“You naughty boys, you sank my battleship,” Saint Dane said playfully, as if he really didn’t care.
Spader looked to me and to Uncle Press. I think he was in shock. Nothing had prepared him for seeing Saint Dane transform the way he did. I wasn’t exactly comfortable with it either, but at least I had seen it before so I didn’t go into total mind lock.
“The poison fertilizer?” asked Uncle Press. “Was it your doing?”
Saint Dane let out an evil laugh. Here we go again. I hate it when the bad guys laugh. It always means they know more than you do.
“You give me too much credit, Press, my friend,” Saint Dane said. “You know I don’t initiate anything.”
“But you don’t mind helping it along,” Uncle Press added.
“Of that, I am guilty. That weasel Manoo and his agronomers would have abandoned their experiments years ago if I hadn’t convinced them otherwise. It was so easy to feed their egos. I told them they would be heroes for saving Cloral from starvation for generations to come!” He laughed ironically. “They were too blinded by visions of glory to realize they were brewing up the means to kill every living soul on the territory. Surprise!”
“So you did kill my father,” Spader spat at Saint Dane.
“Indirectly, I suppose,” Saint Dane said, beginning to sound bored. “But we’re all much better off with one less Traveler, don’t you think?”
This pushed Spader over the edge. He lunged at Saint Dane, ready to grab his throat. But Saint Dane pulled a quick draw from under his coat and jammed a silver pistol into Spader’s chest, stopping him cold. Spader’s eyes were wild with hatred, but there was nothing he could do.
“Talk to Pendragon,” Saint Dane said calmly. “He knows you can’t defeat me.”
“No?” I jumped in. “What about Denduron?”
Saint Dane turned to look at me for the first time. His cold blue eyes gave me a chill.
“A minor inconvenience,” he said. “This game has only begun, Pendragon.”
“Game?” shouted Spader. “You killed hundreds of people. This isn’t a game!”
“But of course it is,” answered Saint Dane. And with that he began to transform again. His body grew liquid, he shrank slightly, and when the change was complete, standing before us was Zy Roder, the raider pilot.
“This is very much a game,” he said with a different, raspier voice. “And the stakes are high indeed!”
At that moment the door flew open from the hallway and several more raiders entered the apartment. They all held silver guns like the one Roder/Saint Dane had. Any thoughts we had about escaping had just gotten very dim.
“Now,” said Roder/Saint Dane. “I have a question for you. Tell me what you know about this place called ‘Faar.’”
We all did our best not to look at each other.
“Faar is a children’s story,” Spader finally answered. “What is it you want to know?”
Roder/Saint Dane jammed his silver gun into Spader’s chest, making him wince in pain.
“Please don’t waste my time trying to be coy,” Roder/Saint Dane said. “I saw the symbol of Faar on your father’s desk.”
“I knew that he’d been searching for Faar,” he continued. “But when I saw the symbol, I knew he’d been successful.”
“You were there?” I said, stunned. “On Magorran?”
“To be precise, Po Nassi was there,” he chuckled. “Only seconds before you three arrived.”
I got the feeling that Saint Dane loved fooling people with his little charades.
I really hated this guy.
He then looked directly into Spader’s eyes and said, “Your father discovered Faar and passed the information to you, didn’t he?”
Spader didn’t move. He wasn’t about to give Roder/Saint Dane the two pieces of map. No way. But Roder/Saint Dane flashed forward with his free hand and grabbed Spader around the neck. Both Uncle Press and I made a move to stop him, but the other raiders jumped between us, holding us back.
“Tell me,” Roder/Saint Dane seethed. His strength was incredible because he lifted Spader off the ground with only one hand. “Tell me what you know, or I’ll first kill Pendragon, then Press, and then I’ll go back to Grallion and see what mischief we can get into there. The only one I won’t kill is you. You’ll have to live knowing they died because you wouldn’t tell me what I will find out soon enough anyway.”
Spader was turning blue. Both Uncle Press and I struggled to get away from the raiders, but it was no use. There was nothing we could do to help Spader.
Then, slowly, Spader reached into his pocket for the map.
“Don’t!” I shouted. But it was too late. Spader pulled out the two map halves and tossed them on the ground. Instantly Roder/Saint Dane threw him down and Spader collapsed on the floor, gasping for breath. Another raider picked up the two pieces of paper and handed them to Roder/Saint Dane. The evil Traveler held the two pieces together and studied them for a few seconds.
He then let out a smile and said, “It’s so simple. Thank you, Spader. Now Cloral has absolutely no hope of fighting off the plague I’ve nurtured for so long.”
Huh? What did a mythical lost city have to do with the killer fertilizer that was spreading across the territory?
Boom! A gunshot sounded from out in the hallway that sent the raiders scrambling for cover. I can’t believe I acted as fast as I did, but in the one second of confusion, I lunged forward and grabbed the two pieces of the map from Roder/Saint Dane.
Boom! Boom! Two more gunshots. Though they weren’t exactly gunshots. Remember how I described the way the water cannons on the battleship fired compact missiles of water? As it turned out, that’s exactly what all the guns on Cloral fired. And right now, standing out in the hallway was Wu Yenza and two aquaneers. I wasn’t sure how they knew we were in trouble, but I didn’t care.
The water bullets they fired hit the walls and exploded, doing more damage than any bullet could.
“Drop your weapons!” shouted Yenza.
While Roder/Saint Dane and the other raiders ducked for cover, Uncle Press grabbed Spader and me and pulled us into the back room. The raiders were too busy defending themselves to come after us.
“Is there another way out?” Uncle Press shouted.
“There’s a ledge, all the way around the building,” gasped Spader, still trying to get his breath back from nearly being strangled.
“Show us!”
From the other room I heard the booming sounds of more water missiles hitting the walls. One shot blasted right through a wall and into the room we were in, missing me by a foot. These weren’t like any water pistols I’d ever played with!
Spader threw open a window and leaped out. Uncle Press pushed me toward the window to go next. I hesitated. I was never good with heights and we were on the fifth floor. Yikes. But there was no other choice. There were more raiders than aquaneers outside. As soon as the bad guys realized that, they’d be coming after us. So I put my fear aside and climbed out the window.
There was a two-foot-wide ledge that went all around the building. Normally two feet would be plenty wide enough to walk on. But when you’re five stories in the air, it feels more like two inches. I looked down and started getting dizzy.
“Go!” shouted Uncle Press. “He was already out behind me and pushing me to follow Spader.
Spader was moving quickly ahead of me, approaching the corner of the building. I took two steps and—
Boom! A piece of wall blasted out in front of me, spewing splintered bits of building everywhere. Suddenly I wasn’t worried about the height anymore and started to run. More blasts of water missile blew out chunks of building just behind Uncle Press. If we stopped, we’d get blasted off the ledge.
Spader reached the corner and made the turn. I was right behind him. We were now on the far side of the building from where the battle was taking place. Spader found a window and jumped inside. For a moment I thought we were going to drop in on some unsuspecting guy taking a nap or something, but luckily we found ourselves in a stairwell.
“Go down the stairs!” Spader ordered. But rather than lead us down, he headed back toward the corridor where the fight was going on. Uncle Press grabbed him.
“What are you doing?” he shouted.
“Going after Saint Dane!”
He tried to pull away from Uncle Press, but my uncle held him firm.
“Listen, Spader,” Uncle Press said. “You just had a taste of what we’ve been telling you about. Saint Dane has powers that you are no match for.”
“Not to mention the gunfight going on,” I added. “You go back there, you’re history.”
Spader was torn. His blood was boiling and he wanted a piece of Saint Dane—bad.
“We told you before,” Uncle Press continued with a calm voice, trying to talk Spader down. “There’s a bigger battle to be fought here. You heard what he said about Faar. It could be the last piece in the puzzle for destroying Cloral. Which do you think is more important? Going back in there and getting killed, or doing what your father wanted you to do?”
Spader looked up at my uncle with questioning eyes.
Uncle Press then said, “Let’s go find the Lost City of Faar.”
Boom! Like an exclamation point on his sentence, a water missile ripped through the door to the corridor. The raiders were coming after us. But Spader was with the program now. He knew what we had to do.
“C’mon!” he yelled, and bolted down the stairs. We all flew down, taking three stairs at a time. I thought I was going to take a tumble and break my neck, which would have been a really stupid thing to do at this point. But speed was everything now, so I kept going.
We blasted out a side door to the apartment building and went on a dead run for the canal and the skimmers. As we rounded the building, I saw that Yenza and the two aquaneers were backing out of the front door, still firing their water guns at the raiders. I really hoped there were no innocent bystanders in the way.
“Yenza!” yelled Uncle Press.
The chief aquaneer looked up and saw that we were out of the building. She immediately gave a command to the other aquaneers. They gave up on the fight and joined the sprint for the skimmers. As we ran across the grass toward the canal, small water bombs kicked up the dirt at our feet. I didn’t have to turn around to know the raiders were now out of the building and after us. I could only hope that we were far enough away that their guns wouldn’t be accurate enough to do any damage.
We all hit the canal at about the same time and jumped on the skimmers to make our escape. Nobody had to say a word. Uncle Press and I were on one, Spader and Yenza on another, the two aquaneers on a third.
The skimmers all whined to life. We were seconds away from blasting off. Then Spader turned around and actually gave me a smile.
“Last one back to the speeder buys the sniggers.” For a second, the old Spader had returned. He gunned the engine and took off. Uncle Press gunned ours, too, and the aquaneers were right behind. With the water around boiling from the incoming rain of water missiles, all three skimmers blasted off and away from the raiders.
The dash back to the dock was hairy, but not because of the raiders. As I wrote before, the canals were busy. But this time nobody cared. With Spader in the lead, we all flew over the water, dodging other skimmers like gates in a ski race. I wondered if there was a Panger City highway patrol that would pull us over for reckless skimming. Luckily, there weren’t any accidents, though we had a ton of close calls.
It wasn’t until we made it back to the canal near the docks that we could all finally take a breath. Or at least a half breath because this race was only just beginning. We tied up the skimmers and headed for the dock.
“How did you know to follow us?” Uncle Press asked Yenza as we ran.
“It was Nassi,” she answered. “I never trusted that woman. As soon as you left to follow Spader, she went after you.”
“You saved our lives, Yenza,” he said. “Thank you.”
Yenza then stopped on the side of the busy street and faced the three of us. The aquaneers stood behind her, ready for anything. Yenza was used to calling all the shots and I didn’t think she liked being out of the loop, especially when it meant having to battle raiders. “You were talking to Zy Roder like you knew him. What is going on?”
The three of us exchanged looks. How could we possibly explain any of this to her? It was Uncle Press who took a shot at it.
“Po Nassi was working with Zy Roder,” he explained.
Technically, Po Nassi was Zy Roder, but Uncle Press made the wise decision not to go down that road. Good thinking.
“She knew exactly what she was doing,” he continued.
“She knew the fertilizer was poison. Spader’s father was working with me to investigate this horror . . . until he died.”
“Po Nassi was deliberately trying to poison Cloral?” she asked in shock. “Why?”
“That’s tougher to answer, but it’s true. We’ve got to leave Panger City right away. Where is Manoo?”
“I’m right here!”
The little elf-man hurried to us from the building that led to the docks. He looked all sorts of angry and upset.
“Where have you been?” he demanded.
“Did you get to the Agronomy Society?” Yenza asked, ignoring his question.
“Yes,” Manoo answered nervously. “But it’s too late!”
“What do you mean?” Yenza demanded.
“The fertilizer,” whined Manoo. “It’s been sent all over Cloral. Almost every underwater farm is using it right now. Our entire food supply is going to be poisoned! It’s a total disaster!”
How’s that for a horrifying news item? Saint Dane’s plan had kicked into high gear and Manoo was out of his mind with worry.
Welcome to the party, Manoo and I’ve been out of my mind for a while now.
“Get back to the Agronomy Society,” Uncle Press ordered Manoo. “Make sure they track down and stop every shipment. Can you do that?”
“I suppose,” answered Manoo. “But who are you to tell me—”
“Just do it, Manoo!” barked Yenza.
She called to the two aquaneers, “Make sure this man gets back to the Agronomy Society safely.”
The aquaneers both offered a crisp salute and stood ready to go with Manoo. Yenza took Manoo by both arms in a warm gesture of trust and friendship.
“Do what you can, Manoo. Hobey-ho.”
Manoo stood up straight as if the entire fate of Cloral were now resting on his shoulders. He was now on a mission, and he took it seriously.
“Let’s go!” he shouted to the aquaneers, and the three took off.
Yenza then turned back to Uncle Press and said, “And why must we leave Panger City?”
Uncle Press looked to me and held out his hand. I knew exactly what he wanted and handed him the two pieces of map.
“Ever hear of the Lost City of Faar?”
In minutes we were back on the speeder boat, blasting away from Panger City, bound for, well, the plan was to head for the Lost City of Faar, but at the time it seemed like we were chasing a fairy tale.
When we put the two pieces of the map together, this is what we saw: The horizontal solid line that was a third of the way up from the bottom on the left half of the map continued on to the right half of the map all the way to the far side. The curved line that began at the lower left corner formed a complete semicircle with another curved line on the other half. It was now a wide, upside-down smile beneath the horizontal line. The spray of dots that was above the horizontal line on the left half of the map was also on the right half. Finally, the series of numbers from the left half continued on to the right.
We had no idea what the horizontal line or the semicircle beneath it or all the dots meant, but Spader and Yenza knew what the numbers meant. They were map coordinates that marked a very specific point in the ocean. We now had a location, but it was a long way off from Panger City. Their best guess was that it would take us all night to get there, even with the speeder boat throttled up to the maximum. Spader set the course and locked it into the speeder’s automatic pilot to make sure we wouldn’t stray. When traveling that long of a distance, even a minor error could have sent us way off course. Unless something bizarro happened, by morning we would be at the exact spot where the map said we would find the Lost City of Faar.
I was excited, but also pretty doubtful. The idea of finding a lost, sunken city seemed pretty far-fetched. But as Loor said, after all we’d seen, nothing was impossible.
I also hoped that Saint Dane had a lousy memory. He had only looked at the map for a few seconds before Yenza and the aquaneers came in with their waterguns blazing. Hopefully he’d forget a number in the coordinates, or switch two, or mess up something else that would send him in the wrong direction. That’s what I hoped for, but I didn’t think for a second that it would happen. I knew that Saint Dane now had the same information we did. The real question was how quickly he could catch up. It was going to be a race, but a race to what?
It was a beautiful night and the water was so calm that the stars were reflected in the water in front of us. I was standing on the bow looking out on this awesome sight, when I sensed that someone was behind me.
It was Spader.
“Tell me about where you come from,” he asked.
“That’s a lot of ground to cover,” I answered.
“It’s called Second Earth. Don’t ask me if there’s a First Earth or a Third Earth because I don’t know. I live in a town called Stony Brook. We have big cities and farms and small towns just like Cloral, the only difference is they don’t float on the water. I think something like four-fifths of the planet is covered with water; the rest is dry land.”
“So how do you get around if you can’t use skimmers and speeders?” he asked.
“Well, we have cars . . . vehicles that can go long distances on land, and big trains that travel on rails. And, oh yeah . . . we can fly.”
“What?” he asked in shock. “You can fly?”
I laughed. “Sort of. We have vehicles that fly. Some are small and hold only two people, others are big enough to carry four hundred.”
“Hobey, that’s magic!” Spader said in awe.
I guess to someone from another territory that didn’t have airplanes, the power of flight was pretty amazing. It was almost as amazing as being able to breathe underwater with plastic globes that molded to your head. Every territory was unique in its own way and believe it or not, I was beginning to like the idea that I was going to see more of them.
“And you have a family?” he asked me.
“Yeah. Mom, Dad, and a little sister named Shannon.”
We both fell silent for a while. We knew what we were both thinking. What had happened to our families?
“You know something, Pendragon?”
“What?”
“I believe Press,” he said with confidence. “We’re going to see them again. But not before some amazing adventures come our way.”
I had to smile. Maybe he was beginning to accept our fate.
For the rest of the night Spader and Yenza took turns at the controls and keeping watch. We all tried to get some sleep, but it wasn’t easy. We went below to the cabin, where there were some bunks. As excited as I was, I really needed some sleep, and konked out as soon as my head hit the pillow. I planned to sack out for only an hour or two, but as it turns out I slept through the entire night!
What finally woke me up was the sound of the engines slowing. I immediately sat up in the hammock, banged my head on a beam of course, swore to myself, then headed topside.
Uncle Press, Spader, and Yenza were already standing on deck. We must have made some pretty good time because the sun hadn’t come up yet. It was still pitch dark and the stars still shone off the water. It was very quiet, especially now that the engines were killed and we weren’t moving. I did a complete three-sixty and saw nothing but water.
“Are we here?” I asked.
“Right on the spot,” answered Spader.
“It’s strange,” Yenza said. “According to the charts we’re over a huge trench, one of the deepest on Cloral. But my instruments show it to be fairly shallow. I don’t understand.”
“Could we be in the wrong spot?” I asked.
Spader answered the question. “Not a chance.”
I walked up to the bow of the speeder and looked out onto the water. It was so calm that it was tricky to find where the horizon stopped and the water began. Especially since the stars reflected off the water.
The stars. The stars reflected off the water. That’s when it hit me.
I ran to the others and shouted, “Give me the map!”
Spader had it. He had glued it together using some kind of, well, glue. I held it up toward the horizon. Then I slowly turned, still holding the map out in front of me until everything lined up and—
“What’s it?” asked Uncle Press.
“Look,” I said, pointing to the map. “The horizontal line represents the horizon. And all these dots above it are—”
“Stars!” shouted Spader. “Hobey-ho, look!”
It was incredible. The dots on the map lined up perfectly with the constellations in the night sky. There was no mistaking it. We were in the right spot.
“Good thing we got here at night,” Uncle Press added.
“So then what’s this big half circle below the line?” I asked.
I think it hit all four of us at the same time because we all looked at one another cautiously. We knew exactly what that semicircle was supposed to be. If the straight line was the horizon, then anything below it was water. And there was only one thing that was supposed to be below the water in these parts.
“Could it be?” Spader asked in awe.
“I’ve heard about Faar since I was a girl,” said Yenza with reverence. “It’s supposed to be the most wonderful place that ever was. It’s where Cloral was born. To think that it could be real . . .” She couldn’t finish the sentence. The idea was too incredible to her.
“One way or another, we’re going to find out,” said Uncle Press.
I could tell from his tone of voice that he wanted to treat this as any other expedition. He probably wanted Spader and Yenza to get rid of any childhood fantasies and fears that might get in the way of our solving this mystery.
“Let’s all eat something,” he said. “Then get ready to dive. As soon as it’s light enough to see, we’ll have a look at what’s down there.”
There was a stock of dried fruits and vegetables on board. The thought crossed my mind that these might be poisoned like the rest of the food on Cloral. But since they were dried, they had probably been here for a long time and were safe. So we all sat on deck and ate breakfast. To be honest, it was disgusting. That stuff tasted like shoes. Not that I’ve ever eaten shoes before, but if I had, I’m sure they would taste like this. But we had to eat something so I pretended like they were Pop-Tarts. Shoe-flavor Pop-Tarts.
Gradually, the sky grew brighter and then the sun began to peek up on the horizon. Soon we were bathed in its warmth and light.
It was time to start our mission. Since this was an aquaneer speeder boat, it was well equipped. There were air globes and spearguns and water sleds. It was decided that Yenza would stay on board while the three of us went sunken city hunting. So Uncle Press, Spader, and I got geared up. We each popped on an air globe and strapped on spearguns.
I didn’t have my watch, but I was pretty sure we were past the twenty minutes that you’re supposed to wait to go swimming after you eat. I had to laugh to myself. Here I was about to search for a mythological underwater lost city on the other side of the universe, and all I could think about was some old wives’ tale my mother told me about getting cramps at a picnic. It was times like this that I really missed her.
“If we see something, we’ll surface and let you know,” Uncle Press said to Yenza. “But understand one thing. Zy Roder has the same information we do and I guarantee he’ll be headed this way. Whatever you do, do not take him on yourself, understand?”
“You’re talking to a chief aquaneer, Press,” said Yenza with a little bit of an attitude. “I can handle things.”
Uncle Press smiled in apology. “Sorry, my bad. Just be careful. Please.”
“I’ll say the same to you,” she said with a little smile.
I was beginning to think that Yenza was developing a “thing” for Uncle Press. Bad idea for her. He wasn’t the kind of guy you’d want to start a relationship with. He was on the road a little too much.
“Spader, take the lead,” Uncle Press said. “We’ll follow on either side of you.” He then smiled and said, “Look for a really big city.”
“Hobey-ho,” said Spader with a laugh.
“Hobey-ho,” I echoed.
We all grabbed our water sleds, gave a quick wave to Yenza, and did a giant stride into the water. A few seconds later we were all settled and floating next to each other on the surface.
“Everybody set?” asked Spader.
We were. He dove underwater and Uncle Press and I followed right behind him. We descended in V formation for several feet, then took a look around. Yenza was right. The water wasn’t all that deep here. I’m guessing it was maybe sixty feet to the bottom. That isn’t very deep at all and certainly no place to hide an entire city. The bottom was fairly barren. For as far as I could see there was nothing but blue-green water and a huge field of low, brown coral. No city. No nothing.
“Let’s head this way,” said Spader. “It’s the way Pendragon lined the map up with the stars.”
As we sped along with our water sleds, I saw that this area of the ocean was much less interesting than the ocean bottom around Grallion. There were no plants or kelp fields. There were no farms. There didn’t even seem to be any fish. This was the Cloral equivalent of our moon. We traveled for a long way with nothing to see but more nothing. I hated to be the killjoy and say that we should give up, but I was beginning to think we were wasting our time.
I was just about to say something when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. Quick movement. I looked to my right, but nothing was there. I figured it must have been an eyelash or something . . . until I saw it again. Something moved out there. I saw it a little better this time and thought it was a fish. It made me think back to the big fish that was shadowing Spader and me when we were making our escape from the raiders under Grallion. It was the same kind of thing.
Then I saw it again, and again.
“Did you see that?” I asked.
Spader slowed to a stop and we pulled up.
“What was that?” he asked.
“I saw it too,” said Uncle Press.
Phew. I wasn’t crazy and hallucinating. But that meant there were strange fish out there who were smart enough to be shadowing us. They were fast, too. And big. Not Moby Dick big, but at least as big as a man.
“There!” shouted Uncle Press.
We all looked to see a green shape moving off to our right. It was far enough away that we couldn’t make out exactly what it was, but it was moving a little more slowly than the others so we could at least confirm that it was real.
“I say we follow, mates,” said Spader.
“Hobey-ho,” answered Uncle Press.
Oh, swell. I really hoped this wasn’t a bad idea. We all gunned the water sleds and took off in the direction of this strange green fish. We were at full throttle, but the fish far enough ahead of us that we really couldn’t get a good look at it. I felt like it was teasing us and luring us forward. But that was impossible. Fish don’t lure people—people lure fish.
“Are you seeing this?” Spader asked.
We all looked ahead to see that the bottom was beginning to fall away. It was getting deeper.
“Stay near the bottom,” said Uncle Press. “Don’t lose that thing.”
I felt the water pressure build around me. At home it wasn’t smart to dive any deeper than, say, sixty feet. Going deeper caused all sorts of problems with water pressure and decompression sickness and a nasty thing called “the bends” that you got if you stayed down too deep for too long. But that wasn’t a problem on Cloral. I guessed it had something to do with the rebreathing devices in the air globes that kept the right mix of gases in your system. But still, this was deeper than I had ever gone before. It was getting dark, and the bottom kept falling away. We were chasing a big, smart fish into the dark unknown and I was getting scared.
“There’s a ridge up ahead,” announced Spader.
About thirty yards ahead of us it looked like there was going to be a drop-off. Yenza had said this was the deepest trench on all of Cloral, and I had the feeling we were about to see it. But I was sure this was the end of the line for us. There was no way we were going to go any deeper. We didn’t have lights, the water was getting cold, and who knew what was down there?
I also saw that the fish thing we were chasing reached the edge and shot down over the side. I had no plans to follow it.
“Take us to the edge,” said Uncle Press. “We’ll stop there.”
Phew. It was official. The edge was as far as we were going. Uncle Press and I pulled up even with Spader so that the three of us were now traveling shoulder to shoulder. Whatever we were going to see over the edge, we would see it together. A few seconds later we reached the end and looked down into the abyss.
Mark, Courtney, yeah, I’ll say it again. What we saw was impossible. It was a vision like I had never encountered in my life and I can’t imagine I ever will again. There are unique things in every territory. Some are evil, some are beautiful, and some are just plain spectacular. What we saw fell into the spectacular category. The three of us could only hang in the water and stare in wonder.
“Hobey,” said Spader dumbly. “This is a dream, right?”
“If it is,” said Uncle Press with the same dumb feeling, “we’re all having it.”
The bottom fell off into black. We were on the edge of a trench that rivaled the Grand Canyon. As clear as the water was, we couldn’t see the bottom or the far side of this trench—its expanse was breathtaking. But what we saw before us made the immense size of the trench seem inconsequential. For what we were seeing was a magical water ballet.
The water below the edge was full of hundreds of the same green fish like the one we were just following. But now that we were closer, we saw that they weren’t fish at all. They were people. At least I thought they were people. They were certainly people-shaped, but they were covered in a green skin that made them look like they were also part fish. Though they had arms and legs, these looked as much like webbed fins as they did regular old human appendages. Their faces were also covered by the same green skin. I know that sounds gross, but it wasn’t.
It was an incredibly graceful sight. They were all twisting and swimming and diving and generally looking as if they were having a great time. It was like watching an amazing aquarium with scores of twirling fish dancing in the water.
Several lights shone up on them from somewhere below. These beams swept back and forth as the fish-people swam in and out of their light. I was totally mesmerized. I felt as if I could watch them forever. It was just plain beautiful.
But then three of these fish-people left the larger group and swam over toward us.
“Uh-oh,” I said. “Time to get scared.”
“Don’t move,” commanded Uncle Press.
I didn’t, but instantly switched from rapture into near-panic mode. What did these fishies want with us?
Each of the fish-people swam gently up to one of us and motioned for us to follow. Whoa, these things really could think. Maybe they were more “people” than “fish” after all.
“What do we do?” I asked nervously.
“I say we follow,” said Uncle Press, already swimming forward.
Gulp. I didn’t have time to argue. Spader and I followed. I had no idea what these creatures wanted. Did they expect us to join in their dance? Would it be some kind of insult if we didn’t?
I then saw that we weren’t joining the main group. These guides were actually leading us deeper into the trench. I had a moment of panic, but Uncle Press said in a calm voice, “It’s okay. Just go slow.”
Then, below us, something caught my eye. It was the wall of the trench. I first heard a small rumble, and then I saw a crack of light beginning to appear out of the rock face.
“What is that?” asked Spader, his voice cracking with tension. Good. I wasn’t the only one who was chicken.
The crack of light grew larger and larger and we soon saw that it was actually some kind of rock door that was opening up. Then, as if on cue, all of the dancing fish-people gathered together like, well, like a school of fish, and all swam together into the light! They dove as a group, sped down, and disappeared into the rock wall.
Our three guides were still with us. They motioned for us to follow, and then they, too, dove down toward the light.
The three of us stayed where we were. Even Uncle Press seemed a little reluctant.
“What do you think?” I asked.
Uncle Press looked down at the three guides who had stopped again and were gently motioning for us to follow. He then looked up to us and said, “I think the Lost City of Faar . . . isn’t lost anymore.”