Fear the Drowning Deep

by Sarah Glenn Marsh

  It was only a matter of agonizing moments.

  Raised voices sounded from the front of the house, startling me into alertness.

  The window was now streaked with raindrops, and the sky beyond it still steely gray, though my empty stomach told me it was nearing suppertime. I hurried into the hall, shutting the door with care to avoid waking Grayse.

  Fynn and Da weren’t in the house.

  Mam, tousle-haired and clad in a robe, stood in the doorway. She didn’t acknowledge me when I peered over her shoulder and asked what the fuss was. But I answered my own question as I took in the bizarre gathering on our lawn.

  Standing on one side of the road, soaking up the rain, were Da and Fynn. Their fishing gear lay in a heap at their feet. They glared at five figures opposite them: Mr. Gill and four surly men who often smoked pipes at the tavern. Mr. Gill held something long and thin in his hands, and Fynn’s gaze was trained upon it.

  “He has to come with us, Peddyr,” Mr. Gill insisted, gesturing at Fynn.

  Da shook his head. “He doesn’t have to do anything. He’s a guest here. My guest.”

  Mr. Gill shifted his weight. “I know you’re not happy about it, but Mrs. Kissack swears she saw the lad outside her window not an hour ago, leering and beckoning her to come outside. And when she did, she saw footprints leading over the cliffs!”

  I clenched my hands at my sides. Mrs. Kissack had surely been dreaming.

  Da scoffed, too. “Fynn was at sea with me! Whoever she saw, it couldn’t have been him. Danell, think, man! You stopped us on the way back from the harbor with our fishing gear!”

  Mr. Gill cleared his throat. “Yes. Well. Even if she is mistaken, there are plenty of folk here who’d as soon take her word for it. And don’t tell me you can’t imagine why. He shows up just days after that unfortunate girl drowned, claiming he remembers nothing, hardly says a word to anyone—”

  “And why should I?” Fynn’s eyes flashed. “I can recognize an idiot without having to engage one in conversation.” He crossed his arms, and one of the men imitated him.

  Da clapped a hand on Fynn’s shoulder. “He’s been with me since before Liss went missing. He even reeks of fish!”

  Mr. Gill tugged at his collar, his eyes bulging slightly. I hoped his shirt would choke him. “Still, he’s one of the only suspects we’ve got. He has to be taken in for questioning. And should he fail to provide answers to our satisfaction, a constable from Peel will take him someplace more … permanent.”

  Take Fynn where, exactly? And what did he mean by permanent?

  “Come with me, son,” Mr. Gill commanded, extending a hand to Fynn. Then I understood. He meant a cell, confinement, sentencing for crimes Fynn hadn’t committed. All to lure the town into a false sense of safety that would crumble the moment someone else’s head turned up in the harbor. Like Liss’s.

  Mam shook her head and pressed her fingers to her lips. “Danell! How do we know you’re not the one behind these murders? Has anyone questioned you? What if I saw you outside my window, hmm?”

  Mr. Gill’s lips twitched, but he didn’t spare a glance for Mam. He and his men advanced, forcing Fynn back. Da reached for something on his belt—a knife—but Mr. Gill was quicker. He aimed the long, thin object toward the sky, his face expressionless.

  A bang reverberated through the still morning air as the end of the old hunting rifle exploded.

  “Peddyr!” Mam’s cry drew neighbors from their houses with a chorus of front doors creaking open.

  “Stop it!” A scream ripped from my throat as I pushed past Mam, running toward the men. “You have no idea what you’re doing. You’re only making things worse! Fynn is the only person who can help Liss. If you take him, she’s doomed!”

  “Stay back, Bridey!” Da growled as I neared him, his eyes narrowed at the rifle.

  “Wait!” Fynn held up his hands. “I’ll go.” He walked stiffly to Mr. Gill’s side, avoiding my gaze. “Lower your weapon. I’ll go.” The two broad-chested men seized him, securing his arms behind his back.

  Mr. Gill lowered the rifle. “That’s as it should be.”

  I ran toward Fynn but the men blocked my way. “I hate you!” I didn’t care who heard me. Weak Mr. Gill, his supporters, the neighbors who stared from their front steps like I was the evening’s entertainment. “I hate all of you!”

  Mr. Gill turned, a sad smile on his graying face. “Go chase your sea monsters, lass, and forget this troublemaker.”

  As he marched Fynn onto the road, I started after him, but Da swiftly grabbed me.

  “Bridey! Get control of yourself!” He pinned my arms at my sides, and I struggled against him. “Ouch!” He winced as my foot connected with his shin. “We have to let Fynn go for now. But we’ll fight this. Don’t you doubt it for a second.”

  I peered up the road, trying to spot Fynn in the group, but the figures all blurred together.

  As Da lifted me into his arms, Mr. Gill’s voice carried on the wind. “Soon as we lock this one up, we’ll pay a visit to the witch.”

  Morag. I had to warn her and get the poison so I could use it, with or without Fynn.

  I twisted in Da’s arms, but his grip was firm. “Easy, bird.” He brought his face closer to mine. It was as blurry as the figures striding up the road.

  Inside, Mam poured tea and made toast, but I said I’d rather go to bed without supper. I’d have to sneak out my window—there was no way Mam and Da would let me out of the house tonight. As I reached the bedroom door, I turned back, watching my parents sip their tea with shaking hands.

  For a moment, I considered telling them the whole story. About the fearsome creatures hidden in the deep, and Fynn’s secret. But I knew as I studied their faces, even as they discussed curses and the Little Fellas in hushed tones, that there were certain things people just couldn’t believe until they saw for themselves.

  That, and there wasn’t time to talk.

  As I slipped into my room and shut the door behind me, Da murmured, “Mureal, where did you put my boots? I’m heading back out to look for Liss myself. Danell Gill and his search party are as useless as a fish trying to walk on land.”

  A chill stole over me as I thought of Da rowing his boat into the serpent-infested water. It was all the more reason to hurry.

  Hoping Morag’s poison would be ready, I crossed to the window, popped the latch and slid open the glass panel. It would be just a short drop to the muddy ground.

  “Where are you going?”

  I turned, pulling back my hands from the window ledge. Grayse blinked up at me, half-awake and stretching.

  I tried to smile. “To save Liss. And Fynn and Morag, too, if I can manage it.”

  Grayse threw back the blankets. “When will you come home?”

  “Soon, I hope. Tonight.” I forced a smile. “But I need you to do me a favor.” Grayse bobbed her head. “Good. You can’t tell Mam I’m gone. Don’t even let her in our room. Understand?”

  Grayse nodded again, looking more alert as she warmed to the idea.

  “If she wants to give me anything—food, tea—insist on bringing it yourself. Tell her I’m exhausted, and I don’t wish to speak with her right now.”

  “Can I eat the food?” Grayse widened her eyes hopefully.

  “You can eat it all, if you like. Just make sure you get sick out the window, not in here where Mam will have to clean.”

  I hitched up my skirt and threw one leg over the window ledge. There was no screen to push away. It had fallen out years before.

  “Come back soon,” Grayse whispered.

  “I’ll try, little fish. I love you. Tell Mam I love her, too.”

  I landed in a cold puddle, spattering mud up my once-white stockings. After a gulp of fresh air, I took off running through the rain, hoping the light would last long enough for me to find Liss.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Folk watched my dash up the road. No doubt they’d all heard the gunshot earlier—not to mention the scre
ams—and longed to ask if the gossip was true, or to confirm I’d completely lost my mind. Perhaps I needed to build my own cottage on my favorite hill, just across the way from Morag’s. We could wave to each other from our private mountains, and never have to endure the ogling of those too blind to see danger staring them in the face. They spread fear and speculation faster than flames on dry kindling, and in doing so, they made evil witches where there should have been only magic and wonder and a lonely old woman.

  I charged up the hill, the cool rain pleasant on my face until I reached the trees.

  Minutes later, I was pounding on the rotting door. “Morag! Open up!” Something rustled inside. “Liss is missing! I found her shawl on the beach. The serpent must have taken her, and now Da’s gone to sea to look—”

  “In this weather? At this hour?” The door flung open, hinges screeching in protest. “Has he lost his mind?” Morag’s eyes watered, and an unpleasant odor tickled my nose. It seemed to be oozing from the black paste on her hands.

  Before I even opened my mouth to ask, she demanded, “Where’s your glashtyn friend? He wouldn’t have trouble finding your sister, storm or no.”

  I ducked under the cover of the dripping cottage eaves. “Fynn was arrested! The missing people all turned up in the harbor. At least, parts of them did. And Mr. Gill thinks Fynn is likely responsible.” I brushed rain and tears off my cheeks. “I’m afraid Mr. Gill and his men are coming for you next. I came to warn—”

  “Gill’s an old fool!” Morag drew herself up. “I knew his da once. Not well, mind you, but it’s no surprise his son shares his mulish ways.”

  “Then you understand why you have to hide!” I glanced over my shoulder, reassured by the sight of the empty path. “But I need your help first. They’re searching for Liss by land, but we both know I can’t hope to save her without the poison.”

  “And it’s ready.” Morag smiled, holding out her messy hands. “Now come inside before you melt!”

  “This isn’t a social call!” I stomped my foot, splashing mud in all directions. “There’s no time for tea or cake. I need the poison, and you need to find a hiding place if you don’t fancy spending the rest of your days in prison, or worse!”

  “I know,” she answered calmly. “But there’s no sense in getting soaked while I put the poison in a jar.” She made a sweeping motion toward the cottage interior. “Warm yourself by the fire a moment.”

  A black pot sat on Morag’s hearth, full of stinking goo identical to the paste on her hands. I peered into its depths, half-expecting something to bubble up and snarl in my face.

  Morag kneeled at the hearth, clutching a glass jar. “In order for the poison to take full effect, the serpent has to ingest it.” Seeing the puzzled look on my face, she added flatly, “He has to swallow it. Though I won’t complain if you use some of this to blind his good eye.”

  “I know what ingest means. I’m just wondering, if the goo is so deadly, why is it all over your hands?”

  Morag held her jar above the pot and smiled, showing off her remaining teeth. “This poison is only mildly irritating to the skin. I’ll have blisters by tonight, but …” Her smile widened. “Someone had to test it. I fed some to a rat that’s been stealing my bread.”

  My lip curled in disgust. “Poor longtail! Couldn’t you have used a spoon?”

  She scooped the green-black sludge into the jar and murmured, “That’d be taking the easy way, wouldn’t it?”

  Running a hand through my damp hair, I studied the jar. “I just pour this in the serpent’s mouth?” My hands tingled as I considered how close I would have to get to the giant needle-teeth. “I couldn’t, say, dump it in the water and hope it swallows some?”

  Morag arched a brow. Her silence was answer enough.

  “Well, I killed the fossegrim during Mally’s wedding feast with a carving knife. I’m ready to slay bigger monsters, like King Arthur’s knights did in the old stories. You can call me Sir Gawain.”

  “Not Lady Guinevere?”

  I wrinkled my nose and frowned. “She never got to do anything important.”

  I studied the old woman’s mangled foot, the careful way she kept her balance, the power with which she flexed her gnarled fingers. “But you can. Come with me. Help me stop the serpent, so you won’t have to live in fear anymore.”

  Morag shook her head. “Killing a fossegrim took tremendous strength, Apprentice Bridey. You have more courage than any knight. More than me.” She struggled to her feet and started rummaging through a cupboard. “But taking on the serpent is another matter, given its sheer size—”

  “I know.” I plucked the poison jar from the hearth and cradled it. If I lost the precious liquid within, Liss would be gone forever. She probably already was. All I had was hope. Foolish hope. “And just so you know, I missed you at the feast.”

  The sound of Morag pushing aside mugs and glasses stopped. She paused, a whiskey jar in her right hand.

  “But I understand why you didn’t come. Most folk here are keen to believe the worst. Why, you’re a better friend to me than nearly anyone has ever been.”

  It was strange to think that when I had arrived at the cottage that first day, I’d worried Morag might chop me up for her evening stew. She was blunt, even cold at times, yet she had never questioned the things I told her. Never made me feel like I’d taken leave of my senses and conjured a world of sea monsters for my own amusement. Now, being in her presence filled me with a sense of calm and purpose.

  I glanced up from the floor. It was difficult to see in the dim light, but Morag’s body shuddered with sobs. Abandoning the mess, I hurried to her side.

  “You shouldn’t call me a friend.” She pushed the whiskey jar back into the cupboard’s depths, her sea-foam eyes streaming. “I’m a coward and a fool,” she declared shakily. “But I refuse to face the serpent again.”

  “I understand,” I murmured, though I didn’t really. I longed to hide from the sea the way Morag hid from the beast that had left her crippled, but I couldn’t any longer. “I have to go now. Liss needs me.” I strode toward the door, Morag hobbling at my heels. “You might be able to survive up here all alone, but I can’t live without my sister.”

  I darted into the gloomy afternoon. Gaps in the treetops revealed steely clouds, and cold rain dripped from the leafy canopy. Droplets smacked the top of my head as a distant rumble of thunder rocked the sky.

  “Bridey! Wait!” Morag stood in the doorway, holding a crumpled, yellowing piece of paper. “I almost forgot, I found this for you!” Even from a distance, I knew what it was—the missing page of Morag’s monster book.

  I hurried back, prepared to snatch the paper and run for the harbor, but Morag’s fingers closed around my wrist. The more I struggled, the tighter she held on.

  “At least let me tell you what it says before you go running off. You need to know what you’re up against!”

  “Fine. I’m listening.”

  Her grip on my arm relaxed. “Serpents answer to no one. They have no laws, no ruler, because they consider nothing to be above themselves. Glashtyns are one of their few adversaries.”

  “How will this help me fight one?”

  “I’m getting there! Serpents are ancient beasts. The book claims they’re as old as Earth itself. And they’re powerful illusionists, capable of making men experience the most realistic visions.”

  I gave a small shudder. That explained why Thomase swore he saw Fynn at a time when he was really with me, running from the fossegrim. And why Mrs. Kissack swore she saw Fynn beside the footprints on the cliffs.

  Morag hurriedly skimmed the wrinkled paper. “According to this, serpents come from trenches. Yawning caverns on the ocean floor seemingly without end.”

  This sounded rather far-fetched, even after everything I’d learned over the summer. “Everything has an end—”

  “Not necessarily.” Morag frowned. “Men build boats, they drop anchors and cast fishing lines, but all they do is skim t
he surface. Maybe some wonder what’s in the deep, far beyond their reach, but none of them know, and they never will.” Her frown deepened. “For most of them, the truth would shatter their narrow minds.”

  I hugged the poison jar to my chest and glanced at the path. “I’ll remember that. Now I must go, and so should you, before Mr. Gill turns up with his rifle.”

  Morag nodded. She grabbed a ratty cloak and a lantern. “I’m coming with you. I may not be able to go near the water, but there must be something I can do.” There was an urgent note in her voice I’d never heard before. “I owe it to you, and to your grandfather.”

  “My grandfather? You mean Grandad?”

  “Not him.” Morag tucked her braids into her hood. “I mean your mam’s father.” She paused, her eyes glistening. “He stole my heart when I was just a girl of thirteen.”

  I dug my toes into the mud, trying to digest this startling detail. “Look, Da and Liss need me.” I offered Morag my arm. “Walk with me toward the harbor, but keep your voice down.” Morag slipped her frail arm through mine.

  She kept a steady pace, bumping my side when the road dipped unexpectedly. “I admired Turner—your grandfather—from a distance for years. And after a sickness claimed everyone in my family but me, Turner’s parents took me in. That’s just the kind of people they were, the sort who never knew a stranger.”

  She smiled at something I couldn’t see. “We were always friends, never sweethearts, no matter how I tried to get his attention. He fell for another girl in town. She had eyes like yours, and a voice sweeter than dolphin-song. For years, I believed I could change his mind.”

  “And did you?” I guided us off the road, casting anxious glances at the lit windows of nearby houses.

  “No. But by the time I realized I couldn’t capture his heart, I’d grown accustomed to living alone.” The farther we went, the more Morag relied on me to steady her. My arm went numb from the pressure.

  “Your grandfather provided for me after the serpent nearly took my foot, and when he died, I wanted to be left alone more than ever. But children harassed me. They threw rocks at the windows in the middle of the night. Left rubbish on my lawn. Shouted nasty things at me when I went into town.” Her chin trembled, and we walked in silence for a while. “That’s why I started the rumors that I was a witch. To frighten them away.”