by Jon Mayhew
The submersible felt cramped and stifling as Dakkar pulled the lid down and secured the watertight seal with a lever. Thinking back to the plan, Dakkar twirled a brass disc at the centre of the main wheel and the engine clanked into life, making the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.
The craft didn’t move.
Dakkar frowned, his heart thumping. He glanced around and noticed a brass handle in among the levers behind the wheel. He whirled it round and heard a gurgling sound as seawater filled the hull of the craft. Gradually, the waterline crept halfway over the portholes, but there it stopped. What’s going on? Dakkar wondered.
It was then that he noticed the tight line of rope stretching to the side of the cavern. He laughed to himself. I forgot to untie her!
Dakkar whirled the handle back, relieved to hear the bubbling gush of water as the hull filled with air once more and the boat floated to the surface. Quickly, he opened the lid and scrambled out, almost falling into the pool as he hurried to untie the ropes that held the craft fast.
Then he sat back in the captain’s seat, secured the lid and whirled the submerging handle again. The craft pitched and rolled alarmingly and his ears popped as it began to sink. Bubbles and foam seethed around the portholes as they submerged but, gradually, a misty, blue landscape of rocks and swaying seaweed was revealed.
‘Astonishing,’ Dakkar murmured, staring out at the shoals of fish and the anemones clinging to the jagged rocks. In the distance, a dark opening scarred the wall of the cavern and the seaweed showed that the sea did indeed come in through there.
For some time Dakkar sat transfixed by the view through the portholes. Then, shaking himself, he scanned the controls.
A brass lever sat in a slot engraved with commands such as Full Ahead, Slow, Backwater and Stop. He pushed the lever forward to Full Ahead and the engine behind him whirred as the craft began to slide forward. Dakkar’s heart raced as the submersible’s speed increased. As it went faster, the cavern began to flash past him.
Dakkar pulled at the wheel, sending the craft lurching to one side and banging his head. In a panic, Dakkar twirled the wheel the other way, trying to correct the sudden turn. A huge pinnacle of barnacled stone loomed ahead.
With a yelp, Dakkar yanked the wheel towards him and the sudden upward tilt threw him back in his seat. The surface boiled above as the craft careered up the face of the rock. A wet slapping sound of weed hitting the hull told him how close he was to tearing the body of the craft against the rough stone. Dakkar’s mouth felt dry and sweat trickled down his back as he fumbled for the lever and dragged it to Stop. The craft came to rest and righted itself. The engine’s whine died to a muted tick, barely heard over Dakkar’s anxious panting.
A smile forced itself across Dakkar’s face, followed by a chuckle, and then he gave a whoop and punched the air, banging his knuckles on the roof.
‘That was incredible!’ he shouted, almost deafening himself in the small confines of the boat.
Oginski’s Patent Undersea Submersible, he mused. O.P.U.S. Not a bad name. But I’ll call you the Makara, after the sea serpent ridden by Varuna, god of the ocean!
Once more he spun the submerging wheel and the engine blasted the water from the hollow hull of the newly christened Makara. Bubbles obscured the view and Dakkar’s stomach lurched as the Makara bobbed up to the surface.
Carefully, he guided her to the side of the pool and pulled the lever. The lid sprang up and Dakkar stiffened, suppressing a gasp.
Oginski stood glaring at him, hands on hips, his face a mask of anger.
Chapter Four
Nightmares
Dakkar hunched his shoulders and looked at his feet as he stepped out of the Makara. ‘I’m sorry, Oginski. I didn’t mean to –’
‘I turn my back for a few hours and you go sneaking into my workshop?’ Oginski said, his voice trembling with rage.
‘The cellar door was open. I saw the plans of the Makara and –’ Dakkar began.
‘The what?’ Oginski cut in, his eyes cold and narrow.
‘The Makara,’ Dakkar mumbled, his cheeks flushed. ‘That’s what I call her. She’s incredible –’
‘What’s incredible is that you didn’t drown yourself!’ Oginski spat. ‘It was a foolish and idiotic thing to do!’
Oginski marched Dakkar up the steps. It was all Dakkar could do to keep from slipping again. Tears stung his eyes. He felt once more like the ten-year-old who arrived at the castle.
‘You are to forget everything you saw today,’ Oginski snapped, pushing Dakkar into his bedroom. ‘The . . . the Makara, as you call her, is a prototype, and a pretty poor one at that. I’ll be scrapping her tomorrow.’
‘But, Oginski –’
‘As for you,’ Oginski interrupted again. ‘You can stay here without supper and think about how you can persuade me to trust you ever again!’
The door slammed and Dakkar heard the key turn in the lock. Dakkar hurled a pillow at it.
‘It’s not fair!’ he shouted. ‘Maybe if you had trusted me then I wouldn’t have been tempted to take her!’
The door remained locked and Oginski’s footsteps slowly faded down the hall.
‘I hate you!’ Dakkar bellowed, punching the remaining pillows and choking back the sobs.
Gradually, he stilled, grumbling until an uneasy sleep overcame him.
In his dreams, Dakkar was back in Bundelkhand, in perfumed palaces of carved marble fountains and silk cushions. He was hiding behind a thick silk curtain, spying. A huge black cobra swayed in front of his father.
‘My son grows soft,’ the rajah said to the snake. ‘His mother spoils him with treats. He does not see the difficulties of ruling an ungrateful mob.’
‘He is bright and ssstrong,’ hissed the cobra. ‘A keeeen learner and fassst.’
‘He spends too long in the classroom,’ his father murmured. ‘He should go out into the world. Learn to fight our enemies.’
‘Give him to me,’ hissed the cobra, swishing back and forth hypnotically. ‘I will make a fearssssome leader out of him. He will crush his enemies and demand the respect of hisss people.’
‘Dakkar!’ his father yelled. ‘Come out!’
‘Give him to meeee.’ The snake rose up and slithered around Dakkar’s feet, binding his legs. ‘Give him to meeee.’
The cobra seemed to grow and twist round Dakkar’s body, round his neck. Dry scaly skin enveloped his face, smothering him, plunging him into blackness. He couldn’t see; he couldn’t breathe. He tried to scream but his mouth was sealed.
Dakkar sat bolt upright, yelling. His bedclothes were soaked in sweat and yet he shivered. The screaming continued but it wasn’t him.
It was coming from downstairs.
Dakkar shook his head and rubbed his eyes. The grey of dawn trickled through the thick curtains. He could hear shouting, banging and clattering.
‘Oginski?’ Dakkar croaked, easing himself off the bed on to the cold floorboards. ‘Mrs Evans?’
Something crashed to the floor downstairs.
The door was still locked. Dakkar could see the key in the lock. Ripping the picture of the sea anemone he’d been drawing from the easel, Dakkar slid it under the door and thumped the keyhole from his side. The key clinked on to the paper. Dakkar gently pulled the paper back under the door, bringing the key with it. His fingers trembled as he fumbled with the lock.
Pushing the door open, Dakkar stumbled down the stairs. Broken glass and splintered furniture littered the hallway. The suits of armour that had always stood sentry were broken and scattered.
A tall, thin figure stood in the doorframe. With his hands he held Mrs Evans by the throat. Her lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling.
‘Ah, Prince Dakkar,’ the figure whispered, reminding Dakkar of the snake in his nightmare. ‘I was just . . . making enquiries as to your whereabouts but this lady seems to have died. Most inconvenient!’
‘Dakkar, run!’ Oginski appeared in the doorway, held by two burly
figures shrouded in long black robes. ‘The Makara!’
One of the shrouded figures brought a fist down on the back of Oginski’s neck, sending him to the ground, senseless.
‘Take Oginski to the ship,’ the dark figure said, and pointed a finger at Dakkar. ‘Get the boy too.’
Dakkar leapt down the last three steps and landed at the foot of the stairs. The cellar door stood ajar again. The dark figure loomed above him and Dakkar threw his gaze back to Oginski, trying not to look at the slumped form of Mrs Evans.
‘Yes, run, Prince Dakkar, run,’ the figure laughed. ‘See how far you get!’
The scarred, hunched man from the tavern appeared from behind the dark figure and lunged at Dakkar.
With a yell, Dakkar scurried across the hall and through the cellar door, slamming it shut. Scrabbling with the bolt, he managed to slam it home just as someone crunched against the door.
A heavy thump echoed around the cellar, but Dakkar didn’t stop. He rushed into the dank room and through the iron door. Forgetting the worn, slippery steps, Dakkar staggered and fell flat on to his back, sliding down towards the pool. Every step battered his ribs, forcing the air from his lungs. Cold slime chilled his bare legs and his nightshirt rode up under his armpits, binding his arms, making recovery impossible.
Gasping for breath, he stopped at the bottom and, groaning, sat up. The hammering at the metal door above him stopped abruptly. Only his panting breath, echoing around the high roof of the cavern, and the suck and slosh of the tide could be heard. Dakkar frowned. Have they given up?
Pulling himself to his feet, Dakkar glanced up the steps and then quickly turned back to face the pool. Something else was here with him.
A bony click accompanied the appearance of a long, stick-like leg from the water. Then another leg, and another, followed by a blue, spiny boulder with two black, beady eyes on stalks and mandibles that fanned the air. It was a massive crab. It rose up above Dakkar on its long spidery legs, clicking sharp pincers at him.
Choking down a scream, Dakkar threw himself back as the pincers whistled through the air, inches from his face. He landed on the steps behind him with a gasp. The crab scuttled forward, the points of its legs clicking loudly in the cave. Again, it stabbed with its pincers, slashing viciously through thin air as Dakkar scrabbled up the steps backward.
The crab scurried up the first few steps, scraping at the slick rock as it tried to get a grip. Seeing his chance, Dakkar lashed out with his feet, kicking its nearest legs. The crab slid down the steps and Dakkar rushed forward, leaping on top of its carapace. Claws snapped at him as he scrambled up and behind the creature, landing close to the Makara.
Dakkar’s fingers felt numb as he fumbled with the rope that held the boat, desperately trying to untie it. The crab had spun round now and scurried towards him again. Its claws grazed Dakkar’s leg as he threw himself to the other side of the Makara and untied the final rope.
Clinging to the top of the boat, Dakkar kicked out with one leg and sent the Makara drifting away from the edge of the pool. The crab, three of its legs on the boat, straddled the gap. Dakkar rocked, tipping the boat violently and nearly sending himself into the water. The crab scrabbled at the boat and the rocky ledge, trying to keep balanced. Gripping tightly to the rings that studded the Makara, Dakkar gave her another roll. This time the crab slipped sideways into the water with a splash that soaked Dakkar.
Without hesitating, he reached down and popped the handle that opened the craft. He slid inside, panting for breath as he slammed the lid down.
Something grated along the bottom of the Makara, reverberating through the entire hull. Dakkar shuddered as spiny legs grappled around the Makara, scratching against the portholes. The crab clung, upside down, from the hull.
He turned the starter disc in the centre of the wheel and slammed the brass lever to Backwater. The engine behind him began to click and whirr. Slowly, the Makara eased backward, but the weight of the monstrous passenger slowed her down.
‘Right,’ Dakkar hissed. ‘Let’s see how you enjoy this!’
He turned the ballast wheel, shrouding the Makara in bubbles, and it sank like a stone. The impact jarred Dakkar out of his seat as the ship rolled on top of the crab. Blood clouded the water, but Dakkar could just make out the creature’s legs floating free from the craft.
For a moment, Dakkar sat still, trying to slow his breathing and collect his wits. He sobbed as he thought of what had happened and all that he’d seen. Then he gave a scream as something whacked against the glass of the porthole nearest to him.
Dakkar’s scalp prickled at what he saw.
The crab’s blood still formed a dark red mist that obscured his view but he could make out a hand pressed against the glass. A large hand, the fingers gnarled and scaly. A thin film of webbed skin stretched between each finger. Another hand slammed against the window on Dakkar’s right, making him wince and whimper.
And this time a face peered in through the glass. Marbled, white eyes. A slit of a nose, and Dakkar had the impression of gills fanning the water behind an angular, scaly jaw. Dakkar would have said it was a fish but it looked too human.
More hands slapped at the portholes and thumped the body of the Makara. Whatever these creatures were, they were trying to get in.
Chapter Five
The Ingenious Tunnel
Gasping for breath and trying not to think of what might be outside, Dakkar scanned the inside of the Makara in search of something that might be used as a weapon.
Another thud shook the Makara. Dakkar saw a small crank handle and a red button set into a brass plate in the roof of the craft. A small label dangled from it, bearing the symbol of a skull and the words Use only in emergency. Turn twenty times and press.
Grabbing the handle, Dakkar jagged it round and round. The hammering outside grew more intense. The planks that formed the hull seemed to be shaking even more . . . Eighteen, nineteen, twenty. Dakkar stabbed his thumb into the red button.
A loud bang accompanied a blinding flash of blue lightning that illuminated the whole cavern pool. Shadowy semi-human forms flew back from the craft. Dakkar could see them floating face down in the water.
Electricity, Dakkar thought. Oginski had shown him a friction machine a few months ago – a wheel that you turned and it produced sparks. Dakkar had touched it and yelped as the charge numbed his finger to the knuckle. He smiled fleetingly at the memory. Then frowned at the strange, murky shapes that floated outside. I must have electrocuted them.
Dakkar looked back inside the Makara. It was lucky the handle was labelled. He stopped and frowned. Every device had a label tied to it. He hadn’t noticed before. Why did Oginski do that?
A letter lay on the seat next to him. Dakkar picked it up and read it.
Dakkar,
If you are reading this, then my fears have been realised. You are in great danger but you can use the submersible that you christened the Makara to escape. You are a clever lad and will work out her controls.
There is much I would like to tell you but I haven’t the time and, for some of those things, I need to look you in the eye and hope you give me the chance to explain. Maybe we’ll meet again but I fear that may not be so. Return to your father if you can, and live a good life.
Your mentor,
Oginski
Tears stung Dakkar’s eyes. He gave a great gulping sigh. Oginski had known something was going on. That’s why he had been so preoccupied and angry.
A distant boom vibrated through the water, snapping Dakkar to his senses. The intruders from above were trying to get through the cellar door again. Turning the Makara round, Dakkar peered through the porthole, searching for the underwater tunnel he’d spotted when he first submerged yesterday.
Seaweed rippled to and fro at the jagged tunnel entrance. It made Dakkar think of a sleeping sea giant’s mouth, the fronds of his beard waving back and forth as he breathed in and out.
Bracing himself, Dakkar pushed the lev
er to Full Ahead, thrilling at the whirr of the engine and the sudden acceleration. The Makara shuddered, slowing a little as she hit the current spewing out of the tunnel. Then the tide sucked the water from the pool, dragging the Makara through into the darkness. Dakkar winced as the sides of the hull rattled against rock. He wrestled with the wheel to keep the boat steady but the scraping grew louder. Suddenly, the current changed and Dakkar flew forward against the wheel as the tunnel spat the Makara back out into the pool.
Another muffled thump told Dakkar that the metal door above was about to give way. He didn’t have time to battle with the tide.
Panting, Dakkar climbed out of the seat and wound the engine handle tight. Then he climbed back in and pushed the lever to full power again. Water bubbled around the portholes and Dakkar was pressed into his seat as the tunnel mouth rushed closer. Again the current sucked the Makara back in. He fixed his eyes on the centre of the black void, hoping to keep clear of the edges. A thud reverberated through the boat, followed by an ominous screeching of stone on polished planking. Dakkar adjusted the speed as the tunnel wall dashed past him. Then, yet again, the current changed, sending the Makara hurtling backward. It clipped the mouth of the tunnel as it did so and went spinning back into the pool.
Dakkar thumped the wheel in frustration. The Makara just doesn’t have the power to escape the tide! Why would Oginski build such a marvellous ship in here if he knew she would be stuck?
‘He wouldn’t,’ Dakkar said aloud. The one thing he knew about Oginski after four years of learning by his side was that the man was a perfectionist. ‘So there must be another way out.’
Dakkar steered the Makara along the edge of the pool. Fish flitted out of the way and sea anemones fringed the water.
‘There!’ Dakkar whispered. On the other side of the pool, long fronds of what looked like seaweed obscured another hole in the wall.
As he came closer, Dakkar saw that the fronds were strands of cloth and leather, covering a gap that was too square to be natural but only just big enough for the Makara to fit through.
