I feel Faro start forward, and grab hold of his wrist. “Wait. Wait, Faro,” I whisper. The lines of the Mer move uneasily, as if some of them, too, don’t like hearing Saldowr insulted.
“For this reason they must die,” says Ervys, as calmly as if he’s describing the weather. “But because we have no wish to shed blood unless it is absolutely necessary, we will spare you, Faro, even though you are a traitor to Ingo. And your sister, we believe, has been led astray. If you will humbly confess your fault, you may return to us and re-learn what it is to be Mer and to belong truly to Ingo.”
Faro’s body quivers with anger. I reach into the tumult of his mind. Don’t let him provoke you. We need time. Play for time, Faro.
But I’m afraid he won’t. Faro is so proud. I’ve got to make him understand that we must fight for time, never mind what Ervys or anyone else thinks of us. Every precious second gained will take Byblos closer to Saldowr’s cave. She’ll be rousing the Mer as she goes, and the other dolphins. Everyone who doesn’t already belong to Ervys will hear Byblos’ message. I pour my thoughts into Faro’s mind, fighting past the waves of anger and defiance that are rushing through it. Listen to me, Faro. You’ve got to listen to me.
Faro pulls his wrist free of my hand and folds his arms. He stares straight at Ervys.
“So you mean no harm to me or my sister?” he asks.
Conor turns to Faro with a furious, disbelieving expression on his face. I try to signal to him that it’s all right, Faro’s got a plan, but I’m afraid of Ervys’s sharp eyes. Surely Conor can’t believe that Faro’s trying to negotiate with Ervys so he can save his own skin?
No. Almost immediately Conor realises that Faro’s playing for time. His expression relaxes, and he turns back to face Ervys with apparent calm. Elvira faces ahead too, her face very pale and her eyes glittering.
“If you yield to us now, you will come to no harm,” says Ervys. “We have no wish to shed Mer blood.” Very deliberately, Faro looks down at the scar on his tail. Ervys follows his gaze and says, “That is in the past. We Mer must fight together. We cannot be divided against the enemy. Join us, and you will become part of our strength.”
“And yet you taunt me for my blood,” says Faro. I’m stunned. Faro has brought up the subject that he hates so much. Not only that, he’s brought it up in front of Ervys, who tried to shame him for having any trace of human in him at all.
Ervys frowns. He leans forward, scanning Faro’s face. “You forget nothing,” he says.
“Isn’t our nature as Mer to hold on to our memories and pass them to our children’s children?” demands Faro. It’s like a sword fight, only here the blades are words.
“I tell you,” Ervys insists, “if you come to us, we will build a nation in Ingo that will last until our children’s children’s children are ready for Limina. Your sister’s descendants and yours will look back and praise the choice you make today.”
Suddenly Elvira swirls forward. “Do not speak of my children!” she snaps imperiously. Both Ervys and Faro look at her open-mouthed.
“Any children I may have one day are no part of your bargains or of your battles,” she goes on. I have never seen Elvira like this. I’m proud of how bold she is and how fearless. Neither Ervys nor Faro seem to know how to answer her. In one graceful stroke she returns to me and Conor.
“Fantastic, Elvira,” I whisper, and a small pleased smile curves her lips.
Seconds are adding up to minutes. How long can we delay the spear charge? How long can we hold on, waiting for help to come? I look beyond Ervys to where his ranks of supporters hold their bristling spears. There are so many of them. Strong, full-grown Mer men, and youths who will make up in speed what they lack in muscle. Their faces are stern and they’re all listening intently. I sense that they want Faro to come with them. They will want him because he will draw other young Mer to his side. And they won’t want to spill his blood or Elvira’s unless they have to. There is such a deep taboo against it among the Mer. Ervys sent the sharks to tear us apart, well out of sight of the Mer. If we’re killed, all these men will be witnesses.
“You have a choice,” says Ervys. “Choose Ingo, or choose the human world. One choice brings life and the other death. You will make a fine warrior on my left hand, Faro, and your human blood will be forgotten. You will purify yourself fighting for Ingo.”
“Fighting for Ingo?” asks Faro. “But tell me, Ervys, what if I believe that I am already fighting for Ingo?”
“Then your human blood is deceiving you,” says Ervys smoothly. How clever he is – much cleverer than I thought. “Ingo needs every last one of us,” Ervys continues. “She cries out for you to avenge the wrongs done to her. Poison and murder, the theft of our ancestral places, the pollution of our world, the death of our kindred.”
A low growl of agreement ripples through the Mer ranks as they hear Ervys name their grievances.
“Humans have desecrated Ingo. Humans want to tear the heart out of Ingo. Humans value nothing unless they can use it for their own ends. I am offering you a chance that will not come again. Do you choose to fight against us or to fight with us?”
Faro is silent. For the first time, I’m not sure what he is thinking. His thoughts are closed to me, his face unreadable. None of us had expected this. We knew Ervys wanted to destroy us but we didn’t think he’d try to do it as subtly as this, by separating the four of us, Mer from human. Faro’s talked to me so many times about the harm done to Ingo by the human world. Ervys is offering him a powerful temptation. I know Faro won’t take it, I’m sure he won’t give in, but there is still a cold knot of fear in my stomach.
“But if I fight with you, Ervys,” says Faro slowly, as if he’s working something out as he speaks, “If I fight with you, Ervys …” He draws out the words, lingering on each one. And just when the knot in my stomach seems to be rising into my throat and choking me, he glances sideways, eyes lowered, and slips me an almost imperceptible wink.
“You see, if I fight with you, Ervys, if I become one of your followers, like …” He breaks off to scan the lines of Mer. “… like Talek there – or Mortarow – and is that Hagerawl I see there? Greetings, Hagerawl! And you, Morlappyer – and Mentenour. It’s a long time since you and I swam with the dolphins, Mentenour. And Bannerys, my friend, we two faced the orca side by side when he forgot that we were Mer—”
“Yes, yes,” says Ervys impatiently. An uneasy stir runs along his ranks. They don’t like Faro naming them and the past they’ve shared. It makes us all seem too real and too close. I suppose it’s easier to kill people if you can pretend to yourself that they’re not really people at all. But if they know your names, you can’t pretend any more. Faro is even cleverer than Ervys.
“As I was saying,” Faro continues, “if I were to fight with you, then there would be a difficulty which I cannot find my way around. No matter how hard I try, I fail.”
“Perhaps I can help you,” says Ervys. His teeth show, but I don’t think he’s smiling.
“I would have to fight against my friends,” says Faro. His voice quickens. He’s not playing with Ervys any longer: this is real.
“Understand me, Ervys, I am Saldowr’s scolhyk and his holyer. I will never become a clopen for you, or a harlotwas. Saldowr says that human blood must cross Ingo to bring peace and healing to Ingo and to the Mer. I say it too.”
I have no idea what a clopen is or a harlotwas, but I’m pretty sure these are not compliments. Ervys’s face is thunderous. Without another word to Faro, he turns to his followers and shouts, “You have heard him refuse my offer of fellowship. He rejects Ingo, and the Mer are witnesses to it.”
Some of the followers raise their spears threateningly. A low rumble of voices comes from the massed ranks. In a moment, Ervys will give the signal, and they’ll advance on us. They will kill us now. I know it’s going to happen but I still can’t believe it. I’ve always been alive. I don’t know how to imagine anything else.
“When
they start coming, dive. It’s our only chance,” murmurs Conor.
It’s not a chance at all, and he knows it. If we dive they’ll rain the spear down on our backs.
Ervys surveys his followers and then swims a little closer to them. Slowly he holds up his left arm and stretches out his hand. He beckons Mortarow, and for the first time I realise that Mortarow is carrying two spears. One for him and one for …
Yes. Mortarow lifts one of the spears, balances it above his shoulder, draws back his arm and sends the spear soaring through the water towards Ervys. The spear does not travel fast, but its aim is sure. Ervys moves aside. The muscles of his arms and shoulders ripple as he reaches forward, catches the falling spear by its shaft, lifts its weight and holds it high in triumph.
He wants to be part of the killing. He isn’t going to leave it to his men. If there is blood guilt for Faro and Elvira’s deaths, they will be able to put it on him. How clever Ervys is. The answering roar from his men is much louder now. He is their leader and they will follow him, as soon as he gives the signal.
Ervys turns, balancing the spear’s shaft across the palm of his hand. He controls its weight perfectly.
“They’ve been practising,” mutters Conor.
Suddenly Ervys jabs the spear towards us. I can’t help flinching away. Ervys catches the spear again, and laughs. He’s playing with us.
“Not so brave now, when it comes to it,” he taunts.
“You have more to fear than we do,” calls Elvira. “Death is better than living with the curse of having shed your brothers’ and sisters’ blood.”
“You’re no sister of mine!” shouts Ervys angrily, but I see his tail twitch, and another ripple of unease among his followers. I am mesmerised by the dull gleam of the spear’s point. It sways a little in the water as Ervys changes his grip on the shaft.
“I wish he’d get on with it,” mutters Conor. “Listen, Saph, I’m going for the shaft. If I can drag it down he won’t be able to aim.”
“No, Con, he’ll kill you!”
“He’s going to kill us anyway.”
Ervys’s muscles are bulging. He is lifting the spear. His powerful tail lashes from side to side. He isn’t going to throw the spear. He’s going to charge us, with all the power and weight of his body behind the thrust—
“Ervys!”
A voice slashes through the tense, waiting silence. “Ervys!”
We all turn. To the right of us, leaping through the water, comes a dolphin with one of the Mer riding on its back. There is something in the Mer man’s hand: a three-pronged weapon with a short shaft. A trident. I can’t see his face because his hair swirls across it as the dolphin leaps again. But I know the dolphin – I am sure it’s her—
“Ervys!”
The voice is hoarse, desperate but commanding. All over my body the skin tingles. Ervys hesitates, spear in hand, looking at the dolphin, then quickly at us as if to judge whether or not he has time for the charge, then back at the dolphin which is almost on him now.
Yes, it’s Byblos. Dear Byblos, coming back to our rescue with one of the Mer on her back. She swoops down through the water and at that instant Ervys makes up his mind. He raises his spear and plunges it into the dolphin’s breast. The next moment he has disappeared in a thrash of foam as Byblos arches, trying to pull herself off the point of the spear.
I see Ervys’s arm, bulging with muscle, still gripping his weapon. There are a few seconds of tumult, and then Ervys is free. He has his spear in his hand and it is crimson up to the shaft with Byblos’ blood. I stare, horrified, as the crimson dissolves into the water. A plume of blood is pouring from Byblos’ wound. Her body convulses.
The man on her back has slipped off and has his arms around her. He clings to her side as she heaves and shudders. I think he’s trying to whisper into her ear. His back is to me and I still can’t see his face. There is uproar among Ervys followers and his voice rises above it, shouting them down, rallying them. But dolphin blood fills the water and we can hardly see them. Byblos arches one more time, heaving for breath and life, and then collapses.
“Ervys!” shouts the man once more. “You have killed the dolphin!” and he swings around so that we all see his face.
“Oh my God,” whispers Conor. “Saph, it’s Dad.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Dad.”
Dad doesn’t even glance at us. He has his back to us and the trident raised, ready. Dad’s tail lashes as he edges sideways. Ervys is moving into position too. They start to circle, prowling through the bloody water. Byblos’ body is already sinking away to the sea bed. Some of Ervys’s followers hang back, raising their hands to their foreheads in the traditional sign against evil. But others are gliding forward, spears at the ready.
“Sapphire, they’re coming!” says Elvira.
“I know.” I can’t take my eyes off Dad. He must have sprung on to Byblos’ back as soon as he heard we needed help. He came straight to our rescue. For the first time, his Mer body doesn’t look strange and alien to me. Dad belongs here in Ingo, but he is still my father. He’s ready to battle with Ervys for our sake.
Their circling has brought them round so that Dad is facing me. His eyes track every shift in Ervys’s position. I can’t see Ervys’s face now, but muscles bulge threateningly in his arms and shoulders. My heart thumps with tension. The spear is so much longer than the trident, but Dad is moving in, challenging Ervys.
“Look, Sapphire, look!” Elvira clutches my arm and points, and I tear my gaze away from Dad and Ervys. “Our people,” cries Elvira triumphantly. “I knew they would come.”
Our people. Mer men and women plunge towards us, hair flying through the water. Dolphins stop dead, flinging their riders straight into battle, and then the dolphins themselves charge, hurtling into Ervys’s men from behind before the spears can turn to strike them. Bull seals rear up, showing teeth and claws. Far behind them comes the lumbering shadow of a basking shark and ranks of jellyfish. A herd of seahorses skitters through the water and around the heads of Ervys’s warriors, half blinding them. Velvet swimmer crabs advance, snapping their claws. Byblos has roused Ingo. Oh Byblos. That plume of blood – the way you arched in the water …
“All Ingo is on the move,” murmurs Elvira. Her eyes glow. “More will come, Sapphire!”
But we’re still heavily outnumbered. Where is Saldowr? Surely he’ll come soon. He’s got to. Ervys’s followers have swung round to face the new challenge, but they haven’t hurled a single spear yet. The dolphins and bull seals fall back again, waiting. Even the sea horses retreat and hang in a cloud by the head of the basking shark. An eerie silence fills the water.
“Forward!” yells Ervys. “Forward! Attack them, you fools! Use your spears!”
But still no one moves. It’s as if Byblos’ blood has cast a spell on them. Or maybe they’re hypnotised by the slow circling of Ervys and my father. Maybe the battle is suspended until those two have finished their duel.
My father has his trident and Ervys has his spear. But a spear has a longer reach than a trident. They are not equally matched. Dad never takes his eyes off Ervys’s face. He anticipates every move Ervys makes. Each time Ervys jabs with his spear, Dad has already slipped sideways. He’s waiting for his chance. He needs to get close in, under Ervys’s spear arm, in order to thrust the trident into him. Ervys knows it too, and he keeps parrying Dad’s trident with the shaft of the spear to hold him off.
Suddenly the spell breaks. One of Ervys’s army rushes forward in a thrash of foam, spear at the ready, poised to attack Dad. Conor and I hurl ourselves forward, but Ervys is too quick for us.
“Leave it, you fool! Get back! He’s mine!” he yells, and the Mer man falls back.
Conor’s still pushing forward, but Faro grabs his arm, “What are you doing?”
“I’ve got to help Dad.”
“No. You’ll get in the way and Ervys will kill him under your arm. Sapphire, don’t move. Your father will take his ey
es off Ervys. Wait.”
The two men continue to circle each other. Thrust, parry. Thrust, parry. The muscles on their arms stand out in knots. Their faces are drawn with concentration. The Mer stand watching, fists clenched, lips drawn back so that their teeth show. Suddenly I recognise Mellina among them. Her face is anguished and she’s clutching a lump of rock, with which she clearly intends to smash Ervys’s skull if she gets half a chance. For the first time, I like her.
I don’t even see the shark coming. It’s behind me, and all I hear is a strangled cry of warning, I don’t even know where from. A split second sixth sense makes me turn. It’s a single shark, and a small one, aiming straight for my chest. I hurl myself sideways, and the shark just fails to turn in time. I’m thrown aside, my arm and shoulder seared by the shark’s skin, but I’m alive. The next second the shark whips round, seizes me in its jaws and starts to shake me like a puppet. I’m so shocked that my brain stops telling me what’s happening. There’s another blow, so close that my head snaps back and the water explodes around me. I’m falling down and down, helpless.
Faro and Conor catch me. My eyes are full of blood, but I feel both my arms being grabbed. My vision clears and I see them, Faro on one side, Conor on the other. Through the turmoil of the water I see four dolphins attacking the shark, beating it off. There is blood in the water: my blood, and maybe the shark’s too.
“It’s all right.” Elvira’s voice drifts out of the blackness that is filling my head. “She’s not badly hurt. They’re just surface wounds.”
“She was lucky that it was a bull shark, not a Great White,” says another voice, Faro’s I think, but I’m so sick and dizzy now that I can’t be sure.
Surface wounds … a bull shark … The words echo as I come back to consciousness. But where’s Conor? Faro is beside me, supporting me. Elvira’s binding thongs of weed around my arms. Where’s Conor?
“Can you swim, Sapphire?” Faro demands urgently. “Help her, Elvira, I must get to Conor,” and with a powerful swerve of his tail, he disappears into the boiling mass of water, blood, Mer, seals, dolphins and spears.