The way ahead of them was even darker.
* * *
I could see a little bit, but only a little bit. The sandy ocean floor was no longer bare. It appeared to be strewn with what looked like algae-covered rocks. And farther ahead there seemed to be something hovering in the drift, but I could not make out what it was.
* * *
“Ven, we should prolly stop.” Char’s thrum sounded nervous. “I’m all but blind now. I can’t see a bloody thing.”
“That’s a good idea,” Coreon said. “We might want to settle at the bottom and ride out the storm, and get some sleep. Especially considering we’re now in the area where the sea dragon lives. He could be anywhere around here.
“And you would never see him until it’s too late.”
18
The Underwater Forest
* * *
A storm at sea is a frightening thing when you are on a ship. The waves can rise higher than the decks, spilling slippery salty green foam over the sides while the ship pitches up and down. The winds howl madly and the cloth of the sails sometimes tears. The ripping sound when that happens makes you feel as if your skin has been torn from your body. It’s all you can do sometimes to hang on and not be swept into the sea, let alone remain standing.
Under the sea, a storm is a different kind of frightening.
Unless it is a very violent storm, sometimes the only part of the sea that is affected is near the surface. The closer to the bottom you are, the less the drift moves. The winds may be screaming in the upworld, and the waves crashing, but a few fathoms deeper it’s almost like nothing is happening.
Except for the pressure.
The storm on that first night was little more than rain and wind, Amariel said. We did not go up to the surface to see if she was right, but I trust that she knows what she’s talking about. We took shelter in the first few rocks we found at the forest’s edge, and tried to sleep.
That was almost impossible.
The thrum of the storm echoed through the Deep. The sea pressed against our heads, making them ache, weighing us down in the drift and the dark.
Storm. Storm. Storm, it seemed to say. Storm. Storm.
Every now and then, a flash of lightning brightened the surface of the sea above us, casting ghostly shadows all around. The Underwater Forest looked haunted in the drift beyond the rocks where we were hiding. Coreon and Amariel did not notice. They were sleeping peacefully.
Char and I, on the other hand, lay awake, our eyes wide open, feeling the rumble of the thunder burbling through the water.
It was a little like old times on the Serelinda.
Only we were under the waves the Serelinda had sailed over.
Finally, when the winds let up, the thrum of the storm changed. The lightning stopped flashing, leaving behind nothing but the patter of rain on the ocean’s surface. It sounded like raindrops dancing off the world’s biggest roof.
It sort of reminded me of home.
Vaarn is a rainy city, so the patter of raindrops is nothing new to me. In fact, it’s a comforting feeling. I closed my eyes and thought back to my bedroom at home, a tiny attic room I share with two of my brothers, Leighton and Brendan, both of whom work in smelly parts of the family factory. In the summer when the window is open the rain washes the air of our bedroom.
It’s a great improvement over the regular smell of Leighton and Brendan.
So now, at the bottom of the sea, once the winds had gone, the thunder and lightning had ceased, leaving nothing but rain, I finally found it possible to sleep.
When I woke up, I was in a completely different world.
* * *
Ven could feel the sunwater even before he opened his eyes. His eyelids had almost become accustomed to the salt, so the warmth felt good on his skin.
He opened them carefully.
Then he blinked.
The dark and frightening place they had taken shelter at the edge of had transformed into a realm of immense, unearthly beauty. He and his friends were stretched out on what seemed like endless rocky ground covered in emerald algae swirled with soft colors of purple, yellow, and red.
Towering above them were what looked like trees, with thick broomstick-like trunks the width of his arm and others wider than his waist, around which large, lush green leaves stretched up to the surface above. The rising sun made the drift around those trees look misty and eerie, like an enchanted forest at dawn in the upworld, but alien and watery.
A pathway of sorts stretched out before them, lit by dusty sunlight.
Amariel yawned and stretched beside him.
“Morning,” she murmured.
“Good morning,” Ven said, looking around in wonder. “So this is a kelp forest?”
The merrow rubbed some sand out of her eyes and nodded. Then she reached out and tore a leaf off of a tall kelp tree and crammed it into her mouth.
“What are you doin’?” Char’s thrum sounded sleepy.
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m having breakfast.” Amariel’s brows drew together at the expression on the boys’ faces. “For goodness’ sake, it’s kelp. It grows more than two wrist-to-fingertips a day. Calm down. Your thrum is so negative. You’ll scare the nymphs and bother the water sprites.”
“Not to mention the sea dragon.” The feel of Coreon’s thrum was annoyed. “Please try not to embarrass me. I’ve had enough humiliation for one storm season, thank you.”
“Ven,” Char whispered. “Look.” He pointed into the Underwater Forest.
Ven peered into the deep velvet green of floating leaves and branches glistening in the sunwater. At first he saw nothing.
Then, just as his eye was moving to another area, he saw a flash of movement.
But no color.
“What was—” Char began.
“Shhhhhh,” cautioned Amariel. “It’s only the Vila.”
Ven watched, still as he could. The thick green leaves of the kelp danced in the drift. The sun’s rays broke the surface, filling the forest glen with moving patches of hazy light.
Then, slowly, a woman’s face peeked out from behind the trunks of the kelp.
Then another.
And another.
But while they resembled human women, the creatures had no color, no solid form. Instead they looked almost clear, like the jellyfish that floated on the surface of the sea.
Amariel rose up into the drift. She smacked her tail on the rocks they had slept on. The sharp impact sent ripples through the water, causing the wide green leaves to flutter.
And the clear beings to disappear into the kelp.
“What did ya do that for?” Char demanded.
“To make them leave.” The merrow brushed algae off her tail fluke. “Are you in the mood to dance?”
“Dance?” Ven edged a little farther into the kelp forest, but saw no sign of what Amariel had called the Vila.
“Never,” said Char. “Why?”
“Well, that’s often what Vila want land-liver males to do.” Amariel ran her fingers through her hair and brushed her hands over the scales that came up to her armpits. Then she put her finger in her mouth and swished it around. She pulled it out, making a popping sound. “Are we ready to go?”
“What exactly are Vila?” Ven asked as he picked up his knapsack and weapon. He ran his hand through his own floating hair to clear it of sand and algae.
“Fairylike spirits, a little like the Spice Folk in your inn, but bigger and more obnoxious,” said the merrow.
“There’s somethin’ in this world more obnoxious than Spice Folk?” Char said. “I don’ believe it.”
“I told you, Chum, everything is more extreme in the sea.”
“The Vila don’t belong here,” said Coreon. “They’re out of place. I hear they live in the clouds and somewhere on land in the upworld.”
“The summer must be dry in their homes in the land wilderness,” said Amariel. “They only come to the sea to gather rain for their cloud
s.”
“Or to cause mischief,” added Coreon. “It’s said they can summon storms. They may have even called the one last night. They are nothing to toy with. My father has warned me about them many times. They’re strong, and they can take many shapes, mostly of animals. It’s not a good thing that we have already caught their interest.”
The merrow snorted. “I’m not afraid of Vila. Let’s be on our way.”
She swam ahead into the frizzy shafts of sunlight that filled the forest pathway in front of them to the west. The boys looked at each other, then shouldered their weapons and knapsacks and followed her.
As they journeyed through the kelp forest, Ven kept his eyes open as wide as he could in the salty drift. The coral reef had been magical, and once they had left it he could not have imagined another sight as beautiful. But the forest of kelp had a different thrum, a sleepy, gentle call, almost like a merrow’s song. It was even more hauntingly beautiful.
“Be careful,” Amariel warned as that thought crossed his mind. “Vila have voices that can be enchanting to land-livers, and the kelp itself sings. This is a drowsy place. The injured and the sick are often brought to kelp forests to heal or recover, because the water is so rich here. Sometimes it’s hard to get out once you go in. So stay sharp and pay attention.”
“Right,” said Coreon.
“Will do,” said Ven.
There was no response from Char.
“Chum? Are you awake?”
“Hmmm?” Char’s response was dreamy.
The merrow stopped suddenly in the drift. She swam swiftly to Char, grabbed him by the shoulder, and spat in his eye.
A howl of pain, followed by coughing, rocketed off towering kelp plants, disturbing the quiet of the forest and making all the fronds and leaves shake.
“Wake up!” Amariel commanded. “I’m not kidding. Next time, it’ll be the tail.”
“She’s right,” Coreon said hurriedly as Char glared at the merrow. “You land-livers have to be especially careful. If the Vila get hold of you they may drown you, just for fun.”
“You spat at me,” Char said. “You spat at me.” His thrum shook with rage.
“Sorry. Next time I’ll just break your nose.”
“That’s it, Ven, I’m done.” Char dropped his barb and his pack. They floated down in the drift to the forest floor. “I’m goin’ home.”
“Yeah. Good luck with that,” said Amariel.
“Excuse us a moment,” Ven said to the Lirin-mer and the merrow. He took hold of Char’s arm and pulled him away from the path to a patch of what looked like giant kelp ferns. He leaned close to his best friend. “Look, I’m sorry she did that, but she was trying to keep you safe.”
“You don’ have to thrum-whisper. Both of them can still hear you, ya know,” Char said. “I don’t care if she hears me. Coreon too. I’ve had enough, Ven. We’ve only been at this a couple o’ days, and I’m already tired of seaweed and talkin’ in my head. I’m sick of the sting of salt and my underwear always being wet. And I’m beyond being sick of being treated like fish guts by a merrow who, as far as I’m concerned, totally lives up to the warning sea-Lirin fathers give their sons. Coreon says the Cormorant is going to do what he wants to, no matter what the Sea King advises. So why don’t we just go back an’ tell King Vandemere about what’s goin’ on in the harbor? Maybe he can do somethin’ to help the good people in the Gated City. This isn’t our problem, Ven. You did what you promised Amariel—you’ve explored the bloody Deep. Let’s go home. I’m gonna, whether you go with me or not.”
Ven took a deep breath. There was something in Char’s dark brown eyes he had never seen, a glint of anger that had not been there before.
“You’re not thinking clearly,” he said slowly, trying to have his thrum sound patient and reasonable. “First, you and I cannot get home alone. We don’t know where we are, but wherever that may be, it’s miles away from any place we would recognize. Second, even if we did know how to get home, there’s the little matter of actually surviving in the sea while we’re getting there. We’re in a place where plants sing and fish carry weapons. There are teeth and tentacles and poison everywhere you turn. We don’t have a chance. Third, assuming we can drag ourselves safely out of the sea in Kingston Harbor, the moment we return, Felonia’s spies will be all over us. We can’t go back now, Char. We have things we have to do, like it or not. I’m sorry she spat at you. But we don’t have a choice. We have to go on.”
“You may hafta go on,” said Char. “I can do what I want. I may be your best friend, but you’re not my master, Ven. Good luck. I hope you find whatever you’re lookin’ for out here.” He turned and started eastward back along the path out of the kelp forest.
Ven’s whole body flushed hot with panic.
“So that’s it? So you’re going against the captain’s orders, then?”
Char stopped. He hung in the drift, his back to the others.
Ven waited. A wave of hostile thrum from his friend washed over him, wordless.
Finally Char turned around.
“That’s low,” he said. His thrum felt steely against Ven’s skin. “That’s pretty low, Ven.”
“Captain Snodgrass ordered you to keep an eye on me at all times,” Ven said. He tried to keep his desperation out of his thrum, but it crept in anyway. “If you want to go, I can’t stop you. But I never thought you would be one to disobey an order from the captain.”
“I’ve followed your sorry hindquarters over most o’ the Island o’ Serendair,” Char said. “I’ve put my neck on the line for you just about every bloody day.”
“I know. And I owe you my life. So when we get back to the upworld, if there’s any place you want to go, I’ll be by your side, all the way. But, like I said, you’re not thinking clearly. The pressure of the sea is probably getting to you. You have to come with me. We have to stick together and see this through.”
The angry light in Char’s eyes burned brighter.
“There ya go, tellin’ me what I hafta do again,” he said. “You say you don’t have a choice, but you’ve already made one. I guess you’re choosin’ Amariel and her world over me—your best friend—and our world. You can’t live in two worlds at the same time, Ven, no matter how much you may want to. Go ahead, then—go farther into the Deep, go look for your sea dragons an’ your Summer Festivals an’ your long-dead legends about watery trees. Just remember what they keep tellin’ you here—you’re out of place. If that’s what you want, so be it. I’m done.”
He turned away and began swimming back out of the kelp forest.
Ven started after him “Char—”
“Kiss the keel, Ven.”
Ven stopped in the drift. The expression was one sailors used. It was the suggestion to throw oneself into the sea under the bottom of the ship.
And was only said to someone considered an enemy.
“At least take your knapsack and your barb,” Coreon called. “You don’t stand a chance without them.”
“He doesn’t stand a chance with them, either,” Amariel muttered. “He’s chum. Shark bait.”
Ven felt the corners of his eyes sting in the salt, and his throat tightened.
“Char—” he called as his friend swam away into a sunshadow that crossed the pathway.
His thoughts were choked off by the strikes of movement in the water where he was watching.
Three streaks of light shot out of the floating kelp thickets on each side of the pathway, clear and formless. They were accompanied by the thrum of high-pitched, tittering laughter.
The vibration scratched the inside of his brain, terrifying him.
As the sun shifted he saw three filmy figures, female and colorless, circle in the drift around his best friend.
He felt the thrum behind him from Coreon and Amariel almost as if they had spoken the word at the same time out loud.
Vila!
In a hideous swirl of motion, the fairy spirits seized Char and dragged him off toward
the surface, spinning and dancing frightfully. They flipped him upside down and righted him again, laughing as he struggled helplessly in their grasp. As they did, Ven saw a tiny glowing ball of intense blue light fall from Char’s pocket and slowly float down toward the bright algae on the ocean floor below.
“Oh no,” he whispered, his lips moving silently. “Oh no.”
It was Char’s breathing stone of elemental air.
19
Spicegar
“They’re going to drown him!” Ven shouted.
“Not necessarily,” Coreon said uneasily. “They could be taking him back to the clouds.”
“Doubtful,” said the merrow. “The Vila are pretty strong, and Chum’s pretty skinny, but he’d be too much of a load to haul all the way up to the sky.”
“He can’t breathe.” Ven swam over to the stone of air and picked it up from the patch of algae where it had dropped. It seemed fragile, little more than a bubble in the sea. He looked up to see the swirling creatures passing Char from one to another, spinning him in a freakish dance. His friend’s face was turning purple, and his eyes were open wide in fear. “Amariel, what do we do?”
“If we can get them to turn him loose, I can take the stone to him faster than you can,” the merrow replied. “But my tail would go right through them. I can’t slap him free from their grasp.”
Ven looked about desperately.
* * *
There have been many moments since my birthday, when I first left on the Inspection of the Angelia and never returned, that I have been really scared.
But I have never been as scared as this.
If you put all those other moments together, they still did not scare me as much as this.
When Char swam away from us, heading east, I was just beginning to wrap my head around the possibility that he might die if he didn’t change his mind and come back.
The Tree of Water Page 12
