The Stone of Kuromori. Jason Rohan
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white stripe to signal to other vessels that divers were down.
Dwayne jumped in and bobbed alongside, while Kiyomi showed Kenny how to clear his mask by blowing air into it. She adjusted the air in his buoyancy jacket until he barely floated, and then gave the thumbs-down sign to descend.
Taking Kenny’s hand, Kiyomi released some air from her own jacket and then lowered her head to swim downwards. Kenny copied her movements and the divers kicked gently through the clear water.
Kenny forced himself to relax. It took all of his effort not to sweep his arms and kick his legs as he would for normal swimming. Here, he was weightless, gliding beneath the tropical sea. The only sound was the hypnotic rhythm of his breathing. Shafts of sunlight lanced down from above, illuminating sparkling shoals of fish. A huge leatherback sea turtle laboured upwards, close enough for Kenny to see the barnacles growing on its shell, and a glittering curtain of glassfish exploded into mirror-like fragments as the divers approached, re-forming after they had passed.
As they descended further, Kenny felt an uncomfortable feeling building in his ears. Remembering his training, he pushed air into his pinched nose and waggled his jaw. His ears popped just as a shadow fell across his back. Twisting his head upwards, Kenny saw the unmistakable bullet shape of a large shark.
Dwayne continued to lead the way, glancing back from time to time to make sure that Kiyomi and Kenny were keeping up. He pointed and, in the distance, Kenny could see a dark, angular form rising up from the seabed. Even from here he could discern stone blocks and massive terraced steps, like the sides of a truncated Mayan pyramid.
As they drew closer, the features of the underwater ruin became more distinct. Kenny could make out a standing pillar, narrow channels, a road of sorts, platforms, stairs – and more sharks. Thousands of adult hammerhead sharks were circling lazily round the edifice like a slow-motion tornado, funnelling upwards. Everywhere Kenny looked, he saw stubby, twig-like shark silhouettes revolving as if on guard.
Dwayne released more air from his buoyancy jacket and cruised down to the seabed, gesturing for Kiyomi and Kenny to follow. He glided along the bottom, kicking up sand with each stroke of his flippers, and led the way beneath the sharks to the south side where a crude staircase appeared to have been cut into the rock.
He motioned for Kiyomi to take the lead and in reply she circled a finger to indicate a loop around the ruins. Still holding Kenny’s hand, Kiyomi led them in an anticlockwise circuit of the city. They passed a huge star-shaped slab which resembled a turtle, a small triangular pool, twin pillars that looked as if they had come from Stonehenge and a partly eroded stone face.
By now, Kenny had forgotten everything except the scene around him. He turned his head in every direction, drinking in the wonder of the underwater world. Questions crowded into his mind. Who or what could have built such a structure? Did it sink or was it always underwater? Was it part of an ancient civilisation or just an odd natural formation?
He could see why it would be fascinating for treasure hunters, but was there any actual treasure? If so, what hope did they have of finding it? Yet why else would Susano-wo have sent them here?
Kiyomi gave his hand a sharp tug and pointed upwards. Kenny looked. All he saw was the silhouette of the giant turtle still cruising above, a black shadow against the bright surface. And then it hit him: he could only see the turtle. Where had all the sharks gone? Kenny’s stomach lurched. What could scare off a thousand sharks?
The answer came from the middle distance: a cluster of silvery dots growing larger with each passing second. Kiyomi looped her fingers into Kenny’s weight belt and hauled him backwards. She pointed to a narrow chasm behind a rectangular boulder and kicked towards it.
Dwayne glided away to take a better look at the rapidly closing objects. Not liking the look of them, he unsheathed two wicked-looking combat knives and held them ready.
The approaching objects sharpened into five-metre long metallic blue cylinders with stabilising fins, dead black eyes and gaping mouths crammed with hooked teeth: mako sharks.
Kenny took a last look and gasped, almost ejecting his breathing regulator, as Kiyomi yanked him into the fissure. As if a hunting pack of mako sharks wasn’t terrifying enough, each predator was carrying some kind of humanoid creature on its back. It was only a split-second glimpse, but Kenny saw grey skin, pointed heads and jagged spears in hands, all bearing down on the hapless Dwayne.
Kiyomi wriggled her way as deep as she could into the dark crevice. Kenny followed blindly, bumping his face into Kiyomi’s shoulder and dislodging his mask. Salt water flooded in. He was about to clear his mask when he felt Kiyomi’s steely grip on his hand. Squinting through the seawater stinging his eyes, he saw Kiyomi holding her breath and stabbing a finger upwards. A cloud of silvery air bubbles was rising from his exhaust valve, as obvious as a smoke signal.
Kenny concentrated for a moment, summoning his ki, and imagined one large bubble. The rising cluster of individual globules shivered and coalesced into a single sphere. Maintaining his focus, Kenny directed the bubble downwards, into the depths of the channel they were hiding in. Now all they needed to do was wait it out until the shark pack lost interest and moved on.
Something brushed against Kenny’s head and he reached up to catch a hard, flat object. Peering at it in the near dark, he recognised the blade of one of Dwayne’s knives. He turned it in a semi-circle, to grasp the handle – and was confronted by a severed hand, still gripping tightly.
‘YAAAAGH!’ Kenny yelled, losing his mouthpiece and his concentration. The bubbles shot upwards once more.
He fumbled for his regulator and exhaled to empty the water from his mask. As his vision cleared, he saw Kiyomi shaking her fist at him and backing away along the crevice, while shooting fearful glances upwards.
Shadows converged overhead and one of the shark-riders dismounted to stand astride the chasm. It peered down into the gloom and Kenny felt its eyes bore into him. He shrank back, pressing himself against the rock to blend into the shadows. He knew he had nowhere to run.
In its webbed hands, the creature clutched a long spear with twin serrated blades. It steadied itself and took aim.
‘Something’s wrong!’ Matt said, staring out at the placid sea from the stern of the boat.
‘What do you mean?’ Charles asked, stepping out of the shade of the small cabin. ‘In what way?’
‘Just give me that aquascope over there.’ Matt pointed to a fat tube stowed beside the scuba tanks.
Charles fetched the instrument, but didn’t hand it over immediately. ‘That’s my son down there. I need to know if he’s in danger.’
‘Fine,’ Matt grumbled, holding his hand out. ‘I just saw a bunch of hammerheads jump out of the water.’
‘Is that unusual?’
‘Hell, yeah. It’s one of those things that’s possible in theory, but no one’s ever seen it happen. Question is, why are they doing it now?’
Matt took the aquascope. He flattened himself on the diving platform, pressing his face against the tube’s cushioned viewing pane, and plunged the other end into the sea. He evidently didn’t like what he saw. Cursing, he jumped up and went for his speargun.
‘What’s going on?’ Charles asked, a knot of worry growing in his stomach.
‘Mako sharks,’ Matt said. ‘Big suckers. I’ve never seen anything like it before. They’re hunting in groups and sweeping like in a search pattern.’
‘Searching? For what?’
‘Give you three guesses. Whoa! There goes one of them now.’ Matt’s outstretched finger followed the silvery dorsal fin of a shark gliding by