Song of the Deep (9 page)

Swish swims back toward me as the last metal scraps of the deadly
sentinel drift harmlessly down to the seafloor. I wrap my arms around his neck
in a hug. He licks my face with his giant scratchy tongue.

I’ve made up my mind now. I have to try to make it to the
Forbidden City to stop the sentinels. I can only hope my father made it there
safely as well, and we’ll be reunited there.

Back in the cave, Cara has her body curled around the eggs, trying
to protect them. The seahorse is floating at the entrance, standing guard. He
must have known that he would have been torn to shreds by the sentinel, but he
stayed there anyway.

“You’re very brave,” I tell him. He lowers his head a little bit.
“I can see why Cara cares so deeply for you.” It may have been my imagination,
but for a moment I thought the light inside him glowed a little bit brighter.

I swim to a thick patch of kelp and cut the longest strands I can,
hanging them over the cave entrance to camouflage it. Then I search through the
coral and bring back twelve more scallops, laying them down at the floor of the
cave. Through the kelp, I call softly to Cara.

“I’m going to try to reach the Forbidden City now.”

“No! I can’t let you . . .” Cara’s voice sounds weak and frail.

“If you lead me to the entrance of the impassable lands, I may die
along the way. But if you don’t, I will definitely die in search of it,” I say.
She is quiet. Her face looks grave, but I can see some of the color has come
back. I think she’s going to be okay. She lifts her head and turns toward the
seahorse. Without words, she has said something to him. He swims through
curtains of kelp, and points his nose toward the south. He’s going to lead me.
Cara’s voice is so soft now I can barely hear her.

“You’re going to find him, Merryn. I can see it.”

I feel a lump in my throat as I wave good-bye to her through the
kelp.

Swimming back to my sub, I climb through the hatch and turn toward
the south. The seahorse leads us out of the Seagarden and over the rolling
sandy dunes of the seabed. He stops above a wide rocky fissure in the ground.
The fissure leads down into absolute darkness.

“Thank you,” I say to the seahorse. “I know Cara will be safe with
you at her side.” He bows his head to me and swims back the way we came.

I turn to Swish. He waves his tail back and forth excitedly, ready
for more adventure.

“I’m sorry, Swish,” I say. “I have to do this part alone.” He
follows alongside me as I sail toward the fissure. I turn back and force myself
to use a harsher tone. “Stay! Stay here, Swish. It’s too dangerous in there.”
He makes a whimpering sound and looks at me with big doleful eyes. “No,” I tell
him firmly. He whimpers again.

I’m trying to make my voice strong and commanding, but it’s taking
everything I have to keep from crying. Swish has been my source of comfort and
companionship down here, and it pains me to have to say good-bye. I know he
just wants to help me, but I would never forgive myself if something happened
to him in there.

I flip the sub, open the hatch, and swim out, giving him one last
hug.

“Once I find my father, I’ll come back and we’ll play tag all day
long,” I whisper, hoping he doesn’t notice that my voice is trembling. “I
promise.”

I climb back into the sub. The last things I see are Swish’s big
yellow eyes watching me pleadingly as I descend into the darkness.

12

THE IMPASSABLE LANDS

T
he fissure
extends downward, hundreds of feet below the seafloor. The gap between the wide
smooth rock walls grows even wider, and at last I see a glow below me. I
navigate down below the fissure and into a long cavern where the floor bubbles
with orange molten rock.

The cavern stretches on endlessly. Plumes of boiling liquid rock
erupt like fountains from the floor, lighting up the rocky walls. These are the
magma storms, the first of the impassable lands. I remember the name from one
of my father’s songs. We used to pretend that the floor of my bedroom was
covered in hot magma, and I would leap from pillow to pillow to make it to
safety. I’d close my eyes and imagine the lavafalls pouring down all around me.
It seemed like such a fantastical and beautiful place. But now, as I stare out
at the fiery gauntlet ahead of me, I feel nothing but dread.

I imagine my father, somewhere on the other side of the impassable
lands.

For a moment I see him. His hat is gone, his eyes are wide, and
his dark hair waves in the water. Something is pulling him down, deeper and
deeper. His arms are reaching out. He’s grasping
for something . . . it looks like a glowing yellow balloon . . . and then the
vision is gone.

At first I think that my mind is just playing tricks on me,
envisioning my greatest fears. But somehow I know my father still needs my
help.

I sail forward into the cavern. Searing jets of magma shoot up in
front of me, spreading out into sprays of molten red globules that rain down
from the ceiling. I dodge to the left, then down, then back to the right, to
avoid the glowing balls of magma that billow up all around me. Speeding
forward, I narrowly avoid a hail of burning rock as a chunk of ceiling breaks
apart and splashes into the river of fire below.

Streams of burning rock pour down from above me like bright orange
waterfalls, boiling the water all around them. The walls of my sub are burning
hot. Scalding sprays of water shoot through the seams in the sub’s exterior,
stinging my arms and face. My hands are blistering. The handlebars feel like
they’ve been inside an oven. Sweat is pouring down from my hair and into my
eyes so I can barely see. My sub is starting to tear apart at the seams.

I dive down toward the floor as a great fountain of lava arcs
across the entire cavern. There’s a tiny gap between the boiling floor and the
falling sheet of molten rock; I race the sub toward it. I feel a blast of
searing heat as I shoot through the gap. The lava crashes down like an
avalanche behind me.

My submarine is knocked sideways by the blast of boiling water.
The world is a blur of raining fire as I spin around out of control. When I
finally stop spinning, I am facing backward, looking out at the raging fiery
storm. Below me, the floor is dark solid rock. The scalding sprays of water
have stopped.

I’m on the other side of the magma storms.

The cavern widens and slopes downward. There is no light except
for the yellow beam from the front of my sub. The cavern’s silence and
stillness is unsettling—I know there must be danger nearby, but I have no idea
what it is.

The ground ahead of me is jagged and white, a stark contrast to
the dark rock of the cavern walls. I move forward cautiously, and then stare in
horror as I realize what I am seeing.

The floor is a giant pit of bones. Enormous bleached-white bones,
bigger than any I have ever seen. They look like the skeletons of legendary
serpents, some more than a hundred feet long.
These are the bones of
leviathans
.

I stop pedaling and look out across the vast empty cavern. There
is no hint of movement.

I shudder to think of what could have killed this many leviathans.
And is it still lurking silently in the darkness ahead of me?

My eyes begin to adjust to the darkness. The vault of bones
stretches out in front of me like barren white desert, daring me to cross it. I
feel a strange pang of sorrow as I think of the great majestic creatures that
died here. What brought them all to this one place? My father once told me that
the leviathan breeding grounds lay beyond the magma storms—they could make it
through the bursts of lava because their armored scales are impervious to heat.
Are these the remains of entire generations of leviathans? I think back to
Swish’s eyes as I left him behind, all alone in the sea. Is he the last of his
kind, just like the merrow?

I’m about to push forward when something catches my eye. There is
a faint white beam of light cutting diagonally through the water right in front
of me. It’s barely wider than a blade of grass and so faint that it is nearly
impossible to see. It’s only because my eyes have had time to adjust that I can
see it at all.

At first I want to sail toward it to get a better look, but the
eerie silence of the cavern has made me wary. After flipping the sub over, I
pop out of the hatch and swim upward alongside the hair-like beam of light,
careful not to touch it. As I reach the rough rocky wall of the cavern, I can
see that the light is coming through a tiny slit in the rock. Carefully
swimming along the wall, I discover more beams. The wall is covered in dozens
of holes, and the whole cavern is filled with these nearly invisible
crisscrossing beams of light.

Above me, mounted into the
ceiling, is a row of three mechanical turrets, their heavy golden barrels
slowly swiveling back and forth as if tacking invisible targets on the water
below. The Fomori must have put them here to ensure that the leviathans never
returned. But if they are powerful enough to kill a leviathan, I’ll stand no
chance against them at all.

My submarine is too big to fit through the web of light beams, but
I wonder if it is fast enough to outrun the turret shots. I pry a loose rock
from the wall and throw it as far as I can into the cavern. I watch as it arcs
through the water, intersecting one of the tiny beams. Faster than I can snap my
fingers, all three turrets whip their cannons toward the rock and fire a volley
of white-hot balls of light in the direction of the rock. The projectiles
streak across the cavern and slam into the wall with a thunderous impact that
leaves my ears ringing. A gaping two-foot-deep crater marks the point of
impact.

No, I don’t think I can outrun them. But I have another idea.

I swim up toward the ceiling, carefully weaving between the
threads of light, toward the first of the turrets. It has the signature golden
clockwork design of the Fomori. The shiny turret barrel rotates inside a sturdy
trapezoid-shaped gold frame filled with intricately ticking gears and sliding
levers. I look over each moving part, carefully examining how each gear, axle,
and lever are connected. It’s a truly impressive piece of machinery, but it has
one glaring weakness. There are two large powerful gears connected by a single
small one. The small one is attached to an axle with a tiny screw.

With the tip of my coral knife, I loosen the screw and pull out
the tiny gear. The two large gears slide together, grinding against each other
as they try to pull in opposite directions. There is a loud groan of twisting
metal as the axles bend and the gears tear through though the turret’s housing.
With a loud
clang
, the whole turret flies apart, sending the gears,
levers, and turret barrel tumbling toward the bed of bones below.

I move on to the next two turrets, carefully dismantling them. I
search the whole ceiling of the cavern to make sure I haven’t missed any, then
pry another rock from the wall. I throw the rock deep into the center of the
cavern and watch it fall quietly down until it disappears behind the ribs of a
leviathan skeleton.

Now that I’ve cleared the path of danger, I climb back into the
sub and sail forward through the cavern.

That was two impassable lands
, I think, as the last of the
bones disappear beneath me.

The cavern continues on, wide and straight, with no apparent
danger in sight. I pass by dark mouths of caves that lead into winding tunnels.
I imagine each tunnel enters a different undiscovered world. In different
circumstances, I’d be tempted to follow one, just for a little bit, to see how
far it goes.

A long and piercing howl emanates from a cave ahead of me and
echoes through the walls of the cavern. A giant eel emerges from that
direction, swims across the cavern, and disappears into a tunnel on the other
side. It seemed to pay no attention to me at all. Somehow this unsettles me
more than if the eel had attacked. It’s terrifying to think that some
unspeakable danger is lurking nearby, and I have no idea what it is.

Just as I am beginning to
wonder if the final impassable land was just a myth, I sail out of the cavern
and find myself in endless open water. There is no ceiling and no floor.
Vertical rock walls enclose the seemingly bottomless span, forming a giant
pillar of water. Peering down into the darkness, I feel like the jaws of a
giant beast are rising up to swallow me.

Jutting out from cylindrical
walls are golden metal struts. They form a connected lattice like the framework
of a bridge. Based on their size and the number of struts, they must be
supporting something truly massive. Is the Forbidden City right above me?

As I sail upward through the lattice of golden struts, my feelings
of anticipation and excitement vanish in an instant. The white beams of Fomori
sentinels sweep through the water above me. Hiding out of sight, I count the
beams. When I get to thirteen I stop counting. I’d be lucky to make it past a single
sentinel. Getting past more than thirteen will take much more than luck.

One of the sentinels dives down
toward me, its beam sweeping through the water. It’s too dangerous to wait
here. I sail back down to the cavern to think.

And then I see a brief glimpse
of something orange disappearing into the mouth of a cave below me. I sail
closer, out of curiosity, but there’s only a pile of metal scraps and assorted
junk, tied up with rope. Among the junk are a cracked clay vase, a tattered
sailor’s hat, and the broken claw of a Fomori sentinel. I pause for a moment,
wondering who would have bothered collecting miscellaneous junk from the sea
and why they would leave it down here. Then I look closer at the hat. It looks
just like mine, except the anchor is tilted sideways so that it looks like an
E
.
E for Eirnin.
It’s my father’s hat
.

I flip the sub and swim out the hatch to grab the hat, but the
whole bundle of scraps suddenly lurches away from me. An orange claw snaps in
front of my face, nearly pinching my nose. In front of me is the biggest hermit
crab I have ever seen. His body is the size of a large dog and his claws look
powerful enough to snap me in half. Shiny black eyes poke out on long orange
eyestalks from beneath the pile of scraps he carries on his back. He snaps his
claws at me two more times, warning me to back off from his collection of
treasures.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him sincerely. “I didn’t see you. So you
collect treasures too?” He snaps his claw at my hand, trying to keep me away. I
look at my father’s hat, tied up among the rusted gears and odd-looking metal
scraps. It makes me happy to know that he made it here. I hold out hope that
he’s in the Forbidden City already.

The crab is watching me intently, sidling back and forth in the
mouth of the tunnel. He must think he looks scary, but to me he’s kind of cute.
I look up at his bundle of scraps, wondering where he managed to find all those
things. An idea pops into my head—a way to get past the sentinels.

“Would you be willing to make a trade?” I ask the hermit crab,
pulling one of the gold coins out of my pocket and holding it up. His eyes
fixate on it immediately. “It’s pretty, isn’t it? Much prettier than all those
old rusty scraps, right?” He slowly reaches out his claw toward the coin, but I
pull it back. “No, no, no, I said
trade
. You have to give me something
in return.”

The crab lowers the bundle and scuttles two steps back, offering
to let me pick whatever I want. I set the coin down in front of him and he eyes
it greedily, tapping it with his claw as if he wants to make sure it’s real.

“I just need a few things, if
that’s okay,” I tell him. I pick up the broken sentinel claw, a couple of
gears, and a few odd but potentially useful scraps of metal. “Will you trade
the coin for these?” I ask. “You can keep my father’s hat. I think he would
understand, and he’d be grateful that you helped me.”

The crab looks at the items I have selected, then back at the
shiny coin, then finally at me. He picks up the coin and quickly backs away
from me, afraid I might change my mind and snatch it back.

“It’s all yours,” I assure him. I swim back to the sub, holding my
newly bartered treasures tightly in one arm. “Thank you for your help!” I call
to the crab as I duck inside the hatch.

Inside the sub, I pick up my tools and set to work. I have a plan.
It’s risky and dangerous and maybe even downright crazy, but it’s a plan.