Song of the Deep Read Online Free

oxygen. Why didn’t I think about how little air I’d
have before I took the sub deep underwater?
    With all my weight I push down on the right bicycle pedal at my
feet. The gears rotate. I hear the propeller in the back start to turn. I pump
the pedals as fast as I can. The sub is starting to move. I pull back on the
handlebars, trying to steer the sub up. But I’m still sinking.
    The surface looks farther and farther away. I use the last of my
strength to keep pedaling. There is no more air. My muscles are too weak to
move now. My body collapses onto the floor of the sub.
    I see my father. He’s in a tall lighthouse under the sea, its
light shining through the depths.
    “Keep going, Merryn,” he calls to me.
    The beam of the lighthouse sweeps toward my face.
    The blinding light makes me squint. Why does that lighthouse look
familiar? I’m sure I’ve seen it somewhere before.
    I hear my father’s voice coming from far away. He’s singing a song
to me. It’s a melody I had long forgotten. I open my eyes. My lungs don’t hurt
anymore.
    There is a tickle of a breeze on my ankles. Puzzled, I look down
at my feet. The breeze is coming through the zephyr whelk. But how?
    Now I remember the song my father was singing—it was the one about
the zephyr whelk. Ancient explorers used the shells to breathe in the depths of
the sea. I had always thought the stories of the explorers were just fairy
tales . . . could they actually be true? Suddenly my lungs feel tight again.
The sub is no longer moving, and the air from the zephyr whelk has stopped. I
resume pedaling, and the breeze picks up. I think the shell must be filtering
the air out of the water as the sub moves forward, just like the gills of a
fish.
    And just like a fish I have to keep moving in order to breathe. It
seems the sub needs to stay in constant motion to filter air in. If I stop
pedaling for more than a minute, my air will run out.
    I pedal slowly but steadily, heading deeper into the sea. That was
a close call, but I feel more confident now. Maybe I have luck on my side. Or
maybe someone is watching over me. Either way, I have a good feeling that I’m
going to find my father.



 
     
    5
    FOREST OF LIGHT
     
    I can no
longer see the surface of the water above me. The sea is an endless inky
darkness. I have no concept of distance or space. Giant shadows pass slowly over
one another in front of me, black gliding over darkest blue.
    There are tall undulating shapes passing by me, like arms reaching
out of the darkness to grab hold of me. I feel something brush against the
right wall of the sub.
    I lean toward the window, and as I do something leans toward me.
There’s a face, floating in the water. It’s the face of a horse. Its eyes are a
pure glowing white, and its head is sleek black with a faint green glow
illuminating its edges. Maybe it’s just my eyes playing tricks on me.
    The head turns away and I see the silhouette of its body, outlined
by that eerie green glow. The front of the creature’s body looks like a
galloping horse, while the rear looks like the tail of a serpent. The mane and
tail look like they are made of long flowing strands of seaweed, glistening and
translucent in the shimmering green glow.
    Every child knows the fairy tales about kelpies: beautiful horses
made of the twisting underwater plants. They lure children into the water, and
then pull them down to the depths below. The stories get into our heads and
make us see things in the darkness. That’s all it is.
    Yet I can’t stop myself from following it.
    The kelpie’s graceful flowing tail fills me with a feeling of
peace and calm. It turns its head back toward me before diving deeper down. I
follow it, heading deeper into the thickening shadows.
    The glow of the undulating creature is hypnotizing. Where is it
going? I want to stroke its beautiful mane. I can’t take my eyes off it. How
can any creature be so perfect and beautiful?
    It’s turning back toward me now, but its