The Lost City of Faar

by D. J. MacHale

  What changed my thinking was something I saw just below the opening. It was partially hidden by a tangle of seaweed, but there was no missing it because it was about five feet across. It was an ancient carving. Some of the detail had been eroded away by time, but there was no mistaking the strange, interlocking letters. Spader saw it too and smiled at me. It was the symbol his father had left for him. It was the symbol of Faar. We were in the right place.

  With a glance and a nod to each other to show we were all prepared to go to the next step, the three of us swam together, shoulder to shoulder, into the light that blasted from the large opening.

  We found ourselves in an underwater tunnel that was big enough to drive a car through, if you happened to have a car that could drive underwater. We passed by the big lights that were shining out into the open sea. Once past them, my eyes adjusted to the dark and I saw that the tunnel led far back into the rock. Every few feet were small marker-lights that showed the way. That was a relief because I wasn’t so sure I would have had the guts to swim into a pitch-dark tunnel. I then heard a loud, scraping sound that made me quickly look back. The rock door was shutting behind us. A loud crunch told us the door was locked into place and we were closed in. Gulp. We had to go forward whether we liked it or not.

  “Everybody cool?” asked Uncle Press.

  “I guess,” was my shaky answer.

  Spader just floated there with wide eyes.

  “Spader, you okay?” Uncle Press asked.

  “Just a little nervous,” he answered.

  Good. I’m glad he said it first. Truth be told, nervous didn’t quite cover it for me. My heart was thumping so hard I was surprised the others didn’t hear it. Then something touched my shoulder.

  “Ahhh!” I screamed, and spun around.

  It was one of the fish-people. Man, those guys were quiet. Like snakes. That’s why I hate snakes—too quiet. Did I tell you that?

  The fish-guy motioned for us to follow and swam into the tunnel. The three of us had no choice but to follow. We swam close together. It felt safer that way. The tunnel was pretty long and not all that interesting. It gave my mind time to wander and I started to think about what this lost city was going to be like. I wondered if it was completely underwater. That would be weird, like living in one of those fish tanks that people decorated with little castles and sunken ships.

  So far the fish-people hadn’t tried to communicate with us other than with hand signals. I wondered if that meant they couldn’t speak. I hoped that a Traveler’s ability to understand all languages included sign language.

  These questions, and a whole bunch more I hadn’t thought of yet, would soon be answered, for I saw that the tunnel was growing brighter.

  A few moments later the water level began to drop. We were soon able to raise our heads above the waterline. The farther we traveled, the lower the water got. We went from swimming underwater, to swimming on the surface, to walking along the bottom. That answered my first question. Faar may have been underwater, but it was dry. That was cool. I didn’t like the idea of hanging out in a fish tank.

  The water got low enough so we felt comfortable taking off our air globes. We were now standing in the tunnel with only a few inches of water lapping at our feet. I looked forward and saw that the tunnel was about to make a right turn. The bright light that came from around the bend up ahead told me that we were soon going to see the Lost City of Faar.

  We took off our fins and our spearguns, placing them in a safe pile along with our water sleds.

  The fish-man we had been following then walked back to us. Yes, I said walked. On two legs. I had a brief memory of The Creature from the Black Lagoon, that goofy old black-and-white horror movie. But if this guy wanted to do us any harm, he would have done it back in the water so I wasn’t scared. Much. He reached up to his head and began to peel away the green layer of skin that covered his whole body. It made a wet, sucking sound as he tugged on it. For a second I thought I would puke. If this were some kind of snakelike skin-shedding ritual, I’d rather not have to see it, thank you very much.

  But after a few seconds I realized what was really happening. As the light green layer of skin came off, it revealed a guy who was very much human. The green stuff wasn’t skin after all; it was some kind of fish suit. It reminded me of those tight suits that speed skaters wore in the Olympics. It was absolutely formfitting. But unlike speed skaters, this suit also gave the swimmer webbed feet and hands. Once the suit was pulled off, I saw that the guy’s hands were normal too. No webs, no scales. Underneath the fish suit he wore a blue, also formfitting, suit that went from his neck to almost his knees. It wasn’t all that different from the clothes we had on ourselves.

  As it turned out, there was nothing unusual about the guy at all. He was short, not much over five feet. But he looked strong. Not a lot of fat on those bones. I couldn’t tell for sure how old he was, but I’d guess he was around thirty, in Second Earth years. He was also completely bald. Michael Jordan bald. That wasn’t all that weird, but something about his face wasn’t quite right. I couldn’t figure it out at first, but then it struck me: He didn’t have eyebrows. You never think about eyebrows until somebody doesn’t have them. It’s kind of freaky-looking. Not horrible, just freaky. Adding to the freaky quotient was the fact that his eyes were the lightest color blue I had ever seen. I actually had to look close to see that there was any color in them at all. His skin was also very white, which didn’t surprise me since he lived underwater.

  In all, he was a fairly normal-looking guy, with a few strange characteristics. But nothing that would give me nightmares or anything. Things were looking up.

  The guy finished pulling off his suit—it was all in one piece—and walked up to us. “My name is Kalaloo,” he said with a warm smile.

  “Are we in . . .?” Spader asked, a little dumbfounded.

  “Faar?” the guy said. “Yes. This is Faar.”

  We all exchanged quick glances that said, “We made it!”

  Uncle Press said, “My name is—”

  “Press, yes, I know,” said Kalaloo. “And you’re Pendragon,” he said to me. “And you’re Spader. You look like your father.”

  Whoa! Underwater-guy knew who we were?

  “You knew my father?” Spader asked in wonder.

  “I was sorry to hear of his death,” the guy said with sympathy. “He was a friend.”

  “Time out,” I said. “How do you know us?”

  “Spader’s father told us there would be others. We have been expecting you for some time, and watching you as well.”

  “I knew it!” I blurted out. “I saw one of you under Grallion when we were escaping from the raiders!”

  “Yes, that was me,” he answered. “I wanted to make sure nothing happened to you. I almost failed when you were being pulled into the engine of their ship.”

  “That was you?” I said in shock.

  He smiled and nodded. “It was very close.”

  “Well, uh, thanks,” I said.

  “Thanks” didn’t cover it.

  The guy had saved my life. My head was spinning. It felt like we were three steps behind, again.

  “How do you breathe underwater?” I asked. “You don’t have gills or anything, do you?”

  Kalaloo let out a warm laugh and said, “No, but sometimes I wish we did.”

  He lifted up the green suit and showed us that built into the fabric was a small, shiny silver mouthpiece.

  “This pulls oxygen from the water; it’s very efficient.”

  This looked like a smaller version of the harmonica thing on the back of the air globes.

  “I was hoping that Osa would be with you,” Kalaloo said. “Will she be joining us soon?”

  I looked to Uncle Press, who answered the tough question.

  “Osa is dead,” he said solemnly.

  Kalaloo looked genuinely hurt. “She had a daughter,” he said.

  “Her name is Loor,” I said. “And she’s e
verything her mother wanted her to be.”

  “I am saddened to hear of Osa’s passing,” said Kalaloo. “She will be missed.”

  There was a silent moment of respect for Osa, then Kalaloo said, “We should go. They’re waiting for you at The Council Circle.”

  “Who is?” asked Uncle Press.

  “The Council of Faar,” he answered. “They are anxious to hear from you.”

  The three of us exchanged looks. They were waiting for us? This was all very strange, but there was no reason not to play along, so we followed Kalaloo toward the light.

  As we walked I noticed that the ground was now completely dry. When we rounded the corner of the tunnel we stepped into an area that looked like a locker room—Faar-style. There were several people there, all pulling off their green fish skins. They must have been the swimmers we saw outside. They all had the same look as Kalaloo: light skin, bald, no eyebrows, and bluish eyes. It was kinda freaky, but I was already getting used to them. What should I call them? I wondered. Faarites? Faarmers? Faarbarians? I soon learned to refer to the people there as “Faarians.”

  They hung their swim skins on hooks and then put on these soft, white tunics that had a little bit of an ancient Roman feel. These gowns pulled down over their heads and went to above their knees. They tied them tightly at the waist with pieces of cloth that varied in color from rich green to deep red. Nobody wore shoes, not even sandals.

  As Kalaloo led us past them, many of the people smiled and welcomed us.

  I said “hi” back as many times as I could. I wanted to show them that I was cool too. It got to the point where I was walking backward to keep eye contact with them. I kept walking backward until I walked right into Uncle Press.

  “Oops, sorry, didn’t mean to—” I turned around and froze. The words caught in my throat. That’s because I had just gotten my first glimpse of the Lost City of Faar. Or maybe I should call it the Found City of Faar. Maybe I’ll just call it Faar. Or maybe I’ll just call it . . . phenomenal.

  Where should I start? Yet again, I was about to enter an entirely new and amazing place. I had to keep telling myself that according to legend it once existed on the surface. If that were true, then this city would be plenty cool. But when you factor in that we were sitting hundreds of feet below the ocean—well, then it became unbelievable.

  As strange as this may sound, I was looking out at a rocky mountain. I know, that’s impossible, but that’s what it was. The city was built into and around the craggy ledges of a small mountain. The mouth of the tunnel was closer to the top than the bottom so we were actually looking down at most of Faar.

  The city had an ancient feel to it. There were no modern buildings, no cars, and no sign of technology anywhere. But there were plenty of birds. Can you believe it? Birds were flying in this underwater cavern!

  The buildings had an ancient Greek look with marble staircases that led up to the columned entryways of domed structures. They were perched all over this craggy mountain and ranged in size from huge, impressive monuments like you’d see in Washington, D.C., to small simple stone houses made of whitewashed stucco. I saw many Faarians strolling along gentle pathways that snaked in and around and up and down and everywhere in between. There were beautiful, hanging vines draped over most of the city and several waterfalls cascaded from springs hidden deep in the mountain.

  Far below, at the base of the mountain, I saw lush, green fields. There were some larger buildings down there that didn’t seem as elaborate as the ones that dotted the mountain. I made a mental note to ask what they were later.

  Remember, we were underwater. A major detail that I’ve left out is that the whole place was protected by a glittering dome. There was no sky, only a vast dome that allowed filtered light to make this city as bright as day. I now understood what the upside-down smile on Spader’s father’s map was. It represented the dome that protected Faar.

  Kalaloo let us stand there for a while to soak in this wondrous sight. He must have known how amazed we were. Finally he asked Spader, “Is it what you imagined?”

  “Hobey,” Spader said in awe. “It’s like someone reached into my mind and pulled out everything I ever thought about Faar and made this.”

  “I have to admit,” said Uncle Press, “I’m not familiar with the legend.”

  “Let’s walk,” said Kalaloo.

  He led us along a gently winding path made of soft sand. That was good, since none of us wore shoes.

  “I think the myths have grown larger with time,” he began. “But I can give you the simple story. In the beginning Faar was the only dry land on Cloral. The myths say that it sank after a cataclysmic event, but that isn’t exactly what happened. The simple truth was that the waters of Cloral rose. Luckily it took a very long time to happen. The Council of Faar knew the water was coming and had time to prepare. A giant dome was erected over the center of the city. What you see here was only a small part of Faar. It wasn’t possible to save it all. The waters began to rise even as the dome was being constructed. It was a race. By the time Faar was completely sealed and safe, the water was nearly to the top.”

  I thought back to our swim to get here and realized that while we were skimming across the shallow reef, the city of Faar was down below us, hidden by a skin that looked like coral.

  “Why does the dome look like coral from up above?” I asked.

  “Because it is,” Kalaloo answered. “At first the dome was crystal clear, but over time the coral grew and enveloped it. For the longest time it was kept clear, but eventually the Council of Faar thought it best to allow the coral to hide us. However, we keep the covering thin so that light can find its way through.”

  We continued to walk through this amazing city. People strolled by us and always gave a friendly wave. They were all pretty mellow. I heard soft music coming from one of the buildings we passed. It sounded like that New Age stuff you hear in the dentist’s office that’s supposed to calm you down before they drill into your head. Not exactly my taste.

  “Why did you decide to hide?” asked Uncle Press.

  “Faar was the beginning of life on Cloral. It grew into an advanced civilization that used water for power and created building materials from the silt under the seabed. But people eventually grew restless. Long before the water rose, adventurers built ships and left to explore the rest of our world. They went in search of other dry land, but there was none to be found. Those people lived with many hardships as they struggled to survive on the ocean. Generations passed and because Faar was the only civilized place on all of Cloral, it became a target. The sons of Faar who left in search of adventure now returned as enemies in a desperate search of food. Faar was in danger of being destroyed. So when it was discovered that Faar was going to be swallowed by the sea, it was considered a miracle that gave us our only hope of salvation.”

  “So when the city sank, you stayed hidden underwater to protect the city from the descendents of people who were born here?” I asked.

  “Exactly. The people in the ships above had to create an entirely new world from nothing. Many died to pave the way for the mighty habitats you see today. The fact that they’ve come as far as they have is due to their undying spirit to survive, and because of the people of Faar.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Spader.

  “From the time the Council of Faar decided that we would remain hidden, it was declared that we would do all we could, secretly, to help those who remained living on the surface of the water. How could we not? They were our brothers. It became the principal goal of all Faarians. The Clorans, which we call the people above, needed all the help they could get to help them. We would secretly tend their underwater farms. We led them to mines which held material for building. We even saved many from drowning as they struggled to build the habitats.”

  “Just for the record,” I interrupted, “you keep saying we like you were there. You’re not like, ancient, are you?”

  Kalaloo laughed and said, “No,
not at all. Most of what I am telling you was passed down to me by my ancestors. There are at least two hundred generations separating me from the Faarians who built the dome.”

  “Okay, cool, just wondering.”

  “Make no mistake,” Kalaloo continued. “If not for the people of Faar, the Clorans would not have survived to become the great society they are today. We are all very proud of this, and still do all we can to help our brothers above.”

  Uncle Press asked, “What do you know of the trouble that’s facing them right now?”

  “This brings us to the meeting we must attend at the Council Circle,” said Kalaloo. He suddenly became serious.

  “We first heard of the problem from Spader’s father. It is a very rare occasion that a Cloran stumbles upon Faar, but your father was not a typical Cloran. It was like he had a much greater sense of . . . purpose.”

  I knew exactly what Kalaloo meant. Spader’s father was a Traveler. He totally had a greater sense of purpose.

  “And I sense that you three are much the same,” he added.

  Right again, fish-man.

  “What did he tell you?” asked Uncle Press.

  “He said he feared a great plague would soon come to Cloral that would endanger every living person.”

  I shot a look to Uncle Press and Spader. It seemed as though Spader’s dad saw Saint Dane’s plan coming. The horrible thing was that he became a victim before he could stop it.

  “Did he know exactly what was going to happen?” Uncle Press asked.

  “He was afraid that something might damage the crops,” answered Kalaloo. “From what we have seen, he was right. We are receiving word from all over Cloral that underwater farms are now producing poisonous crops.”

  “It’s the fertilizer,” I said. “It makes plants grow faster, but they become poisonous.”