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Authors: Brian Hastings

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11

THE SEAGARDEN

 

T
he gray
stone walls of the tunnel fly by in a seemingly unending blur. I brace my arms
against the walls of the sub as it bangs back and forth against the hard stone.
My stomach lurches with each new turn, and I half expect to be thrown through
the glass window at any moment. I hear the sound of rushing water getting
louder and higher pitched. The tunnel narrows.

Then, with a sudden heaving jolt, I am launched up out of the
tunnel and into a world of color.

I am surrounded by a garden of a thousand different hues. My eyes
go wide. In all my dreams of the sea, I never imagined anything as beautiful as
this. Purple blooms of acropora stretch out their fuzzy fingers like spring
lilacs. Orange sun polyps blossom in great dazzling bouquets. Red carnation
corals shoot out like flames. Bundles of translucent blue bubble coral shimmer
in rays of gleaming light. And everywhere I look there are schools of fish,
swooping up and down in great undulating patterns like flocks of starlings. The
whole garden is alive with movement.

Something bumps me from below, and I see Swish’s head pop up in
front of my window. He swims a slow wide circle, taking in the sights around
us. I can tell from his reaction that he’s never seen anything like this
either.

I sail over the brightly colored coral, exploring this newfound
wonder. A graceful stone-shelled kelp turtle turns its head toward me as I
pass, its rocky shell broader than my submarine. It feels so peaceful here.
This place looks like it has never been touched by the Fomori.

A familiar glint of gold emerges from a clump of waving sea grass
and comes toward me. The clockwork seahorse floats just in front of me,
beckoning with his head for me to follow.

He swims down to a little nook within the rocks and points toward
a speck of orange peeking out from underneath a small pile of loose rocks.
There’s something hidden there.

I really don’t want to go back into the freezing water again, but
I sense that this is important. With a quick roll of the sub, I dive out of the
hatch and hurry toward the nook. I brush aside the loose rocks. Underneath is a
thin gold chain necklace with an orange seashell as a pendant. I look closer at
the shell. It’s a zephyr whelk!

Holding the shell up to my lips, I take a slow, careful breath.
The air feels salty and wet, but it works. I look back at Swish and then at the
seahorse to see if they share my astonishment.
I’m breathing underwater
.
Bubbles tickle my nose as I laugh in spite of myself. I put the necklace on
over my head, still giddy with excitement over this new discovery. As long as I
don’t lose the zephyr whelk, I’ll never  have to worry about running out of air
outside the sub. The seahorse points again toward the rocks where the whelk had
been.

“Thank you,” I try to say to him, releasing another mouthful of
bubbles. He points back to the rocks once more. I look back and pull a few more
rocks aside, revealing a piece of pale orange fabric. Pulling it out, I realize
that it’s an old diving suit. The fabric is soft and stretchy. The seahorse
looks from the suit to me and back again.

Sure, why not
, I think. I pull the suit on over my shirt
and shorts. Although it looked several sizes too large when I was holding it,
the fabric seems to shrink to my body. I can no longer feel the cold of the
water at all; I feel as if I am in my bed, snuggled inside a warm blanket.

“How is this possible?” I ask the seahorse. I look toward Swish
and shrug. He swims up to me, looking me over with curiosity. He seems as
surprised as I am by my new outfit. “Now we can play tag!” I say, tapping his
front fin and swimming away as fast as I can. Swish chases after me, and I
dodge away as he tries to tag me back. The corals below me look like a rainbow
of summer blossoms. A shiny golden glint in the sand catches my eye, and I dive
down just as Swish comes racing back to tag me.

I brush off the sand, discovering the glint is a heavy golden coin
almost as big as my palm. On one side is an engraving of a tower that looks
like the Deeplight, while the other side has the image of a coiled serpent.
Running my hand through the sand, I find two more coins. They both show the
Deeplight on one side, but they each have a different engraving on the back.
One shows what looks like a gleaming golden city, and the other has a picture
of a shell that looks like a zephyr whelk. I put the three coins into the
pocket of my diving suit. My father will want to see these too.

As I look back up, I see the clockwork seahorse swim toward me and
beckon for me to follow. I meet his eyes, looking at him sheepishly.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “You brought me here for a reason, didn’t
you?”

He leads me across the colorful gardens of coral, down to the
mouth of a small cave that lies at the base of a tall sheet of rock. I peer
inside. The floor of the cave is covered in what look like glowing rubies, each
one as big as the tomatoes from my garden. I follow the seahorse through the
entrance and into the cave. Lying on the ground, her body curled up around the
rubies, is the merrow. As I get closer, I realize that these aren’t rubies at
all—they’re eggs.

The merrow seems to be sleeping. I swim closer, careful not to
wake her, and in the faint glow of light from the eggs I can see her face is
pale. There is a long gash in her tail as well as a red cloud in the water
above it. She must have been hurt by the sentinel back at Skeleton Reef.

“I’m so sorry,” I say. “How can I help?” The seahorse just looks
from the merrow to me. He brought me here in hopes that I would know what to
do. I look at the merrow with a feeling of utter helplessness.

Stay calm
, I tell myself.
You can do this
.

My father taught me how to bandage a wound, but I’ve only ever had
to do it once. Even then it was only a minor cut on his arm from a jagged piece
of scrap in the nets. I’ve never had to bandage anything serious before . . .
and besides, I have no bandages to work with! I’m going to have to find some
way to improvise.

I swim out of the cave and find a cluster of tall swaying kelp stalks.
I take out my coral knife and cut each stalk at the base. Back in the cave, I
wrap the stalks tightly around the merrow’s wounded tail, tying the ends with a
square knot to keep them secure.

It looks like the bleeding has stopped, but she is still pale and
weak. I’m going to have to find her something to eat.

I swim along the seafloor, gently lifting up the colorful fan-like
corals and searching the sand underneath. In just a few minutes, I have
collected ten violet-shelled scallops. I bring them back to the merrow and open
the shells with the coral knife. The merrow’s eyes open halfway, but they are
distant and unfocused. I hold a scallop up to her lips and she takes a tiny bite.

I keep feeding her, and, after a few minutes, she is able to sit
up. She looks at the ruby-colored eggs. I can tell she is counting them in her
head. There are thirty-three. I counted them twice already as I was feeding
her. I look at the eggs, each glowing faintly from within, and wonder if these
are the very last merrow eggs in all the sea.

“Seagarden,” the merrow says, startling me as she speaks. I look
at her quizzically. “We call it the Seagarden,” she says, indicating the
clockwork seahorse and herself. “It lies in the shadow of a ridge in the sea
that protects it from the eyes of the Deeplight. It’s the last place in the sea
untouched by the Fomori sentinels.”

“I, uh . . . I turned off the Deeplight,” I say, not wanting to
explain that I had smashed it. Her eyes widen, and she is quiet for a long
while.

“Thank you,” she says at last. “That will help make the sea safe
again.” She looks toward the cave entrance, deep in thought.

“What’s wrong?”

I look out the cave entrance. High above the coral, I see the
sweeping light of a Fomori sentinel passing silently over us.

“With the Deeplight off,” she whispers, “the sentinels have
altered their patrols. Eventually one
of them will find the Seagarden.” She sees my horrified expression. “It’s not
your fault. You did a very good thing.”

I peer out of the cave. The sentinel is nowhere in sight. But I
know it’s just a matter of time before it returns.

The merrow is still too weak to swim; and even if she could, I
know she would never leave her eggs if there was any danger nearby. I need to
figure out some way to stop the sentinels.

“What are they looking for?” I ask the merrow.

“Gold,” she says. “Minerals, gems . . . anything the Fomori found
valuable. The sentinels destroy anything in their path and dig up the seafloor
to mine what they want.” I think of the lifeless blue void I saw from the top
of the Deeplight. Then I think of my father stepping out of his boat with empty
fishing nets. How long has this been going on?

“Where do they take the gold when they find it?”

“To a place no one else can go. The Forbidden City.”

“That’s where the Fomori live? If I
did
get there somehow,
could I stop the sentinels?”

“Even if you could stop them, there is something worse.” There is
a tremble in her voice.

“A leviathan?”

“No, far worse than that. It has killed countless leviathans.” My
mouth falls open, and I have to spit out briny water. I think of the dream I
had where my father’s ship was pulled under the sea. I had seen a brief glimpse
of the creature that pulled him down.

“What does it look like? Is it red, with long tentacle arms?” She
looks at me uncertainly, and I know the answer is yes.

“We call it the Rimorosa,” she says. “It is ancient. It is
unstoppable.” I can see from her eyes that she doesn’t want to say any more.
But I still need to figure out a plan. I think back to the submersibles in the
Deeplight. My father must have gotten in one. Did it take him to the Forbidden
City? If so, there must be a way in.

“How do the sentinels get in and out of the Forbidden City?” I
ask.

“There is only one way in, but it is an impossible journey.”

“Impossible? How can the sentinels make it in?”

“The entrance lies beneath the seafloor, on the other side of
three impassable lands. Believe me when I tell you that no living thing will
survive the journey.” Her eyes fall and her face looks pained. “My father was
the last one of us to try.” I put my hand on top of hers. I want to say
something to make it better, but I know that nothing will.

I sit with her in silence for a long while. Her eyes are closed.
She is tired and weak and needs to rest. I ask her one last thing.

“Will you please tell me your name?” She opens her eyes the
tiniest bit and smiles.

“My real name is very long. Nobody has said it in a long time.”
She is quiet for a moment. It must be hard for her to speak, but her voice is
warm and sincere. “When I was young, I met a human girl who looked a lot like
you.” Her eyes close again. She squeezes my hand gently. “She called me Cara.
She said that it means
friend
. You can call me that, if you like.”

“Cara, my name is Merryn. Get some rest. I’ll keep guard over the
cave.”

“Merryn,” she says softly. “Even your names are similar. The other
girl’s name was Meara.” She closes her eyes.

I hold her hand for a while, a wave of confused feelings rushing
through my head.

My mother’s name was Meara.

******

C
ara and
my mother knew each other. Jumbled questions race through my head. There are so
many things I want to know. Just then, I hear a yelping noise from outside and
I peer out of the cave entrance. Swish is watching something in the distance. I
swim out, and the long white beam of a Fomori sentinel passes right over my
face. Through the blinding light of the beam I can see the sentinel tilting
down toward me. I have only a moment to react.

I dive forward, underneath the sentinel, forcing it to turn away
from the cave entrance. I swim straight upward, knocking my head against its
smooth, metal underbelly. If I can just stay in its blind spot I may be able to
buy some time. The sentinel turns to the left, then to the right, sweeping its
beam through the coral in search of me. I take a deep breath from the zephyr
whelk as I try to plan my next move.

Abruptly, the sentinel turns back around and shines its beam into
the cave entrance.

“No!” I scream, bubbles flying up in front of my eyes. With a
quick kick of my legs, I flip myself back toward the rear of the sentinel. I
grab onto its wide fan-like rudder with both hands and kick my legs as hard as
I can, driving its tail downward and its nose up into the air. I can feel it
wrestling with me, trying to turn back around, but I hold on tight, refusing to
let it turn toward the cave.

Suddenly the sentinel is lit up, its hull becoming a brilliant
gleaming gold. Another beam is shining on me from behind. I turn around just in
time to see the other sentinel closing in, its torpedo tubes aimed straight at
me. I see the puff of bubbles out of the corner of my eye as I dive down. The
torpedo misses me and slams into the other sentinel. A blast of water knocks me
against the rock wall above the cave as a shower of shining golden fragments
pours down all around me. Something heavy hits me in the back, taking my breath
away.

Still shaken by the blast, I try to swim toward the second
sentinel. If I can just reach its rudder . . .

But it’s too late. The sentinel backs up and lowers its torpedo
tubes straight at me. There’s nowhere to hide. I close my eyes, bracing for the
blast.

I wince as I hear a loud crunch of metal. When I open my eyes, I
see Swish has bitten into the side of the sentinel and is shaking it back and
forth in his mouth. Splinters of gold fly in all directions as Swish tears
through it as if it were made out of paper.

BOOK: Song of the Deep
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