The Deep. Helen Dunmore

      “I didn’t mean to hurt you, little sister,” he says.

      “I’m all right. We could have died, couldn’t we? I think you saved my life.”

      Faro glances around quickly as if someone might overhear him. “This place could eat us alive and still be hungry,” he whispers. “Its spirit is bad – drokobereth. We must hurry.”

      I glance around fearfully. Now the rocks look as if they are clawing the water, reaching out for prey.

      “Where’s Morlader gone?”

      Faro points ahead where the rocks rise up sheer, towering into an under-sea mountain range. I thought that the Bawns near our cove were huge, but these are ten times higher. They are bleak and barren. They look as if they’ve crowded together deliberately, so there won’t be a way through them. They don’t want us here.

      “Morlader has gone ahead of us, to the Assembly,” says Faro.

      “Where’s that?”

      “Farther on. It’s no use being afraid of the mountains, Sapphire. There’s no other way except through them.”

      “I’m not afraid!”

      “Of course you are,” says Faro. His face is very serious. “And so am I.”

      “If it’s so dangerous, why do the Mer hold their Assemblies on these mountains?”

      “Not on the mountains: in them. Our Assembly cave is deep in the heart of the mountains. Our ancestors chose it, because we could hide from our enemies there for a thousand years if need be. We could defend ourselves with only a handful of warriors.”

      “What enemies?”

      Faro glances round again, quickly, cautiously. “We can’t talk about it here. Come on, Sapphire. It’s not solid rock, there’s a way through. We’d be safer approaching from the south, but we haven’t got time to swim all the way round now.”

      “Do you know the way?”

      “Of course,” says Faro. I’m sure I can hear doubt in his voice, but there’s no choice. We’ve got to go on.

      “Careful,” whispers Faro. “Even a scratch from these rocks can turn to poison.” We swim forward very slowly, gliding cautiously around the razor-sharp flanks of the rocks.

      Before long the rocks have closed around us. Ahead, the rising mountain blocks our sight. There’s no clear water anywhere, only channels between dangers. I’ve never felt cold in Ingo before, but these rocks cast an icy shadow. There is no sign of life. No flickering fish, no glowing sea anemones, no graceful herds of sea horses. There isn’t even any seaweed clinging to the rocks. The valleys are empty and the peaks bare. Below us the sand is dark, ashy grey.

      We swim on, barely disturbing the water. Now the rocks on either side of us look as if they’ve been split open by a giant hammer.

      “The tides did this when they broke loose,” says Faro, steering me past a shattered fang of coral. We slow down even more, so that we can ease our bodies through the wreckage without getting trapped in it. Besides, I don’t want to disturb these waters, for fear of what might come out.

      “Why can’t we swim higher up in clear water?” I whisper.

      “We have to go this way,” says Faro. “Mind your hand, Sapphire! That’s where the eels have their holes.”

      I snatch my hand back, shuddering. So there is something alive here. Roger told me once that divers have to watch out for conger eels. They live in crevices like these. If they get your arm in their jaws, they won’t let go. What else is hidden away in the holes and crevices?

      “Search every crook and granny,” I murmur.

      “What?”

      “It’s meant to be ‘Search every nook and cranny’ – Conor got it wrong when he was little and so we always say it like that.”

      “Why would you search a granny – you mean, your mother’s mother?”

      “Never mind, Faro, it’s not important.”

      It’s like trying to tell a joke at a funeral. Everything is so eerily silent. The split rock glimmers like oil. At the corner of my eye something flickers.

      “Faro!”

      But when I turn my head, there’s nothing.

      “Faro, I’m sure someone – something was there.”

      A flash of alarm crosses Faro’s face.

      “Just keep swimming,” he whispers in my ear. “Pretend you haven’t seen them.” He takes my hand and pulls me with him. “Don’t look back.”

      I wasn’t going to look back. I swear I wasn’t. But somehow my head turns, and the flicker of movement behind me becomes real, solid—

      “Faro, look! Look at her!”

      “No, Sapphire!”

      “But she’s so beautiful!”

      So beautiful. She’s sitting on the knife-sharp edge of the rock, but it doesn’t seem to hurt her. Her shining hair drifts around her shoulders like a cloak of glass. Her smile glows with welcome and her arms are open wide as if to embrace us.

      “But, Faro, she’s Mer. She’s one of your people. Why won’t you look at her?”

      Her eyes fix mine. They are huge and hungry. She wants me. She wants me to come to her.

      “She’s not Mer!” says Faro, his voice full of revulsion.

      “Just look for a minute. She’s so lovely,” I plead with him.

      “All right then, Sapphire, you look at her if you want to! Look!”

      Her beautiful face, her sloping shoulders and swirling hair – her—

      “Look, Sapphire!”

      She twists her body free of the rock. She pushes off with her hands. She’s coming towards us…

      Where a tail should be if she were Mer, where legs would be if she were human, there is a claw. A single claw, steel blue and gleaming. An open claw that snaps as the creature swirls towards us—

      Faro raises both hands, fingers crossed, and touches them to his forehead. The creature stalls in the water.

      “Get behind me,” he mutters, “and whatever you do, don’t look at it again.” Very slowly he begins to swim backwards, still holding his hands in place and shielding me with his body. I scull myself backwards with trembling hands, keeping my eyes fixed on Faro’s back. I won’t look at – at it – again. It’s not going to make me look at it. A faint sound drifts through the water. Clack. Clack. The claw, I think. It’s opening and shutting the claw, getting ready to snap—

      “Don’t be scared,” murmurs Faro. “Feel behind you.” My back is against the wall now. A sheer, gleaming wall of rock that blocks our way.

      Clack, clack.

      Surely the sound is fainter now?

      “Faro – Faro – has it gone?”

      “Wait.”

      We hang still in the water, backs to the wall, and wait.

      “Don’t look, Sapphire. It’s not safe yet.”

      Clack, clack.

      It’s almost gone. At last Faro’s shoulders slacken with relief. His hands drop to his sides.

      “It’s gone back to its hole,” he says. “But we’ve got to be quick. There’ll be more of the Claw Creatures around here and I can’t hold off more than one at a time.”

      “Can’t