//------------------------------// // Busted // Story: Sirens at the Gates // by Daniel-Gleebits //------------------------------// Sirens at the Gate Small village north east of Carthago Nova, Carthaginian Province in Iberia. Spring 218BCE It became evident in their prior dealings with humans that the biggest give-away to their inhuman method of hunting was that they tended to emerge from their hunting grounds as gore-splattered as their prey. Most human hunters preferred to kill their prey from a distance, which whilst no doubt safer, didn’t fulfil Adagio’s bloodlust. Her people were efficient hunters, and not particularly cruel ones, but had a tendency to revel in their successful hunts to somewhat dramatic ends. Indeed the bear had died quite quickly once Adagio had dodged its initial pounce and snapped its brawny neck. (With a little help from Aria. Even with their unnatural strength, a bear’s musculature was nothing to sneer at, and it was best to tackle them two or three on one.) Fortunately, the high-ground that bordered the southern end of the settlement, and where their home stood, featured a tributary of a larger river that fed into the nearby ocean, meaning that they could wash themselves before re-entering the village. Aria, lacking proper garments and being smeared in enough of the former alpha’s guts to blend in with a battlefield scene, was permitted to go first, whilst Adagio hauled the dismembered pieces of the bear’s hefty body back to their home. Sonata was not yet back, and so Adagio prepared the meat alone as she dug her hands into the hot, stinking interior of the beast’s chest, pulling apart its bulbous organs and thick-walled heart. Flicking a glance over her shoulder, she tore a section of the strong muscle off and devoured it, allowing a flicker of her voraciousness to escape as she savoured the warmth and texture. There were several preservation methods open to them, but first the meat had to be dried. None of them were particularly elegant about this, since limbs and other body parts hanging from their ceiling didn’t bother any of them. Sonata’s favourite preservative was to use honey, but honey was expensive. Adagio herself preferred salt, which was abundant with trade from Africa. It was whilst she was preparing the jars that she heard the sound of hooves approaching. Adagio felt a twinge of trepidation. With their powers so diminished, the three of them had learned it was never good to draw attention to themselves, and especially not the attention fo anybody capable of doing them bodily harm. Exiting the hut, she hoped that the riders – whoever they were – would not come this far. Of course, they did. A smaller detachment of them, only five men, all wearing the bronze armour she’d seen before, only the lead rider wore a plumed helmet of white horse hair. This man lowered himself from his steed as the riders came to an abrupt halt before the siren’s hut, and with confident ease, stepped towards her. As he came to the relative border of her home, he removed his helmet. Adagio looked the man up and down. He was an impressive specimen by human standards, with tight, bulging muscles, a thick but cleanly trimmed beard following his strong jaw, and hard eyes like bits of volcanic rock. He was significantly taller than her, and twice as wide, but despite his hard features, his expression was more curious than harsh. He gave her a similar up-and-down look, and then turned his attention to the hut. “Greetings,” he said, his voice exactly as gravely as Adagio had been imagining. “Might I see inside your home?” “For what reason?” Adagio asked, frowning. The man didn’t reply, but after staring at her for a moment or two, he walked around her, and towards the entrance. “You can’t jus—“ She stopped as two of the other riders urged their horses to either side of her, their hands conspicuously on the handles of their swords. Biting her lip, and consoling herself with dark thoughts of ripping all five of them apart, she followed at the horsemen’s urging towards the hut. Inside, the man surveyed everything, his eyes raking the small building from top to bottom. Brushing some of the hanging meat aside, he looked into some of the crude crates full of preservatives, behind the pelts covering the walls, and kicked at bits of the floor, as though looking for a concealed area. Once he was done, he turned to Adagio. “You live with two others here?” “Yes,” she said, trying to keep her voice from darkening. “Where are they?” What business was that of his? “One of them is fishing,” she said. “The other is bathing.” The man looked around at the hanging meat. “And they are women of your age?” “Yes.” “And you are this village’s butchers?” he asked, his voice starting to gain a subtle inflection. “Is this bear?” Adagio thought she saw what was going on, but it was nothing she couldn’t talk her way out of. “Yes, it is,” she said, forcing some cheerfulness. “If you want some I’d get it now. The price of meat goes up over summer as game begins to migrate.” The man ignored this. “Three teenage girls hunt bears?” “Among other things,” Adagio said, risking a small laugh. “Our, um, parents trained us for it. Since we were able to walk.” “And where are your parents?” the man asked. “I don’t recognise your accent.” “No,” Adagio went on, feeling a chill run down her spine. Stupid, she knew not to tell such obvious lies. No helping it now though. “We come from the western tribes. It is our custom to hunt, and we do it well.” The man nodded slowly. “We have rumours that the three of you are magickers of one sort or another. That you use unnatural powers to hunt, and that several villagers have seen you undergoing certain rituals.” “I don’t know what they can mean,” Adagio said truthfully. She hadn’t been aware that any villagers had seen them doing any of their inhuman stunts. But if all the man had were rumours, she didn’t see what he could do about it. “Stories get passed around,” she said, trying to sound amused. “You know how it is when you move to a new place.” The man grunted, looking around again. “I can see no evidence of any such witchcraft,” he muttered. Did Adagio sense disappointment in his voice? She had to fight not to smirk as she imagined what horrific tortures and execution methods she was depriving him from inflicting upon her. “Witchcraft!” Adagio cried, trying the laugh again. “I didn’t know the stories were that wild.” “Apparently quite wild,” the man sighed. “Girl,” one of the horsemen said suddenly. Adagio looked up to see him pointing. “Is that one of your companions?” Adagio looked in the direction of his gesturing finger, and felt her heart crash down passed her diaphragm like a boulder down a gorge. Whistling a little tune, seemingly without a care in the world, Sonata made her leisurely way up the incline from the direction of the coast. Hauling a sizeable dolphin over one shoulder by its tail. As she came level with the house, she waved with her other hand. “Hey look!” she exclaimed joyfully. “I did catch one. I didn’t know they were this big!” Adagio simply stared, her lungs forgetting to expand. The dolphin was all over cuts and abrasions, as though it’d been silenced with a well-placed slash to the neck, only to be dragged from the ocean and across half a mile of land. Adagio chanced a glance at the men, and was unhappy to find them all looking dumbfounded. “Oh, hey,” Sonata began, smiling around at the horsemen. “Who’re you guys?” “Girl,” the leader breathed. He cleared his throat. “What is that?” “A dolphin!” Sonata explained, giggling. “Look how big it is!” “How did you come by it?” “I—“ Sonata stopped as she caught Adagio’s expression. “Uh, I mean, I found it. On the beach. Already dead. Totally not in the water.” Adagio mentally facepalmed. “Indeed,” the leader said slowly. “May I?” he asked, holding out a brawny hand. Sonata unslung the tail from over her shoulder, and held it out. The man took it, and gave it a heave. He scowled, looking at Sonata’s thin arms and lithe body. “You dragged this from the beach?” he added. “By yourself.” Sonata glanced at Adagio again, seeking help, but Adagio had none to give. There wasn’t really any way of lying here that she could think of. “Y-Yes,” Sonata said uncertainly. “With lots of breaks, though,” she added quickly. “It’s heavy.” The leader raised one thick eyebrow. “You don’t like that tired,” he commented, obviously taking note of Sonata’s lack of colour, sweat, or shortness of breath, although all three began to manifest as the silence trickled on. One or two of the horsemen urged their horses in Sonata’s direction. Adagio tried rapidly to think of something, anything to say. Something that would serve to get them out of this, and avoid whatever horrible fates these men might try to inflict. Proficient in taking down beasts that they were, Adagio had no delusions about being able to take down five heavily armed humans without risking severe injury or death. It only took one of those swords reaching her, and it was over. One-on-one was doable. One-on-two was pushing it. Three and above was a risk she didn’t much feel would yield good results. As her mind churned out pathetic excuse after pathetic excuse, and Sonata continued to look around as though an excuse might decide to pop out of the ground, another noise to their rights turned the group around. “Captain!” a distant voice called. Adagio felt whatever was left of her hope for a positive resolution fall flat down dead on its face. Six more horsemen galloped towards them in an arrowhead-formation, the front two holding something thin and squirming between them. Within moments the horses galloped to a halt, and the two foremost soldiers dumped their bundle to the ground with what Adagio thought unnecessary roughness. “Captain,” the foremost horseman said gravely. “We found this wretch upon the water as described, performing some obscene rite.” He pointed behind him in the direction of the tributary. “It was clothed in nothing but this.” The leader held out a hand for the wolf pelt the horseman held out to him. “Not even treated yet,” the leader muttered, grimacing at the interior. “Give it back!” Aria snarled. From her kneeling position on the floor, her arms held tight across her nakedness, her attempt at scorn and ferocity only thinly veiled the embarrassment she was obviously feeling. Embarrassment only partially aimed at her unclothed vulnerability, but mainly Adagio knew, from the fact that she’d been overpowered and humiliated. Even the fire in her purple eyes was undermined by the reluctant wetness around them. What was perhaps worse was that despite it obvious that she’d tried to clean herself, the wolf’s blood had managed to stain her back, mouth, and forearms. The leader ignored her, and turned to Adagio. “She is your third companion?” he asked. Adagio’s immediate thought was to say no, impulsively thinking that perhaps she could maybe deflect focus onto Aria, and then help her later before anything could happen. She dismissed the idea right away however. If these men had spoken to the villagers, then they knew who Aria was. “Yes,” Adagio said quietly. “Captain, I don’t know what sort of heathenism this child is involved in,” the mounted soldier began harshly, “but she managed to knock us down with unnatural strength before three of us restrained her. The leader looked sharply at Aria, and then at Adagio. Adagio couldn’t bring herself to look at him, but simply stared at the floor, her mind desperately scrabbling by this point for escape plans. Looking down at the pelt in his hands, and running his thick fingers over the deep grey fur, the leader looked thoughtful. His small black eyes were half closed as though in deep thought. Adagio, Aria, and Sonata watched him in tense expectation. Adagio’s mind went back to considering all of the horrible things humans did to people they perceived as magical. As each fresh wave of fear hit her, she felt it feeding her anger. If it came to it that he proclaimed death upon them, then at the very least they wouldn’t get it easy. With eleven of them it would be messy, and probably not even possible that the three of them would survive, but they’d take down a few in the struggle. The leader looked up. “This may be what we were sent to find,” he said, his voice low and thoughtful. He pointed at the four men he’d arrived with. “You men will remain here and supervise their departure. The rest of you with me.” “Departure?” Adagio echoed, furious to hear her voice sound so shaky. “What are you going to do with us?” The leader paused as he reached his horse. “You have some idea that we’re here to punish you,” he guessed, looking at her face. “I don’t know what is planned for you, but I find it hard to believe that the general would send us out to find and execute witches just before the war begins. No, he will find a use for you. We shall need an and all advantages we can find.” “War?” Sonata piped up. “What war?” “With the Romans,” the leader said, mounting his steed. He looked to one of the remaining soldiers. “They may have half an hour to prepare. Get that one dressed. We ride out with the volunteers after that.” With a shake of the reins, he and the six who’d found Aria rode back into the village centre. Adagio looked up at the four seated horsemen still watching them. None of them spoke, but all of them had the same implacable expression on their face. She and the others had no choice. “Bastards,” Aria swore under her breath. “Ass holes. Whoresons. I hope someone nails their mother’s entrails to a tree!” “Do we really have to go with them?” Sonata asked despondently as she packed a pelt sack full of dried meat. “I don’t wanna leave. I want to eat that dolphin.” “We’ll have to leave for now,” Adagio said quietly, picking up a wooden box. “And we’ll have to be more careful from now on.” “Like I said,” Aria growled, ripping on a new tunic and nearly tearing the seam. “Yes,” Adagio whispered, opening the box. “Like you said.” The red gems within glittered from under their wrapping cloths. Powerless as they were, they remained the last vestige of their old lives. Snapping the box shut again, she rammed it into the bag with the dry meat. Sonata looked at the bag, and then at Adagio, her expression stricken. “We’re taking...” she said weakly. “We really are leaving.” “For now,” Adagio repeated quietly. “Keep them safe, Sonata. We don’t need people trying to steal them.” Sonata’s tense expression hardened into resolve. She nodded, flashing a look towards the door, and the men outside. “You sure it’s alright giving them to her?” Aria muttered in Adagio’s ear. “Shouldn’t we each carry our own?” “Less likely to find them if only one of us has the box,” Adagio replied under her breath. “And lets face it. Of the three of us, she’s the least suspicious.” Aria seemed about to argue the point, when Adagio held up the wolf pelt. Aria’s lip twisted, but snatching the pelt back, she said nothing more. “So where are we going?” Aria asked the town’s blacksmith. Or rather, the town’s former blacksmith. “North, I think,” Salicar said. “The siege of Saguntum is over, so we’re to go there whilst the recruits move up from Qart Hadasht and other places.” “And why exactly are you coming?” Adagio asked, trying to sound politely interested. “What’ll the village do without you?” “Hamil is taking over as blacksmith,” Salicar replied. “He’s not as good as me, but it’s worth letting him try things on his own until I get back.” Adagio raised her eyebrows. “You sound confident that you’ll survive this. I’ve seen wars before. Life expectancy isn’t exactly in the ‘likely’ category.” Salicar grinned, twitching his thin black beard. “I’m a smith. I’m not going to be in the actual battles.” Aria scoffed. “You know, for a big guy, you’re kind of a coward, aren’t you?” Adagio sighed internally. Ever since they’d realised that the three of them were functionally immortal, all three had learned not to develop overt attachments to anyone they came across. In a world where most people were expected to die before the age of thirty, it just wasn’t healthy. Given their natures, it hadn’t been too difficult, especially for Adagio, who at the best of times was scornful of human beings. Even those that she had occasionally companioned with, it was always merely physical with no emotional attachment. Aria and Sonata on the other hand, well... Aria’s abrasiveness often put her at odds with anyone she came into contact with, but this was still a form of contact, and sometimes this bizarrely led to the sort of friendship that she and Salicar shared. It was like some odd form of bromance, or fraternity relationship, except that Aria was female. “Care to test that statement, little lady?” “How about we save it for when we can get some drinks,” Aria answered, waving him off. “Humiliating big strong men after wine makes the victory taste sweeter.” Giving Salicar’s brawny bronze arms a playful squeeze, Aria flashed her teeth in a half-mocking, half challenging way. Salicar hefted the bag over his shoulder, and merely smiled. “You didn’t answer my question,” Adagio said companionably. “Why are you here?” Salicar shrugged. “Same as the others, I guess. I want to do my part. Can’t let the Romans push across the Iber or they’ll think they can come down here with impunity.” “I thought Saguntum was north of the Iber,” Adagio pointed out. Salicar waved dismissively. “It’s the same principle. Eventually they’ll push and they’ll push, and before you know it we’ll have legionaries planting eagles in the village square. This war has been coming from the beginning,” he said. “Hannibal’s been saying it for years, I heard. And I reckon he’s right. They say his father knew it back in his day, and prepared Hannibal to take the fight to the Romans first.” Adagio considered this. In the few hundred years she and the others had been in this world, she’d long known of Carthage. An ancient and powerful maritime empire descended from a race called the Phoenicians who hailed from the far east. Their name inspired fear in all those whose business was conducted by sea, and any whose interests lay in trade of any sort. It was said that all coins in existence had passed through a Carthaginian’s hand at least once. The Romans on the other hand had been a relatively minor power when they’d first heard of them, a small kingdom on the Italian peninsula. Comfortable on land, they’d spent their time quietly assimilating their neighbours, somewhere Adagio had not been before. But eventually their territory had grown to the point where theirs and Carthaginian interests had come into inevitable conflict, and so they’d gone to war. They were the only two major powers in the region (so far as Adagio knew), and to her surprise, Rome had won. She’d had a bet going with Aria for a collection of honeyed deer’s eyeballs that Carthage would sweep a quick victory. By the time the war ended over twenty years later, Adagio claimed that she’d misplaced the prize. Whilst she was ignorant of most of the political machinations that went on behind the scenes, word spread far and wide of the general affects of the war, and it was clear that Rome was not to be underestimated. Carthage relied heavily upon using its money to fight, where as the Romans typically used swords. She did not relish the thought of having to be in the path of the dreaded Roman war machine. Fervently she hoped that whatever they’d been roped into, it was a logistical role like Salicar’s. Two days later The former Greek city of Saguntum The road to Saguntum was a relatively uneventful one, but came with a thoroughly sobering sight for Adagio. As they closed in on the defeated city, they came across the remnants of the eight month long siege that had taken place: ruined farms and desiccated buildings, the picked bones of animals scattered across the road and the neighbouring countryside, and the grisly signs of warning stretching the main road to the city. Strong stakes planted into the ground bore signs that they had previously been occupied by the bodies of the fallen, although whether Greek, Carthaginian, or otherwise it was impossible to say. But none of this was what made Adagio think perhaps they had been brought into something they hadn’t bargained for. She’d seen worse. What gave her pause was the large numbers of men seemingly heading in the same direction, some heavily armed and marching in step, others on horseback, others looking like little more than bandits held back only by the guard of horsemen that were escorting their group. Still others looked like their own group: ordinary people with mingled expressions of fear and determination staring straight ahead to the distant trails of smoke still rising from the object of their trek. “Still think we shouldn’t have tried to run for it?” Aria muttered to her as the walls of the city came into view. Adagio bit her lip but made no response. The idea had been raised early in the trip by both Aria and Sonata, but Adagio had rejected it. Coerced as they were into whatever service awaited them, she had no doubt that their mounted escorts were anticipating runners, and as swift footed as she and her fellow sirens were, they were no match for horses on open terrain. A statement that even in her mind still made her stomach churn, given what might once have been... “Cheer up,” Salicar said robustly. “We might get to see him.” “Who?” Sonata asked, frowning at the great scorch marks and cracks in the walls surrounding the main entrance gate. “Hannibal,” Salicar answered eagerly. “Don’t you want to know what he looks like?” “I expect he looks as most men do,” Adagio said, repressing a sneer. “At least there’ll be somewhere to get that drink,” Salicar quipped, eying Aria as they paused a moment whilst the guard by the gate conferred with the escort captain. Aria narrowed her eyes as they emerged from the shadow of the second wall. “I’m beginning to doubt that,” she muttered grimly. Adagio couldn’t argue the point even if she’d wanted to. As long as they’d lived in the human world, she, Aria, and Sonata had been lucky or wise enough to stay away from battlefields in progress. They had a nasty tendency to suck you in even if you’re not part of it. Consequently, none of them had had a first-hand experience with the aftermath of a defeated city. The three of them were no strangers to sadism. As efficient as they were during their hunts, personal feelings sometimes entered the predator-prey dynamic. Aria’s relatively new wolf pelt was a testament to that. But upon catching sight of the city’s interior, it had to be said that human beings seemed to have more of an imagination for making an example and inflicting retribution. The overwhelming stench of blood polymerised with the equally bitter stink of burnt wood and stone. Smoke hung over the buildings like the resting wings of some enormous creature of ill fortune, casting its grim shadow across the city in the form of scorch marks, blood splatters, and the occasional corpse that had yet to be removed. But what attracted all of their eyes was the enormous pile of corpses already gathered in one side of what was once the city’s market. Whilst many of the bodies seemed to have been casualties of the battle, others appeared to have more uniform wounds indicative of execution. Many of these hung from posts or from wooden walkways, whilst along sets of stone steps stood like grisly ornaments the severed heads of men and women on spikes, their bloated, sagging faces stretched in warped screams that none living could hear. “This stinks,” Sonata said morosely. “Well done, Sonata,” Adagio murmured, with the faintest twinge of wryness. “You managed to combine an idiom with a statement of fact.” - To be Continued