Arms of the Ocean Ch. 09

===

"We're back!" Glade shouted as she burst into the room, pushing the door to slam against the limit of its hinges.

"Shh," Trym hissed. Then he pointed to the top of the wardrobe in the corner.

Yis' heart raced with panic. She and Trym had been having such a nice discussion when his friends came crashing in. For a while she had totally forgotten why Shadetree Fold, or any place with loads of people, had ever been scary. Now it all came rushing back. These people were so sudden, noisy and unpredictable.

"Yis, uh..." Trym paused and massaged his forehead. "Uh, what was it... oh, down." The last word he spoke in her native tongue, though the emphasis and accent were both a little off.

"Teb." Yis gently floated back down from the wardrobe and landed in her chair.

Trym then twisted over his shoulder to face the stunned pair that had just entered. "I told you I'd get there. It may have taken half the day but patience is a virtue," he said, going back to the funny language shared with Ronav.

"So you understand each other? Have you learned what she knows about Sirens?" Glade asked as she strode over and took a seat.

"I wouldn't call it understanding. We're getting there. Still a ways off talking about Sirens. But the more I learn, the faster I learn it." Trym then returned his attention to Yis as he pointed to Glade. "Yis... uh, Siren su... Siren su... hassli Glade."

Yis looked at the woman that Trym had just introduced as Glade. She already knew that, of course, but it was exciting that her new friend was making so much progress. "Fril Glade," said Yis with a smile and a wave.

"That means hello." Trym twisted around and beckoned the blonde-haired man over. "Sye su hassli Blondie."

"My name isn't Blondie!" the man shouted as he sat down.

Yis jumped in fright but relaxed again when the blue teardrops on Trym's hood fell upon her. "Fril Blondie," she said.

The Neynas groaned and jabbed a finger at Yis. "My name's not Blondie, it's—"

"Hush." Trym beckoned for silence. "We were busy speaking before the two of you came crashing back in and I was making a lot of progress. Now kindly be quiet and let me get back to it."

Blondie leaned back, crossed his arms and grumbled something to himself.

Tyrm faced Yis again and a smile appeared on his lips. It looked odd without any accompanying eyes. How could he even see with his hood pulled down so far? "What, uh... were us saying?" he asked in her dialect.

Yis held back her laughter at his words. "Where are your eyes?" she asked, slow and clear to give him the best chance at understanding.

Trym's hood shifted with a frown underneath. A few seconds later the miniscule folds undid themselves as understanding dawned.

===

The water made little splits and slaps as a pebble shot across river, dipping down to kiss the surface with growing frequency as its flight wore on. Finally its momentum proved too slow and the next touch saw it claimed by the currents.

Ronav stared at the ripples underneath which the stone had vanished. He imagined the same thing happening to him. In a way, it already had. One chaotic event after another, each growing worse and more problematic as this adventure continued. Their finding Yis, Vyla revealing herself to Lady Telra then wanting to kill her, Zeerae showing up out of the blue. Now the Sirens had gone off to kill Maethli and Ronav had barely tried to stop them.

What would I have done? he asked the aether. Fighting wasn't an option. Raising the guards would also bring suspicion on himself. The fiasco in Shadetree Fold was repeating looping round for another run. Except this time, Ronav didn't find himself caring so much about the victim. Mostly because Telra hadn't struck him as such an obnoxious individual from the get go. Besides, if Vyla and Zeerae didn't do the killing, some other Shasteless would. Maethli had marked himself for death the second he acquired that heart, the Sirens had been crystal clear.

So why do I feel like this? Ronav wondered. With a groan he sank down and sat upon the riverbank, resting his back against a willow tree. Their campsite stood a few minutes away, up a gentle hill and hidden in a copse of trees. Nimtith had returned earlier and was supposedly getting some sort of dinner prepared before night fell fully upon them. As far as their whipper knew, Vyla and Zeerae had balked at the thought of roughing it and intended to search town for a better option

Somewhat macabre, Ronav's thoughts turned back to the pebble and he found himself wondering when it might be his turn to sink beneath the river.

A sigh of exasperation escaped Ronav as he lazily flung the last of the pebbles into the river. His Siren friends had been gone nearly an hour now. Tonight the people of Teeburr may find themselves woken from slumber by the town's alarm bells.

===

"There, the lights have grown dimmer, he is closing." Zeerae's shape reverted from the pile of refuse she had been disguised as and she flowed to her feet.

Vyla, presently a barrel, did the same. Nobody had bothered them during their spying in this alleyway across from Maethli's store. No Shaslings had enough care or perception to give a second glance at the objects that, to a Siren, would have looked somewhat out of place.

"Come," Zeerae said as she strode across the now-barren street.

Vyla gritted her teeth as she followed. She still didn't like it, but bending to the commands of this Shasteless was proving easier than earlier. After all, the Shasteless did command jurisdiction of all things land. And, in her present state, Vyla didn't feel capable of leading the charge, so to speak. Her shapeshifting still felt sluggish and a large mass of flesh in her core continued to ignore instruction. Were their target someone other than an idiot Shasling who had gotten deep over his head, her temporary weakness may have been an issue.

"Locked?" Vyla asked once they reached the door.

Zeerae tried the handle. "Indeed." She changed the shape of one finger and pushed it into the keyhole. Moments later the door clicked its acceptance.

If possible, the poor lighting of the store had grown worse with the onset of evening. Vyla had thought that the grimy windows would keep any changes from being noticeable but the shelves and their contents were shrouded in marginally poorer light than before.

"Who's that?" came Maethli's voice from some room towards the back, followed by his footsteps. Seconds later he came into view. "Oh, it's only you two. Back for the heart, I see. Told you it was one of a kind. I bet you've been thinking about the prize all— wait..." The Neynas' eyes dropped side to side and he frowned. "I locked the door, how did you get in?"

"The answer is simple..." said Zeerae as she moved forwards.

Either by some strange foresight or chance alone, Maethli's hands came up in defense. With a flash so fast that not even a blink would be necessary to miss it, they fell to the floor, severed at the wrists.

"...We're Sirens."

"Guh," was all that Maethli managed as he stared at his wrists. Twin bloodied stumps that now spurted small gouts of red. His mouth flapped in a shocked struggle to scream. "Haa—"

Zeerae's right arm flowed forwards and wrapped around Maethli's mouth and head before his volume could rise to anything substantial. Vyla watched as her accomplice's flesh continued to flow and solidify until she had him entangled and mute. His arms were bound at his sides by blackened carapace and his legs could only bend at the knees, barely even that. Their bodies had practically merged into a single, grotesque form. Then Zeerae and Vyla walked with their prize to the back room.

Maethli had begun to struggle as they sat him down in one corner of his study. If it could be called a study at all. There were scrolls and strips of parchment piled high and few sections of wall went uncovered by shelves.

Vyla's eyes wandered to the hands of their victim that she presently held in her own. She had scooped them up on the off chance that a passing Shasling might somehow manage to see them through the window grime.

Maethli grunted in agony past the gag of Zeerae's flesh. All that emerged of his screams were a series of high-pitched hums.

"You've alcohol around here, no doubt." Zeerae stepped over to a paltry desk and pulled out its drawers. Her body remained entwined with her prisoner and the effect looked rather odd. She had shrunk already, devoting so much of herself to bindings, yet she thinned further the more she moved away. "Aha!" the Shasteless exclaimed, pulling a bottle from behind a pile of books. She then pinched Maethli's nose, tipped his head back and forced the murky bottle into his mouth.

"What are you doing?" Vyla asked as the man spluttered down the liquid.

"Booze numbs pain and loosens lips. He won't be much inclined to speak until this kicks in," Zeerae explained.

The time with Lady Telra had been Vyla's first experience with alcohol and she now understood why. Both its effects were detrimental, especially so among Sirens. No wonder it had never caught on back home. "Wouldn't it have been easier to begin without severing his hands?" Vyla asked as she looked for the bloodied stumps hidden inside the shell of Zeerae's body.

"Did you wish for him to spout fire at us?" said the Shasteless. Several seconds later she drew the bottle from Maethli's lips and tossed it aside where it landed on a pile of papers. "There, now we need only wait."

Feeling weary from the evening's events, Vyla pulled out the chair to their captive's desk and sat down in the opposite corner. It took almost twenty-three minutes before Maethli's senses appeared to have dulled sufficiently. Everything but fear. Never during the wait did the fear fade from the Neynas' eyes. That cold, white, sickening fear of an animal gone to slaughter. A man who sees the end so close that he can taste what lies beyond.

"Now, let us talk." Zeerae sat down in front of Maethli and her legs became the limbs that formed his bonds.

"P—please don't kill me," he groaned once his gag had flowed away. "I'll give you... everything in the store. The m—money too."

Zeerae stroked the back of her hand down the man's cheek and he flinched. "Dearest Maethli, we only want one item of your merchandise. You've overdrunk your spirits but I'm sure you can recall to what I am referring."

"It's yours. Just don't kill me. Please. Please, please, please, I have a family... please..." His head lolled over for a moment before an unseen prod sparked him back.

"How did you come by it? I know you didn't kill a sister yourself."

"I don't know who he— Gyah!"

Maethli cringed and seized up as the parts of Zeerae's body that held him underwent the slightest change. Vyla couldn't tell what went on beneath the surface but it didn't sound pleasant.

"Okay! Okay!" Maethli cried. He spat and several flecks of blood scattered across the floorboards. "I didn't see his— Haa!"

Another ripple and another twist in the man's body that loosened again once his cries grew too strong.

"Please, they'll kill me if I—"

"And I will kill you now if you don't tell me," said Zeerae, her voice frigid.

"I don't know his name..."

Maethli stopped and clamped his eyes shut as if anticipating another wave of agony. This time it appeared that Zeerae believed him and none came.

"Continue," she said.

"He came by the s—store one day and had the... heart. Said it would be worth plenty to the right buyer. He had blond hair, like any Neynas. And his, his nose was real pointy and it made his eyes look like they were about to touch..."

"What else?" Zeerae pressed after her prisoner trailed off.

"That's all I— Hnngh."

"Maethli... do you think I am anywhere close to your stupidity. Moments ago you said they. Who and how many others?"

"A—A Ralta. He didn't come in, though, j—just waited outside. I couldn't see the marks on his hood." Again Maethli clenched his eyes shut in expectance of pain.

"Think now, stupid one, is there anything else you may wish to share?"

"No," Maethli answered immediately with a vigorous headshake. "Nothing else, please let me go. Please don't eat my hands. I can get them put back on, I can visit this healer across—"

"The only place you're visiting, Shasling, is the screaming void."

"No. No!" If possible, the man's eyes widened further as more fear flooded in. "But you said— you said you wouldn't—"

"Wrong again. But rest assured, weak thing, I will be far quicker than those you betrayed would have been."

"N—"

Whatever Maethli had been about to say was lost by the spine that lashed from Zeerae's arm to pierce through his skull. A swift death, as promised. To do otherwise would be taboo. Slow killings gave time for bystanders to witness and implied some emotional attachment to the act. Neither helped Sirenkind.

"Finished?" Vyla asked, switching to her native tongue, once her accomplice had disentangled herself and stood up.

"That part, yes."

"You believed him?"

Zeerae's eyes flashed an acidic green. "He would still be alive had he been lying. At least until the truth emerged."

"And your verdict?" Vyla's tone held blandness to mask her interest. Few Tomateless had a chance to be on board with their land sisters' operations.

"Less than a pawn, virtually useless to us. The Neynas he met with is of somewhat greater note but I am unsure where the Ralta stands. At the top or another link? We shall see." Zeerae stretched tall then sank down and knelt beside the motionless body of Maethli. "I'm sure you of the Tomateless have had ample meals of Shasling."

Vyla cocked her head then slipped down to join Zeerae by the corpse. "But we promised Ronav."

"What he doesn't know cannot hurt him." Zeerae's hand turned to a blade and it sliced a strip of flesh from the Neynas' forearm. She held it above her open mouth. "No sense in letting good meat go to waste."

In truth, Vyla hadn't ever tasted Shasling before. She would never let Zeerae know but the Tomateless hadn't afforded as many opportunities as she had hoped. Their meat was supposed to be delicious, not just exotic. She watched the bloodied ribbon disappear down the Shasteless' throat and felt her stomach growl. They had been waiting outside so long and she hadn't tasted a fresh kill since that prickly critter in the woods. A promise to Ronav versus one of the most prestigious meats. The choice was obvious.