by Janis Mackay
The monster’s entrance was heralded with a loud blowing of trumpets, a clashing of cymbals and a great deal of cheering and bowing – and on account of the lashing tentacles, a great deal of killing too. Magnus Fin did not bow but stared at this terrible creature. He saw, as more of him came into view, that draped around his long pulsing body were hundreds of plastic-bottle belts or necklaces – except the monster had no neck. And around his awful tentacles he wore bracelets made of tin cans and junk. One of his trinkets looked like a fridge.
Magnus Fin felt sick. This awful sight was far worse than he had imagined when Miranda had told her tale. She had told him the monster wanted to be human. So here he was dressed in all the rubbish that had once belonged to humans. Magnus Fin pushed himself further back into the shadows and kept a grasp of his moon-stone. Though the entrance hall to the king’s palace was bigger than a football stadium, the monster and his thrashing junk-adorned tentacles only just fitted in. In comparison, Magnus Fin was tiny, hardly bigger than the vile monster’s one yellow tooth.
Magnus pressed himself still further back, desperately hoping everyone had forgotten about him. But then, with dread sinking into his tummy, he saw that every creature had now turned to look at him. The very reason for the monster’s arrival was to see the two-legged prisoner – the boy who could breathe underwater.
“Where’s the human?” a voice like the grating of metal bellowed out and the water shook. The one pulsing eye, quivering like a jellyfish, scanned the room. It wobbled as it searched back and forth like a periscope. It seemed to pant. Suddenly the jelly-red eye fixed on the small crumpled shadow in the corner.
“HEH–EH!” the monster cried. The eye had found Magnus Fin. Instantly the long green tongue flicked out, wound itself around Magnus Fin’s legs and yanked him up close to the horrible one red eye.
Had Magnus not been holding tight to his moon-stone, he would have died of fright. Magnus Fin stared at the monster, thinking as he did so that he had never set eyes on anything so hideous.
The monster stared back, his eye pulsing out and in, his tentacles razoring excitedly from side to side, killing whatever chanced to get in his way, which happened to be hundreds of crabs all busy cleaning.
The monster wobbled his head around as if showing off his crown. Then he attempted a smile, grimaced instead, and exposed one sharp yellow tooth and a horrible stench. “You admire my crown?” he hissed, drawing the boy even closer in the tongue-vice grip in which he held him captive.
“Um – yes, nice crown, but – ouch!” said Magnus Fin, staring into the red eye as he squirmed around. “You’re hurting me. Can you let my legs go and control your tails? You are killing the crabs.”
The monster had never, ever been spoken to in such a way. He found it amusing. Instantly he obeyed. Now he unwound his tongue and let Magnus Fin float about in front of him. The monster was fascinated by his two-legged prisoner. He watched the two tiny legs tread water and the two thin arms make circles.
The boy was unaware of the huge advantage he had over the monster. Magnus Fin had what the monster so dearly desired. He had two legs, two arms, a human heart and a human brain. He could breathe on the land, and under the water.
The monster tried to copy Magnus, but he had no arms, and when he tried to tread water with his tentacles he killed a few more hundred crabs. Seeing the poor creatures smashed as though they were no more than toys in the hands of an angry child, Magnus Fin felt his heart burst.
“That’s cruel!” shouted Magnus Fin. “How could you? Stop it.”
“That’s cruel – how could you? Stop it? Oh! Heh-heh-heh, oh, how sweet,” said the monster, trying to talk just like Magnus Fin, but his voice sounding no more human than the sound of a knife scratched on a blackboard.
“Feed the human,” commanded the monster. “Look after him.” Immediately the lobsters surrounded Magnus Fin, and with their pincers hooked into various parts of his wetsuit, they swiftly transported him to another room. The eels swam ahead pushing doors open. Every room seemed to be massive. As they glided through the palace, the boy gazed at the lavish jewels lining every wall.
“Yes, opals and rubies and gold, very nice, eh?” said one of his transporters, the red lobster nearest to Magnus Fin’s face. “His most great majesty is very fond of treasure.”
Magnus could only nod to the informative lobster before he was taken in to a banqueting hall and pushed down before an enormous table. Pressing him on to the chair, the lobster clamped its pincer across the boy’s arm, like a policeman’s handcuff.
“Ouch!” Magnus Fin yelled.
“Oops! Sorry,” said the lobster, opening its pincer, “I’m not used to weak human flesh.”
Magnus Fin rubbed his arm, thankful for his thick rubber wetsuit.
“Well, you’d better eat then,” the lobster said, and Magnus Fin stared at the mountain of food. The table, the upturned hull of a sunken ship, was so loaded with food it sunk in the middle. Magnus Fin, with the fear gone, found he was starving. He feasted, sucking oysters and mussels from their shells, while wrapping his feet around the chair to keep himself down.
As he ate, a sweet ringing music filled the hall. Magnus Fin gazed around him. In the murky water he could see nothing at first, but gradually his pupils penetrated the dark. A beam of eye-light fell upon a girl. She was seated on a rock in an alcove of the room singing a mournful song. Looking around him, Magnus Fin could see more and still more girls with moon-white skin and long black hair, each one more beautiful than the one before, and each one seated in an alcove behind bars. Some of them played harps. Some played silver flutes. Some blew softly into conch shells. One in particular, with deep sad black eyes and black hair trailing down her back, sang softly and stared at Magnus. She reminded him of someone, but he wasn’t sure who.
With a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach, Magnus Fin suddenly realised – these were the selkies, and they were all prisoners of the false king. Somewhere here was his cousin Aquella, the girl who had set out to try and find him when he was three years old.
Magnus Fin wanted to call out to them, to tell them that he was Magnus Fin, son of Ragnor, grandson of Miranda, but as soon as Magnus opened his mouth to speak, his small voice was swallowed by the groan of the monster.
The bulging red eye, the flicking green tongue, the stretched black face, all came groaning and smiling horribly into the banqueting hall. The selkies ceased their music. The monster drew his neck and head up to the table, where it crashed down with a thud, making the food still left there jump up into the water and float around. The monster peered at the boy with his shuddering eye.
“You are my guest,” he said, his wide mouth gaping up and down with each word. “Teach me to be like you, human.”
Magnus Fin leant his chin on his hand so he could hold his moon-stone undetected. The monster tried to copy the boy and brought one of his awful tentacles up to rest under his mouth. But the monster couldn’t sit like the boy. Every time he tried he failed, and with each failure he grew more and more irritated.
“I am the greatest king that ever lived under the sea. I’d be a billionaire on the land with my magnificent treasure chest. I am the most powerful, the most feared, but I am bored with the sea. It’s dark down here. It stinks. And there’s no one interesting to talk to. But I have seen your sunken ships. I have seen your great cruise liners, your oilrigs. Lots I brought down. One whip of my tentacles and bang – crash – down they come. I have seen what wonders you have on the land, what riches you possess, what magnificent buildings you have. I want to rule the land. Yes, I want to be king there too. It will be fun, more fun than here. I need to breathe in air, that’s all. I need to know your secret, you tiny two-legged thing. That’s why you’re still alive. I’ve tried before, you know. I’ve brought down sea captains, sailors, fishermen, swimmers, surfers; I’ve pulled them all under. It’s so easy. But they all died, so quickly, every stupid one. Only you, tiny thing, have stayed alive. So you see, hu
man child, you are my teacher.”
With the terrible monster so close, Magnus Fin was now quaking like a leaf. The stench of the monster’s breath was like a sewer. Magnus could only stop from fainting by keeping one eye on the sad and gentle-eyed maiden in the alcove. Magnus couldn’t think of anything to say. He scratched at his face.
In a flash one of the awful tentacles of the monster curled up. In horror Magnus Fin saw that the monster was trying to scratch his own face – and failing miserably.
“Too bad!” he screamed, almost deafening Magnus. “I know you humans have machines for everything, so who needs hands?” Suddenly the monster stopped talking and stared at Magnus Fin’s eyes. It felt unnerving having one eye stare at two eyes. Especially when that one eye was the most hideous pulsing bloodshot thing you could imagine.
“Of course,” roared the monster. “Heh! I get it! It’s your eyes, isn’t it? That’s it, heh-heh, I’ve got it. One eye for this world and one for the dry world: that world up there, where you have great buildings, huge palaces, cars, aeroplanes, everything! Heh! I’m a genius. I’ve worked it out. I might not have stupid little hands but I have a brain. You thought you’d keep it from me. You didn’t know I was so clever, eh?”
The tentacles swished through the water. Magnus Fin squirmed in his seat and felt sick. “I’ll take your eyes,” hissed the monster. Coming so menacingly close, the boy could smell greed in his stinking hot breath. “Being blind won’t be too bad. It’s so dark and boring down here anyway; there isn’t much to see. And you’ll still have your little ears. I’ll leave my girls down here to sing for you and you can keep your little legs and your little arms. These girls, they aren’t really human. Not really. I thought they were. They tricked me. They are seals and I have got their dirty little seal skins. But you – you are a human. I know it. I can smell it. Now I, king of the sea, command you: give me your eyes!”
Magnus Fin kept hold of his moon-stone. “Free the seal women first,” he blurted out. The monster laughed – a horrid thin high laugh. Magnus Fin blinked. He thought of the monster ripping out his two eyes. Though the thought filled him with horror, he managed to face the monster and remain calm. “Set them all free,” he said again, “and give them their skins.”
“Oh, all right, all right,” replied the monster huffily. “Who wants half-humans when I can have it all? I was going to marry one of them but I couldn’t make up my mind, so I kept them all, even though their mournful songs were getting on my nerves. I thought I could be like them and find my way on to the land but, heh-heh, their silly little furs wouldn’t fit me.”
Magnus Fin stared at the hideous creature, trying not to show the horror he felt. “We,” continued the false king, “you could say, had to damage a skin, but it was all in the name of science – heh-heh! If my little human says they must be released then it will be so. But it means you will have no music when I leave you behind. Nothing to hear, nothing to see. It will be very boring. But if you insist – guards!” he bellowed, shaking up the murky waters. Ten hammerhead sharks appeared, looking ready to tear the flesh from the human’s bones. “Free the seal girls,” commanded the king, “and give them their skins – at least the skins we still have.”
“Are you absolutely sure, your gracious majesty?” said one of the sharks who knew how much the monster enjoyed his singing girls.
“Are you daring to question your gracious majesty of the deep? Are you?” the false king bellowed. “Their stupid songs bore me – weepy stuff that’s been annoying me for ages. Go on! Get on with it.” The din was deafening.
“Well, if your gracious most reverent majesty is sick of the girls, how about us hammerheads having them?” said the shark, bowing to kiss the monster’s tentacles. “We like a bit of a song to send us to sleep.”
“You cheeky, ungrateful, ugly, good-for-nothing idiot! If I am not going to have my little singing girls, you’re certainly not going to have them. One more bit of cheek from you and I’ll pull your teeth out. Understand?”
“Not my teeth. Please, your majesty, not my teeth. I’ll do it. Of course I’ll do it! I’ll set them free right away. Your most royal highness magnificent king,” said the shark, whimpering and trying to kiss the king’s tentacles.
“Oi! Get back here. Unlock the cages and you can forget about your slobbering kisses. In fact you can forget my tentacles all together. Gone, gone, gone. Soon they will be gone – and good riddance. I’m sick of them. Soon I’ll get two legs and you’ll kiss them and then I’ll be out of here. Heh-heh-heh!”
The sharks bared their teeth, and with them they finally tore the cages and opened the rusty doors of the alcoves. The girls in the cages stared in fear and wonder. They dropped their harps, dropped their flutes and slowly, when they saw the sharks were not about to eat them, stretched their arms out into the water.
“And don’t forget their seal skins,” shouted young Magnus Fin, trying to make his tiny voice sound powerful and commanding.
The monster swung his head round and fixed his one eye on his prisoner. “I’ve changed my mind. I’ll keep the skins for my fur coat. I’ll need one to wear in the big city in the winter when it snows. I might catch a cold.” Then the creature laughed his terrible laugh.
Magnus Fin saw the girls huddle together now in a corner of the great room. A part of him didn’t want them to go. Then he would feel more alone than ever. But he could almost hear their voices begging for their skins. He repeated his command.
“You’ll be able to get another coat,” Magnus said. “Give them back their seal skins.”
“Oh, all right then,” said the monster. “If you insist, spoilsport. Lobsters, unlock the fur cage and throw the skins out. I’ll get a better coat. Go on, get on with it. What are you gawking at?”
The lobsters were gawking because never in their petrified lives had they seen anyone dare give orders to their king. Frantically they scurried to the great chamber where a mountain of seal skins was piled up.
As soon as the skins were flung into the water the girls, free of their cages, scrambled after them, desperate to find their own skins. The waters frothed and the human sounds changed into the sounds of yelping. The white skin of the girls changed into dark fur. Within moments the maidens had found their seal skins and the young selkies swam to freedom. They swam out of the hall, out of the palace, home to Sule Skerrie, to bear word to Miranda that they were now free but that Magnus Fin, son of Ragnor, was held captive and would soon be forced to give his eyes to the awful false king.
Every seal maiden swam for freedom – everyone that was, except one. Aquella could not find her seal skin. Hers was the skin the monster had damaged in one of his failed attempts to become human. It now lay in tatters on the palace floor, only useful as a warm blanket for a baby shark.
“Oh dearie me! Aquella,” said the monster, pouting, seeing the young maiden frantically searching for her seal skin but not finding it. “Still here? Can’t find your seal skin then? Oh, the silly sharks must have damaged it at that last fancy-dress party. Never mind. You know I have a soft spot for you and your singing. When I become human I’ll take you with me. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. It’ll be lonely up there on the land all alone. I’ll take you with me.” The monster flicked out one of its tentacles, whipped the edge around the weeping girl and drew Aquella fiercely up beside him. “Pretty one.”
Magnus Fin’s stomach fell into his feet. Aquella? That was the name he had heard Miranda mention. And this was the girl who had been staring at him while she sang her mournful songs. Magnus wanted to tell the monster to let her go immediately, but it seemed his power had left him. He opened his mouth but no sound came out, and any words that were spoken were immediately swallowed into silence by the heavy water.
The monster king glared at the boy. “Shut up, little human. I’ve had enough of you. Do you honestly think you can command me? Me? The great king? Heh-heh-heh, what a joke. I thought it was funny having a tiny squirt like you giving orders to a great ro
yal like me. It amused me, but enough’s enough. Aquella, get back into your cage. Sharks, lock her up.”
And with one quick flick of his razor-sharp tentacles, he threw her back into the cage, where a shark swam menacingly towards her and bit the cage closed.
Chapter Twenty-one
Without the sweet ringing music and the presence of the singing girls, a cold eerie feeling fell over the false king’s palace. The stagnant water smelled of fear. If there had been anything good, gentle and beautiful in this massive place it had gone, or most of it had. Aquella grasped the bars of her cage and wept. The killer whales hovered at the doorway of the banqueting hall, hoping for leftovers. The hammerhead sharks lurked in the alcoves where the maidens had been and where now only one remained, crying as though her heart would break.
Hundreds of crabs were now busy scuttling over the enormous table, clearing the food into smaller upturned boat hulls for the sharks to polish off. At a sign, the ravenous sharks came in, biting at leftovers wildly in a feasting frenzy. In seconds the food was gone. Then the crabs swept away the shattered remains of their comrades and, Magnus Fin noticed, they had tears in their eyes as they did so.
“Now then, little two-legged thing, will I cut out your eyes or pluck them out, hmmm? What will it be?” The monster came closer, his one eye pulsating like a geyser about to spout.
Magnus Fin, still seated at the banqueting table, kept a tight grip on his moon-stone, holding it as though he was simply touching his neck. Not blinded by fear, Magnus found ideas jumped into his mind. It was easy to see that the great ugly monster, for all his riches and power, had no wisdom.