My face twisted, and I turned, walking to the ship’s ledge and charting the rising sun’s progress. I still had time to convince Rylander to turn around. I grunted, grinding my teeth. Maybe if I swallowed my pride and begged, he’d listen. I drew in a deep breath; my hands clenched and unclenched as I gave a quick nod to the seas. I had to try. With one more glimpse at the horizon, I readied myself for another battle of tongues. This time, I wouldn’t stop until we were headed back toward the safety of the nearest port.

A dark patch in the waves four hundred meters out stilled my boots. The area twisted and moved as one mass but didn’t take the shape of a whale or shark. I squinted, trying to decipher the source. A floating island, a school of fish, remnants of a sunken ship? I leaned forward, the railing pressing into my stomach. My mouth dropped as the sea began to boil and bubble with a light coating of foam. The murky shape crept closer and closer.

No… it couldn’t be… Not yet.

I clenched my hand into a fist. “Sound the alarm. We’re under attack!” But what would we do? Where would we go? We had no weapons, no line of defense, nothing to ward off the enemy.

“Rylander,” Krinny shouted into the hull, “they’re here. Should I move the men?”

“Yes, now.” Rylander jumped down from the crate he stood on, never glancing my way. “Get them below deck.”

As I watched the exchange, my mouth opened then shut then opened with a roar. “What the hell are you two doing?”

No one answered. Instead, Krinny signaled to Rylander’s men. They obeyed her command putting wax in their ears and running toward the soundproof rooms.

With any luck, it would be enough to keep them safe. But what about the rest of us?

My head snapped back toward the water as siren heads emerged from the sea. Their red hair overlapped like a floating crimson seaweed garden as they hissed and gasped around the ship. By now, I had hoped Rylander’s men were out of ear shot. The rest of my crew secured their weapons to their belts and boots. All we were left with was our blades.

I pivoted around to see Rylander giving some of my crew further directions. He didn’t look at me, but by the way he turned just slightly toward me I knew he was aware of my presence, if not my anger. His voice rose with his commands. “Now, Krinny.”

“Drop the anchor,” Krinny yelled. She held up her hand and curled her middle and ring fingers into her palm, waving her arm.

My cheeks burned with rage as I watched her silent directives. How were the two of them so coordinated?