The Tree of Water (20 page)

The blinding light dimmed to a blue glow. It hovered hauntingly in the water around them, casting ghostly shadows at the edge of their vision.

Amariel's strong hands seized Ven's waist. She swam around behind him and pushed him forward, like a giant Nain-shaped lantern, scanning the ocean floor.

A few moments later, she stopped.

“Here,” she said.

Ven held the air stone in his clutched fist up a little higher.

Then he gasped.

At first it appeared as if they were in a giant broken cage the size of an immense building. Large curved bars in lines on both sides of them reached up toward the surface, black and pointed like enormous fence posts. It looked as if they had been neatly planted in the sandy white floor of the sea.

Except they were attached to a long knobby road that Ven could tell almost immediately was a spine.

A spine they were almost standing on.

A spine that was longer than the widest wing of the Crossroads Inn.

He could feel Char trembling beside him, and turned to see his best friend staring at an upside-down skull, bigger than a wagon, partly buried in the quietly shifting sands.

“What—what is this?” he asked Amariel.

The merrow was scanning the water above them.

“Whale skeleton,” she said. “Probably a blue whale—I've never seen a humpback this big. Put the light away—
now
.”

Ven obeyed quickly.

Once the stone was buttoned safely back in his pocket, the ocean turned a murky black. Ven felt Amariel's hand leave his shoulder and grip his own once again. She led him down to the ocean floor, where the knobby spine looked like a great line of barrels set up top to bottom on their sides, buried in the sand.

“Settle in,” her thoughts murmured in his ears. “I feel serious thrum around here now. We need to take cover quickly and smoothly so as to not attract attention.” Ven could tell that Coreon and Char had heard her as well, because as soon as she had spoken they began digging into the curves of the whale bones, trying to find shelter.

It's just like a big shipwreck,
he thought as he blindly patted the sand near the spine.
Whatever living creature it belonged to is long gone. Try not to panic.

“Stop thinking, Ven,” Coreon whispered. “Sleep if you can—your thrum is way too loud.”

“And stop being such a baby.” Amariel's undersea voice sounded annoyed. “I always thought you were pretty brave. If I had known you got afraid so easily, I would never have taken you into the Deep. There's nothing scary about old bones, Ven. What you need to fear is swimming nearer to us now. You really have your priorities mixed up. Calm down. You too, Chum. You're making my scales itch.”

“Try breathing slowly and quietly,” Coreon advised. “Works for me.”

Ven shifted his shoulders, trying to settle into the bony hollow. The sand on the bottom of the ocean floor skittered around him, but he had almost gotten used to that.

The heavy drift settled on him, almost like a blanket falling upon his head and shoulders. The air from the elemental stone filled his nose and lungs, still absent of smell.

Ven looked to his right. The merrow had found a comfortable spot and was gently covering herself with sand, using her tail as a whisk broom. To his left, Coreon and Char had dug in and were lying still. The whites of Char's eyes, and the greens of Coreon's, were the only parts of his friends he could see in the dark.

Morning can't come soon enough,
he thought.

In his head, he could hear the others agree.

Now that he was still and quiet, the swishing sound of the open sea returned. The music was still there, but it was no longer far off and merry. The strange thrum he had been hearing in the distance since entering the water was very much louder now, but other sounds seemed closer. In addition to the buzzing vibrations, he felt a sort of pressure, almost as if he could sense the weight of the creatures in the water as well as their thrum.

By the intensity of the pressure, the creatures seemed large.

Like a coming storm, Amariel said,
he thought.
This must be what she meant.

“Shhhh,” the merrow whispered. “Stop thinking so much.”

Ven lay back and opened his eyes as wide as he could. The surface was much too far away to be seen, but a vague, hazy light hung in the water in one place. He guessed that the moon had risen since they had been to the top of the waves to eat and drink.

A long shadow swam across that hazy light, blotting it out for a moment, then swam on. Ven could feel its thrum pass with it, like the ticking of a clock.

He let his breath out slowly.

Shark. Big shark.

Maybe one of Amariel's friends,
he thought. He could hear Coreon's words in his memory.

Even if one comes into view, it doesn't mean it's hunting. The best thing to do is not to panic. Panic makes your heart beat louder, and creatures tend to jerk in fear. Those sort of vibrations can catch the interest of a perfectly harmless predator that was otherwise minding his own business.

A second shadow, then another, crossed into and out of the hazy light.

Like kites,
Ven thought.

When I was little, really little, one spring my father took me on my first and pretty much only trip outside the seaside city of Vaarn where I was born. Strange as it is for Nain to live in the upworld in cities, the place my father brought me was even stranger. We rode in a giant wagon drawn by eight horses, out into the forest lands, to buy timber to build our ships.

The countryside was alien to me, almost as if my father had taken me to the moon. There were more trees in a quarter-mile's travel than in all of Vaarn, and my eyes stung from looking at all the fresh greenery. In addition, my nose was on fire with the fresh scents of pine and hickory, and sweet air that was not clogged with factory smoke or the salty smell of the sea.

I was being trained on that trip to work in the factory, even though I was too young to know it then. My father wanted me to watch his meetings with the lumberjacks and foresters, to see how a good businessman conducted himself, to even learn a few tricks of the trade.

But my curiosity was drawn instead to the kites.

At the forest's edge, where the children of the lumberjacks lived, was a meadow. It was a little muddy, because the snow had just melted. The grass was pale green, and the wind was high and strong.

So the children of the foresters were flying kites.

I had never seen a kite before. In Vaarn the buildings are very close together, the streets are cobbled, and there isn't much room to play with something like that. So I peeked out of the wagon and watched, fascinated, as the forest children worked in pairs to put these toys made of wooden frames and colorful paper, tied with string, into the air. After a few tries, the entire sky was filled with dancing kites, spinning in different directions at the whim of the wind.

It was the first time I remember seeing magic hiding in plain sight.

One of the forest children saw me watching, and invited me to come and play. When my father nodded, I climbed out of the wagon and went over to the middle of the field. The children were all human, and I could tell, even as young as I was, that they found me interesting, but there was none of the threat that someone who is different can sometimes feel. One tall red-haired boy let me hold his kite string, but he had to keep a hand on it, because even with his strength, the wind pulled me off the ground a little bit. I decided then it was a better idea to follow the example of some of the other kids, and lie down on my back to watch the kite dance.

I don't know how long I lay there, but too soon my father came to collect me, dragging me off of the green spring grass by my collar.

“Your coat and the back of your trousers are filthy, Ven,” he said. “What do you think your mother will say?”

I knew the answer, and began to tremble.

Then I looked in his eyes, and noted that he was as scared as I was.

Then we both laughed.

Everyone I know is afraid of my mother.

So now I am lying on the sandy floor of the Sea Desert, on the spine of a long-dead blue whale, in the middle of a broken cage of bones, staring up at large shadows swimming above me. I am aware of the danger each of them poses.

But for some reason, all I can think of when I see them is kites.

His cheek bu
zzed.

Ven held his head still, but looked to his left side.

A shark was swimming past within the cage of bones a few feet away. Its thrum was steady, but the pressure from its wake made Ven instantly aware of its strength and power. He tried not to tremble.

Kites,
he thought.
Kites.

The beast was beside him now. He could feel the menace in the dark, the slap of its tail through the drift, the long muscle of its body.

Kites. Kites. Kites.

He lay there, still as he could, until the shark swam past and out of the cage of bones.

He let out the breath he did not even realize he had been holding.

A webbed hand reached into his.

“Sleep, Ven,” Amariel whispered. “Please—for all our sakes. It's all your thinking that made him come down here to see what was going on.”

Ven swallowed, then closed his eyes. Thrum was spinning all around him, but it was high above, and slow. He thought about home, about his family, and how they could never imagine what he was doing at this very moment.
I shall have to tell you all the tale one day,
he thought.

With that promise came sleep.

Dreams came quickly. In them he was back in beautiful forests of kelp, staring at the giant stump that had filled the pathway near Spicegar's lair.

You want to know where Frothta lived?
The tiny sea dragon's thrum echoed in his head.
Here is the spot. This is all that's left of her.

It seemed like only a few seconds later that the water turned gray-green again.

Ven opened his eyes.

He could see the bones of the whale skeleton quite plainly now, reaching hopelessly up toward the distant surface above them like curved, branchless trees. Within the broken cage of bones, small schools of fish passed by as close as the shark had been the night before.

No predators swam above them.

It's morning,
he thought.
We've made it through the night.

Beside him, the merrow stirred. Her webbed hand was still in his. He could hear Char's thoughts as he wakened as well.

“Mornin', Ven.”

Ven smiled as a school of fish swam past his face. “Good morning, everyone. It seems we've made it.”

Char yawned broadly, stretching his arms up into the drift. “Yep. Seems so.”

Coreon sat up quickly.

Between him and Char, the sand shot up in a storm, blasting them away from the spine.

As the floor of the sea began splitting open.

 

22

The Octopus's Garden

Before any of them could move, a swirl of eight sand-colored tentacles, each the length of a human man's leg, spun up from the ocean floor between the bones of the spine.

One reached out and seized a fish from the school going by.

Then the rest of the creature blasted up from the sand between Char and Coreon. Its bag-like head sucked in and out as the two boys clambered away. The fish in its grasp wriggled, then went limp with a soft
pop
as the octopus swam off into the murky green outside the cage of whale bones, leaving a thin trail of black ink.

“That's odd,” Amariel noted as the three boys hovered above her in the drift, trembling. “Usually they prefer crabs.”

“Maybe there aren't too many crabs out this far,” said Coreon as he settled back down on the ocean floor. “This desert is pretty empty.”

Char up looked at the surface above, then gestured to Ven, who was treading water, trying to return to calm.

“You all right?”

Ven nodded.

“Well, don't look now, but there's something big coming.” Char pointed to the surface above Ven's head.

“Oh, crab,” Coreon said. “I hope that's not a another shark.”

Ven sank back down to the spine and looked where Char was pointing.

A vast shadow, longer than the blue whale's skeleton, was approaching. It slashed through the surface, splitting the waves into a great white swirl.

Ven broke into a wide smile.

“It's a ship!” he thought to the others. “Look—you can see the bowsprit, and the keel!”

Char swam down beside the others onto the sandy floor.

“Maybe we should try to catch a ride,” he suggested. “They could prolly take us quickly 'cross the desert to where the Summer Festival is so we can skip the whale bones tonight.”

Amariel looked at him disdainfully. “I sincerely hope you are joking,” she said.

“No, I'm not,” Char insisted. “C'mon, Ven, don't you think it's a good idea? We can swim up quickly, shout and wave. If there's a lookout in the crow's nest they may see us, pull us aboard, and—”

“You think that ship's crew is going to drop you off somewhere in the middle of the sea?” Amariel demanded. “First, for all you know, it's a pirate ship. They'd sell you into slavery or worse. Second, you can't get to the surface quickly enough for them to see you. Third, even if you could, and they're not pirates, if they pulled you aboard and you told them what you've been doing, they'd think you a loon and toss you in a nuthouse once you got back to land. Ships are full of
humans.
Don't you know by now that you can't trust them?”