How (Not) to Soothe a Siren (Cindy Eller Book 9) (13 page)

T
he swan maidens were noticeably absent for the rest of the day.

“They had to fly,” their mother, Elaine, explained to me, when I asked where they were. “It comes like that, sometimes.”

“Do you fly anymore?” I asked.

She shook her head, an almost sad smile on her perfect lips. “When the girls were little, I was afraid that the flight hunger would take me away from them. So, I threw my feather cloak on the fire.” She sighed wistfully. “I miss it sometimes, but it was the only way I could stay with my family. Most swans don’t have that choice.”

“That’s horrible,” I exclaimed.

She laughed softly. “No, that’s love. Whether you learn quickly, or at a pace so slow that the world seems to fly around you—you learn to sacrifice, and that sacrifice is worth it all. I looked at my husband, and my little girls, and I knew that I wanted them forever—even if that meant I could never fly again.”

I’d begun to believe that I understood the facets of motherhood and a mother’s love. I thought I had understood the sacrifices that were asked—the sleepless nights, the willingness to die for my child, if that was required. But, this sacrifice of self, stole my breath and shook my foundations. I had not been raised in a society that made sacrifices of self-interest. Would I have given up my wings for Timothy and Asher?

Honestly?

I wasn’t sure.

What if I was asked to give up something I couldn’t?

I just prayed it would never come to that.

I helped Elaine make food and set the table for the evening meal. I looked at her questioningly as I started to set out wooden bowls and some beautifully hand-turned plates.

“I always set their places,” she said with a smile. “Even if they don’t make it home, they always have a place made at home. I think it helps some, on the lonely nights.”

“Did you have sisters?” I asked.

Her smile widened. “Oh, yes. It’s almost always seven swan maidens, you know. It’s part of the Magic. There are a few exceptions, but they are rare. My sisters and I were so close. We had each other and no one else. Our father was a peddler of sorts, and our mother was long gone by the time we were old enough to start asking questions.”

‘Where are they now?” I asked.

Elaine shrugged. “Flying somewhere, no doubt. Perhaps they have found a replacement for me and forgotten I ever existed. That happens sometimes, you know.”

“Are you happy?” I couldn’t help myself from asking, though I knew I was being horrible nosey and rude.

“No one is happy every day,” Elaine said. “But, yes, I am generally happy. Even the sad days pass. I could have made a different decision. Who knows? I could have been out there somewhere, mourning for my family. Or, as is more typical for my kind, not remember that I had a family at all.”

Once again, I was reminded that the nature of Magic leaned neither to the left, nor to the right. It was not of the light, or of the dark. Not good, but not evil. It encompassed it all blindly.

Which meant that Magic could be cruel.

What should Elaine have done? Had it really been the only true option left open for her?

I was still staring into the fire, troubled by my thoughts, when the castle doors opened wide and the seven swan maidens tumbled inside.

It had started to rain after they left, something I hadn’t noticed. The girls came in from the rain, their silvery gowns—the cloaks that made them what they were—dripping water all over the floor.

Timothy, who had been pacing with a sleeping Asher on his shoulder, came in at the racket.

“We have news,” Viveka gasped, standing in front of the fire. Her hands were shaking from cold. The skin around her lips looked decidedly blue.

Aurora nodded, from the huddle of her sisters. “The siren is crying forfeit on the rock people,” she chattered through her teeth. “She’s closing in on them… tonight.”

“What are rock people?” I asked, rushing to find towels and warm blankets for the soaked girls to wrap themselves up in.

“Like trolls, but a lot smaller,” Aurora said. “And way, way, way…”

“Cuter,” the girls said together.

“I always wanted a rock person companion,” Elaine said. “My father always said they were too heavy to carry around in the wagon. Maybe your father will let me…”

“He will not,” Lemek announced from the doorway. “Even rock people have rights. Leave the poor things in their natural habitat.”

“We’re trying to, father,” Viveka said. “But, the siren is calling in their debt, and they need our help.”

Lemek’s expression turned grim. “What does she want from them? What did they swear?”

“Tears from a man, who is not a man,” Casidhe whispered. “I’m sorry. I can’t think of any way to get something like that.” She looked like she was on the verge of bursting into tears.

“Let’s go,” Lemek said, grimly.

“You’re coming too?” One of the girls squeaked.

Lemek and Elaine smiled at each other.

“We both are,” Elaine said. “Let’s fly.”

*~*~*

A
s it turned out, not all forms of flight had been lost to Elaine. She and Lemek were in possession of a huge chariot, which was pulled by two giant golden swans.

“When I learned what my wife had done, so she could stay with our family,” Lemek said, kissing Elaine on the cheek until she turned pink, “I did all I could to make sure she would never have to give up flight completely.”

The sweetness of the look they exchanged touched my heart.

They put a new face of sacrifice and all that it could mean. Elaine had given up a huge part of her world for her family, and her husband had done everything he could to make sure she didn’t regret her decision.

People weren’t perfect, but sometimes they had perfect moments.

*~*~*

A
s it happened, there was another road from the keep, one that didn’t require white-knuckles and gritted teeth. Here, we were able to let our horses go as fast as they willed.

Thankfully, they had reached a consensus for speed, Fae horse style, which was about twice as fast as a mortal horse could gallop. On any horse but Gealbhan, I would have been terrified. I knew that he wouldn’t let me fall, unless he wanted me to fall, and he wouldn’t do that.

The world around us turned to a blur. I cradled Asher, along with his prism, against my breast. The wind tore tears from my eyes, stiffening my face under its battery until I felt like I was wearing a mask. Ninety miles an hour, I reminded myself. I had driven that fast on the freeway in the car.

There was no comparison. No car was as intelligent, as sure-footed as a Fae horse. I let Gealbhan take over. He would get me safely there.

It was my job to keep breathing and not freak out.

A high pitched squeal came from the bundle in my arms. I curled around him closer, trying to offer him comfort, when I realized that those were not sobs, but gales of laughter coming from my baby.

Apparently, Asher had a need for speed.

His glee was infectious. I had never enjoyed going full-out on horses. Perhaps I was too uptight. Asher’s reaction helped me to relax, to sit back and enjoy the sensation of skimming across the earth, on no wings, but the wings of speed.

“If you think this is fun, you are never going to drive a car,” I told Asher. He squealed again, followed by his hysterical little belly-laughs.

We arrived at our destination, to my relief, and Asher’s great disappointment. He babbled as Gealbhan slowed to a walk, his sides heaving and his coat drenched in sweat and foam. He huffed through his nostrils, which flared with each desperate breath he drew.

“You pushed yourself too hard,” I murmured. I slid out of the saddle and quickly undid all of the straps that held it in place. The last thing Gealbhan needed was any extra weight, after a run like that.

“I’ll look after him,” Madi said. Her face looked grim. “I think we may be too late.”

I
didn’t know what it was we were expecting, but I had a feeling it wasn’t… nothing. We stood in the middle of the plains, and that was it. There was nothing else to be seen, but grass, more grass, and us.

Lemek and Elaine land with the great blast of giant swan wings. Their chariot rested softly on the grass. The seven sisters we the last to arrive, each one appearing, breathless, in their human forms as soon as their feet touched the earth.

“They’re gone,” Viveka said, bending over in an attempt to catch her breath. We were just here. How could they be gone?”

I had the thought that it would be easier for me to help them find who they were looking for, if I had a better idea myself. I decided not to voice the thought, though, considering how distressed the swan maidens were.

“I’ve brought my lunar panel project,” Lemek murmured to me in a low voice. “Does Asher still have the prism?”

I nodded.

“I want to be prepared, in case that creature shows up here. Too bad I didn’t have time to sort out that last riddle—tears of a man who isn’t a man. That doesn’t make any sense!” Lemek shook his head, frustration apparent in every motion.

“It makes sense to the siren,” I said. “Maybe we just need to think the way she would, and we’ll figure it out.”

Lemek shrugged helplessly. “I wouldn’t even know how to begin thinking like a siren.”

Timothy took Asher from my arms. “What is her motivation?” he asked.

“Power?” My mother added in, her voice sounding tired and subdued.

“Revenge?” Casidhe suggested in her small voice. “Not a specific act of revenge, but revenge in a general way? Perhaps she feels wronged and is lashing out in retaliation.”

I thought about the dream I had had, walking up and down the length of the lighthouse waiting for him to come.

What if he had never come at all?

“What happened to her sworn love?” I asked, cautiously. “The one who gave her the comb?”

I looked to the swan maidens, but they shook their heads.

“We don’t know,” Viveka said. “The stories did say.”

I looked to the others. In turn, they shook their heads—Lemek, Merlin, my mother, even Madi and the soldiers knew nothing.

“He broke his oath,” Elaine said quietly.

We all turned towards her.

“It’s a very old story,” she said. “I heard it while I was still very little and traveling with my father’s wagon as he pedaled wares. Sometimes he would trade certain goods for stories. He always teased that we got the better end of the bargain, that way.” She smiled in remembrance. “The way I heard it, the siren and her sworn love were never reunited.”

“I wonder what happened,” I said. “To give a gift of such incredible power, like the wishing comb, he must have been pretty powerful himself.”

“The story didn’t say,” Elaine murmured apologetically. She bit her lip in concentration. “All I know, is that they were children together, and their parents didn’t approve.”

That agreed with the impression I had gotten from my dream.

“Little cat feet,” Merlin blurted out.

I stared at him. Had he finally lost his noodle completely?

“The fog is coming,” my mother translated. How she made the connection was beyond my powers of comprehension, but she was right—as we had talked amongst ourselves, the mist had crept up around us.

We were completely surrounded.

The horses snorted uneasily. They formed a circle with us in the middle, as they would have protected their young ones in the wild.

“Oh, my friends,” I said. “I thank you for your willingness to protect us, but I think this is a foe we must face alone. Please, leave us here. Run somewhere the mist will not find you. I have a hunch you’ll know when we will need you again.” I turned towards Madi. “You and the soldiers go, too.”

“But--,” she protested.

“I command you,” I said, firmly. “I am still your Seraphim. The three of you will go with the horses. To safety. If I had the power to, I would tell these others to leave as well.” I nodded towards the swan maidens and their parents. “But, I do have power over you, and you are sworn to obey me. We’ve learned far too much about broken oaths already, haven’t we?”

Madi nodded, though her chin was set at a rebellious angle. I didn’t care if she was angry with me. I just wanted her to be safe.

I was hoping that the mist would let them go.

The mist grew ever thicker around us, as the sounds of hooves grew fainter and fainter in the distance. I didn’t know if that meant that the others were safe, but I hoped they were.

“Earplugs?” I asked my mother.

She and the others nodded. This time, I put Asher’s in first. I’d learned my lesson the first time around.

We stood in a loosely formed group, our backs to one another, so there was no space that the mist could catch us by surprise. The air was heavy, and hushed.

I saw Lemek’s lips move.

Now.

“Hey, Asher-baby,” I said, knowing that he couldn’t hear me. I held the prism in front of his face. “Remember this? Do you want to play with the shiny thing?”

Asher burbled with delight and snatched the prism from my fingers. Immediately, rainbows sprang out in every direction from its surface, its unique response to Asher’s unknown Magic.

“Carry a rainbow,” I shouted. “That’s what you told the selkie folk. Here, we are doing it for them. The oath is fulfilled.”

The mist around us trembled and shivered. I had the feeling that it was listening.

Lemek held up the little light he had powered with his lunar panel. I hoped it had enough juice to light our way out of this mess. The light, powered by last night’s moonlight, was cool and silvery.

“Capture moonlight,” I shouted. “You told the ice giants to capture moonlight. Here it is! We have fulfilled their oaths. They are no longer oath breakers!”

A woman appeared in front of me, sweeping the mist away from before her. Her face contorted with rage. I knew she was screaming, but, thanks to my mother’s ear plugs, I couldn’t hear a word she was saying.

The siren did not appear as she had in my dream. Her hair was long and white, to be sure, but there was still some trace of humanity in her face. She would have been beautiful, if she hadn’t looked quite so much like she wanted to start chopping heads off. Her eyes were midnight black and filled with madness and pain. I could not bear to look into her eyes.

I turned to the others and made a big show of shaking my head and covering my eyes.

They nodded, one by one, message received.

The siren reached towards me. I braced myself for impact.

Her fingers slid right through my arm.

Maybe it was because I had never made an oath to her, maybe there was some other reason, but she had no power over me.

She could not even touch me.

She grabbed great fistfuls of her long, white hair and arched her back, screaming and gnashing her teeth.

Only Lemek’s caution not to let my compassion endanger my family and me reminded me that, somewhere in this wild creature, was a sharp, cunning mind.

A mind that had thought up those riddles had no need for theatrics.

Unless the theatrics were a part of her manipulations and games.

She stormed around us, trying, one after the other, to touch us, to tear us. She screamed and howled, but nothing she did could penetrate our immunity.

She changed tactics. Her posture grew straighter, her face took on a charming sort of smile. She took a big, pewter comb from her belt and began to brush it through her long, white hair.

There was something hypnotic about the motion. Brush. Brush. Brush.

Her lips parted and I realize that she was singing.

I felt that I might die, if I couldn’t hear her voice.

I grabbed Timothy’s arm and turned towards the others, pulling them, grabbing their attention away from the wiles the siren displayed. The music we could not hear still pulled at us. I could almost hear the song building around us, like a storm at sea.

Still she combed and sang.

We stood together, hands clasped, our heads turned away, as she combed and combed and combed her hair.