Songs of the Whale Clan: Book One Message from Wehris

By Geoff Armstrong

Songs of the Whale Clan: Message from Wehris is the first in a series of three books that tell the story of a little seal, two young orcas and an old seagull who team up with Wehris, a strange, new kind of octopus with powerful and amazing powers. Together, they work to save the oceans of the world from the planet’s most dangerous species: the human race. Their first goal is to stop what they believe is an attempt by humans to use the oceans of the world without regard for the countless creatures who live there. While their efforts to help other creatures of the sea and their adventures place their lives in great danger, they quickly learn that there is a great deal they don’t know about humans. They also learn that the greatest danger they face doesn’t come from humanity. It comes from within themselves. This helps them to realize that unless they begin to truly understand humanity, all their noble efforts, perhaps even their lives, will be wasted.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Feb 6, 2020
• ISBN: 9781728345697

Geoff Armstrong

- no au description -

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

INTO THE STORM

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T he huge wave lifted the little seal completely out of the water, then submerged him briefly in a torrent of sound and foam. Intent on his journey, the seal ignored the danger, but the wave, born in the depths of the sea and strengthened by the rising wind was a warning, and only the first of many.

Had he heeded its message, he would have escaped what lay ahead, and his life would have been forever different. Instead, he paid no attention to the danger. and pressed on, passing by a nearby island that would have meant safety.

His journey had already taken him across many miles of open water. Now, as he crossed the last, long expanse of sea, he began to worry about how his day of exploration might be punished.

The Chief-male will probably have me beaten, he said to himself.

But concern for what lay ahead could not spoil the fun he’d had nor take anything away from the interesting things he’d seen. He was always ready to trade a few minutes of punishment for a whole day of fun.

He was a young seal, not yet full grown, with a long sleek body, covered in short black fur and perfectly designed for easy swimming. A pair of unusual white stripes ran from just above his eyes, up over his head and all the way down his back. The stripes made him look as if he was moving faster.

His eyes were his most noticeable feature. They were large and dark, and deep within them burned a sparkling curiosity that made him very different from all the other seals of his pack, and the things he saw filled him with the urge to know.

It was this curiosity that constantly pulled him away: first to the bays and inlets around Home Island itself, then, as he grew bigger and stronger, to reefs and islands farther and farther away.

At birth he’d been given the name Ga-lelk. It was an ugly name that reminded him of the sounds the old bulls made when they gobbled down the fat fish they were so fond of – it was a noise, not a name. As soon as he was old enough, he changed it to Tika, which was bright and quick, just as he was.

Far to the west, the sun was disappearing behind a black ridge of clouds that ate away the light and stained the sea a dark brooding gray.

He was too inexperienced to understand the sea’s complex language of sound and light and wave patterns. Had he been able to understand their meaning, he would have noticed the rising wind and the changing rhythm of the waves. Instead, his mind was on Home Island.

It was the only home he had ever known, but he found it depressing. It was dirty and oppressive, and even though he was usually surrounded by hundreds of other seals, he was often lonely. Although the other young seals admired him for his speed and daring, they were too afraid to join him on his travels, so he had few friends. That spring, his mother had given birth yet again, and the new young one took all of her time. Tika accepted this, but it added to his loneliness.

His worst problems were with Koruk, the Chief-male, and with Koruk’s followers. For a long time he’d managed to hide his curiosity and his difference, but difference was not tolerated by the Chief-male or those who guarded the Chief-male’s interests. As he got older and more independent he became a frequent target of their disapproval, and lately, of their anger.

There were about two dozen of them, all large, dangerous males who forced the other seals to obedience. They took the best food, the best resting places, the best of everything. Tika had heard stories of their punishments, and he was not ashamed to be afraid.

Another gust of wind interrupted his thoughts. He stopped swimming and looked around.

The black clouds now claimed half the sky, turning the water to a dark, sickly green. Along the horizon, a line of rainsqualls slanted down into the sea, telling him that swimming would soon become more difficult.

He wasn’t worried. Not yet. But it was going to take longer to get home, and he wondered if he would make it before nightfall.

The time passed quickly. Soon, the young seal was swimming through a growing clamor of wind and rain. Waves, barely noticeable earlier, had grown into large, dangerous, white-capped ridges that pummeled him with their constant turbulence. With increasing frequency, larger waves lost stability and tumbled over upon themselves, sometimes burying Tika in a mass of choking white foam.

He paused again to get his bearings and was surprised to see how dark it was. Afternoon had filled with a darkness that poured from the sky and surged from the sea with the rain and the waves.

He resumed swimming, but the sea had grown angrier and he could no longer be sure he was going the right way. To add to his confusion, a strong cross-tide was running, and Tika found himself battling a current that kept trying to drag him sideways. For a long, frightening moment, the awesome mixture of forces transformed the waves into gigantic, evil tentacles that reached up from the depths to drag him down. Then, for a brief, deceptive pause, the wind and the rain seemed to hesitate, making him believe that the storm was over and that he was safe.

It returned with a tremendous blast and his world turned into a savage torrent of black fury. Direction ceased to have any meaning. All he knew was the noise and the swirling night.

A terrible feeling of despair flooded over him, brought on by the strain and the growing exhaustion. Somewhere, deep within his being, he felt the first cold clutch of real terror.

This was a sea he had never known. Many times in his young life he had experienced storms, especially in the winter when the great breakers rumbled down upon Home Island, but this was different: this storm kept growing and growing, wave piled upon wave, turning from hills into rampaging mountains, and when they broke over him now it was not the white foam he’d encountered earlier, but an enormous mass of cold, churning chaos that smashed him deep below the surface or tossed him into the raging wind and rain.

Dimly, he became aware that he had stopped trying to go anywhere. He fought only to remain on the surface long enough to take in the tiny bit of air he needed to stay alive. His body was in agony. Every kick, every movement was filled with pain and he knew he would soon be unable to fight.

He was tossed up and smashed down and tossed up and smashed down again and again. His universe was pain and violence and cold raging night and he knew in his terrified little heart that his fight was nearly done.

In some hidden place the spark that was his spirit continued to struggle, but his body was finished. It had been battered into a chunk of cold useless stone.

He began to sink and as he did, he felt himself lifted up out of the water into a soft, friendly place where there was no wind, no rain, no screaming darkness — only silence and peace.

In those final seconds, before the darkness finally took him, he felt himself come to rest on the bottom. It was smooth and very warm, but before he could wonder about it, everything went black.

CHAPTER TWO

A NEW FRIEND

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B rilliant morning sunshine drove away the last ghosts of the massive storm. The day was going to be beautiful. Not a single cloud marred the sky and though the sun had only been up a short time, the fresh sea air was already quite warm.

A gang of noisy cormorants, flying low overhead, finally awakened Tika. He lay there for a moment trying to figure out what had happened. Then he remembered the terrible storm.

Am I alive? he asked out loud.

He tried to sit up, but he was too weak and his muscles seemed to be on fire. He lay there for a moment, puzzled. He held up one of his flippers and stared at it for a moment. Then he bit it.

Owww! he yelled and waved his flipper in pain. I must be alive or I wouldn’t be able to feel anything. But how could I be? That storm killed me! he said to himself.

Completely worn out by his efforts, he lay back against a large, black, smooth object directly behind him. He just wanted to rest there for awhile and allow the warmth to ease his soreness. Eventually, he was able to raise his head and look around. He saw that he was on the shore of a small island. He lay close to the water’s edge and he could hear the waves lapping gently around him. The island was very black and shiny, and he could see himself reflected on the smooth, dark surface. Suddenly, the island trembled and spoke to him in a deep, pleasant voice.

Are you alright?

Tika was so surprised he couldn’t speak. What could he possibly say to an island? Then, below his chin, he saw a large, friendly eye that seemed to twinkle as it studied him.

Well, how are you? the voice said again.

I uh, I’m fine I think. he mumbled, still mystified.

This was getting too strange. He struggled higher and looked around. Behind him, a large, black fin glistened in the bright morning. Still puzzled, he turned back to the friendly eye.

What kind of an island are you?

Beneath him the entire island shook with what sounded like laughter. Near the shore, directly above the eye, a spray of mist and water made a tiny rainbow against the sun.

I’m not an island, the voice said. I’m a whale.

Tika was stunned.

A whale, but how? What?

Hardly aware of the pain he sat straight up.

You’re not an island, you’re a whale! he yelled, and tumbled into the sea.

In an instant the whale was beneath him again, raising him gently out of the water. When Tika finally stopped coughing he looked at the whale’s huge eye, now filled with merriment.

How did I get here? Am I dreaming this?

Which question shall I answer first? the whale laughed. To begin with, you aren’t dreaming, I really am a whale and you got here on my back.

Tika recalled the terrible last moments of the night before. You saved my life! Tika said in amazement.

The whale rumbled with amusement again. It wasn’t very difficult, I just got below you and lifted you to the surface. How are you feeling? the whale asked again.

The warmth from the sunshine and especially from the whale had taken some of the pain from Tika’s body.

A lot better, and I’m alive. You saved my life!

Had any humans been there to hear the two, they would have understood nothing. To human ears, the sounds the two animals made would have been unintelligible yelps, whistles, howls, hoots and countless sounds too far above or below the range of human hearing. Because humans had complex language, they never needed to develop many other ways to communicate. For Tika and the whale, however, like all animals, especially creatures as highly intelligent as those of their species, those unintelligible yelps, whistles, howls and hoots contained extremely detailed information. Whatever they did not have in language skills, they made up for it in other, perhaps more powerful ways. And it was more than just the sounds they made that carried information. Body movements, fleeting changes in wings, fins, eyes, a brief flicker of an ear carried information. Even if the humans had been able to hear everything or see everything, humans were far too arrogant to accept the idea that animals, even insects, could communicate. Perhaps language was a weakness.

Then Tika remembered Home Island and the Chief-male.

I must get back home! Where are we?

We’re a long way from where I found you. The whale said. I couldn’t do much swimming because I was afraid you’d fall off. The current carried us a long way. Do you recognize anything?

Tika pulled himself as high as he could. His muscles still hurt, but not as much as they had earlier.

I’m not sure, he said. "That current must have dragged me a long way off course. I don’t recognize anything.

Wait! That island over there with the large rocks around it looks familiar. I’ll have to swim over to make certain.

The whale interrupted him. You’re probably still weak from what happened to you last night. Why don’t you relax where you are. I can swim there a lot faster than you can.

Without waiting for a protest, the whale began to move toward the island. For Tika, the ride was magical. The whale’s powerful muscles drove them rapidly through the water. They made almost no wake, and there was so little movement in the whale’s body that the seal was able to brace himself easily.

Say, Tika shouted as they traveled. I haven’t really thanked you for saving my life. I don’t even know your name. Mine’s Tika.

Not really expecting to hear an answer until the whale stopped swimming, Tika was surprised to hear the whale reply in a clear, easy voice.

That makes two of us. I don’t know my name either. But I’m glad to meet you, Tika.

Once again, the little seal asked several questions. You don’t know your own name? Weren’t you ever given one? Why are you alone? Where do you live? How do you breathe when you’re swimming?

Wait, Tika, the whale called out. "I’ll never remember all those questions.

The one about breathing is easiest, the whale continued. Do you see that hole in front of you? That’s how I breathe. I’m not sure how it works, but I can make sounds through my breathing hole too.

The whale demonstrated by producing a piercing howl that ended with a series of honks and steamy toots.

Fascinated, Tika looked more closely at the opening, and saw that it was far more complicated than it first appeared. It was surrounded by powerful muscles that changed shape as he watched. At first it was merely a round opening that narrowed to a thin oval as the whale made an eerie moaning sound. Suddenly, the oval flattened out, and the howl turned into the throaty gronk of an angry sea lion. When it became round again, a torrent of air rushed in. In the momentary pause the whale explained that this was how whales send messages over great distances.

Sometimes, he added, we just like to sing. Anyway, here’s the island.

Tika had completely forgotten what he was doing here. He saw now that they had arrived at the island he thought he’d recognized.

Yes. This is it. I know where I am now. Do you see that rock split in half and that one with the flat top? All I have to do is line them up and I can go straight home. It’s a long way, and I guess I should get started, but you still haven’t told me about your name.

The whale was silent and Tika sensed a deep sadness. When the whale spoke, the sadness was in his voice.

No one ever gave me a name.

Tika was amazed, and would have barraged him with questions again, but the tone of the whale’s voice made him realize that the only decent response was silence.

I don’t have a name because I don’t have a family to give me one. I am alone.

Ashamed because he’d been so inconsiderate of the whale’s feelings, Tika began