Magnus Fin and the Moonlight Mission (7 page)

Magnus Fin hit the water with a loud splash. It was freezing! Gasping with the shock, he clutched at the mother-of-pearl handle and pulled. The rock door to the selkie world opened. From the crack between the worlds the emerald-green light flashed – and he was through.

But through to what? Where was the crab? The water churned around him, twisting him in a spinning vortex, its force sucking him down. Magnus Fin was in a whirlpool. It pulled at him and spun him. Everything was a blur. Booming sounds near deafened him. The brilliant light near blinded him. His lungs felt fit to burst. He floundered with his arms and legs, helpless in this tube of whirling water. Had he jumped straight into a sea storm?

Just when he was sure he would faint, the churning, spinning and whirling motions ceased. He was thrown forward by a tidal force. One more booming sound and instantly the water calmed. Everything grew still and quiet. Eerily quiet. Or had Magnus Fin gone deaf?

Fin ventured forward. His arms trembled but he managed slowly to swim. He glanced above. He glanced below. With the silver beam of his torch eye-lights he scanned the dark seawater. What strange world was
this? No swaying arms of seaweed moved. No fish swam. No crab was here to guide him. Nothing!

Nothing, that was, except for a few slow swaying seals, sleeping peacefully. Thankful he wasn’t alone, Fin nudged the seals, but try as he might, and he did, nothing would wake them. Confused, Fin left them to their dreams and swam on through the dark silent water.

After a few strokes he bumped against something. Feeling forward, his hands came up against what felt like metal. Panicking, he swam back, but only a few strokes. Again he met the same resistance. Where was he? Frantic now, he swam up. He swam down. He swam to the sides again, kicking his legs furiously through the water. Then he stopped and slumped against the wall. There was nowhere to go. He was in some kind of container, a sunken ship perhaps. And unless he was mistaken, there was no way out.

He wanted to scream for help. But he’d only been under the water for minutes, seconds even. He couldn’t call for Aquella already, surely? He wanted to protect her, and he wanted her to think he was brave and strong.

What about Tarkin then? Hadn’t Tarkin’s thoughts come to him and told him to jump? Perhaps he really was close by somewhere in a boat. Tarkin had lost his voice – but now, just maybe, he had discovered thought transmission.

Fin concentrated hard on Tarkin. He tried to picture him. Then he tried to send his thoughts towards him:
HELP ME! I’m stuck in a sunken ship. Oh help!

But after a few seconds the thoughts bounced back:
HELP ME! I’m stuck in a sunken ship
. Fin groaned. The
ship, or whatever it was, was sound proof – and thought proof.
Oh help!

Magnus Fin didn’t cry very often. But he cried then, and floated helplessly round and round in the silent prison filled with briny water, a few blissfully unconscious seals and his own salt tears.

Tarkin was glad that the village hall was surrounded by pine trees. So even if Frank did step outside for some fresh air he wouldn’t see his fishing boat churning across the moonlit ocean. When Tarkin cut the engine and let the boat drift on the smooth sea he caught snatches of music on the wind. He grinned. If only his dad could see him now. He couldn’t believe how easy it had been to steer the boat out of the harbour, and now, how well he was managing. He was probably a natural born seafarer. Hadn’t his dad spent a couple of years in the United States Marine Corp? Seafaring was in the blood.

Tarkin, with his hand gently on the rudder, let the boat drift, trying more or less to keep the rock where Fin jumped off in his sight. The full moon flooded the beach, the coast and the sea with a pale silvery glow.

Tarkin checked his watch. It was one of those watches that lit up. Magnus Fin, so his watch informed him, had been gone all of one minute. From what Fin had told him, a minute on land could feel like a day underwater – so in sea time, Fin had been gone a long time. Tarkin scanned his torch across the water but there was no sign of him, so Tarkin tore the wrapper off a toffee and ate it.

Maybe it was the toffee, though more probably the
swell that gently rocked the boat, but Tarkin felt his stomach lurch. Under his unsteady feet the boat rocked like a cradle. Tarkin snatched in air, and wound his fingers tightly over the edge of the boat. He groaned. The last thing he wanted was to be sick.

Frank’s words of advice from the night before came back to him, “Bend your knees and go with the flow, buddy.” Tarkin bent his knees and moved with the gentle rocking motion of the boat. It helped. He breathed out and unclenched his grip.

Seasickness scare over, Tarkin checked again that everything was in place: towel, life jacket, rope, huge bag of sweets, blanket, torch, pen and paper. The water slapped against the hull of the boat. The moon shone. Tarkin sat at the stern guiding the boat through the calm water and chewing his toffee.

Awesome! Life at sea
,
he thought,
is definitely the life for me. What muckle bliss.

Aquella sat on the flat rock, with four dead seals for company. She knew these seals, had swum with them, and at solstice times had come ashore with them. Fin had gone, into the freezing water. And there, if she wasn’t mistaken, in a small fishing boat out at sea, was Tarkin. She couldn’t see anyone with him. Her strong selkie eyesight could only make out Tarkin wearing a bulky life jacket. She felt relieved seeing the life jacket but nervous at the thought of what an eleven-year-old boy in a boat alone, at night – who didn’t know how to swim – might get up to.

“Oh, Tarkin,” she sighed, standing to see him better, “in the name of Neptune, don’t try anything heroic.”

Aquella liked Tarkin fine. She could see how he admired Fin. He had even tried once to wear a coloured contact lens so he too would have different coloured eyes. And he was forever speaking about the mermaid he once saw. He wanted adventure badly. More than anything he wanted to be different. And there was Magnus Fin, as different as day is to night, adventure seeming to seek him out, and him wishing he could be normal.

Aquella watched the little boat. It seemed to bob about aimlessly. It was enough that she was there to help Fin if he got into trouble. Tarkin was bound to be more a hindrance than a help.

“Tarkin!” she shouted. But he was further away than he seemed and she didn’t dare go any closer for fear of salt water. “Tarkin don’t be stupid!” But her words evaporated into the night air. “Now I’ve got you to look out for as well as Magnus Fin,” she said to herself, annoyed that a boy who couldn’t even swim would take a boat out.

Aquella stood on the rocks and waited, for what she didn’t know. She stared out to sea, resisting the urge to walk right into it. She thought about how Ragnor had said the best way to be a land girl was not to think too much about her life under the sea.

“It’s like Tarkin,” Ragnor had said to her, comforting her one night when she felt homesick. He’d been listening while she struggled on with her reading, and when she gave up he just sat with her.

“How?” she’d asked, not understanding how she was like Tarkin. She had black hair, he had blond hair – she had green eyes, he had blue eyes – he was skinny, she wasn’t. And now – she was responsible – and he wasn’t.

“Well, he probably misses America,” Ragnor said. “I know he misses his dad. But he’s in Scotland now. Here – up in the north – same as you – and he’s getting on with it. Think of it like living in another country. It helps. And it doesn’t help to think too much about the past, Aquella.”

That made sense to Aquella. She was a foreigner in a new land. And she was determined to make the most of it, just like Magnus Fin’s friend from America. She had looked at Tarkin differently after that. He, like her, had also come from far away.

And he, like her, just wanted to help. Thinking this, she breathed in the salty tang of the sea, sat back down on the flat rocks, pulled her jacket about her, and waited.

Magnus Fin didn’t know how long he had been in this prison. He wasn’t hungry – though the shepherd’s pie may have had something to do with that. He wasn’t even thirsty. He was bored. And bored was the last thing he expected to be in the selkie world. He was also – he could feel it pulsing inside him like a slow-boiling kettle – angry.

HELP! LET ME OUT!
But it only took seconds for the thoughts to echo back:
HELP! LET ME OUT!

Fin hammered his fists on the steel walls, which, Fin discovered as he hammered, sloped up to a point. He was surely in an upturned sunken ship, or a tanker. He kicked as hard as he could, but no one heard him. Fin howled. He punched. But the steel was hard, his fellow prisoners were still asleep, and his fist throbbed.

HELP!

HELP!

It’s Magnus Fin, son of Ragnor.

It’s Magnus Fin, son of Ragnor.

It’s me – M F.

It’s me – M F.

Don’t leave me alone.

You are not alone.

Fin swung round. A slamming sound boomed in his ears. The water churned then grew instantly calm again.

You are not alone.
It came again and it wasn’t his thoughts. Hope filled him. Eagerly Fin scanned his prison.

Swimming towards him was a black and silver seal. She swam up to Magnus Fin and nuzzled him gently.
It is for the sake of our health.

Fin stared into the warm dark eyes of the seal. A flicker of recognition stirred in him.

The seal nodded.
Aye, Fin, it is Shuna. I begged you to help us on the beach, but Miranda is afraid. She wants to protect us. The sickness will not come into this sealed place, or so they hope. The bay near here was always special to us selkies, not least because you, Ragnor and now Aquella live close by. But, Fin, the selkies are dying there. Their eyesight is failing. Bones are breaking and even the young are fainting and falling. Locked up like this we are safe. Until it passes. That is what Miranda says. We, the selkies who are still healthy, must stay here until it passes.

Fin stared at her, not understanding.
Until what passes?

The sickness. We selkies have to be careful with our skin, you know that Fin.

Fin circled around the young seal. He didn’t intend to be locked up in this sunken ship until the sickness, whatever it was, passed. He had not jumped into the sea and pushed open the rock door to the selkie world for this. He had to help his grandmother.

It won’t come to me. I’m half human, remember? It won’t come to me.
Fin wasn’t so sure but he tried to sound confident.
You asked me to come and help. The crab wants me to help. I know he does. And Miranda, the one I want to help, has kept me prisoner. There must be a way out of here, Shuna. Help me to escape. I can stop this sickness. I know I can. And I’m not so sure it’s a sickness anyway.

Shuna stared into Magnus Fin’s eyes.
Of course it is. It killed many of our kind before.

But I saw the green staring eye, and the stinking gunge. I think someone or something is poisoning the selkies – some menacing creature with a wild green eye. I saw it.
Fin lifted the locket around his neck to show Shuna.
And I’ve got my last milk tooth in here, and Neptune’s seaweed. They can help. Now I’ve got to get out of here. Help me, Shuna.

Shuna glanced at the other selkies. Some of them had woken up and were now swimming towards the human child, curiosity wide in their eyes.

The only way out of here is if another selkie is brought in. That’s the only chance. Any seals found whose eyes have not turned white are brought to this place.

What is this place anyway?

One of your steel ships. It’s upside down. There is one tiny porthole blocked with a stone. When a healthy seal is found the nurse seals remove the stone and push the healthy seal in here. What do you call it – quarantine? To have any chance of escape you must wait by the porthole. As soon as it opens, Fin, slip out – quick as an eel. I’ll make a banging noise to distract them.

They? Who are they?

The helper seals. The nurses, I told you. But the ones that brought me here were half blind themselves. Escape might be easier that you think. They will hardly be able to see you. But it’s not the helper seals you need fear. It’s the sickness you should fear. It killed my brother.

The other seals had gathered round now. They seemed to be nodding and, with their mournful eyes, wishing him well.

Fin didn’t waste a second. The stone over the porthole could open at any moment. He stroked Shuna’s sleek face then swam quickly over to the round steel porthole. He tried to kick the stone away but it was wedged in tight. All healthy selkie eyes were on him now. He hovered by the porthole, treading water to keep him from floating upwards.

May Neptune guide you
, Shuna called out.

Where is he anyway?
Magnus Fin asked from his place by the porthole.

Far away
, Shuna told him,
far, far away where the oil clings to the water.

Fin shuddered. The great king of the sea, Neptune, would not be able to help him. He had other work to do. Feeling more alone than ever, Magnus Fin clutched his moon-stone and waited.

And he waited. Shuna had fallen asleep. Peacefully she floated about in the quarantined tanker. Fin couldn’t imagine what loud distracting noises she would be able to make, floating about in the land of nod.

Magnus Fin felt tired himself. His chin rolled down against his chest. His eyelids grew heavy. Oh, to sleep for a day, a week, eternity. He closed his eyes, stopped treading water and floated up through the upturned hull.

Wake up, Fin. It’s opening.

Fin shook himself. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. Shuna was thudding her tail fin against the side of the ship, to and fro, to and fro. The porthole, with a thundering grinding noise, was opening.

Now, Fin. Go! And Neptune go with you!

The helper seals called for Shuna to calm herself. The stone was fully pulled back now. The waters churned and frothed. Fin spied the gap. He saw a seal being flung into the hull. With not a second to lose Fin dived. He squirmed through the narrowing gap in the porthole, scraping his foot as it closed, stubbing his toe. Just in the nick of time he yanked his foot free as the stone crashed back into the porthole behind him.

He dived deep, on and away through the water. His heart was a drum in his chest. His big toe throbbed.
Thank Neptune,
he cried,
I’m freeeeee!

Through forests of kelp and algae he swam. Through rocky caverns he swam.
I’m coming, Miranda!
he called loudly in his thoughts.
I’m bringing the medicine!
But not a murmur came in reply.

Plunging onwards, thoughts of his beautiful, brave and ailing grandmother fuelled his every stroke. With jellyfish, darting eels and then salmon he swam. He needed to find the canyon. He had to find the weeping rock. The image of the green eye haunted him. The sickness wasn’t invisible. It had a grotesque staring eye and Fin was going to find it.