The Land's Whisper by Monica Lee Kennedy

resounded in
Darse’s head. Bring the boy , it had demanded. Darse
shuddered and bounded down the steps.

CHAPTER 3
    Be still—the worlds hold their breath in wait.
    -Genesifin
    Brenol had crept down the same steps several
hours previously. The pool was even more brilliant than it had been
when he had seen it with Darse. It shimmered and sparkled as if in
expectant greeting. He shook with excitement and tried to push
aside any thoughts of Darse.
    I’m going. I have to go. Darse
can’t leave me , he thought, though anxiety still churned his
insides.
    He stepped down.
    “ Come, come ,” a
voice resounded in his eardrums.
    It startled him, and his mind swam with
visions of wolves lurking in the shadows. He peered into the cavern
and shook his head.
    “There’s nothing here,” he said to the air,
yet even his words betrayed a prickling doubt. The voice had felt
as real as the gravel under his feet and the guilt clawing his
back. He gulped and squinted down the length of the cavern. It
seemed to extend forever. Brenol shuffled forward slowly.
    The water seeped immediately into his
hole-ridden shoes. They felt like bags of sand, but at least the
water was not icy. He stepped back, slid them off, and discarded
them at the steps along with his coat. He moved as quickly as he
could, longing for his conscience to quiet. If he stopped to
listen, all resolve might crumble, and he would be left alone on
Alatrice. It was a fate too terrible to consider.
    With determination, he abandoned his fear of
the phantom voice and threw himself into the lucent water.
    There was no need to adjust to the
temperature. The water was warm—but not uncomfortably so—and
aromatic. The waterway was about as narrow as a wagon trail,
allowing enough room to maneuver, and along the right side ran a
bank of stone, wide enough to clamber up upon if necessary. The
water was deep enough that he could not stand, but Brenol was an
adept swimmer and kicked ahead in interest.
    He now saw that the lights were not upon the
surface at all, but hovered like illuminated bubbles underwater. He
tried to catch one, and as the light escaped his grasp, he was left
with the image of a cat toying with a string just out of reach.
    Once he had progressed about twenty strokes,
Brenol discovered the presence of a mild current. He lifted his
legs in curiosity and allowed the water to tug him with gentle
motions, smiling at the effect. As he righted his body to continue
the swim, he spied a multitude of fish. They swam about, dodging
between his legs and sliding their sleek bodies through the
rippling clear.
    The dance of the schools was mesmerizing.
There were stops, turns, dips, and flips, all worked into a
synchronized body of movement. It was beautiful, especially as
their fins and scales caught the lights. The promenade led on and
on, and the current conveyed Brenol and the fish in the same
direction.
    The lights brightened—appearing now more
like lanterns or posts guiding the underwater way. Brenol caught
glimpses of writings and images upon the walls above, yet when he
paused to examine them, the pictures disappeared as chalk does when
meeting rain. He swam for another hour, becoming more and more
intrigued, for now, in place of drawings, were doors with sturdy
iron hinges upon them. These too vanished when he swam closer in
curiosity.
    See. I deserve to be here. I’d be missing
out on all this. Darse was trying to keep me out.
    “ Come, come. I am waiting for
you. ”
    Astonished by the voice, Brenol gasped and
flailed around, looking for the source and finding that he was
alone. Warily, he faced forward again, with the uncanny sensation
that he was being watched.
    There were several turns in the cave, and
with each shift, light throughout the canal brightened and the
current slowed. He seemed to be moving towards the light, and he
looked forward to getting out of the cavern and into open sunlight.
As he rounded the final curve, however, his heart shrank within