“Why are you hiding from me?” she called up into the boughs of the trees, taking small, quiet steps towards his last landing spot. “Come out and face me, or are you afraid?”
As she worked her way into the forest and it became brighter, fireflies filled the air. Jacques d’Or swooped down from his perch and stood in front of her, beaming. He pulled a mirror from his waistcoat and rearranged his feathers, smoothing out some ruffled tufts on his crown.
“Jacques d’Or,” she said. “Pleased to finally meet you.”
“I wish I shared your sentiment but you really are a thorn in my side at the moment,” he said spitefully.
“Nice mirror,” she remarked.
“Isn’t it just?” he said, snapping it shut and twitching with rage.
There was a flapping as he rose up storming into the trees. They rustled and bent under the weight of such a large bird.
“Now all that’s left is to decide what to do with you… It seems you’re more trouble than your tears are worth. So, I could push you into the pits of the doldrums and let a gas explosion blast you to smithereens. Or what about taking you out to the Black of Beyond and leaving you lost in the dark? No, that won’t do; you might somehow find your way back. I know! I’ll just throw you in the Deep at the end of the Black Forest instead. I am pretty sure no one would miss you!”
“The Deep?” Cecilia was puzzled. She remembered Jasper saying something about the Deep when she was inspecting a jar of his.
“The Deep… The black hole of no return?” Jacques d’Or sounded irritated. “No one who enters the Deep comes back because it goes nowhere!”
Cecilia steadied herself. The Deep sounded scary but what if no one ever wanted to come back because whatever was on the other side of it was far better than here… It wouldn’t be impossible, she thought. Cecilia couldn’t really imagine nothingness. An infinite deepness, yes, or a portal to elsewhere seemed more reasonable. She remembered from watching TV that black holes usually took you somewhere, and what she’d learnt from being in the tunnels so far was that every tunnel led on to another one, so the Deep must go somewhere too, and besides, surely Jasper wouldn’t have a jar of it in his cubby if it was seriously harmful?
“Let’s spice things up a bit, shall we?” Jacques d’Or blew on a small gold whistle hanging on a chain from his waistcoat pocket.
“It would be a bit of a bore to just push you into the Deep. Let’s chase you there first!”
A large dog-face approached and stood under the tree that Jacques d’Or was weighing down. The dog-face had the sad drooping guise of a boxer dog but he also looked mean. Very mean.
“Perfect!” said Jacques d’Or. “Cecilia, meet Hunter. Hunter, meet Cecilia. Now that you’ve met we’d better crack on. Hunter, you are to chase Cecilia into the Deep. Got it?”
Hunter turned slowly and looked up into the trees and then back at Cecilia. He seemed tired and weary but agreed with a nod of his head.
Jacques d’Or hopped down to the ground.
“Now, Cecilia, I’m not an unreasonable chap so I’ll give you a head start.”
“But I—” She made to speak but Jacques d’Or interrupted her.
“I’m afraid the time for discussion is over. Twenty seconds on the clock! Hunter, on all fours now,” Jacques d’Or commanded. Hunter let out a deep, low grunt and stood staring at Jacques d’Or. “Disobedience won’t be tolerated now, will it, hmm?” Jacques d’Or toyed with the small gold whistle dangling from the chain on his waistcoat. “Hmm?” he goaded. “On all fours, now, there’s the sport, it’s much more fun this way.”
Hunter settled into a moment of utter humiliation as he got on his furry hands and knees.
“Fabulous. Ready, Cecilia? On your marks… Get set…”
Cecilia had hardly a moment to think and had no idea where to go.
“GO! Run, run for your life!” Jacques d’Or shouted, a cackling laugh clinging onto the end of his words before he began counting.
“One…” Cecilia ran through the darkest patches of the trees, running as fast as she could into the cloak of their shadowy boughs.
“Two…” She stopped and looked up, wondering if she should climb one and try to hide in the branches, but she knew eventually Hunter would sniff her out or Jacques d’Or would swoop in and spot her from above.
“Three… Four… Five…”
She knew she had to keep moving so she kept running, not knowing where she was going or if she would find a place of safety. Then she had an idea.
“Six… Seven…”
She leant up against the trees, her mind racing. The Deep—she would look for the black hole. It would be better to choose to jump in instead…
“Eight… Oh, this is getting exciting!” Jacques d’Or’s voice was getting audibly quieter as she moved further away from him but still she could hear the shrill of excitement in it.
“Nine… Ten… Eleven…”
Sweat had formed on her brow. And she ran, scratching her arms and legs on the branches, dodging in all directions to try to buy some extra time. If she could give Hunter a jagged trail, it might take him longer to find her.
“Twelve… Thirteen… Fourteen… Fifteen…”
And then she spotted it, not far off. Stunning and magical, the Deep that Jacques d’Or had condemned her to was exactly like the substance Jasper had in the jar at his cubby. A small blossoming tree hung over it, a pool of silvery liquid gel. The Deep looked like a rip in the ground, morphing and undulating like liquid metal. She could’ve cried but she refused to, knowing that was what Jacques d’Or wanted. His voice grew fainter as she sped further and further away from it. But she knew soon it would be upon her once again if she didn’t keep going. Cecilia could still hear him faintly talking to himself about how wonderful he was and all the changes he had made to the tunnels to improve them and how she’d almost ruined everything. Cecilia ran towards the pool of liquid. She ran for her life. She strained her ears to listen; she could really use Jasper’s ear horn now.
“Sixteen… Seventeen… Eighteen…”
Panting, she pushed on, running faster than she had ever run. She shot out of the silhouetted trees with all her might and with nothing but her will and her legs to carry her.
“Nineteen… Twenty… Ready or not, here we c-o-m-e!” cried the faroff voice of Jacques d’Or. It was bordering on the edge of a joyful squeal.
“Release the HUNTER!” echoed through the menacing treetops.
Although Cecilia wasn’t there to witness it, Hunter looked at Jacques d’Or with a disappointed grimace and shook his head. A flush of embarrassment passed over his brow. He sighed and began to move off, shuffling along on the ground. Jacques d’Or snapped a branch off a nearby tree and tossed it in the air, shouting “Fetch” in a patronising voice. “There’s a good boy, now off you trot. She’s getting away!”
Cecilia paused by the edge of the trees at an opening where the Deep was located. She crept over to the single blossoming tree and a flurry of soft pink and white petals floated by her as she peered into the small pool over which it hung. The tree was a winter-blossoming cherry tree. She knew because it was her mum’s favourite and there was one at the end of their road back home. When in bloom its petals would float into the air like snow. She focused her eyes on the pool. Mum, she thought. “Home,” she whispered to herself as she saw her own face reflected in the liquid.
Is this the Deep? she wondered. Surely not, it’s no bigger than my living room and it doesn’t seem all that scary. She’d expected something more like the Grand Canyon but there it was: a small, calm, reflective pool. Granted, she couldn’t see beyond the surface but it had a tranquillity about it. Cecilia stood a few feet from the edge and watched as it morphed before her, lighting up the blossom on the tree with its mirrored surface and absorbing the blossom that fell onto it.
She was close to getting into the Deep when fear tapped her on the shoulder, an uninvited foe, and just to top things off it had brought its b
est mate—doubt. She stood motionless. She tried to bat the bad thoughts away but they pushed in. What if there’s something in there? Or worse still, what if there’s nothing, nothing at all? But she had to do it; there was no where else to go. Cecilia could hear Jacques d’Or’s voice dancing closer. He was unhinged! What was he going to do to Kuffi, Luke and Lady-Bird? She knew that this was her only chance to get away. She imagined her friends trapped and crying for eternity; she owed it to them and to herself. Jacques d’Or was chattering away as he grew nearer, so at least she knew where he was, but it also meant Hunter wouldn’t be far either. Cecilia decided in that moment that there was no time for fear and certainly no room for doubt. She sucked up a long breath and backed away from the edge a little so she could get a run-up and with arms outstretched she launched at the pool in front of her and disappeared into the Deep.
23
The Deep
The first thing Cecilia noticed was that she was cold. There were no two ways about it: she was freezing. She appeared to be moving through a glossy expanse of silvery liquid, an oily slick to nowhere, as far as she could tell. Although she could feel her body moving through the substance, Cecilia found it hard to actually move the parts of her body; she was stuck in the position she had made on entry. She kept her breath held and though things were blurry, she could make out flecks of silver and blue, like glitter rushing past her. Cecilia wondered if Hunter had managed to sniff her out, and if he had, if he’d be forced to follow her? Hopefully, if they did trace her to the Deep, Jacques d’Or would give up and leave her to her fate. She strained her neck to look behind her and as she did, she almost let out a scream: a giant version of Jacques d’Or was saying something, but it was muffled, like when she was underwater in the bath and her mum came in, and she could almost hear her but it was all smudged. Had Cecilia moved at all? He looked so close. She decided to try to swim. As she did she felt a resistance to push against, a bit like moving through jelly, but it wasn’t sticky. She knew she didn’t have long until she would need to breathe, so she tried to keep swimming—if you could call it swimming.
She heard a clicking sound echoing about her and wondered what it was. It was a creaking pattern that made the gelatinous substance wobble. Her lungs were starting to pull on her chest for air. What would happen if she did just try to breathe in? Cecilia began to feel weak and light headed when there came a forceful tug on her leg, and she was yanked deep, deep down as it all went black.
When Cecilia came to she was lying on a bed of dry moss, looking up at a ceiling bedecked with what looked like tiny stars. She wasn’t cold any more and although she could feel the atmosphere was damp, she felt herself to be quite dry at least. She could see her rucksack hung up over the wall and she sat upright, climbed off the mossy bed and went over to check her belongings were still there. She held the marble in her hand for a moment, feeling relief, then put it back. This didn’t look like the work of Jacques d’Or: he wouldn’t hang her rucksack up for her and she didn’t appear to be imprisoned. As she searched the room, Cecilia discovered that she was standing in a small, glittering cave. A serene sound came to her, like a whale or a dolphin call. She didn’t know the language of the sounds that it spoke, but somehow she understood its meaning and recognised it as the sound that had come to her through the Deep.
“The substance on the walls—it’s a type of bioluminescence… living light.” The words of the soft, smooth voice were being transmitted directly into her head.
“Oh,” said Cecilia out loud. She wasn’t feeling very well. Whoever it was standing in the doorway was just outside of view.
“My name is Doltha and I belong to a small community of Divers who live here. I have some broth for you, it should help with the decompression sickness you might be feeling. Here you are.” From the shadows she held the bowl out. “It should warm you up too. I thought you might be hungry.”
Doltha stepped forward to reveal a dorsal fin, flippers, a tail, and arms and legs, all covered in a smooth pinkish complexion. Her eyes were quite human, but almost entirely black. Cecilia had to save herself from gasping. She was quite beautiful.
Doltha placed the small black wooden bowl in Cecilia’s hands. “Try some,” she said encouragingly.
Cecilia brought the bowl up to her lips and instantly felt at ease. She sipped it slowly. It was delicious: it tasted like a concoction of mushrooms and raw peas and clams; it was warm and soothing like Doltha’s voice. Her eyes were kind, and as Cecilia looked into them, they seemed to invite her trust.
“You’ve been through quite a lot. It’s been a long time since anyone has entered the Deep, and usually they’ve been pushed or thrown in to be disposed of, but it’s been a very long time since someone actually had the courage to choose to face it themselves. You did well.”
“I didn’t know what else to do.” Cecilia sat down on the moss-covered bed, looking sadly into her bowl.
“You trusted yourself and your instincts. You did the right thing and stayed true to yourself, even if it was hard. The Deep is only as boundless as you let it be,” said Doltha.
“Doltha, if I may… where am I?” asked Cecilia.
“Ah ha,” she said. “Think of the Deep as a window. You’ve done the hardest part; you are now on the other side of that window.”
“Oh.” Cecilia left a long pause. “Doltha, it’s all gone terribly wrong. You don’t want me here, I’m nothing but trouble.” Cecilia held back from crying; she wasn’t sure what Doltha would make of it.
“I had to leave my friends,” Cecilia continued. “But what will come of them? I have to get back to the Black Forest and get them out of the Nest. I have to help them, Doltha, please? I can’t stay here and do nothing!” Cecilia stood up.
“Drink some more broth, it will make you feel better,” said Doltha.
Cecilia sat back down and drank the rest of the broth.
“I sense that you don’t believe what’s happening to you.”
“Sometimes I have moments when I know where I am and what’s going on, but then everything changes again. It’s a lot to take in. I just want to go home.”
“Until you accept your situation and the nature of the environment that you find yourself to be existing in…”
“Oh, sorry, my name is Cecilia…”
“…Cecilia,” Doltha continued, “then you can not expect to change it. I think you need to accept the circumstances you have found yourself in so that you can move forwards. We can help you do that and help find your friends but first we will need to discuss what action to take.”
Doltha looked at Cecilia knowingly and picked up the empty bowl. “I’ll be back to get you shortly. There is a deepsuit hanging up on the wall for you. It will keep you warm and dry. I’ll leave you a little while to get changed and inform Gaia that you are awake.” With that, Doltha left.
Cecilia did as she was told and got changed into the deepsuit. It was fitted her well. It was chocolate brown and covered in a soft fuzz. She folded up her dress and went to her bag to try to stuff it in alongside her own clothes and Luke’s hoody. Cecilia reached into her coat pocket and retrieved the marble once more; this time she took it out and held it in her palm. Cecilia examined the marble closely. She wondered where it came from and what its real purpose might be. After all, something had changed when they’d held it up to Polaris. Did it belong here? Or was it just a stupid piece of glass? She felt frustrated and ashamed. She thought about it and remembered that actually it was the thing that had got her into all this trouble in the first place. She felt weighed down by it and a small flame of anger flared up inside her. “It doesn’t mean anything. It’s pointless and heavy. It’s just a bit of old tat!” She groaned with frustrated anguish. “This is a piece of rubbish,” she growled, realising that nothing could ever replace what she had lost. She became rigid and tense and bursting into a fit of absolute rage, she lobbed the marble at the wall in front of her with all her might and all her fury.
In the instant that
she hurled it, she came back to her senses with a tinge of regret. She waited to hear the shattering sound as the glassy orb broke into thousands of pieces—her eyes clenched shut, shoulders hunched. But no sound came. She dropped her shoulders and opened one eye, then the other and saw that the marble sphere had landed up on a ledge where it rolled around in circles, catching the light of the lamp next to it. A kaleidoscope of colours burst from it and the bioluminescent particles on the walls bounced it back all around her in thin shafts of light—like tiny lasers. The marble began to circle round faster and wider. Cecilia’s stood in awe as the orb spun off the ledge and into the air, spinning rapidly on an invisible axis.
She was astonished. It looked like a tiny star glowing from within and projecting its light and warmth. Cecilia shaded her eyes, squinting at the marble as it burned brighter and brighter. She let out a huge sigh that turned to white puffs like clouds passing around the sphere. It was like a miniature weather system in the room. The mood changed as the sphere began to move around the room erratically, the clouds casting shadows with small bursts of rain erupting. Cecilia held her hands out to catch the raindrops and laughed. The laughter caused bright pulses of warmth to surge from the orb. Cecilia approached the marble sphere and blew softly on the clouds and they moved, her breath turning to a light breeze that picked up and murmured around the room. It was incredible. She made to touch the marble sphere—but it was hot, almost too hot to touch.
Her fascination was interrupted by the sound of Doltha’s voice. “Ah, excuse me, Cecilia, but there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
Doltha smiled, looking at the marble sphere.
“Cecilia, meet Gaia.” Eight tentacles and a bulbous head rested above a body of hands and legs, feet and arms. An octopus-face stood proudly before Cecilia, tendrils outstretched in the same way Hester might draw a picture of the sun. She was a deepish red colour. Cecilia was overwhelmed.
The Tunnels Below Page 13