“Keep at it!” I shout to them.
I wedge my torch into the ground in front of me, draw my sword, and prepare to greet the ravenous men. Riden stands at my side, ready to help. We barely fit side by side.
“Here,” he says and hands me his sword while he reloads his pistol. “You weren’t joking when you spoke of how much danger your crew gets into.”
“We like to keep things interesting.”
“And fatal.”
The cannibals are within sight now, sprinting full speed.
Riden pours more gunpowder into his pistol, takes aim, and fires. The first cannibal in line falls, tripping those immediately behind. Some are smart enough to jump over the mess and keep running.
I toss Riden back his sword, and we begin to fend them off. Cannibals extend as far as my eyes can see in the scanty light.
The first cannibal who reaches me has bloodshot eyes, a scar on his forehead in the shape of a K, and long, matted hair. He swings his sword down at my head, and I raise my own to deflect it. Then he tries it again. He’s quick, but after three times of this repetitious action, I sidestep as soon as he starts to move his arm downward and hack him at the elbow. His arm comes clean off, and a scream that makes me want to rip off my ears ensues. I silence it with a well-placed stab.
It takes me only one try to confirm my suspicions. The men are unaffected by my voice. Their minds have already been charmed by sirens much more powerful than I.
There is very little left of the men they once were. They have no skill with a sword. Their strikes are imprecise, ill-timed, wild—like small children with toy clubs. They are desperate, quick, emergent. You’d think they were the ones fighting for their lives and not we.
But they are fresh and full of energy, unlike us.
“One of these days it would be nice to do something normal with you,” Riden says as he punches a looming face, then stabs the cannibal in the stomach.
“I thought you were angry with me.”
“I still am, I think, but it doesn’t seem all that important when we’re fighting for our lives.”
Well, then. “What exactly did you have in mind?” I kick at my own assailant, right in the mouth. Must’ve knocked a few teeth loose.
“I don’t know. We could share a meal together.”
Share a meal? I don’t know what he’s going on about, but I say, “Oh, come now, this is far more fun.”
We keep backing up as bodies pile up in front of us. The sounds of metal striking rock continue to pound at our backs.
“I will concede that I do feel more alive when I think I’m about to die,” he says.
“You’re not going to die,” I tell him.
That’s when one of them jumps me. I’d been fighting one cannibal, and the next one, instead of waiting his turn, launches himself over the first and flattens me onto my back as my sword goes flying from my hand.
The impact would have been painful enough without the bones on the ground digging into me. Sharklike teeth bite into my shoulder, and I let out my own sort of growl. I reach my left hand up around the cannibal’s throat, squeezing and pushing those needles out of my skin. They’ve been filed down to points! They’re gnashing, eager to pierce into my skin once more. His breath is rancid. I have to choke down my last meal.
Riden is busy blocking the tunnel by himself now while I grasp around frantically for my sword. Eventually my hand finds something hard and heavy. A human femur, I think. I bring it down on the cannibal’s head, which knocks him out instantly.
I push and wiggle to get the dead weight off of me. Two seconds later I have my sword in hand again. I kill the man I’d just rendered unconscious—I don’t want him waking up ever again—while Riden holds off the rest.
I’m bleeding now, and the cannibals become even more frenzied by it. Apparently their own bleeding companions lying around the cave floors have no allure for them. It is only the unenchanted sailors unfortunate enough to land on this island that whet their appetites.
One more chink and I hear rocks cascading behind me. Light bursts through the tunnel, temporarily blinding the cannibals in front of us.
“Run!” I shout again.
The light burns my eyes as I turn, and I run blindly at first, tripping over the rocks and forest floor. But I don’t stop. My breath makes my raw throat ache, but I ignore the pain. I can only imagine how everyone else must be feeling if I’m getting tired.
They are only yards behind us. Deshel is slowed down by the body she carries, but no words would convince her to drop it. Nor would I dream of doing so. To not be buried at sea is to be damned for eternity, never finding rest with the stars.
Deros and I reach the beach first. Our strides never falter as we shove our strength into the single rowboat left for us, plunging it into the ocean. The others tumble in, and we are finally drifting off toward the ship. Toward safety.
The cannibals wade into the water. Deros and I row with every bit of strength we have left. But as soon as the cannibals get in over their heads, they falter, scrambling for purchase on the sand below, swallowing water—drowning.
They forgot how to be men long ago.
*
“What happened?” Niridia asks when we finally drag ourselves back onto the ship. “What beasts did this?” She stares in open horror at Lotiya’s body.
“Men,” Sorinda answers.
“Not just men,” I say. “Bewitched men. They were pirates once. Men from my father’s own crew.”
“How is that possible?” Niridia asks.
“On his first voyage here, my father claimed they were set upon by sirens, but not all of his men made it off the island. It would seem that those left for dead were enchanted to guard this place and feast on any who stopped on their way to the Isla de Canta.”
“How do you know they were your father’s men?” Riden asks. He stands near Deshel, who hasn’t yet dropped Lotiya’s body.
“Some of them bore Kalligan’s mark. My father’s men distinguish themselves by drawing the letter K on their foreheads. Years ago, those who wished to truly prove their loyalty would carve it into their flesh, letting the skin scar. Father’s mostly done away with that, since it makes it difficult to hide them in a crowd or to send them out as spies.”
“Just a moment,” Enwen pipes up. “You’re telling me you can bewitch men into cannibals?”
“No. I am merely half siren, and my abilities last only as long as I have song to fill a man’s ears. As soon as my song fades, the enchantment ends. It would seem that full sirens are much more powerful than I.”
Enwen sticks out his tongue in disgust, as though imagining his own life as a cannibal. Everyone else is silent as they take the new information in.