Adarna

Chapter 1

Seagulls cried overhead as sails crested the horizon. Robin was the first to see them, perched as he was on one of the high wooden beams supporting the roof of the bell-tower. Initially, he assumed that these were just the usual fishing boats pulling back into port, having recognised the distinctive shape of Mr Kalley's vessel among the group. Sunlight glinted off of the calm ocean surface in scintillating flashes of gold and blue, rippling as the boughs of the ships cut through the water.

The scene lulled him. He was only partially aware of a cry that sounded from below, followed by a clamour of cheers. Within moments, the patter of bare feet sounded up the steps. A boy crashed into the room. A moment later—

DING. DING. DING. DING...

The sound sent Robin reeling backwards, almost falling off his perch. His arms pinwheeled for a moment as he tilted off balance, before his right hand found purchase on another support beam. He gripped it tensely, waiting to see whether his sudden movements above had alerted the boy below to his presence, but the four loud rings poured over the town in a reverberating echo, and the sound of Robin's scuffle was drowned out. At that moment, Robin could have dropped right in front of the boy draped in the patchwork robes of a priest of Hisvri, juggling fire and speaking backwards, and the boy still would not have given him more than a cursory glance. He took a deep breath, tasting the salt on the air blowing in off the coast. Four rings. The heavy pounding of his heart stuttered for a moment before returning in full force, fuelled by realisation. A flutter lit up in his stomach, crawling its way into his chest.

They had come back. The Sailors had returned.

He turned away from gap through which he had been watching the waves, allowing his eyes to readjust to the dark interior of his hiding place. He blinked rapidly. No one knew he was there. He was technically not even allowed inside the building, after the incident the year before. Despite this, he always found a way to sneak back in. Em teased him for it relentlessly, asking what was so good about the musty old place. Rory was more cynical, and urged him to find another job instead of lingering around the old one.

Well, the bell-tower could no longer technically be considered old, after the recent repairs, which consisted of... rebuilding the entire structure. But Robin had to concede that Em's musty point still stood. The smell had a way of permeating through the building no matter how often it was aired out and cleaned. But the smell was also familiar and laced with memories. So time and time again Robin slunk back, claiming that his fondness for the place was because of the view. It was, in part. The bell-tower was the tallest building in his small sea-town, which made it an excellent place for the musings and longings that so often accompanied a solitary soul.

-

Crowds flocked the streets, a bustling mixture of excited youths tearing at each other to try get their first glimpse of the sailors, and others, more hesitating but equally desperate, pushing forward to see if their family had made it home. Upon a closer look, most of the ships had been fishing boats, as Robin had first presumed. They had all turned in to accompany a single ship and guide it on its last stretch home. The Siren.

The ship made for a ghastly sight. Sails and banners flapped uselessly in the wind, torn so badly that Robin wondered how it had carried itself to port. The body of the ship was in an equally bad state. Broken beams leant over the side, masts were split or splintered, and deep gouges had been ripped out of the sides of the hull. The entire ship seemed to lie at a precarious tilt, as if someone had moved every box, load, and heavy object to the right side of the ship. As if Kaselennon had hooked a teasing finger over the side of the vessel, tempting it towards his domain.

To the newer members of the town, the children, the vacationers and the passers-through, this was a sight that humbled and silenced. Groups of people fell quiet, while others let out hollow gasps. But those few were far outnumbered by those who had grown up by this coast, who were now screaming out in celebration. Several people whooped, a woman started crying and laughing as she hugged a neighbour. A young man threw his baby brother into the air, then spun around with him as he caught him. Joy echoed through the streets, carried by people who had seen far, far worse; people who had seen nothing at all. People who, more often than not, divined the loss of their loved ones by a piece of driftwood washing up to shore.