Of Sea and Song

by Chanda Hahn

  I traced my finger around one particular shape that looked like a vortex. It glowed faintly, and then the glyph soaked into the text, disappearing into the pages. Another glyph looked like a drop of blood or a tear, while one I was sure symbolized waves. I spent a few candle marks studying the book and was fairly sure I understood a few of the more cryptic lines.

  But they were ramblings of dire warnings.

  Something of blood and song, of seas and shells.

  I studied until my eyes were crossed and I could feel the beginnings of a headache forming. I tucked the book back into its place in the trunk, being careful to put everything back exactly how I found it. Then I saw a few shirts that needed mending.

  Yes. It was the perfect excuse. I grabbed the shirts, tucked them over my arm, unlocked the door, and stepped out onto the deck. I headed out in search for a needle and thread.

  I tiptoed across the deck, heading straight for the stairs below. There was quite a lot of idleness about the ship, since there weren’t any sails to man. Two of the crew were making light repairs with pitch. The ship’s carpenter Barley was reinforcing the decking under the cannons. Swifty was asleep in the crow’s nest, while Fang and Thorn were nowhere in sight.

  Once below, I headed past the berth where the rest of the crew was resting in their hammocks and headed toward the galley.

  The old man was sitting on his three-legged stool, near the larger of the two porthole windows, his sore leg stretched out before him. His arthritic hands kneaded the muscles in his knee.

  I rapped lightly on a wooden beam to get his attention. His red-rimmed eyes looked up at me, and I saw there was something wrong. He looked off, sad.

  “What do ye want?” He turned his attention back to the window.

  “I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “But he ordered me to stay in his room.”

  “Sure, and leave poor ol’ Howland to do his work alone.” He still didn’t peel his eyes away from the sea.

  “Maybe I could help now a little before the captain gets back, as long as we don’t tell him.”

  “I don’t feel like workin’.” He scoffed. “Nor cookin’.”

  “Is something the matter, Howland? You seem different.”

  “I’m just not sleepin’ well. That’s all.” He rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand, and I felt sorry for him. Sorry that I abandoned him. He had every right to be angry with me, and if he wasn’t planning on cooking, then I would have to grab my own rations from my hammock and bring them back with me. But that still didn’t deal with my boredom.

  “Howland, do you know where there might be a mending kit?” I asked.

  “What for?”

  I held up the stack of Brennon’s shirts.

  His forehead creased as he reflected. “Well, most of the crew do their own mendin’. But those be nicely tailored, and ye not wanting what we use on the sails. Ye may find some thread and needle in our medicine stores.” He patted his hip to grab his key ring and thumbed through them. Holding the small iron key in the air, he pointed toward the bow of the ship.

  “I’m too tired to escort ye. Head toward the bow, past the spare rigs and the cargo hold, and you’ll find the ship’s stores. They’re locked up, and look for a chest yay big.” He gestured with his hands. “Ye might find what ye need in there. But lock it up when yer done. Ye hear? No one’s allowed in there except for Fang. But Brennon gave me a spare key.”

  Nodding, I took the ring of keys and headed out of the galley. The ship's stores were on the same level but had the smallest windows, and light was scarce.

  I hadn’t brought a lantern with me and didn’t trust magic to answer me if I sang. When I found a lantern, I scavenged for a match. Striking it and lighting it the old fashion way seemed lackluster. The lanterns illuminated the dark and humid cargo hold. At the very end, I saw the heavy wooden door to the ship’s stores.

  I placed the key in the heavy lock, and it became stuck. I jiggled it and it turned. The door swung inward with a creak and entered the locked storage.

  Bolts of the finest fabrics, silks, and brocades leaned in the corner. I could easily smell the exotic spices of turmeric, cumin, and curry, along with the supplies that were needed to keep the ship running. I accidentally knocked over a folded rug, and it unrolled, revealing another hidden layer.

  I raised the lantern to study the furs. Gray and speckled, the furs were warm to the touch as if they were alive. It couldn’t be. My mouth went dry as I closed my eyes and tried to find the source of the magic.

  There was something wrong. Darkness and pain. My skin felt like it was being torn from my back. I sucked in a painful breath and backed away, staring in horror at what I believed to be the items Fang and Thorn had stolen and were trying to unload.

  “Selkie furs,” I whispered, knowing I was correct. These were the living skins of selkies, seals that could turn into humans by shedding their coats and vice versa. But I could tell from the pain emanating from the skin that they weren’t removed voluntarily.

  “What evilness is this?” I cried, knowing they had taken the selkies’ magic furs by force. But for what purpose?

  I knew I needed to leave before they caught me.

  I quickly located the trunk of medicine by the healer symbol etched on the outside and searched the contents for needle and thread, which I easily found.

  No sooner had I closed the lids of the medicine box was I discovered.

  “What are you doing in here!” Fang growled from behind me. His eyes went to the exposed selkie fur. He grasped my arm and yanked me out of the storage room roughly, his fingers digging into my flesh.

  “Ouch!” I cried, and quickly tried to muffle my outcry.

  “Stealing. That’s what you were doing.”

  “No, I swear.”

  “Liar!” Fang flung me to the floor. His hand reaching for the knife on his belt.

  I rolled over and ran, scrambling to run past the cargo hold, up the steps to the main deck, but I didn’t get far. Once I hit the main deck, Thorn blocked my way.

  “Seize him!” Fang cried out.

  Obeying, Thorn grasped my other arm and yanked me back to his side.

  “Ten lashes for stealing.”

  “I wasn’t stealing!” I hissed. I dug my nails ruthlessly into Thorn’s hands, but he didn’t let up.

  “I caught you!” Fang snarled. “No one’s allowed in those stores.”

  Thorn dragged me across the deck and ripped off my outer vest, the buttons popping off and rolling across the deck. He left my oversized shirt on. With practiced hands, he tied me to the mast, my back facing the crew as they came to watch the beating unfold. Most of them were strangers, and none came forward to speak on my behalf. Howland was down below in the galley and probably hadn’t even heard the commotion. Of the few men I saw, they seemed dazed, clouded, and half asleep.

  “Stealing! What about what you have hidden in the stores? The furs. I saw the—” He stuffed a rag into my mouth, cutting off my cries.

  I tried to keep the anger from boiling over, but the weather had other ideas. As soon as they placed the slip knot around my wrists, the sea churned and the sky darkened. My anger caused the water to act up. But I waged an inner war within myself. I could, with a few words, destroy Fang and Thorn and let them feel my wrath, thus exposing I was a daughter of Eville and a woman. Which would lead to the discovery of the bounty on my head. They might then kill me and claim the money. I couldn’t find it in me to destroy everyone aboard the ship. What about Howland? My other option was to bite my tongue, accept the beating, and pray to the stars above that my ruse was not discovered.

  Fang handed the whip to Thorn. He gave it a cursory practice snap, and the crack was inches from my ear. The sound made my head ring, and I felt my knees go weak. I wouldn’t be able to do it. I couldn’t take the punishment like a man. I would fold and scream out at any minute.

  “Do it!” Fang ordered.

  Crack!

  My back arched, my mouth fell op
en in a silent scream, and pain racked through my body, paralyzing me. My back was on fire.

  “One!” Fang yelled.

  One. I wouldn’t survive. There was no way I could survive nine more lashings.

  I clenched my teeth and jaw, squeezed my eyes closed, and prayed. Prayed that I would black out by the second lashing then maybe I would survive the others without an ordeal. But my fear overcame me, and a silent tear trickled down my face. I swallowed, my mouth dry and lips chapped. Then I realized it wasn’t a tear but rain trickling across the deck, thus disguising my tears.

  “Thank you,” I whispered aloud and buried my face into the wooden mast.

  “Two!” Fang screamed. His enjoyment was clear in his evil laughter.

  Crack!

  “Mmmfff!” I bit my tongue and could feel the warm copper trickle of blood in my mouth and a second running down my back. My bindings. Anymore lashings and my chest bindings would be exposed for all to see.

  “What is goin’ on ‘ere?” I heard Howland’s voice but could not turn to look at him. “Fang, what in the hell are you doin’?”

  A verbal argument ensued, but it was like bees buzzing in my ears. The sea cast her displeasure by rocking the boat, sending a few running for the lines and others to the railing for support. I only hoped it knocked Thorn down. But I saw him out the corner of my eye.

  Thorn turned, the whip in his hand raised toward Howland.

  I tried to help him, tried to stop it, but I was powerless without my voice. He cracked the whip, and Howland fell backward. Thorn returned his attention to me. His arm pulled back for a third time, and I braced myself but could feel my knees give out as I gave in to the fiery pain and blacked out.

  Crack!

  Chapter Eleven

  The strike of a match and its light burned my eyes as I adjusted to the darkness that surrounded me. I was lying on my stomach on the wood floor, my back on fire with pain. I tried to push myself up. Searing agony raced across my back and I almost passed out again.

  “So, you’re awake,” a voice pierced the darkness.

  The match moved, and my eyes followed the light as it touched the wick of a lantern and lit. The speaker adjusted the knob, and it flared even brighter to reveal the bars that surrounded me. I was in the brig.

  “Who are you?” I asked, already knowing I didn’t recognize the strange person kneeling before me.

  I turned my head to take in the silvery-white-haired woman with the eyes so dark they looked like endless pools of nothing. Her hair was braided with seashells, her skin pale like moonlight, and her dress made of kelp and seaweed.

  The woman plucked a strand of seaweed from her dress and placed it against my injured and bloodied back, and I cried out—partially from pain and followed by a sigh of relief.

  “You know who I am?” she asked.

  “The sea witch,” I said.

  She frowned and shook her white hair. “I’ve never been partial to that name. You may call me Sirena.”

  “That’s not your true name, is it?”

  “Of course not. For you know very well names have power. Maybe the question you should ask is who are you? Hiding your true nature from these men. You shouldn’t hide from them.” Her hands made quick work. She plucked another strand of seaweed from near her leg, rubbed a poultice on it, and placed it on another red cut. I shivered as she continued to apply the poultice. With each strand she placed, my pain dissipated. I could feel the muscles in my back begin to reknit and heal.

  “I know who I am,” I answered, not pleased by the games she was playing.

  “Ah, yes. A daughter of Eville. The one whose name means ‘Of the sea.’ Do you know why you were given that name? Do you know anything about where you came from?”

  “I was adopted,” I said stiffly. “My father was a lowly fisherman; my mother was ailing and could no longer take care of me. They brought me to Lady Eville, and she took me in.”

  “Yes, yes, yes.” The woman rolled her eyes. “That is your after. But do you know your before?”

  “I don’t understand. Why are you talking in riddles?” I asked.

  “Maybe because I rarely get visitors, and when I do, I like to keep them awhile.” She smiled, revealing small, pointy teeth like a piranha. “Do you know I met another man with the same surname of Eville? Let’s see—what was his name? Lazlo? Lake? No, now I remember. Lachlan.”

  “No.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Lachlan was Mother Eville’s father.

  “Yes,” the woman purred and closed her eyes as if savoring the memory. “He made a deal with me long ago. But he couldn’t keep up his end of the bargain, and therefore I took it all.” She snapped her fingers. “First, his ships, and then his life.”

  The pain in my back subsided as I put the pieces together. Mother Eville was once engaged to a prince, but her father lost all his fortune when his ship sank at sea. Destitute and without a dowry, the prince broke off the engagement, and Lachlan died of a heart attack shortly after.

  With a painful grunt, I pushed myself up to a sitting position.

  “Was that you?” I accused. “Did you cause the misfortune to befall my family?”

  “Which family, dear? You must be more specific.” Her knowing grin was annoying me. She was baiting me with information, and I knew better than to fall in her trap.

  “What did he want?”

  The woman leaned back, running her hands through her hair seductively. “The same thing every man wants, dear girl. The same thing these men who invaded my island want.” She stood up; the seaweed draped elegantly down her body. On each of her fingers was a glittering ring that glimmered. She picked up a conch shell, placed it to her lips, and blew. Nothing came forth, and I blinked, waiting to hear something, but I was deaf to whatever magic she displayed.

  She stepped to the side of the cell, leaving behind watery footprints in her wake. The same watery prints I had seen in my room the night before. She stopped at the bars and looked over her shoulder at me. “If you want to save them, you need to find me.”

  “What do you mean save them?”

  “I have them. Their hearts belong to me now.”

  She turned, beckoned with a black-painted finger, and I felt the black magic spill forth as I shivered.

  “Come to me, daughter of the sea,” she whispered. “Come save your measly humans. For where they are, they won’t last long.” She walked backward through the cell bars, and as she did, she dissolved into a wave of water that splashed down and soaked the floor.

  The water turned black and pooled around the bars, and I stared at the footprints she left around my cell. There were no doubts in my mind about the woman who mysteriously disappeared before me. Nor her underlying threat.

  She had Brennon, Vasili, and the others, and she made it very clear that I would have to save them.

  My hands trembled as I reached around to grasp the iron bars, closed my eyes, and reached for the magic. Magic I had been terrified to use. During my initial testing as a child, Lorn said my powers were that of a muse. For my voice controlled water and sometimes air because of the condensation within it. Any other magic, I had to lean onto Mother Eville’s lessons, but they weren’t my strength, and I failed more than I succeeded.

  I needed to draw a sigil. I saw the glittery reflection of the sea witch’s puddle. I dipped my finger into the trace of water leftover, easily drew the symbol on the floor, and pictured the spell in the air.

  “Incendium.”

  The iron door exploded outward, bending the hinges and frame. I waited for someone to come running toward me with swords drawn, but all was silent. I limped out of the brig past the empty galley. Food still littered the table, knives and biscuits left out. Howland never left the galley messy. I quickened my steps to pass through the berth and listened for the chorus of snores and whistles that always punctuated the night. But every hammock I passed was empty. Not a single soul was asleep, even though I imagined it to be the middle of the night.
/>
  I gasped and made my way to the upper deck, and the ship seemed deserted. My only clue to what transpired was the silvery trails of footprints illuminated by the moonlight that ran across the deck.

  A sail had come unfurled and flapped in the night air. One of the lower ropes was tangled around something large, and it kept making a thudding noise. I followed the sound to the fore course sail, walked around the mast, and gasped.

  Jessup hung upside down, his foot caught in the sail's rope as he swung slightly, his body slapping against the sail. There was no mistaking the water that pooled by his fingertips. His sword was on the deck just out of reach, and I could see water coated it. He must have fought against the witch’s magic and paid the price with his life.

  I clapped my hand over my mouth and ran to the railing. Great sobs racked my body as I cried out in anguish. When the tears slowly passed, I heard a raspy breath and looked out at the head of the boat. Howland stood on the forecastle deck. He was using his entire body to turn the capstan to bring the anchor up. His face ruddy, his chest heaving, he cried out in pain.

  “Howland!” I cried, running to him. “Stop. You mustn’t. You’ll injure yourself.”

  “We must leave this cursed place!” he cried out, his hands bloody, and so were the handles of the capstan.

  “You can’t do it alone. It’s made for six people.”

  “If I don’t, we will all die. Ye didn’t see them. An army of watery bein’s with colorful hair, all of them climbin’ aboard and lurin’ the men into the water. One after another, they jumped overboard. Ye didn’t hear their cries. Poor Jessup tried fight them to no use. But he… he….”

  “We need to leave!” Howland pushed on the capstan, his boots slipping along the deck, unable to find purchase.

  “No, Howland.” I grasped his bloody hands between mine and forced him to look at me. “We need the crew to sail the ship. We can’t survive on the open sea alone. We have to go find them.”

  He shook his head and looked at the island in fear. “Impossible. No man can survive the lure of the sea witch's power.”