The Complete Ingo Chronicles: Ingo, The Tide Knot, The Deep, The Crossing of Ingo, Stormswept. Helen Dunmore

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       CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

      Ingo is angry. We know it as soon as we are beneath the skin of the water, as soon as the pain of entering Ingo fades enough for us to notice anything else. Currents twist around us like a nest of snakes. The sea boils and bubbles. Down and down we go, spiralling, while white sand whirls around us, beaten by the underwater storm. The rage of the sea catches us and blows us before it like leaves in the wind.

      “Look out!” says Conor. “Rocks!”

      We’re being swept towards the black rocks that guard the entrance to the cove. Ingo can’t drown us, but it has other ways of destroying us if it wants to.

      “Don’t hurt us,” I plead under my breath. “We haven’t come to harm you.”

      The wicked spikes of the rock shoot past, less than a metre away. This time, Ingo has let us escape. We plunge into deep dark water, dragged by a current that lashes like a switchback. Down, down, down, deep into Ingo. Suddenly the current throws us off.

      We’ve got to swim. I peer through the surging water, looking for some sign of the Bawns. Has the current carried us past them already? The water’s so dark and wild, so strong, that I don’t know if I can swim against it. I kick with all my strength, then kick again, but it’s like trying to swim in a dream. Conor tugs my wrist.

      “Saph, you OK?”

      I turn to him. “I’m fine,” I start to say, then realise that it’s Conor who doesn’t look right. There are blue shadows around his eyes and mouth, and his face is twisted with pain. His legs move feebly. But Conor is a brilliant swimmer, much better than me. What’s the matter with him? Why isn’t he swimming?

      And then I know. Conor is not getting enough oxygen. Ingo won’t let him. He’s getting some oxygen through me, but only a little. Not enough.

      “Conor, hold on to me! Hold tight.”

      Conor’s grip on my wrist is weak. In a flash of terror I realise that I’m all he’s got, and I’m not strong enough. Not when Ingo is angry, and the waters are dark with danger. Not when we’re being whirled through the deep water like human rags inside a giant washing machine. I catch hold of Conor’s other wrist and try to find his pulse. It’s there, but it’s so hard to feel that I’m frightened. Conor’s fingers are slipping off my wrist.

      “Conor! You’ve got to hold on!”

      “M’OK, Saph. Tired.”

      “Don’t try to swim. I’ll swim for both of us. Just keep still. Try to relax.”

      Try to relax. You idiot. You brought him down here. You thought you had enough strength for two, and he believed you. It’s your fault, Sapphire, no one else’s.

      “Can’t breathe,” mutters Conor.

      Oh God, he mustn’t start trying to breathe. It’s dangerous. There’s no air here. Oxygen is flowing smoothly into my body, but not into Conor’s. He’s suffering, it’s hurting him. We’re so deep down, I’ll never get him to the surface in time. And even if I do, once we’re out of Ingo, the sea will drown us both—

      “Conor, don’t try to breathe! You mustn’t!”

      What can I do? How can I help him? We should never have come alone. If Faro was here – Faro would be strong enough to help—

      “Faro!” I cry out with all my strength. “Faro!”

      “Don’t, Saph. Faro won’t help. He’s with the Mer. He’s on their side.”

      Conor’s eyes are dull, half shut. We cling to each other as the current spins us around and drags us through the wide mouth of our cove. Below us the floor of the sea falls away. Deep, dark, stormy water sweeps us along. I hold on to Conor with all my strength but he’s barely grasping me. His head falls back.

      “Faro! Help us!”

      I am sure Faro can hear me. I am sure he is there, just out of sight behind the tumult of the water. I know it. How can Faro let Conor suffer like this? Why won’t he come to us?

      The cry of the gull flashes over my mind. He spoke to me, and I understood. Maybe I am using the wrong language to call Faro. Faro is Mer, not Air. Maybe I can find that other language, buried deep inside me. I found words before. Moryow… broder…

      My ancestors had powerful Mer blood, I think fiercely. They passed their power down to me. It comes down from generation to generation, and it doesn’t weaken. I am human, but if Granny Carne’s right, I am also partly Mer. I can make Faro hear me. I must help Conor. Broder, broder…

      I grasp Conor as tightly as I can. He’s not holding on to me any more. Maybe he can’t feel where I am. I’m going to lose him. He’s going to drift away, my Conor, down and down into Ingo until he’s lost. And I said I’d bring him back СКАЧАТЬ