by Amy Wilson
‘I don’t know. I’m still learning. What happened with Jago was an accident. I didn’t mean to do it.’
‘He was really rattled; he barely spoke for the rest of the day,’ Dylan says.
‘I shouldn’t have done it.’
Dylan shrugs, sitting next to me. ‘It’s not like he didn’t deserve it.’
‘Why is he so fixated on me, anyway?’
‘It bothers him that you’re different,’ he says.
I flinch. You’d think I’d be used to the idea already, but hearing it out loud makes it hurt more.
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.’
I shrug. ‘It’s just the truth.’
‘That doesn’t make it right,’ he says. ‘I should have made him stop. Especially if . . . if I might be different too.’
‘You mean you have magic too,’ I snap.
‘No.’ He winces. ‘I don’t. But I should have stopped him anyway. He’s not always a total jerk. He was OK when stuff happened at home.’
‘What stuff?’
‘After my dad died, we moved.’ He mumbles it, shuffles leaves with his feet, takes a breath. ‘Mum didn’t want to live by the sea any more; she knew he’d had a connection with the water, and she was worried I’d have it too. And then she met someone new. It was hard.’ He takes a deep breath, stares into the sky. ‘Jago was one of the first people I met when I started school. He was OK. He let me spend time at his house when I didn’t want to be at mine. After that, I felt like I owed him.’
‘Friendship doesn’t work like that. Does it?’ I stare at him. ‘I didn’t know about your dad. I’m sorry he died. Maybe his magic was connected to the water, and you have it too. Maybe that’s what happened – you used it somehow, and Ganymede saw and locked you up.’
‘I don’t know what happened,’ he says, getting up and brushing leaves off his bum. ‘I’m just glad to be out of that icy place. Come on – let’s see if we can get through to the next one. If we keep going, we might find Io’s globe; there’s bound to be a way out there.’
‘I thought you were afraid of Io.’ I stare at him. ‘I think I might be afraid of Io.’
‘You?’ He smiles. ‘I’ve seen what you can do. You don’t need to be afraid of her.’ He reaches down and pulls me up. ‘Now, how exactly do we get through this glass?’
Breaking through is easier with Dylan helping. We push together at the strange warped place we find in the glass on the other side of the enormous autumn tree, and after a breathless moment emerge in the pink dawn of the next world. The air rings with birdsong, and on top of a giant sundial perches a man with pointed ears and a grey-blue cloak that opens up like wings when he jumps down on to the shining mosaic-tiled ground.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asks. Tiny rainbow birds flutter as he walks towards us, settling quickly on to his shoulders, their black eyes shining as they watch us. ‘It is rude to burst in without invitation.’
‘We’re looking for a way out,’ says Dylan, keeping one hand on Helios’s back to stop him jumping up at the birds.
‘Out? Out where?’
‘Out of the snowglobes, to the real world,’ I say.
‘The real world?’ The man frowns, tilting his head to one side as he inspects us, his green eyes glittering. ‘Is it out, or in?’
‘Is what? What?’ I demand. ‘What?’
‘In, out – who knows,’ he says. ‘Does my lady know you are on the prowl?’ The birds chirp softly, some of them alighting on his head. ‘Yes, yes,’ he says. ‘My friends say you look familiar.’ He stares at me. ‘I do not see it, but they travel further than I do. I only go where I have been invited.’
‘Who is your lady?’
‘My lady the Great Io, of course,’ he snaps, and the birds take to the air in a whir of bright, sharp wings. ‘She is all powerful here, and all shall bow before her. But you do not look very magical. You just look like lost children.’
‘We have a little magic,’ I say.
‘Do you? Then why so plain? Why do you not fly, or sparkle? Why are you so sad? I do not like it. Where is your globe? What is it like?’
‘It was cold,’ Dylan says.
‘Why did you not warm it?’
‘I . . .’
‘Children –’ the man shakes his head – ‘you do not know what to do with yourselves. You could make anything here – my lady does not mind – so long as you are having fun! You could be anything – did you not see our friend the fox in there? He is a man, you know. A funny little shy man. I do not like him, but all the same I have seen him, rustling in his leaves, howling. Some of us are happy here with the worlds we have created in our globes. Some of us are having fun!’
‘I was not having fun,’ Dylan says, letting go of Helios, who immediately starts chasing the birds.
‘No, no! Contain your hound! You must leave, miserable children!’ The man flaps his wings, jumps up on to the sundial and twists it with a flourish, until the sky begins to brighten. ‘Sound the alarm, my pretties,’ he calls to the birds. ‘We have vagabonds here. Vagabonds!’
Colours bleed out of the world as the ground starts to shake beneath our feet and the birds’ feathers cascade around us, their sharp beaks darting like flashing knives, making the air blur. The man screeches, twisting faster and faster, his wings a silvery blur at his back, and we lower our heads, dashing around the mosaic, dragging our fingers across the glass until I find the place where it puckers.
‘Here!’ I shout, grabbing at Helios.
Dylan grabs my other hand, and we force our way through the glass.
We emerge underwater. Glittering starfish cling to an old wooden shipwreck, and I make for the surface, but slippery reels of golden seaweed cling to my feet. I kick at them, but they just seem to hold on tighter, wrapping round my legs. I scream, letting out a burst of bubbles, and then I’m choking, breathing in salt water.
Calm down. Dylan grabs my wrist, looks me in the eye.
I clamp my mouth shut. Can’t breathe!
He’s not panicking. He’s not drowning. He’s breathing underwater.
Dylan!
His eyes light up as he realizes what’s happening, but there’s no time for celebrating, no time for thought, even. My chest is burning, my limbs getting heavy.
What do I do? Help!
He pulls me towards him, sweeping an arm through the water. Tiny blue sparks trail from his hand. A huge bubble opens up around us, and the next breath I take isn’t seawater – it’s air.
‘Look what you did,’ I whisper, when I can find my voice again.
‘I didn’t know,’ he says, as Helios charges into the bubble.
I reach down and untangle the trailing weeds; they’re already slipping away from the air in the bubble.
‘I swear – I really didn’t think . . .’
‘Doesn’t matter now,’ I say. ‘Just keep doing it!’
‘I never let myself even wonder,’ he says, his hand still making little twisting motions. ‘I kept away from the water after Dad died; I knew Mum would freak out if she ever saw that I had the same feel for it. I didn’t know I could do something like this.’
He looks caught between grinning and freaking out entirely, and I don’t want him to freak out right now, so I just beam at him.
‘It’s awesome,’ I say. ‘Maybe we should head for the surface, though . . .’
‘But look at this place!’ he says, gazing through the bubble. The sea is full of life. Tiny orange fish, golden starfish, long rainbow-coloured eels that wind like ribbons through the deep blue. Coral unfurls all around us in shades of pink and purple, and the wreck is covered in clusters of moon-bright barnacles. ‘Let’s explore,’ he says. ‘It’s an old pirate ship – look at the flag – there must be treasure on here. I’m sure I saw gold . . .’
‘We’re not on a treasure hunt!’ I say, but his new enthusiasm is infectious, and a moment later I dart after him towards the dark hulk of the ship, the bubble dragging with us
.
The deck is slippery with algae, and the mast creaks ominously when I brush up against it. I take courage from the sight of the sun through the clear water; I’ve never been much of a swimmer. Helios chases the tiny little azure fish that venture into our bubble, and Dylan is like a seal, swishing this way and that, lifting wood panels and diving down to explore the deep.
Eventually he hauls a chest up on to the deck with a look of triumph on his face. He pokes and pries it, and I join him. The padlock is old and rusted, and when we heave against it together it breaks, and the lid of the trunk swings open, revealing piles of gold coins and glittering stones.
‘Wow,’ breathes Dylan as the sea around us darkens, the pull of the tide getting stronger. ‘Look at this!’ He puts his hand in and grabs a handful of gold, flourishing it at me and sprinkling most of the coins over the deck. ‘Gold, Clementine – real gold!’
I giggle. He sounds like a pirate. But when I go to take in a breath again, I choke on a mouthful of salty water – the bubble has burst. Dylan stares at me in a panic and grabs hold of my hand, kicking towards the surface as the sea turns black, a sudden storm making violent riptides that swirl and tear us apart. I’m lost in an inky nightmare – I can’t see anything, can’t tell which way is up or down. Strange pale shapes flutter about me, coiling around my ankles until I can’t kick any more, and when I scream, there’s no sound, just a rush of bubbles. My chest is bursting, the sea is an endless weight, and darkness creeps in the corners of my eyes, as I’m turned head over heels.
A slim hand reaches out and takes me by the arm, pulling me hard. There’s a flash of silvery scales, a giant fish tail, barely visible through the murk, and Dylan’s pale face, staring into mine as we’re pulled to the surface, Helios at our heels.
We emerge into the full force of the storm. Lightning strikes, and the waves are screaming giants that swoop down and would crush us but for the figure that holds us tight, darting through the water and emerging, again and again, until the worst is over, and the sea is just a cold, choppy mass of black beneath a cloud-filled sky.
Her skin is moon-bright, her hair as inky as the sea, piled up on her head and winking with tiny golden starfish. When she finally lets go of us, it’s colder than ever, and my teeth chatter so hard I can’t speak.
‘Mer . . .’ manages Dylan, his eyes wide as lamps. ‘. . . maid.’
‘So you have heard of me,’ she hisses through needle-sharp teeth.
‘What happened?’ I stammer.
‘Storm.’ She shrugs. ‘Your boy’s magic isn’t a match for that. You were unlucky. Or lucky that I was close by. Either way, you will be safe now. The sun will break through, by and by. Do not linger here, though; this is my sea, and Io is on the prowl. She will not like me helping you.’
I stare at her, shivering and small, treading water with bone-weary legs.
‘Are you a magician?’
‘I am a mermaid!’
‘You made yourself like this?’ Dylan frowns. ‘Was it like this when you were locked up in here, or did you make the sea?’
‘It was snow,’ she says with a shudder. ‘And I was angry for a while; I had not done much to deserve being locked away. One little storm I made, to teach a boy a lesson, and here I was. There was no way out.’ She flips her tail and stares at the rainbow-coloured scales. ‘But I always liked the sea, and my lady Io said I could make my world as I wished, so I made it thus.’ She looks around with pride at the rolling waves, the white horses that break on the surface, and then her eyes flick up to the storm clouds, still lingering. ‘I never really cared for children, though, and my lady does not either.’ She gives us a toothy grin. ‘She has smelt you, little ones; she is on your trail!’ And she turns and dives down into the sea just as the clouds part.
‘Quick,’ says Dylan. ‘We need to get out of here before she finds us.’
It’s not so easy to find a shimmery bit of glass in a world of water. We swim out until we find the edge, both of us constantly on the lookout for any sign of Io, but there’s no thin place at the surface. Eventually, as blue skies open up around us, we have to dart down. I search the glass while Dylan keeps a new bubble around us with his strange, fluttering motions. His eyes spark, but the air is thin, and beneath all the magic, he looks exhausted. By the time I find the whorl in the glass, he’s drooping, and I have to catch hold of his shirt to drag him through, Helios lumbering after.
It’s cold in the next world. Wind whips at our wet clothes, and a light drizzle begins to fall. Ahead of us up a flight of pale wooden steps is a square yellow building with a wide door, bright light spilling out.
‘Come on –’ I pull at Dylan – ‘it’ll be warmer.’
‘Wait a sec,’ he says, stumbling and sitting heavily on the bottom step. ‘I just need to catch my breath.’ He draws Helios in close between us and rests his forehead against the back of his neck.
I pull out my mother’s book, sodden now with water, and peel a few of the pages apart. The writing is completely smudged, the sketch at the front barely recognizable. I take a deep breath and blow gently, hoping that somehow when it’s dry it will be restored. The pages crinkle, the leather is stained and only the odd word is now legible. I tuck it under my arm, tears stinging at my eyes, but I tell myself it doesn’t matter – maybe it will somehow recover itself in this magical place.
Dylan doesn’t stir, and after a while my skin starts to itch from all the drying saltwater. We can’t stay here forever.
‘Dylan? Are you all right?’
He looks up at me. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Because of the magic?’
He nods. ‘It feels like I left a little bit of me in there, when I did that. It was like I was pouring myself out, and now there’s a hole.’
‘You’re tired,’ I say. ‘You put a bit of yourself into it – you had to, or we’d have both drowned. It’ll come back, though. You’ll feel better in a bit.’
‘Is this how it feels when you do it?’
‘I haven’t really done very much,’ I say. ‘I mean, I got into your globe, and then I got us through to the fox – I suppose that must have been magic. And that day with Jago. But those are all just moments, little flashes of time. You used yours for quite a while in there; it’s bound to have an effect. Especially because it was the first time.’
‘Nearly the first time,’ he says, closing his eyes.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I think . . . maybe . . . I did something the day I ended up in my globe. I didn’t mean to, but I was walking home and thinking about you and Jago, that flicker in your eye. I’d seen it in my dad before, and I wondered if maybe I could do it too. When it started to rain, I flicked a few drops away.’ He motions with his thumb and forefinger. ‘But that was all; it was nothing. And then everything turned upside down, and I was in a snowstorm, and I didn’t know where I was, or what was going on. For a while, I was so busy trying to get up the hill, trying to break through the glass, I didn’t even remember I’d done it, and then when I did I told myself I was just being silly, after all that time on my own in the globe. I never wanted magic; it scared me. Even when Io told me I should use it . . . I didn’t even let myself try.’
‘It doesn’t matter now,’ I say, frowning at the slur in his voice. He sounds as if he’s already asleep, and we can’t rest here. We have to keep going, find our way out before all of our energy is used up on fleeing from these strange worlds.
‘My dad had magic, and it didn’t save him,’ he says, opening his eyes and squinting at me. ‘Why didn’t he use it to save himself?’
‘Maybe he tried?’ I take a deep breath; it’s hard to find the right words. ‘I don’t know. But it can’t be all bad, Dylan. I mean, you just saved our lives!’
‘Yeah.’ He smiles, and lets me haul him up. ‘I’m a regular hero.’
But he stumbles up the steps after me, and as much as I’m aching and cold, and more tired than I’ve ever been before, he’s clearly feelin
g even worse. We have to get out of here while he’s still moving.
My heart leaps when we traipse into the dry warmth of a library. The front desk is an ornate pulpit, and shelves run from floor to ceiling for as far as the eye can see, all of them full of books that seem to have been ordered according to their size and colour. Somewhere here, there must be a clue. One of these books must have something that will tell us how to get out of here.
‘All this water, in my library!’ shrieks a voice as a man wearing a velvet coat rushes towards us, flapping his hands, his top hat wedged firmly on to his curly silver hair. ‘How dare you! Get out – get off my parquet floor! Stop dripping! And what’s this – a dog? In the library? A boy, and a girl . . . half drowned . . . and a dog . . .’ He slows, his tone changing, recognition dawning. ‘How curious.’
‘Why curious?’ I ask.
‘There aren’t many who travel through our worlds,’ the man says. ‘And you alone are untethered – I can see it!’ He stares at me. ‘Did you enter this place under your own volition?’
‘I came in . . . I came to get my friend out,’ I say, backing up as Helios shakes himself, fat droplets scattering among the bookshelves.
‘Interesting.’ He scowls at Helios. ‘But no matter, no matter,’ he says after a deep breath, his eyes sparkling. ‘I have you now. All those whispers of strange children, and here you are! I shall keep you –’ his eyes flick to the open door of the library – ‘I shall keep you safe. You look in need of answers, my dears. May I help?’
‘Who are you?’
‘My name is Timothy,’ he says. ‘I am the librarian, clearly. Oh, and I see you have a book! Let me see, my dear. Let me see!’
‘Uh, no, you’re all right,’ I manage. ‘It’s just a diary, and it got a bit wet, so it’s probably useless now.’
‘Not with the correct preservation,’ he says, pushing the front of his hat back to mop at his brow with a white hankie. ‘This is not a common lending library, you know. This is a magical library, and I am very good with books. I have to be – in here are books of such power, they could turn your kidneys into roses, or curse the whole world to eat nothing but spaghetti for a year! Now, let me see . . .’
