The Orca King II

Chapter One

Big Tom closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the melody hummed by his best friend, Granny Tillicum. He wanted to absorb the vibration, desperate for the comfort it offered. Fearfully, he figured he was screwed. All the signs were there. Glaring neon signs that blinked on and off, over and over again, "You're in deep shit, Tom!"

But it never hurt to ask for help. Especially from an oracle. A very wise woman.

The King needed counsel.

He'd been distracted for weeks. Unable to sleep or concentrate. Unable to enjoy the simple pleasures of life, such as eating, drinking and laughing.

He had no HMO, no primary care physician, no therapist with whom to discuss his insomnia and fatigue. He had no spouse. No soul mate along his current path. Not even a dog. It had been months since he'd taken a lover and even longer since he'd shared his special vision quest talents with a lost soul.

Worst of all, he could not shift.

This was the hardest to accept.

He could not shift.

He had been trapped in human form for six weeks, dry and solitary. He could not sing into the wind and hear its reply. He did not rule the bay or the forest. As vital a part of island life as any eco-system, his disconnection had resultant affects on tourism and the Orcas Island community. Businesses and residents were suffering. The whale-watching cruises were on hiatus for the pods would not return until they heard the call of their king.

And he could not sing to them. He heard their cries and wanted to reply, but the words escaped him. Human vocal chords could not make whale song.

Granny Tillicum, he hoped, would have an answer. He'd been embarrassed at his impotence of body and abilities and had avoided her for too long. When the very weather had remained unchanged for weeks, he knew he needed to look beyond his ego and limp member and seek counsel. As summer approached, a day or two of sunny weather, even in the Pacific Northwest, was expected. It had rained every day for sixty days. The Northwest corner of Washington's lengthy drizzle was making national news.

He knew it was his fault that the sun failed to shine. His illness affected the very land he called home. Orcas Island, the jewel of the San Juan Islands chain, had lost her protective spirit.

Tom, locked in human form, was vulnerable and subject to human traits. So deeply tied to the land creating the island and the sea surrounding it, if he felt sad and depressed, so did all who dwelled in his realm. It was the renewal of shifting that cleansed and purified him. It was the act of shifting and the aura of magic left in its wake that fed and nourished the land, as well.

The folding of space, both inner and outer, when shifting, created a by-product more valuable than gold and more healing than penicillin. Shifters called it "the wake," and its tide was more formidable than any magics on earth.

There was an analogy for "the wake" used to explain to newly created or birthed shifters how their abilities affected the world around them.

Think of a mortal as a fly clinging to the tail of a horse at full, wild gallop across a flat, even surface. So was it with humans. Some caught onto the "the wake" and rode it to glory. Some sensed its approach and spent their lives devising ways to predict it or subdue it. Others ignored it, hid from it or wished it away.

Tom's wake had enveloped Orcas Island for centuries. The effects were now wearing thin. Wearing off.

Because he had not shuffled off his mortal coil and shifted for so very long, he felt dirty; dirty inside, where no amount of scrubbing could reach. His human flesh crawled and prickled over his bones, and his shifter heart wept bitterly for want of the sea. Even the water in a drinking glass called to him. The drip from a leaky faucet taunted him. The rain punished him.

The King was suffering.

His heart ached, and his spirit pined for relief.

Hoping to find his bearings, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the tactile sensation of Granny's ancient hands. A visage of old leather saddlebags appeared in his mind. He trembled in her feeble grip. She had more power in her one-hundred-year-old hands than he had in his orca whale form. Granny was the true master of Orcas Island. He was but her humble servant when in her commanding presence.

Tom tried to relax his shoulders while projecting deep thoughts of love and respect through his arms, to his hands, and out into Granny's palms as she traveled the road of his life to help bring him absolution. No ... she did not offer absolution. She offered only painful truths.

She spoke, her soft voice resonating. "You have brought many across the waters of time to embrace their past mistakes and make right the course of their future. More vision quests have you embarked upon than any other shamanic shifter." She squeezed Tom's hands so hard he opened his eyes. Granny's usual wise but gentle expression had turned hard and cold. Facing him, staring unwavering and true with her steel eyes clouded by cataracts and age, but still able to see inside a person's heart, she leaned in and pulled him closer simultaneously. "There is an enemy at the gate, and it is his blind hatred of you and your kind that has sapped you of your strength."

Big Tom lurched back in his chair. "What? I have no enemies."

Granny held fast to his hands. "You are your own worst enemy, Tom. You've always known this, yes?" She chuckled knowingly. "Your sexual appetites have gotten you into trouble before. But now, your physical pursuits have awakened something harmful. Though you helped many to cross over their own past mistakes to shed light into their current existences, it is clear that you used many others for your own needs. For every woman you seduced into an unnecessary erotic vision quest, there was left behind a shadow. Gathered and twisted and bound together, the shadow has grown and now fills the gap between this world and the next. You cannot shift without pain, for your animal spirits are in agony. Hard-pressed by the darkness you have created with your indiscriminate sexual appetites, the shadow of your poor choices has freed the beast you put asunder at the beginning of time." She paused. "The serpent returns. He's waiting for you, on the other side."

Big Tom cringed. Her tone was scolding and humiliating in its truth. "Women are my treasure. My addiction. Far from being a predatory lover--"

"No. That's it exactly. You are a predator, and it's coming back to haunt you. You have raped their memories for your own pleasure, and those negative causes are now manifesting in negative effects," Granny replied.

"I meant no harm. I am willing to make amends." He hung his head. His shoulders slumped forward. If he'd a tail, it would have gone between his legs. "I should not have acted so selfishly. Grandmother," Big Tom said. "What must I do to cleanse myself of this painful shadow of poor decisions and usury? How can I defeat a beast which cannot be seen or heard or felt except when I am in a shared past?"

"This is not a confessional for whale gods," Granny replied.

"You see me more clearly than I see myself. You know me more intimately than I know myself. You are my heart, my mind, my ambition, and you are my fixed point in the heavens--she who steadies my course. What must I do?"

"Quit making excuses, and stop bullshitting me--and yourself, Tom. I foresee that you must help alleviate the suffering of another afflicted with gray shadows of heart and mind. This person carries the spirit of the serpent within--but is oblivious to the dark stain. This person takes medication to control the voice of the serpent god, for he has heard it all his life, but soon--there will be no stopping it, and you will be drawn in and consumed. Only by embracing the black serpent will your shadow dissipate and leave you free to shift and rule as king once again. This act is far outside your comfort zone. It will be your hardest shift yet."

"How will I know her?" Big Tom asked.

Granny looked up and smiled slyly. Her voice took on a far-away tone of an ancient oracle. "You will be recognized for what you are and shall be approached. Only this person can open the doorway for you to defeat the serpent from your past. If you do not follow the path that opens upon your meeting, then you must pass your crown to another." Granny placed her tongue on the roof of her mouth and hissed through her teeth to indicate who the next king might be.

Tom nodded. "All right."

"You must be flexible and cast your ego aside to win this battle, Tom, or Orcas Island will wither. Never has there been a stronger connection to the land than through you and your eternal ties to the beast and the stranger who shall lead you on your quest."

Big Tom sighed. He could sense Granny wasn't finished.

"And Tom," she continued. "No woman shall you hold in your arms until you have confronted the monster from your past. This will not be easy for you. Like the ocean now taunts you, so shall the scent of all women. Like the sting of water's powerful grasp on your human form, so shall the touch of a woman burn. You must advance by conquering your addiction. And then you may find you no longer desire the soft flesh of women."

"You speak in paradox, Grandmother. You say I shall share a vision quest with a woman, which surely means sexual relations, yet say I cannot hold a woman until I have confronted my shadow. I have been living a celibate life for weeks," Tom replied. He cast a seductive glance at Granny. "And I will always love women."

"Did you listen carefully, Tom?" Her eyes twinkled mischievously. "Not by choice have you been celibate. It must be your choice. Just as it should have been theirs to be mind-fucked by you," Granny said. "And I do not speak of paradoxical events. You must think beyond your self-imposed limitations."

Big Tom withheld a snort and laugh at hearing Granny Tillicum use such vulgarity. "I understand," he replied humbly.

"No, I don't think you quite do. But you will. And don't come running to me when the truth hits you in the face. This time, you're on your own. Do what you must to enter the realm where you can embrace the serpent and defeat your shadows. And Tom?"

"Yes?"

"It's more than just sex. This vision quest will lead to something you have experienced, but never fully embraced. Love. Love, Tom."

"I have loved. I have married," Tom replied.

"Yes. But this love is a love beyond all that. You are going to be re-united with your other half. Your missing half. Be prepared, Tom."

Tom's face reflected disdain. "I have never been separated from my other half until now. The sea is my wife, mistress and lover."

Granny's laugh filled her small woodland cottage. "Go away, Tom. Pull your kelp up by its roots and swim on. I need to prepare for a journey, and so do you."

"Where are you going?" Tom asked.

"I'll meet you there. Don't worry about me," Granny replied, shooing Tom out the door.