Magnus Fin and the Ocean Quest (8 page)

For a long time Miranda and Magnus Fin swam. Time itself had little meaning under the water. Magnus Fin didn’t know if he had been underwater for hours or weeks. He didn’t know if he had travelled through this dark stinking water for a short distance or for hundreds of miles. He hoped the boys they had dragged to the surface had made it safely home to the land – but even that thrashing and kicking and heaving seemed to have happened a long time ago.

Finally Miranda spread her flippers and circled her body round to slow down. Now Magnus Fin had a chance to look around. His penetrating blue eyes shone through the murky water to land upon a huge cavernous rock, hung with thick plankton and shells.

“We have arrived,” Miranda said, her voice a faint whisper, her body old and tired looking. “This is King Neptune’s cavern.”

“Like my room,” he said, and for a moment the memory of his fishing net and shells, his box of treasures and bones, flashed through his mind, but like a vague dream from long ago. Gazing through the hazy water he saw that this beautiful cavern, decked with coral, pearls and shells, was far, far greater than his own simple Neptune’s Cave. This cavern on the ocean bed
had a rock for a door. A million shells decorated the entranceway. It should have been splendid but an eerie stillness and thick green hue gave Neptune’s cavern a ghostly feeling. A shiver ran the length of Magnus Fin’s spine.

“We have come a long way, Fin, and a deep way,” his grandmother said, breaking in on his thoughts. And suddenly Fin understood she was going to leave him. Already she was swimming away from him. She was going to leave him in this strange place all alone.

“Some things, Fin, have to be done alone.” She propelled herself backwards, summoning up every last ounce of strength to stop herself falling under the spell of sleep. “If I entered this place I would fall asleep immediately. Look into my eyes, Fin. See how weak I have become.”

Fin saw and a great pity welled up in him. He wanted to go with her.

“You, with your human strength, have the power to stay awake. You are living between the worlds, Magnus Fin – you have a chance to heal the sea. And you proved your strength when you found the courage to rescue the drowning boys. Now this test must be faced alone. I have brought you this far. I must go. Later I will return, Fin. Go now. Please wake Neptune. Please, son of Ragnor, bring back the waves.”

“But how – stop!” shouted Magnus Fin. “What am I supposed to do?” He tried to reach for his grandmother but already she was gone.

Magnus Fin was alone, a salmon bone in his small hand and the great rock of Neptune before him.

Mrs McLeod was in her kitchen making a
late-night
cup of tea. The schoolteacher’s house stood at the top of the village, and from the kitchen window she had a great view down to the sea. She hardly noticed the kettle had boiled; she was so busy staring out at the silver pathway the full moon made over the ocean and the red pathway made by the setting sun.

“Might there be such a thing as a biscuit?” said her husband, popping his head round the kitchen door. “Full moon always brings on the munchies. Not to mention that this hard-working fisherman has been out at sea all day. I’m starving.”

Mrs McLeod laughed then plonked a whole packet of caramel wafers on a plate. “I was miles away,” she said, “imagining a world under the sea. Must be these children of mine with their wild imaginations. Ha! They’ll have me believing in mermaids next!”

Mrs McLeod brought the tea things through to the sitting room and sank down on the sofa with a sigh, and then a yawn, and then a little shiver up her spine.

“Johnny,” she said, looking across at her husband who was busy dunking a biscuit into his
tea, “that moon out there does something funny to me. Gives me the heebie-jeebies, so it does. Looks like the moon is right in this room. Looks like the moon is sitting right on my biscuit.”

She bit into her caramel wafer then sighed again. “You know we’ve got this new boy in the school?” she went on, cupping her hands around her teacup. “Comes from America. Tarkin he’s called. How’s that for a name? Remember I told you about him? Earrings and all that. Well, he said he saw a mermaid. Really. Thing is, he told it as though it was true. Had the whole class so quiet you could have heard a pin drop. Made me all shivery. I didn’t know what to say.”

“That’s not like you, Carol.”

“I know. He’s a strange one. First that Magnus Fin. I mean, he’s strange enough – always picking bones and stuff off the beach and standing on his own at breaktimes, not to mention his eyes. Now I’ve got an American called Tarkin to cope with who, I kid you not, wears two earrings, a necklace, believes in mermaids and has become a great pal of our Magnus Fin. Other boys their age talk about football and Nintendos. Not them, they talk about mermaids. They’re just not normal somehow.”

“Better than them all looking the same, thinking the same, doing exactly the same thing. I like Tarkin. Never met him of course, but from what you’ve told me, Carol, I like him. Magnus Fin’s not bad either.” Johnny bit off another corner of his biscuit and ate it, making little satisfying noises as he did so.

“Um … Johnny?” his wife said.

“Aye, Carol. Fire away. What is it?”

“See when you’re out in the boat. You know … did you, I mean, have you … um, did you ever see a mermaid?” Carol McLeod sat up straight. The full moon shone on her lap.

“A mermaid? No,” he said, “not yet anyway. But I’ve seen many a selkie. Aye, I’ve seen them. Many times. Oh, Carol, I could tell you some stories.”

Carol didn’t know what to say. She coughed. She spluttered. “Really?”

“I certainly could. I didn’t think you were interested but I’d love to tell you a story from the sea.”

Carol McLeod looked at her husband, then, not quite sure what she was letting herself in for, nodded, sat back and made herself comfortable with the full moon on her lap.

“Well, Carol, once upon a time,” said Johnny, “far out in the cold North Sea, there lived a selkie …”

Magnus Fin stared at the great rock barring the entrance to Neptune’s cavern. With his
torch-light
pupils he could make out, through the dark water, massive swaying fronds of seaweed. The cavern seemed to be shaped like a great conch shell. Through the dimness he could see that some of the cavern was made of an orange stone. Miranda told him it was amber. She was swimming away from him but still her thoughts called to him.

“I must leave you here, Fin. We ocean dwellers have tried all we can; it is said only a human who can live under the sea can now open the door to Neptune’s cavern. You know both worlds, Magnus Fin. Your mother was born on the land. You are our only hope. I must return to our valley; it is not safe for me here. Remember the stone around your neck, son of Ragnor. If you come into danger it will give you strength. Goodbye, Magnus Fin.”

By now Magnus had floated up to the great rock, and though his heart was thumping he searched for a hole in the rock, for a place to insert his bone key. He felt for the place, his hand frantically patting the rough surface of the rock door. “I can’t find a keyhole!” he shouted in his thoughts as his grandmother swam away from him.

“It is there,” she called out, “in the middle …” but her thoughts were too faint now to make out any more.

Magnus Fin had never felt so desolate in his whole life. Around him was nothing but hundreds of miles of dark water. For a moment he felt an almighty fear rise up from the soles of his feet as though it would swallow him completely. Magnus grasped his moon-stone and the fear subsided. Still the boy floated alone, treading water under the sea, until the overpowering fear was gone.

Braver now, he turned around and banged with his fist on the great rock door of Neptune’s cavern. The bone was so tiny, the door so huge. Never would he find the keyhole. He heard his knock reverberate within the cavern, growing louder and louder each time. To his ears the knocking sounded like thunder, but no one or nothing answered. Now he thumped louder and called out, “NEPTUNE!” Still no one came. No one heard him. His heart gave a leap. In the middle of the mighty door, suddenly, he spied a tiny keyhole.

Magnus Fin peered through the keyhole with his green eye and saw, inside the great hallway, a thousand creatures of the deep – all of them sound asleep. Some were floating, some curled up on the watery floor. There were salmon and herring, eels, crabs, seals and dolphins, porpoises and lobsters – all of them floating in sleep.

Magnus Fin’s heart was pounding so loudly now, he thought it might wake Neptune. He fumbled with the salmon bone. He tried to pull it up through the water. His eyelids drooped. He
felt an overwhelming urge to sleep. He recalled Miranda’s pleas and fumbled with the bone. Although the bone was tiny it seemed, suddenly, to weigh a ton. It took every ounce of strength to drag it up through the water towards the keyhole.

The effort was sapping him. More than anything he wanted to lie down and sleep. Why, he wondered, did his grandmother leave him? And where had she gone? And why did he have to do this alone? He was only eleven, wasn’t he? He was still a child. As he heaved at the bone, now with two hands, he recalled his father’s words: he was both child and man now – or neither child nor man – he was between worlds, and this thing he would have to do alone. He had come this far. He was at the gates of the great King Neptune’s cavern and he couldn’t even manage to put a key into a keyhole. He could save boys from drowning but he couldn’t open a door. Whatever task he had to do it seemed he had failed already.

“Help!” he shouted, turning round frantically, circling his arms through the water and searching for Miranda. But even with his torch-light eyes beaming through the murky sea, Miranda was nowhere to be seen.

“Help me!” he called again, not wanting this adventure any more, feeling too young, too lonely, too weak. He couldn’t lift the bone up to the keyhole. He wasn’t strong enough. If it was a dream he wanted to wake up.

“Help!” he shouted, tears now stinging his eyes. But no one came. Magnus Fin banged frantically on the cavern door, over and over. It rattled. It
shook. But no amount of banging could wake the sleeping creatures inside.

Exhausted, his little fist uncurled. The salmon bone floated down through the dim water. Magnus Fin’s head nodded, his eyelids felt so heavy. A great weariness stole over him, as though he had suddenly been pierced by an arrow of sleep. Magnus Fin slumped down at the gates to Neptune’s cavern, closed his eyes, and slept.

When Magnus Fin awoke, he found himself face to face with a sharp-toothed great white shark.

“Was the little boy dreaming then?” said the shark, curling his wide lips and smiling horribly. “Hmmm? Was the little wee boy with the little two legs having a little kip then? Hmmm?”

Magnus Fin wriggled backwards, staring at the glinting-eyed lisping creature, who moved closer. The shark’s razor-sharp teeth flashed. Magnus edged back further, but the creature came even closer till Magnus felt the back of his head press against Neptune’s door. The terrible creature was inches away and edging nearer – as though he’d eat the boy up in one quick bite. Miranda had said he should hold the moon-stone, but the shark had pressed its body against Magnus Fin’s hands.

“Oh? Little human boy got little handies too? Oooh? So teeny-weeny. Hmm? Handies and feeties? Hmm? Trying to open the door, was you? Hmm? Neptune still fast asleep then? Silly Neptune. The little boy lost the little key then? Hmm? Stupid little human boy.”

If this was a nightmare it had gone on long enough. Magnus Fin wanted to shout out, to call for his dad, but no sound came. He opened his mouth like a fish underwater, but could not
speak. Horrified, he watched the menacing shark dart down to the seabed, flick up the floating salmon bone with its snout, catch it between its sharp teeth and swallow it.

“Mm! Nice,” he said, smacking together his terrible jaws. Then, changing his tone, he mocked, “Daddy’s not here.” The ugly creature lisped and hissed like a snake. Quick as lightning the shark wound its tail fast around the boy’s legs and hauled him up. “You’re coming with me, little two legs. You’re coming to a really big palace. The king will like you.”

Magnus Fin grabbed at the tail and tried to wrench it off his legs, but it was clamped fast around him as hard as iron.

Now the shark flicked his tail from side to side, hurtling the boy back and forth through the water. “Splish-splash,” jeered the shark as though this was some kind of funfair ride. “Oooh, splishie-splash!”

Then the shark took off, speeding through the dark water with his prisoner locked in a tail wrench behind him. The shark swam much faster than Miranda had done. Even with his captive wriggling and squirming in the hold of his tail, the shark ploughed menacingly through the murky waters at great speed.

“Home sweet home,” said the shark at last. “Now you’ll see a real king.” His horrible babyish lisp had gone. He uncurled his tail and hurtled Magnus Fin through the water. The boy landed on a jagged stone and would have hurt himself badly had the water not slowed him down.

“Meet his most powerful majesty – the king.” The sugary, babyish speech was now hard and cutting. With his tail the shark flicked open the massive gold-studded gates that stood in front of the place where the boy was now lying.

Magnus Fin looked up in a daze. This palace was far bigger than Neptune’s cavern. The front wall was so huge Magnus Fin couldn’t see the top of it. The palace gates were so wide Magnus Fin couldn’t see an end to them. The shark’s tail spun out and flicked the boy inside the gates, as if it was a cricket bat and Magnus was a ball. He bounced over the threshold in slow watery motion.

Magnus Fin landed in the corner of a vast room studded all round with sharp jewels. From doorways and corridors, tiger sharks, eels, skates, killer whales and lobsters patrolled. All eyed the human child with curiosity and suspicion.

As Magnus Fin lay with the back of his head pressed against a ruby he heard a massive yawn shudder through the palace. Magnus watched, terrified, as the heads of every creature turned swiftly in the direction of the mighty yawn. The gargantuan groaning yawn came again. A sound like thunder echoed through the palace. It – whatever it was – was coming closer. The ground that Magnus lay upon quaked. He clutched at his moon-stone and though it couldn’t take away the fear completely it gave him some feeling of strength.

Thousands of crabs scuttled frantically over the floor, first to the left, then to the right, sweeping, dusting, polishing, scrubbing, anxious to appear
busy. Magnus Fin lay slumped in the great hallway, shaking till he thought his teeth would crumble.

The palace walls shook with the vibration of the groan. The lobsters shuddered. The crabs quaked. The sharks shivered. The killer whales glided forward menacingly like submarines, their white eye-patches glowing. The king was coming in their trail.

Magnus Fin breathed deeply in the new way he now had of breathing, the underwater way. Still clutching the stone his father had given him, the blinding numbing fear left him, and in its place came a feeling of strength and curiosity for what would happen next.

He thought of his father. Would he be in his cave with the wood smoke drifting over the water? He thought of his mother, in bed, afraid to show her haggard face. He thought of the seal people and the sound of their singing and weeping. He thought of all the sleeping fish he had seen in Neptune’s cavern. He thought of Miranda. This was no dream – he knew that now. Which meant the beautiful Miranda
was
his grandmother, and though she had gone he was sure she would be back. He felt a warm courage fill his heart.

The monster groaned again.