Undraland (9 page)

Eleven.

The Fellowship of the Rake

I locked myself in Jens’s cramped bathroom and fished through the pack for something dry that felt like home.
Ah, my lucky red Partridge Family t-shirt.
It was the good kind of T that was so washed, it was soft as a blanket. It was my nice people barometer. The Partridge Family has hardly any following by my generation, so when someone does comment on it, it’s usually the nice ones. The beatnik flower children who don’t cause many problems. Crucial weeding tool for starting over in a new place. Plus, the Partridge Family is awesome. You try being in a bad mood when David Cassidy’s telling you to “Come on, Get Happy” with that cutie pie smile of his.

I changed in record time, hanging my wet stuff up on Jens’s rustic shower curtain rod. I took a moment to put my hair in clips so it didn’t drip in my face. When I emerged, everyone stared at me, as if they had not moved since I left them. “Um, hi. Carry on, guys. Don’t mind me.”

“Actually, we were just about to start. Everyone’s here, and this concerns you, too.” Uncle Rick motioned for me to join them.

The cabin was small, built for one large jaggoff. Filling it with five oversized men, one tall woman and a dwarf made comfort impossible. I decided to sit on Jens’s straw mattress, since that was the only space not occupied.

Uncle Rick called the meeting to order, stopping a few brewing arguments over which of their war heroes was great, and which were blights to their kind. I was just glad to be out of that blinding sun. I could actually see in here.

My uncle stood in the center of the room with his bearded chin raised. “Most of you know why I’ve called you all here. Thank you for making the journey. There are some who were invited that chose to ignore my summons.” This brought about a grumble in the ranks. Uncle Rick continued, “There’s no other way to say this, so please hold your questions until the end. Pesta is on the move.” Despite his request, questions broke out, and were promptly ignored.

Jens whistled to rein everyone back in.

Uncle Rick continued. “Thank you. As I said, Pesta has become unsatisfied with her number of souls, so she’s petitioning to recruit more. I have it on good authority that she’s constructing a portal for humans to add their souls to her collection.”

Then there was chaos. So many robust personalities in one room collided and made for a noisy audience. Uncle Rick clapped his hands. “Some of you are aware of her recipe for constructing a portal using the broom of the first siren. She uses a myriad of spells to enchant the entrance, which is built out of the bones of the race she wishes to capture. She has stolen almost enough bones to make a new portal. Humans are the only race she has not yet conquered.” His use of the word “conquered” cause many disparaging comments. Poor Uncle Rick. I was beginning to understand the plight of the average substitute teacher trying to maintain control over a new classroom.

Nik spoke up, his blue-white sparkle hair perfectly in place, setting off his glowing white teeth nicely. “Maybe she’s just repairing one of her existing portals. What race were the bones from?”

Uncle Rick’s answer brought about silence to the arguers. “They were from a human family who were also Undran.” He turned to me, now that the room was deadly quiet.

“Huh,” I offered lamely. This was all very interesting, but I could not imagine why I needed to know any of it. I was light years behind everyone else in the room, as far as magical world knowledge went. Uncle Rick was sweet to slow things down for me.

“The portals are taking in too many. Soon it will be that the number inside exceeds those of us in Undra. I believe Pesta’s on the verge of waging war against us. Targeting humans is her last move. After she depletes their population, we will be helpless to stop her from overpowering us all.”

There was silence still, a few wary glances exchanged to imply uncertainty of Uncle Rick’s accusations. “That’s a bit of a leap, don’t you think?” chimed in Nik.

“Not at all. The souls she welcomes into her Land of Be are not prone to aging or death. They keep adding to her numbers daily.”

“Sure, but they’re stuck in Be, so there’s nothing to worry about,” Nik argued.

Uncle Rick was patient. Linus and I had trained him well after years of “Are we there yet” and “I don’t understand”. My uncle’s voice only grew quieter, forcing even the noise from shifting feet to die down. “Pesta’s already breeched the contract she made with the kings when she was originally sequestered to the Land of Be.” Then, with an air of awesome finality, Uncle Rick dug in his satchel and pulled out a dead bunny.

Well, it was sort of a bunny. It had a squirrel’s tail, brown bunny face and ears, and its body was striped brown and black, like a raccoon’s tail. For the sake of argument, we’ll call it a bunny.

Uncle Rick smacked it on the floor in the center of the room. “This is what she’s done. This kanin had a soul in it. The treaty stated she could have dominion over the bears, and she promised to give the peaceful souls free reign inside the bears. A second glimpse of life for the worthy. The Other Side now has all manner of Were animal, inhabited by souls that are anything but peaceful.” Then he turned to me. “Jens, can you attest to there being Weredogs on your side?”

Jens nodded, his arms crossed over his chest to fend off any disbelief that might come from the others. “Three Weredogs were tracking us on the Other Side. Pesta’s gone way past her boundaries. The souls she put inside them weren’t the peaceful kind, either. Hunt to kill.”

Uncle Rick continued, motioning to Peter Rabbit on the floor. “This is a Werekanin. Jens found it in Undraland and brought it to my attention.”

Questions and comments broke out once again, shattering the hold Uncle Rick had on the conversation. The bunny carcass was poked and prodded until each member confirmed it was a Were animal. I was grateful no one passed the poor thing to me.

“It’s impossible, Alrik!” Foss protested. His voice was deep and made me want to look away, lest he get angry with me. I kept my body tight to the corner of the cabin atop Jens’s bed with my knees hugged to my chest.

Uncle Rick slid open the bunny’s furry eyelids, revealing pale yellow irises like the Werebear and the Weredogs that attacked Jens and me.

Foss’s voice was stern, his face etched in a scowl that appeared permanent. “This thing you’re telling us, it’s not an option. She’s tried making a portal from human bones before, but they never worked.”

“Ah, but these bones came from two Undrans who married and reproduced. A Huldra woman and a half-human, half-elfin man.” Uncle Rick turned to me. “The half-breed was a friend of mine who grew up near me in Elvage.”

Jamie spoke up, his finger in the air as if raising his hand in class. “I know elves are progressive as far as their stance on intermingling with other species, but a half-human? I’m certain I would’ve heard of it.”

Uncle Rick nodded. “Which is why this forward thinker left Undraland for the Other Side over two decades ago when the Huldras were forced out. He went over with his newly married Huldra wife when she was banished.” Uncle Rick turned to me. “Part of Pesta’s treaty with the rulers of Undraland was that she would only leave for Be if the Huldras were banished. She reasoned that if sirens were dangerous, Huldras were just as much.” Then to me, he explained, “Huldras control people with their whistle, and sirens use their voice.” He scratched his beard as he spoke to the group. “We agreed, to our great shame, and Huldra refugees were set loose on the Other Side, which is your world, Lucy. A peaceful race turned bitter overnight.”

Britta was playing with her knife as if it was a pencil, twiddling it on her opposite hand mindlessly. “So the half-human half-elfin man married a Huldra, and then they were sent to the Other Side?”

“Britta, you’re right on the nose, dear.” Uncle Rick smiled. “The half-breed man’s mother was an elfish nursemaid before she got pregnant. She confided in me she had crossed over to the Other Side so she could find a man to impregnate her, since it appeared her husband was sterile. Not even her husband knew he was not the father. They raised their son, the man who grew up to marry the Huldra woman, and retired to Be. No one knew, save for me. I was quite close with the half-breed’s mother.” He stroked his beard, his eyes far off as if a memory of warmth rose up in him, but he had to put the fantasy away. “Thus, the man in question Pesta found for her human portal is half-elfish, half-human.”

“The one that’s married to the Huldra,” Nik clarified.

Uncle Rick nodded. “Exactly.”

Tor’s astonishment matched the others’, except for Jens, who moved over and sat atop the foot of the bed I was huddled on. Tor threw his hands up, flummoxed. “I didn’t know that was an option. Humans inter-doing with Undrans. What’s next? A bird with a fish? Pesta must’ve been looking long and hard ta find that sorry lad.”

Jamie shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he leaned against the wall. “But the bones of one man. That’s not enough. She’ll need more.”

Uncle Rick nodded. “And so she hunts for more.”

Nik spoke up, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned on the door. “With all due respect to you, Rick, I don’t see what we can do to stop Pesta from creating a new portal for humans. The most we can do is tell our kings and let them deal with it.”

“Oh, I plan on doing exactly that,” Uncle Rick assured the group. “But I cannot imagine anyone closing their portals voluntarily.”

Tor shouted above the arguing this brought about. “But if ya close the portals, the souls’re stuck in the Land of Be forever! No one can get in or out, Alrik. That’s no solution. Ya close off people’s retirement plan, ya’ll find yerself dead by morning.”

“It’s true.” Uncle Rick’s tone was even. He was always unshakable. I loved him for that. “People go to the Land of Be for many reasons. Some work their whole lives so they can one day leave this world of toil and go there to be free from it all. Others are in such pain, their only way out is either death or Pesta’s land of perpetual relief. No one wants to believe she’s capable of taking down humans now. No one will admit that she’s grown too power-hungry and is zealous for more souls. We were promised the Werebears would never harm a living person, but we all know she never intended to keep that promise. When that was violated, the agreement should have ended. Step by step, she’s taking more ground from us because she knows we will do nothing to stop her. We covet the potential for eternal escape far too much. No one sees what she’s really after.”

“And ya think ya know?” Tor questioned, his wide gait and too many clanging items hanging off his belt shifted as he spoke.

“Shut up, dwarf,” Foss snapped.

“Do ya want ta throw down here? It’s been too long since I’ve strangled a Fossegrimen. Useless fiddlers.”

The angry The Rock scoffed. “At your height, you’d be strangling my waist.”

Uncle Rick held up his hands, but silence fell only at Jens’s commanding bark, which made me jump. “Shut it, or get out. None of you has to be here for this. Alrik and I’ll do what we have to, with or without your help.”

Nik postured. “The day I leave fate in the hands of a lowly Tomten farmer will be a cold day in the Darklands.”

Britta’s knife went from toy to weapon in a flash. She postured and darted to where her brother sat on the bed, standing before him with a vicious sneer that belied her genteel language and Amish bonnet. Jamie moved in front of Jens, chest puffed out and a deadly expression directed at Nik, who held up his hands to show he didn’t mean to physically attack Jens.

Jamie snarled, “Do you know who he is? Jens the Brave slayed a tribe of trolls to protect the ‘lowly Tomten farmers’. You’ll show proper respect to a hero in any country.”

Nik shook his head. “An aged elf and a garden gnome? You have to know your mission is doomed.”

I wanted to slap his arrogant face, but part of me knew Nik was fronting.

Britta drew her knife back, as if one more wrong word would send it plunging into Nik’s belly. “My brother is one of the last guardian gnomes. And you’d do well to respect the rest of us.”

I always thought of myself as someone who went for blood if you messed with my brother, but Britta took that to the literal interpretation.

Jens stood and crossed his arms over his wide chest. “That sounds like you’re volunteering to help, Nik. Good. That’s three of us, then.”

Foss had enough of a woman posing any kind of threat, so he threw his two cents into the mix, towering over her with his handful of superior inches and dense musculature. His sculpted lips molded into a sneer. “Britta, Britta. I know of your profession. You’re the unfortunate soul in charge of taking down and burying the dead bodies after a hanging. I can’t imagine that’s made you many friends.”

Britta lowered her head in show of respect to the great Fossegrimen chief, but I could tell she was still seething. I tucked myself further into the corner. “I don’t need friends. I have enough money to live. No one will fight me for that job, so my livelihood’s secure.”

Foss spoke slowly, gearing up for the punch. “You’ve never been a proper garden gnome. Known for your knives and your ill-chosen career, but you’re certainly not known for your tomatoes.” Foss looked down at her chest pointedly.