The Deep (13 page)

But it’s completely dark now. Darker than it ever gets in the human world. It’s like being wrapped round and round in a cocoon of black cloth that covers your mouth and nose and ears and then getting picked up and turned until your head whirls and you don’t know which way is the surface and which the seabed.

I fight my panic down. Conor. Faro. I’ve got to think of them. The whale can’t leave us here. We’ll all die, and then no one will ever be able to put the Kraken back to sleep.

“But, whale, dear whale, if you leave us here, we’ll never find our way home. We’ll be lost in the Deep forever.”

A faint, cautious chuckle shivers the whale’s sides. “Of course I shall come back for you,” she whispers.

“But you’ll never find us again.”

“I am a hunter, little one. You must trust me. I shall find you. Now come out, and swim over my body until you reach your companions. Keep within touch of me.”

Leaving the shelter of the whale’s flipper is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I want to stay there, curled tight in the only shelter I know. Reluctantly, hesitantly, I feel my way through darkness that is so thick I think I could pick up handfuls of it. There’s the curve of her
flipper. There’s the slope of her back. That’s where I must swim up and then down to the flipper on the other side, where Conor and Faro are waiting.

I cling close to the whale’s rough, pitted skin. My arms and legs can barely move because the water is so thick and the pressure of the Deep so enormous. I’m glad I can’t see myself. It feels as if the Deep has flattened me out to a shadow.

I struggle on, one hand touching her curved back for safety.

“Can you go faster, little one? I must breathe soon.”

My heart thumps heavily in my body with the effort of moving. The upward curve of the whale’s back seems to go on forever, and then at last it flattens, and I begin to feel my way down the other side.

“Forward a little,” whispers the whale.

The Deep is pushing me away from the whale’s body. I cling to her as I scull my way down her other side, not daring to kick in case it takes me away into the blackness that waits everywhere.

“Stop. You’re there.”

My feet find the outward shape of her flipper.

“Conor?” I whisper. “Faro?”

No one answers. My heart fills with dread. Perhaps the dive has killed them. Perhaps the whale only thinks they’re still tucked behind her flipper when really they’ve been swept away into the Deep.

I feel my way cautiously around the flipper. My foot kicks something, and I almost scream aloud, and then a voice says furiously, “That’s my tail, fool.”

“Faro?”

“Sapphire, is it you? I thought you were a creature of the Deep.”

“Didn’t you hear me call your names?”

“Our heads are ringing.”

“Where’s Conor? Is he all right?”

Conor’s voice comes so faintly that I can’t hear the words.

“Oh, Faro, he’s hurt!”

“No, it’s just that we can’t tell if we’re shouting or whispering. We’re deafened.”

“Conor!” I find his hand and clutch it. I’d recognize the feel of Conor’s hand anywhere, even here at the bottom of the world. He squeezes it back, and my heart fills with relief. He’s alive.

“Hurry, little one. All of you, come forward. I will make a wave to take you to the Kraken’s lair.”

I feel the boys slowly easing their way out. The whale’s voice follows me. “Are you all right, little one? Did my dive hurt you?”

“Not the dive,” I whisper. “It was the noise.”

I still can’t hear my own voice clearly. It’s muffled, as if I’m talking inside my own head. The weight of the Deep presses on me. Mustn’t think of it. Mustn’t think of the
heaviness of the water or how far away the surface is. Even if it weren’t dark, to see it would be like staring up from the bottom of the tallest skyscraper in the world.

No, farther than that. How far can whales dive? Sperm whales are one of the deepest divers; I do remember that.

Don’t think of it.

I drag my mind away, the way I’d drag a baby from the edge of a cliff.

We work our way forward along the whale’s body in slow motion, as if we’ve got heavy weights pulling on our arms and legs. I keep hold of Conor’s hand. As long as we’re together, as long as we hold on tight to each other, we’ll survive. Faro must be on the other side of Conor, holding his wrist and giving him strength and oxygen.

We’re moving along her broad flank. I try to remember what the shape of a sperm whale’s jaw is like, because we’ll need to negotiate our way around it. She’s dead still, hanging there in the water, waiting for us.

Her head’s like a box; I know that. Sperm whales look like the kind of whale children draw. I wonder if her jaw is open. What if her teeth mistake us for food?

Don’t be stupid, Sapphire. She’s got much more knowledge than you, down here in the Deep.
Her sound system knows where we are and what shape we are. Everything’s clear to her, although we humans are like prisoners who’ve been bound and hooded and then told to identify objects wrapped in a black velvet bag.

But she’s going to leave us. We’re going to be on our own.
She says she’ll come back for us, but maybe there won’t be any “us” to come back for by the time she returns to the Deep.

The whale’s voice comes like the sough of the wind. So big a creature can’t really whisper, but she’s doing her best. “Move forward. Move forward. You must leave my shelter now.”

“But how will we know when we’ve reached the Kraken’s lair? It’s so dark. You can’t see anything.”

“You will know. He makes lairlight. We whales don’t speak of it in the higher world.”

We must be directly in front of the whale now. Inky dark stretches ahead of us. We’ve got to push off from her protecting bulk and survive alone in the Deep.

“Move forward, and then I can help you on your way.”

We edge forward. Conor’s hand grips mine reassuringly, and suddenly, for the first time since we entered the Deep, I hear his voice.

“Saph?”

“Conor!”

His voice is squeezed by the pressure of the Deep, but it’s unmistakably my brother’s voice.

“Are you okay, Saph?”

“I’m all right.”

“My ears have stopped ringing. I couldn’t hear anything before.”

The whale is behind us now. If I stretched out, I wouldn’t be able to touch her.
Don’t go,
I plead silently.
Don’t leave us alone in the Deep.

Maybe the whale picks up my thoughts. Her voice curls into my ear in a murmur that’s so low, it’s almost inaudible. “If you want, little barelegs, you can come back with me.”

I want to so much. It’s like being about five years old and rushing out of school to throw your arms round your mum and hide your face in her skirt. I want to hide in the whale’s safety and blot out the memory of the Deep. If only I could go with her and never, ever come back again.

But I’m not five years old. And I’m not alone. There’s Conor and Faro. They trust me. I was the one who agreed with Ervys that I’d go back to the Deep. They came because I did.

“No, dear whale. I can’t come with you. I have to stay here.”

“Stay here…,” echoes the whale. “I keep forgetting that you are not mine. But if you were mine, you would never have left the surface—

“I shouldn’t have said that,” she adds in a hurried, guilty whisper. “I don’t know what came over me…. But you won’t tell Saldowr?”

“Of course not.”

“How I wish I could remember a good joke, to send you on your way.”

“Never mind,” I say gently. “Perhaps next time.”

The others don’t seem to have heard our conversation. It’s as if the whale and I have got a private wavelength. Just as well. What if Conor had heard her tempting me to leave him and Faro behind in the Deep?

“I must rise,” says the whale in a faint voice that would be a sigh if there were any air in the Deep. “Whatever happens, I will come back for you. And now hold tight and wait for your wave.”

A stir begins in the dark water. She’s turning. We clutch hands. It’s the wave coming. The wave the whale’s making for us. I peer behind me but can’t see anything. I think I know what she’s doing. Her vast tail is moving up and down, lashing the water. The wave will rise and race, growing in height and power as it rushes at us and lifts us and throws us with the speed of an arrow toward…

T
HERE’S LIGHT AHEAD OF US
. It’s a dead, numb light, like neon filtered through nylon. It pushes out greedy fingers into the Deep, searching, reaching out for us.

Now the darkness of the Deep feels like a friend. This is the kind of light someone would make out of nightmares and evil thoughts.

“It’s lairlight,” I whisper.

“What?”

“Lairlight. That’s what the whale called it. Light where there shouldn’t be any light. The Kraken makes it.”

The whale’s wave was much too powerful. It’s brought us straight to the Kraken’s lair. I turn, and for the first time since we left the Groves of Aleph I can see Faro’s and Conor’s faces. They look as if they’ve been hit by an
enormous force that bruises from the inside without leaving marks on the skin. Faro’s face is drained by exhaustion. Conor looks battered but determined.

“Do you think he’s there?” I whisper.

“Of course he’s—”

“Of course of course of course,” says another voice, light as a feather and silky smooth but with the same greed in it that shines through the light. “Of course I am here to welcome you,
myrgh kerenza
.” The voice gives a sycophantic giggle. “Isn’t that what they call you? Have I got it right?”

“How do you—?”

“Oh, I have my messengers. You think the Kraken has no friends? You think everybody hates me? No no no no no no no. That’s not how it is at all. And you’ve brought your friends to play with me. How nice.”

His voice noses its way toward us like an octopus’s tentacle. I press close to Conor, but Conor pushes me gently away and swims forward a stroke.

“Show yourself then,” he says calmly. “How can you be our friend if we can’t see you?”

“Oh, no no no no no no no no. It doesn’t work like that.
You
have to come and see
me.
”

Faro has moved to Conor’s side, and I swim forward too, through the leaden water. Every instinct in my body is telling me to turn and flee as far as I can.

“You only have to come toward the light. It’s not difficult,” says the Kraken.

The Kraken’s lairlight fingers flicker and make sudden darts at us, but the force of the Deep thrusts them back before they touch us. The Deep seems to be on our side now, protecting us. As long as we stay clear of the lairlight, maybe the Kraken can’t hurt us.

But in that case, little sister, what have we come here for?
I’m so close to Faro that even the Deep itself can’t block his thoughts from me, and they come alive in my head.
Why have we risked the Deep if we’re not going to fight? We can’t put the Kraken back to sleep by hiding from him. Saldowr gave us a mission.

Faro’s fighting spirit gives me courage. He’s right; we mustn’t forget why we’ve come. Remember the white stones and the red stone. The little Mer children who don’t know anything about the Kraken yet. We’re here because we want to make sure that they never will.

You have to come toward the light.

The Kraken was taunting us, but he was right too. We have to brave the lairlight.

Faro’s braced, ready for action. I wish I could look as calm and determined as Conor does. Lairlight stabs toward me, and I flinch.

Toward the light. Toward the light.

The decision is made without words. We move forward. If we thought any more, we’d never do it. Slowly we swim side by side until the first of the lairlight fingers touches us.

It doesn’t hurt. It’s all right. We didn’t need to be so scared.

Suddenly I can’t remember what we’re doing here.
What’s the point of it?
My mind and heart are as heavy as my limbs. Darkness sweeps into my head. Conor…Faro…they’re a thousand miles away, behind a wall of black, icy glass. I see them and hear them, but I can’t feel anything.
What am I doing here? Why did we ever think it was important to stop the Kraken? No one can stop the Kraken. The Kraken is real, and everything else is false. Even Saldowr…Saldowr…

My mind struggles, trying not to be swamped. Faro is trying to reach me.
It’s the lairlight, Sapphire. It’s the lairlight. You’ve got to fight it.

He’s right, I realize slowly. It’s the lairlight painting blackness into my mind and killing all the thoughts except the ones it wants. But maybe the lairlight knows the truth. Maybe all those things, like riding with the dolphins and talking on the rocks with Faro, were just dreams. Stupid dreams that you cling to because you’re so afraid of the truth.

Fingers of light flicker over my skin. They’re probing, penetrating—

Faro’s right. Got to fight them. Like octopus tentacles. You have to—you have to peel them off.

Slowly, with an enormous effort, I summon up my strength. I won’t let the lairlight kill my thoughts. I’ll think
of the whale. Her huge, rough body. Her kindness. The way she found me in the Deep and rescued me. She didn’t need to do it; she just did it because her heart is twice as big as my body.

No,
jeers the lairlight,
that whale’s a big soft old fool who likes you only because she’s stupid enough to muddle you up with one of her own brats.

I’ll think of Saldowr instead. His wisdom and the way he believes in us.

Believes in you? He’s desperate, that’s all. You’re not Mer, so he’s quite happy about throwing your lives away as long as there’s a one-in-a-hundred chance of helping his precious Ingo.

The dolphins. The rush of our journeys with them through the sparkling water. Dolphin language and dolphin intelligence and dolphin loyalty.

This time the lairlight hesitates for a few seconds before it shoots back.
Humans are always mushy about dolphins. That doesn’t stop you from killing them, does it? How many dead dolphins were washed up on your beaches last year? How many choke to death in tuna nets? How the dolphins must hate you.

My mind is gasping. I can’t think of any more thoughts to fight the lairlight. But at that moment Faro twists me to face him. His face is torn with pain. The lairlight must have got deep into his mind too.

“Got to…help each other, Sapphire! Think together. Stronger together. Think of the reef.”

My thoughts join with Faro’s. We’re in the sunwater, not far below the surface, gazing down into the beauty of an offshore reef. Weed sways gently. A cloud of striped baby fish separates, and the fish spurt into rock hollows. Coral glistens, and a wrasse glides by. Starfish stretch out their arms; mussels open to the taste of salt water; jewel anemones cling to the rock. Filtered green and turquoise light dances over everything. And there’s a leatherback turtle in the distance, chasing a school of jellyfish—

What a pathetic idea of heaven—a few old rocks with fish swimming in and out of them!
sneers the lairlight.

But this time I don’t listen. That voice can yammer away as much as it likes, but the beauty of the reef is much stronger. In my mind Faro is with me, smiling and strong, sculling the water so he stays in place against the tug of the current. Our hair flows around our faces, tangling. I’m hoping to see the velvet swimming crabs that Faro told me were around here somewhere….

The lairlight retreats, whickering maliciously to itself. It is still touching me, but it can’t get into me anymore.

But I’ve forgotten about Conor. He’s in the lairlight too. Has it overwhelmed him?

“Conor, think about Elvira!”

“Think about Elvira?” Conor sounds surprised and completely normal. “What for?”

“It’ll get the lairlight out of your head.”

“What do you mean?”

Faro and I stare at him in disbelief. “Didn’t you feel it?”

“Nope. Nothing.”

“Oh.”

So while I was struggling, nearly drowning in the lairlight’s influence, Conor was perfectly all right.

“That is so unfair,” I murmur.

“What?”

“Nothing, Conor.”

“He’s too good to live; that’s his trouble,” grumbles Faro.

“Too good to live…what a fascinating concept,” repeats the spoiled, silky voice of the Kraken. “So you don’t like my lairlight. What a pity. What…a…pity. Some people can’t live without it. But even so, see, you have entered into it. And here I am again. Peekaboo!”

I start violently. Water swirls round me like oil. Something jumps in the corner of my eye. A man? No. There’s a seal’s tail, as strong as Faro’s. One of the Mer? But the Mer can’t live here. The tail vanishes, but now a sea serpent coils and stretches through the water toward me. On my left a shark’s jaws open, showing row after row of jagged brown-edged teeth. I flinch to the right, but there a purple Portuguese man-of-war stretches out its tentacles. Ahead of me a cloud of piranha feasts on a lump of rotten meat. I look behind me, and a Mer man stands wrapped in a cloak like Saldowr’s. But it’s not Saldowr. It’s Ervys, arms folded, watching me with a cold sneer.

Conor and Faro see them too. Faro raises his crossed arms over his face to ward them off. Conor plunges to my side and holds me close.

And then comes the worst thing of all, which makes me cry out in horror. The giant sea slug that used to live in my nightmares when I was little and wake me up shaking and shivering. From the mouth of the sea slug comes a faint, giveaway little giggle, the kind of titter you might get from a clever bully who’s pulled a trick you don’t understand.

“It’s him,” says Faro through gritted teeth. “They’re all him. He’s a shape-shifter.”

The shapes flitter and fleer around us, whirling until we’re dizzy.

“They’re not real,” Conor says, gripping me tightly, and it sounds like a prayer. “They can’t hurt us, Saph. Look at me, not at them.”

I do as he says, and even though my own fear is reflected in his eyes, I feel calmer. We’re in this together, the three of us. The Kraken can change shape as much as he wants, but he’s only got himself. And looking at Conor’s face, I see something else. The talisman, hanging from his neck. Maybe it was the talisman that helped Conor into the Deep. Maybe that’s the limit of the talisman’s powers, but it’s just possible that it can do more. For a second, in the lairlight, I believe that I can see features on the face of the diving figure.

“Conor, look, your talisman!”

His hand goes to it automatically. His fist clenches tight over it, and then he releases his grip, and I realize that he was right all along. Conor saw from the beginning what I’m only just starting to notice. The diving figure has Conor’s face, even though he is Mer. I don’t know what this means, but I’m afraid.
If this is a portrait of my brother, what does it mean? Is it a portrait of what is or only of what might be?

My thoughts break off. Conor is gathering himself. Power is flowing into him, as it did when he faced the guardian seals, as it did when he read the runes that made the keystone heal itself. He raises his arms against the weight of the Deep, as if he’s invoking something.

A shiver runs through me. This is my brother, but at the same time it’s not the Conor I know. It’s someone who reaches beyond Conor and can do things that my everyday brother couldn’t even imagine.

“In the name of our Mer blood,” says Conor in a voice that’s like a chant. “In the name of our human blood. Mer and human, I command you to come forth.”

Everything stops. The shapes vanish. The world stops jittering and becomes calm. The wicked little Kraken voice is dumb.

He’s done it
, I think.
He’s stopped the Kraken’s mouth.

Silence hangs. My mind is numb. I don’t know what to think anymore. Can Conor really be strong enough to defeat the Kraken with just a few words? I want to believe
it, but somehow it feels too easy. Faro and I float motionlessly, waiting and hoping. Conor’s arms are still upraised. The silence lengthens, lengthens, like a drop of oil ready to fall from a spoon.

And then there’s a tiny giggle. My heart sinks. It’s the Kraken; it’s got to be. No one else could put so much malice into a sound as small as that. The Kraken giggles again, then finds his voice. It’s only a thread of a voice at first, but as soon as I hear it, I know that the Kraken hasn’t changed. How could I have expected Conor to overcome a monster who has been prowling the Deep for more than fifty life spans? Life isn’t like that.

The Kraken is back—and full of bravado. “Not quite good enough, my friends,” he mocks us. “Here I am, back again. Peekaboo!”

In spite of all his courage, Conor’s shoulders slump as his arms fall to his sides. Despair sweeps over all three of us. The nightmare circus is starting again. The shapes close round us, taunting us, hunting us down.

“I did my best, Saph,” mutters Conor.

“I know you did.”

The Deep makes hollow echoes out of our voices. We’ll never defeat the Kraken. We’ll die here in the Deep, and the Kraken will still be laughing at us.

I was so stupid. I kept expecting other people to rescue me. The whale, or Faro, or Conor. But it’s not going to happen.

“Let’s have another game of hide-and-seek.” The Kraken giggles, and then he skips to a vanishing point. He’s gone, but I know he’s not really gone. This is just a breathing space.

I’ve got to think faster than this. I’ve got to shake off the clinging tendrils of lairlight that still slow me down. No one’s going to help us. We’ve got to help ourselves. We’ve got nothing else.

I thought I’d got rid of the lairlight, but it’s still in my head. It wants me to give up. I’ve got to force it away, and then maybe I’ll think of a plan.

I make a huge effort. I remember diving through water the color of jasper. I remember dolphin voices. And Saldowr smiling at me, saying,
You did well,
myrgh kerenza. Those things are real.

My mind clears like a landscape under a sweep of sun. And I see it. The mirror.

“Conor! The mirror! We forgot about the mirror.”

A jellyfish tentacle sweeps across my face, and I cry out. The next moment I see a claw, clacking its way toward me through the lairlight.

“Conor!”

“Quick,” mutters Conor, fumbling with the strapping that holds the mirror. “Saph, help me.”

Conor pulls at the kelp to release the mirror. His fingers fumble like lead sausages, struggling against the slowness of the Deep. I tug and tear with him, breaking
my nails on the tough kelp stem. The mirror’s metal back appears, then its handle. I grab it and pull the mirror free of the strapping. Down here in the Deep the mirror has grown ten times heavier. I can barely lift it.