Song of the Deep (6 page)

“I wish I could hug you,” I say.

Somehow I think he understands.

9

SKELETON REEF

S
wish and
I continue to sail west. He seems to be enjoying the adventure, but part of me
fears that he may turn around and leave at any moment. After all, he doesn’t
know where we are going or why. To him this probably just feels like some sort
of game. Or is it possible that he can sense the truth? Maybe he wants to help
me get safely to my destination.

In the distance I can see huge jagged shadows jutting up above the
horizon.

“Is that Skeleton Reef?” I ask Swish. He senses the excitement on
my face and races off in front of me to scout ahead. I stare out at the sharply
angled shadows in the distance, wondering how the reef earned its name.

As we sail closer, I feel a knot in my stomach. I’m excited by the
hope of finding my father and at the same time I’m frightened of what I might
find instead. I remind myself over and over: If I can survive this long below
the waves, so can he.

Swish is swimming in circles, chasing a school of silvery fish.
The fish group into a ball, exploding apart as Swish dives through the center,
then balling up again after he passes by.

“Let’s go, Swish. Leave the poor fish alone,” I call to him. And
then, in a flash, the fish disappear down through the seafloor, and Swish dives
down after them, vanishing before my eyes.

I sail up to the spot where he disappeared. At first it seems that
he just dove straight down into the sand of the seafloor, but as I look closer
I see that there’s a thin layer of sand covering what looks like a sheet of
fabric. Only it’s not fabric . . . it’s webbing. It’s a trapdoor entrance
covered with a thick spiderweb.

“Come on, Swish. Come out,” I plead.

There is no sound from the trapdoor. I wait, expecting Swish to
pop back out at any second. I look toward the shadows of Skeleton Reef, then
back to the camouflaged webbing. I know I can’t just leave Swish down there.

I gather speed and dive through the web.

It’s nearly pitch black down below. As my eyes adjust to the
darkness, I see faint glows of spiny blue moon urchins along the walls. I’m
inside some kind of cave. I sweep my sunstar’s light through the cloudy water,
looking for any sign of Swish. The walls are covered in what looks like layers
upon layers of spiderwebs.

I sweep my light downward and let out a scream at what it
illuminates. The bottom of the cave is covered from wall to wall in a giant
web. At the center of the web is an impossibly big black spider. Its body must
be more than ten feet across. Long segmented black legs are tumbling a thick
webbed cocoon around with a flurry of precise movements.

I am frozen with fear as I stare down at the hideous creature. My
breath is coming in short ragged gasps. I’ve never liked spiders. Even little
ones scare me. My arms go rigid and my hands tremble uncontrollably.

I remember an old story of my
father’s, about the Watcher. He only ever told it once, years ago—it scared me
so much that he never brought it up again. He said the Watcher is a giant
diving bell spider that feeds on creatures of the deep. A shiny bubble of air
around its abdomen allows it to breathe as it waits beneath the seafloor,
devouring any unsuspecting soul that enters its lair. It has lived for ages, my
father said, and will likely live for ages more.

I stare down at it in horror, wondering how many living things
have met their end here.

The Watcher stops wrapping the cocoon and turns its head up toward
me, its eight black eyes shining in the ray of light from my submarine. The
cocoon wiggles back and forth, and through a small gap in the webbing I can see
a patch of green scales. It’s Swish!

I forget my fear. Without even thinking, I flip the sub over, pop
out of the hatch, and swim toward the giant spider. In a flash, it releases the
cocoon and grabs me by the waist, pulling me toward its mouth. Its sharp black
fangs are closing down on me. I grab onto one of the fangs with both hands and
twist it sideways with all my strength. It snaps in half. The Watcher loosens
its grip just enough for me to slip out of its claws and swim down underneath
its belly.

I pull the coral knife from my belt and thrust it as hard as I can
into the glistening bubble of air around the Watcher’s abdomen. The bubble
bursts like a giant balloon, sending thousands of smaller bubbles rushing up
toward the ceiling of the cave. The Watcher frantically flails its legs, trying
to move toward the surface, but its heavy body sinks down into its own web. It
writhes in the web, becoming more tangled as it thrashes.

I swim to the cocoon, cutting it free and releasing Swish. He
darts up out of the silk webbing and out of sight, above me.

I slide back through the sub’s hatch, taking a huge, relieved
breath of air. A little bit of water got into the sub when I went out, but it’s
not too bad. I sail back up out of the cave, and Swish is waiting there for me.

My heart is still pounding in my chest as I look at Swish. He’s
waggling his tail back and forth hesitantly. He thinks I’m mad at him.

“Come on, boy.” I smile.

He swims close by my side toward the jagged shadows of Skeleton
Reef.

******

T
he
shadows on the horizon grow larger and more distinct. I’m starting to see
individual shapes within them. Tall thin shadows stick up out of larger ghostly
black masses. If that’s a reef up ahead, it’s unlike any I’ve ever seen before.

I look at Swish, realizing what we are seeing.

“It’s a graveyard of ships,” I whisper. The tangled wreckage
stretches on as far as I can see. Broken hulls and battered masts are piled on
top of one another in all directions. All different sizes and types of ships
lie jumbled together on the seafloor.

I sail over the
barnacle-encrusted remains of an old wooden freighter. Could the Fomori
sentinels have done this? Or did something else bring these ships down? I
recall the dream I had of the great tentacle arm pulling my father’s boat
underneath the waves.

I drift over the hills of wreckage, searching for any sign of my
father’s tiny boat.

In the distance I see the sweeping lights of Fomori sentinels.
They must be searching the wreckage too. One of them sails toward me, its light
still aimed downward at the wreckage below.

I turn toward Swish and hold my finger to my lips. As long as we
stay away from the searchlight, I don’t think it will notice us. I watch as its
thin metal arm reaches into the wreckage of a ship. The claw snaps up an old
wooden shipping crate, crushing it into pieces. The sentinel must be looking
for valuables in the wreckage.

I carefully follow along behind the gliding vessel. If my father’s
boat is down here, the sentinel might lead me to it. Swish swims alongside me,
glancing toward me protectively every few seconds.

Then I see it.

My father’s boat is pointing nosedown in the wreckage, a gaping
hole in its port bow. The sentinel reaches its claw arm inside the boat, but it
comes back empty. I watch its searchlight pass over the boat and into the
darkness beyond.

Checking that there are no other sentinels nearby, I flip the sub
over once again and swim out the hatch and down to the boat. I squeeze in
through the hole in the bow and swim inside. There’s a pocket of air trapped at
the back. I swim up into it and take a breath. The faint light from my sub
shines in through a porthole window.

My father isn’t here. But he must have had air, at least for a
little while.

I look around the hollow hull of the boat, hoping to find some
clue about what happened to him. Then I see something wedged between two
boards—his journal.

The journal is a little wet,
but I can still read what’s on the pages. It’s filled with my father’s notes
about fish migration patterns. He’s drawn maps showing his routes at sea. He’s
sketched a little fish at the locations where he was successful, and an X in
the places where there were no fish. As I flip through the pages, I see that
there are fewer and fewer l
ocations marked with a fish. By the end of
the journal, the maps are completely covered with Xs.

I flip past the last page and see my father has written a note.
It’s
written to me
.

Did he write this after the boat sank? My heart races as I read
it:

I close my eyes as tightly as I can. Tears roll down my cheeks. I
don’t want pretty dresses or paints. All I want is to open my eyes and see my
father again.

My eyes open slowly. I’m alone in the darkness.

I tuck the journal under my arm and swim back out of the boat and
through my submarine’s hatch. My father didn’t give up. He was trying to reach
the surface. I look at the darkness of the water above me. How far is it to the
surface? Could he have made it?

Swish peers in at me through the window. He knows I’m sad and
doesn’t know what to do.

“It’s okay, Swish. We’re not giving up. We’re going to find him.”
I put my hand up to the window. He rubs his head against the glass next to my
hand.

My eyes refocus toward the distance as an enormous silhouette
glides over the jagged wreckage. Long flowing tentacles trail behind the
fast-moving shadow. The searchlights of the Fomori sentinels turn and follow
the shadow eastward out of the reef.

Could that be the creature that is sinking the ships? The
sentinels followed it, but they didn’t attack. Maybe they are tracking it. Or
maybe it’s the other way around—is it possible that creature is actually the
one controlling the sentinels?

 A voice from behind me startles me out of my musings.

“I see you’ve made a friend.” The merrow maiden swims up to my
window and strokes Swish’s head. He wiggles his tail happily. She turns back
toward me. “Did you find your father’s boat?”

“Yes, but he’s gone.”

“Good,” she says. When she sees the hurt look on my face, she
adds, “There wouldn’t have been enough air for him to survive. If he’s not in
the boat, then there’s hope that he’s okay.”

“Oh,” I say, embarrassed that I misunderstood her intent. “But how
do I find him now?”

“There is a strong current
that runs through the reef. It was once used by the early Fomori explorers. It
passes directly above us. If your father tried to make it to the surface, he
may have been caught in it.”

“Where does it lead?”

“Somewhere I cannot go, I’m afraid.” I think this over, uneasy at
the thought of using a Fomori pathway alone. “Follow me and I’ll show you the current,”
says the merrow as she swims up above the wreckage.

“Do you know what sunk these ships?” I ask. She doesn’t seem to
hear me. Or maybe that’s a conversation we don’t have time for right now.

“Here is the current,” she says, pointing to a powerful flow of
water that courses, nearly invisibly, through the wreckage of the reef. “You
should hurry. I will tell you all you want to know the next time we meet.”

I see the light of a Fomori sentinel approaching us. I hesitate.
If it sees me enter the current it will be able to follow me, and I may have no
way to escape. But the merrow is already one step ahead of me.

“You have to go,” she says firmly. She swims toward the sentinel’s
light, distracting it away from me. I see it turn toward her as she dives into
the wreckage to hide. I wait a moment longer, unsure what to do.

It’s now or never. I sail into the current.

I feel a sudden, powerful tug and the world around me becomes a
blur.