Aquifer

by Jonathan Friesen

  “Close your eyes and remember.” Wren’s voice hypnotizes. “You sat with Massa on the dock. Hear his voice.”

  “Three in the cave!”

  Luca, let us begin the sequence. The first section, the most crucial, and the most dangerous should you err. What is the first turn?

  “All here!” Seward shouts. “They all be here!”

  “Left!” I scream, and stumble over loose rock into the first left offshoot.

  “Luca!”

  I turn, and Jasper tosses me his orb. I catch it, face forward again, and crash into a rock wall. “Oh, slight jog right.”

  And as I run, the words shift, gel, fix in my mind. They are a whole. Unforgettable.

  “Now a sharp right.”

  Seward’s voice reaches me. I want to ignore it, concentrate on the route. “Left, left …”

  “They’re following, Luca. We can’t take them there.”

  “Veer left, lower your head …” My three mates catch up in the long stretch. My feet flop down, nearly out of my control, so steep is the descent.

  “He’s correct.” Wren slows me down. “How can we lose them?”

  “Without losing ourselves?” I pause and recite the route up to the present. It is dangerous to speak in the middle. Wren gives me no choice.

  “When do we reach the pass?” Wren grips my shoulder.

  “The pass? I don’t know. That word is not in the sequence.”

  “Is there anything like it? A thin pass, with a drop off on the left?”

  “Thin pass,” I repeat, forcing myself to focus on the sequence and not her questions. “Deep into the series we will come to ‘careful, hug the right. Keep hugging the right. Don’t look left.’ ”

  She grins. “Get us there.”

  We fly forward, and my mind wanders. Time seems to vanish in the series of turns I alone know. The temperature is cool and comfortable. It hasn’t changed since we dropped. It makes no —

  Crack.

  I slow to a stop and plod back to the others, already looking to where my foot fell.

  Three dials. Three busted dials, the glass sparkling in the light of the orb.

  I look up and smile. “Father. So you were at least this far. Easy left, then slow and whoa …”

  We burst out of a shaft, pass beneath an arch of fitted stone, and gaze out at a subterranean dome. The ceiling is barely visible, rising hundreds of feet before us and reflecting yellows and blues. The path veers sharply right, where it thins to a trail wide enough for one that winds tight against a rocky slope. To the left is the open, airy expanse of the dome. I step to its lip and glance down. There is no bottom.

  I pick up a stone, stretch my arm straight ahead, and drop it over the edge. We listen. Nothing.

  Wren whispers, “This is where it must happen.”

  CHAPTER

  15

  We don’t know yet how well they see.”

  Wren paces, her voice tense. “Your earlier breadcrumb analogy is accurate. They can trace us as long as they have dials. And who knows what manner of markings they may be leaving? The real danger is not that they find the Aquifer, it’s that they find their way out again with the means to return.”

  She draws us back off the ledge and into a huddle.

  “This means nobody can continue on to the thin trail. Our scent must stop here. We hide behind those rocks there.” She nods toward the piles on either side of the arch. “They will come quickly down, as did we, and when they reach the drop we can only hope they’re blind enough to miss the turn onto the ledge.”

  “And fall,” Jasper huffs.

  “And fall,” Wren repeats.

  “And if they don’t?” My voice sounds small, small like me. “Fall, that is.”

  Seward slaps my back. “Then we will, mate. But Wren is right — we can’t lead them closer to the only thing they want more than you.”

  We hide behind the two outcroppings, Seward and me on one side, Jasper and Wren on the other. Tucked behind Seward, I feel safe, and for minutes we whisper, speaking fondly about the things we know. Lendi, the wharf, Massa.

  Then I hear it.

  On the ground, not fifteen feet from us, there is a whirring. One of the three broken dials Father confiscated springs back to life.

  “It’s picking us up!” I grab Seward’s arm.

  “No, mate. If I be right, this time it picks up those who approach. Pocket your orb.” Seward peeks up the passageway. I press my cheek into his back and feel him stiffen. He turns and gestures me to take a peek, out from the safety of our hiding place.

  I look and shiver. A row of Amongus move down the tunnel with speed. All carry dials, two carry orbs. If the rest are still blind, they have adapted very well.

  I draw back and try to calm my heart. Their footsteps pound as one, echoing louder as they approach the dome. Seward presses backward, his weight pinning me between fear and rock. Footsteps thunder beneath the arch, until all falls silent.

  A minute passes; I tap my uncle’s shoulder, and he shifts forward, shrugs. He shushes my lips with his finger and slowly steps out from the outcrop. Seward quickly returns.

  “All there, mate. Standing at the ledge. I count nine.”

  I raise up my fingers and mouth, “There were ten.”

  He squints and steps back out, then hollers.

  “Le’go!” Seward’s body jerks forward, out of my sight. I hear scuffling, then more silence. I push back deeper into the crevice, my breath audible. Shadows appear, and I cover my mouth. In front of me, two Amongus feel their way into my hiding place, standing where Seward had been.

  One yard away, no more than an arm’s length.

  “There’s a strong reading here,” one hisses, raising his dial to his ear.

  “Readings are everywhere. Likely Seward’s imprint.” The other gropes forward, and I shrink my small body yet smaller.

  “It’s an uneven fix. It’s these cursed dials. Broken, I’m sure.”

  Their dials stretch toward me, whirring, stopping, then jerking to life. School. I think of my eagle and my uncoded heart. A cool draft floats over me. Both of the Amongus jerk back. Without my body heat, I’m invisible.

  “Blast, it moved.” They disappear, and I slowly stand and poke my head around the corner. The rest close in on the other side of the arch, where Jasper and Wren hide. All except for two, the two that pin Seward to the ground.

  Think, Luca. Think.

  “Nobody matters here but Luca.” An order given. “Find the boy.”

  A busted dial from the tunnel floor gives a faint whir.

  You are brave. You are brave.

  I leap from my hiding place and race back up the tunnel. I hear motion and grunts, but it’s too late to turn back. I grab the dial and stare into its mechanism, press it against my heart. It picks up my warmth and whirs violently.

  “Got the other two! I’m picking up a third.” I hear one shout. “We have all but the prize.”

  Oh, Father Massa, I was not meant for this.

  I race back toward my friends and duck through the arch.

  “He’s here! Something moves!”

  Arms reach, and I weave and scamper through the chaos.

  Seward fights his head free. “Luca, run. Run! You’re all they want.”

  I reach the cliff’s edge, hold up my dial, and yell. “Then they’ll have to come get me!”

  They drop Wren and Jasper and converge on me as one. I turn and fling my dial into the abyss, then drop to the ground.

  One by one, they dash off the ledge, the dome swallowing their cries.

  For a moment, all is still. I slowly stand. I’ve never taken a life, though I’ve watched many taken. I wonder if it’s the same thing. I know I saved my friends, but I can’t help feeling … less.

  Jasper and Wren gather around me. “That was brilliant, Luca.” Wren hugs me and offers my uncle a satisfied sigh. “Seward, you have taught him well.”

  I turn in time to see Seward crumple onto his back, whe
re he grasps his jaw and writhes in pain. From behind the outcrop steps an Amongus, his gaze fixed on me. He cracks his knuckles.

  “It is good to have my sight back.”

  Jasper and Wren step between us, but two backhands later they, too, lie groaning on the ground.

  “You’ve done well, Luca,” he says. “If you escaped the blaze, the assignment was to bring you to the PM’s isle, but I don’t suppose assignments matter too much below.” He takes a large step closer. With the ledge behind, there’s nowhere to run.

  “Truth is,” he says, “I don’t know my way out. We’re already in too far. So the job must be buttoned up here.” He cups his hands. “Farewell, Deliverer.”

  I brace myself, and he lunges toward me.

  I feel nothing but the breeze he creates.

  His body lurches to my left, his eyes large and confused. He falls, Seward on his back, the two disappearing down into the mist.

  “No!” I drop to my knees. “No. No. No!”

  Wren crawls toward me. Blood covers her cheek, and she wraps arms around my shoulders. I rock within her embrace, rock and weep. The tears that fought so hard to escape for Massa fall freely.

  “He did what he had to do.” Her voice is soft and weak.

  “But why?” I pull free and push back from the ledge.

  “Because there is much more at stake than you realize.” Wren blinks and sways, and Jasper kneels at her side.

  “You still bleed.” Jasper rips his shirt and wraps it about her head. “You must’ve struck rock as you fell. We’ll take care of it as we can, but …” Jasper glances at me. “She soon won’t be much for walking.”

  I breathe deep. “Okay. Okay. Give me a moment. I need to recite to here!”

  Minutes later we string across the mountain pass. I lead the way, while Jasper’s steady hands keep Wren aright. The next hours blur into a strange numbness. The route. Always in my mind there is the route, but it becomes automatic, as Father said it would be, and other thoughts do not disrupt.

  Why am I going here? Surely Seward knew of a deserted island free from the Amongus’s reach. Why do I need to go below?

  And Nine. Nine Amongus fell. There were ten, and I didn’t see Mape. He may yet be following. I could be leading him to the water source, the one cared for by Rats. I don’t want to see Rats. Living the rest of my life miles below the ground with a bunch of devolved humans. There must have been a different way.

  Maybe being undone would have been better.

  No. You’re on the right path.

  The thought, the voice first heard in Lendi’s cave, is so clear. I peek at Jasper. His face is fixed — he heard nothing. I rub my temple. I must’ve bumped my head too. The strange voice seems quite at home inside.

  I just wish that I did.

  A cool blast strikes me, and I stop, turn. Jasper eases Wren to the ground and stretches his arms.

  “How many more turns, Luca? Are we close?”

  “Two. Just two directions. Sharp left.”

  Jasper wipes the sweat from his face. “I can do that.”

  “And a three-mile windy walk.”

  He bows his head.

  “Leave me here, if you must,” Wren says. “Send somebody back for me.” Her voice drifts light and airy, like the air in the dome, and her eyelids flutter.

  “No, ma’am.” Jasper grunts and hoists her up. “If I can haul a net ‘a shrimp, I can carry a lady. And I’m not certain who you think we’re going to meet. Move, Luca.”

  I dart left and enter a passageway — one like none other.

  It’s not rough, but smooth and wide and comfortable. I rub my hand over it. “This is manmade.”

  “Rat made,” Wren whispers, and she closes her eyes.

  The smooth walk twists, but soon straightens, and widens and widens, and the ceiling lifts and lifts, and minutes later Jasper and I walk side by side, no longer in a tunnel. It’s not a chamber, or a cavern; it’s too large for those names. No, this place could contain the entire Swan Inlet.

  It’s a world. The world of the Water Rats.

  CHAPTER

  16

  Wren. Wren!” Jasper’s rough voice is unusually tender.

  “The lady doesn’t answer me, Luca.”

  We quicken our pace for ten steps.

  And then we stop.

  Three figures approach. Three men. Upright men.

  It dawns on me that I can see. That I can see well, and that light is everywhere, though I can’t find its source.

  “So we’ll just ask them for directions to the Rats?” I say.

  Jasper looks back the way he came. “Well, I’ve seen nastier-looking blokes above.” We begin a slow walk forward.

  They are identical in height, though not in age. The man in the center has clearly seen many years, while the other two so resemble him, it would be impossible to think them anything but sons. All three have my fair skin, my gray eyes. Their thick, dark hair, far from my matted dreadlocks, gathers in back and falls long behind them, swishing as they walk.

  They’re short, short like me. Short and kind and simple, dressed in rough-spun buttoned tan shirts and loose-fitting pants. With cords around the waist and gloves on their hands, the men don’t terrify. Yes, their dress is odd, their hair unusual, but they strike me as … normal.

  They stop in front of us and say nothing, though their gazes make frequent trips to Wren.

  Jasper leans over. “Do ya reckon they speak our speak?”

  “We do.” The old one steps forward and lays a hand on Wren’s forehead. His eyes glaze, and he nods to his sons.

  “Thank you for carrying Wren. Will you allow us to take her the rest of the way?”

  “Listen.” Jasper turns away from him. “You might know her name, but I don’t know yours, and I’ve been carrying this lady too far … I can’t have anything happen to her.”

  “You’ll see her again shortly.” He touches the back of her head. “But not unless you allow us to help her.”

  I squeeze Jasper’s arm. “We’ve done all we can. You couldn’t have done more.”

  Jasper bends over and whispers in Wren’s ear, “You stay with us, lady.” He hands her to the sons, who together grasp her beneath the shoulders and knees. They carry her awkwardly toward a cleft in the rock wall and slip into the shadows.

  “Whoa.” Jasper lumbers after them. “Where did you take her?”

  “No place that you can follow. Not yet.” The older man gestures to Jasper. “Come back, friend.” He pauses. “And to you, young Luca, welcome to our home. Look at you.” He strokes my cheek, and his eyes roam my face. He steps to the side and faces Jasper. “Jasper, you are also most welcome to call this your dwelling.”

  “You know us all,” I say.

  He smiles in answer. “You may call me whatever you like, though most say Etria.” He gestures over his shoulder. “Many wait for you. May we proceed?”

  I want to. I feel so comfortable with this man, though one look at Jasper and I know he doesn’t share my peace. Besides, Father never told me I should follow a greeter once I arrived.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I wish I could. I need to find, at least I think I need to find … Oh, Wren told me to reach the Water Rats and the Aquifer. Could you point out where they could be found?”

  “Yes. I’ll take you to them.” He spins and walks away.

  “Not trusting that man,” Jasper whispers.

  “That’s wise,” Etria calls back without breaking stride. “I haven’t yet given you reason to!”

  “Well, the directions end here,” I say. “Maybe he’s the … the Rat keeper, or something. Maybe he keeps them all locked up.”

  “Locked up?” Etria’s already out of a normal man’s earshot, but he laughs deep and rich.

  “It doesn’t seem as though we’ll have any private conversations.” I yank on Jasper’s arm. “Come on. For Wren’s sake, come on.”

  A half hour passes, or maybe it’s an hour. Time blurs below. It’s
unclear whether danger or safety lies before us, but as Seward said, we’re past the point of trusting. Besides, I have no more directions. Ahead, Etria stops and stretches. “I’d forgotten how refreshing a walk can be.”

  Ahead, the stone beneath my feet comes to a sudden end. My eyes sparkle, and Jasper curses.

  I couldn’t have said it any better …

  We stare out over a shimmering sea. An ocean. A magnificent lake with gentle swells tinged yellow and red, rivaling the most beautiful of sunsets above.

  The painting … Wren’s painting. She must’ve been standing right here when she painted it.

  And through the middle, a path of translucent stones pokes above the waterline — flat, smooth, and stretching clear to the far end.

  Etria raises his palms to the sea. “Luca, meet the Aquifer.”

  “Beautiful.” Jasper bends over and dips in his hand.

  “By it, all life on earth is sustained,” Etria says. “Including yours. You two must be very thirsty by now. Drink.”

  Jasper and I stare at each other. I’m first to find voice. “Freshwater? This is all drinkable?”

  “Of course. We release liquid-state water to a depth of a few meters above the Aquifer for beauty sake. Its source, the layer of hardened rock from which it is extracted, lies below. It stretches thousands of feet deep and spreads out hundreds of miles wide. We mine the fresh water and propel it up to your diverters.” He points, and I blink.

  Exploding out of the Aquifer on both the right and left, two columns of water rise from the sea. Cylindrical waterspouts hundreds, maybe thousands of feet tall, bend and twist, sucking water toward the rocky ceiling.

  “Amazing what can be done, is it not?” He gazes at the top of the columns. “The waterspouts strike rock, where our suction plates draw the water farther on, seeping toward your world through cracks and fissures until it’s ten feet from the surface. Your pumps and diverters take it from there.” His face is proud. “You stand before the highest point of the world’s only attainable aquifer.” Etria bends, scoops up a handful of water, and drinks. I need no more urging. I scoop up water with both hands. Jasper drops to his knees and laps like a dog. The taste is cool and wet and perfect.