“I’ve got your rope,” Ferdie told her. “We can pull you up in seconds, can’t we, Oskie?”
“Yep, we can,” said Oskar.
They went over the code of rope tugs they had agreed on and then it was time to go. Tod managed a brief smile and gave the PathFinder sign for “okay”: an O formed by placing the tip of her index finger to the tip of her thumb. Oskar and Ferdie returned it. Then solemnly they watched their friend as she walked into the sea. They saw the water close over her dark hair, her elf-lock float briefly upon the surface, and then all trace of her was gone.
PART XI
TREADING THE PATH
As if in a dream, Tod walked along the gently sloping seabed, the weights keeping her feet easily on the sand. Rays of sunlight shone down through the water showing flashes of silver as small fish darted away. Tod moved slowly, looking out for the markers that would tell her she was on the right path. Visibility was not good: every step sent up fine clouds of sand that swirled about her. After negotiating her way around a small colony of rocks, Tod saw something that looked like an underwater tree. She headed toward it, and as she approached she realized with a thrill of excitement that it was the first of the marker posts, made not of wood like the one on the beach, but a smooth, dull, copper-colored metal, just like her StarChaser. The post was completely clear of barnacles and weeds, apart from a large frond attached to its top, which waved gently as if beckoning her onward.
Tod was jubilant: she had found the path! The path along which many hundreds of years ago her ancestors had trekked to safety, or so they had thought—and the path along which so many young PathFinders had once taken their last journey.
Resolutely, Tod pushed that last thought from her mind. She stopped beside the post and looked up at the thin snake of the rope glistening with air bubbles, rising to meet the dark underbelly of Vega some thirty feet above. The boat looked like a small whale, broad and tubby, and Tod felt a rush of affection for its plump solidity and for her friends within it, watching out for her. She gave a tug on the rope to let Ferdie know she had found a marker post, and in reply she saw the little pink flipper of Ferdie’s hand break the surface and do an excited wave. Tod smiled. It was good to know she wasn’t alone.
As the seabed sloped ever downward, the light level dropped, but to compensate for this, so did the intervals between the marker posts. Tod was impressed. It seemed to her that her ancestors had intended to make many trips back to their starship. Maybe, she thought, they were planning to repair it, and to continue living in it under the sea. It was, after all, their home and had been their world for many generations.
Tod walked slowly onward, trying to imagine how it must have been to live one’s entire life on a starship. At the very moment she was wondering what the PathFinder actually looked like, as if in reply to her thoughts, she saw a huge, dark shape ahead. At first sight it looked like a massive rock, but as she drew nearer, a pair of marker posts set together like a gateway told Tod it was much more than that. With a feeling of awe, she stepped between the posts.
Tod found herself standing on the edge of a pit. This, she thought, is the crater that the PathFinder made when it crashed. A swathe of goose bumps washed over her at the thought of what lay ahead. She looked up, hoping to see the underside of Vega, but she was too deep; all she saw was the darkness of water and the beam of her FlashLight fading before it reached the surface. She gave two tugs of the rope to show she had found the PathFinder and received two in reply. Then, with her heart beating fast, she set off, slipping and sliding down a steep drop toward the hull of the PathFinder: a massive carapace covered with clouded portholes, topped with battered fins and debris.
At the foot of the slope was an opening: a dark gash revealing layers of metal curling back like delicate fern fronds. On either side of this were the last two marker posts, topped with medusae—plantlike animals with long waving tendrils sporting delicate tufts on the ends. Tod stood for some moments on the threshold of the ship. She touched her Charm bracelets for luck—and to remind her of the Wizard Tower and why she was doing this—then she took a step forward. A tug on the rope as it caught on the metal told Tod that it was time to disconnect from her friends. She untied the rope from her belt, gave three tugs to warn Ferdie and fastened it to one of the marker posts.
Feeling utterly alone, she entered the home of her ancestors.
INTO THE METAL FISH
Tod felt as though she were in a sacred space. It reminded her of the Great Chamber of the Orm—the resting place of the last Orm Egg before it was stolen. There was a stillness, a sense of lives lived and lost. Keeping in her head the plan from The Path, Tod set off, walking over soft loose sand, which covered all kinds of strange lumps and bumps. Pushing away thoughts of the bones of the massacred PathFinders and the marauding beast that had killed them, Tod slowly wove her way through a forest of lattice uprights, heading toward the stern. The image of the Orm Egg waiting there in its pod drew her steadily onward.
Stepping slowly and carefully, painfully aware that she might well be treading on the remains of her ancestors beneath the sand, Tod traversed the cathedral-like space of the PathFinder. At last she came to a sheer face of metal on which swathes of medusae with long trailing fronds hung down and great clumps of goose barnacles popped their long necks out of their shells and eyeballed her. This, Tod was sure, must be the stern bulkhead of the starship.
From the starship plan, Tod knew the only entrance to the tail section was toward the top of the ship. She took out some of the fishing weights from her pockets, laid them on a rock and then pulled herself up on the slippery fronds. As Tod ascended the bulkhead, she realized that she was drifting through the PathFinder just as her ancestors had once done on their journey to the stars.
Tod was two-thirds up when her hand disappeared deep into a clump of medusae; she lost her balance, tumbled through the bulkhead and fell out the other side. She somersaulted twice, recovered her equilibrium and caught her water-laden breath in a gasp. Before her was a seemingly Magykal space, full of drifting green pinpoints of light wandering like lazy Sprites. She floated for some minutes, entranced at the sight until some of the “Sprites” began to float toward her. Tod’s delight rapidly faded as the “Sprites” drew near and she saw an army of bony teeth advancing upon her. The teeth belonged to tiny, vicious-looking fish, each of which dangled before its toothy open mouth a glowing green light. In moments, Tod was surrounded.
The fish swam slowly around her, regarding her with wide, unblinking eyes. It occurred to Tod that, with her FlashLight, the fish might be thinking that she was one of them. Taking courage from that, Tod dangled the FlashLight before her and took a step forward. The forest of teeth parted respectfully to let the Big Fish pass through. Tod began to propel herself down through the tail section, her now devoted followers shadowing her every move. Halfway down, Tod saw a dark space in the hull: a hole cut neatly in the metal. Thinking that this might be an entrance to an Orm pod, she swam up to it and shone her FlashLight into the hole. To Tod’s astonishment, the light showed something familiar, yet utterly unexpected—a tunnel into the rock ending in a watery, misty Vanishing Point. She knew at once that this must be one of the drowned Ancient Ways that Marwick had told her about. She wondered what would happen if one of the Sprite fish swam into it. Would it too travel the Way, maybe to end up floundering in a waterless Hub? She imagined piles of dead Sprite fish blocking up a tunnel and thought how wonderfully weird the Ways were—and how much she wanted them to stay that way. The presence of the Way made Tod feel much happier—if she got trapped, there was an easy exit. She took one more look at the Vanishing Point, eerily beautiful in the beam of the FlashLight, then continued her downward journey.
Not much farther down Tod reached what seemed to be the floor of the starship. Miserably, she stared down at the sand beneath her feet—where had the Orm pod gone? As if in reply, the beam of her FlashLight caught the bright orange section of a circle gleaming through the sand. Excitedly, T
od scuffed the sand away with her foot, which sent clouds up into the water and made it hard to see. Impatiently, she waited for the sand to settle, and as the view cleared she saw at her feet a wonderfully familiar symbol: a huge circle with a dot in the center: Egg. Tod did a leap of excitement and sent her acolytes swimming away in panic. Egg. She could hardly believe it.
Now all she had to do was get hold of it.
Tod ran her hands through the sand, feeling the outside of the pod. It was made of the same smooth coppery metal of the posts that had marked the underwater path and had repelled all attempts by crustaceans and weeds to attach themselves. Slowly, so as not to cloud her vision, Tod smoothed away the sand and before long found what she was looking for—a circular hatch, in the center of which was, to her delight, a star-shaped indentation with a familiar pattern of points. It was the mirror image of her StarChaser. It seemed that Dan was right: this really was a pod key.
Tod lifted the StarChaser from around her neck. Her hands trembling with excitement, she was about to place it into its lock when she became aware of a movement at the edge of her vision—her guard of Sprite fish had suddenly shot away in all directions. Thoughts of the ancient PathFinder monster flashed into her mind and Tod wheeled around.
At first she merely saw six red pinpoints of light, seemingly swimming in formation, but then her heart leaped in fear. Coming straight for her, guided by her green eyes—which shone big and bright with horror through her goggles—was the ten-foot-tall shape of a Kraan.
A CONTRAPTION
On board Vega, Ferdie and Oskar were growing concerned.
“She’s been in there for ages,” Ferdie said, giving another tug on the rope and getting no response. She looked at Oskar. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Oskie.”
Oskar had a bad feeling too. He picked up some fishing weights from the bottom of the boat and stuffed them into his pockets.
“Oskie, what are you doing?” Ferdie asked.
“I’m going down to see what’s going on,” Oskar said.
Ferdie went ashen. She grabbed hold of her brother with both hands. “No, Oskie, don’t,” she begged. “Please don’t.” Not so long ago, Ferdie had watched Tod throw herself into a fifty-foot-deep tube of water not knowing whether her friend would drown or not. She could not bear to watch Oskar doing the same.
Oskar hastened to reassure her. “Hey, Ferd, it’s okay. I’m not brave enough to do that,” he said. “Not like Tod.” Ferdie lost her look of terror—but not for long. Oskar was opening his mysterious bag of stuff. With the triumphant air of a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat, he took out what looked to Ferdie like a large oilcloth shopping bag with a small oval glass window and a canister with a crazy tangle of tubes dangling from it.
“I’m going to use this,” Oskar said, holding up the bag triumphantly.
“Use it to do what?” Ferdie asked.
“To breathe underwater,” Oskar told her. “Just like Tod. Ephaniah and I invented it,” he said proudly. “It works really well. I’ve made one for you, too. You’ll love it, Ferd.” With that Oskar put the bag over his head, put the end of one of the tubes in his mouth, tucked the canister up inside the bag and tightened the drawstring around his neck. Loud, rasping sounds began to come from Oskar’s bag-head.
Ferdie was horrified. “Oskar, take it off! You’ll suffocate!” she yelled, grabbing at the bag and trying to yank it off Oskar’s head.
“Nerrr, doppit Ferrrr!” Oskar pulled back from Ferdie, trying to protect his precious contraption. Desperately, Ferdie lunged forward; Oskar leaped backward, tripped over the thwart and tumbled out of the boat. There was a loud splash and Oskar sank fast.
Distraught, Ferdie leaned over the side of the boat and yelled, “Oskar! Oskar!” She saw a mass of bubbles coming up to the surface and the dark shape of Oskar dropping down into the depths. She felt the rope tighten as Oskar grabbed hold of it and relief washed over her—now Oskar could pull himself up. But Oskar did no such thing. Ferdie watched his dark, blurry shape with its big, white bag-head very deliberately continue its descent. She stared into the water until she could see him no more and then she sat down among the muddle of baskets and boxes, while the sea lapped against the sides and the boat gently rocked.
Ferdie could not bear it: to be alone in the boat while her twin brother and best friend were far below at the bottom of the sea was just not possible. She picked up Oskar’s horrible contraption and stared at it in disgust for a few seconds, breathing in the nauseating smell of the oiled canvas. Then Ferdie took a deep breath of fresh air and pulled the bag over her head. Just as she had seen Oskar do, she shoved the end of one of the tubes in her mouth, pushed the canister up into the bag and pulled the drawstring tight. She stared out through the little piece of glass at the world now shrunk to a green oval and forced herself to take a breath. With a click of a valve inside the canister and a metallic hiss, Ferdie took in her first gulp of air. It tasted rubbery and stale but it worked—she could actually breathe. Ferdie stood for a moment, gathering her courage, then she too took fishing weights from the basket, dropped them into her pockets, and without giving herself time to think, she held on to to her bag-head and jumped into the sea.
The cold shocked Ferdie, but the act of trying to breathe with her head inside a bag took her mind off it. Unlike Oskar, who had spent time with his head in a fish tank practicing, this was new to Ferdie, and she found that she was breathing in and holding her breath, reluctant to let the precious lungful go. Reminding herself yet again to breathe out, Ferdie peered through the thick green glass, looking for the rope. It swam into view, she grabbed it, and then, hand over hand, slowly pulled herself downward, telling herself: breathe in . . . breathe out . . . breathe in . . . breathe out . . . breathe in . . . breathe out . . .
The mantra took her safely down to the seabed, where to her surprise she found Oskar with a green glowstick waiting for her. I knew you’d come, he signed.
Horrible boy, Ferdie signed. And then, tapping her bag, These work.
Of course, Oskar signed, and then, Shall we go and find Tod?
Ferdie gave the “okay” sign. She took Oskar’s outstretched hand and together they stepped into the belly of the Metal Fish. At once they found themselves surrounded by a cloud of little lights.
Fish! Ferdie signed excitedly.
Teeth, Oskar replied, somewhat less excitedly.
The fish surrounded them. They were less respectful than they had been with Tod: Oskar’s light was dimmer, which meant that he was clearly a fish of lesser importance. But the fish were on a mission: their leader was in trouble and they needed a bigger fish to help. Oskar would do nicely. Ferdie, without a light, they did not recognize as a separate being. They assumed, because she was joined to one of Oskar’s fins, that she was part of Oskar. And so, nudged and poked, with spiny teeth only inches away from his precious air bag, Oskar had little choice but to go where the Sprite fish wished. And where Oskar went, Ferdie went too. The Sprite fish propelled them across the floor of the starship and then upward and through the hole in the stern bulkhead into the tail section.
On the other side they were met with clouds of swirling sand through which, far below, they glimpsed the dim glow from Tod’s discarded FlashLight.
Trouble. Ferdie signed one-handed.
They sank quickly through the water, following the fish, and they very soon saw exactly what trouble Tod was in. She was, in slow motion, fighting off a Kraan using a long pole and the moves that Marwick had shown them only a few days earlier. Oskar and Ferdie moved toward Tod as fast as they could—which was nightmarishly slow—but as they drew near, through the clouds of sand they saw that they were too late. The Kraan had knocked the pole from Tod’s hands and was leaning over her, its bony hands about to grab her throat.
“No!” Oskar screamed, the sound almost deafening inside his bag. He rushed forward, tripped and fell headlong. Ferdie came cannoning down after him. When they looked up they saw Tod on her knees
staring at something in her hands.
Back at the Wizard Tower Septimus and Marcia hugged each other in relief. On the floor of the Sealed Cell, six evil-looking red beads rolled slowly into a corner.
Newt Makken staggered out, pale with shock. “It worked,” he whispered. “The Reverse worked.”
“It did indeed,” Marcia said. “Well done, Newt. It was a brave thing you did, to go into the Sealed Cell alone.”
“And get the Reverse right the first time too,” added Septimus. “You kept a cool head.”
But Newt’s head felt anything but cool—it was spinning and making strange buzzing noises. Very slowly, Newt slid to the floor in a faint. A small, tattered book titled How to Fix Things You Wish You’d Never Done dropped from his grasp and fell at Septimus’s feet. Septimus picked it up and put it in his pocket. It was one of the most useful books he had come across in a long time—full of all kinds of Darke Reverses.
Marcia and Septimus carried Newt back into the Darke Archives. They laid him on the floor, covered him with a blanket, and got back to work.
“I hope we were in time,” Septimus said somberly as they began to tidy the chaotic mess of books and papers that had been discarded in increasing desperation.
Marcia smiled at him. “You know,” she said, “I have the strangest feeling that we were—just in time.”
THE SIEVE
Tod was staring in disbelief at six red beads lying in her cupped palms when she became aware of two more figures coming toward her. She leaped up and wheeled around, expecting yet more trouble.
Never in her craziest dreams had Tod expected to meet Ferdie and Oskar on the seabed. But as soon as she saw them, even with their bizarre air bags, running in comical slow motion toward her, Tod knew it was them. She spat out a spurt of water in a huge laugh. Potato heads, she signed.