Poking his brother in the shoulder he shouts, “Dan! Dante! Open your eyes! Shiver me timbers but that was some kinda hag!” He turns and looks over his shoulder with a shudder and prances forward swatting at his back and neck as if he is covered in spider webs.
Dante untwines his hands from his ears and relaxes his eyes. His eyelashes flick as he turns to Jamie who is opening and closing his mouth like a fish, his eyes wide. Dante steps away from him and grabs his brother in an embrace. Jamie looks them over and shakes his head, his face finally settling. He stumbles over to the camp and starts digging a hole in the sand.
What the hell happened out there? Was Jamie going to be okay? I grab hold of my hands massaging the skin of my knuckles between my fingers. “What happened?”
“There was a veiled woman and when James saw her he called her a scurvy dog...” Colin murmurs.
“Aye she didn’t like that one bit” Dante adds with a shake of his head. His hands tremble as he grabs the muddy bottle Jamie is just tugging free from the hole.
“And her hair? Was it Medusa?”
Colin looks intently at the ashen sand beneath his boots with no response.
My stomach pulses as if I'd just consumed venom. “What happened?” I whisper.
Jamie who's been staring with his fish lips at Dante finally mutters, “James...” His face and hands are covered in the wet sand as he presses them together.
My limbs go cold. “Oh no... oh no...What are we going to do? Was it her eyes? How did you get away? Where’s the Captain and the others?” I ramble in a panic.
Dante grabs my shoulders and shakes me until I am quiet. “I think it’s best we weigh anchor and get out of here.”
Weigh anchor, it's a fairly recent term I’d learnt and, in this context, it means they want to desert the remaining crew. My panic intensifies and quickly morphs into a white-hot rage.
I shove Dante away from me. I push him to the ground, my arms suddenly pounding with the strength I’ve never felt before. My heels dig into the sand, burning and tingling as if the energy closeted beneath the earth’s surface is flowing into me. It isn’t sore but the feeling is uncomfortable as if I am being squeezed by a giant fist. My toes coil inwards as the feeling engulfs my entire body before exiting out of my fingertips and ears as fast as it had come.
“We will do no such thing! Never leave a man behind! Especially your Captain!” I yell.
One of my hand's presses into the sand beside Dante, the other wraps around his wrist. I jump back in shock.
“Ye poxy wench!” Dante roars clutching his left arm with his right one, his face furious. “Ye dam well broke my arm!”
Colin lopes to his brother’s side and gawks at me in horror.
“How?” He asks.
I don’t know. I wish I knew. What the hell had just happened to me? “I...I, I don’t...” I stutter.
Jamie stands up from his seat beside his secret booze hole and moves between us. He wavers slightly, grabbing hold of my shoulder to right himself, and then as if he has only just joined the conversation he says, “We heard singing, really nice singing and they started following her voice as if hypnotized. I tried to get them to turn around but they ignored me. So, I followed them until they reached the statue of a man and they were all these feathers floating down around us.”
I nod for him to go on, my body tense as I watch Dante and Colin from the corner of my eye.
“The woman was pretty...”
Colin scoffs and I try not to scowl at him since I am certain I'd sprained, if not fractured, his brother’s arm.
“She wasn’t pretty, she was beautiful and her singing wasn’t just nice, it was...mesmerizing.”
I turn my gaze from Colin back to Jamie who is searching the sand for the bottle Dante had held before I’d knocked him to the ground.
He finds it tipped over with the liquid poured out. Picking the bottle up he holds it towards the horizon and appraises the glass before tilting it back to pour the remainder in his mouth. When the bottle is empty, he tips it over, balancing it between his thumb and forefinger where it swings lazily.
My attention drifts back to Colin who is clasping Dante’s forearm as his face contorted in pain. Guilt coils itself around my heart and with an aching lump in my throat, I focus on Jamie who is speaking again.
“Then there were all these feathers dropping down around us again, and she was gone. In her place was this Aphasian woman with braided hair. Without the singing the others were confused, they started shouting and waving their weapons. James yelled that she was wearing a veil and rushed at her and then...” His voice cracks.
“He turned to stone?” My voice is softer than a whisper and I'm not even sure he'd heard me, but he continues almost immediately.
“It was worse than that. It was as if he were boiling from the inside and then his blood hardened. His veins expanding till they looked as if they were about to burst and then it was like he was encased in this chalk-like stone. Do you... You don’t think he’s still alive, do you?”
For the first time since I'd met him, Jamie was cheerless. I sniffle, realizing that I am tearing up for James. He's the last person I thought I would ever cry for but the idea that he isn’t going to sprout some masochistic bullshit in my direction again leaves me feeling sick. Then there is the way he'd gone... I don’t know what to say, what if he is still alive and slowly suffocating? I swallow twice, trying to rid my throat of the lump. “No, if his blood froze like you say it did, I think he died...” I lift my hand and wipe my eyes with my fingertips. “And the rest of them? How did you get away?”
“We ran. We covered our ears and ran until we got here. Either she was preoccupied with the others or she isn’t very fast. She seems to use the bird woman to lure men. I’m ashamed that we left the Captain behind, but at that point, we were all so horrified. I wasn’t thinking clearly.” He hangs his head mortified.
I turn searching for Gus who's been abnormally silent throughout our discussion. He's perched with his musket aimed at the forest seemingly oblivious to anything else around him. I decide not to bother him.
I bite down on my lower lip. I need to address the brothers and I don’t know how to do it. Colin had created a makeshift splint from a dirty yellow shirt and a thick braided rope.
“You guys should go. I’ll do my best to find them. In the meantime, whatever you do don’t leave. If they come back without me do not come looking for me. If I’m not back in...” I search for a reasonable amount of time. What if I'm captured? I could be stuck on this island for months like Odysseus. I can’t ask them to wait for me. “A few days then leave. I won’t be offended.”
The brothers ignore me, but Jamie replies forlornly, “Kill her for us would you.”
I'm not sure if he means the bird woman or the one with the braids, but either way, I guess I'm going to have to kill someone. I gulp, doing my best to nod my agreement even though I have no idea if I can do it.
They make to leave. I can’t just let the brothers go without trying to convey how sorry I am for whatever the hell had come over me. I pat Colin on the shoulder. He jumps back and I pull my hand away as if it is something dirty.
“I’m sorry... I don’t know what happened.” I peer over Colin’s shoulder to see if Dante hears me but he is looking down at the ground.
Colin sighs. “You should speak to Caiseal about it. Maybe you have magic in you after all?”
If it was at all appropriate, I would have scoffed, but it isn’t so I keep my mouth shut. Tell the guy who is adamant that I am some useless non-magical human that I might actually not be. Yeah, that is going to be a treat, and besides, I don’t think it was magic. I’d been working out; perhaps in my anger, I'd forgotten my own strength.
Colin watches my expression and pushes his brother on whispering before he follows him, “Make sure James is dead will ye?”
He doesn’t wait for a reply. I watch them grab a rowing boat, Jamie and Colin holding oars on opposite sides with
Dante seated in the middle. Then I remember Jerome. I am about to shout that they should look for him but stop. They will find him. I have more important things to worry about now.
Folding my arms to my chest I approach Gus. “Alright Gus, you have to stay here and make sure nothing happens to those men and to inform the Captain when he comes out where I am. Unless I return with him.” I start pulling on my boots.
Gus pulls his face away from his musket looking affronted. “I can’t do that lass, I’m under oath ta protect ye...”
“Gus, please! You have to stay here. I’m the only one who can fight her. You guys have trained me. I’m ready, just let me go.”
His brow puckers, his chin tilting down and freezing. His jaw is stiff for a moment and then he lets out a rush of breath, his face relaxing. “I can’t disobey the Captain lass,” he says sadly. “I wish I could but I just can’t.”
I can’t help but scowl. It looks like the Captain’s orders bind the men. No wonder they always do what he says whether they want to or not. I grab my boots and socks and put them on placing my dagger back inside them and checking my sword and pistol are both secure around my waist. I guess I'm buying time since I know I am prepared as I can be, I just don’t want to do what comes next.
“Okay. I understand and I’m sorry.”
I grab his musket and bash it down on his head grimacing.
“I’m so, so, so sorry!” I cry dropping the gun.
Gus looks as if he is sleeping but I know that he will wake with an awful headache and a bump on his head.
I need to do it. I tell myself firmly. I’m the only one who can save them.
Bending down I position him comfortably so he is slightly hidden if the Gorgon or her siren friend come.
And then I push past the thicket and into the jungle...
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I plunge into a knot of vines. Pressing and pulling until I am free, bits of leaves stick in my hair and clothes and with them comes an iridescent slime that smells of bug spray.
It isn’t much easier after that. I have to pull my sword from its halter and slice my way through the foliage. I fling the blade out, whacking right and left with no clear intention, deeper and deeper into the tropical woodland until finally, I'm beckoned forwards by a thick stream of light.
I tear my way into a small glade and double over wheezing. Massaging the ache in my biceps, I breathe in a sickly-sweet scent similar to coconut and lilies and straighten up.
The area around me is an oasis compared to the never-ending white sand and vivid plant life I'd ventured from. I make to move forward, placing my weapon back in its hold, and freeze.
There is a figure in the distance, shrouded by a mist that looks as if it's been created by dry ice. Cautiously I edge forward, my hand on the hilt of my sword.
The haze lifts as I creep closer allowing me to see that the figure is of a man. I tighten my grip on my sword, ready to fight if I have to. I want to call out and see if he answers, but at the same time, I know from about every horror movie in history that that would be the worst thing I can do. Better I do my best not to alert him to my presence, that way I can scope out the situation and plan what my next move is from there.
He is very still. Inhumanly still. It has the hairs on my arms rising. His skin is creamy white with patches of darkness spreading from his head down. My brow crinkles and I drop my hand from my blade.
He's marble.
I increase my pace, no longer needing to be silent and guarded. He's dressed in a vintage fashion. It looks to me as if it were once a navy uniform, but the stone has withered with time so I can’t be sure. The dark patches I'd seen from afar are actually moss. Bright blue moss... I edge closer, investigating the statue, and then I step back, folding my arms across my chest.
I’m sure you can get variations of moss all over the world but it is blue moss, something new to me. It alerts me to lessons I'd learnt at school about bright bugs and flowers that are colourful as a warning to predators. It is a symbol that they are poisonous. For that reason, I am going to keep my distance.
I gaze up at the man’s face. He is stuck perpetually in a standing position, his hand reaching out, his gaze longing.
It gives me the shivers. He is far too realistic. I stretch out my fingers and graze the smooth stone with my fingertips. It is baby soft, like skin, and seemingly etched into the marble are blue and purple veins. I bring my hand back rubbing my fingertips on my jeans with a creeping sensation trembling down my spine. This man had been alive once, and I don’t mean that someone had taken the time to sculpt him.
My heart grows frantic.
So, it's true...
What if the crew is right to fear James still being alive?
What if he’s been turned to stone for all eternity?
It isn’t logical for them to still live as stone, they will die as they change, wouldn’t they?
Yes, it would be one of the worst ways for someone to die, but I have to believe that the man I am standing next to is just a statue and he'd died as he changed. Anything else would be too awful to imagine happening. The fact that he'd been turned to stone is already disturbing enough, and if James has suffered the same fate, I will avenge him. I turn my back to the statue glancing toward where he is reaching, just in case whoever he is reaching for is still there too. The glade remains empty.
“Paranoid much?” I ask myself out loud.
Wrapping my arms around my upper body I close my eyes, shuddering at the thought of continuing my trek through the creepy woodland.
“Come on Cris, buck up! You have to fight; you have to be brave otherwise all of your training has been for nothing. You can’t stand around and let your friends be turned to granite, now can you?” I reprimand myself shrilly.
My lashes flick up as I drop my arms. Pushing my shoulders back I wrap my fingers around the hilt of my sword and plunge back into the jungle.
I don’t go far. In front of me is a wall of vines covered in a kaleidoscope of unmoving butterflies with patterns similar to eyes on their wings. They are the size of my fist and make everything that much creepier.
The colling air now smells dank rather than sweet. The light has dimmed and the ever-present sand is thinning. Every follicle of hair on my body stands on end leaving my throat congested with apprehension.
I gulp lifting my index finger to move the thicket of vines. The butterflies take flight, fluttering around me like bats, their symphony of wings creating a terrible clapping sound.
I bring my arms up to shelter my head and crunch down until the air is still. Standing I stumble through the vines into another clearing. It is in the shape of an imperfect circle and compared to the rest of the jungle looks as if all the colour, not to mention life, has been syphoned out of it.
The plant life that still lives is brown and dull, the ground covered in slick russet brown mud, and in its heart is another sculpture of a kneeling man clutching a sword.
There is a murmur of wings from behind me, softer than the butterflies.
I twist to face the noise, scared that it might be the swarm coming back for me. I’ve never heard of carnivorous butterflies but considering that I’d just stumbled on another man who is made of stone anything is possible.
My heart beats loudly in my chest. There is nothing there. A low hum comes from my right side. I jump, gasping as I turn.
A voluptuous woman balances on the man’s bent knee, her hands leaning against his head. My mouth drops open as I gawk at her.
She is exactly the kind of woman that has inspired the imagery of angels. Her skin is ashen much like the statue she stands on. Her wavy platinum hair hangs down to her knees, shimmering in the spotlight that illuminates the statue. She wears a long pale dress with an equally long train. She is more than stunning. There is no word in the English language that describes her beauty.
I continue to gaze at her, awed before I realize she is a siren, her singing, even though it doesn’t have the full effec
t on me, is still eerily beautiful. “Stop" I command my head buzzing from her purr.
She grins, her hum morphing into an eerily beautiful song as she steps nimbly from the statue towards me. She croons until her song is done and greets me with a hypnotically melodic voice that rings softly throughout the clearing. “How kind of you to visit! Good day to you.”
"Ah...Good day to you too, siren," I reply, a bit puzzled at her civil greeting. I’d assumed we were enemies.
“That is what I am, but not who I am young human." She carries a gentle smile as she turns her attention to the statue, tracing the man’s jaw with two fingers.
“Right, so we’re going to start off on a first name basis then?" I ask.
“It is only etiquette is it not?" She enquires with a murmur.
“Etiquette? You lured my friends in here to be turned to stone!"
She shrugs. “That is my requirement. It is best not to take it to heart. I do not. Your name?”
My mouth drops open, and I reply in a daze. "Cris and you are?"
“They call me by many names..." She trills gazing up into the statue's eyes.
I shut my mouth, knotting my arms across my torso. “Can you hurry up and just give me one then?"
She tilts her head in my direction. “Patience, I hear, is a virtue, my dear.” She sits down on the statue's knee and crosses her legs. “Auristella pleased to meet you, Cris.”
My brows lift in condemnation. “Pretty name. Now that we’ve had our introductions can I please have my friends back?”
She chuckles. Her top leg bouncing, her feet still covered by the train of her dress. "That would be quite a feat, my dear. You cannot take what they believe to be theirs. Believe you me, I know...”
She stares into the man’s eyes once again and sighs prettily. “I’d have to kill you if you tried. You must understand my dear if I do not, they will, and well, you know... It is what is required of me.”
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