by Robin Jarvis
Miss Boston scrunched up her face as the salty deluge battered her, but keeping one eye half open she saw in the distance a most incredible and awesome sight.
Towering in the night sky, forming from the insane, lashing sea, was one colossal wave. Slowly and horribly the immense mountain of brine grew. The north wind raged against its horrendous and shimmering bulk, whipping the surrounding waters into the air and hurling them upon the vast glassy slopes of the monstrous, thundering vision.
Higher it soared, its terrible peak rearing into the starlit sky until the snowy, foam-capped crown vanished from sight.
Before its huge and deadly magnificence, the boat was like a minuscule insect. The titanic wave filled their entire vision and an icy gale blasted about them. Yet even as they watched in dread and disbelief, the incredible nightmare trembled and shook. With a deafening roar that ripped through the night, the sheer wall of water toppled and fell.
Tarr threw his hands before his face and Miss Boston prayed silently as they waited for their destruction.
The fierce thunder mounted and the freezing gale tore and plucked at them, but the violent doom that they expected failed to happen.
Cautiously, Tarr lowered his hands and stared. "By Gow!" he whispered incredulously.
The titanic wave had curled in upon itself and was even now spinning over the sea. But the spiralling, vertical whirlpool maintained its position in the water, diminishing neither in bulk nor height and as Tarr watched, a dark circle appeared directly in the rolling centre.
"Deeps take us!" he breathed as the wheeling fissure widened and became a huge black mouth.
The herald mocked him coldly. "That is exactly what will happen."
Miss Boston gazed at the great, churning vortex that loomed ever closer and the rush of the reeling waters beat against her ear-drums.
"Behold the gateway to their Majesties!" the herald laughed above the squall. "Now does the peril truly begin!"
Caught in the inescapable pull of the whirling nightmare, the little boat flew into its ominous shadow and the yawning cavern of the rumbling gateway reared high over their heads.
All other sounds were lost as the spiralling tunnel sucked the twisting gale into its throat. Up to the whirling threshold the boat sped, and the rolling curves of the monstrous wave closed around them.
The vessel rocked and jerked and the lantern swung madly at the prow, its light glimmering in sapphire streaks over the surrounding spinning gloom.
Then with a lurch the sea dropped and the boat teetered on the brink of oblivion. For an instant, Tarr and the old lady glimpsed only a black void, and then the craft shot down into the darkness beneath the waves.
Into the cold realm of the Triad the little boat travelled, the spiralling tunnel created by the limitless power of the Deep Ones drawing it swiftly further into the uncharted reaches of the sea.
It was a mad, bouncing ride. Miss Boston's stomach turned over a dozen times as they descended and though at first she had been mortally afraid, gradually she began to look curiously about her and actually started to relish the bone-jolting, nerve-jangling journey.
Beyond the twisting walls of the spiralling vortex, strange sights were momentarily illuminated by the boat's lantern and the old lady marvelled at the wonders that were revealed to her.
Dim wrecks of ancient ships flashed beyond the coiling water—old galleons teeming with colourful fish that glinted with rainbow brilliance as they darted into the sweeping beams of light.
Then they were lost far behind and beneath the wooden boat a bottomless chasm opened in the ocean floor.
In a great swooping arc, the swirling tunnel plunged downwards and the sides of the drowned canyon raced above them. Deeper the boat hurtled and in the gaping trench hideous creatures swam in the darkness. Within the crevices gnawed into the chasm wall, sickly green lights glowed and bulging eyes glared at the snaking pathway that frothed and boiled through their dismal territories.
Miss Boston clasped her hands before her—enchanted at the unfolding spectacle. Bloated, distorted shapes passed overheard; weird undiscovered monsters of the deep that no human eye had ever seen—ghastly submerged islands of coral-encrusted blubber, grown vast and terrifying in the absolute dark.
As the boat shot through the writhing channel, a huge barnacle-covered fin broke through the round churning walls, slicing the foaming water in half. Miss Boston and Tarr were drenched and glanced up at the immense calamitous shape uncertainly.
"Fear not," the herald assured them, "the watch-dogs of my masters are inquisitive—nothing more. We shall not be harmed."
The great, malformed fin withdrew into the blackness once more and the boat skimmed forward undamaged, although the old lady and the aufwader were soaked to the skin.
Abruptly the tunnel emerged from the chasm and the dim, deep green of a warm ocean now spiralled about them. Travelling parallel to the reefs below, the boat's jarring jolts subsided and swiftly but steadily it journeyed.
Miss Boston removed the sopping hat from her head and wrung it out over the side. About them she began to see broken fragments of ancient architecture lying amongst the coral, and corroded columns of marble rose upon either side of the churning passageway.
Between the great, stately archways of a forgotten civilisation they sped. Fallen statues of primeval gods sprawled on the ocean bed and ruined temples choked with waving weed reared in the distance. Throughout this decaying country wound majestic colonnades, high bronze towers speared from the murky verdigris of their crumbling desolation, and palaces that were once the residences of vengeful kings and proud princes now appeared grim and forbidding—the abodes of many-eyed monsters.
"Fascinating!" Miss Boston declared, staring at the eerie, deserted kingdom. "What was this place? What happened here?"
In a chilling, whispering tone, the herald answered, "Once 'twas a populous city, mightiest upon the earth. Before even the first of the aufwaders set foot on the shores of Whitby, this place flourished. Learned were the scholars and fearless were the conquering kings. Held in high favour with the Lords of the Deep were they and much wisdom did they teach these nobles of early man."
The ruins were left behind as the boat careered along and Miss Boston glanced back at the disappearing city sorrowfully. "How was it destroyed?" she asked.
"The serpent came," the cloaked figure replied darkly. "Morgawrus laid the continent to waste and drowned it in the deeps. Thus did the fell dragon of the ancient world incur my masters' wrath and they marched against it unto the very coast of thy home."
"Morgawrus did that?" Miss Boston repeated, and she looked dubiously at Tarr, but the aufwader's face was set and he made no indication that he had seen or heard anything.
Further through the seething tunnel the boat sailed and, deep in thought, Miss Boston waited for the journey to end.
Around them the sea grew darker, yet ahead, rising from the ocean floor, a midnight blackness began to take shape.
As the old lady stared, she saw that they were speeding towards a gigantic mountain of rock. Its sheer sides were almost vertical and she could see that the spinning pathway was winding unerringly towards it.
Faster the boat raced until only the massive crags and cliffs of the mountain filled her vision. Ever onward the vessel rushed, tearing at a breakneck speed, and the old lady was sure they would be smashed against the cruel slopes.
Enormous boulders rocketed closer, then at the last moment, there was an opening in the rock and into this the whirling tunnel swept.
Suddenly the boat lurched and trembled as it shot into a series of dimly-lit grottoes. The enveloping, spiralling vortex began to revolve more slowly and abruptly the glimmering walls came splashing about the sides of the wooden craft as huge bubbles burst against the prow.
Drifting now upon the swirling eddies within a rocky tunnel, the boat floated lazily forward.
"Are we nearly there?" Miss Boston asked. "It would appear we are slowing down."
Even as she said it, they were propelled into a cavernous chamber whose vaulted roof was lit by hundreds of lanterns. The pillared walls and lofty ceiling were embedded with quartz and mother-of-pearl and the lustrous surface rejoiced in the sapphire lights and made the chamber blaze like a cloudless sky. Yet beyond the farthest archway, the whole of one gigantic wall was completely black, no lamps flickered there and no reflected gleam pierced the engulfing gloom.
Miss Boston had the distinct impression that they had entered a kind of cathedral and she blinked at the sheer, ravishing beauty of it. From every corner, there echoed a constant music of flowing crystal water and the very air was sweet and wholesome.
Into the centre of this wondrous cavern the boat sailed and the old lady knew where they were headed.
Rising from the lake of clear, cold water was a tall finger of rock and winding about the column's girth was a flight of roughly-hewn stone steps.
Gently, the boat bumped against a wide ledge at the foot of the stairs and the herald bowed. "This is your journey's end," he murmured. "It is bidden that you alight here."
Tarr gave the figure a stern glance, then climbed expertly on to the bottommost step, his feet sploshing in the water that sluiced over the edge. The aufwader's back was aching and his legs were cramped and numb but he said nothing and leaned upon his staff, waiting for Miss Boston to join him.
"Thank you so much," she clucked to the herald as if she was merely dismounting from a bus. "You took it a little brisk at times but I wouldn't have missed a second!"
The old lady rose uncertainly and the boat tipped to one side as she scrambled for the firm safety of the ledge. Holding on to Tarr's outstretched hand she managed the feat at last, then realised that she had left her walking stick in the boat.
"Botheration!" she uttered, stooping down to retrieve it.
Unexpectedly, the hooded messenger leaned towards her and in a low, warning voice hissed, "Beware my Lord of the Frozen Wastes."
"I beg your pardon," she cried in astonishment, "what do you mean?"
"Too late!" he whispered fearfully. "They are with us!"
The water around the boat foamed and boiled and to Miss Boston's consternation, the craft began to sink.
"Quick!" she called. "Get out, man, whilst you can!"
As the water spilled over the sides and poured into the little craft, the hidden face turned to her. "Be not afraid for me," the messenger said. "I am commanded to leave thee now." Down he plunged and the frothing waters closed over the sea-green hood.
Alone with Tarr upon the central column of rock, Miss Boston gaped but the aufwader was unconcerned about the fate of their guide.
"'Im's a being of the deep," he uttered gruffly. "Come—we'd best climb these steps."
Around the pillar of rock they cautiously ascended until finally they were standing on the wide, flat summit and gazing down at the smooth surface of the lake far below.
"Easy!" Miss Boston exclaimed. "That's nothing compared to the abbey steps. Before my illness I used to climb them every day, you know."
Tarr ignored her and stared tetchily around them. "Wheer are they?" he mumbled. "Wheer are them divils hidin'?"
"Mr Shrimp," the old lady urged, "I think you should be more careful. Discourtesy never pays."
"Bah!" Tarr snorted, stamping his staff upon the rock. "Ah'm fed up wi' waitin'! If'n the Deep Ones wanna hear what ah've got to say then why don't they show thesselves?"
Immediately the cavern began to tremble and from beyond the furthest arch where the wall was dark and smothered with shadow, a fabulous radiance suddenly welled up. Into the immense chamber flooded a rich and glorious golden light that mingled with the azure beams of the lamps and bathed everything in warmth and splendour.
"Moonkelp!" Tarr murmured, squinting into the beautiful, scintillating glare.
Miss Boston shielded her eyes, but when they adjusted to the delicious brightness, she saw that the far wall was not made of rock but was a solid sheet of water, held back by the grace of the almighty Triad.
The huge, quivering barrier was a blaze of magical light, which gradually dwindled, and then through the rippling liquid, three monstrous shapes shimmered into view.
Miss Boston wished she had brought her binoculars with her. She suspected that she and Tarr were looking on a scene that was in reality far removed and profoundly remote. Yet slowly the blurred and indistinct outlines became clearer and assumed the forms of three gargantuan thrones.
They were tortuously wrought in towering branches of blood-red coral and great gnarled shells clustered over the minarets that thrust high into the wild seas. But seated upon them and silhouetted by the light of the moonkelp which now bloomed continually behind the majestic thrones were the shadowy, writhing figures of the Lords of the Deep and Dark.
The old lady lowered her eyes humbly but the leader of the aufwaders stared with stubborn defiance at the terrible powers of the world, undaunted by their ghastly and horrific aspect.
Never in all his long life had Tarr imagined that one day he would actually stand before the Triad, and though his mind reeled at the awesome spectacle, his courage did not fail him.
The mass of tentacles stirred upon the central throne. Within the aufwader's and Miss Boston's thoughts, a rumbling bass voice reverberated and blasted, forcing them to stagger backwards as if struck by an unseen blow.
"Hail to thee Tarr, son of Athi!" the compelling and painful greeting echoed in their heads. "Descendant of the line of Mereades, thou art most welcome here. It is good to look once more upon the noble countenance of thy kind. Too long have my brethren and I been deprived of thy honourable company."
Tarr and the old lady recovered from the unexpected invasion of their minds and peered through the crystal waters at the Lord of the Circling Seas who addressed them.
"Glad were the days before the breaking of the laws," the vision continued. "Venomous was that time when Eska was born in the drylands and we were sundered."
At this Tarr grew angry and he stamped his foot to be heard. "Aye!" he cried, "and the poison of tha curse still blanches us. Ain't it time fer the wrongdoing to be forgiven? Does yer know how many o' my kind—how many o' them 'noble countenances'—have been blighted unto death and gone screaming to fritful agonies 'cos of one misguided blunder? In your own hallowed names can tha not see what ruin tha've brought about? Are the seas not girt enough—mun they be made the fuller by our uncounted tears?"
The three immense shapes listened gravely to his embittered and furious outburst, yet as she watched in stupefied silence, Miss Boston saw that the shadowy figure on the left-hand throne stirred restlessly.
"Much love was there betwixt the waders of the shore and the Triad," began the Lord of the Roaring Waters. "In those blessed days thy race were true to their words and stout of heart."
"Mebbe!" Tarr shouted. "But of the paltry few that are left, theer's still heroes and warriors amongst us!"
Then the impatient form of the Lord of the Frozen Wastes writhed and finally he spoke.
His voice, when it blistered into the minds of Miss Boston and Tarr, stabbed and sliced like innumerable razors, knifing icily through their thoughts.
"Hearken to the white-haired fool!" he scorned. "Those he speaks of do no more than net fish and search the waters for flotsam. Brave and doughty indeed were the tribes of old, yet remember my brothers how they did prove faithless. The punishment he grumbles against was a just reward for Oona's unpardonable transgression."
Miss Boston shuddered. Having that voice hiss and wheedle inside her head was a loathsome experience.
"Even so," the Lord of the Circling Seas lamented, "grievous indeed would be the day that announced the end of the stunted folk of the shore. I would not wish all traces of their kind to be forever lost."
On his right, the second shadow agreed. "Could not some way be contrived to spare the few that remain and save them from this doom we have laid upon them?"
"Never!" shr
ieked the Lord of the Frozen Wastes. "The crawling maggots are not to be trusted. Ever have they bitten at our divinity. Did not Irl trespass amongst us? And, using knowledge learned at our own halls, he did steal and carry off our most prized treasure, which he secreted and concealed for many years."
"Irl has paid his debt," the central member of the Triad uttered. "Must we condemn all for the actions of the few?"
"Then what of Esau?" the Lord of the Frozen Wastes seethed. "Hast thou forgotten the haughty words he did rail at us when we forbade the union? That dotard did nearly bring about our destruction. Did the serpent not wake again? Was he not unfettered? For that treacherous act alone the last of the filthy tribes should be doomed into oblivion!"
His brothers considered all that he had said and in turn they regretfully nodded their agreement. "The creatures are too perfidious," sighed the voice of the Roaring Waters. "What further catastrophes would they bring about if we lifted the mother's curse? No, the time of their great numbers is long past and though I hold those blissful days dear I shall be content to let the memories be glad ones. The race must disappear from the world."
"Then a foul damnation on yers all!" Tarr yelled, shaking his staff at the shimmering wall. "Ah didna come hither to beg fer the lives of me granddaughter an' her bairn—just to say this. Listen well and listen long, tha black-hearted fiends! Tha knows nowt! Down theer in tha cosy dark, a-hoardin' that glisty moonkelp and throwin' tha weight about—well, we doesna need yer any more an' never did!
"Does tha really not know why Irl stole that accursed shinin' weed in the first instance? To finish off the task tha bungled! Aye, the enchantments which yer placed on Morgawrus to keep him snorin' for eternity wore thin and so the most cunnin' an' artful of my kind took it on himself to make it reet. Yet all he needed were a bit o' that stuff yonder and he knew tha were so greedy yer'd nivver part wi' the merest scrap. So he up and steals it from under your very noses and goes on to fashion a charm of his own devising to keep the villain asleep under them cliffs. Then what does yer do, eh? Tha drags him under and drowns the very one what saved yer.