by Kody Boye
What are—
“This the first man eater you’ve ever seen?” Captain Jerdai asked, sliding up alongside Odin. The man offered his pipe, but Odin declined.
“Man eater, sir?”
“They’re sharks, lad. You’d do best not to fall off the boat while they’re around.”
“I…” He paused. “All right.”
Odin leaned over, wanting to take another look at the school of creatures, but found they had already vanished. “Where did they go?” he frowned.
“Below, most likely. They may not be the smartest fish in the sea, but they’re not stupid either. They’ll know if someone’s watching them.”
“I don’t like not knowing what’s under there.”
“Who does?” White smoke shot from Jerdai’s nose as he expelled a breath. “Out here on the open water, you’ve got to remember that we’re not alone. There’s more to life down there than just dumb fish who eat, sleep and breed.”
Odin said nothing.
Jerdai, likely thinking he wanted his time alone, turned to leave.
Odin continued to watch the water, almost completely unaware that the man had left.
“All right men!” Jerdai called out. “You better hurry and bathe. It’s starting to get dark, and we don’t want anyone unaccounted for when the sun goes down.”
With freedom and abandon that seemed completely natural, men ran for the side of the boat, stripping from their shoulders and waists their clothes and cheering as they flung themselves over the railing and into the water. Odin watched, awestruck and horrified, as their bodies sailed through the air until they eventually plummeted down into the ocean.
“Is it safe to jump that far down?” Odin asked, fingers sliding up to his shirt and the top button.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” Miko said. “As long as you don’t land on your stomach.”
“Yeah,” Nova said, stripping naked. “That wouldn’t be too much fun.”
The older man walked to the side, took one glance at the water below, then hurled himself over. Odin watched him fall until he splashed into the water and emerged a brief moment later. “Come on!” he called up.
Careful to pull his shirt off without losing it to the slight wind that whispered across the ocean, Odin undid the clasp on his belt and had just begun to pull his pants and loincloth down his legs when he realized that Miko had made no move to undress. “You’re not coming?” he asked.
“No,” the Elf said. “I have no intention of revealing myself to these men.”
“You’re going to have to do it sometime.”
“I understand, but now is not the time.”
Stepping forward, Odin looked over the railing and swallowed a lump in his throat when he realized just how far down the drop was.
Just don’t land on your stomach, he thought, steadying himself on the railing. Just don’t—
He slipped.
Falling, quickly, toward the ocean that seemed to grow so vast and impenetrable as he eclipsed the air, he realized he would land on his belly unless he corrected his position. With little time to do that, he closed his eyes and flung his body to the right.
Water exploded around him.
His side numb, his arm all but useless, he clawed at the sea with his better side in a desperate attempt to keep himself upright. Liquid shot into the open spaces of his eyes and nose, blinding and drowning him at the same time, while directionless he whipped his limbs to and fro, clawing for anything that might give him a better sense of his surroundings.
I can’t breathe, he thought, almost tempted to laugh even though the situation was so dire. My God. I’m going to die out at sea just by jumping into the ocean.
His thoughts slipped.
His chin fell to his chest, head heavier than ever.
Just as he thought he was going to drown, a resisting force grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him free of the ocean’s waves.
“You all right?” a voice asked.
After coughing a mouthful of water out, Odin looked up to see Nova, eyes alight with concern and dancing with flames of unease. “Yeah,” he managed. “I’m okay.”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t hurt yourself when you fell. What happened?”
“I slipped.”
Nova grimaced. “That sucks.”
“Yeah. It does.”
Odin pushed Nova’s hand away from the back of his neck when he figured he could swim by himself. Now that the numbness had faded, he found maneuvering through the water surprisingly easy, despite its chill and the slight ache that throbbed in his ribs.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Nova asked, lingering close. “It looked like you hit the water pretty hard.”
“I did. My ribs ache.”
“Well… I don’t know what to tell you.” The older man shrugged, reaching up to scratch his cheek. “If you need help, don’t be afraid to ask. I’m more than willing to lend a hand.”
“I know.”
Odin reached up to run his hands through his hair. Although he wished that they were in a tub rather than the open ocean—mostly so he could use soap, but also so he wouldn’t have to worry about the ‘man eaters’ he had seen earlier—he could deal with cleaning himself with just sea water.
“We’re going to smell like salt once we dry off,” Nova laughed, splashing a little water onto his face.
“We are?”
“Well, yeah. Don’t you know the water has salt in it?”
“I didn’t.”
“Guess you really do learn something new every day, huh?”
“I guess.”
Nova laughed. He slapped water at Odin.
More than ready to reciprocate, Odin pushed his hands under the water and was just about to send a magic-forced blast of moisture at his friend before he stopped.
The air, once lax and free of any substance, thickened.
Skin crawling, what felt like the inklings of magic tickled the tips of his feet, simultaneously jarring his legs closer to his body.
“What?” Nova laughed, splashing him a little. “Why’d you stop all of a sudden?”
“Something’s wrong.”
“What?”
The playfulness in Nova’s voice disappeared, as if capped with a globe and forced to germinate under less than substantial circumstances. He reached out to touch Odin’s shoulder, but stopped when the younger man shook his head.
“It’s just… I… I don’t—”
“It’s just what, Odin? Tell me.”
“Something isn’t right.”
“What isn’t right?”
“We need to go back up,” he said, heart thundering in his chest. “How are we—”
“There’s ropes on the side, buddy.”
He looked up. Just as Nova had said, thick, corded bundles of rope dangled from the sides of the ship in one single, interconnected mass, which resembled something of a tattered spider web in the half-light permeating the world around them.
“Come on!” Odin cried. “We’ve got to—”
Just before he could finish, a single, low note pierced the silence of the night.
All movement ceased. Even the ocean herself seemed to still.
“What was that?” Nova asked. “I haven’t heard anything like—”
Another note sounded, then two, and continued to rise in pitch until at least twelve simultaneous notes sung a low harmony.
“SIRENS!” someone screamed from above.
Men, unaware or ignorant to the danger that lurked below, dove, muttering lust and profanities of the beautiful things below.
What could they be, these things of honor, these fallen beauties, these winged beings? Their arms, their legs, their talons, their remnants of wings, with faces harsh and sharp—these were the things cast to the seas from the Heavens for their song was too low. Said to dwell within the deepest parts of the ocean, they preyed on those susceptible to their song—those who, undoubtedly mortal, could discern the pitch and
exaggeration of notes, of falsettos and trembles and even the whistle pitches that echoed across the ocean as if they were reverberating off a mountain. It was songs like these, they said, that were magic, that twisted the mind and forced the most perverse thoughts into a mortal man’s head. It mattered not if he were noble, if he were chaste, if he were married, partnered or even a member of the priesthood—there was nothing that could tame the mortal man from the sirens’ cry. It was for that reason when, in looking at those around him, Odin found his heart captivated and his head spinning in glee, for he was just as mortal as some of these men around him.
What is this? he thought, swaying, eyes drooping. What am I—
The thoughts ended when his eyes fell on Nova.
Expecting his friend to follow, Odin started to swim toward the boat, but stopped when he heard no splash behind him.
When he turned, horror struck his heart.
His friend’s eyes lay devoid of emotion.
“Nova?” Odin frowned.
He reached forward, wrapping his hand around his friend’s wrist.
The moment their skin touched, Nova lunged.
The unexpected reaction forced Odin into the water.
“No!” he screamed, grabbing the back of Nova’s hair with his other hand as the man attempted to dive. “Nova! Nova! NO!”
“Let go of me!”
“I’m not letting you go!”
Nova struggled, thrashing to and fro, tearing the currents and lifting the water as if it were holy and boiling in the presence of something wicked.
“I’m not letting you go!” he screamed, throwing himself back. Nova’s head came out of the water, gasping with wild breath. “Nova! NOVA!”
“Bastard!” the man roared. “Let me go!”
“What would Katarina think?”
“I haven’t seen my wife in three years!”
The shock of the words halted Nova’s struggle.
For a moment, the humanity in the man’s eyes returned, forcing tears from the corners of his eyes.
Just as quickly as that humanity came, it left.
Knowing that Odin would not let go, Nova attacked.
He raked Odin’s arms with fingernails long left untrimmed.
When blood stained the water, Odin’s heart stopped beating.
Man-eating fish lurked just beneath the surface.
“No,” he whispered.
Nearby, a man who had somehow resisted the pull of the sirens’ lustful song dug his hands into the side of his head. For what, Odin couldn’t be sure, but the resulting effect brought blood from his flesh. Fish, increasing in shape and size, darted around the man and circled him in a violent frenzy.
With blood covering the water’s surface, Odin was unable to see what came next. The man screamed, a splash came, and he disappeared with little more than a violent cry heard even through the barrier of water.
“Nova,” Odin sobbed, trying to hold back screams as his friend continued to tear his arms apart. “Please… stop.”
“Let me go,” the man breathed, “and maybe I will.”
“I’m not letting you go!”
A sharp, slick form slid up against Odin’s legs.
Thousands of tiny daggers slashed his thighs.
“You’re going to get us killed!” Odin cried. “Please don’t do this to me!”
Odin’s head spun, vertigo forcing white pain behind his eyes; his arms throbbed, pumping red into the deep below; and his body shook, vibration in an already-alive world.
Somehow, despite everything he felt, he managed to hold on to Nova.
“Please!”
A thunderclap exploded near the water, purple light shocking the life from a creature so large and long Odin couldn’t bear to look.
Several other smaller, nearly-indistinguishable eruptions went up around him, parading about the seascape as if they themselves were creatures of flesh and blood and attacking the wicked selfish. Fishermen screamed in pain. Fish flopped from the water. Orbs of magic in shades of purple, orange and green encircled the wounded or terrified and lifted them from the water, where they dangled in the air as though flying through the sky until they dropped onto the ship to be rescued by others.
Odin opened his eyes.
A gargantuan head filled with dagger-sharp teeth lunged for him.
Just before a maw of teeth could wrap around Odin’s chest, a purple orb surrounded them. The creature flew away as light crackled, sending warning tendrils out to anything attempting to swim toward them.
Gradually, the sphere lifted them out of the water and hovered in midair. Odin saw several men scrambling back and forth on the deck as it came into view, tending to the mortally-wounded and insane out of their minds. Regardless of how the injured or terrified’s antics had ceased, Nova continued to fight—kicking, biting and scratching.
The moment they landed on the deck, Odin let go.
Nova, crazed by song and desire, ran for the railing and tried to throw himself over, but stopped as Miko set himself before him.
Spreading his arms, the Elf tilted his head up, black hood ominous against the backdrop of magic that stormed around them. “Stop,” he said, voice amplified by magic.
“Get away from me!”
Nova backed away, gripping his head, pulling at his hair, clawing at his face. He screamed as spittle flew from a mouth bared in violence and as his teeth ground together to the point where Odin believed they would break. Unbeknownst to Nova, however, two men—ears undoubtedly filled with wax—stepped forward, grabbed Nova’s arms, and held him steady as the imposing figure in black stepped forward.
“Sleep,” Miko said, “and know that you are loved.”
Every ounce of violence and every bit of energy left Nova in a blink of an eye. Stumbling, he mumbled something incoherently under his breath before dropping to the deck.
Slowly, the purple lightning ceased to strike, the savage beasts no longer swarmed, and the ash-gray clouds that produced such a perfect display faded into the ever-darkening night.
When the violence ended, screams and cries of pain and fear filled the air.
“Suh-Sir,” Odin gasped as the Elf drew closer. “Ih-Ih-It huh-huh-hurts.”
“Sleep, Odin,” Miko said, setting a hand on his bloodied chest. “You have nothing to be afraid of.”
The last thing Odin saw before his eyes clouded was his master’s face.
2
“Odin… Odin… Wake up, Odin. Wake up.”
He opened his eyes to find the Elf standing over his bed. His first instinct was to wonder why he had gone to bed so early despite the fact that it appeared as though his knight master needed him. However, in the short moments that followed, memories of what had happened earlier began to flash before him in slow motion, as if he were repeatedly replaying the horror that had taken place that very evening.
“Is… is Nova okay?” he asked.
“He’s fine,” Miko said, running a hand over Odin’s brow. “You should be worried about yourself, not Nova.”
“I don’t…”
Multiple waves of pain showered his body.
Odin looked down. Both of his arms were covered in layers of cloth.
“How… how bad are they?” he asked.
“Bad enough to where I had to sew them together to make sure they’d heal properly.”
“Can I see?”
“No. For one, I spent a fair amount of time wrapping those bandages so the open air wouldn’t get on them and into your wounds. And for two, I’d rather you not see them—at least not now, while you’re still upset.”
“I’m fine,” Odin said. “Really, I—”
Miko shook his head. “No.”
With that, Odin crawled out of bed and made his way to his knight master’s side.
“It’s all right,” Miko said, setting a hand on Odin’s lower back.
“No it isn’t. So many men died out there. I should’ve used my magic.”
“No. You shouldn’
t have.”
“What?” Odin asked.
“You were worried enough about Nova when all that was going on. How could you have used magic to save others if you were only concerned about one?”
“I…” Odin sighed. Finding nothing to say, he turned and finally let loose a series of tears that, though silent, streamed down his face and formed rivulets along his cheeks.
Miko reached forward, set his hands on both of Odin’s shoulders, and pulled him into an embrace. “There,” the Elf whispered, holding him close. “Everything will be fine. You’re both safe.”
“Where is he?”
“In another room, being tended to by other sailors.” Miko tilted Odin’s head up so they could look at one another. “Don’t worry. He wasn’t hurt.”
“Are you sure?”
“The worse he probably has is a case of the shakes, if that.”
“Why isn’t he here, with us?”
“I wanted to pay attention to you, so I asked if someone else could care for him. I also didn’t want Nova to wake up and fly into hysterics when he saw your arms.”
“Would he remember what he did?”
“I believe he would. I know nothing of the siren’s song erasing men’s memories.”
After pulling away from the embrace and taking a moment to console himself, Odin walked back to the bed and settled down atop it. He set the topmost blanket over his lap, but remained upright and instead leaned against the headrest. “What attacked us,” he said, turning to look back at his master. “They’re… women of the sea, right?”
Although he knew his question would be unexpected, he wanted to steer the conversation in another direction—in a place where he could at least learn from this event instead of suffering from it. He didn’t want to think of Nova and how he’d torn his arms apart.
“Yes,” Miko said, setting a hand over one of the headrest’s intricate knobs. “Have you read of them?”
“Not a whole lot. They were mentioned in some of my textbooks, but I’d like to know more if you’re willing to tell me.”
“So long as you’re willing to listen, then yes, I’ll tell you.”
