It comes to huntus, not the humans…
Who lured it here? Who drew it from the south?
Witches, enemy witches, evil sorceresses.
They want our blood and bone for their spellwork.
They lured it.
They…
Them.
The map of the ocean I can sense around me ripples, reforming, as though a net has been shaken. The armada is revealed in all its sprawling, terrible glory in my mind, rows upon rows of vessels, most likely cloaked before from my sight and that of my siren sisters by some clever witch spellwork, but now we can sense them. Perhaps the spell no longer has a hold on us. And below us the leviathan is a colossal monster, part serpent, part whale, with a huge, gaping maw, fang-like teeth and glowing yellow eyes. It coils low in the murk of the seabed, awaiting a feast of sirens, waiting for my sisters to begin their own hunt for hearts, to pick them off as they grapple with their prey.
Bodies and debris begin hitting the water, our own ships and boats exchanging cannon fire above. Flamesdance on the surface, painting this world of the sea in a myriad burning colours. It’s as though the sea is aflame, orange and gold and yellow, and between there is shadow and the hulls that promise death. As these flashes of flame bloom on the roof of the ocean, my siren sisters gather. For highlighted by those flares of flame is the morgawr, slinking along an undercurrent, a sly coil of hunger. As I watch the shimmer of siren scales, I sense two more monsters, a kind I have fought before. Kraken, vast and ravenous, their tentacles tasting the sea’s currents, one already rolling towards the feast aboard our fleet.
I turn to Gallena and find her features more angular here than in her home of the siren graveyard, sharpened by her senses. She wants the human hearts peppering the water. She wants to hunt and feast. But there is a greater part of her looking to protect her sisters, determined to rid the ocean of the dark monsters that would hunt and torment them, now or in the future.
Split into your clusters, my sisters. Beshenya, Karenza, take the morgawr. Niardema, lure the kraken to the opposing armada. My cluster and Mira, we take the leviathan to his final grave.
A battle cry rises in my mind, the sirens gripping blades carved of bone and spines, like my mother’s weapon, wielding them as axes. In a flurry of translucent limbs and teeth, the morgawr is quickly beset by Beshenya and Karenza’s cluster. One thrash of the monster’s huge tail sees three sirens batted in themiddles and I freeze, heart in my throat. But they rally, rejoining their sisters, and the hunt begins in earnest.
I dart alongside Gallena, past the cluster luring the kraken away, clearing our path for the king of all sea monsters. As we find the creature, he snaps his jaw, then unleashes a roar that jars my very bones. My siren sisters falter, their instinct to flee from their natural predator almost overwhelming them.
I’ll get in close, I say to Gallena.It may not mark me the same as you.
She nods and I’m off, weaving over and under a current, flying between the shadows cast by the hulls of the vessels overhead. The leviathan extends, uncoiling, its yellow gaze captured by a siren near Gallena. In a movement that belies its huge, bloated form, it lashes out, gripping her with its fangs, tossing her body down its throat to swallow her whole. A siren wail crescendos in my mind and I shudder, feeling every inch of my sisters’ horror. But as the leviathan feeds I take the chance and come up behind. As quiet as a whisper, I get into position.
Ready to be the distraction.
The lure.
My heart thumps against the cage of my ribs and I remind myself I’m doing this for all of us. The leviathan will devour our fleet. We will never be able to enter the waters surrounding Ennor again if it stays. We’ll be land-trapped, desperate. Now it’s found a rich hunting ground, it will linger, like the old stories say,for generation after generation until the land is bled dry. As I grip my blade, fighting off my fear, I am ready to swim faster than ever before.
But there’s an almost invisible shimmer over the leviathan’s scales as the water undulates around it and, suddenly, the ocean tastes metallic. I freeze, my gaze shifting over the leviathan as it turns on Gallena and the other sirens. Then I realise. The metallic taste is spellwork. It’s the same scent and taste pluming like perfume in the halls of Coven Septern. There is a witch influencing the leviathan, probably more than one. The creature is being guided, controlled, just as the witches controlled my senses and that of my sisters by cloaking the armada.
I swim forward, stabbing my blade into the leviathan’s tail, blood gushing in a deep purple cloud around me. But it doesn’t turn, doesn’t even flinch. In desperation, I cry out to my siren sisters.
Gallena, flee! A witch controls the monster!
She tries to bolt, but she’s not fast enough, the leviathan has already set its sights on her. It lunges and the sirens surrounding her scatter, screaming, as its fangs clamp down on her leg.
lowri watches as mira disappearswith the sirens into the sea. Then she whispers a witch word, eyes on the horizon, on the armada that’s come to devour her home. She lands in the entrance hall of Ennor Castle and the ground shudders beneath her. Lowri gasps, throwing out a hand to grip a side table as the walls seem to strain inwards. She blinks quickly, feeling the strange tang of another coven’s magic invading the castle.
‘We’re out of time,’ she murmurs to herself, sensing the press against the wards, against the very bindings of Elena’s protection.
She hurries through the castle, corridors pinching and shuddering, checking rooms and halls, the kitchens and infirmary, as she searches with increasing urgency. Then she whisks up the back stairs, knowing where to find her. Lowri heads straight for the library and finds Tanith kneeling before Amma, who is sitting in an armchair, flitting in and out of focus as she groans, reeling with each whip and crack of magic against the wards binding her together.
Tanith glances at Lowri, relief on her face. ‘Come, Lowri. The wards are buckling. You must sense it. Amma is weakening too fast. She can’t last much longer against this assault of spellwork. She won’t be able to stop them.’
Lowri hides her panic, rushing to Amma’s side. ‘If she dies …’
‘Then the wards will have fallen, yes,’ Tanith confirms. She straightens, drawing a vial from a dress pocket. ‘This is my blood, witch. Imbibe it. You need a strong catalyst to delve deep into your magic. You and your fledglings and Brielle, should they make it back to us in time, need itnow.’
Amma stutters in and out again and Lowri pushes back her fear over Brielle’s long silence, over what has transpired on her assignment to find aid in the Spines. ‘You would share your blood with me … with us?’
Tanith nods. ‘I would. The blood of a drake. The richest, most powerful creature blood in this world.’
