Seacliff

Chapter seventy-six: Colony territory

1940

Father and son froze in their tracks.

Soldiers, Aidan feared, then saw that they carried blades and bows instead of automatic rifles. A native tribe, he surmised next. Until he noticed that the vast array of bodies, from pale pink to dark brown and everything in-between, wore nothing but their weapons. He averted his gaze. These were selkies. Armed selkies.

"Forgive us," Sorley called out, in English – it would appear selkies did not all speak the same language. "I was not aware this had become colony territory, we only meant to rest for the night before we continue south in the morning."

A tall man separated himself from the group, using his double-edged spear for a walking stick. Aidan had the distinct impression of watching a classical sculpture come to life. A bronze-cast javelin thrower, glinting in the moonlight.

Despite the man's youthful appearance, strands of silver threaded through the mane of long, plaited locks on his head. A single black pearl, shaped like an almond, hung from a string around his neck.

"What is it, boy," he demanded, "you don't like coloured bodies?"

The way he spat the word made Aidan shudder.

Sorley took a step forward. "I am sure that is not – "

The spear's blade under his chin cut Sorley short.

"I asked..." Within a swift second, the blade moved from father to son. "...him."

"I just..." Aidan's Adam apple bobbed just a hair's breadth away from the sharp metal. "It's... naked bodies that I don't like... generally speaking..."

Muted chuckles arose through the audience.

"My son is a half-breed," Sorley explained. "He grew up with clothes."

The amusement strengthened into laughter.

"And has your half-breed not bred yet?"

Sorley's eyes narrowed at the hostile tone. He glanced sideways at his son.

"No, not that I know of."

Aidan felt he couldn't possibly get any redder. The spear withdrew from his throat.

"Very well, then," the stranger said. "Whereabouts in the south are you heading?"

"America," Sorley answered.

"America," the man repeated, mocking. "Of course. But I must insist that you stay with us for a few days, enjoy some native hospitality. We love guests. I am this colony's Chief, by the way. You may call me... Mansa Musa. Come."

He feigned a gracious bow, then motioned for the newcomers to follow him. They complied, dragging their sealskins along.

"Don't let your skin out of sight," Sorley advised his son in Irish, his voice low. "Don't trust anyone and do as I say."

Aidan tilted his head in a subtle nod. The other colony members trailed close behind, surrounding them, flitting in and out of view as trees passed them by. A ginger-haired girl found Aidan's eye and grinned. It made his cheeks burn brighter than her hair. She giggled alongside her brunette companion, and a distraught Aidan stumbled over an unseen obstacle on the ground.

"Oh, f – What the..."

The expletive died on his tongue when he saw the branch that had caught his foot was, in fact, a big, bare bone. It looked suspiciously like a femur. Aidan gulped. The procession had advanced without him, leaving him in darkness. A flickering light ahead guided his hurried steps.

"Are you all right?" his da asked, still in Irish.

Aidan evened out his heaving breaths. "Not sure. What is this place?"

Sorley avoided answering, his prudent gaze trained on the Chief's lethal spear.

Mansa Musa led them to a clearing in the forest, where several selkies sat around a growing fire. The rest of the procession joined their ranks. Sorley chose to camp some way off, by a large tree on the meadow's outskirts. The Chief granted his permission, allowing Sorley to fish in their waters.

"Wait here," Sorley instructed his son. "I won't be long."

Aidan plopped down on a bed of moss, resting against the tree trunk. "Where else would I go?"

"You might be tempted to... partake in the proceedings." Sorley's eyes darted briefly to the rowdy crowd dancing around the fire. "I would not recommend it, as I am not familiar with the rules of this colony."

"Do you know any of these selkies?"

Men and women, naked, coupled up and exchanged partners, or grouped in circles, spinning round and round. A very lascivious display of the lack of inhibition selkies practised so well. Aidan's human manners made him feel ill at ease even from a distance.

"I used to know Mansa Musa," Sorley said, "but under a different name... and he was not a Chief."

Aidan would have asked more, if his stomach hadn't grumbled in protest. His da took off towards the sound of a rushing river and the boy scoured his immediate proximity for any spare twigs to start his own fire.

Despite his discomfiture, the 'proceedings' certainly piqued Aidan's scholarly interest. He'd never had contact with other selkies besides his father and half-sisters, who didn't belong to a specific colony. They migrated as they saw fit, not bound by rules or customs or a homestead.

He wondered if the orgy taking shape in the clearing was part of some mystic mating ritual. It reminded him of the blue film Jemmy had made him watch, and he turned his eyes from the scene. Though not before the redhead from earlier spotted him staring.

She came over with her friends. "Would you like to join us, then?"

Her Irish accent startled him. It sounded too much like his mother's.

"Uh... No..." He cleared his throat and faced the women. "Thank you... for the invitation."

They giggled some more at his obvious embarrassment.

"Have you got a lass back home? A human lass?"

He shook his head. "No, no lass, I just..."

Dropping to his knees, he busied himself with lighting his twigs as an excuse not to look at their bodies anymore. Their shapely, beautiful bodies, overwhelming his human sensibilities.

"I mean no offence, of course," he added. "I... appreciate the hospitality, I simply fear I am severely... out of my depth."

The ginger laughed. "Well, if you happen to change your mind..."

Winking, she whipped round and chattered to her companions as they walked away. Men braver than Aidan welcomed them with open arms.