The Prince of Neither Here Nor There mp-1

by Sean Cullen

  The metal had seemed reassuringly thick when he’d slammed it shut on the canine horrors and their mad mistress. Now a massive dent appeared in the hatch.

  “Are you serious?” Brendan shouted at the hatch.

  He was answered by another clanging thud. The hatch bowed farther in.

  “Oh, come on. I mean, I was totally ready to accept my death in here, and you won’t even grant me that dignity you… stupid… dog things!” He kicked the hatch in frustration and immediately regretted it. His foot throbbed. “Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.”

  He sat with his back against the inside hatch and rubbed his foot in his hands. He didn’t think he’d broken anything but it sure hurt.

  The darkness wasn’t complete. A small red indicator light on the wall by the inner hatch was the only illumination. Brendan pulled Kim up so that they were sitting side by side. Thuds rang against the hatch like a bell. The hatch was holding but for how long? He put his arm around Kim and waited.

  The scrape of claws raking across the outer hatch interrupted his moment’s reverie. Could they cut through steel? I guess I’ll find out soon enough. And the noise! Deafening. So deafening, in fact, that at first he didn’t notice the knocking on the inner hatch.

  During a lull in the Hounds’ assault, he realized that he’d been hearing the tapping for quite some time, but he hadn’t clued in that it was coming from the inner hatch, not the outer.

  “Hello?” Brendan said softly. Then louder, “Hello?” Easing Kim back against the wall, he banged on the hatch and was answered by a series of ringing taps. “Is there someone out there?” The taps came rapidly.

  Now what? He had no idea who was rapping on the outside of the hatch. If he opened it, would there be some horror even worse than the Kobold pack and Orcadia? Renewed clawing and thudding on the outer hatch made him decide. It can’t be any worse.

  He wrapped his hands around the wheel on the inner hatch. Grasping it in both hands, he spun it as hard as he could. The hatch opened suddenly with a rush of water. The water was making the return journey from the office towers above, so it had absorbed some heat, but it was beginning to fill the chamber up quickly. Brendan felt the field hockey stick bump against him. He grabbed it in his left hand and wrapped his right arm around Kim’s chest, pulling her upright to keep her above water.

  Suddenly, two Human-shaped figures burst out of the water, a man and a woman, smiling in the red light. Their skin was dark and slick, water beading on its surface.

  “Hey, buddy,” the man said. His soft brown eyes were smiling. “What’s up?”

  Brendan didn’t know what to say.

  “You look like you could use a hand,” the woman said, raising a long-fingered hand to Kim’s cheek. In the dim light, Brendan could see that both of them, male and female, sported long, bristling whiskers that stuck out a great distance below their noses.

  “You’re…” Brendan stammered. “You’re Faeries, too?”

  The woman laughed, a gentle coughing bark. “Not exactly. We’re Silkies. 67 Water Folk.” She turned to study Kim’s face, lolling at Brendan’s shoulder. “Is she hurt?”

  “I… I… I don’t know. She was attacked by-”

  As if mentioning her was enough to renew Orcadia’s fury, the chamber was rocked by a violent impact. The water sloshed back and forth. Another blow finally knocked the outer hatch out of true. Light flared around the edge of the hatch frame.

  “I have you now,” Orcadia hissed. “Like fish in a barrel.”

  The water began to drain out of the chamber into the room beyond.

  “We must go,” the newcomer said urgently. She fished something out of a small pouch at her hip and stuffed it in Brendan’s mouth before he could protest. “Chew this.”

  “Huh, gug!” Brendan reflexively bit down and his mouth was filled with a salty, musky flavour, not unpleasant but extremely odd. Like some kind of seaweed jerky, he thought. The man grabbed Brendan by the arm, and the woman took hold of Kim, forcing a small wad of the green paste into Kim’s mouth as well.

  The strangers hauled Brendan and Kim out into the tube. The current slammed into them like a freight train. The force of the water drove the air from Brendan’s lungs. Terrified and disoriented, he plunged down into cold wet darkness.

  67 Silkies, or Water Folk as they often call themselves, are akin to Faeries. They inhabit lakes, rivers, and seas around the world. Excellent swimmers, they can breathe underwater and swim to great depths. They tend to travel in groups, as they enjoy the company of others of their kind. In ancient times, they gave rise to the legends of the mermaids, helping distressed sailors to safety. In recent years, their habitat is increasingly threatened by pollution and industrial waste. They can leave the water for short periods of time, but they prefer the depths of their watery homes, staying away from Humans or “Drylanders,” as they call us.

  THE WATER FOLK

  Brendan thrashed and heaved in a panic. He was drowning! His lungs were filling with water! He was… He was…

  Not drowning even though he was sucking water in and out of his lungs! Somehow, he was breathing the water! After the initial weirdness of the sensation, he found he could settle down and breathe more evenly. He laughed, sending a silvery string of bubbles out into the water.

  “Relax,” the man said into his ear. “Enjoy the ride.”

  “How am I able to do this?”

  The man explained, “It’s water weed. We grow it for visitors. My sister and I don’t need it. Silkies can breathe water naturally.”

  Brendan stared.

  The woman grinned, showing even, pearlwhite teeth. “I am Oona, and my brother is called Miv. We heard the commotion and we came to investigate.”

  “Lucky for you we did,” Miv said, winking a big brown eye. He twitched his whiskers in amusement. Brendan was reminded of seals he’d seen at the Metro Zoo.

  “I’m a little out of my element, here,” Brendan said, marvelling that he could speak underwater. His voice sounded dull and muffled in his ears. “Kim got hit with something back there and she’s unconscious. She said we needed to get to a place called the Swan?”

  The siblings looked at each other and nodded. “We can take you close,” Oona said. “Now hold tight. We’re coming to the gate.”

  Brendan craned his neck to look forward. A faint glow was approaching from below. Occasionally, he bumped against the sides of the pipe, but for the most part, Miv guided him unerringly, spiralling down the pipe.

  The glow grew stronger, and soon Brendan could make out a chrome filter grate at the bottom of the pipe. Miv and Oona gently turned against the current and lowered themselves feet first, kicking against the flow of water, slowing their own and their charges’ descent.

  Oona handed Kim to Brendan. He struggled to hold her upright against the current while he waited for the Silkies to open the grate. The pause gave him a chance to examine his rescuers.

  At first Brendan thought they were wearing wet suits, but when they moved their limbs, the faint light refracted off their slick hide. Their skin was covered in dense hair like a seal’s fur. Their arms were long and slender, ending in fingers joined by webbed skin that allowed them to swim easily. They went barefoot, and their toes were long, splayed, and also webbed. As they worked on the hasps that sealed the grating, they anchored themselves by curling their toes around the bars. They gently waved their hands in the water.

  Looking at them working, Brendan suddenly realized that they were dressed only in loose-fitting loincloths made of a silvery material that looked like fish skin. The cloths were held in place by a belt of woven weeds. With a shock, he noticed that Oona was bare-chested. He blushed and looked away. Oona saw him do it, and she twitched her whiskers playfully at his discomfort.

  The grating swung open soundlessly on well-oiled hinges. The Silkies ushered Brendan into the open water, closing the grating after them. Looking more closely at the lights while the Silkies fastened the hasp, Brendan could see that they weren’t lanter
ns, at least not electric lanterns. The bulbs of light were pods of some kind, a string of bulbous seaweed flowers that emitted a soft, greenish glow.

  “Glow-weed,” Miv told him, seeing his curiosity. “We grow many different types of weeds as tools and utensils. We shouldn’t hang around here too long.”

  “The computers that monitor the system have motion sensors,” Oona explained. “If they sense the grate is open, they send an alert to the controllers and they send a Drylander work crew. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”

  “Drylander?”

  “That’s what we call the Humans.”

  “Does anyone just call them Humans?” Brendan asked.

  Miv screwed up his face in distaste. “How boring! Calling everything exactly what it is!”

  “It’s less confusing,” Brendan pointed out.

  Brendan looked around but there was nothing to see outside the circle of light save for murky dark water. “Where are we exactly?”Brendan asked. “I mean, are we far from the Swan?”

  “Not so far,” Oona said reassuringly. “But we should be going. Miv will take Ki-Mata.”

  Brendan looked down at Kim’s inert face. Miv laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Have no fear. She is safe with me.”

  Reluctantly, he let the Silkie man take Kim from him, and Miv tucked her under his strong arm. Driving downward with his splayed feet, he shot forward into the water, disappearing after a few strokes into the murk.

  Oona reached up and tugged a glowing bulb free of the wreath of weeds and handed it to Brendan. Taking it in his hand, he was surprised at how warm it was. He smiled gratefully at Oona. She sensed how fearful a ride through the dark lake might be for one of the uninitiated. She extended her hand with a friendly nod. He took it, marvelling at the strength of her elegant fingers and their odd texture. With a kick of her feet, they were off.

  He had no idea how fast they were going. Guessing speed was impossible when there were no landmarks or reference points. Brendan had seen the surface of Lake Ontario many times while driving with his parents along the expressway. The lake seemed more like an ocean sometimes with huge slate-grey waves capped in white driving against the jetties. He looked in the direction he assumed was up and saw nothing but darkness outside the perimeter of the glow-weed’s reach. Strange. Something didn’t seem right. He thought about it for a moment before he realized what was bothering him.

  “Where are all the fish?”

  Oona looked back at him with a puzzled expression. “There are no fish. They are all gone.”

  Brendan couldn’t believe it. “There have to be some fish.”

  “Oh, there are some eels.” Oona stopped, hanging in the dark water, her face sad and serious. “There are some that scrape the muck for food in the deepest part of the lake. But no true fish remain, nor otters nor beavers nor any creature that swims. The lake is dead. Even we do not live here. We come to see if any life has taken hold. We patrol the waters to make sure nothing goes amiss. We try to punish the worst polluters by fouling their machinery and sabotaging their factories.”

  “How is that possible?” Brendan asked, but even as he spoke the words, he knew. Pollution and overfishing, oil spills and chemicals dumped in the lake had sterilized the waters. How many times had he seen news reports saying that the waters were too full of disease to swim?

  Oona’s eyes flashed with anger. “Drylanders have destroyed the lake, annihilated every living thing, and snuffed out the very soul of the waters.” Brendan could feel her anger burning in her voice. “Drylanders! We must obey the Truce but it is bitter for us.”

  “What is this Truce? People keep mentioning it but no one explains it.” Brendan called out to her.

  “An agreement, forced on our kind by the Drylanders long ago,” Oona answered.

  With a flick of her powerful hands and feet, Oona increased her speed through the cold murk. Their conversation was at an end. Brendan kept his mouth closed, partly because the water they ploughed through made his lips flap if he opened his mouth and partly because bits of weed and dirt would get into it. The sensation was odd, as though he were flying through the water. He held on to Oona as tightly as he could. He didn’t want to be left behind in the dark watery wasteland of the lake. He thought about what Oona had said: the whole lake dead. What had the lake been like before people had come and poisoned it? He couldn’t even imagine it. The lake had always been a thing of beauty to him. Now he realized he was only seeing the surface. Beneath the waves, Humans had made a desert.

  Time passed with the rush of water in his ears. At last, he marvelled as the floor of the lake came up to meet them. His heart fell again as he saw the rubbish strewn on the lake floor. Tires, shopping carts, rubbish bins, plastic bags, cans, bottles, and a million other discarded objects were half-buried in the sterile muck. They skimmed along a few metres above the lakebed and a metre or two below the surface. He could make out the lights of the shoreline and the wake of a boat, one of the ferries heading out to Centre Island. 68 Daytrippers travelled out to the amusement park there and to ride bicycles on the island paths on the weekends.

  Oona took them in among the frothing waves churned up by the ferry’s wake, corkscrewing in the turbulent water. Her mood appeared to have lightened somewhat. Brendan got a glimpse of what she might be like when she was in a happier time. She flashed a smile at him, a glimmer of white teeth in the darkness at his side.

  They swam to a stop as they approached a series of regular, dark columns furred with green algae fronds. Oona guided them along through the massive pillars of the ferry dock, coming into shore. The water was finally shallow enough for Brendan to stand upright. He queasily placed his feet among the garbage and stood up.

  His head came up out of the water beside Oona’s. He took a deep breath and immediately started to cough.

  Oona slapped his back. “You have to get used to breathing air again,” she said, laughing at his spluttering. “Give it a moment.”

  Brendan coughed heartily for a few seconds, spitting and choking until he had control of himself. Water flowed freely from his mouth and nostrils as he emptied his lungs. The bow wave from the ferry washed over him, filling his mouth with dank, oily water. He choked anew.

  He was in the middle of the second coughing fit when Miv’s head, hair slicked back with water, broke the surface. He raised Kim’s head above the water. She was stirring but still not fully awake. “Here you go,” Miv said. He pushed Kim into Brendan’s arms. “We have brought you to the Island of the Ward as you have asked us to do. The Swan is here. We can do no more.” Miv and Oona turned away.

  “Wait!” Brendan grabbed Oona’s shoulder. “Where are you going? I need you.”

  Oona smiled ruefully and shook her head. “No. We go this far and no farther.”

  “Why?” Brendan shifted Kim so he could get a better grip on her. He was starting to feel cold. “Can’t you live on land?”

  The Silkies laughed. “No, no! Nothing like that. We can survive on the land for a time,” Miv told him. His dark eyes turned to watch the ferry easing into the concrete pier. “We choose not to. We will leave you here. Goodbye, Breandan. Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

  Miv disappeared under the waves with barely a splash to mark his passing. Oona gripped Brendan’s forearm and squeezed. “Remember what you’ve seen.” She raised a dripping arm and pointed ashore. “Follow the path. There are signs for eyes that can see. The Swan awaits you. Good luck.” She winked and disappeared after her brother.

  Brendan was left standing in the cold stinking water. Kim floated in his arms.

  Now what? What am I supposed to do?

  As he watched, he noticed a smudge of cloud roiling over the lake. Lightning flashed within the disturbance. The cloud was moving out over the lake from the centre of town. He had lost Orcadia in his trip under the lake but only for a while.

  She was coming.

  He jumped when the voice shouted from above him.
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br />   “I see you down there!”

  68 The Toronto Islands were originally a peninsula connected to the mainland by a long spit of land. In 1858 a storm blew a hole in the peninsula, in effect cutting the islands off from the mainland. Humans believe the storm was natural, but it was actually part of the Ward conjured by Ariel to create The Ward’s Island. But I’m getting ahead of myself… and I wouldn’t want to run into myself should the part of myself that’s ahead of myself suddenly decide to stop for some reason.

  THE WARD’S ISLAND

  “Are you deaf, kid? I’m talkin’ ta you!” the voice demanded angrily.

  Brendan looked up and saw a man in a waterproof coat and hat staring down at him over the edge of the pier. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “U-uh,” Brendan stammered. “I was just… uh… swimming!”

  “Ya can’t swim there! Are ya stupid or what? The water’s filthy! You could get cut to pieces by the props. Get outta there.”

  “Okay,” Brendan mumbled. He hefted Kim under the arms and dragged her up onto the bank. The mud made the footing slippery and she was a dead weight. He fell a number of times before he managed to get them up onto the grass, where he collapsed beside her to catch his breath.

  The man was still looking at him, taking in Kim with a critical eye. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “Uh…” Brendan thought quickly. “She fell in and… she fainted from the cold. She’s fine. I’ll take care of her.”

  “Just stay right there.” The man pointed at Brendan, indicating he was not to move. As he turned away, Brendan saw him take a radio from his belt. The man spoke quietly into it, and Brendan was sure he was calling the police. For a moment, Brendan toyed with the idea of just sitting, waiting for the police to come, but a look at the storm cloud boiling across the lake changed his mind. He knew that the police wouldn’t be any help against the likes of Orcadia. He had to find this place, the Swan. He had to get some answers.