“For your sake, I hope we don’t. The siren queen is a truly menacing creature, no more than a sea monster feverishly on the lookout for human prey. She’d kill you before you could utter who you are, and even if you did manage to get the words out, I doubt it would make a difference.
“They’re not like us, Alosa. You’ve seen all too well what happens when your siren nature takes over you. Imagine creatures that have only one side. That side.”
My blood runs cold. I had so hoped to meet my mother just once, but maybe there are some memories I don’t want to make.
“I suggest,” Kalligan continues, “you be prepared to kill every siren you meet.”
* * *
Father calls together a meeting for all the ship captains present at the keep. Over half of them are running jobs throughout Maneria, and he’s dispatched yano birds to order their immediate return. Since he knew I was due to arrive any day, he didn’t bother to spare a bird to fix poor Praxer’s mistake. And honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if Father chose to put on a show of fury and violence just to remind everyone what happens to those who disappoint him.
We set sail in one month for the Isla de Canta, with or without the rest of the fleet. Those captains who don’t make it in time will not share in our spoils. I’m certain everyone will make haste.
My belly is full. I’ve washed and changed. Red hair spills over my shoulders, brushing against an emerald corset. I like to look my best when surrounded by the most important men in the keep, to remind them I’m their princess and will be their queen one day. And I need the extra confidence boost, given all the uncertainty crowding my insides of late.
My eyes are a deep blue. I replenished my abilities again after questioning Vordan on my ship. Though most wouldn’t dare to try anything with me or my crew at the risk of upsetting their king, it’s foolish to go into territory where I’m surrounded by the most bloodthirsty men in the world and not come fully prepared.
“Shut your mouth, Timoth, or I’ll shove my cutlass through it.” Father usually calls the meeting to attention with a threat. Though nearly everyone had been talking, singling out one man is enough to quiet the entire room. Especially after Father’s display of power yesterday.
I try desperately to ignore the space Tylon occupies. I’m still mad as hell over his ambush yesterday. Arrogant piss pot. As if I’d ever want to associate with him. Tylon is only a few years older than I, and Father adores him (as much as a ruthless pirate can adore anything) because he obeys orders immediately and without question. He’s always quick to rat out other pirates at the keep for misconduct, which makes him unpopular with everyone else, but a star in my father’s eyes. His biggest flaw, however, is in assuming I will align myself with him. He seems to think I will want to share my birthright with him when Father steps down. That by entangling himself with me, he will become the next pirate king. I’ll dagger him in his sleep before that happens. I will become the pirate queen when Father retires, and I will not be sharing power.
“The moment we’ve all been waiting for is finally here,” my father says. He’s a large figure at the head of a massive oak table. He stands while the rest of us sit, lest we forget who’s in charge. As if he needs to. His sheer size is enough to leave anyone without a doubt as to his status. He keeps his hair and beard short always. Something about not letting it obstruct his line of vision. He once tried to cut my hair to make me a better pirate. I told him where he could stick his scissors, and he jabbed them into my leg instead.
My father certainly has raised me with unconventional methods; sometimes a molten rage surges up when I remember the past. But then I remember the here and now. No one can best me with a blade, save perhaps my father. No one can outdistance me. No one can outlast my stamina. Other pirates fear me. I am proud of all these facts. It is only because of my father that I have achieved them. On top of the skills he gave me are all the good memories I have of him. When he gave me my first sword. The time he stroked my hair and told me I looked like my mother. The jokes and laughter we share when we manage private moments together. These memories are spread out with lots of misery in between, but everyone both loves and resents their parents, don’t they?
You may try to rationalize it, Alosa. He’s your father. He’s only ever tried to make you strong. To make you a survivor. But do those sound like your own thoughts in your head? Or his thoughts bringing you back to him yet again?
I’m not rationalizing. I’m stating facts. Cold. Hard. Facts.
I am under no one’s control.
“Vordan’s map was the last of the three fragments, the final piece that leads us the rest of the way to the Isla de Canta,” Father says, bringing me out of my thoughts. “I’ve had years to examine the first map, the map that came from my own father and his father before him. It has traveled the Kalligan line for centuries, and we have kept it in pristine condition.
“The second map piece was brought to us by Captain Alosa Kalligan. Jeskor’s sons had it hidden on their ship, though they were too stupid to realize it.
“The third has come to us today, once again procured by Captain Alosa.”
The eyes in the room swivel to me. Many with jealousy—they wish to be so favored by the king.
“We will set sail in thirty days,” Father continues. “We will reach the Isla de Canta, and its treasure will be ours.”
“Rah!” cheer the pirates in the room.
“Captains, what is the status of your ships?”
“I’ve nigh twenty barrels of gunpowder on the Black Rage,” Captain Rasell says. “Fifty men await my instructions.”
Tylon goes next, and I do my best not to frown. “I have five harpoon guns attached to Death’s Secret and over a hundred individual harpoons that can be thrown from rowboats.”
“We’ll skewer the beasts!” Captain Adderan proclaims, and the room goes wild with excitement. For the first time, the thought of traveling to the island makes me sick.
He found something on that island where he met your mother. A weapon. A device that protects him from the sirens. A device that lets him control them.
It goes on like this as twenty pirate captains list their most valuable collections for the trip. The other thirty or so captains are all rushing to the keep to make it in time for the voyage, and some of them will end up staying behind anyway to defend our stronghold while the rest of us sail for treasure.
“Captain Alosa,” my father says expectantly.
I swallow my uneasiness and push the image of sirens being harpooned like whales from my mind, vowing that nothing will keep me from traveling to the island. This is too important. And Father has already had to remind me recently that they’re inhuman beasts. I know this. I’ve experienced for myself what happens when I’m submerged underwater.
“I have a crew consisting of twenty-eight women,” I say simply.
Adderan snorts. “Women. Good. The men will have company during the voyage.” A few others in the room dare to snicker at the comment.
The men may recognize my talents and purpose, even if they don’t like them. But other female pirates receive no such esteem.
Father doesn’t defend my crew. Nor would I want him to. I can do it all on my own.
The pirate captains and the dungeon master are the only ones who know about my abilities at the keep, so I don’t have to hide them in this room.
I sing a booming note, something that won’t go unnoticed by anyone in the vicinity. Adderan rises from his chair and runs face first into the nearest wall. The contact splits open a thin line on his head, but it doesn’t render him unconscious. I want him fully awake when I humiliate him.
“While the sirens enchant you all to take your own lives,” I say, “my talented female crew will be unaffected. We will be the ones who actually reach the treasure and make the journey back home.”
The room goes silent. Kalligan’s men need to remember these are no ordinary women defending the Isla de Canta.
“Very impre
ssive, Captain Alosa,” Tylon says, and I jerk my head in his direction, “but there is a simple remedy to such a problem. I believe you experienced this one while you were Vordan’s prisoner.”
He pulls something from his pocket, breaks it in two, and molds it into his ears. Wax.
I turn to the man on Tylon’s right. “Captain Lormos, kindly prove a point for me and smack Tylon up the side of the head.”
Tylon must assume my moving mouth is expelling enchanting notes. He grins condescendingly at his invincibility. But then Lormos, who is especially prone to violence, says, “Gladly,” and carries out my request. No singing required.
Tylon grunts and turns to his right, cocking his fist back in retaliation. My father holds out his hands, a simple motion commanding all to stay their violence. Tylon grudgingly complies and pulls the wax from his ears.
“Song is not the only thing you have to worry about,” I say. “You will also be unable to communicate with one another, and the sirens can easily get the drop on you then.”
“We can have men looking in all directions. Everyone’s backs will be covered,” Tylon says defensively.
I laugh without humor. “You’re being naive. That will cost you lives.” If we’re lucky, his.
“My men will be fine. Don’t presume to captain any crew other than your own.”
“Don’t belittle my crew by insinuating we’re only good for breeding!”
“That was Adderan! You’re—”
“That’s enough.” The pirate king’s voice cuts across the room. Powerful. Final. I take my eyes from Tylon’s enraged face and note that all the captains in the room are staring between the two of us.
“Just get it over with and bed the lass!” Captain Sordil shouts from the back of the room. I slice him in half with my glare. Before I can do more than that, Father continues, commanding everyone’s attention once more.
“Captain Alosa has more than made her point,” he says, “which is why she and the Ava-lee will sail second only to the Dragon’s Skull on the voyage to the Isla de Canta.”
Second?
Because my father’s ship will carry a secret weapon that will control the sirens? Or because he needs to keep his place at the head of his fleet?
Silence hits the room at the pronouncement. Then Adderan speaks up. “Are we sure that’s wise? Surely the Deadman’s Blade would be a better choice to have at your back?” His own ship. “It’s larger and more—”
“Are you questioning my decision?” Father asks, his voice like a whip.
Adderan immediately recants his words. “Wise choice, sire. The Ava-lee should go second.”
Kalligan nods. “Good. You can take the rear, Adderan.” I grin smugly at Adderan as Father launches into the rest of the details of the voyage, then concludes the meeting. “Alosa, Tylon, stay.”
The captains file out of the room, smiling and clapping one another on the backs. It’s finally happening. We’ve waited years to set sail for the unimaginable treasures waiting at the Isla de Canta. Now we can actually count the days.
“This voyage will go smoothly,” Kalligan says when the last man has left and the door falls back into place, “and I will not have some petty adolescent disagreement get in the way of that. Is that understood?”
“Of course,” Tylon says immediately, ever the willing-to-please pawn.
“There is no disagreement,” I say. It’s more of a blatant abhorrence.
“Whatever it is, it stops now. There will be no more belittling the other captains during meetings, Alosa. And Tylon, you would do well to listen to the wisdom Captain Alosa has to offer.”
Tylon nods. I snort and roll my eyes at the whole scene. Tylon’s puppylike obedience is enough to—
Father flies at me, quick as a bolt of lightning. I don’t move, knowing whatever comes will be better if I don’t resist.
In a flash, I’m backed against the wall. A dagger soars toward me, embedding itself in the wood just to the right of my eye.
“You will not be disrespectful in my presence,” Kalligan says. “Else this dagger will move an inch to the left. You don’t need both eyes for your voice to work.”
I stare into those large, fierce eyes. I’ve no doubt he means it. And before he tries to do more than scare me, I have to comply.
“Apologies,” I say.
See, I defy him all the time. I don’t apologize because he controls me. I do it because … because … I can’t finish the thought.
Am I only useful to him so long as I have a voice? Were I mute, would he still love me, still want me to captain a ship in his fleet?
He leaves the dagger in place and exits the room. When I pull away, strands of hair tug from my head, trapped by the dagger, and hang limply against the wall.
Chapter 5
THE DUNGEONS ARE LOCATED deep below the earth. They wind and twist as though formed from the pathway of a monstrous worm. The smell of mold clogs my nostrils, and the dank moisture in the air presses uncomfortably against my skin. Some of the tunnels slide right down into the sea and allow in water. With the tides, some of the cells fill to the brim. An added benefit when it comes to making prisoners talk.
Threck is the keeper of the dungeons. He’s a gaunt fellow who perpetually looks like he’s climbed his way out of a land dweller’s grave. Dirt paints his clothes and skin, and he lets his hair hang about him in matted snarls. But the fact that he’s absolutely terrified of me makes him amusing nonetheless.
Right now, however, there is very little that I find amusing.
I pound on the entrance to the dungeons, a large wooden door with a barred window.
“Threck!” I call out. “The king’s sent me to question the new prisoner.”
A lie.
I sent myself.
The dungeons are massive, but my shout carries in a much-too-loud echo from one tunnel to the next. After the sound dies down, silence is the only thing that bounces back up to me for several moments, and I wonder if he will pretend he didn’t hear me. But he’s too smart for that. The last thing you want to do is irritate someone who frightens you.
A slow shuffling sound makes its way toward me, growing louder and louder until I can tell the footsteps are just on the other side of the door. The barred window allows me to see to the other side, but Threck must be ducking because I can’t see his head.
A key slides under the door, and footsteps retreat in a hurry.
It’s difficult to say whether I’m more proud or offended by his reaction to me.
I grab a torch from its sconce on the wall and light it. There is a darkness unlike any other in the keep’s dungeon. No natural light can squeeze its way so far below ground. It sucks all the hope from the prisoners trapped in here. I should know—I’ve been one many times.
Threck doesn’t seem to mind it, however. He knows the dungeons so well he traverses them without any light at all.
I slide past row upon row of empty cells. They’re never occupied for long. When I reach one of the few cells in use, I pause.
“Draxen.”
Jeskor’s elder son doesn’t move at the sound of his own name. He sits on the stone floor and stares at the wall opposite the cell’s entrance. Like his brother, Draxen has changed some. Only his changes are for the worse. His black hair hangs past his shoulders in ratted curls. His shirt is too big for him. It hangs off his bony shoulders and pools on the floor behind him. That’ll be from the prisoner diet of cold gruel. But sometimes, if you’re lucky, a rat will wander into your cell.
“Princess,” he says and spits off into the corner. I can see now he has a rock in his hand that he’s throwing up in the air and catching. You’ve got to pass the time somehow. I would button and unbutton my coat. When my hands weren’t shackled above my head, that is.
“Nice weather we’re having,” I say as I shiver from the cold. How can Draxen stand not to have his coat on? It looks like he’s using it as a cushion under his rump.
“What do you want?” he asks
.
“Nothing from you. I’m just passing through.”
“Then get on with it.”
“I didn’t realize you were busy.”
He turns at the snide remark and chucks the rock at me. I dodge it as best I can in the darkness, but it still skims the side of my arm.
“Stings, that does, you bastard,” I say.
“To hell with you and your sorcery.”
“Sorcery?”
“You did something to me. And to Riden. You’ve bewitched him somehow. And you nearly killed him. So whether you call it sorcery or not, you can go hang by a rope from the tallest tree.”
I laugh. It’s not a mockery, but a sincere response to his foolishness. “You’re furious with me? You do remember you kidnapped me? You forced me to witness the most disgusting tortures I’ve ever seen. You tried to force yourself on me, and your men tried to kill me. All I did was steal a map.”
Despite his foul attitude, I dig into my pocket and throw something at him. I make sure it hits him in the back of the head before continuing on.
I hear his hands scramble furiously in the darkness to retrieve what I threw. Then the sound of his chewing is so loud, I hear it for the next twenty feet.
Fresh bread from the kitchens. I don’t know what prompted me to bring it for him, but I did.
Now, for the reason I’m really here.
Vordan’s cell is tucked into a nasty corner where the tide comes in. Water reaches his ankles. He must be freezing.
Good.
I hate him. I hate that I’m here.
“Alosa,” he says when he notices me. Just the tone makes me cringe. The satisfied, self-assured way he manages to say it even when locked behind bars.
“Tell me more,” I whisper, even though I know we’re alone.
“What? I didn’t catch that?”
“Tell. Me. More.”
“About what?” he asks, toying with me.
I snap. My voice rushes out like a thunderclap. I burry him under a mountain of snow, let him feel a cold so piercing he’ll forget there was ever anything else to feel. I push him from the tallest cliff, let him fall and fall, hurtling down at an impossible speed, knowing he’s about to die and there’s no way to stop it. I thrust him back into his cell, make the walls rattle as the volcano nearby explodes and blistering heat drowns him. On and on, I throw terror after terror at him.
Daughter of the Siren Queen Page 6