Siren's Silence

Chapter 9: Home

James

My sleep was disrupted by the loud banging of a bell, whooping, and the racket of heavy footfalls on the wood flooring. I tumbled out of my hammock, slamming into the unyielding floor. Grumbling and cursing, I stood, threw on a jacket, and scrambled out the door. I tumbled up to the top deck and looked around. Dawn had not yet broken, but gray predawn light filled the sky, causing the stars to fade. Normally, there would only be a skeleton crew up at this time: a few lookouts, one man (or woman in the case of this craft) at the wheel, and a few men up in the ropes to keep the ship's riggings in check.

This morning, that wasn't the case. The deck was teeming with men, both my crew and Siren's, looking over the bow of the ship at a massive rock cliff that it seemed we were sailing straight toward. Siren's crew were excitedly bouncing around, I had never seen them this energetic. My crew, however, were all either flustered or downright terrified. I shared their feelings.

The cliff grew ever the larger the closer we encroached, and Siren, who was at the wheel, wasn't changing direction or pace.

Something must have shown on my face because not a moment later I got a heavy slap on the back from a broadly grinning Parker. "You look like you've just seen a ghost!" He bellowed jovially. "What seems to be the trouble, Captain Merkott?"

"No trouble, except that we are suicidally charging solid rock!" I barked.

Parker half-smiled, "You have been on this ship for over a month, do you truly believe that Siren would guide this craft and this crew through a storm, destroy Wolf Ships, rescue the most wanted crew in these waters, then crash her precious ship into a cliff?"

I frowned, "She's done stranger things, according to the stories."

Parker guffawed and slapped my back again, "And how many of those come out to be true, eh? Just sit back and watch. She'll surprise you."

"She usually does," I muttered under my breath as he strode off.

I felt a change in the ship. We were accelerating. I looked back at Siren again. Her face had become a mask of concentration, with her eyes narrowed and her mouth now a hard line. Her hands were wrapped tightly around the spurs of the wheel. She barely moved until the sun had long since risen, casting its midday light across the shining sea and the cliff now towered above us, casting a terrifying, dark shadow over the craft.

Suddenly, the Griffin twisted hard one way, then the other. Siren's hands flew over the wheel in a blur as she dodged some unseen obstacle course. Slowly, a massive crack in the granite cliff face appeared. Siren straightened the craft and charged directly toward it. In a heartbeat, the canvas sails were stowed and the ship glided into the crevice. I stared up at the high stone walls and noticed that the crossbars on the masts barely missed them. Siren expertly guided the ship through the dangerous passage and out the other side.

I squinted as the Griffin broke into daylight once more. When my eyes adjusted, I was shocked speechless.

What had been sheer gray rock on the outside was now a beautiful sloping green landscape leading down from the high walls down to the white sand beach surrounding a beautiful protected bay. The island appeared to be almost perfectly round. The wall they had just slipped through was a sheer cliff, just like the outside, but it only made up less than a third of the island's inside rim. The sheer cliff turned to a steep hillside that became shallower at the center of the circle directly across from the entry way. Nestled in the protective arms of the natural wall was a town that seemed to be almost sleeping, with only a few people moving about.

A loud trumpet sounded from the town, answered by a great many voices cheering as the place suddenly came alive with people charging out of seemingly nowhere. The crew aboard the Griffin were waving to them. I assumed they were friends and family judging by thier enthusiasm. Some of the men were nearly falling over the ship's railing trying to reach their loved ones.