Stormswept (23 page)

“Malin! How— How did you get there?”

“My arms are strong,” says Malin proudly. “All my strength is returning, Morveren. Look!” He points to the gash in his tail, and to my amazement it’s no longer a gash but an ugly ridge, a healing scar. “The live water is healing me,” he says.

“Are you strong enough to move tonight?”

“Tonight?” Instantly, his voice sharpens. “Why tonight?”

“There’s danger, Malin. Some people – some bad people— We think they know you are here.”

“Bad people?”
says Malin with devastating emphasis. “What are you saying to me, Morveren? Who has betrayed me?”

“No one’s betrayed you, it’s just—”

“Where there are humans, there is always betrayal,” says Malin.

Angry words leap to my lips. I want to deny it. We’re not all like that, I’ve done nothing but try to help you, I could have left you lying in that sand dune if I didn’t care about you… But I don’t say any of it, because he’s right. None of us meant to betray him, but we have done.

“My brother is missing,” I say rapidly. “Jenna’s gone to help search for him but as soon as he’s found she’ll come and help me move you to the sea.”

“And when do you expect these ‘bad people’?” asks Malin steadily, still with the same scorn.

“Not until the next low tide, when the causeway’s passable. That’s when they’ll come, if they come tonight.”

Malin looks up at the moon. “So when the tide falls, and human beings can walk across land that rightly belongs to Ingo, that’s when they’ll come.”

“I think so.”

Malin is silent. I scrabble desperately in my mind for any possible way of getting him down the rocks without help, but I know I can’t do it without causing him worse injuries than those he’s already had.

“I am strong tonight,” he says at last. “Not strong enough to reach the sea, but strong enough to fight. Sometimes your air is my enemy, but tonight it is my friend.”

“What do you mean?”

“I am the same as you, Morveren. Sometimes I can live in your element, just as you can live in mine. Tonight your air tastes good. It is wet and full of salt. But you must make me a weapon.”

“A weapon?”

“Isn’t that what you humans do best? Maybe you have a spear, or a knife? We know that you have weapons that cause death without a man ever touching another man. We have seen them.”

“I’m sorry, Malin. I haven’t got anything.”

“Then lift me the biggest stone you can find, and I will crush their brains in their skulls.”

“All right.”

I don’t tell him that Bran’s dad will come with companions, and dogs, and maybe even with guns, if the rumours are true. I scramble down the rocks again and search by starlight for loose stones. There’s a good-sized one half-buried in sand, and I gouge it out. It’s heavy, and sharp-edged where it must have split from a larger rock. It’s difficult to climb up again holding it, but I manage. Carefully balancing on the narrow ledge, I make my way round to Malin.

“Here you are.”

He takes the stone in his hands and weighs it. A strange smile curls his lips. “Thank you, Morveren,” he says. His thumb tests the sharp edge. “I am going against the laws of the Mer, but my people will forgive me.”

“I’ll come back. We’ll both come. We’ll free you before—”

“I know.”

I don’t want to leave him. “Malin, do you think you should get back into the pool? You’d be better hidden there.”

But he doesn’t hear me. His head is up, and his face turned to the sea. He puts his hand on my arm. “Listen, Morveren. Can you hear it?”

At first I can’t hear anything but the soughing of the wind and the noise of the sea. But then my ears pick out something else. The beat of a drum, a bodhran, fast and urgent as it strikes out the rhythm. And above it comes a thread of melody so sweet and strong that I know at once who is playing.

“Digory,” I breathe. But where is he? I can’t tell where the sound is coming from. It might be in the air, but I don’t think so. It’s as wild as the sound of breaking waves.

“The musicians of Ingo have found a new player,” says Malin, and now I understand.

“They wanted me to come in the sea with them
…
”

They wanted you, and you came. It’s happening to me now, Digory. They want me to come to them, where you are. Mum and Dad and Jenna are looking all round the village but they won’t find you there. Don’t be scared. I’m coming.

“You must go,” says Malin.

“I’m sorry.”

“Go now.”

I leave him there. I look back once but I can’t see him, because it’s too dark and his shape has melted into the bulk of the rock.

walk straight into the sea. To go into the sea on a cold night and alone is the most stupid thing you can ever do, but I close my mind to that and keep on wading, knee-deep, thigh-deep and then waist-deep until the waves lift me off my feet. I don’t struggle, but let the power of the sea take me where it wants. Deep inside me I am safe, and free. This is not the sea I’ve lived with all my life, and learned to love but never trust. This is another world, which was always there, but hidden.
Ingo.
The word echoes like a word spoken inside a seashell.

The clouds are thinning and the moon shines out more strongly, revealing the line of foam where the waves break, and the swell beyond. Wave after wave after wave, going on to the end of the world. I tread water, watching them, waiting for Ingo to tell me what I should do. Like a signal, a wave that is far bigger than all the rest rears up ahead. It hasn’t broken yet, but as I watch a line of white foam on its crest catches the moonlight and the wave begins to topple, gathering power as it rushes towards me. In a split second I make my decision and dive down, into the glistening body of the wave.

And then it happens. One moment I am Morveren Trevail, diving deep with no board, taking stupid risks with the night sea. The next I am in Ingo.

Water streams into me, salt and strong. I breathe it deep into my lungs and its mysterious spirit surges through me. I plunge forward, swimming with sure, powerful strokes, faster and faster. The sea pushes me on. Moonlight shines through the water and strikes on the pale sand far beneath me. The music that has been teasing my ears is growing clearer. I know that they are there, and close: the shadowy crowd of the Mer whom I saw last time when I met Eselda. I was frightened of them then, but I’m not afraid any more. All I can think about is finding Digory, and freeing Malin. I know, deep down, that the two things have to be connected. Maybe one can’t happen without the other.

The sea floor drops away into shadows. I am way out in the bay now, in deep water. Ghostly fish drift by in silver streams. I wonder where that seal is. Do seals sleep? My ears are full of the sea and the music of Ingo.

I am swimming so fast that the blurred distant shadows ahead of me harden into figures before I can blink. Then I see that they’re swimming too. Human arms and shoulders, strong seal tails. A Mer boy and a Mer girl, coming straight at me. There isn’t time to swerve, but just when I think we’ll crash, they stop dead in the water. Water surges and bubbles around them. Their long hair whips over their faces, then swirls clear.

“Dydh nos,” says the girl.

My mind curls around the words. They blow across its surface like foam blown off waves and then suddenly, there is a pattern. I know she’s greeting me. I hold out my hands, palms upward. The boy swims to me, holds out his own hands in the same way and then turns them and places them on mine, palm down. We don’t have to say anything. We all understand that I am not their enemy, even though I am human. Next, the girl reaches for my hand, tugs it lightly, and points into the distance, beckoning.

We swim side by side, the boy on my left and the girl on my right. Their tails barely seem to move, but their bodies cut through the water so fast that I’d be left behind if they didn’t help me. Each of them takes one of my wrists, and I’m drawn on effortlessly through the glistening, velvety-dark sea. There’s enough light to show where we’re going. The music is so loud now that it floods my head in the same way as the salt water floods my lungs.

Now we swim down and down, where moonlight can barely reach. The water shimmers with faint phosphorescence. We swerve sharply to avoid a Portuguese Man o’ War that swims towards us with outstretched tentacles, and, as we turn, a thick dark shadow looms ahead of us. For the first time, I’m afraid. The weight of the water presses down. I glance up and see how far I am from the air. If I needed to breathe, I don’t think I’d get back there in time. We’re so deep, much further underwater than I’ve ever been in my life. My heart pumps hard and the noise of my pounding blood almost drowns the music.

Stop it. Don’t panic. If you panic way down here, you’ll die.
My mouth fills with water. I gulp and choke and I know I’m not in Ingo any more. I tear my wrists loose from the Mer grasp. I’ve got to get out. I’ve got to swim up.

The girl won’t let me go. She grabs both my shoulders and turns me to face her. She’s incredibly strong and I can’t break free. She shakes me as if I’m having a nightmare.

“Anada! Anada!” she says urgently, and shakes me again. I try to fight free of her but I can’t. She’s holding me too tight. She’s drowning me.

“Anada!
Anada!”

The words fill my ears but make no sense. I want Jenna. Why did I ever leave her behind? I need her. Jenna,
Jenna!

She lets go of me, and then she and the Mer boy lock their arms through mine and suddenly, with incredible speed, we are hurtling to the surface. I see nothing and feel nothing but the rush of the water and the burning in my lungs. I’ve got to breathe. Just as my lungs are bursting they let go of me and I hit the surface, hard, as if diving from a height. I am thrust through it so violently that I’m lifted clear of the water, and then I plunge down again, flip on to my back, and breathe.

Cold night air. The coldest, sweetest air I’ve ever tasted. I lie back on the swell, exhausted and trembling. Relief floods through me. I’m back in my element, safe in the air. I’m not going to die.

I look around. The sea glistens with moonlight, but it is empty. No sign of the Mer boy and girl. No sign of life at all. I raise my head and look around. Everywhere the water stretches, wide and black. One half of the sky has blown clear of cloud and it is full of piercing stars. But where’s the land? I tread water, trying to raise myself above the swell so I can see into the distance. Even in my wetsuit I’m starting to feel cold. I wasn’t cold in Ingo, but I’m not in Ingo now. I’m far out on the night sea, alone. I kick hard, raise myself as far as I can, and catch a distant glimpse of lights. I’ve been out on Dad’s boat, night-fishing, and I know from the look of the shore that it must be six or seven kilometres away. I turn round in a circle, scanning in every direction, but there’s no other sign of light and I can’t work out in which direction the Mer have brought me.

I can’t swim that long distance to shore. If the Mer boy and girl were here they could help me, but they’ve disappeared. Maybe they can’t come above the surface… I’m on my own. Ever since Jenna and I were little we’ve had it drummed into us that we must not panic if a rip carries us out to sea.
Don’t ever try to swim against the current, because it will exhaust you. Go with it until it weakens and you can swim across it and then back to shore. If you’re on a life-guarded beach, hold up one arm as a signal for help
… I hear my own voice, laughing feebly. Some chance of that. I could hold up one arm all night and no one would see it. But I’m a strong swimmer, and people have survived long swims in the night sea if that’s their only hope. They’ve swum distances they never imagined possible. I’ve got to keep calm, not panic, and swim steadily towards those lights. And hope the wind doesn’t blow up, because it’s much harder to swim in a choppy sea. I’m cold, though, and sleepy too. Maybe I should rest for a bit before I set off. I’ll float on my back and shut my eyes, just for a moment – just… for a moment…

Something nudges me sharply in the side. I jerk back to consciousness, flailing at the water, and my hand brushes something that moves and is alive. I snatch it back in fear. The dark shape nudges me again and thoughts of sharks burst through my mind. My hair is all over my face and as I push it back to see clearly there he is: not a shark, not one of the Mer, but a seal. He looks familiar. He seems to know me too. He nudges me again, friendly but warning:
Don’t go back to sleep.
I’m sure he’s the seal who followed us from Marazance harbour back to the Island. It is so comforting to see him here. But just as I’m thinking this, the seal dives. His sleek back shows for an instant above the water, then vanishes. My heart plunges. I’m alone, truly alone. Even the seal won’t stay with me.