The overwhelming screeching shudders as I'm climbing the levels. It shudders when I pass my cabin. It shudders again when I pass the galley. Harvey's madman howling gives me sadistic imagery to think on. I keep my head down and keep moving until I'm there.
It's safer now. No more men stupidly stumble towards the tailed women. Even the doctor is tied up, bound to the mast with all the others, meekly whining and pleading like the rest of them. He's weaker than the rest of them. His head hangs, his shoulders sag, tears stain his pale cheeks and seep into his white coat.
Simon and Elian are the only men who are neither tied up nor glowing. I think the glow has something to do with why I hear screeching and not singing. It shudders once again. A shock of something powerful runs over the water, and Harvey spits rude insults at the devilish temptresses.
"Leslie! Mrs. Marks! Prepare the stern anchor!" commands the captain.
Simon and Elian stand in the middle of the deck and stare into each other's eyes. That's all they do. Stare. Their faces are slack.
Leslie and Lydia run off to follow orders.
"Increas! Direct me!"
Master Langley gracefully climbs to the bow and plants his feet at the very front. He draws his sword and the single creature hanging there flees, dropping to the water. He sheaths the blade once more and holds out his right hand. The captain spins the wooden wheel to the right.
Langley holds his hand still, elbow at ninety degrees, and Avery stops. "READY!" shouts the sailing master. Though he may not like to shout, he isn't bad at it. His voice echoes in the chamber, loud and clear and gravelly. "BRACE."
I duck back into the stairwell and hold on. One second, two seconds, then we crash against sand and the ship quakes at the force. My head pounds against my handhold and I let go, sitting back and holding my brow in my quivering hands. My hair falls around my fingers.
"ANCHOR!"
A heavy splash indicates the decent of the stern anchor; only half the size of the main anchor. After the stern anchor is dropped, Leslie, Langley and Lydia work the capstan to lower the bow anchor.
Dorian stands with the captain. Harvey fires a very unusual gun into the water, and the static screeching reduces again. With each explosion from the device, which appears to fire electricity—like lightning!—the screeching grows quieter and less invasive. The men struggle less and less.
Simon and Elian embrace each other. I wouldn't mind an embrace, either.
"Ha!" laughs Captain Avery, tying off the helm. "I'll marry you now, lads!"
Simon peeps and lets go of Elian. The professor is... blushing?
Avery trounces down from the stern and puts his arm around them both. "I did peg you, Professor... but Arrow? And they say arrows are straight."
"I don't know what you're talking about," mutters Simon, eyes on his scuffed shoes. "Please release me."
"It took me as long as it took you, I swear!" the captain chuckles. "But of course you can't simply have a natural 'immunity' to the beasts. We all know what it really is." He whispers something in the professor's ear, and poor Simon takes on a red hue all over his cheeks and his ears, eyes bulging.
"I beg your pardon!" the professor huffs shakily.
I blink. He meets my eye. If it is possible, he turns redder, then quickly glances away. Elian has taken on quite some color, too. The captain shoves them both away and holds his hand out to me. I take it, and he pulls me up to my feet. He's sweating, too. More than I.
He's been steering a ship through obstacles at high speeds for over an hour! He deserves a break.
"Glad that's over, eh?"
"Yeah," I breathe. My muscles are twitching, unable to decide whether to be alert or to relax. My heart pounds.
The screeching is quiet now. It doesn't bother me as much. Harvey's lightning cannon echoes around the cavern and electricity covers the water and reflects over the walls and disappears in a flash. The captain leads me over to the side and points into the bright, clear water below.
The strange half-women swarm like frenzied sharks beneath the surface. Their fins and tails periodically peep from the water. Blood drifts like paint from depths, faint and skewed in the current.
"Are you familiar with the supernatural, Walter?" the captain asks. "These creatures have been spoken of in folklore for generations. Every seaman knows of them."
"What are they?"
"Sirens... dreadful creatures... Before this day, I never dreamed that they would exist. But, strange things happen in Riven at the full moon. Strange things indeed."
"Sirens?" Lydia questions, coming up behind us.
"They enchant sailors. Tempt them to kiss 'em. And once your lips have locked..." he slides his finger across his throat. "Fish food. We've lost a solid number, rest their souls. We shall count heads and mourn when things are safe."
Leslie leans against the railing. "Legends says they's s'posed to sing. Alls I hear is screeching, of the foulest sort."
"Me, too!" I whine.
"It protects us," the captain murmurs, lifting a glowing blue charm—a crescent moon—from under his shirt.
Lydia shakes her head and looks down at the angry creatures. Some stare back at us, their eyes narrowed dangerously. "They are singing, but it is only one voice. What about the professor? And Walter? And Mr. Arrow? And you and the officers? Why aren't you falling over yourselves?"
"Walter's got the mineral, like myself and my officers. It is sacred to Astiza. She protects us." He shrugs and smiles that mischievous smile of his, tucking his charm away. "As for Woods and Arrow... I don't think that they are attracted to women any more than you are, my dear."
He looks past her to Harvey at the other side of the deck. "Harvey! What of the wolves?"
"Left 'em with the boy," grunts the goblin. He cranks a lever at the side of his electricity device and walks towards us.
The captain reddens, frowning at me. I squeamishly hold up the gun that I have been given. I've never handled a gun before, and I'd honestly rather it be taken in the hands of someone more experienced. It isn't comfortable to be burdened with it.
"We heard them turning," Lydia shudders. "It was awful."
"I didn't hear anything," I argue.
"You were unconscious, dear, and better for it."
"They're in control of themselves, I assure you," states the captain, palms bared in a calming manner. "Riven has that effect on werewolves. Control."
Harvey props the barrel of his gun on the railing. "They wasn't in control of themselves with all that screechin'. You said not to kill 'em tho, so I 'ad to calm 'em down."
The captain blinks. "What did you do, Harvey?" The patience in his tone comes off strained, laced with an unfaithful sliver of malice.
"Gave 'em some o' that rock from the homo-seck-shual's junk so's they wouldn't break down the cell doors. They's was ravin'!"
Captain Avery stiffens and clenches his fists, glaring furiously at the little gunner. He grabs Harvey by the collar and lifts him to his eye level, and his back turns to the rest of us. "I don't know what goes on in your head, you flea-ridden little runt," he hisses. He throws Harvey, causing the goblin to stumble and flail an arm. His other arm tightly cradles his gun to protect it. "Get down there and make sure those beasts are contained, moron!"
Harvey swallows and salutes, "A-Aye, Cap'n," and hightails it below decks.
Captain Avery shakes his head in exasperation and folds his forearms on the rail.
"If he fires that gun in close quarters, he'll shock himself, too," says Dorian. The little fox, tail swishing, stands over the hatch leading below decks, frowning across at the captain. Avery doesn't look, waving a hand over his shoulder.
"So be it."
"As in, he'll be out cold for a solid hour at the very least," Dorian sternly yips. "I don't make toys, Hank. I make weapons. Aren't we short-handed enough?"
The captain wipes his brow and unbuttons his coat. "We'll stay aground for as long as we need."
The screeching of the sirens is getting louder every second now that Harvey and his lightning cannon are gone. I can see the suffering that it is causing to the others. It's maddening. Truly maddening, listening to this grating abomination of a noise without end.
The captain clenches his ears in his fists and forces his forehead against the rail. Master Langley twitches, Master Leslie's gargantuan muscles tremble.
"Will someone kill the wenches?" Dorian whines, pawing at his muzzle.
"Increas..." murmurs the captain, "Are you armed?"
"With sword, as always." With the calmer state on the deck, his slow manner of speaking returns, concealing his accent.
"Could you check on Harvey? I have a feeling that those wolves are of her pack. It is far too optimistic to continue calling their presence coincidence."
Her?
Increas bows and steps back respectfully. "Aye, captain."
"Walter, Mrs. Marks, I suggest you both stand away from me."
Trained as we are, we obey. "Aye, Captain."
Simon is speaking to Elian by the bow stairs, flailing his arms with every word in an excited and ecstatic manner. There are tears in his eyes, but a smile across his lips. Meanwhile, the poor doctor pitifully weeps and wails behind the rope at the mast, as though all the good things in the world have disappeared. His frail frame shudders with distress, his cheeks sunken under the weight of his misery.
Everything seems to still for a moment. Even with the hurricane of howls from the water's residents and the ship's, it just feels... still. The current beneath us stops for a second, I swear by it, then pulses and flows on again.
The sparkling lights above us flicker. My rock shines once so brightly through my bandana knot that my entire face is lit, until it reduces to dark, and the glow recedes from every inch of my skin until I am pasty pale again. It's happening to the others, too. But, unlike me, they seem to know what it means.
Captain Avery treads carefully away from the side rail and draws his blade.
"I have your flank, Captain," assures Leslie gravely.
The glow over our skins suddenly floods back. I look over the rails, and the sirens are swarming in frenzy, though they aren't trying to get to us. It's as if they are waiting for us to come to them.
"Dorian, go to my cabin," orders the captain.
"I can help," whines the fox. He doesn't wear a stone. He doesn't glow.
"Now, Dorian."
The fox hesitates, but with a glare from Avery, slinks away from the below-decks staircase. He gropes at the handle to the captain's cabin and is soon gone.
"It is silent, Captain. Surely, we would have heard Harvey give a shout, or Increas by now, if one of the lice had escaped," says Leslie.
"Increas wouldn't shout," growls Avery, unconvinced.
Ironically, we hear Increas shout. He springs from below decks and pushes the captain back, eyes wide, and with garbled words heavily accented, he breaths urgent unintelligible warning. Paler than the sails, he faces the stairs again and readies his thin fencing rapier at Captain Avery's side.
"Harvey?" asks the captain.
Increas shakes his head.
"Dead?"
Increas inhales and shakes his head again. "Di'nt seeh."
"Are the wolves all out?"
The sailing master nods. "Aye. Awll terned and ahrmed. Mike wa'nt wit' thim."
"Armed?"
"Must have made a stop at the weapons locker," grunts Leslie. "Harvey probably left it open."
Captain Avery curses. His blade sways in his hand, betraying his anxiety. "Any of Dorry's weapons?"
"Tewk de eeleectreek woon ahnd..."
"Increas, please! Your accent!"
Increas frowns and bitterly focuses on his pronunciation. Slow and steady. "They took the electric one off Harvey, and I think the leader is carrying..."
One great ugly head appears from below, and all three of the sailors let out hollers. I recognize Pete, the leader of the pack, as he propels himself towards the captain with a flaming curved sword. Mrs. Lydia screams and runs to higher ground at the stern deck.
She isn't armed. Neither am I, for my sword is tied in its sheath by my hammock.
The captain holds a firm parry on the burning blade, but his own admiral-class steel starts to lose shape under the pressure and the heat. Leslie tackles the hideous werewolf and Increas kicks the sword into the water.
Leslie holds the wolf's muzzle shut in his fist.
"Snap his fucking neck," spits the captain, eyes trained on the impractical bend in his prized weapon.
A second wolf appears, Stevey, and the very largest of them all, Brutus, comes last. As Increas has said, Mike suspiciously isn't among them.
Stevey gets to all fours and creeps threateningly towards Increas, cackling. He is a gun expert, Stevey. That's why the doctor hired him. However, it is Brutus who carries Harvey's electrical firearm.
Stevey holds knives in his claws.
"Oh, Increasss... are you ready to lose another eyyye?"
Increas gracefully beckons with his rapier. Pete claws at Leslie with all fours, and manages to tackle him back, bleeding the poor quartermaster out with his talons.
Now Leslie struggles from beneath the wolf. As a man, Pete wasn't much larger than the doctor, but armed with claws and powerful haunches, he's become a much more dangerous adversary.
Brutus heads for the captain, cranking the lever of the electrical device. The captain attempts to knock it from his hands, but Brutus grabs the man's blade in one massive meat hook and with an application of pressure that draws blood from his bloated palms, Captain Avery's sword snaps uselessly into two pieces.
He looks afraid. Captain Avery looks afraid. It's the kind of fear that you see in animals when they're backed into the corner of a slaughterhouse with no way out. It's the kind of fear that appears when all is lost.
Brutus readies the electrical cannon.
Gunshot sounds, and the hulking giant yelps. The weapon jumps from his grip and fires into the river. The screeching of the sirens shudders, but their frenzy continues as fiercely as ever.
Brutus's hand bleeds from a bullet wound, but after only a second to acknowledge the wound, he keeps advancing on the captain.
Simon holds his gun at his side across the deck, shocked. Hot gunpowder smoke drifts across his person.
"JUST KILL HIM, YOU IDIOT!" howls Captain Avery, swinging his half-sword as his only protection. The professor stammers.
Pete suddenly cries out and the next I see, the beast is strangled in a choke hold by Leslie. The wolf scratches at the quartermaster's arms, but Leslie bears the cuts as though they are harmless as a kitten's.
Increas ducks when Stevey lunges at him and drives his thin rapier through the wolf's thick-skinned chest.
The wolf drops his knives and collapses lifelessly onto the sailing master, who easily drives him off. Leslie releases Pete, now either unconscious or dead.
Both officers spring to the captain's aid immediately, but Brutus senses them. He leaps forward and grabs the captain by his shoulders and the captain drives his half-sword into the giant's groin, but it all happens so quickly and with so much force that I don't think anything can possibly be stopped. The officers aren't fast enough. I'm not fast enough, but I try.
But the captain squats down and Brutus tumbles over him and over the rail, and grabs the captain's leg through the scuppers on his way down, down, down. The captain holds on to the stanchions for a second, but Brutus is nearly four times his size, and he is overboard in a flash. Falling and screaming.
I dive to catch his hand, but I miss. Increas dives on the other side of the stanchion, and he misses, too, but he doesn't give up, and he draws a long rope from beneath his cape and hollers the captain's name as he does and with perfection throws the coils directly to the man, who catches it as though he'd known it was coming, but his legs are already in the water and he is screaming and Brutus is bleeding and Brutus is dead and Brutus is shredded like mince into nothing in seconds and the sirens are upon the captain's leg while he cries and hollers to be pulled up, and panicked, tries to climb up the rope himself to escape the ferocious, flesh-eating freaks.
Increas is straining with all his strength, but he can't pull the man up. The captain howls, suffering torture so intense that my heart stops at the very sound of his cries, and my eyes are frozen. It is gruesome and horrible and worse than the sight of my mother—my mother who had no eyes—and the captain kicks with his free leg while the other is invisible beneath the thickness of red in the water, and he clings to the rope and he clings to his life with desperation.
Leslie grabs the rope from behind Increas and together they hoist their captain from the waters below. Captain Avery's bleeding, mangled right leg hangs limply. His other leg curls nearly all the way up to his chest as he makes himself small. When he comes into reach, Leslie grabs him from under his shoulders and lifts him easily into his torn-up arms.
The captain is muttering in shock. His hands fidget, his eyes don't blink.
Lydia runs down from the stern, and Simon runs to meet her, and together they breathe their need for the doctor. The doctor, the doctor, they need the doctor.
The captain's injured leg dangles from Leslie's arms with barely an ounce of boot left. Pulpy muscles and dripping flesh and oozing puss unevenly dress the glossy bone that can be seen in places beneath what is left of the scrapped skin and clothes. That was how Brutus died. Every inch of his body was like that, until there was no flesh left at all.
And here is the twitching, shuddering captain, bleeding and bleeding and bleeding.