Skulls & Crossbones

by Andi Marquette

  "Why?" Talia looked at her and laughed. "Why do you think?"

  The Necklace of Harmonia. I pondered as I lay staring at the polished wooden ceiling. I understood the allure of that. Cursed or not, it was a prize worth chasing. Forged by Hephaestus himself, this golden necklace was said to be in the shape of an amphisbaena, the jaws of its two heads clasping a golden eagle whose outstretched wings were covered in jasper, rubies, and pearly moonstone. The scales of the serpent shone with sapphires, and it was claimed that whoever wore it stayed forever young and beautiful.

  Our first port of call was the island harbour of Illyria, a rather seedy town that lived on its past glories and its present ramshackle collection of bars and brothels. Aurora and Myrrha went ashore to replenish our supplies. The rest of us stayed aboard and played pinochle.

  Talia found me there losing. "Andra. You're coming with us tonight." I looked up, surprised.

  "You can still pass as a boy, especially with a cap pulled over your hair. Young enough to sneak around listening to conversations."

  Sereia shifted beside me. "Better you than me," she whispered.

  A spy rather than bait. At least I'd get to go ashore. I went off and prepared myself. From cabin girl to cabin boy.

  The night was cloudy and chill, and the bars weren't as crowded as I had expected. Talia and Melusinia swaggered in as a couple, ordered drinks, and made themselves conspicuous, which wasn't hard when you stand over six feet tall and your black hair flows down to your waist, adorned with gleaming daggers. Most men were terrified of the sisters. Other pirates always treated us with distant respect, because it wasn't good to get on our bad sides, especially at sea. I hung around the back alley, listening. I had good ears, but nothing much of interest happened. Not until we reached Scorpio's Taverna, and, in truth, we actually didn't enter it since a brawl spilled out the doors. At least ten men, if that's what you could call them. They looked like rodents to me, with their knotted hair, thin pointed faces, and ragged clothes. A tangle of legs and fists and flashing knives. And the smells. Stale beer, unwashed bodies, and an underlying essence of mouldy cheese. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. It was then we heard his whisper.

  "What are three nice girls like you doing in a place like this?"

  I felt Talia flinch and Melusinia slipped her favourite stiletto into her palm.

  "Avoiding men like you," Talia replied, only a slip of emotion in her voice. His laugh curled around my neck like a warm scarf.

  "Ladies, perhaps we should take ourselves to a more intimate place," he suggested. "There's a new tavern just around the corner."

  We followed, because there wasn't much choice. The brawl had gathered momentum and was filling the narrow street with festive abandon. This establishment, where he suggested, was shoved against the harbour wall, a few chairs and tables huddled around a large olive tree, and from the inside the fragrant scent of patchouli and sandalwood intermingled with baking bread. A woman with a jaunty swing to her hips and a big toothy smile served us a jug of warmed mulled wine, which smelled of herbs and honey. I guessed what sort of place this was by the wink she gave the two men.

  Talia stared at her ex with disdain, though, technically, I don't think they had ever legally separated, so he probably was still her husband.

  "Melusinia. Always a pleasure." He grinned and then turned to me. "You

  must be the youngest one. You were still a child when I last saw you." He playfully pulled my cap off , and my hair tumbled out. "Andromeda, I presume." He picked up my hand and pressed his lips against the skin. Talia slapped his arm away. "Touch her again and I'll have that hand as a souvenir."

  "It will go well with my heart in your little collection." Orpheus laughed. It was his laugh I most remembered from his very brief sojourn with us. It was as though the sun had come to earth and turned itself into a sound, all heat and light, radiant and golden, and it lit up all the dark places and made them glow. It was doing that now.

  Melusinia scowled and began filing her nails with her stiletto. The other man shifted in his seat. He was younger than Orpheus, maybe just a year older than me. He had dark curly hair, and when he looked at me, his eyes glowed like the sky at noon. Blue as blue could be.

  "This is my cousin, Perseus." Orpheus looked at me and winked. "Why do our parents burden us with these names?"

  Talia stood up. "Time for us to go. As much as I have enjoyed this unexpected reunion, we must depart."

  He pulled her back down, and Melusinia's dagger flashed like a star falling, a warning, Talia shook her head, and a fingernail was pared into exquisite sharpness.

  "My dear wife, the tide is not high till well after dawn, and you have not even sipped your wine. It's a delicacy. Warms the blood, quickens desire." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. She slapped his face but he was too quick, and a passing mosquito caught the brunt of it.

  "Harmonia, Harmonia. Wherefore art thou Harmonia?" He sang in his rich baritone. "The myths claim she was married not far from here." It was so quiet I could hear the sea lapping against the wall, soft splashy kisses as it wore away the stone ceaselessly, endlessly. "Remember our wedding day, Talia?" He smiled at her.

  "I've erased it from my memory," she said scornfully, but her eyes were saying something else.

  "Too painful, is it?" His voice was so low and intimate I felt I shouldn't be listening. I stared down into my cup.

  "You want pain. I'll give you pain, lover boy," Melusinia said as her dagger whipped the air and took a jagged slice from Orpheus's golden locks. It happened so fast I couldn't even say what occurred, but Orpheus had Melusinia's head pinned against his chest and her dagger was aimed squarely at her own throat. He'd always had good reflexes.

  "I know what a nice tenor you have, so don't make me rearrange your vocal chords. You wouldn't sound half as pretty if I did. Understand?" He pushed her back into her chair. Not many people got the better of Melusinia. Talia gestured "no" to her sister. I could feel her displeasure from where I sat. It steamed the air like a mist. Orpheus tucked the purloined blade into the pocket of his jacket.

  I looked at Perseus. He was sitting very still, except for the third finger of his left hand, which beat a steady pulse on the table. "What do you want, Orpheus?" Talia asked with a sigh.

  "A proposal. We combine our expertise. We are, after all, chasing the same prize. Together we could pool our information, utilise our assets." He licked his lips as his eyes stared into Talia's. "We could be a force of nature."

  "My sisters and I are already a force of nature. We don't need you and your puny sidekick. I'd rather be dragged to my death by an Architeuthis than spend any time in your charming company." Talia's eyes flashed like black fire. They had always been a volatile couple. Not much had changed.

  "Always the melodramatic one." He leaned back and smiled. "Well, when it's in my possession, you can ponder my offer and your refusal. It could have been a match made in Atlantis."

  Talia stood. "Word of advice, pretty boy. Get in my way and I'll turn you into something even your own mother wouldn't recognise. Out there on the open ocean you're fair game, and I can play with you so gently you won't even know until it's too late. If you think you can escape me, think again." He stood up, too, his hands on his hips, cocky and confident. "I wouldn't dream of entering your domain. I float safely above it. My ship sails the currents of the air. My tides are the winds of dawn. Your songs can't reach me there. Although, my dear, I still dream of them. Some mornings I wake with a hard-on as big as Poseidon's trident, and it's then I most miss your oyster lips and your delicious kelp forest." He laughed.

  Melusinia hissed and pulled me up with her, I felt his gaze as we stalked off . He was so handsome it made me feel weak at the knees. I don't remember having that reaction before, but then I had been just a child when he had kidnapped her and held her for ransom. Our father paid, of course. He loved the audacity of this robber prince, and then promptly agreed to their marriage. They were both so alike in their impetuous and
headstrong ways—perhaps too alike. She was more serious about it all, and he was much lighter. It was only a game, he would say, but she needed to win every time. Their relationship was no doubt doomed from the onset.

  We dived before dawn, Lydea grumbling that we barely had enough depth to pass out of the narrow channel. The tide was turning, so the water was murky with debris that hampered vision. Talia's mood was as dark as Hades on a starless night and no one was arguing. Melusinia was in the armoury, sharpening up the weapons, and I had been hauled in to help. Her expression was menacing, and if she hadn't been my sister, I would have had grave fears of ever leaving that place alive. As I polished the swords so they shone like moonshine, I thought of the two men, Orpheus handsome and dangerous, and Perseus and his intriguing sky eyes. Most of all I pondered their airship, trying to conjure a picture of what it looked like, trying to imagine the feeling of sailing above the world on air. What would that be like? Worlds spread out far beneath you, the sea sparkling deep green or turquoise or stormy grey and the earth, multiple shades of nature from brown to grey. It set my mind spinning just trying to envision it.

  Our meeting with Orpheus had added an extra dimension to our search. We dived deeper than we usually did and we didn't bother casting our nets. Down here, we might summon some creature that would destroy us more easily than we could destroy it. Instead, the eldest three huddled together till the midnight hours, poring over charts and arcane manuscripts. I was sent with Sereia to listen to the ocean and discern any unusual noises or disturbances. It was all pretty boring, and half the time I fell asleep, my head leaning against the huge copper apparatus that amplified the underwater echoes. Once, I woke with a start, certain I had heard a familiar masculine laugh. But that was impossible. Wasn't it?

  We sighted a cargo ship one sunset. Lydea sent up the periscope to check its visuals, and we shadowed it through the night while devising a plan. Subtlety was the key. The waters were too deep here, and we needed to guide our quarry to one of our favoured islands about two hundred nautical miles east. The cargo ship was sailing due north, so this required some skilful handling. Sereia began singing, joined by Melusinia, who had the lowest range amongst us. She could out-bass a bass, and we needed to get very low. It was the ship's instruments we wanted to affect foremost, to change their alignment and rearrange their bearings, sending their compass on a turbulent spin to infinity. On the human scale, all those low sliding sounds brought out B-flat minor memories, the dark key of utter solitude, the angst of unbearable darkness of being. Melodies of helplessness and despair.

  Eventually, Aurora and I joined in, bringing in some sweet lightness, just enough to turn the boat off its course and steer it to the centre of our web. By the time the other three added their voices, our cargo was heading to the shoals and annihilation and a shallow sandy beach, where the flotsam could congregate on gentle currents.

  A perfect plan, except for the skies. We searched it regularly, but like the ocean, it was so vast that the chances of seeing his ship were slight. We all knew that it was up there somewhere, and subtle though we were, from his vantage point, Orpheus would have tracked the cargo ship's course easily and known that we were responsible for its changes in steering. Still, we worked on various options.

  It was near four in the morning, darkness complete, but dawn not so far

  away. We were all singing now, our rhythm slowing like a heartbeat winding down toward death. The cargo ship was an hour away from destruction. Our voices blended so mournfully that a pod of seals and dolphins swam around The Harpina, their bright eyes dark with tears that couldn't be shed. And then I had a moment. It comes to each of us, maybe only once in a lifetime. Such a moment came to me then. I felt a young heart—soul, really. He wasn't much older than me, and probably was the cabin boy. I was there inside him sensing his being, living his memories. So young, so many dreams that would never be attained, so many years of life that wouldn't now get lived.

  I faltered, lost my place. I began to shake. Aurora sensed it and gathered me in her arms and held me. She kept singing, adding my part to hers, while I slumped against her. For a moment, I looked out of that boy's eyes and I saw the starlit skies as he lay in his hammock on the foredeck. The night was mild but he had pulled the blanket around him tight, the hammock rocking in time with the boat's movement. It was very quiet, creaking timbers and the swashing of waves against the bow the only sounds. He knew, somehow, that this was it. His prescient feeling overrode any dreams and visions that usually come to our chosen sailors in their last hours. He was immune to them, but not to us. He could feel me in his mind. Why? he asked. Why?

  I had no answer. I retreated from him and fell against Aurora. It was a long time before I could add my voice to the mix, and I'm not even sure I kept the tune properly. The stars I had seen through his eyes shimmered around me, and his ship smashed against the cliff s as the sun peeked over the horizon, the sea and wind conducting the finale. We stood on the deck and watched. It was all perfectly timed and orchestrated. I held Aurora's hand because it is never an easy thing to feel a spark of humanity and then know you have obliterated it.

  By mid-morning, half the cargo had washed up on the beach. We dived around the wreck and used our specially designed dragnet to haul a few more crates up to the shallows. The sharks and eels were swarming, so we left any other diving for a few days and moored The Harpina to began the arduous task of sorting the booty. Talia set an around-the-clock watch of the skies. We needed to be alerted as soon as his ship appeared.

  By the third day, most of the crates were sorted, and though we had quite a bounty, we hadn't found what we were really looking for. Aurora and I began diving. The boxes that lay around the wreck were much smaller. On our seventh dive, we hauled up what looked like a safe. Lydea spent an hour working on opening it until finally, the heavy door creaked open. Amongst assorted papers lay a chromium box. Melusinia sliced the lock open, and there the necklace lay on black velvet. It was so stunningly beautiful that we stood open-mouthed, staring at the golden-winged, two-headed serpent. Its scales glittered with sapphires so dark that they looked almost black, and the eagle was regal enough to be Zeus's legendary Aquila, covered in jasper with rubies dripping like blood on its feathers.

  Talia reached in, the smile on her face triumphant and tinged with an almost holy reverence. She picked it up, and she held it in her hands, lightly fingering its surface. Myrrha helped her put it around her neck, where it lay against her pale skin, catching the sunlight so it was almost too bright to look at.

  We were so caught up in the moment that when a cloud drifted over the face of the sun, we didn't realise at first that it wasn't a cloud. His laugh made us register that we didn't have this beach to ourselves any longer.

  I looked up and saw his airship gliding past the sun toward us. It was huge, an egg-shaped balloon that depicted, appropriately enough, Apollo riding his sun chariot across the sky. A bronze gondola clung to its underside like some organic growth. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Almost outdoing the necklace. In my eyes, anyway.

  And walking across the sands with swords ready strode Orpheus, Perseus, and his retinue of Buccan-airs. I counted ten men. We were outnumbered, six of us on the beach, Sereia still within The Harpina, calling to the deep. But we weren't unprepared.

  Orpheus laughed again. "My darling wife. How glorious you look this fine afternoon."

  The airship whirred above, casting us in shadow for a moment. We stood together, our swords and daggers ready.

  "It looks divine around your pretty neck." He smiled at her.

  She glared at him. "You want it. You'll have to get it off my neck first."

  He shrugged. "My sweet, must it come to that? I'm sure we can negotiate something."

  "Over my dead body," Melusinia growled.

  "Don't tempt me, sister." To Talia he said, "I'd rather not slice your pretty neck, though. I have such pleasurable memories of kissing it."

  "It's going to be the only way
you get your hands on it." Talia lunged at him, slicing his cheek with her sword so a thin smear of blood welled up. "I do love a challenge." He swung his sword around, and she caught it broadside.

  And with swords slashing, the melee began. I found myself fighting Perseus, my daggers to his curved scimitar. Melusinia was taking on three of them and holding her own. I don't know what the others were doing, as I was only aware of my bare feet in the sand, my hands moving in time with his movements. The clash of metal against metal. I felt cool water washing over my toes as I led Perseus into the shallows just as Talia was doing with Orpheus. They were well matched. I caught a glimpse of them, sword against sword, perfectly balanced, her thrusting, him blocking. His lunge, her parry. They were ankle-deep now. She was manoeuvring him backward to her ship, which rolled dangerously shallow.

  On the edge of the breeze, I caught a fragment of Sereia's song, deeply melancholy, almost subliminal. It seemed to float in the waves' tidal pull like jetsam. I stared into Perseus's sky eyes and sighed, and then with a deft piece of footwork I tripped him so he fell backward into the water. With a hoot, I turned around and prodded Orpheus in the back. His waistcoat was thick leather reinforced with silver netting, and my daggers wouldn't penetrate it at all but it distracted him, so he turned toward me. Talia raced through the shallows and leaped onto the submarine's deck. Orpheus whipped around and followed, but now he was at a distinct disadvantage. She was above him, legs firm and steady, while he dealt with the churning waves around The Harpina's hull.

  I turned around but not quickly enough. Perseus grabbed me from behind and twisted my wrists so I dropped my daggers. He had my arms pinned behind me and was trying to drag me to shore. I kicked and fought and we both fell into the waves.

  While I was underwater, I felt a boom, a deep brooding sound, so low it almost didn't register aurally. It was more a vibration that resonated through my bones, like a typhoon off shore. The running tide changed its rhythm, a menacing beat beneath the waves. It was coming.