Tin Soldier

Gravity rolled through my body; slipping smoothly from one side to the other as the bed I lay on tilted indelicately. My eyes were closed, but even so, I winced as a bruised pain pressed into my skin with each movement. My tin armour only made the rest more uncomfortable, its rough edges digging into my back and pressing unsoothingly against my spine.

A distinct sound played in the air, like liquid slapping against a cobbled pavement, only louder and more furious. It was familiar, but for the life of me I couldn’t pick it, and I was much too tired to focus long. Sleep was a rare occurrence, and I took advantage of the ability wherever possible.

Coldness flickered against my face, my tongue instinctively licking over my parched lips, and tasting a bitter saltiness in the water. Prying my eyes open in confusion, I gazed upon the sight of a cloudy sky, only to get sprayed once more.

Falling to instinct, I immediately rose to my feet, gathering my surroundings in a quick survey; and disturbingly surprised at my findings. Leagues of glittering liquid circled the body of wood in which I stood, no hint of solid ground in sight.

“Ah, ye’re awake,” came a voice.

Without hesitation, I turned swiftly on my heel, ignoring the pain that seethed through the soles of my feet at the motion. Instinctively, my body had dropped into a stance, my muscles tense with the desire to flay the creature that dared cross my path but holding my ground when I eyed the voice who stood before me.

With bushy brows arched high over his blue eyes and a surprised amusement clear on his unshaven face, was a man leaning casually against the railing that bordered the ship. He was dressed as I had never before seen, in big black boots that looked nothing like the protection of a welders wear and a long sleeved dress that fell to his knees; I doubted even the poorest of women would dare be seen in it.

I narrowed my eyes at the odd man as he easily strolled against the unsteady rocking of the ship against the sea. The salty ocean breeze folded back the edges of the thick red dress he wore to reveal the clothing of a proper man. Just as quickly, my eyes widened as I realised the man’s dress was simply a fancy coat, drenched in a colour brighter than any man should ever wear.

Refusing to release my stance, I eyed the man warily, etching every inch of his movement into my memory as I studied him for a weakness. Almost habitually, the man lifted a dirty hand, trailing his fingers down the length of his black beard before repeating the movement. He seemed deep in thought as he slowly edged toward me, but I wasn’t letting my guard down.

Quicker than the man could blink, I’d pulled my blade from its sheath at my side, directing the thin sword at the man’s ruffled coat.

“Who are you?” I demanded, glowing with an unquenched thirst as my grip tightened around the leather of my blade.

A muscle twitched in the man’s face, and I noted carefully the hand that discreetly patted a bulge at his side. There was something about him that seemed a little off edge. He was dressed well, if a little strange, and yet he appeared skittish. The thought only strengthened my pose; the crazy ones were often the most dangerous.

“Yer best mind yer’e manners, lad,” the man rumbled, his voice low and threatening before he shrugged the darkness away. His frown turned to an unexpected smile, though secrets were hidden well behind his light tone. “The name’s Cook. Found yer in the sea’s mighty clutches, and ye’re lucky I did. She’s a feisty one, and how yer riled ‘er up has got me stumped.”

Speaking with an accent I’d never before heard, Cook gave me a toothy grin, shining metal gleaming over a chosen selection of teeth. He had clearly done me a favour; that much was certain in the way he stood over me, as if taking care of a sickly animal that at any moment might try to bite his head off. I wasn’t about to change his perspective, and I glowered at him, wondering how he had found me in the ocean in the first place.

“I need to get back to the Forest of Ashes,” I growled. “You need to take me back.”

Cook’s brow furrowed slightly, his cheeks tinging a slightly pink. “Forest o’ Ashes?” he asked casually crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t suppose it’s got them pretty lassies? Per’aps some rum?”

I braced myself as the ship hit a large wave, the liquid of the dark sea spraying onto the deck as the vessel continued to charge forward. For a brief moment I wondered where we were heading and who was directing the ship, but the thought disappeared soon enough when Scarlett’s beauty flashed into my memory.

“Listen,” I replied through clenched teeth. “I need to get back to her. You need to take me back to the land.”

A flush of relief washed over the pirate’s face at my words, and I watched as his uncertain glance immediately switched to one of confidence.

“I be a man of the sea, lad,” Cook exclaimed. “We’d be two days from port. There ain’t no turnin’ back.”

Fury bubbled in my chest as I ground my teeth together in pure hatred. Adrenaline was filling me quickly, the desire to rip the pirate’s throat from his worthless neck becoming more reasonable by the second. It wouldn’t take me long; he was only human, and I had fought bigger. Curving my free hand to a claw, I crouched down, grinding my feet into the wooden deck as I prepared to attack but I stopped before I could move another inch.

A voice hung in the air, singing over the waves that pounded the sides of the sturdy ship, and sending a shiver crawling up my spine. The ugliness of the song unsettled my bones, freezing my body into an unfamiliar dread. I’d been in a war, and seen the worst that could happen but by far I had never felt anything like this. With the hair on my body all standing on end.

Finally, there was a momentary silence, and I snapped from the trance in which I’d been held.

“What was that?” I snapped harshly, looking out to the tumbling sea.

Cook’s eyes turned steadily to the darkened ocean, his teeth gritting together in rage as the distant sounds of screams soiled the wind. A heavy fog began to gather, shrouding us behind a veil that I hoped formed a shield from whatever lurked outside. Forgetting my quarrel with the pirate, I backed away against the door of the cabin, my eyes scanning hastily for any sign of threat. The sea’s furious roars had dwindled into silence, her waves no longer throwing its mass against the ship. In a matter of minutes, the sea had calmed to an eerie dead silence, the likes of which was unnatural in such deep waters.

“They’ll be lookin’ for her,” Cook muttered with disgust, his voice carrying easily in the silence. “Filthy wenches.”

My lips pressed into a tight line as I gave the man a questioning look, still wary of the fogginess enveloping us in its tight cocoon. “Looking for who?” I spat.

Without a word, Cook cautiously moved forward. His steps, though as silent as he could possibly make them, still echoed in the uncomfortably small space as the pirate trudged towards the cabin door. His eyes flickered nervously around him, even after he had safely made it to my side, and I waited impatiently as he fumbled with the knob on the door.

“I’ll be warnin’ yer, laddie,” the man said, wincing as the wooden door squeaked against the hinges. “Don’t look it in the eyes. This foul creature is demon spawn. An evil temptress of the sea. Her beauty will be seducin’ yer if yer let it.”

Eager to get out of the fog, I nodded gruffly and followed the man inside, watching his back closely as he swayed slightly from side to side; probably too used to the motion of a ship and now a little unbalanced in its calmness.

The vessel’s voice grew louder with each step we took into its depths. The groans of rope rubbing intimately against each other played alongside the creaking whine of the wooden structure. Shadows danced between the pillars below deck as the lantern grasped tightly in Cook’s hand flickered dangerously in the musty air.

“Found ‘er when they attacked,” Cook explained, his voice low and grumbling. “Only yesterday it was. Singin’ their pretty song, dancin’ in the sea.” The man paused, glancing at me from over his shoulder as he pinned me with a knowing look. “Then the fog came,” he continued. “An’ one by one, they took me crewmen, rising from the black depths of the mighty sea.”

“And yet, they didn’t take you,” I noted suspiciously, my grip unfaltering from the hilt of my blade.

The words had barely left my mouth when Cook suddenly stopped. His eyes were focused on the darkness lurking before him, the light of his lantern not quite reaching past the cage of a prison.

“Wasn’t for some time,” the pirate answered solemnly. “Was in the kitchen, see, makin’ a mighty feast for the cap’n’s good fortune. Then all’s a sudden, I realise, the crew had gone quiet. Jolly, herself, made not a whisper. Not a single man left on board, but I found one o’ them.”

Stepping forward, the flickering candle of Cook’s lantern glowed deeper into the prison, shining its warm illumination on a huddled shape on the damp floor.

“She was out on the deck,” he said through gritted teeth, glaring daggers at the creature writhing on the ground. “The cap’n’s sword pinnin’ her to Jolly’s belly. Abomination’s what I call it, an’ I knew they’d be comin’ back for ‘er. Won’t let ‘em take me ship.”

Abomination was certainly a word for the monster as I peered down at it through the dim light. Dark slimy hair veined from her head in snaking tendrils, clinging to her pale skin like leeches. Scales decorated her body in small patches, growing thicker as they reached her hips. I gawked at the sight of her; her legs replaced with the tail of a fish, slamming the wooden floor with such a powerful force that I was surprised the deck still held together.

“I can see how you might call her demon spawn,” I noted, my face twisted into slight disgust. “But her beauty is lost on me. The creature is ugly.”

There was a moment of silence as Cook glanced at me with narrow eyes, suspicion written all over his face. “You don’t like the lassies?” he asked slowly.

The creature spoke before I could answer, her harsh voice muttering in what I presumed were curses of her own language. Glaring at my confused expression, the sea maiden snapped her pointed angular face at me, her words swiftly becoming familiar the longer she continued to speak.

“You have gazed upon the Melia,” she hissed, a cruel smile curling her lips. “You have seen my sisters of the land.” She bared her teeth at me. “Your soul will be ours soon enough. Soldier.”

Soldier.

My heart jolted as the siren’s cackling laugh resonated through the lower deck, a disturbing feeling creeping through me. Though it was clear what I was, with my tin armour and stealthy blade, the single word ricocheted in my brain. The piercing glare of the siren’s red eyes taunted me, as if she could see deep into my soul. As if she knew all that I had done.

A thump on the deck snapped the frozen trance I stood in, and I instinctively ground a fist to my ear as the siren began to wail. The sound felt like broken glass mincing in my head; shredding and slicing until my eyes ached with the pain. With clenched teeth, I darted forward to the cage, my sword easily sliding through an open square and piercing the siren into a stunned silence.

But her sisters had heard, and their screams sang out into the night as they called to their murdered sister. My blade was stained with the red of the siren’s blood; the sight of it filling me with the instinct of war and I knew I had to taste more.

My sword sliced through the air with a mind of its own. Hungrily seeking the blood of the water nymph that clawed across the deck. My heart sang with lustful joy at the sounds of my delightful hacking. The sound of metal against flesh, and the distinct aroma of blood striping the clean floor. I was a monster among monsters. That much was clear in the fear that filled the eyes of the sirens that circled me. They were wary, and as well they should have been. I was bloodthirsty. I wanted to bathe in the crimson pooling the wood at my feet. But my fun ended much too soon.

It took all of the strength in my body to wrench myself from the darkness of my blood thirst. As the sirens flung themselves from the deck of the Jolly Roger, I dropped to the floor in utter rage. The urge to follow the creatures back into the depths of the sea, and hunt the heads of each one was overwhelming, but the sea was not my element. There was no doubt in my mind that I would die.

Within seconds the shrieks of the mermaids had faded to nothing, and all that remained was the fog, the ship, and me. Where Cook had gone, I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t have time to ponder when a loud and thundering boom had the ship quaking beneath my feet. The sails above me shuddered, sending droplets of water upon my head, the masts quivering in the after-effect of the earth quaking thump.

“Not just anythin’ can turn a siren from ‘er sister.”

I spared a glance at the appearance of Cook, frowning as his studious eyes scanned the flat sea. Fear laced the thick black brows of the Jolly Roger’s new captain, and it was then that I knew I should worry.

A shadow deepened the black water beneath us with barely a ripple gracing the surface and I braced myself for whatever it was that lurked in the darkness. Beads of liquid dotted my forehead; the humidity of the fog forcing the air into a sweating heat but my uncomfortableness was forgotten quickly and in a split second it seemed the air was sucked from my lungs.

They came from the water, striking out in thick pillars as they pierced into the foggy sky. Gallons of the ocean fell from the heavens in buckets as the tentacles towered over the ship. Like fingers of the sea, they arched over the Jolly Roger ominously, caging her from the outside world before slamming back down to gravity. Cook’s scream was deafening, his ferocious roar hovering over the crashing waves as he uttered a single word; Kraken.

Not quite knowing what a Kraken was, I growled savagely, darting forward in my renewed bloodlust. Red oozed from the Kraken’s flesh, pooling into the already stained deck like a second coat of paint. Satisfyingly, the tentacle reared back at my relentless fight, arching up as though it were a cobra before spearing back towards me. I dodged effortlessly to the side, the knees of my trousers dampened by the liquid ground.

Suddenly, Cook let out a roar of pain, his voice crying out into the battle like the piercing wail of a whistle. Distracted by the captain’s abrupt scream, my eyes trailed to his stiff body. Seemingly unsure of himself, the man stood alone in the midst of utter destruction as he stared in horror at the end of his arm.

Melted against the spear of a mast, Cook’s arm had been nauseatingly embedded into the wood; crushed by the weighty blow of the Kraken’s might. Shards of timber impaled the limb, puncturing the red material swathed around it. There was a moment longer of hesitation as Cook tentatively stepped closer, pressing his hand against the fabric pinned to the mast and I doubted he was thinking with a clear mind when he pulled against the pain.

Wrenching his arm away with a hard yank, Cook winced in a glorious agony. The sickening rip of cloth and skin was almost inaudible within the chaos of the Kraken’s thrashing sea and yet the sound was unmistakable as the man’s arm came free from its entrapment.

Coils of flesh dripped with crimson from the stub of Cook’s arm, and I knew that it would be the end of the pirate captain. Slumping to the pooling deck, Cook writhed in pain, his sword long forgotten as he curled himself up in an obvious show of defeat.

Gnashing my teeth together in frustration, I sliced the end of a tentacle with little care, my hatred trained solely on the pathetic man lying on the deck. A sneer crawled into my lips; my steps striding purposefully towards the pirate. Thoughts invaded my head. Thoughts full of the burning desire to flay the cowardly man, but instead an idea surfaced my mind.

Fire was spreading from fallen lanterns, eating away at the remainder of the dry deck in an attempt to devour it all before it sank to the sea’s depths. Golden light flickered against my skin, the heat burning with a searing pain, but I used it to my advantage.

Snatching the closest object of metal, I burned the end in the flames of the wicked fire and forcefully pressed it to Cook’s torn arm. The wound sizzled immediately, my restraints on him failing as he desperately struggled to throw my body off of his. But I was relentless, and only once my job was complete did I finally give Cook his freedom. Only then did I realise what I had melted to his skin. In replace of the pirate’s hand was a hook.

It was at that moment that the ship finally gave, cracking down the centre as a tentacle forced its way through the wooden deck. I was falling, the ship’s vertical state no longer able to support my gravity as I tumbled into the sea below.