Song of the Deep Read Online Free Page A

eyes look different and
strange. They are dark and hollow instead of white. All at once, as if a veil
has been lifted from my face, I see the truth. The horse’s body unravels,
spreading out into long tangles of flowing kelp. The kelp is moving, stretching
out, surrounding me. I feel a sudden downward tug from behind me and my body
lurches forward.
    I am yanked downward. I lose my grip on the handlebars as I’m
flung up against the roof. Strands of kelp are wrapping around and around the
sub, tightening their grip. I get back onto the seat and try to pedal, but it’s
too late. The propeller is jammed with kelp.
    Hold still , I tell myself. Save your oxygen . If the
sub isn’t moving, the zephyr whelk isn’t filtering air inside.
    I try to wiggle the pedal gently. Maybe I can loosen the propeller
just enough to get it moving. But with each wiggle of the pedal, the kelp
tightens its grip.
    My breathing is slow and careful. I have to buy myself time to
think.
    Maybe if I rock the sub back and forth, I can loosen the grip of
the kelp enough to open the hatch just a crack. I stand up on the seat, bracing
my arms against either side of the roof, and lean all my weight to the left,
then to the right. The sub tilts back and forth. I keep going, left, right,
left, right. I push as hard as I can against the hatch.
    It still won’t budge.
    My lungs are aching now. My head is hurting. I can’t focus.
    I close my eyes, breathing as slowly as I can.
    I think about my father, wondering if he would have known what to
do. I’m glad he can’t see me now. He won’t ever know I died trying to find him.
    In the darkness, my mind is playing tricks on me. The sweet smell
of wild orchids fills the air. I close my eyes tighter.
    I hear my mother’s voice in my head. She’s singing a song. It’s
soft and low and beautiful.
    Taking shallow breaths, my voice cracking, I begin to sing along
with her.

     
    As I sing the last notes of the song, I see glowing points of
light appear all around me. Hundreds of kelp bulbs are lighting up, glowing
yellow and orange. I feel the submarine jostle as the strands of kelp loosen
their grip and rise up to sway gently and peacefully around me.
    I push down on the pedals and feel no resistance. The propeller
turns and I slowly start to move forward. The air is coming in again. The great
stalks of kelp seem to bend out of my way as I sail through, as if they have
decided I am a friend.
    The path ahead of me is lit up with the glowing balloon-like
bulbs. I watch the waving strands warily. I think this must be the particularly
deadly kind of kelp known as strangleclaw. I remember my father sometimes
called it glowkelp because of its shining bulbs. He said that if you get
in trouble under the water, you can use their bulbs to breathe. Each one has
enough air for one or two full breaths.
    At last the stalks become sparser, and I know I’m coming to the
end of the forest of light. The blackness stretches out in front of me as if
daring me to enter the unknown. Now I know that there will be many challenges
ahead, things I can’t even imagine, but I’ll be ready for them.
    Sure enough, as I sail on into the deeper waters, I see two
gleaming green eyes watching me from the darkness.



 
    6
    THE CLOCKWORK SEAHORSE
     
    T he
glowing green eyes stare back at me amid glints of metallic gold. I sail
closer, hardly believing what I’m seeing. It looks like a seahorse , but
it must be bigger than I am. I take some small comfort knowing that at least
this horse isn’t made of kelp.
    It suddenly darts straight toward me, stopping just inches in
front of the window.
    Its eyes are huge faceted emeralds. Its body is made of
interlocking segments of polished gold and its abdomen appears to be
transparent crystal, revealing hundreds of tiny moving gears inside.
    It turns its head from side to side as if it’s looking me over.
“Who made you?” I whisper, under my breath. As it turns, I can see that the
back of its head