he said.
And again, more harshly, “No.
But… she is not alive.
She… why, she’s not born yet!”

“And Egon is dead, as you say,” Ammi told him. They stood, not moving, regarding each other.

“I will not forget Egon,” she said after a moment. “Nor you your woman.
But… if you want me to be your woman, ask, in a little while.
But… not yet.
Not for a little longer.” Her eyes glittered. “If you did not wear his face… it would be easier, Daniel. I could not leave here, because of that. Do you understand? Do you?”

He nodded, not speaking.

On the beach, the sunlight was warmer than Daniel had ever known it to be; the mist was thinning on the bay. More and more of the people were coming, sitting in quiet groups clumped along the shore, silent and watchful. Daniel, looking down toward the beach, guessed that there were six or seven hundred now, most of the population of the place. Ammi was beside him.

“It will be soon,” she said in a low voice.

“I didn’t believe it,” Daniel said, looking. “Not till the dolphin spoke to me. I thought… well.” He laughed sharply.
“Then, that message.
The creature talked, damn it. It did.”

“Of course it did,” Ammi said. Then, “Message?”

“One of your sea folk,” Daniel said. “It seems his… masters, I suppose they are…
wish
to speak to me, but I’m to go to visit them. Apparently they don’t want to travel.”

The girl was staring at him with a strange look.

“What are you talking about?” she said in a tight voice.

“
Somebody,
or something called a Morra-ayar,” Daniel said. “Do you know what they may be?”

“Of course,” she said, still in the same tense voice. “Man, are you saying
they
sent for you?
The Morra-ayar?”

He looked at her, surprised.
“Of course.
Why, girl, what’s the matter? You look…”

“The Morra-ayar,” she said, stepping back; she looked at him with something close to terror. “They are… the gods.”

“Oh, come,” he said, chuckling. “The sea dweller said they were like
himself
, only larger.”

“No,” she said. “They are…” She stopped. “I cannot tell you. I know only what is said of them.” Her eyes were wide. “And that only a few men in all our history have seen them.
The mighty Narr the Builder, and the first sea-king of Thandira… but no ordinary men, ever.
Daniel…” She stared at him, “Daniel, who… what are you?”

Daniel looked at her and shook his head. “Girl, I’m no special person, as far as I know. I’d never heard of these beings, whatever they are. And I’m not sure I can find
them,
or that I’ll even try to find them.” He laughed.
“Gods?
There are no gods.”

“We call the Morra-ayar gods,” she said.

He looked at her serious expression; the girl meant it. It was the language again, he thought; just when he had been fairly sure of the meanings of words, a new meaning would turn up.
“God,” now.
He had seen images and icons, in what he had assumed were places of worship; and Ammi had used that word to describe the images. They were “gods,” she had said; old-time things which nobody knew anything about anymore.

“The Morra-ayar
are
not
our
gods,” the girl said, as if she had been reading his mind. “Those you saw… they were like us, and people prayed to them. No one prays to the Morra-ayar.”

“Are they—well, dangerous then?” Daniel asked.
“Evil?”

Ammi shook her head. “No, you do not understand. They—they are not bad, not good.” Her eyes became wider. “But if they call a man, he must go. How can you say you will not?”

“I only said that I hadn’t made up my mind, Ammi,” Daniel said. He stared toward the beach and the silent groups that waited there. “I would like to know… if
these
Morra-ayar can really tell me… why I’m here, how I got here. But that’s only curiosity, after all. If it did any good to know how it happened, I might be more anxious about it.” He chuckled. “And it’s possible
these
Morra-ayar don’t know, either, whatever they are.”

“They know everything,” Ammi said.

On the beach, people were beginning to stand up and a few had already entered the water; out in the bay, the sun struck lances of glittering light on the sudden ripples. A shining dark form leaped and splashed back, then another.

Daniel, moving toward the beach, was suddenly afraid. He did not know what he feared; it was a deep, stomach-twisting terror, reasonless and huge. He had felt that kind of fear as a child, once, in a dark pine wood, walking alone. He had been eight or nine, he remembered. And there had been no reason at all, only the green silence and the shadows. It was like that now.

But Ammi was going, with long strides, toward the beach; her face was shining with a strange, blind ecstasy as though she were drugged. Daniel, following, could not speak of his fear now, he knew.

More and more dolphins leaped in the deeper water; huge ones, Daniel saw. He could not quite remember what the average size had been, in his time, but these seemed bigger than those he had seen. He remembered that one sort had been called a killer whale, and the cold knot of fear within him tightened; but he set his mouth hard, and walked down into the water.

Around him, the others were discarding their kilts, tossing the skin garments back toward the beach as they went into the water. Daniel felt the strange vibrating sensation in his legs again—the same pulsing that he had felt the day before, when the other sea dweller had spoken to him. But this was deeper pitched, and different; it was like hearing a sound through his skin, the sound of a chorus of voices.

He plunged forward and began to swim; others were swimming all around him as the sound in the water grew stronger.

Egon’s muscles knew what to do, Daniel realized; this body he wore was the body of a strong man, a skilled swimmer. He found himself stroking effortlessly, plowing ahead of the others, though Ammi was close behind him. And now the skin sound was enormous; it was as if he floated within the pipes of a gigantic organ. It was a little like Bach, Daniel thought, dizzy from the sound. It was as though his mind, flooded with the sound, thought it was vanishing, to be replaced by a rising brilliant light. Without conscious thought about the matter, he was diving down, down into the depths, and all around him he saw the others diving too.

All around the swimmers, the Sea People swam in a complex spiral, upward and downward, weaving in and out. They sang as they swam; a counterpointed web of sounds in which there did not seem to be words, but images, clearer than language.

Daniel, turning and spinning with the rest, knew with total clarity what the images were, but he could not turn them into words. With the part of his mind that still observed and listened, he knew the singing could never be made into words; the images could exist only here and now.

Then he saw Ammi, a white glimmering shape; she touched him and they moved together, weightless. Together they rose to the surface, after an eternity, and leaped half out of the water, as others were doing all around them. It was like the joyous leap of the Sea People, a great draft of air filling the lungs, and then diving down again, and again.

Daniel, deep in the green water, saw a child flying by, and a great dark shape beside it, and others, like birds. The music went on and on, increasing.

Now he was no longer an individual being; he had become a particle of light, an atom in a single great being. The creature of which he was a part sang in one voice now; the chant was a cry of joy at aliveness and being. The creature was made of human swimmers, and of dolphins, and of smaller creatures as well; of beings from the rooted sea anemones on the muddy floor to the giant orcas that sailed around the circle’s rim. And it was One; rejoicing in itself, in the sunlight that poured down through the water, in the spinning earth.

It was impossible to tell when or how the dance had ended. The swimmers had staggered wearily ashore, one by one, and scattered to their houses; the sun had gone down and the mist had risen heavily on the bay.

Daniel woke and saw a faint greyness at the window. He was sprawled across the bed, only partly covered by the skins. His skin tingled with the salt rime that had dried on it, but it was not unpleasant. And he saw his breath, misty in the cold; but he did not feel chilled.

Ammi slept, half-across him, one arm about his neck. In the dimness he could see only the pale hair and a vague shape; but he could hear her slow, contented breathing. A sharp, pleasant odor of salt came from the hair that lay across his shoulder.

He stared at the window, trying to remember.

He had wondered why the Vanir had nothing that seemed to be a religion; it seemed to him that almost all primitives had myths and gods. Now, Daniel realized, they needed nothing as simple as an idol.

He tried to recall what he had read of ancient Hindu ideas, Buddhist theology,
a
whole scrap pile of fragments from books from the world he had lost. None of it had made much sense, Daniel remembered; muddy notions about the unity of life, about time and space and the ocean of Brahma. Now, he thought, he was beginning to see what they had all been talking about, back there. And why they’d never been able to explain it all clearly.

Or reach the thing they talked about, either, he thought grimly.
The image of the world of his birth rose, sharply clear in his mind, bright and terrible; a world of steel and glass, where the sun shone dimly through a poison mist on the surface of a dying sea.

We hated everything that lived, Daniel thought with an inner shiver. Because we couldn’t speak to the others, they had to be enemies.

An airplane dove and fire slashed out; an eagle exploded into a cloud of bloodstained feathers.

The bones of bison lay, mile after mile, beside the railway tracks.

A great iron ship opened a gaping door, like the mouth of a monster; steel cables drew a dying whale in while the stink of death fanned out behind the ship, across the sea.

Daniel blinked and rubbed a hand across his eyes. The girl made a faint sound and shifted a little; her eyes opened sleepily.

“At least we didn’t leave ourselves out,” Daniel muttered aloud, looking at the girl. “We killed each other, too…”

But he had spoken in English. Ammi stared, uncomprehending; then she lifted herself on one elbow, to face Daniel.

“You were speaking in your own language,” she said in a low voice, her eyes on his. “Were you… thinking of the other?
Of your own woman?”

He grinned slowly. “You’re my woman,” he said; his hand came to her smooth shoulder. But she
stayed,
her face expressionless.

“I do not blame you,” she said. “I, too… I thought of the other.” But he noticed that she had not used Egon’s name now. He smiled at her again.