Page 2 of Lured By the Siren

The skin around his eyes crinkles as he greets me with a seemingly crazed smirk. His cheeks are laden with red, either from the drink he’s currently guzzling or from days spent exposed to the sun on that island. His blue-grey eyes are distantand strained, but there is a look of recognition that flashes through them as he motions for me to join him.

Though my brother and I are several years apart, we share several of the same features. We both have the Ivarrson family’s sharp nose, high cheekbones, and emerald eyes, but whereas Dru has the dark brown hair of our father, I have a head full of golden curls to match our mother’s.

Still, I see a moment of remembrance pass over his features. He has a story to tell, and I’m not sure I’m ready to hear it. His clothes hang loosely off his malnourished frame, and I make a note to order him a bowl of stew before I shuffle over to him, trying my best not to make eye contact with anyone in the place.

I nod my head at him before taking a seat. “Are you Merrit?”

“The one and only. Here, drink,” Merrit moves the second pint of ale across the table to me. It sloshes, spilling pale brown liquid across the sticky wooden surface.

“Thank you,” I say nervously, sipping lightly on the hard brew. I’ve never been one for alcohol, and I try not to cough as the bitter, bubbling drink burns down my throat.

“No, thank you, boy. These are going on ‘ur coin,” He laughs, a gurgling sound that makes me cringe at the roughness of it.

“Right,” I say. “I did set up this meeting after all.”

I wave down the bartender and order two bowls of whatever stew is on the menu, hoping the warm liquid will help satisfy the gnawing feeling churning in my gut.

A heavy silence stretches between us, and his yellowing eyes bore into me, making gooseflesh crawl along my arms. I bypass any small talk and get to the root of our meeting. The sooner I can get out of this place, the better.

“What happened to theGolden Serpent?”

Merrit’s eyes darken, “She’s gone, ‘fraid. Swallowed by the spirits in the sea.”

I frown, “But how? Did something attack you? Was it a storm? Did anyone else survive?” My final question sounds more like a whisper. It is the most important question and the only answer I really want to know.

“There was a storm. Came from nowhere. One second the seas were calm, sky clear. Next, it were crashing waves, winds so strong they ripped through the sails. It weren’t natural, boy. I dived into the sea, swam my way as far as I could to where the seas were calm again,” Merrit pauses, a shutter from the memories racking through him. “If anyone survived, the sirens have ‘em now. Their terrible wailing song would have lured ‘em further to their doom. The storm was full of their song. Ain’t no one left if they haven't come back by now.”

“Sirens?” I scoff. They’re a myth, nothing more than a children’s tale. Merrit was probably talking about the sounds of the wind in the storm. The province encountered its fair share of intense storms, and I know that the whistle of those ferocious winds can play tricks on your mind, sounding like something else entirely.

“Aye, boy. Sirens.”

This man’s mind clearly isn’t fully there. He was lost for weeks at sea after all, found half dead on a small island off the shore just over a week ago. There is no way his mind was fully recovered in such a short time.

I think back to the stories my mother read to Dru and I as children. She read us the tale of the sirens and their call. They are dangerous monsters that lure sailors to their lair, never to be seen again, but those are nothing more than stories spun of mythical creatures that didn’t exist.

There were other bloodthirsty creatures in those fables. There were tales of orcs, trolls, dwarves, and more, but no one had ever seen these creatures, so who was to say they existed at all?

I don’t believe in fairy tales. I believe in science and tangible proof.

“You survived, though,” I continue, prodding. “So there could be others out there. Is there anything you remember seeing? Did anyone else make it out of the storms?”

The bartender interrupts me, placing two steaming bowls between us. I inhale the rich, spiced aroma and am immediately comforted by the familiar scent of a traditional meat stew. It reminds me of the one my mother used to make when we were children. It was always Dru’s favorite.

I let the silence stretch between us as Merrit dives into the hearty meal, devouring it in front of me, slurping every last bit. I can’t imagine what he’s been through, and a sudden sense of looming dread drops in my gut, souring the stew I’ve eaten as I wait to hear what he says next.

Merrit’s eyes glaze over as he leans back in his chair, an empty bowl before him, and stares at a spot behind me. I look over my shoulder, but then he says, “There were land somewhere in those storms. I saw trees and rock, but it was gone as soon as I seen it. Even so, weeks have gone by. No one could survive out there for weeks. Not with the sirens in those waters.”

My brows shoot up. An island? If there truly is an island in those waters, then there is a chance that Dru is there—still alive. Hope blooms inside me.

I look down at my watch, noting the time. The sun should be setting soon, and I don't want to be here when night falls. With a sigh, I think about what Merrit has said. He does have a good point. It was now over a month since the ship went missing.

If they weren't back by now, they were probably gone, but I can't give up hope yet, not if there is even a chance Dru is out there.

I need to find him.

My brother is strong and smart. If anyone could survive an extreme storm, it was Dru. He's alive out there. I just know it.

“How much would it take for you to lead me there?”

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