Stormswept (24 page)

The oily surface of the night sea breaks again, and there’s the seal, shaking his head until drops of water fly off his whiskers. I swim to him, so relieved that I nearly try to wrap my arms around him. He moves back from me as if he senses my intention, and his deep, shining eyes stare directly into mine as if he wants to tell me something. Again I have that sense of a current passing between us. What is it that he wants me to do? He comes close and nudges me again as if to say:
pay attention.
Then, in a graceful swirl, he dives and vanishes. Again he comes up, again he nudges me, again he dives. I feel so cold and tired and stupid. I can’t work it out. And then, suddenly, I know exactly what he’s trying to tell me. I can’t stay here on the surface. I must dive, like him. I’ve got to go back into Ingo.

I stare at the distant shore. The frail line of light appears for a moment, then vanishes as the swell lets me fall. Land is so far away. I will never be able to swim there. What am I going to do? If only Jenna were here. If I drown she’ll never know what happened. She’ll be devastated. They might never find my body. She’ll remember how we argued and I wanted her to help Malin and not search for Digory. She’ll think it’s all her fault, but it isn’t. If only I could speak to her – if only she could tell me what to do…

I reach out for her with all my strength.
Jenna, listen. Jenna, it’s me, Morveren. Tell me what to do.

The wind blows across the water, ruffling its surface. Clouds are gathering again.
Jenna, where are you?

That’s when I hear her. It’s not her voice exactly; it’s just Jenna, as close to me as she’s always been. I hear her thoughts as clearly as I used to hear them.

It’s all right, Mor. I’m here.

But Jen, what am I going to do?

There’s a pause, while the wind whistles softly in my ears, then I hear her voice, as firm and definite as if she were giving me the answers to our maths homework.

Go with the seal. Are you listening, Mor? Go with the seal.

If I stay here, I’ll drown. I can’t swim back to shore. I have to believe Jenna, and believe that Ingo is still there, waiting for me, and that I can breathe there. I have to trust Jenna, and the seal, and Ingo itself. I take a deep breath, the deepest I can, from the bottom of my lungs, and then I let it out again. There’s no point. Either I can survive in Ingo or I can’t. If I can’t, having a lungful of air will only make the pain go on for longer. The seal is very close to me now, as if he knows that I’ve understood and am ready to follow him.

“All right, let’s go,” I tell him, and instantly he dives, and I dive too, straight after him.

Water streams past my face. I daren’t open my eyes but I sense that the seal is close, making a passage for me. Now it’s time. I’ve got to believe. I open my mouth. A rush of bubbles fills it. My mouth and nose fill with water and it surges into my throat, my lungs, into every cell of my body. A wave of relief pours through me as my heart and breathing steady. I open my eyes and there is the seal ahead of me, and there, to his left, the familiar shapes of the Mer boy and girl who guided me through Ingo. They swim to me and the girl seizes me in her arms, embracing me as we dive together. The boy’s hand grips my other wrist. I feel so safe, so protected, so much at home. The Mer haven’t abandoned me – they were waiting all the time, beneath the surface.

We swim on. The seal swims ahead for a while, then he turns and nudges me one last time. I understand that he is saying goodbye. I slow down, and this time I dare to reach out and touch him.

“I’d be dead without you. I’ll never forget you.”

His intelligent brown eyes scan mine. Seals don’t smile except with the warmth and life in their eyes. It bathes me for a moment, and then he dives, and disappears.

We are coming to an underwater cliff. No, not a cliff exactly, because its shape is too regular. It’s the dark shadow that scared me so much before. A few moments later it’s clear that this is a wall, made by hands. I can see cut stone, and turrets, and windows. There to the side is another building, and another. Some are lower, some higher. There are spires and steep-pitched roofs, doorways, alleys, streets…

It’s a city. A whole city, under the sea. How did it get here? The Mer girl steers me towards a narrow entrance in the massive wall. It’s not wide enough for the three of us to pass together, so the Mer boy goes first, then me, and then the girl.

Now we are inside. It opens out, a city full of water and watery shadows. Beneath us there are cobbled streets, thick with weed. Ahead of us is a huge hall, more magnificent than any building I’ve ever seen. Its doorway is open wide. That’s where the music is coming from, thrumming even more sweetly and compulsively now that we’re close to it. There’s the deep boom of a drum, the lighter tattoo of bodhrans, the skirl of pipes and the mellow sweetness of flutes. Above them all a single violin rises, flying like a bird. Dread and elation seize me as the three of us glide to the entrance.

he moonlight should be weaker inside the hall, but it’s stronger. Then I see that this light isn’t coming from the moon, but from clusters of tiny lights hanging on the walls. I don’t quite know what they are. They move as if they’re alive. Everything is moving. There are hundreds of Mer people here, and they’re dancing to the music. I can’t see the musicians yet because they’re hidden by the crowds. I gaze at the high windows and a memory pulls at me, although I’m sure that I’ve never been here before. Why does it all seem so familiar? The crowds, the music, the magnificent hall, the high windows and the entrance behind me… I wish I could remember, but I can’t.

My companions have disappeared. I’m alone, and the only person not dancing. Everyone who passes glances at me curiously, but they don’t seem as surprised to see a human being as I’d have thought they would. It’s as if they’re saying to themselves,
“Ah, here she is at last. So this is what she looks like.”
No one bumps into me, or makes me feel that I’m in the way. They dance around me gracefully, making patterns that weave and wind, in and out, to the rhythm of the music. They wear wonderful cloaks of woven coloured seaweed which sway and ripple, fan out and then cling close to their bodies. And here I am in my dull black wetsuit, like someone who’s gone to a party in trackie bottoms and an old T-shirt. I’d like to dance too, but I don’t know whether or not I’m allowed. I should feel embarrassed at being out of place here, but I don’t. I feel as if I’m meant to be here.

At the same time, I’m angry with the dancers. What do they think they’re doing? Malin is missing from Ingo, and Digory is missing from the Island, but they don’t care. They carry on with their celebration. I want to stop the music and make them all listen.

“You are angry,” says a voice in my ear. It’s so like Malin’s voice that I almost expect to see him as I turn, even though I know Malin can’t possibly be here.

“My name is Venvyn. I think you know my son.”

He is heavy-set and there is grey in his long, tangled hair, but yes – his eyes are familiar. He could be Malin’s father. But is he really? I remember what the other Mer man said when I met him with Eselda, “Malin father far. Far from this place.”

“I have travelled with the dolphins,” he says, as if he understands my puzzlement at his being here. What this means I’m not quite sure – Venvyn makes it sound as if dolphins are some form of express travel for the Mer. Ridiculous images of dolphin traffic controllers surge through my mind… It’s weird how the more tense you are, the more you want to laugh.

“Come with me,” says Venvyn, pointing ahead of him into the crowd. Even though the dancers aren’t looking at him, they respond to an invisible command and part to make a passageway for us.

I don’t move. For the first time I can see the low stage at the end of the hall, and on it there are the musicians of Ingo. There are violinists, flautists, bodhran players, someone on the bagpipes and others playing instruments I don’t know, which look as if they are carved from shell. And there, in the middle of them, smaller than any of the other players, is my brother. His eyes are closed and his head thrown back. Conan’s fiddle is under his chin, and Conan’s bow is in his right hand.

“Digory!”

I’m not sure if I’ve spoken aloud or not, but nothing breaks Digory’s concentration. He looks completely at home, as if he’s in the village hall, rehearsing with Ynys Musyk. So many questions crowd into my mind that I don’t know which to ask first. How did Digory get here? Who brought him? Did he want to come or did they make him? How is it that a violin can be played underwater? Surely it’s impossible. But then the whole thing is impossible. I am in an underwater city, breathing water as easily as I breathe air, surrounded by the Mer, and the music I hear is being played by the musicians of Ingo.

All of it is impossible and yet none of it frightens me, or even feels strange. I feel… not exactly as if I belong here, but as if I’ve been here before. The music flashes and shimmers. I’ve heard Digory play so many times, back in the human world, and thought he was amazing, but I’ve never heard him play like this. My feet are itching to dance. And here’s a Mer boy gliding towards me, arms outstretched, ready to lead me into the swirl of the dancing.

But just as I’m about to move towards him, I catch a glance from Malin’s father. It’s a curious, judging look, as if he guesses what I’m about to do and doesn’t like it. My dreamlike confidence fades and I scull backwards, a little away from the dancers. The Mer boy hesitates, and then he moves away as well, towards another girl.

What am I doing?
Malin
. I’ve got to think about Malin. These are his people. I thought they’d be waiting just beyond the breaking waves, straining their eyes to see any signal that suggests he may be on his way home. But instead, here they are at a huge party, perfectly as ease, as if no one’s even missing, let alone injured and desperate and in danger…

I can’t judge them, I realise suddenly. I’m just the same. I’m here, not scouring the Island for my brother, even though I know how anguished Mum and Dad must be. I know how desperately Jenna will be searching for Digory, and yet I was about to lose myself in the dance and forget everything except the rhythm of the drums and the haunting sweetness of flutes and violins. Malin’s father is still watching me, but his expression has changed. Maybe he guesses at the thoughts which are going through my mind, because his harsh face softens.

“You have tried to help my son.”

“Yes. But why aren’t
you
helping him? He’s in terrible danger, and here they all are, look at them – they’re dancing.” I gesture at the dancers, who are whirling so fast now that they are half-hidden by clouds of foaming water.

“They must dance tonight,” he says seriously.

“But why? Don’t they care about Malin? I came to tell you that Malin’s in danger. He could be captured tonight. I think some men are on their way—”

Venvyn’s fists clench. “Do you think, my child, that we haven’t known from the first moment we lost him that he was in mortal danger? We know what a prize he would be in the human world. Every Mer child is taught this from the day he can understand. We learn to hide, to evade. We do not show ourselves. We know your people too well. But Malin forgot the lesson, and forgot the power of the storm. We have mourned him every moment since we lost him, because we know he cannot return to us. It has never happened. Eselda had hope after she talked to you, but that is because she is his mother. She does not understand your language or your ways, as I do. Tell me, my child. What do you think we can do to help my son?”

“Fight! You’ve got to fight them. I know you can’t go on land but surely you can get close. If you’re there when we try to help him back into the sea—”

Venvyn’s hand sweeps away my words. “Of course we will be there in an instant, if there is any hope of saving him. Do you think these dancers are thinking of anything but Malin? But the gulls tell us that there is no hope for him in your human world. He is in a prison of stone and soon he will be prisoned by humans. There is only one way my son can free himself, and that is by death. All the Mer know that. You mean well, but you are a child, and alone. You do not have the strength to carry out a rescue, and I see no sign of this sister whom you told Eselda was ready to help you. Look at us. We are strong, but the Air and the human world make us helpless. We feel the danger in every fibre of our bodies but we can do nothing.”