The Drowned Tomb (The Changeling Series Book 2)

by James Fahy

  The door was Erlking’s own Janus station. It was a pathway between the human world and the Netherworlde. The previous year, when he had first discovered his Fae heritage, Mr Moros, disguised as Phorbas the satyr, had led him through here, to explain his origins and help him choose his mana stone. It had been the first time Robin had ever set foot in the Netherworlde since leaving it as a baby. Now, when he thought of that day, it was always with a mixture of wonder and horror. Moros could have kidnapped him there and then if it hadn’t been so risky. He could still remember his ‘tutor’ expressing annoyance that Irene had insisted the door be left open while they were across the threshold.

  “I thought with everyone gone, we could just have an hour in the Netherworlde,” the faun grunted, tugging persistently on the handle. He was gripping it with both hands and had his feet off the floor, braced against the crimson wood. “It’s been forever and ever and ever since I was there. We can stay close to Erlking, just on the hill. I miss the smells.”

  “Woad, really,” Robin insisted, trying to dissuade the blue boy from tugging on the door. “For a start, there’s no use tugging, the door opens inwards anyway, and secondly, it won’t open if Aunt Irene isn’t here, no matter what you do.”

  Robin was also pretty sure that a quick excursion into the Netherworlde, however well-intended, was something certain to send Aunt Irene ‘off her nut’, as Henry would put it. The Netherworlde was strictly off limits. It was a beautiful, but dangerous place. Especially for the world’s last changeling. He would be lying to himself, however, if he didn’t admit to longing to go back there just as much as Woad did.

  The faun looked back at Robin over his shoulder, a look of frustration on his face. His tail whipped back and forth like an angry cat.

  “Can’t you use your powers?” he asked. “I just wanted us to do something fun while we had spare time, that’s all. Inky is asleep. It’s hard looking after a pet all day, I’ve been playing him some flute music, but I’m not very good at it.”

  “Where on earth did you find a flute?” Robin asked.

  Woad looked a little guilty. “Just found one,” he muttered under his breath. “And anyway, it would be a good thing really, mean old Hestia won’t want us cluttering up the house all day. I overheard her say she has to wash all the wallpaper today. She always does on the last Monday of the month. Every room. Then tomorrow, it’s the annual check of all the lightbulbs.”

  Robin patted Woad on the back affectionately, encouraging him to stop warring with the door.

  “I know, she goes on a power-trip when Aunt Irene’s out of the house, but there’s no trick I know to open this door, honestly. I’ve only ever been through it once before, and she allowed it that time. We should think of something else to do, okay?”

  The faun slid down the wall dejectedly. “Boghags and brontosaurs,” he grumbled. “Like what then?”

  Robin had left Karya’s coat on the stand in the hallway downstairs, but was still holding the Undine’s unopened cylinder. “We could always have another crack at figuring this out?” He waved it at the faun in what he hoped was an enticing way. “Aunt Irene and Karya have been at it for months. Maybe it’s time the boys had a go, eh?”

  Woad rolled his yellow eyes. “Homework? Haven’t you had enough of that yet? You’ve always either got your head buried in your books or you’re at the lessons with the wet lady.”

  “I like my books,” Robin replied, a little defensively. It was true he had been practising hard and finally making significant progress in the Tower of Water lately. He had impressed his tutor during the last session in the atrium, when at his instruction, he had asked her to place the five silver cups at various points around the walls of the circular room and had then stood in the centre, proceeding to make water leap from cup to cup in soaring arcs across the room in great rainbow leaps, four and five streams at a time. They had criss-crossed above his head, shooting back and forth, a glimmering net, a moving, liquid spider’s-web lacing over their heads. As a finale, he had focused and slapped his hands together, freezing the entire structure immediately in a delicate lacework above them in the soaring heights of the atrium. It had held its form, pale and perfect above their upturned faces, a matrix of interlaced ice crystals, before crumbling into a fine snow which softly fell down around them and on to their upturned faces. Calypso had actually given him a genuine smile, and a rare nod of approval. He was beginning, she told him, to allow himself to use his emotions at last.

  Woad now picked himself up off the floor and took the tube from Robin, rattling it alarmingly next to his ear. “What was the riddle again?” the faun asked.

  “Tritea’s tomb, the frozen gates, opens after triple states,” Robin repeated from memory.

  Woad scratched his chin as the boys made their way back along the corridor, flipping the tube end over end with his free hand.

  “It’s bound to be something damp, right?” the faun said, as they reached the top of the stairs.

  “Damp?”

  “You know, watery, icy. Tower of Water stuff,” Woad elaborated. His face suddenly lit up. “I have the most best idea of all time!”

  “You do?” Robin was dubious.

  “I haven’t got a clue about this,” the faun declared, grabbing Robin by the wrist and pulling him down the staircase in a swift jog. “But I made some new friends who might! Come on!”

  Woad dragged a confused Robin back through the house, out of the front doors, and away across Erlking’s wide lawns, pollen and leaves bursting up in in clouds from beneath their running feet as they headed away from the manor and toward the comparative cool of the shadowy trees.

  Woad, excited and sniggering, would not be drawn on where they were going until they were fairly deep into the woods. Robin crashed through the undergrowth clumsily while the faun sped on ahead, dancing around bushes and under branches while Robin took the more direct route of straight into them.

  “Where are you taking me, you maniac?” Robin called out, laughing, as Woad scurried on ahead. Erlking was well out of sight behind them now, and they scrambled up and down several leafy hills in the dappled light, the summer earth dry and crumbly under their feet. Robin hadn’t been this deep into the woods before. He wondered how far Erlking’s radius of influence reached. Were they beyond the perimeter here? He was guessing they were.

  “It’s not far, this way,” the faun called back, excited.

  Eventually, after a solid half hour of crashing through trees and beating their way through bushes, they arrived, panting and roasting. Robin stopped short before a deep open glade, where a hollow of sorts, a deep dip in the hilly woods, held a large, refreshing-looking pool. There was a steep jagged tumble of rocks beside, forming one side of the hollow, and down which flowed a decent woodland waterfall, splashing prettily into the inviting surface below. Stocks and tall bulrushes crowded the floor of the hollow, a colourful flowered carpet framing the water. The trees crowded overhead, almost covering the sky, making the glade seem secret and enclosed.

  It felt a hidden place, and the light of the sun fell down in filtered green shafts through the leaves.

  “Wow,” Robin said in admiration, as they stood on the lip, looking down into the small gully, listening to the splashing of the waterfall. White butterflies darted here and there amongst the tall, nodding stocks. “This place is pretty wonderful, Woad. But why are we here?”

  Woad had been mentioning his discovery of a pool deep in the forest all summer long, trying to convince Robin and Henry to come and explore, but Robin had been too busy with his lessons at the lake and in the house. He had been imagining a little puddle in between the trees, not this verdant and lush grotto.

  “We’re here, Pinky, because of the sirens,” Woad explained, grinning over at him, his face in dappled green sunlight. He scrambled down the grassy slope to the water’s edge below. “Come on. I bet they can help.”

  “The sirens?” Robin asked, confused as he followed, slipping down and making his
way through the bullrushes, “Woad, this isn’t the Netherworlde, this is Bronte country. You know that right?”

  The faun gave him a pointed look. “And when did you become such an expert on the Netherworlde, pteranadon-brains? You think no one ever leaves the Netherworlde and comes to live here instead? There is a war on you know. Not everyone wants to play.”

  “How could sirens be at Erlking?” Robin asked, joining Woad at the water’s edge. The noise from the waterfall was louder down here, and the agitated water threw choppy reflected sunlight back up onto the boys’ faces.

  “This isn’t Erlking,” Woad confirmed. “We passed the border a while back. These are just woods. But we’re not really too far, so I don’t think you can get in trouble for it.” He considered this. “Well, you probably can, but only if the bossy ones find out. And to answer your question, the closer you are to Erlking, the more Netherworlde creatures there are, Pinky. It’s like a big magnet for us. Well, a big magnet with doors and windows and chimneys, I mean.” He was crouched at the water’s edge and reached out, dipping a hand briefly in the pool and swishing it about. “Sirens have been talking to me all summer. They’re a bit … weird, but it’s okay. They like me to come and talk to them. They helped me learn how to look after Inky. What songs he would like, what to feed him. They can help with this too. I bet they can. I’d bet my tail on it.” He stopped, pulling his blue fingers from the dark water. “Well, maybe half my tail. No! Wait, just an inch! I can spare that I suppose.”

  “I thought sirens were supposed to be dangerous,” Robin said, a little concerned.

  “Are we?” a voice had come, quite clearly, from behind the waterfall.

  Robin whipped his head around in surprise. Standing just beyond the curtain of falling water, he could make out a shadowy outline. There must be a cave behind there, he thought. It’s been watching us. The voice was low and deep and soft.

  “Everything is dangerous to something,” it said. “What have you brought us today, my blue friend?” The shadow shifted, and the voice became a little plaintive. “Won’t you swim with us?”

  Woad looked over at the waterfall with his usual open and friendly face. “I’ve told you a million times, fauns don’t like to swim. It’s not that we’re not good at it. We are. I’m probably the best swimmer there ever was.”

  Robin could see other shapes, two or three of them, moving below the surface of the water. He hadn’t noticed them until now. Silent large shadows, like huge koi. “Swim with us, swim with us,” they echoed faintly, voices rising in strange whispers somehow through the surface of the water. Robin, watching them circle lazily, took a wary step back from the edge. Into the flowers.

  “This one…” The shadow behind the waterfall said. “Is no faun.”

  “This is the Scion!” Woad said proudly. “The actual real Scion and everything. You can’t have him though, he’s mine. He belongs at Erlking, not in the woodsy woods. He’s a Fae. The only one left in the human world.” He thought for a minute. “And there’s probably not that many left free back home either.” He shook the thought away. “We have something we want to ask you, water-sisters.”

  The shapes in the water became agitated, swishing back and forth faster. They echoed Woad’s words urgently. “The Scion?” Their voices overlapped one another like waves.

  “The Scion of the Arcania,” the shadow behind the falls said, sounding both impressed and rather intrigued. Robin saw it tilt what he assumed was its head – it was so hard to make out. “How delicious. How simply marvellous,” it said. “A Fae, here amongst us, in our hallowed waters. Do you hear, sisters? A Fae no less. And a young one too. Young and strong and full of life.”

  “A Fae…” The sounds rose from the water, sounding impressed and filled with odd longing. “Delicious, delicious, such an honour.”

  “Woad,” Robin whispered from the corner of his mouth, not taking his eyes off the waterfall. “I think … we should go.” The hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end. Whatever these creatures were, Robin’s instincts told him they were predators. Woad seemed completely oblivious. He clearly didn’t have much judgement of character as far as Robin was concerned.

  “What does he want?” the things beneath the water spoke. “What does he ask?”

  “Speak, great Scion of the Arcania.” The shape behind the waterfall raised its hands, and reached out through the water, parting the torrent like curtains. Robin had been expecting hands, but what emerged from the darkness were mottled grey claws, large and hoary, like those of a crab. They were barbed with wicked looking black tines. They clicked, eagerly. “What would the Scion ask of the sirens?”

  Robin was now quite certain this was a terrible mistake. He wanted away from the pool, and to drag Woad with him, dragging him off by the tail if needed, but he was busy trying to keep one eye on the siren reaching out from the waterfall towards them, and the other on its sisters, swirling underwater. The shapes seemed larger now, they were closer to the surface. Their movements reminded Robin of circling sharks.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said, in as friendly a voice as he could manage. “Really. Look, we’re sorry to have bothered you, we really ought to get going, so, it was lovely meeting you … ladies … but—”

  Woad looked confused. “But what about the riddle?” he asked loudly.

  “Riddle?” the thing in the waterfall asked, its low voice rasping. The outstretched claws clicked eagerly again in a twitching manner, sharp and fast. “What … riddle?”

  “Woad, I don’t think it’s safe here,” Robin said out of the corners of his mouth. He was inwardly cursing the faun for ever bringing them there in the first place.

  Woad stood up. “Oh, don’t worry,” he said, utterly unconcerned and without bothering to lower his voice. “Sirens can’t leave water. They always want you to get in and swim with them, but they never come out.” He shook his head. “Swim swim swim, honestly, every time I’m here. But they are good at talking too. I told you, they helped me with Inky. Sirens are old and clever. They know lots of things.”

  “You said you would swim with us,” the voices in the pool whispered, a little petulantly. “You said you would. You promised, little blue one.”

  Woad grinned, raising a finger. “Aha! Yes. But I didn’t say when though.” He shrugged. “I mean, I probably will, one day, but I’m a very busy faun.”

  “What is the riddle, Scion,” the siren in the waterfall asked again. It moved forward, so that its face was just on the other side of the falling curtain of water. It was still lost in shadow, but Robin could make out pale features, long straight hair which looked matted and flat to its long, angular head. The eyes were large, much larger than a human’s, and milky white. The eyes of a dead fish. Its countenance rippled like a mirage behind the moving water. Robin couldn’t see clearly, but there was something terribly, terribly wrong about its mouth.

  “Your friend is right. Sirens are clever,” it said slowly. “We can help. We can help the Scion of the Arcania. Why doesn’t he come into the water? Speak with us? Come and swim, little Fae. Share your secrets and we will share ours.”

  “Tender Fae,” the dark sisters beneath the surface whispered. “Come and swim in the dark with us.”

  “Um, actually, I’m fine for swimming, right now, thanks very much,” Robin said carefully. The three sirens were certainly unnerving, but he had his mana stone on, he thought he could probably defend himself, as long as he stayed out of the pool. He had combat spells ready. Galestrike or Needlepoint would do the trick if it came to that.

  Woad may well be right, perhaps these creatures could help them. They were water Panthea after all.

  “Why would you offer to help me?” he asked the one above the surface, holding the cylinder carefully before him. “Why are you here in the human world anyway? You don’t work for Lady Eris? You don’t hate the Fae?”

  The siren snickered, he saw its shimmering face split into something like a grin, rippling behind the fa
lling water. “Work for Eris,” it spat. “Work for Eris? Hate the Fae? Child, do you think all of those who work for Eris do so out of hatred? Or is it more likely out of fear? If you want to keep out of Eris’ way, and not have her attention fall unfavourably on you, join her side, yes? That is the thinking of many. The darkest spot is often at the foot of the lighthouse.”

  Robin could understand that, he supposed.

  “We are here because we choose to be,” the siren told him. “We have made these woods our home since long ago, when the war came. There are ways and means. Pathways between the worlds that even all-powerful Eris, with all her stolen power, does not know. We left the Netherworlde. Sirens are not ruled. We are nobody’s slaves.” The claws retreated behind the waterfall, and the being moved backwards slightly into the shadows.

  “Why would you help me though?” Robin asked again, making his way cautiously around the edge of the pool closer towards the waterfall. The long grass and bulrushes rustled around his legs. They would want something in return, he was sure of it.

  “Swim with us,” the siren called, its low voice a rasp under the noise of the falling water. “Our water is fine and cool, little Fae. It will quiet your blood. It will calm your mind.”

  “I don’t want to swim,” Robin replied, refusing to be distracted. “I need help with a riddle. It’s to do with the Tower of Water. With the tomb of Tritea, the Undine.”

  There was a soft hiss from the darkness behind the waterfall, and the shadow of the siren seemed to bloom here and there with light, soft pinks and blues rippled along the edges of its form, passing over its skin in strange electric waves. Robin had seen the same thing on deep-sea fish on TV documentaries. Gran had loved those shows. “Those things are beautiful and ugly at the same time, Robin,” she used to say. “All pretty lights to lure the little fish in, and bloody horrible big fangs to keep ‘em there. That’s nature for you,” she had said. “Beauty and bloodshed.”

  The lights of the siren flickered and strobed, captivating bioluminescence in the dark cave. Was that why it had stepped back into the shadows, the better to show off its colours? Robin blinked, focussing with some difficulty. They play of light drew his eyes. It was oddly hypnotic.