The Ingo Chronicles: Stormswept

by Helen Dunmore

  “Jenna!”

  She turns. I can’t see her face but she sees me and recognises me. She plunges forward and starts to swim for us, and at the same moment I catch a dark shape from the corner of my eye. I turn. A huge wave has begun to form, rearing up beyond the surf. It rises and rises, shaping itself, and as I watch in horror its crest curls into foam. It’s going to break. I’ve no chance of riding it and with Digory on my back I can’t duck-dive through it. Jenna is struggling to reach us but she won’t make it. She’s seen the wave but she still won’t turn back.

  “Jenna!” I scream, as the wave hangs over us, dark as midnight and bigger than any wave I’ve seen in my life, and then smashes down, wiping us out.

  I am on sand. Everything hurts. I lift my head painfully. Where’s Digory?

  “Digory!” I choke.

  “Mor!” comes Jenna’s voice, and I turn. There she is, flat out on the sand farther up the beach. She’s safe.

  “Have you got Digory?”

  “No – is he with you?”

  It’s like a nightmare. I want to scream out his name but my voice won’t work. I cough up more water, and get up on my knees. I feel awful. My chin hurts. I’m going to be sick…

  I retch up water until there’s nothing left. All the time I can hear Jenna crying as she leans over me, holding my hair back from my face. Trembling, I wipe my mouth and look up fearfully to scan the moonlit sand. The waves are huge. Digory hasn’t got a chance if he’s still in the sea.

  “Mor! Mor!” pipes a voice as thin as a sandpiper’s. “Mor! Mor!” My heart floods with relief. Digory. It’s him, he’s alive, he’s not in the water. I can’t see him but he keeps on calling: “Mor, Mor!”

  “Wait, Digory, I’m coming!”

  Jenna and I stumble towards the sound. The moonlight plays tricks and every ridge of sand looks like a body. We still can’t see him, and then suddenly a little dark heap that I thought was a pile of seaweed stirs into life. “Mor! Mor!” the voice pipes again.

  I catch Digory up in my arms and squeeze the breath out of him. He’s crying and my heart pounds so loudly with terror and relief that it’s like a drum in my ears.

  “Mor, Mor!” He is shaking with sobs. “Am I dead?”

  “Of course you’re not dead. You got caught by the wave but you’re fine.”

  “I thought I was going to be dead.”

  “I know. Me too. Let’s get you home.”

  I pick him up. He feels so little. The sea could so easily have swept him away. What would I have said to Mum if I’d come home without him?

  “You’re so nice to me in Ingo, Mor,” he whispers in my ear.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You never get angry.”

  “Oh…” I put this idea away to think about later, and walk slowly back with him over the flat wet sand, Jenna beside us, clinging on to me as if she thinks I’m going to disappear again. I can sense all the questions seething in her mind but she doesn’t ask them. On and on we walk, over flat wet sand – so much sand, shining in the moonlight as if the sea has gone way, way out, farther than it’s ever gone before…

  The causeway! If the tide’s this far down, the causeway will be clear. They’ll be able to drive across and then—

  “Jenna, there’s no time to take Digory back. The tide’s down and they’ll be coming. You’ve got to help me get Malin back into the sea now.”

  “But we’ve got to take him back to Mum first. She’s—”

  “I know.” A vision of Mum’s terribly upset face floats in my mind, and there’s Dad too, exhausted, searching and searching for Digory as hope drains out of his heart. I push them away. “We can’t, Jenna. There isn’t time. Digory’ll have to come with us.”

  That’s when I realise something else.

  “Jenna, how did you know we were in the sea?”

  “I thought I heard you calling,” says Jenna in a quick, embarrassed voice, as if she doesn’t quite believe what she’s saying. “I kept hearing your voice. It was like you were pulling me here, pulling me to you.”

  “I was calling,” I say slowly, remembering the moment when I cried out for her in my mind, “but I didn’t think you could hear me.”

  “You know I always can,” says Jenna, very quietly.

  There isn’t any time, but for a second we stop and hug as if we’ve been parted for a hundred years. My sister, the other half of me, my twin. How could I ever have thought of not trusting you? And then, as if there’s never been any doubt about what she’ll decide, Jenna says, “Quick, Mor, we’ve got to hurry. Is the groundsheet by the rocks?”

  She’s coming, she’s going to do it, Jenna’s helping me… The thoughts jumble like flotsam on a tide of relief as we each take one of Digory’s hands and run towards the far end of the beach and the rocks that hide King Ragworm Pool. The cobbles will be glistening in the moonlight now, making a clear road to the Island from Marazance.

  he moon is brighter than ever as we climb up the rocks. Digory’s promised to stay on the sand, and not move until we come down. Jenna goes up ahead of me, and her moon-shadow falls sharp on my hands. I glance behind me. The sea is wilder than ever, eerily tormented. There are no clouds in the sky but the wind is rising, tearing caps off the waves.

  Jenna’s at the top. I grasp a spur of rock to haul myself up and at that moment Jenna’s moon-shadow must have fallen on the surface of the pool because it boils, thrashes, and Malin hurtles upwards with a stone in his upraised hand.

  “Malin! It’s us! It’s me, Morveren.”

  I’m still not sure he knows us. His face is a mask of rage and the muscles stand out on his arms and shoulders. His teeth are bared. I flinch and Jenna shrinks back because we both see that he’s ready to kill or be killed. I remember his words: Where there are humans, there is always betrayal.

  “Malin! It’s Morveren.”

  “Ha!” he cries. It’s a harsh, guttural cry and it makes me even more afraid. His eyes meet mine in the moonlight. I put down the groundsheet and kneel on the rock, leaning over.

  “We’ve come to take you to the sea.”

  “To Ingo,” he says. There is water glistening on his forehead, or maybe they are drops of sweat. His eyes are very bright.

  “Malin, please, we have to hurry.”

  Very slowly, as if his rush from the water has been the last spurt of energy and he has no more, he swims to the rock. I reach out my hand for his and nearly cry out with shock. He has been in the water yet his skin is burning hot. Now he’s close to me I see that his eyes are blank and glittering with fever.

  “Malin, it’s me.”

  “I know you,” he says, frowning with effort.

  “Can you climb out on to the rock? Jenna and I have got the groundsheet. We can carry you down.”

  Even as the words leave my mouth I see there’s no chance of that. I’ll have to get in the water and help him. “Jenna, get down on the ledge. I’ll lift him. We can roll him on to the groundsheet. “Malin, is your wound bad again?” I ask him fearfully, but he shakes his head.

  “I have fever for Ingo,” he says in a harsh, unfamiliar, dried-up voice.

  He’s been in the pool too long. I was stupid, I didn’t understand. All the time I was worrying about his wound healing, and I didn’t think about what it was doing to him, to be out of the sea for so long. No wonder his voice sounds parched. He is on fire. I slip into the water and put my arms around him. If he were human he would be dead already. No human could run a fever like this and survive. The heat of him burns into my skin.

  “Malin, Jenna, listen.” He’s slipping down. I’m going to lose him in a minute. “I’m going to dive to the bottom of the pool then I’ll turn, I’ll kick off as hard as I can and it’ll lift him. Malin, Jenna will catch hold of your hands and then I’ll keep on pushing and we’ll get you out.”

  It’s the only plan I’ve got but even I don’t really think it’s going to work. I dive down. Tonight, King Ragworm Pool tastes choking, fetid, dead,
as if the giant ragworm is still curled there at the bottom, corrupting. I shiver as I sense what it must be like for Malin to be trapped here. I touch the rock with my fingers, then twist sharply into a somersault and kick off as hard as I can from the slimy bottom of the pool, and push Malin upwards. As I do so he gives a lash of his tail and our combined force brings him halfway out of the pool. Jenna grabs his hands, I push, bracing my feet against the rocky side of the pool, she pulls and after a blind, choking struggle he is on the ledge.

  I am trembling as I clamber out of the pool. I’m sure he is hurt. But not a sound escapes from Malin’s lips as we wrap him in the groundsheet.

  “He’s so hot!” says Jenna.

  Malin’s face looks like something carved out of rock. He has gone a long way inside himself, in order to endure our clumsy shoving and pulling. “I’m sorry,” I say to him, “I’m so sorry,” and to my horror a tear drops on to his face. That’s all he needs. He should be the one crying, not me. But he opens his eyes for a flash of a moment, and I know that he recognises me this time, and knows that I’m trying to help him.

  Getting Malin down from the rock is much harder than it was to climb up with him. I have my arms under his, and Jenna has the knotted end of the groundsheet. We go slowly, bracing ourselves as his weight shifts and we feel blindly for the next foothold down. Once Jenna slips, teeters and almost falls backwards, but she just manages to throw her weight forward, jarring Malin but landing safe against the rock. I lean forward to wipe the sweat out of my eyes with the back of my hand, still holding Malin.

  “Are you OK, Jen?”

  “Banged my elbow,” she mutters through her teeth, and we go down another half-step, and another. I’m beginning to think it’s going to be all right, we’re going to do it, we’ve only got to get him across the sand, when Jenna says sharply, “Mor. Look behind you.”

  I glance over my shoulder, and freeze. Two lights are moving. They vanish then reappear. Twin lights. Headlights. They’re moving slowly down the track on the other side of the dunes. They are way down the other end of the beach but they are heading towards us. No tractor would be out at this time of night.

  “It’s them,” whispers Jenna.

  I grasp hold of Malin. “We’ve got to get down faster.”

  “But it’ll hurt him—”

  “It’s his only chance.”

  We are too far away for the headlights to pick us out, even if they were turned full on us. We still have a few minutes. Malin’s dead weight slips and slides as we half climb and half slither down the face of the rock, bumping, bruising, but twice as fast as we were before.

  “I’m down!” says Jenna, and the next moment my foot touches sand. As we swing Malin away from the rock I realise I’d completely forgotten about Digory. I call him, and he creeps out from a cleft of the rock.

  “I was hiding.”

  “Quick, stay close to us.” I don’t want to frighten Digory but Jenna’s looking over my shoulder as we start to stagger towards the sea, every muscle in our bodies burning under Malin’s weight.

  “They’re coming! They’re over the dunes,” she says. Her eyes are big and black with fear.

  “Digory, stay here!”

  He’s running around us, getting in the way. Suddenly he dives under Malin and lifts him from below. He wants to help by taking some of Malin’s weight, but he’s getting in my way. Jenna sobs for breath as we break into a half-trot. Iron bands are tightening around my chest. We can’t go any faster. The groundsheet’s slipping and Malin’s a dead weight. I’m scared that he’s unconscious, and then even if we can get him into the sea he won’t be able to swim away.

  I can hear the engine now. The wind scours sand into my eyes but I can’t wipe them.

  “Mor, they’ve seen us!”

  “Run!” The headlights bounce as the vehicle rolls down the beach, engine revving. It’s not a van, it’s a pick-up truck. It’s coming straight at us. “Run!”

  The sea roars and the wind buffets us but all we hear is our panting breath. The sand is wet now. I can’t do this any more, my arms are on fire, I can’t do it but I’ve got to. The wind pushes harder but it’s behind us now, pushing us to the sea. There is black shining water close now.

  A wave licks my feet. Sand churns round our feet as if it wants to hold us back. We stagger and almost fall. Digory is pushing as hard as he can to help.

  “They’re out of the truck!” shouts Jenna above the noise of the wind. I turn to look over my shoulder and see dark figures leaping from the open doors and starting to run. We’re not going to make it. When the tide’s this far out it takes ages to get into deep water.

  “Help me,” I say, not aloud but deep in my mind. I don’t know who I’m talking to, but it’s not Jenna or Digory. “You’ve got to help me.”

  I brace myself, get a tighter hold on Malin and plunge forward. The water’s getting deeper. As it swirls over my knees I hear shouts behind me, hunting cries from a dark place I’ve never been before. The moon glares in my eyes as if it wants to come down and touch the water. The sea is moving too. Surging, lifting, getting deeper.

  “Jenna!”

  We are thigh-deep, waist-deep, sideways on to the tide now. The hunters are in the water. All at once I hear another cry, ahead of me, coming out of the water out the back, beyond the surf. One cry and then another, joining, rising, as wild as the sea itself. Ingo.

  “Jenna, stop!”

  We’ve got to unwrap Malin. If he can’t get out of the groundsheet he’ll die. Fumbling, desperate, we tear off the clinging canvas. Another wave rises, hiding us for a second from the shore.

  “Malin!” I uncover his face: still, carved, remote. He’s gone somewhere I can’t find him. “Malin!”

  I am almost off my feet. The cry of the Mer beats in my ears like a drum as the water lifts me, but it’s too late. A hand grabs my arm. I turn in terror and Aidan Helyer’s face thrusts into mine, savage with triumph, teeth bared.

  “I’ve got you now!” he shouts, and lifts his head to yell to his men, “Over here! Over here!”

  “Malin, swim!” I scream. Digory is around my legs, swimming, pulling off the last of the groundsheet while Jenna hauls at Malin to get him away. “He’s got me!” I scream again. “Leave me, Jen, get Malin and Digory away!”

  I twist in Bran’s dad’s grip. If I can get free a bit I can head-butt him. I’ve let go of Malin but Aidan Helyer is plunging around trying to get hold of him while keeping a tight grip on me. Jenna catches Digory up in her arms, lifting him high out of danger. But where’s Malin? Oh God, I think he’s sunk down, unconscious. I see shadowy figures on the shore and my heart freezes in despair. They’ve got us now. Aidan Helyer swears violently. “You damned vixen!” and sucks his other hand. In the sharp moonlight I see a ring of teethmarks. “Where’s that freak gone? Tell me or I’ll stick your head underwater until you find your tongue!”

  There is a violent swirl in the water. I see a strong seal tail, and then a stream of dark hair. Malin! I reach towards him but he disappears. My feet are only just touching the sand now. The tide’s dragging us out. The water around us thrashes again, and I taste salt. Aidan Helyer’s fingers dig deep into my arm but I’m not so scared of him now. I pull away, pulling him with me, deeper into the sea. The salt pours over my lips into my mouth and I breathe in the sweetness of it. Ingo. I am in Ingo and Ingo has come to save me. Push my head under the water if you want to, Aidan Helyer, you’ll only push me into my own world. I twist and struggle but I can’t get out of his grip and as long as he’s holding me I can’t cross into Ingo. He doesn’t care what happens to me. If I drown, he’ll make sure he’s far away.

  Someone else is there at his shoulder now. Bran. Bran Helyer. He’s told his father where to come. Now he wants to be in at the kill and the others will be coming after him.

  “I hope – you die – Bran Helyer,” I gasp as I struggle to free myself from his father. Malin’s gone. He’s escaped. I should be glad but I feel a terr
ible empty despair. He didn’t try to help me. He left without even saying goodbye.

  A cry comes out of the dark, so angry and anguished that even Aidan Helyer turns.

  “Bran!” It’s Jenna, farther out than us now, holding Digory, fighting the tide, struggling to get back to me.

  Bran freezes. He’s close enough that I see his face go blank with shock.

  “Don’t do it, Bran!”

  Aidan Helyer’s nails dig deeper into my arm. As I fight and struggle he catches me a blow across the face with the back of his other hand. There’s a burst of bright colour behind my eyes.

  “Bran!” Jenna’s scream cuts the air like a knife. I open my eyes, sick and dizzy, to see Bran backing away from his father. He glances behind him then plunges sideways, parallel to the beach, and as he does so he yells out to the dark figures in the shallows: “Help me! This way! I’ve caught the freak!”

  There’s an explosion by my feet. I’m knocked aside by a heave of water but Aidan Helyer doesn’t let go. I go down, he goes down with me and through surging sand and water I catch a glimpse of a shape I know. Strong arms and shoulders, hair down to his waist and swirling like seaweed round a rock. And a tail like a seal’s tail, full of power, jack-knifing through the wave. I pull back from Aidan Helyer and catch the look of raw shock on his face. Whatever he thought the freak would be like, this isn’t it. Malin turns sharply, banks, and comes straight at me. I see what’s in his hand. He must have kept that sharpened stone all the time we were carrying him. Malin stops dead in the water, as only the Mer can. His arm brushes mine. It’s not burning now. We are in Ingo and Malin is strong. He doesn’t look at me, only at Aidan Helyer.

  “Let go of her,” he says.

  Bubbles of air come out of Aidan’s mouth. His short hair bristles as if he’s been electrocuted. I know what he feels. His lungs are burning and he feels they are about to burst. He needs the air and he can’t have it because although he’s the one holding me, I am the one holding him down. Any moment now he’ll let go and burst up through the surface.