Mayra's charge

Mayra looked through the spyglass that Cora had loaned to her. The bait ship was far on the horizon, nearly invisible. 

The ship she was on, a swift clipper, was flanked by two others on each side, to make a wall of five ships across. Upwind of the area where the cut fishing net had been lost, they waited for the signal. 

Far downwind, on the other side of the roiling mass of chaotic sea, the sixth ship was about to drop the partial net into the water. 

Theoretically, the part of the net soaking in the ocean would have had the herbs and oil diluted over time as it washed about under the waves. 

Mayra's hope was that the introduction of an undiluted source would draw the most dangerous of the sea creatures away long enough for these ships to quickly dredge with grappling hooks on long ropes and draw the cut net from the depths. 

It had taken some maneuvering to get all the ships into position without interference from the marine life in their manic frenzy. The boats were now on the edge of the area affected. 

"You still don't think this is going to work?" Mayra asked Peter beside her, handing him the spyglass. 

He took it with a skeptical glance at her, and then peered towards the horizon. 

"The wind is strong today. Let's hope it's strong enough." He replied. 

"It will be. It has to be." She responded, a little more quietly. 

He handed the spyglass back to her, and she took a deep breath. 

"Here we go." She watched as the far-off ship extended its oars, raised its remaining sails, and lowered the net off the back. 

Mayra furrowed her brow. She and Peter had rigged up the ropes in such a way that hopefully the nets were quickly retractable if the boat got into trouble. The mixture seemed to not only attract the creatures, but drive them mad. 

How much had Edmar concentrated the herbs to produce such a result? Mayra thought of the cats that had kept her barn free of mice when she was young. There was a certain plant that grew outside that, when it bloomed, would make them stop whatever they were doing to go chew on it, rub on it, and generally undergo a temporary personality change. 

She'd never wondered before what would happen if she had taken the plant and distilled it down into a more concentrated form.

Turning the spyglass to the roiling section of sea before her, she wondered now. 

The sight before her was harrowing, and grotesque. Her stomach turned at the sight of the feeding frenzy. It was not for the faint of heart to observe. The density of animals in one place alone was something to behold. 

Mayra had never seen most of them, other than as dishes on Cetoan tables. The larger ones she'd never seen at all. A great, slithering back emerged from the water for several seconds before turning and slipping back under the surface. It was enormous. 

She lowered the spyglass. Had the creature turned in the correct direction? 

Slowly, the water directly in front of them began to still. It was as if an exodus were occurring. Fish and ocean-dwelling animals of all types receded from view. Hopefully they were following the bait ship and not simply plunging deeper into the depths. 

Mayra glanced backwards. Across the five ships, grappling hooks attached to ropes of varying lengths were lowered into the water. It was unknown at what depth the net drifted, especially in light of the turbulence of the surrounding area. 

She looked through the spyglass again. The bait ship raised a green flag, and the barrowman called out the signal for the ships to move forward as quickly as they were able.

The many sails were turned into the wind, and the hooks beneath them swept the depths, hoping that at least one of them would catch hold of the cut net and be able to draw it to the surface and out of the ocean. 

Mayra held her mouth and turned away from the sight of the water. Through the spyglass was one thing, but up close and personal with the bloated, seeping carcasses of fish, squid, whales, and other creatures was another matter entirely. 

And the smell! She had grown to love the salty smell of the air, but this distorted fishy smell of death was nothing short of nauseating. 

The contents of her stomach rebelled, but she managed to hold them down. Peter laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, and she leaned into it. 

As the ship picked up speed, each hook was manned by two crewmen, who would reel it in when something was caught. Each time they began pulling, Mayra watched with hope, only to see some gruesome sight of half-eaten thing pulled to the surface. 

But hope still burned underneath it all. The net, logically, would be near the center of the gathering of creatures, not along the edges. There was plenty of sea left to dredge. 

But they had better do it quickly. The bait ship would raise its oily net if it got into too much trouble, but that wouldn't guarantee their safety. 

What it WOULD all but guarantee was that the psychotic animals would return to where Mayra's ship now hunted for the loose net. 

Another hook was raised, with no success. Mayra looked side to side, hoping one of the other ships had caught hold of what they sought. 

"Please, please work." She pleaded quietly. 

Peter's hand squeezed her shoulder, just as their ship steered suddenly to the right in response to a cry from above. 

The barrowmen had been working overtime trying to keep apprised of the bait ship's progress as well as the ocean ahead. Such a densely occupied section of ocean was unheard of, and it proved a challenge. 

The nautical cries and respondent actions of the crew were confusing to Mayra, and she watched with trepidation as the men followed the instructions they were given. The shouts being exchanged were less than encouraging, and the ship began to veer to one side. 

"What did he say?" Mayra asked, not having heard clearly.

"Blue whale, I think," Peter replied, looking forward. 

"Whale? Those are bad, right?" 

"I know about as much as you, Mayra. I'm not terribly educated about all this, I'm afraid." Peter confessed. 

"BRACE!" Came the call. 

The turn had been disconcerting, but became moreso when the ship suddenly lurched to a near full stop. Peter and Mayra both fell to the deck. 

Her hip hit the wood with a sharp crack that she felt to her very core. Peter was already back on his feet before she could even figure out what had happened. 

Holding out his hand, he hauled her to a standing position and then leaned over the side to look forward. She joined him with a limp as the crew continued its mad scramble to mitigate the situation. 

At first Mayra thought the ship had run into solid ground, but it appeared to be a massive, slick, bleeding body of a sea creature that had been chewed and half-eaten. 

If such a creature was at the mercy of the carnivorous sea, what hope had their ship if they couldn't get free and leave the area? 

She gave up her tenuous grip on her last meal and deposited it over the side of the ship unceremoniously. 

"Gaaaah," She gasped, but Peter already had a water skin from his side to offer her. She took it gratefully and rinsed her mouth. 

The chaos around them continued. Men with long poles attempted to push the ship away from the carcass. 

"I thought you were supposed to have a strong stomach after nursing." He patted her back gently. 

"It's the smell," Mayra explained. "I've seen all manner of injury, especially in the war, but… The smell of rot. I can't abide it." 

She gagged again, but her stomach was empty now. That made it a little easier. 

He refrained from comment, and handed her the water skin before running to the bow to help push against the carcass. 

She'd dropped the spyglass when she fell before, but with the next wave it rolled toward her foot and bumped against it. Picking it up, she felt a surge of guilt for forgetting about the item Cora had loaned to her and not taking care of it. She hoped she hadn't broken it. 

She brought it up to her eye and looked forward, testing to see whether the glass was cracked or the view was blurred. 

Squinting, in the very far distance she could make out the little boat rowing and sailing furiously away from them as fast as it could. 

It had just raised a red flag with a black square and circle. 

"Oh no." She whispered, as the barrowman above announced the new signal. 

They couldn't hold out; they were in distress and giving up luring the creatures away from the area, lest they sink. 

Which meant, in all likelihood, the vicious creatures were all headed directly back at their motionless ship.