"Strangled Siren" by Emily Kirsch

But when she looked up at me after a moment of silence, and when I saw the death in her eyes, I turned and walked away.

. . .

"Sweetness, wake up. You were having a nightmare."

She opened her eyes, but only to see that the woolen scratchiness of sleep-induced haze obscured the rest of the room. Cascades of amber curls slept against her linen-clothed shoulders; a few tendrils coiled about her forehead and trickled along the edges of her sight, but she didn’t bother to brush them away. Her eyes rose lasily to the woman standing over her.

"Was I?" she asked, and the woman nodded, offering her a half-smile.

"Inedra, my darling, you were screaming and throwing an absolute fit. I was sure you’d throw yourself out of bed and we’d be dealing with a bit more than tangled sheets." A dry laugh dribbled from the woman’s lips and she turned, busying herself with straightening the curtains that fluttered around the open window. The sweet tang of sea-air hit Inedra’s nose.

"Don’t worry yourself, Rylara. I can clean up."

The woman didn’t seem to need much more direction. She glanced once more at Inedra then stepped through the doorway.

Inedra pushed herself from the bed and spent a few moments recollecting, though nothing clear came to her.

She shivered and pulled what little blankets remained on the bed tighter around her, though she knew even if she did stall on starting her chores they would pile up at night and she’d be stuck sifting through rocks with the moon hanging over her shoulder. She fluttered her eyelashes in exhaustion. Yesterday’s work was all too tangible. Her eyes fell down to her callus-ridden hands and she wrinkled up her nose in disgust. She grimaced as she imagined those hands holding the fine silks she knew she’d see at the market that day, and in her disgust she knew her work would be without daydreams.

After going through the mechanical braiding of her hair and straightening of her room she emerged into the foyer of the house. Rylara—her sister—was standing in the far corner, gazing out the window. The fire was long forgotten; embers didn’t even struggle to stay alive in the pit. A shrill breeze had found its way into the air and made each breath Inedra took seem frosty. She bit her lip and took a step forward, causing the hardwood floor’s boards to creek and Rylara to turn.

"Watch yourself out there, sweetness."

Inedra nodded.

"Find us a pearl today, no?"

She nodded once more, but didn’t move to the door until Rylara had turned again.

The morning was still. They didn’t have many neighbours; the only road that lead to their house was a rugged road that was littered with small serrated rocks that had found their way up from the oceans many years ago. The road cut through a larger one that led to town, but if one didn’t turn it led to a sprawling beach that extended for a good few miles. It was there Inedra was headed.

Her pace sped as thoughts of the magnificent wares the merchants would be bringing that afternoon to the market flew through her mind; if she wasn’t able to finish by the time the sun was directly overhead she knew her work would slow from there and she’d never get a chance to see her only glimpse of the outside world. Her fingers tightened upon the basket in her hand.

As soon as her feet left the gravely texture of the path and met the grainy, soft feel of the sand she felt a burden lift from her shoulders. The ocean’s shores were more her home than a building of murdered trees and decorations that were meant to be pleasing to the eye. All bitter thoughts left her, though, when the music of the waves’ crashing kissed her ears.

The clear, frothy blue of the waves’ crests banged violently down upon the sandy beach, swallowing the seaweed it had before shoved ashore and dragging it back to a momentary grave. The violence was contradicted, though, by the glistening of polished rocks underneath the turbulence of the waves. They drew the sun’s rays in and magnified them, creating a shine far greater than the smile of a person in love. Inedra’s heart fluttered as she looked at them. Her job was to pick out the most beautiful ones—which was getting harder and harder—to sell as fake jewels. She never understood how her sister could make a rosy, cloudy-smooth stone look like a ruby in a matter of hours, but she would never question it.

As soon as she bent down to work, music brought up with the tide swam through the air and to her lips, demanding to be sung. She closed her throat to the notes at first, but after mere moments her voice was escalating with the natural prowess of the waves and her work was more enjoyable. She shuffled through the ocean’s pull, clinging to the sandy bottom with her toes so as not to lose her balance. For the first few minutes she concentrated only on the pitch of the melody she was crooning to the sea, and when it pleased her ears she dropped her gaze down to the rocks, searching with a practiced eye for one that held just the right amount of beauty.

The sun swam through the sky, going through each proper position before pausing just almost overhead, when Inedra was near done filling her basket. She lifted the back of her palm to her mouth and trapped a yawn inside before taking note of a slight sunburn on the ridges of her cheeks. A grimace preceded the steps that brought her away from the waves, and she fell back against the sweet white sand, deciding to herself that she needed a break.

As if on impulse her song returned to her. Her throat widened and her eyes fell shut against the force of the music, which radiated out of her lips in sounds more than words. She felt nothing less than raw energy pumping through her veins and a euphoria of sorts followed along behind, clinging to her at first but with the force of the next note it carefully let go and swirled out across the ocean, churning and dancing with the waves. Inedra felt a comforting blanket of serenity as other imaginary voices joined hers, forming a crystalline choral that radiated on for miles around her. An underlying unease tickled at the soles of her feet and she felt goosepimples rise up on her arms every so often; she oftentimes ignored this, for a swirling rise of musical ecstasy followed straight afterward.

Lost in her thoughts and visions of mermaids swimming to her music deep in the ocean’s depths, and who would rise up and bring her pearls to continue her beautiful singing, she hardly noticed that a ship, not too far off in the distance, was veering sharply toward a small islet of towering, jagged rocks that was haphazardly placed in its path. Her voice did nothing more than escalate.

The notes traveled father across the ocean and sept into the ships’ boards, imbuing them with the sweet music. The crew of the ship stumbled clumsily to the railing and away from their posts, straining their eyes against the ocean mist to see who was making the enchanting noise. They thought they saw the alluring, singing woman standing on a rock a few measures away; the ship’s deck turned to chaos as one stumbled another and a nose broke here and a rope tripped there as they all struggled to get a glimpse of her. When they thought they saw her lift a hand and beckon them closer an order was given and the ship was immediately turned toward their musical love, and to the ship’s destruction.

The captain was asleep below deck, but when the music crept up through the floorboards and met his ears he did not succumb to the melody, for even though the strength it held was powerful it was untrained. A new voice, but a voice he knew to belong to a siren. He rolled blankets about his palms and clapped them over his ears, taking smooth steps up the stairs that led to the upper decks.

When he emerged he first saw the crew lost and dazed, imagining themselves entangled in the siren’s grip in one way or another, each finding their own personal fantasy and playing it out to the tune and beat of the music set in front of them. He lifted his eyes and looked toward where the boat was heading, but it was unclear at first for they were pointed toward the sun. The glare shimmered across his sight and when it faded the towering form of a rock loomed over them. His mouth dropped open and he was unable to move; the terror over took him and he fell to his knees, his blanket-wrapped hands falling with him. The music met his ears and he was taken away with the music, disappearing into the desire-inducing tones.

Inedra opened her eyes just then, and her song stopped with a last, faltering note. A boat in the distance was feet away from hitting the rock and she was barely able to take two steps when the crunch of wood against stone shattered the last whispers of her song. She fell to her knees as shouts and the sound of men throwing themselves into the water issued across the ocean and over to her; she was only able to press her hands to her cheeks as fewer and fewer of the men that jumped over the ship’s rail emerged from the ocean’s depths. The boat had shattered down one side and was just beginning to tilt over when she heard the first of a shout behind her. Inedra looked over her shoulder to see townspeople tearing down the path—it was beyond her how they had seen the accident from town—and racing along the shore beside her. She stood up hastily, dropping her basket full of stones upon the sand. They spilt gracefully from their wicker embrace and melted back into the silky white grains, disappearing from sight.

When she looked back up she saw that a boat had been sent from shore and out into the turbulent waters. Orders were flung over her head and people hardly noticed her as they scurried by, though most watched from a good distance back, wringing their hands together as futile attempts to save the crew were being made. Inedra stuttered a few words when someone asked her what had happened, but when she saw that the first man had been drug ashore she stumbled backward and through the crowds of people, turning only when she was sure no one was watching. With a muffled cry she clutched her basket to her chest and ran up the path and back to her house.

. . .

The man looked on the chaos below him with a smug smile. His hands were carefully clasped behind his back and they moved only to pat the black cloak he wore down again; only his eyes made any sort of motion, otherwise.

His smile grew as the knowledge sank in. He had waited years to find her, and this accident had been more than the proof he needed. An almost relieved laugh tinged the back of his throat but he quieted himself, contenting in watching the blue faces of the sailors being drug ashore. Her music had hit him strongly but he was able to resist the temptation of running to her and embracing her—the time for that would come. She was his siren. His beautiful siren.

With one more look at the direction she had ran, then two more at the destruction she had caused he stepped from the rock he was standing on and walked toward town.

Her time would come.

. . .

"What happened?"

"I was just singing, Rylara. Just singing. And the boat, the boat, it—it crashed—it crashed . . ."

"It crashed?"

Inedra nodded furiously, lower lip trembling with trapped tears. Her voice had grown hoarse and she could barely force herself to make the words come out. Her fingers were still wrapped tight upon the basket and she feared she would rip it to shreds in her frustration.

"You’re not making any sense, sweetness. A boat couldn’t just crash upon a rock because you were singing. Did you see it happen?"

"No, no, no I didn’t! I was, I was just singing—"

Rylara reached out and pressed a hand to her forehead, and even though she felt no more heat than she usually did she clicked her tongue against the back of her teeth.

"You need to rest, darling dear. We can go collect rocks together in the morning, and I’ll make sure you don’t sing so no more boats crash, alright?"

Inedra’s shoulders shook with the force it took to keep her tears in, but she allowed herself to be led into her room by her sister. Once she was curled up under the scratchy covers she felt an even heavier dread settle upon her, rather than the comforting feel the moments right before sleep brought. Even though, she shut her eyes tightly, trying to block out the replaying sight of the boat making jarring contact with the rock. The crack of wood and shouts of sailors still echoed inside of her head and it was all she could do to force herself into sleep.

. . .

. . .

A board creaked and he knew her eyes had opened, but he was shrouded in shadows so he still moved, unseen, through the house. A heavy sea wind moaned outside that helped somewhat in obscuring the soggy thuds of his boots upon the wooden floor, but the house had chosen to creak at just the moment when the winds’ moans had silenced. He had not heard her stir, but his steps grew unconsciously quieter, leaving as much room for foreign sound as was able.

Between his hands he held a length of thick midnight blue cord taught, which he constantly untwirled and retwirled about his palms. The power pulsating through the string tainted his fingers with its thick stench, but his steps were unaffected and steady as he moved across the floor.

When he stopped in her doorway he could see her straining her eyes against the dark, but he held still and watched her from there, even though he knew that if he was standing a breath away from her she still would not be able to see him. A smile met his lips again and he took a carefully measured step forward, slitting the air with his manicured presence. She tensed under her covers and he saw her shrink down; the power she held as a siren certainly didn’t taint her regular life. Satisfaction coursed through his veins as he neared her, but it was only when he was hovering over her still form that he felt complete dominance.

Her breathtaking grey-blue eyes looked directly at him through the thick veil of darkness but they never saw him. He untwined the cord from his hand, letting it dangle from the other, and lowered his fingers down, brushing them across the air above her cheek. She pursed her lips together and he stepped back hard, causing the darkness to explode silently away, like the feathers of a dandelion flower not yet matured. She sat up with a start and had almost screamed when he stepped forward, pulling the string about her neck. She immediately became quiet.

He did not have to do much other than tie a loose but effective knot to keep the two ends of the strings together for the cord to do its work. He stepped back and watched her hands fly up to her neck, flailing clumsily about the cord but never quite reaching the knot in the back. She looked at him with pleading eyes and whimpered noiselessly, looking surprised when shortly afterward a note as beautiful as the ones she had sung earlier, on the shore, issued from her lips. Believing she had regained her voice she opened her mouth to belt out a scream, but her ears were met with only a sweet aria of voice that never formed words, only lilting noises that merged quietly with the darkness. Her fingers scrambled around her throat and lips again, but she was not able to make more than the sweet song.

The man smiled darkly and feigned a round of applause, during which she grew silent, looking at him through fawn lashes, pleading her release. He shook her head and stepped toward her, making her recoil into the covers until she had no further to go. He placed a single finger upon her lips and let a, "Shh," trickle from between his teeth. She didn’t dare strike out or try to catch his wrist, he noticed, and smiled inwardly. The cord was working far better than he had planned.

He stepped back from her and offered a hand. When she did not accept it he reached out and wrapped his palm around her frail upper arm, yanking her from her bed and pulling her along behind him. The shadows encased him once more, reaching out to silence her steps, as well, and they left the house without a single trace of noise behind them.

The man pulled her down to the ocean’s shore, where the waves’ crashing had dulled to a monotone drone that echoed along the beach like banshee’s laments to a long-deceased household. A bird cried in the distance, but as quiet as the waves were, his dirge was drowned.

The beach held an air of quiet about it that she had never felt before. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and her insides quake with fear, but she followed the man as if she knew no other way. She was unable to control where her feet were taking her, but that was of no matter to her. Her voice was gone . . . made into the one she loved so much that afternoon; even through the boat’s crashing she had loved it. Even now she loved it, and was tempted to try a note or two but the man’s grip on her arm tightened whenever a tune rose in her throat.

They had just neared the place where she had sat still and silent as the ship met its demise when the man pulled her in front of him, causing her to stumble on the silky sand. He put his hands on either sides of her neck, gripping down so hard she grimaced and was made to bite hard on her lip to keep herself from crying out.

"You saw what happened, didn’t you? You saw the death that ship was brought to. Not a single man on that boat survived. Do you know why? No, I don’t expect you to—you wouldn’t even think that it was you who caused it, now, would you? They were each so lost in their fantasies of the woman who had that sultry, enchanting voice that they had no will to live. They wanted to drown, if only they could become one with the woman in their minds, but the only lady they will court now will be the sea’s precious bottom.

"You watched them drown. You saw the sea claim each men as they were dragged ashore, or as they flung themselves from the ship’s drowning wreckage. But you ran from them, siren! You ran! What sort of thing is that for you to do? I should think you would have figured out by then what you were, but you didn’t. You crawled into your bed and dreamed of what now seems so horrible to you. Ah, but I am not complaining. Your talent is of so much use to me, my sweet siren. You have no idea."

His lips crept closer to her ears and her eyes shuddered close when his icy breath hissed inside her. Though the tone of his voice was somewhat comforting, the words he spoke chilled her to the inside of her bone.

"Your voice is filled with the magic to enchant any man. I intend to use that to bring them to the very verge, but let them crash and fall so they will come running with their wallets for more and more. You are capable of so many things that you do not know . . . to think, if I’d have never found you, you would be spending your days picking rocks from off the ocean’s bed. And what sort of life is that for a siren? Ah, but no mind. It is over and done with. Sleep, my dear. We will leave tomorrow."

With the last of his words her terror subsided and she felt her knees collapse underneath her. Her eyelids felt heavy and she let out a last breath before she succumbed to a sleep much darker than the one she had been encased in only moments before.

. . .

She woke to the raucous noise of what sounded to be a busy marketplace. Before she opened her eyes she felt around herself—mentally—in vain for anything that was reminiscent of her home. She almost cried with the realisation that she could not even feel the ocean.

"Mm, you’re awake," said an unfamiliar female voice. Inedra struggled to open her eyes and when her lids finally parted the first thing she saw was a face with a faint bluish tint framed by cascading white hair hovering over her. Inedra opened her mouth to demand who she was, but an equally white-blue hand reached up to clap over her mouth. The woman glanced to her side, as if expecting someone to come, but no one did so she returned her attention back to Inedra.

"I know who you are, and your siren-ing won’t have any say on how I act. I’m Eeva, and you need to be quite, else Alec will come back and see that he makes you quiet himself. Do you understand me?"

Inedra managed a nod.

"Good. Now, sit up. You’re just about to go on." Eeva looked once more over her shoulder at where Inedra guessed the door must be, and when she glanced to see Inedra hadn’t moved she stood up and strode outside.

Inedra rose hesitantly, feeling around the surface she was laying on. When she looked down she found she had been clothed in a flowing white dress that clung to her in most places but shifted and flowed whenever she moved. Confusion mixed up all the thoughts and whatever conclusions she was reaching in her head, and even though she wished she could fall upon the ground and weep she found she hardly had the strength to. Instead deciding to look about herself she wiped the forming tears from her eyes and lifted her gaze to her surroundings.

She seemed to be in a tent of sorts, one whose sides seemed to waver in the wind, but she almost caught herself swaying and causing everything around her to seem to move, as well. She lifted her hands to her head and pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to make the dream she wished she was in go away, but her efforts were quenched when the tent’s door fluttered and in stepped the man that had taken her the night before—Alec, by what Eeva had said. The stomach-wrenching fear returned and it was all she could do to remain on her feet but she was able to—tossing back her shoulders with a stately air she knew to only be half effective.

"Very nice, siren, very nice. You will impress the crowd, that’s for sure." He moved near her and rested the back of his hand against her cheek, pressing lightly down upon her skin. "I have waited years for you, siren. For this moment. I have longed to hear your voice, to see the effects it has on other people . . . I wish I had known where you were, sooner. Perhaps, by now, you’d have grown to love me." Alec looked at her with an almost wistful gaze, but he shook it away when the cries from outside—which Inedra had since drowned out—returned with full force.

"Sing as well as you did when the boat crashed, my dear, and you will live another night." He flashed her another dark smile and took up her wrist again, pulling her outside.

She stumbled through the flap and was immediately met by whoops and hollers. A gyrating mass of men grouped around the tiny tent, forming a half circle around her. Their screams rose to a deafening howl before dropping off to silence when Alec stepped up behind her and began speaking.

"Ladies and gentlemen—or, more like, gentlemen and gentlemen; I assume we’ve all left our wives at home—" this comment gained a few cat-whistles and the group laughed together in their excitement "—I bring you the finest gem the ocean can supply. A siren, brought away from her sea-side home to provide luscious entertainment for you, my fine friends! Ah, but if you dare try and touch this rare pearl I should have to make sure I take proper liberty in removing your hands or your more . . . delicate parts. Let the show begin!"

The applause near drowned Inedra, making the bile Alec’s comments had induced in her throat rise farther up. She clutched at her stomach and looked helplessly at Alec, who only gritted his teeth together but did not step up to help her. She shut her eyes as the world spun violently around her, and did not open them again until she felt the icy touch of Alec’s hand upon her shoulder.

"Sing, ocean-wench, or I shall strangle you here and now," came the comment, hissing through her body and tearing her limb from limb. She moaned her pain, but it came out only as a long, clear note, which shattered the obscenity of the throng of men and made it dissipate in the heady air. Relief and . . . comfort. Her music brought comfort.

Without waiting another moment she threw back her head and let out the melody she’d heard sung by a long lost friend many years back explode from out her lips. The whole song wasn’t clear, but the bits and pieces she remembered she used to form a song that, within minutes, had every man’s eyes closed and even some on their knees, arms extended to her. She smiled through the notes and it was only when a few of the men on the edges began creeping toward her that Alec came up behind her again, tugging on the cord around her neck and causing her voice to still. The last note she sang hung tentatively in the air before faltering and shattering at her feet, causing the men to shudder through a last moment of ecstasy before waking from their trance and hastily shuffling through their pockets to find the proper amount of money to be allowed one more song. Inedra turned to look over her shoulder at Alec in what was a mix between confusion and relief. He smiled a knowing smile at her and she turned back around, readying herself for another song.

. . .

Towns, faces, months passed. Alec’s hold on Inedra grew and she was more than willing to go in front of the mass of writhing men to exploit her voice, for the power she held over them gave her a sense of supremacy that she had never felt when living with her sister. The ocean’s tug had been strong for the first few weeks but she had learned to ignore it and to only draw on it when she needed to revive and fuel her voice to make the men faint and weaken to her song.

"My siren," Alec said, one night when the crowd has since thinned and all that was left was the two around the fire in front of their tent; "We must leave." Inedra lifted her head and gazed at him with a questioning look, only to find a smile lacing across his lips. He let a laugh billow into the night air, tossing his ebon head back into the dark. "We have traveled the towns once and thrice again, my sweet. We need new lands to prey upon . . . new lands across the sea."

Hearing that one word sparked Inedra’s memory. She felt a longing boil in her stomach and for a moment she forgot of the voice she had grown so accustomed and she tried to thank him—the words only came out as a shrill, discordant note that filled the air with its vigor. A brow perked on Alec’s shadowed forehead but he only reached out and rested a hand upon her knee, and although his lips held no trace of a smile his eyes coruscated madly in the firelight, emanating a sense of pure joy. He merely looked at her for a few minutes, reveling in the silence after the piercing note she had made, and when he began again he studied her face for any small hint at what she was thinking.

"You will sing one more song in this town—you realise, my dear, that this was the first you started in—and I will gather up a crew and boat, and we will leave that night. Across the ocean, Inedra. Imagine the things we will find." He squeezed her knee gently and sat back, breathing in the thick, fire-smoked air.

Inedra watched him carefully, trying to find any small hint that he might be lying. His eyes remained trained upon the sky above and when he made no indication that he would continue talking to her she dropped her eyes to the firelight, satisfying herself by disappearing in memories of rocks that turned into rubies overnight . . .

. . .

"Last night, Inedra! Your last night on this land. Sing, my pearl. Blow them away. I will be back when you’re finished with a boat and crew. Will you be able to manage? Eeva will be in the tent, I believe, unless she goes off somewhere." Alec stepped away from her and ran his fingers over crates of clothing and provisions, eyes scrambling over each item as he made a mental inventory of what he needed to get. When he looked to the siren she only nodded; he noticed that her expression was rather hard to read but he accounted this to the fact that he was in a hurry.

"The money has been collected. One song, two at the most. I will see you by the time the moon’s up, alright?"

Inedra forced a smile upon her lips but Alec didn’t see. He patted the pockets of his cloak and smoothed his hair before turning around, stepping through the tent flap without even another cursory glance to her.

She followed after him before glancing at her reflection in the mirror. Her before-pale skin had turned a deeper sun brown, one she had never seen during her days at the cloudy, often overcast ocean town she grew up at. Her fingers trailed across the lighter amber-curls that had been tied back from her face to reveal eyes that had lost the cloudy sea grey and which had turned a delicate sky blue. She hardly felt comfortable with her reflection and she turned, trying to ignore the fact that her heart thundered inside of her chest. She spent a moment concentrating on her breathing rather than thinking of the song she was going to sing.

Eeva emerged from a back entrance in the tent and as soon as Inedra made note of her she moved through the front flap, not wanting to talk to the woman and feeling that the sooner she completed her songs the sooner she would be able to see her dear ocean once more.

The crowd greeted her with a wild scream that grew into the all too familiar roar that made her feel like she was drowning in the noise until it cleared away and she was able to breathe again. She began singing before she made note of the different faces in the crowd. She had been taught to gauge the expressions and tell whether she had gone too far with her song, and when she had to cut off the note just when the men had given up the fact that they were either married or seeing someone to throw themselves at her. Her music climbed the scale before crashing down, swirling into a euphoric trail of harmonies that were impossible to craft with a normal voice. Her chest swelled as her lungs pumped air in and out, fueling the strength needed to expel the notes.

Silence overtook the crowd and they all swayed to their own beat, tangled in the web of her notes. The faint pleasure of what she could make them do still tumbled about in her head but it was lost when her eyes graced a man standing in the front row, looking completely unaffected by the music.

Chocolate brown hair was smoothed back from an elegant, aristocrat’s face that seemed only mildly interested in her performance, rather than the one that sat atop the body that was usually reeling from desire. His arms were crossed over a chest clothed in a simple black vest, and his stance suggested that he was watching only, perhaps, a child relative that he had paid to see simply to support them, when, in truth, he was thinking of much more exciting things to do with his day once he finished listening to their shrill croon old sea shanties. Upon seeing this Inedra tapped into the well of harmonious energy and lust-inducing arias that she hadn’t dared climb near since the day the ship drowned. She fed her voice into a song more beautiful than mortal ears had ever heard, her eyes ever-trained upon the refined, untouched man that only watched her.

Pain crept through her throat, demanding that the song be stopped for fear she tear her vocal box loose with the strain of upholding the notes that graced the upper hand of her limits, but she never ceased the melody that rushed out from her lips. Her nails dug into her palms and droplets of blood formed against them and she felt herself lose control of the melody. It tore itself from her chest and exploded in noises that shredded the muscles of her stomach and throat, taking on a life of its own. She wavered against the force of it and she felt faint, and when she tried to scream it only came out as a note that shattered the air before falling in a rush to the ground, trapping all of the men and pulling them toward her.

Inedra’s mouth gaped open as the song spilled down her chin, but the man didn’t notice her pleading eyes. He watched with tinges of concern about the corners of his lips but he didn’t move forward, and only then she noticed that the gyrating mass of men was slowly creeping toward her. Arms and legs flailed out from the edges of the half-circle, tugging on her garments and soaking in her voice. She struggled against her voice but her will was not her own. Hands crept up her shins and past her knees, down her elbows and to her wrists, trapping her in her own web of power.

Darkness broke through the light of her song, then, and Alec stepped up beside her and pulled so tight on the cord about her neck that the pain of it digging into her neck broke the melody in half, and although it continued for minutes afterward it fell down and down the mountain of energy she had created until it lay, panting and crumpled, at the bottom. Inedra collapsed upon the ground, chest heaving with the energy drained from her.

She was not even allowed a moment of peace, though, when she felt a strong arm lifting her up from the ground. She whined, but it only came out as a rusted breath of air that fluttered like a dead leaf from a tree that lacked even more life. Alec drew her near him and his words resonated inside of her ears.

"Foolish bitch! Do you understand what you could have done? Do you know that the power you just expelled is enough to crash twenty boats at the same time? But you waste it on a street performance! You waste it on drunken men who don’t have the right to even be in your presence!" Alec shook her a few times, then backed away to look her directly in the eyes. A fire pulsated behind his pupils and she felt her exhaustion melt away to let a dulled terror replace it. "Get your things together. We’re leaving before sun-up." He clenched his fingers around her arm before pushing her away, striding into the tent.

Inedra swayed where she stood and looked out to the crowd of men, who had seemed to disappear. All but the man who had been untouched, who stood in exactly the position he had when she last looked. He was watching her but she could not tell his expression from where she stood. Silence echoed around them, and it was she who first moved when a wave of nausea swept down over her. She stumbled away from where she stood and into the tent, not knowing that the man had followed behind her until she turned to sit down on her bed. Her mouth opened to ask him what he wanted even though she knew all that would follow would be music—but Alec stepped in through the back and questioned him first.

"Can I help you, sir?"

The man feigned a smile that must have been practiced for hours, and swept into a too-florid bow. Alec didn’t react until the man spoke.

"Good eve, m’lord. My name is Ian R’dair, and I overheard you talking to the—ah, the siren, I assume?—saying that you needed a crew? I’m an able sailor and I would be more than appreciative if you allowed me to journey with you. I have too long been in this town and I wouldn’t even ask for a cent to come along, but I’d help out to the best of my abilities."

Alec narrowed his eyes at the man and he seemed to obscurely sniff the air every once and a while, as if, perhaps, he was trying to decide if the man was being truthful or not. Inedra watched the man with what could have been considered awe, and she barely caught the irregular intervals when the man tossed his gaze over to her. The rest of their conversation was lost, however, when Alec took Ian’s elbow and led him into the back part of the tent, away from Inedra’s sight. She went about collecting the few items she owned and putting them into a small satchel that Alec had provided for her, but her work was half-hearted and she deliberately made it slow going.

When she had finished she simply sat, forcing herself not to reminisce about the ocean she was sure she’d soon see. She stood when Alec re-entered alone, seeming a considerable amount happier than he had been before. He walked over to her and took her hand without saying anything, leading her away from the home she had known for the past few months.

Alec loosed her hand, expecting her to follow him as he moved down the streets of the city. Darkness fell like a cloak over the town, transforming trees and bushes into looming shapes of nightmares undreamed. Inedra stepped softly along the path, bare feet sensitive to every small rock or pebble that she happened to place her foot upon. Her winces lessened as their trek promised no relenting, but her concentration on not falling in the dark ushered away all thoughts—good or bad—of her home or the trip ahead of them.

It seemed hours before Alec paused ahead of her; she stopped a few measures behind him before moving up near his arm. He glanced momentarily at her then stepped forward, parting a few trees’ branches and tilting to see through. He made a muffled noise of delight and turned to grab Inedra’s arm, pulling her up next to him to see through, as well.

A boat tinted a grand mahogany colour—apparent even in the little light the full moon provided—swam before her eyes. It was not large in comparison to some of the ships she had seen in her small town, but the magnificence and sheer grace it held dwarfed even the surrounding nature. She felt the branches tremble around her as Alec stepped through, holding his arms out wide once in the clearing the river ran up against.

"Isn’t it beautiful, my siren? Isn’t it unbelievable?"

He spun in a circle but Inedra’s attention had shifted to Ian, who was emerging from the boat’s deck. He seemed to look through Alec and to her, first, but when Alec noticed him and strode up the boat’s gangplank Ian accept the clap on the back he gave him and smiled the same fake smile he had used in the tent.

"Inedra!" Alec called, and turned back to look at her. "Come, my dear! This will be your home for the next few weeks. We are traveling across the world."

. . .

The salty rush of sea air hit her nose when she stepped on deck the afternoon after they had first boarded. The night before she had to help carry the heavy crates Alec had packed down the same path that seemed to go on for hours in the dark before it actually reached the boat. Eeva was no where in sight to help move things so more work was given to Inedra; she did not arrive until they were well finished. In her exhaustion, Inedra figured, she had slept through the morning.

When she stepped up to the railing to look out at the sea she felt a relief like she hadn’t felt in ages. She could faintly sense where her home was but she felt no real longing to go back to it. The waves lapped gently against the boat’s bottom, occasionally sending sea-spray up to caress Inedra’s cheeks. She had tied her curls back from her face but one escaped and flew in the wind, settling only when she turned from the ocean at the sound of footsteps.

Ian wore a rather jovial smile when he stepped up to the railing beside her, and instead of meeting her eyes he directed his gaze to the horizon. He was silent as he looked out, not speaking a word until a cloud was painted across the sun by the wind’s brush. It cast a shadow upon the deck and turned the sea-spray cold, making the breeze that sifted through the cloths about Inedra’s body a harsh rather than soothing one. Ian’s eyes slid over to meet hers and when the words fell from his lips they were quiet, barely a notch above a whisper.

"I have seen many of your performances," he said only, at first, seeming to be collecting his thoughts. He turned a bit more toward her, but glanced repeatedly over his shoulder, back toward the door he emerged from. "I have watched you sing since you first started, siren—no, that’s hardly a thing to call you. What’s your name?"

When she didn’t answer he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small nail and handed it to her. She studied it for a moment before taking note of the wooden railing next to her. She switched the nail to her other hand and bent over the wood, scratching her name out carefully. When she was finished she stood back and handed the nail to him. He flung a momentary glance to the letters and tested them on his lips before saying, "Inedra?"

She nodded.

"Well, Inedra. I have watched you, and I have noticed that you do not seem . . . free. I must admit I have never seen or heard a siren before, but I know their voices are truer than yours—even truer than the voice you used to try and get me to react. You are trapped. Strangled, persay, by your . . . master, is it?—strangled by his hold on you. How long has it been since you have not sung, Inedra? Since you have used your real voice? You cannot even tell me your name.

"I must admit that I would not have followed you and asked for a job on this ship if I was not intrigued by you. But perhaps that is not the correct word; I’m somewhat . . . enchanted. Much more than the drooling men at the markets that have to go a day without dinner to watch you sing. But I feel your pain, even if you do not. Right now you are at peace. Yet, you know, you will not be on the ocean forever. When the ship lands the rest of your life will be singing to men that have no desire in you other than what you imbue in them with your voice. Your freedom will be a measure away but you will never be able to reach it. Inedra, I do not know you, I know, yet I cannot let you do this to yourself. Come away with me."

He dropped his eyes from hers and directed them to where she had scratched her name, and he began etching the three letters of his own under it. Her tongue moved to form words but she added no sound behind them; if she sang she was sure to draw Alec. Ian’s words had triggered something in her, and she ran over all of the performances in her head, recollecting each for a split second, but long enough to notice that each song carried an underlying sadness that resembled the waves of her home . . . beautiful and delicate at first glance, but turbulent and melancholy underneath. She looked over at Ian for testament of her words, but he did not meet her gaze. His fingers trailed over their names and when he met her eyes, she saw truth in them and he smiled at her—an honest smile.

"I can free you, Inedra. And we can leave. Tonight, if you wish. Come up on deck when it strikes you as the right time and no other. Do not doubt yourself. Please, believe me." He reached up and brushed his thumb across her throat. "Think of singing freely, if nothing else works." The jovial smile returned upon his face and the clouds meandered away from the sun, casting a sweet yellow hue on the deck’s crimson boards once more.

Freedom . . . Inedra closed her eyes tightly and took a steadying breath. She would come.

. . .

The creaking of the boat swallowed the noise her shallow breathing made. The slapping of the waves against the hull seemed to be magnified three times, for no matter how hard Inedra tried to hear past them she could not. She tightened her fingers around the tops of her blankets and tried to steady her breaths but she found that concentrating on them only made them more difficult to take. Doubts flowed through her mind like the ebbing of the tide; first she was confident and seconds later she decided that she was simply going to turn on her side and go to sleep. The dark seemed full of men and creatures, all coming to tie more ropes about her ankles and wrists to prevent her from even moving without direction. After she felt imaginary fingertips brush against her skin for the third time she vowed to wait until her next confidence high and as soon as it come, to climb out of bed and go to the top deck.

While she was waiting she reached up and fingered the cord around her neck. Its control on her leaked out onto her fingertips and she absently brushed them off against the sheets beside her, cringing into the darkness. She would be free.

With a movement that demanded no second thought she rose from her bed, reaching over to grab a cloak she had lain over the foot of her bed as she strode toward the door. She slung it around her shoulders and dropped her hand to grace the doorknob, silencing even her breath when she turned it to the side. It made a dull clicking that she was sure no one but herself heard. Her eyelids fluttered in relief as she stepped quietly through the small crack in the doorway, moving out onto the deck of the ship.

The night was still, save for the constant rocking of the waves. Even in her haste she managed to make herself move slowly, carefully over the boards, so she was soon in sight of the length of the deck Ian had told her to meet him on. He was not in sight.

Inedra clenched her teeth together to prevent a curse from slipping out in form of a shrill note, and moved along the boat’s length, stopping only when she was standing next to where both their names were carved. An airless sigh dangled from her lips but she caught it when a sharp creaking sounded behind her. She whirled around, clutching the railing for support, eyes wide as she looked madly about in the darkness.

"Shh, Inedra. It’s only me."

Her knuckles had turned white with her tight grip upon the rail but blood rushed back into them when Ian’s familiar voice surrounded her. He stepped into what little light the stars provided—the moon was covered by what looked like rain clouds—and Inedra immediately felt a considerable amount safer. He reached out and brushed his fingers across the white cloth that made up the shoulder of her dress.

"You look like a ghost, siren," he told her, and she offered him a smile. He leaned over the railing and looked down into the waters below, then back up at Inedra, beckoning her to look as well. When she tilted over the side of the ship she saw a small lifeboat was located feet below. It looked as though it was prepared for as long a journey could be possible over the ocean, and when she returned her eyes to Ian she saw he was smiling.

"We will be free. But first, my dear, I should think you would like to thank me with your real voice . . ." He reached for her neck and took the cord between her fingers, pulling it around so he was able to see the knot. He could feel her tremble underneath his fingers but he did not lose his concentration; the knot seemed tied more skillfully than he assumed Alec was capable of. His fingers danced around the two ends of the string, feeling the pattern of power they formed around Inedra. With skilled, learned hands he first undid the energy that encased her before venturing to the physical plane to pick apart the multiple knots that formed a chan down the two loose ends of the string. Inedra tensed as the knots fell away, one by one, until the cord hung loose around her neck. She reached up with a hesitant hand and brushed it away, letting it fall to the deck. Her eyes lifted and she met Ian’s, words brimming in her throat.

"Thank you," she said, with a voice so clear that she might have used it just moments before, but as soon as the words passed her lips she felt the familiar sense of lost control swarming up after them. Everything she had wanted to say while she was trapped demanded to be said, and while she fought at the words with a will stronger than the one she had drawn upon to swoon Ian she was unable to keep it at bay.

Voices that were hers and voices that weren’t ran from her lips like a steady waterfall, tumbling down and around her in a cacophonous disarray. Her neck whipped around with the force of it and she pulled both hands up through her hair, pressing down on either side of her head to keep it still but the gate that the chaos that had been welling behind was already flung open and there was nothing she could do to shut it again. Screams mingled with pleads and soft murmurs with bellowing roars, sifting and tangling with each other until it sounded like random, blaring disorder, banging around inside of her mouth before screaming up into the night air. She tore at her hair and fell down upon the deck but could not shut her lips—could not keep the noise inside of her. It made up for all the beauty she heard the past months by making her suffer the sheer hideousness of the sound.

Ian stood over her, dumbfounded. His eyes searched frantically with the cord but it was flung over the side of the ship with Inedra’s thrashing. The noise deafened him and soon all he heard was a dull ringing, broken only when a staggering, nails-on-concrete breath was drawn in by the writhing creature on the ship’s deck. He didn’t notice when Alec ran up behind him, and he didn’t hear his shouts until a fist flew across his cheek. He staggered against the railing but held himself up, and soon his ears cleared and although the noise was louder he was able to hear what Alec was yelling.

"You bastard! You bastard fool! If a siren’s voice has been taken one never allows her it back, lest what you are seeing here happens! This will go on for months, Ian, months or years or however the hell long it takes for her conniption fit to end! Do you understand me?" Ian winced as the shouts rose above the siren’s song, but he was able to drown them out with the pleads of, "Notice me, notice me," that dribbled from Inedra’s lips. He struggled to a sitting position so he would be able to crawl over toward her but he was stopped when Alec’s fist met his nose.

"Where is the cord, Ian? Where is the cord?"

"I—" he gasped, making his hand creep to point over the edge of the boat. Alec hands flew up and Ian could barely hear the thud of his boots against the deck as he ran away. The world seemed darker after a few more minutes in the terror-ridden screams and moans that radiated from Inedra, and when Alec returned he found that the man had passed out—whether from the force of the blows or from the violence of Inedra’s screams he did not know.

Alec shoved the man aside with his foot and strode toward Inedra, wasting no time in wrestling her into a manageable position before pinning her hands and wrapping a new, less powerful cord about her neck. She struggled and made weak gasping noises when it was in place, but it caused her unable to make much more than a whisper when the knots were tied. Alec watched her squirm under his grip for a moment before he leaned close, letting words wrapped with hatred pass through his lips.

"You cannot escape, sea bitch. Your life would have been beautiful if you would not have tried, but I will be forced to resort to more . . . ah, drastic measures, shall we put it? to keep you in your place. The world will not enjoy your song any longer. You will live in melancholy." He brushed a stray curl from her trembling brow before raising his hand and bringing it down sharply across her cheeks. She managed to sing a note of pain before falling still.

Alec rose and pulled her over his shoulder, moving silently down the deck. Although the ship seemed small from the outside, it extended down into the sea’s bottom for measures upon measures. Alec descended a slender stairwell that lead from the upper deck but was carefully obscured, moving down into the lower depths of the ship’s hull. The ship was designed, originally, for a wealthy sea captain that had an obscure fetish to watch his prisoners starve to death and wither away. A beautifully crafted cage was positioned in the far corner of the captain’s cabin, and it was here Alec threw Inedra in. He latched the door with a lock that contained only one key, which he pushed down into a lower pocket of his vest, and he threaded the remaining cord about the bars of the cage nearest to the lock to prevent Inedra from trying to devise her escape.

Alec watched her lifeless body for a moment longer before climbing the stairs back up, deciding what to do with the sailor.

. . .

Inedra woke groggy. The ground she rested upon was hard and her shoulders were pressed up against what she found to be bars, when she opened her eyes. Her fingers fell across her face, feeling a large bump that she barely remembered receiving on her left cheek.

She looked about herself but noticed Alec only when a considerable amount of time had passed. He was sitting in a chair in a darkened corner of the room, fingers laced together in his lap as he watched her.

"Sing for me."

Inedra felt tears wash down the inside of her heart; she was unable to stop the notes from climbing in her throat and dancing out onto her lips, readily displaying themselves for Alec’s pleasure.

It seemed to Inedra that that exact treatment went on for months. She had gotten to the point where she would begin singing as soon as Alec moved into her line of sight, for she tired of hearing him demand things of her. He would always nod his chin gently to the lilting harmony of her voice but he would never say anything to her, as if he looked down upon her. Inedra could not figure out how they had remained at sea for so long; Alec always seemed able to provide her with enough food to pull herself up along the bars and sing though it began to dwindle down as the time at sea seemed to grow. She did not know what had become of Ian, but she could not dare question him—and even if she was able to she would remain silent.

It was on one occasion that Alec threatened to kill Ian to get Inedra to sing for him that she knew he must still be alive. She forced herself to pump out the notes though she hadn’t had more than a slice of crusted bread and a drop of fresh water that morning; she feared that the provisions were near running out for she knew Alec would never treat her that way unless he was forced to.

After Alec left her she fell back against her bars, closing her eyes and falling asleep for there was nothing more she was able to do; all her strength had been utterly drained. She took in a deep breath and she was almost sure she smelt the foggy cleanness of her ocean home . . .

. . .

. . .

Inedra struggled to rise to her feet, fingers groping about her neck to pull the loose length of the cord away from her skin. She stumbled over to a jagged piece of metal in the cage that she hadn’t noticed before, one that stuck out just far enough and curved just right that it looked as though it formed a hook. Inedra trained her eyes upon this and she positioned herself underneath it. She reached up, standing on the tips of her toes, and wrapped her slender, weak fingers around the bar just next to it. With the last bit of her strength she pulled herself up just enough to hook the loose piece of cord around the hook and she held herself for a split second before dropping her fingers from the bar, letting what bound her cut into her neck and slit her last breath apart. She made no sound and her voice was free, shattering the energy of the cord and erupting into the air around her still body.

Alec heard the noise of metal rattling moments later and he ran from the upper deck and down the stairs, Ian following right behind him. When he found her body he screamed his rage and tore apart the cabin, cursing her for her death and cursing her for the gifts he had lost. He flung open the cage’s door and pulled her body from the hook, dragging her up the stairs and onto the prow of the boat. Ian only watched as he tore the clothes from her arms and the hair from her head, the cord from her neck and the innocence from her body. Alec let out a last bellow of his fury and shoved her over the side of the boat, while all that remained of her fluttered softly from the air and to the wooden deck. He didn’t even flinch as the sound of he body hit the water echoed throughout the ship.

Ian fell to his knees as he felt the siren disappear in the ocean’s depths, and he did not try to keep the salty tears from rolling silently down his cheeks. He had loved her, although she had not known. And now she was gone. His siren—his love—was gone. He lowered his eyes and watched as his tears splattered upon the boards, soaking into them as if they were nothing more than sea spray. The air around him seemed dead, and he heard no more bird’s crying melody. He heard no more gentle lapping of the waves against the hull, and he heard no sweet breeze carrying a song only one could sing.

. . .

Sundown, two days past summer’s end; Year of the Sea

Ian looked up from his writing as a note pierced through the dusk’s serenity. His pen stayed poised above the paper and he told himself he was just hearing things, when the note rang again. Clear and beautiful, and hers.

"Inedra," he whispered, and shoved the desk he was writing upon aside. His papers fluttered to the ground and the ink pot burst upon the deck; ebon black liquid sprayed everywhere. He hardly noticed, though—he tore up the deck and when he finally made it to the wheel the two notes had merged to form a melody discordant but still familiar that rang in Ian’s ears, calling to him. He lined his sight up with the rocks and turned the wheel as far as he could toward them, sending the boat on a beeline toward his love.

The song pulsated about his ears and he felt faint with giddiness. He wanted to call out to her though he knew she would not hear him from the distance he was at, so he merely prayed for a swift wind to take him he rest of the way to her. He wrung his hands together as the melody dipped and spun around his head, though some of the notes seemed off key and misplaced, as if someone had omitted one or added one too many between the song was sung and the time it was actually heard. He did not question this. He knew it was her.

His boat crept nearer and nearer to the rocks and when he was sure it was close enough he ran toward the side closes to the island and called, "Inedra! Inedra, my siren!" though his only answer was silence. It overpowered him at first and he stood, wavering unsteadily on his feet before he realised the imminent destruction he had put himself him. His hands flew over the wheel before his mind registered what he was doing and he had soon set the boat right, on track for the town he had before been set for. His memory skipped as he tried to figure out what had happened, but all he could recall was a faint beauty that was strangely reminiscent of a long lost love . . .

. . .

She watched him as he sailed away, feeling a comfort in knowing that she had settled his heart. She still battled with the turbulence inside of hers but she knew time would heal it.

She shifted her position on the rocky shore, tossing amber curls that glittered in the sun’s dying light over a pale skinned shoulder, leaning back and relishing in her own freedom. A breath fell from her lips and she gazed down at the waters that swirled maliciously yet gently at her toes, tugging then caressing all in the same motion. It had resurrected and saved her so she felt no less than a complete trust in it, and she repaid it by warning misplaced travelers away from the rocky coastline with her voice. Her voice had broken and she could not use it to induce desire any longer, though she still heard her sisters’ calls strong through the currents of the ocean. Sailors now shied from the strangled noise she made, and though she sat despondently alone, she felt no regret. She had loved and lost and though a strangled siren she was she would live.

The ocean whispered around her and bid its goodnight before following the sun to its resting place.