Chapter Eight
Dimitris
Jagged, deep-gray cliffs came into view, black shale jutted in shards as tall as any man from both sides creating a blockade to any who tried to seek shelter on land.
The sky was muted, clouds surrounding the isle, dampening the pale blue skies they had sailed under the last few days.
Green-black sea slapped against the hull of the Aphrodite with a tumultuous crack, splintering wood with every white capped wave.
Thunder began the rumble above, the sparking of lightning adding to the violent sound of the incoming storm.
Holding firm to the ship’s wheel, Dimitris attempted to shake the rain-soaked tendrils of his hair out of his eyes.
With the strength of the wind, he didn’t dare remove one of his hands to wipe the pieces away for fear the wheel might spin out and send them hurtling straight for the wretched shore they so narrowly were avoiding.
It was reckless—he knew that—risking the narrow strait that cut through Siren’s Cove, but it would take a day off their journey.
They needed every extra moment they could capture, especially as they raced against the delay traveling to Lesathos caused.
The Nostos was never able to use the strait, due to her wider beam, but Cal had captained smaller ships through before and had given Dimitris strict warning to travel the channel in the center, else they would be nothing but splintered wood and flesh cast along the shore.
The air turned sour and the wheel struggled against his grip, begging to turn out to starboard.
Gods-damned sirens. Their call could lure even a ship to the wretched depths of the sea.
Dimitris’s arms strained once more against the will of the storm, gripping the handles so tightly his fingers may very well break off.
Only four of them aboard the Aphrodite were immune to the call of the creatures that lurked below—Cal, Thalia, Dafne, and himself.
All blessed by the Grechi in one way or another.
Dafne was locked away in Thalia’s bathing chamber, retching what little she’d had for breakfast, and Thalia was tending to the sails as the forceful winds threatened to tear holes straight through the cloth.
That left Cal and Dimitris as the only two who could sail the ship through, each taking turns until the other was rested from the strain of guiding the ship through the wake, wind, and monsters of the sea.
“Captain, we have a problem!” Cal called through the pouring rain, droplets hitting him sideways in the face below his strained eyes. “The beasts are clawing their way through the sides of the ship, she is taking on more water than the men below can handle!”
Fuck, those wretched sirens were as vindictive as they come.
They would sink the ship, angered that their prey had not sacrificed themselves to the deep beneath.
Every man aboard the ship had come prepared with small balls of wax to place in their ears, blocking out the luring call of the winged creatures.
He would not allow a single member of his crew to be condemned to the seas.
“How many?” Dimitris called back.
“Around fifteen that I can count, maybe more below the waterline.”
“Can you repair the hull for the men? We don’t have enough tar to patch the damage from that many of them.” If Cal could do enough to get them through the next few miles they would be in the clear. Based on the charts they’d reviewed earlier, they were nearing the end of the strait.
“You won’t make it at the helm long enough for me to mend all the damage, you’re already burning out. You need rest!” His uncle was right. He had been fighting against the thrall of the storm for too long and his energy was fading.
“I will be fine! The Aphrodite will not! Please, Cal.”
Shrieking came from both sides of the ship, where the winged beasts had begun to claw their way up toward the rails.
Each one looked different, varying shades of hair cascading down their bodies.
Matching colored leathery wings splayed from their backs, ending in black talons the size of the daggers sheathed along Dimitris’s chest. The tops of their bodies were hidden behind the flowing hair from their head, but they were distinctively female, luscious curves down to their hips where the human form turned to a scaled tail.
The shrill voices were nothing like the enchanting calls they made while beneath the water’s edge.
“Thalia! We need you to handle this!” Dimitris yelled up at the seer, who dangled from a rope tied to the mast, adjusting the halyard of the mainsail.
Her quiver was tossed back and forth in the gale-force winds as she descended without even using her hands, reaching behind and plucking the bow and an arrow from behind her.
She aimed at the first siren as she was still midair.
The arrow flew from the seer’s bow, meeting its mark right between the beast’s black-slit eyes.
Thalia landed as graceful as a cat on the deck, despite its slippery floor from the pouring rain.
“On your left!” he screamed once more over the howling of the creature’s sisters.
Thalia spun, pulling two more arrows from her quiver and sent them spiraling toward a second beast, this one with shimmering blonde hair and sanguine lips.
The siren cried, its mouth opening wide, with the impact of the two arrows protruding through its wings.
Two rows of spindly teeth chomped down on the air as it used its injured wings to crawl toward the seer on the deck.
“Cal! Now would be a good time to start the repairs!” Thalia yelled toward the older man, knocking another arrow and hurtling it through the blonde siren’s heart. The creature crashed to the deck with a resounding thud.
Dimitris’s uncle raced to the port side of the Aphrodite, where Thalia had just killed the two ascending adversaries.
He twisted his two hands, bringing them in toward each other in front of his chest before pulling them apart as if he was tightening a rope.
Crackling wood sounded from below, pieces fabricating out of the air.
Moving his hands once more in the same manner, the God of Craft worked swiftly to heal the holes that the siren had gouged out of the wood.
Another siren breached the rail on the starboard side this time, splinters of wood flying in the air as it scraped its claws racing toward Thalia.
It was faster than the other two, moving too quickly for Thalia to pull a fifth arrow.
She reached for the sword slung at her hip, unsheathing the silver blade and swinging it up just in time to halt the talon that swung for her head.
The siren screamed, spit flying from its mouth as it tried to sink its teeth into Thalia’s neck, but just as ferociously the seer slipped a dagger from her thigh and rammed it into the beast’s chest.
Thalia flung the siren off her and raced toward the starboard rail. “It looks like they are retreating under the ship!” she called. “But the patches on this side aren’t holding, Cal!”
Cal looked between the seer and the prince, and Dimitris signaled for him to go, even though his arms felt as if they would fall from his body.
He only needed to hang on a little longer.
With adept skill, Cal turned his power toward the other side, weaving wooden planks into existence from the energy that brewed in the storm.
The ship rattled as the gouges were plugged with the glowing wood-like material and a large gust of wind hit the sail sending the wheel spiraling.
Dimitris lost his grip, his strength finally waning.
The boom of the mainsail barrelled across the ship and Cal hit the deck, but then it miraculously straightened.
“I’ve got you.” With an unlikely strength, Thalia stood at the helm, guiding the Aphrodite back to her course.
“It is too much for you!” Dimitris chastised.
“The storm breaks ahead, I can manage the wheel for that distance. You won’t make it if you keep trying to fight the storm without rest. Take my bow and make sure we don’t have any lingering beasts.”
“I—” he was cut off by the seer.
“Do not argue with me, fengaráki, I have no patience left today.”
With a shallow inhale Dimitris said, “As you wish.”
He took the bow from where she had tossed it beside the ship’s wheel, plucking the handful of arrows that remained in her quiver, and slid across the deck to survey if any sirens had returned to attempt to sink the ship once more.
No screams came from the water below, nor was there the distinctive scratching of talon on wood echoing in his ears.
Dimitris turned back to make sure Thalia was still managing to hold the ship steady, but she stood as steadfast as ever.
What a glorious sight it was to behold—the wind and rain tangling with her moon-white hair as it whipped around her face, streaming backward below her tricorn hat, determination and a touch of elegance in the way her body held firmly against the storm.
A fighter.
A soldier.
A captain.