The Crossing of Ingo (34 page)

“I will, I promise.”

Mortarow’s blow seems to have ripped the heart out of the battle. Some of Ervys’s followers have stopped fighting altogether. Their spears hang from their hands and their faces are blank, as if everything they were fighting for has been taken away from them. There’s no sign of Mortarow, but the bull seals and the dolphins are chasing off a group of Mer men who are still fighting hard in retreat, jabbing and thrusting with their spears.

But Ervys still has supporters. They stand behind him as Conor faces their leader, trident in hand. I swim as close as I dare, not wanting to distract Conor. Faro is there too, waiting and watching, ready to plunge forward.

“So, is it to be a fight between us, Ervys?” calls my brother. “Or have you got another of your supporters ready to stab me in the back as you did my father? A coward’s trick if I ever saw one.”

“It was no trick of mine,” growls Ervys, and his tail lashes like the tail of a tiger when it’s roused.

“Prove it then. Spear against trident, and nothing else.”

“Spear against trident,” agrees Ervys, and a small smile licks around the corner of his lips. He’s a fully grown Mer man, armed with a spear, and my brother is a boy armed with a trident that he doesn’t even know how to use.

I won’t let him kill Conor. I don’t care about all the “spear against trident” stuff. Ervys isn’t going to come close to hurting Conor if I’m here.

“Careful, Sapphire.”

“We’ve got to fight, Faro! We can’t let him pick us off one by one.”

“The Mer have got to see Ervys defeated. They’re already turning away from him because of what Mortarow did.”

“I can’t watch my brother get hurt.”

“He won’t. He’s going to defeat Ervys. And if he doesn’t I will fight until every drop of blood has left my body. You can fight alongside me then, little sister.”

I wish I had Faro’s confidence. Ervys looks so menacing as he measures up to Conor. His shoulders are massive. The arm that holds the spear quivers with muscle. His face is so … so
threatening.

But Conor will be quicker.
Faro’s thought floats into my mind. Yes, he’s right. Conor is much lighter than Ervys, and because he’s younger he’s faster too. He’ll have better reflexes. He jinks from side to side in the water, the trident flashing. He’s trying to confuse Ervys and get him off balance. It won’t be easy.

“Go,
Conor, go. You can do it,”
I whisper.

The trident flickers. Ervys jumps back. One of the prongs has
nicked his skin and shed blood. How I wish the sharks would come, just for Ervys. But they’re his creatures now. It’s a miracle that only one bull shark has appeared so far. Something must be holding them back.

Ervys swears, shaking his wrist, and then lunges at Conor, who dances out of range. A moment later he’s there again, jabbing Ervys in the tail.

Ervys is getting angry.
Get angrier, Ervys. Lose control.
I can tell from Conor’s face that he’s angry too, but it’s a cold, deadly rage that drives him on rather than clouding his judgement. He wants revenge.

With a lightning curve of the wrist, Conor brings the trident in again. Ervys snatches at it, but misses. The prong pierces his neck, and Ervys can’t help clapping his hands to the wound.

It’s not a deep wound, but that doesn’t matter. Ervys’s spear is turning over and over as it falls down through the water, gathering speed. Ervys stares after it, his face twisted with fury and indecision. He’s wondering if he should dive after it, but he can’t because Conor’s pulling the trident back, ready for the next thrust. Ervys will have to swim back out of reach.

But he doesn’t. He grabs for the trident again, and this time he gets it. The two bodies lock, swaying and struggling, then there’s another jab, a cry from Ervys, and Conor breaks free, still holding his trident. Light gleams on the three metal points. They are razor sharp, honed for battle. Without warning, Conor jackknives, swims down, comes up just in front of Ervys, and feints with the trident so that Ervys lunges
to his right, uncovering the left side of his body. It happens very slowly and also very fast. One moment Ervys is lunging with all the force of his powerful body, and the next moment Conor strikes.

The points of the trident bury themselves deep in Ervys’s flesh, where the heart is. Ervys’s body arches backwards as Byblos’ did. He thrashes in the water, tearing at the trident with his hands, as Conor swims back out of reach. A sound between a cry and a groan comes from the watching Mer, but no one moves to help him. Ervys’s eyes bulge as he stares from one face to another without seeming to recognise anyone. A harsh grunt comes from his throat, and then a gout of blood comes from his mouth. He doubles over, and begins to sink down. Immediately, four of his followers dive after him. They seize hold of him by his shoulders and tail and support him. He does not move, and his head lolls back so that his long hair streams down in the water.

“He’s dead,” says Faro as Conor swims slowly towards us.

“I killed him,” Conor says to me, and his whole body shudders.

“You did well,” says Faro, but Conor shakes his head. The trident is still in his hand, already washed clean of Ervys’s blood. “Where’s Dad, Saph?”

“With Mellina.”

“Is he all right?”

“Yes, he was talking to me.”

“Thank God for that. I thought that spear thrust had killed
him.” Conor’s words open up a dark well of doubt in me. Dad’s going to be all right; he’s got to be.

“The battle’s over,” says Faro. I look around and see that he’s right. The Mer are dispersing. Four of his followers bear Ervys’s body away with them. Only one group still holds firm, some of them with spears. Suddenly, as if one thought has entered all their minds, they raise their spears high and then plunge them with all their force down into the depth of the water towards the sea bed. But I haven’t got time to think about what that means. I’ve got to get back to Dad.

I
recognise the figure bending over Dad. Long grey hair, swirling cloak. No one else has a cloak like that.

“Saldowr,” I say. My heart fills with bitterness. Why didn’t he come earlier? Byblos is dead and my father is wounded. I don’t know how many others have suffered. If Saldowr had come in time, surely he could have prevented some of it. Ervys would have defied him face-to-face, but Saldowr could have used his power to stop the other Mer from joining in the attack.

“Greetings.” Saldowr smiles at me, but I don’t feel like smiling back.

“How’s Dad?” I swim forward, and Saldowr moves aside for me. Mellina is pouring a few drops of bright liquid into Dad’s mouth. Even though they fall through water, the drops remain whole.

Those drops will make Dad stronger. He’s still very pale, but he must have heard my voice because he opens his eyes and says, “Hello,
myrgh kerenza,”
and he smiles. It’s exactly like the smile he used to give me when I came racing down the track after school. Conor, behind me, says, “Hello, Dad.”

“What happened, my boy?”

“I killed him.”

“Good.” Dad closes his eyes again. Maybe he’s gathering his strength, because when he speaks again his voice is louder. “You outwitted him. You got in under his arm.”

“Yes.”

“Perfect.”

Dad is quiet for a while. I notice that Elvira is there too, watching Dad’s face. She bends down and puts her fingers on his wrist.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Feeling his pulse.”

“Why don’t you try and heal him, Elvira? You remember how you put your hands on my leg when I got hurt in the flood? Can’t you do that?”

“I don’t think so,” says Elvira.

I look around wildly. All the faces are the same. Set and serious and somehow –
watching –
as if they know something’s going to happen. But I don’t know what it is. Even Conor suddenly has that look on his face.

“Conor, we’ve got to get help. Dad! We’ve got to fetch someone!”

Saldowr draws himself up and puts his hand on my shoulder, but says nothing. Dad opens his eyes again. His lips move but I can’t hear any words, and then suddenly I realise that he’s not trying to talk at all. He’s trying to sing. I take hold of his hand and hold it in mine, pressing tight.

“O Peggy Gordon …”
His voice is very quiet, not like the voice that used to ring around the pub and make everyone put down their glasses to listen. But the notes are still just as true.

Dad told me what “slighted” meant once, because I didn’t understand the word. It means to scorn someone, to put them aside, not to want them any more.

I thought Dad had done that to us.

Maybe he thought we had done it to him.

We are coming to the chorus now. I squeeze Dad’s hand again and there’s the faintest answering pressure. He knows I’m here with him. I bend down so he can see my lips and I sing along with him.

The song is finished. Everything’s quiet, and Dad has closed his eyes again. Saldowr bends down over him. He puts his head
against Dad’s chest and listens. Slowly, he straightens up.

“He’s gone,” says Conor.

Saldowr lays his hand over mine, which still clasps Dad’s. For a long time there is nothing else in the world but our joined hands. At last I look up. Conor’s head is bowed, and his eyes are closed. Everyone else has moved away.

“Why didn’t you come?” I ask Saldowr very quietly so Conor won’t hear. “You could have saved him.”

“I could not come, Sapphire. I had to hold back the sharks. Ervys’s promises had crazed them, and they smelled blood. If they had got to the battle, everything would have been lost. Only one slipped the net I held over them.”

I glance up. “The net?”

“Not such as humans use. I held them because even though Ervys had clouded their minds with bloodlust, they still remembered who I was. And then they remembered who they were, too.”

I want to keep on being angry with Saldowr. I need to blame someone for Dad’s death, but I can’t. Ervys is dead, and Saldowr’s face is ravaged with grief. His eyes search mine. Suddenly I realise that he needs to know that I believe him. It’s the strangest moment. Saldowr has always seemed to know everything.

“No, you couldn’t leave the sharks,” I say, and Saldowr bows his head. We’re silent for a while, both of us gazing down at Dad’s face.

“Your father made his choice,” Saldowr murmurs at last.

“This is as he wanted it. Ervys is dead, and you and Conor are alive.”

We swim behind the dolphins as they bear Dad to the borders of Limina. Faro, Conor, Elvira and I are all together. Saldowr leads us. I understand now that he couldn’t have stopped Ervys. He guards the Tide Knot and he’s a great teacher, but he’s not a magician. He can’t prevent people from making the choices that they make – not for ever. He held Ervys back for as long as he could, until Ervys’s hunger for power grew so strong that nothing could have stopped him. Once the battle started, he held back the sharks who would have wiped us out. He did all he could.

The battle seems a hundred years ago. Ingo is radiantly calm. It’s a clear, perfect day and you can see every grain of sand on the sea bed, even though the water is deep off the Bawns. The guardian seals are back at their task, patrolling the borders of Limina.

The dolphins swim very slowly and smoothly. Conor holds my hand. Everything seems real and not real at the same time. Dad looks as if he’s fallen asleep, and although I know he hasn’t, the knowledge hasn’t reached all of my mind yet. Conor says it’s the same for him.

We’re nearly there. The dolphins hang still in the water, and I wonder what’s going to happen now. Maybe there’s some kind
of ceremony that I don’t know about. I should have asked Faro. Maybe Conor or I ought to say something.

But all that happens is the dolphins begin to move forward again, very slowly. They cross the border of Limina, which none of the Mer can cross until they are dead, or ready to die. The plain of sand stretches out ahead of us, between the mountain range of underwater rock and the deep ocean.

“I can hear that music again,” says Conor.

I listen, but I can’t hear anything. It’s a gift Conor has: to hear the song that the seals sing when they welcome one of the Mer to Limina. Even Faro can’t hear it.

“They’re singing for Dad,” says Conor.

With all the grace and gentleness of their species, the dolphins lower Dad’s body to the sand. His hair sways in the slight current. My vision blurs. I don’t want to look any more.

“Time to go, little sister,” says Faro, taking my elbow.

I don’t look back. I don’t want to see that it really is Dad, lying on the sand, in his Mer body. I have the strangest feeling that he’s not really there at all. He’s not in the human world and he’s not in Ingo. Maybe he’s somewhere out on the water, whistling as the waves slap the
Peggy Gordon’s
hull. He’d like that.