He had no idea how fast they were going. Guessing speed was impossible when there were no landmarks or reference points. Brendan had seen the surface of Lake Ontario many times while driving with his parents along the expressway. The lake seemed more like an ocean sometimes with huge slate-grey waves capped in white driving against the jetties. He looked in the direction he assumed was up and saw nothing but darkness outside the perimeter of the glow-weed’s reach. Strange. Something didn’t seem right. He thought about it for a moment before he realized what was bothering him.
“Where are all the fish?”
Oona looked back at him with a puzzled expression. “There are no fish. They are all gone.”
Brendan couldn’t believe it. “There have to be some fish.”
“Oh, there are some eels.” Oona stopped, hanging in the dark water, her face sad and serious. “There are some that scrape the muck for food in the deepest part of the lake. But no true fish remain, nor otters nor beavers nor any creature that swims. The lake is dead. Even we do not live here. We come to see if any life has taken hold. We patrol the waters to make sure nothing goes amiss. We try to punish the worst polluters by fouling their machinery and sabotaging their factories.”
“How is that possible?” Brendan asked, but even as he spoke the words, he knew. Pollution and overfishing, oil spills and chemicals dumped in the lake had sterilized the waters. How many times had he seen news reports saying that the waters were too full of disease to swim?
Oona’s eyes flashed with anger. “Drylanders have destroyed the lake, annihilated every living thing, and snuffed out the very soul of the waters.” Brendan could feel her anger burning in her voice. “Drylanders! We must obey the Truce but it is bitter for us.”
“What is this Truce? People keep mentioning it but no one explains it.” Brendan called out to her.
“An agreement, forced on our kind by the Drylanders long ago,” Oona answered.
With a flick of her powerful hands and feet, Oona increased her speed through the cold murk. Their conversation was at an end. Brendan kept his mouth closed, partly because the water they ploughed through made his lips flap if he opened his mouth and partly because bits of weed and dirt would get into it. The sensation was odd, as though he were flying through the water. He held on to Oona as tightly as he could. He didn’t want to be left behind in the dark watery wasteland of the lake. He thought about what Oona had said: the whole lake dead. What had the lake been like before people had come and poisoned it? He couldn’t even imagine it. The lake had always been a thing of beauty to him. Now he realized he was only seeing the surface. Beneath the waves, Humans had made a desert.
Time passed with the rush of water in his ears. At last, he marvelled as the floor of the lake came up to meet them. His heart fell again as he saw the rubbish strewn on the lake floor. Tires, shopping carts, rubbish bins, plastic bags, cans, bottles, and a million other discarded objects were half-buried in the sterile muck. They skimmed along a few metres above the lakebed and a metre or two below the surface. He could make out the lights of the shoreline and the wake of a boat, one of the ferries heading out to Centre Island. 68 Daytrippers travelled out to the amusement park there and to ride bicycles on the island paths on the weekends.
Oona took them in among the frothing waves churned up by the ferry’s wake, corkscrewing in the turbulent water. Her mood appeared to have lightened somewhat. Brendan got a glimpse of what she might be like when she was in a happier time. She flashed a smile at him, a glimmer of white teeth in the darkness at his side.
They swam to a stop as they approached a series of regular, dark columns furred with green algae fronds. Oona guided them along through the massive pillars of the ferry dock, coming into shore. The water was finally shallow enough for Brendan to stand upright. He queasily placed his feet among the garbage and stood up.
His head came up out of the water beside Oona’s. He took a deep breath and immediately started to cough.
Oona slapped his back. “You have to get used to breathing air again,” she said, laughing at his spluttering. “Give it a moment.”
Brendan coughed heartily for a few seconds, spitting and choking until he had control of himself. Water flowed freely from his mouth and nostrils as he emptied his lungs. The bow wave from the ferry washed over him, filling his mouth with dank, oily water. He choked anew.
He was in the middle of the second coughing fit when Miv’s head, hair slicked back with water, broke the surface. He raised Kim’s head above the water. She was stirring but still not fully awake. “Here you go,” Miv said. He pushed Kim into Brendan’s arms. “We have brought you to the Island of the Ward as you have asked us to do. The Swan is here. We can do no more.” Miv and Oona turned away.
“Wait!” Brendan grabbed Oona’s shoulder. “Where are you going? I need you.”
Oona smiled ruefully and shook her head. “No. We go this far and no farther.”
“Why?” Brendan shifted Kim so he could get a better grip on her. He was starting to feel cold. “Can’t you live on land?”
The Silkies laughed. “No, no! Nothing like that. We can survive on the land for a time,” Miv told him. His dark eyes turned to watch the ferry easing into the concrete pier. “We choose not to. We will leave you here. Goodbye, Breandan. Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll meet again.”
Miv disappeared under the waves with barely a splash to mark his passing. Oona gripped Brendan’s forearm and squeezed. “Remember what you’ve seen.” She raised a dripping arm and pointed ashore. “Follow the path. There are signs for eyes that can see. The Swan awaits you. Good luck.” She winked and disappeared after her brother.
Brendan was left standing in the cold stinking water. Kim floated in his arms.
Now what? What am I supposed to do?
As he watched, he noticed a smudge of cloud roiling over the lake. Lightning flashed within the disturbance. The cloud was moving out over the lake from the centre of town. He had lost Orcadia in his trip under the lake but only for a while.
She was coming.
He jumped when the voice shouted from above him.
“I see you down there!”
68 The Toronto Islands were originally a peninsula connected to the mainland by a long spit of land. In 1858 a storm blew a hole in the peninsula, in effect cutting the islands off from the mainland. Humans believe the storm was natural, but it was actually part of the Ward conjured by Ariel to create The Ward’s Island. But I’m getting ahead of myself… and I wouldn’t want to run into myself should the part of myself that’s ahead of myself suddenly decide to stop for some reason.
THE WARD’S ISLAND
“Are you deaf, kid? I’m talkin’ ta you!” the voice demanded angrily.
Brendan looked up and saw a man in a waterproof coat and hat staring down at him over the edge of the pier. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“U-uh,” Brendan stammered. “I was just… uh… swimming!”
“Ya can’t swim there! Are ya stupid or what? The water’s filthy! You could get cut to pieces by the props. Get outta there.”
“Okay,” Brendan mumbled. He hefted Kim under the arms and dragged her up onto the bank. The mud made the footing slippery and she was a dead weight. He fell a number of times before he managed to get them up onto the grass, where he collapsed beside her to catch his breath.
The man was still looking at him, taking in Kim with a critical eye. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Uh…” Brendan thought quickly. “She fell in and… she fainted from the cold. She’s fine. I’ll take care of her.”
“Just stay right there.” The man pointed at Brendan, indicating he was not to move. As he turned away, Brendan saw him take a radio from his belt. The man spoke quietly into it, and Brendan was sure he was calling the police. For a moment, Brendan toyed with the idea of just sitting, waiting for the police to come, but a look at the storm cloud boiling across the lake changed his mind. He knew that the police wouldn’t be any help against the likes of Orcadia. He had to find this place, the Swan. He had to get some answers.