Fossegrim
Book Three in the
Undraland Series
By
Mary E. Twomey
Copyright © 2015 Mary E. Twomey
Cover Art by Humble Nations
Author Photo by Lisabeth Photography
All rights reserved.
First Edition: June 2015
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
ISBN-13: 978-1511718332
ISBN-10: 1511718331
For information:
http://www.maryetwomey.com
DEDICATION
For Saxon Boaz-Danger Twomey
Buy your mother lots of presents.
One.
Adrift
Foss shook his head as he, Jamie and I ran away from the lake where the Nøkken portal to the Land of Be had just been destroyed by Nik. “We stick to the plan. Let’s head for the docks. As soon as Alrik and Charles stop fiddling with the water, Tor will grab them and they’ll meet us in Fossegrim.” We were holding hands so Jamie could vanish us, which made for an awkward escape.
“What if they need our help?” I argued as we ran toward the ocean. Well, I ran. They trotted, their long legs making the trek far easier on them. “How can you be sure that bloody body we saw floating to the surface wasn’t Jens?”
Jamie’s steps faltered, but Foss righted him. Foss’s response was firm. “Nøkken have the upper hand in a water fight. If we get involved, it’ll mean death for us all. Those who can be of use are helping. We’re sticking to the plan. Let’s go.”
I wanted to run back to Nik and Jens, but part of me saw the merit in Foss’s logic. I wasn’t even the best swimmer in gym class. And tritons? Those Nøkken were no joke. Plus, given my last experience when the Nøkkendalig attacked me underwater, I wasn’t keen on getting back in a lake so soon.
Jens was probably fine. He had Uncle Rick, Charles, Britta and Tor. They would find him and help him. His body probably wasn’t the one I saw with blood blooming out into the water in red puffs, streaking through the blue in ribbons. I felt cold and empty. The limbo of not knowing felt like a vice around my throat.
When we reached the dock, Foss took the lead. Jamie kept me vanished outside a small shanty just off the dock while Foss negotiated a small boat for us to cross the water in.
I had no idea Undraland was so vast. I heard Foss talking with the merchant, and he pointed to a piece of land so far away, it was barely visible. The dock worker had a fear of Foss that went beyond being intimidated by his physical appearance. Foss’s reputation had preceded him. Whatever softening had happened as a result of Mace’s whistle stripping away layers of his curse was pushed out by his sneer that seemed even more cruel than usual.
Foss paid the man, who began loading into the small boat the baskets Foss pointed to. There was a basket of food, one with blankets and clothes, one with nets, and a few I could not tell what was inside.
When Foss gave us a discreet nod, we made our way invisibly to the dock with quiet feet. Jamie lowered me down and Foss steadied me with his hands on my hips. I didn’t love the fact that since I was the smallest of our trio, I was to sit on the floor between the two wooden seats. I curled my knees to my chest to make room for the invisible man.
The image of surely not Jens bleeding out in the water imprinted itself on the inside of my eyelids, taunting me whenever I drew breath. Since I was invisible and no one would see my miniature breakdown, I turned my head to the side and wept into Jamie’s thigh.
Jamie ran his hands through my blonde tangles. “There, there. Nik knew this was a possibility. We all did going into it. There wasn’t time for him to suffer much, and we must be grateful for that.”
“Grateful? We have no idea if Jens is even alive! Nik’s body surfaced, but Jens went down there invisible. If he’s dead, will we even know? How will they find his body?”
Jamie gripped my hair too hard to be comforting. “When Tomten die, our magic leaves us, so he’ll be easy to spot.”
“That’s it? That’s all you can say? He’s your best friend!”
Jamie didn’t answer, but looked far off into the distance. Through the psychic bond we shared, I could tell he was not anxious to reach our destination, but more nervous for what happened when we did. “It’s best we remain concealed in the land of the Fossegrimens. They don’t value women as your culture does.”
“Okay,” I answered, forsaking open grieving and turning inward.
Jens could be dead right now. The invisible force I’d taken for granted was gone. I had hope that he would survive, but no assurances. I was more connected to Jamie than to him, and I really hated that. If he died, would I feel the ping? Would I know across an ocean in my heart that he stopped existing? Would the pounding in my chest feel hollow, or would I keep hoping for his return, eternally pining in my state of relationship limbo?
I was so tired of surviving. I rested against Jamie’s thigh between his legs and closed my eyes, pretending the hand in my hair wasn’t to vanish me, but to bring me comfort. I had to do a lot of pretending lately. I could feel Jamie’s angst through our psychic bond, which only compounded my own.
Foss rowed us across the water toward the docks. As we got closer, the landscape changed. Instead of the vivid green of Nøkken with its gorgeous flowers and bursting nature, Fossegrim was only sparsely green with muted sand and limited foliage along the outskirts of the island. There were beige tents set up along the coastline with various merchants selling their wares. It was Aladdin’s town from the cartoon I always thought was a little too racy to be for children.
Foss took charge, correctly sensing Jamie and I were useless in our current state. “You’ll stay here. I’ll send Viggo for you. He’ll bring you to my house where we’ll wait. Stay hidden until you get to my bedroom.” He snapped his finger to make sure we were paying attention, since he couldn’t see us. “Not my property. Not my house. My bedroom. If the Mouthpiece catches wind of you on Fossegrim soil, you’ll be easy to find. He won’t set foot on our land, but we don’t want him to know that you have. The less people know you’re here, the better. I have business to attend to, and then I’ll be home.”
Jamie agreed for the both of us, since Foss couldn’t give a crap what I thought anyway. Sure, let’s split the group further. It’s clearly proved a solid idea. Whatever. At least I get Jamie.
Foss had rowed us for nearly three hours. I was just starting to get over my slight seasickness when we docked. “Lucy, where’s your face?” Foss asked, reaching around near his knees.
“Right here,” I said, hoping he could follow my voice and wouldn’t have to pat me on the top of my head like a dog.
He did it anyway, and I cringed.
He bent his neck to try looking me in the eye. What he couldn’t see was me obstinately looking toward the heavens. Take that.
“Look, rat. Jens and your world tolerate you better than I do or my people will. If you want to get out of this intact, you’ll keep your mouth shut and your head down. You’ll get a change of clothes from Viggo when you get to my house. Keep your head down like your maidenhood depends on it. They’ve never seen a blonde before.”
“Don’t talk about my virginity,” I scolded, clutching tighter to Jamie’s thigh. I took a breath and softened a little, since Foss was actually trying to be helpful. “But I can do that. Thanks for the heads up. No one ever tells me what to expect when we get to a
new country.”
His expression was a snarl, as it usually was. “I’m not doing it for you. I owe Jens more than he’ll hold me to, and I don’t like having debts. I’m keeping you safe for his sake.”
“Aw, shucks. You say the sweetest things.”
When Foss got out of the boat, it was like losing a small elephant and a giant dark cloud. The boat floated at least a foot higher, and I felt like I could breathe well enough to feel the grief from leaving Jens and Nik behind.
Two.
Lost
The relief was short-lived. Not three minutes after Foss left us did a dockworker come to row the boat to a different port so an incoming vessel could dock.
Jamie panicked. “On my back,” he instructed in a whisper.
I did not hesitate, since the worker’s boot was coming right for my head. I wrapped my arms around Jamie’s neck, and as the worker dropped down, Jamie hefted us onto the wooden dock. “Let’s look for Foss,” he suggested, letting me hop down so I could walk beside him. I clung to his hand to keep myself unseen.
I wanted to toss around the idea of just waiting by his boat, but what did I really know about finding someone while invisible?
We had to be careful when we moved through the fishermen as we made our way toward the traders to look for Foss. Trying to get people to not knock into you when you’re invisible is tricky, especially with everything as packed as it was.
You would think locating a seven-foot tall mammoth of a man would be easy in even the thickest crowd, but apparently Foss only had a handful of inches on his peers. The Fossegrimens were a tall and surly bunch, all with matching sneers, darker skin and shifty black eyes.
“Hold tight to me,” Jamie instructed, as if I needed to be told. I didn’t want to be visible. Aside from the fact that I completely stood out with my jeans and lack of height, Foss had been right in his assessment of the view on women here. The few women that I saw were covered from head to toe and even wore a head-covering that shrouded everything but their face, which was pointed downward. They walked behind the men, never next to them. The very air I breathed had a tinge of dust and oppression mixed in that I could not help but be filled with.
Jamie moved from holding my hand to wrapping an arm around me, as if to shield me from harm. “I can feel your fear, syster. I’m here.”
If I was to be stuck with someone for a lifetime, I could do a lot worse than Jamie, I decided.
“This was a bad idea,” Jamie said, looking around at the many people who were not Foss. “We should go back to the docks and wait for anyone who comes looking for Foss’s goods. This is too dangerous for you.”
“Okay, yeah.” I really hated being the handicap, but truth be told, I was terrified. This was a far cry from my comfort zone, and I just wanted out.
Jamie and I turned around to head back the way we came. We heard a horse-drawn cart coming our way, and Jamie ducked us inside one of the tented booths to sidestep it.
The stranger couldn’t really be blamed. He couldn’t see us. The man buying spices from the vendor did a wild hand gesture to match his “these prices are ridiculous” rant and clocked Jamie in the face, hurting us both. Jamie’s head bobbed back and hit the tent pole at just the right angle. Dazed, he stumbled until he fell on the ground, taking me with him. His hand fell away from me before I lost consciousness, and all I could do was hope I was still somehow invisible to the natives.
Three.
Blonde in a Birdcage
I woke up to a headache so bad, I was afraid to open my eyes. Sure, there was a lump on the back of my cranium, but that wasn’t why I was cringing. Jamie was far away, and the ache would last until he found me. The pressure was from more than just too much blood through constricted veins. My eyes felt bugged with the symphony of agony ringing behind my ocular cavities.
Hoping Jamie was awake enough to see through my eyes, I opened them to give him something to look at.
Bars. Metal bars greeted me like a punch in the face. I was in a cage built for one. It was like a birdcage on a concrete floor, but it was built for people. There were dozens of cages lined up in two neat rows with a walkway between them. The dim light filtered in through the barred narrow windows up by the ceiling. One woman per cage. A hostage for each container.
We were in a basement, otherwise known as a dungeon. Some of the girls were still unconscious, thank goodness. They didn’t want to see this. Others were weeping with a few crying out for their mothers. One woman called out for her head covering, and then I understood. The coverings were more of a protection than a punishment. None of the young women, really still girls some of them, had anything on their heads in here, whereas out in the market, you couldn’t see a hair on their heads. My guess is it was either a shaming tactic inflicted upon them or a marketing technique to showcase what each of them had to offer.
Us. What each of us had to offer.
My head pounded in time with my heart, and I called out to Jamie in my mind to rattle him awake wherever he was.
The coherent women looked on me with relief, as if they didn’t have to worry so much since there was blonde chum in the bait. Now I was wishing for a head covering.
The girl next to me looked no more than fifteen years old, and she was sobbing uncontrollably in her cage. I wished I could offer her comfort, but my skin was cold and clammy with terror. If I had comfort, I’d take some for myself.
Come on, Jamie.
I tried to look through his eyes, but there was only darkness. Though, it was hard to tell if I was really doing it. My head pounded so bad, I had a difficult time focusing.
There was a clanking of an old skeleton key in a door at the end of the dungeon. The warden, I’m guessing, escorted in a man who thought he was very important. Puffed out chest and change purse swinging to show off for the caged women, he sized the first few up as if shopping for a ripe tomato.
I tucked my hair into my shirt and dropped down into a ball, covering my head as best I could.
I lucked out, much to the misfortune of the woman whose screams would be embedded in my brain for the rest of my life. The man saw what he wanted in the first handful of cages, so he did not venture to me.
My head hurt so badly, it felt like it might split open at the seams. There was so much pressure behind my eyes; I was afraid of spontaneous blindness, if that was a thing. I’d never before had a fear of being sold into slavery, and the newness of my current reality painted me from the inside out with panic I was not equipped to cope with. I thought on the Buddhist monks that I’d read could change matter with their minds. I hunkered down in my little ball and ran thoughts of invisibility through my head. Over and over I tried to make my body nothing so it would not be seen by the next horrible man or the rats I could hear scurrying throughout the dungeon.
Innumerable hours passed, and I wondered if it was a good thing or a bad one to take a nap to try escaping my headache. Many of the girls were asleep, and those that were not were crying softly. I had no comfort to offer anyone. I actually felt pretty bad that our mission was to take away the Land of Be from them. It seemed like a fair option for someone who’d been through too much at the under-ripe ages I saw them at. To forfeit what was left of your soul for a lifetime of forgetting this awful day seemed like a bargain. To give up my right arm to keep hands off me felt like a good option.
I touched my sternum, searching for Linus.
The heart-shaped glass vial was gone. In my capture, someone had removed the necklace, taking my brother from me.
I sobbed as silently as I could. My brother was the only thing that was mine. He was supposed to go through life with me. My other half was probably being sold for a twenty and a pack of cigarettes.
Linus was gone, and I was alone.
I bawled into my hand, drowning in my fear and the pounding in my head I could not shake.
Four.
Aladdin’s Ghetto
Someone stabbed at my ribs with a metal prod, jerking me awake too soo
n.
I felt my neck again, but Linus was still gone.
No, none of it was a dream. I was not in my bunk bed with Tonya. I would never see her again. There was no college, there was no family, and there was no Jens. Just a rough jab to my side that forced me to sit up to get away from it.
I looked up through my head-pained haze and saw pure malice looking down at me. Malice with money – not a good combination, given my current situation.
“She’s not old enough to be useful on the fields or in the kitchen,” the newcomer argued with the warden.
The warden was filthy, probably from spending his days abducting women off the streets in broad daylight. Thanks, citizens who saw that happen and did nothing. The warden was missing three front teeth. I was hoping it was from a woman fighting back and trying to knock some sense into him. His black hair was dry, brittle and torn clean out in parts.
The man considering my purchase looked at me with mild disdain and appraising interest. I slammed my will to be invisible over and over throughout my body, trying to make it the only thing in the air around me.
When that did not deter his gaze, it dawned on me that invisible might not be possible, but crazy sure was. I flipped a switch and became what I hoped looked like the most repulsive version of myself imaginable. I crossed one eye and started drooling big gobs of spit down my chin onto the floor. I reached out with my left arm, pretending my left hand was stuck in a shriveled, useless shape. I began singing the Partridge Family like it was my life’s anthem, only I sang it in Spanish, which I assumed they didn’t have here.
Thank you, David Cassidy. You saved my life. And thank you, Señora Brown, my sophomore Spanish teacher who translated one of my favorite songs for me. And let’s face it, anyone who walks around singing the Partridge Family with such gusto for no reason is, well, probably crazy.
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