Sword Sirens

by Edmund Hughes

  Ari sighed. He was good at lying, but not to her.

  “Okay, I was peeping,” he said, smiling a little.

  Kerys made a high pitched, frustrated noise. Ari brought the cart up to the side section of the hot springs, where he could sit down without having her directly in view.

  “Toss me your dress,” he said. “I’ll wash it first.”

  “Oh,” said Kerys. “Thanks.”

  She tossed her dress over. Ari spread it out across the rocks, dabbing a finger against the sticky substance it was covered with. It felt as much like a man’s seed as it looked like it, and he felt a weird flush of arousal as he considered how thoroughly Kerys had been hosed down.

  “Are you nervous at all, about today?” asked Kerys.

  Ari dunked her dress into the warm water, grabbing one of the sponge stones off the cart to scrub at the fabric.

  “A little,” he said. “But I think everyone is. The Choosing is basically a rite of passage for eighteen-year-olds. It’s not just about what happens if you pull a black stone.”

  He heard the sound of splashing water and only barely resisted the temptation to glance over at her.

  “I couldn’t sleep last night,” said Kerys. “I just kept picturing the ceremony in my head and all of the ways it could end up playing out.”

  “Relax, Kerys,” said Ari. “There was only a single girl born this last year, so there’s only going to be one black stone for you to worry about. And I sincerely doubt you’ll even be one of the ten chosen to pull from the urn in the first place.”

  The Hollow Lord was ultimately the one who made the decision about which newly turned eighteen-year-olds would be participating in the Choosing. Ari fully expected Kerys to be given a free pass, given her unique circumstances and that there were 16 other girls of the same age.

  She was the youngest daughter of the Weaver family and the only one of the family’s girls that had survived her childhood. Kerys had suffered from the same weakening sickness that had taken her sisters, but miraculously, she’d lived through it.

  She was still prone to sickness as an adult, and her frail body both bruised and bled easily. Ari couldn’t imagine the Hollow Lord thinking that she’d be a good candidate to potentially send out to the surface, assuming he had any compassion whatsoever.

  “Only a single girl was born,” said Kerys, “but three boys were. And with ten of you having to pull stones…”

  She trailed off, though Ari knew full well where her line of thinking was taking her. The Hollow Lord tended to pick the boys for the Choosing based off their standing and worth to the community.

  Designated troublemakers, more often than not, were the first ones pulling stones in the Choosing each year. The same was true of orphans. The fact that Ari fit neatly into the intersection of both categories made his stomach twist into stubborn knots whenever he let himself consider it.

  “That’s just how the Choosing works,” said Ari. He scrubbed a little harder at her dress. “It’s always been this way, ever since we were kids.”

  “It’s so much scarier now,” whispered Kerys. “To think that anyone of our age could be picked, and we’d lose them forever, over what amounts to a game of chance.”

  Ari nodded slowly. It was the harsh reality created by the limited resources of the Golias Hollow. The legends surrounding the Choosing portrayed it as more of a pilgrimage than a death sentence, which is part of the reason why teenagers had traditionally been the ones sent out, rather than the old and infirm.

  Ari had always thought that it would have made more sense to prioritize sending out the biggest drains on the community’s resources rather than young people in their prime, but the Hollow’s rigid adherence to Dormiar’s revered and dogmatic teachings didn’t leave much room for things like common sense.

  It was possible that the Choosing had once been similar to a pilgrimage, but he’d had never seen it in that light during his lifetime. Nobody had ever returned from the surface in all the time that anyone he knew could remember. The records they had of Maiya, the continent that existed outside of their self-contained underground world, spoke of horrible monsters, impossible weather conditions, and a “tainted wind” that no man or woman could survive.

  The most terrifying aspect of the surface, at least to Ari, had always been how taboo it was to talk about it. They didn’t speculate about what might be up there. They didn’t reminisce about loved ones who’d previously pulled the black stone in the Choosing. They spoke of the world outside of Golias Hollow less than they spoke of the prophet Dormiar’s fabled Endfate.

  “I’m the last person to make any sort of argument that the Choosing is somehow righteous, or fair,” said Ari. “But I think it will be okay this time. I have hope.”

  “You do?” asked Kerys.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  It was true enough. He’d been working hard for the past year, even though his job as a disposalist was one of the most maligned in the community. Ari had faith that the Hollow Lord would pass him over in favor of some of the other boys, and he was sure that Kerys wouldn’t be picked.

  “Promise me,” said Kerys.

  “What?”

  “Promise me that if you get picked for the Choosing, you won’t pull a black stone.”

  “Kerys…”

  Ari heard the sound of splashing water.

  “Aristial Stoneblood!” shouted Kerys. “Look me in the eyes and promise me you won’t pull a black stone! Promise me on Dormiar’s hand!”

  Ari rolled his eyes. He turned around and let his gaze find hers, feeling an exaggerated, persistent thumping in his heart. It was usually so easy for him to hide his feelings for her, but he could sense his mask crumbling under the weight of her intense, earnest stare. He didn’t just care for her. He loved her.

  “I promise I won’t pull a black stone,” he said.

  He saw Kerys let out a sigh of relief. Her golden blonde hair hung in soaked, tangled locks, and her entire body glistened with moisture. Including her breasts, which he found near impossible to draw his attention away from.

  “You’re still naked, you know,” said Ari.

  Kerys let out a small gasp, followed by an embarrassed squeal as she pulled her arms into place to cover herself.

  CHAPTER 3

  Ari gave Kerys her dress back as soon as it was clean and stayed behind in the hotsprings to finish the chore he’d adopted once she’d left. After that, he headed back down into the main cavern, depositing the dishes off at the cooking nook in the far corner.

  A few of the Hollow Lord’s helpers were already setting wooden chairs into place for the ceremony, each one carved from dusktree trunks and worth more in stones than Ari made in a week. He headed past them, through the sweetroot farms and mushroom fields that comprised the deeper caves, before finally making the climb down the sloping tunnel that led to the lower pit.

  The lower pit was where Golias Hollow dumped the majority of their refuse. The smell was terrible on a good day and borderline unbearable when it got warm. Ari found his spade where he’d left it and moved to start shoveling some of the trash that had accumulated into the massive opening of the deep, gaping chasm.

  Milo, the grizzled, middle-aged Master of the Pit, made his way over to Ari and set a hand on his shoulder.

  “No need for your help today, boy,” said Milo. “I’ve got it covered.”

  Milo was typically a man of few words. He was short and stocky, with only a few scraps of gray hair left on his head and a scowl permanently set onto his face. He’d never taken a wife, though that wasn’t unusual for a disposalist, even one who’d risen to hold a position of authority.

  “There’s more to dump here than you can do in one shift,” said Ari. “I’d feel bad about leaving it all to you.”

  “Do you have wax in your ears, boy?” snapped Milo. “I’m giving you the day off. Along with this.”

  The old man reached into his tunic and pulled out a small, leather pouch. Ari furrowed his
brow as he accepted it, untying the draw string and sniffing the contents when he couldn’t see them in the dark.

  “Sarkin flower,” said Ari, smiling and shaking his head. “The Hollow Lord banned this stuff almost three years ago. Probably for good reason.”

  Sarkin flower had once been a popular narcotic amongst the more indulgent denizens of the cavern. Ari had tried it once or twice, himself, back when it had still been around. It was a highly pleasurable stimulant, and when ingested, it gave the user a rush of energy and euphoria, along with heightened senses. The effect was even more pronounced and immediate when smoked.

  “Take it with you,” said Milo. “Just in case.”

  Ari scowled, finding himself unable to brush off the implication.

  “I’m not going to get picked, Milo,” he said. “I’ve reformed over the past year. I’m not a miscreant anymore. Well, not really. You’re worrying over nothing.”

  “Not as I see it, boy,” said Milo, in a sharp tone.

  “You’re ancient, Milo,” said Ari. “You can barely see me, let alone what I’ve been up to.”

  Milo let out a small chuckle, and then his face grew serious.

  “You’re strong, Ari,” he said. “You’ve certainly got guts to spare, and a solid head on your shoulders. I honestly hope you’re right.”

  Ari tried to swallow the unnecessary lump that had formed in his throat. He hesitated for only an instant before pulling the old man into a tight hug. They’d been good friends, at least as much as two men separated by half a century in age could be.

  “Thanks,” said Ari. “But I’ll be giving your illegal gift back to you when I come down later today to finish up the work.”

  “I’ll see you then,” said Milo.

  The old man patted his back and slowly released him from the hug. He cleared his throat and returned to shoveling shit, and Ari watched him for a couple of seconds before heading back down the hall.

  He spent the next few hours in his personal nook, which had once been a small storage closet. It lacked many of the conveniences of most homes in the Hollow, including the means to prepare his own food or a proper privy.

  It was as much as could be expected for an orphan. Ari had barely been old enough to talk when his mother had died, and he’d been passed from household to household until the age of twelve, when he’d been allotted his own living space.

  A few of the Mistresses had continued to check in on him over the months, making sure that he was earning enough from his drudge work to pay his own way. They’d always been reminding him to stay out of trouble and bemoaning the fact that their advice so often seemed to fall on deaf ears.

  The few times Ari had eaten food that hadn’t been raw or at a communal meal were when Kerys had invited him over for dinner. He’d always appreciated the gesture but found himself declining her offers as he got older and began to notice the disdain Kerys’ father and older brothers had for him.

  The hour drum announced the arrival of the Choosing in dramatic fashion. Ari was already wearing his best tunic and only took the time to stuff the sarkin flower into his pocket and wipe his face clean with a wet cloth before heading down to the main cavern.

  He was one of the last to arrive, though that was often the case. The majority of the cavern’s three hundred and four residents were sitting in their chairs, facing the center of the room in stark silence.

  The Hollow Lord, Harris’ father, stood behind an altar on a stone dais in the center of the room. He was dressed in a ceremonial white silk robe, and his hair was pulled up into a knot in the same style often depicted in the old artwork of the prophet Dormiar.

  All of the Hollow’s eighteen-year-olds stood on either side of the room, girls to the left and boys to the right. Ari hurried to take his place, ignoring the annoyed glances a few people shot in his direction.

  Harris was surrounded by his friends, and he whispered something to them as Ari approached that brought out a muffled laugh. Probably a joke at his expense. He was too nervous to make himself care.

  The Hollow Lord waited for a few more minutes before finally clearing his throat. The altar had twenty candles on it, and the Hollow Lord accepted a small twig torch from one of his helpers, which he used to slowly and methodically light each wick.

  “Welcome, friends and family,” said the Hollow Lord, in a booming voice. “We are gathered here today to take another step forward in fulfilling Dormiar’s mission.”

  “Dormiar’s blessings upon us,” replied the assembled crowd. Ari mouthed the words on reflex, finding that his throat was too dry to make much sound.

  “When our people were first given this hollow, this sanctum that we’ve made into our home, it was with an understanding of both the responsibility and sacrifice inherent in the mere act of existing,” said the Hollow Lord. “Dormiar, our beacon and guide through the darkness, decreed that Golias Hollow would always strive to remain a community of three hundred and no more.”

  The Hollow Lord took a slow breath, and then reached down under the altar. He pulled out a large, white urn and set it in the center of the circle of candles.

  “On this day, as is tradition, we shall perform the Choosing,” said the Hollow Lord. “Those selected will be asked to leave, for the sake of our community. They will leave the sanctum as pilgrims, men and women alike, and seek a life beyond the rock.”

  “Dormiar’s blessings upon us,” the crowd repeated.

  The Hollow Lord left the silence that followed to hang in the air for several seconds. He let his gaze drift across the teenagers, his expression serious in consideration of the gravity of both the situation and the fate to which he’d be condemning some of them.

  “We shall begin with the men,” said the Hollow Lord. “The first to pull a stone and place their future in the hands of Dormiar’s wisdom… shall be Aristial Stoneblood.”

  A hush fell over the crowd. Ari felt his cheeks burn as dozens of sets of eyes turned his way in unison. Being selected to pull a stone in the Choosing was a minor shame, in itself.

  The only exception was for those with aspirations of future leadership within the Hollow, namely the Hollow Lord’s son and other privileged youths. They were typically expected to make the noble gesture of requesting to pull a stone for the sake of their family’s honor and as a way of avoiding accusations of personal bias or favoritism.

  Being personally selected to pull the first stone without prior notice, however, was basically a condemnation of a person’s character. The first pull was considered to be particularly unlucky, so much so that the Hollow Lords of past years had been rumored to have occasionally rigged the Choosing in order to make the first pull always turn out to be a black stone.

  Ari took a step forward, separating himself from the other boys, most of whom had already begun whispering behind his back. His face, neck, and chest were all hot with shame. He knew what everyone was thinking, because it was the same thing that he was thinking himself.

  They didn’t want him. He was an orphan, prone to fighting and other troublesome behavior. He had nothing to offer their community. If he pulled a black stone, all it meant in practical terms to them was that someone else’s son would get a pass. Nobody was going to miss him.

  He made the mistake of glancing over at the girls on the left side of the cavern. Kerys immediately held his gaze. Her eyes were already wet with tears, and as much as her concern touched him, it also dissolved the remaining vestiges of his hope.

  He knew that he was going to pull a black stone. And he knew that he was going to die on the surface.

  CHAPTER 4

  The Hollow Lord stepped back from the altar as Ari made his way up onto the stone dais. He extended a hand, and Ari shook it, though it took all the willpower he had to keep from petulantly squeezing as hard as he could.

  He stepped up to the altar, taking a slow breath to calm himself. As the ceremony demanded, Ari licked his thumb and forefinger and used them to extinguish the flame of one of the twenty candl
es that represented each of the potential sacrifices selected for the Choosing.

  More than anything, Ari wanted to say something. He wanted to put his feelings into words. He wanted to let it all out, especially his frustrations with the community and the fact that he’d never been given a chance to truly belong to it.

  His mother had been no more than a few years older than he was now when she died. She’d never taken a husband, and nobody had known for sure who Ari’s father was, since no man had ever come forward and claimed him. He was an orphan and a bastard, and apparently also a naïve fool for not seeing the truth. Who else would they have chosen to pull the first stone?

  He jammed his hand into the urn with more force than necessary and pulled out a stone, clutching it so tightly that his knuckles started to cramp. He held it out in the direction of the crowd, as the ceremony demanded, and then opened his fist.

  The stone was white. Ari blinked a few times, wondering if it was a trick of the glowmoss illuminating the cavern. He brought it close to his face and stared at it in disbelief.

  “White stone,” called out the Hollow Lord, in a voice that was more than a little disappointed. “By Dormiar’s decree. Aristial Stoneblood, you shall serve the community here, in the sanctum.”

  The Hollow Lord took the stone from Ari’s hand and gestured back toward the other boys. Ari walked over to them slowly, looking for Kerys in the crowd of girls as he went. She was grinning, though her cheeks were still wet from fresh tears. Ari winked at her. He always kept his promises. Well, most of the time.

  The next few boys who were picked to pull stones seemed to pass by in a blur, from his perspective. Jarvis was one of them, which was not unexpected. Ari wasn’t sure how to feel when Jarvis opened his hand and revealed a black stone. Jarvis didn’t seem to know how to feel, either, as his expression remained as shrouded and impassive as it usually was.

  A boy by the name of Byron also pulled a black stone, and he began weeping openly, without hesitation. Nobody stood to comfort him, not even his family. The ceremony was too solemn of an event to be interrupted by anyone’s tears.