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This piece was written on the fly for a challenge posted on an image board that I frequent. The quality is generally...meh. At least in my opinion. Feel free to tear into it.
-=Siren=-
For days now, the soldier had been scouring the coastline. Beneath him on the meager sliver of beach that the island provided was his ship, or what he washed up of it.
The boatswain had heard the call of the beasts long before any others. Perhaps it was a part of their enchantment that they only affected those that were most capable of killing their compatriots. Though the soldier did not wish to think it, perhaps the boatswain was a man of weak will.
With a grumble, he forced himself off the thought and continued up toward the top of the cliffs. Night was falling and he knew that the rising tides would swallow the beach along with his chance of survival. Hand over hand he worked up the sheer stone face, using his knife and a scrap of timber for leverage wherever he could manage it.
As he neared the top, he heard the song again. The same that he had heard as he awoke in the ship, even as it tore itself apart on the rocks. Above snapping timbers and the roaring sea, the melodic voice had been so clear in his ears that he had checked to see if something was singing directly next to him. The rest up until hitting the shore was a blank haze, though he remembered that it felt warm...inherently welcoming in its own twisted way. Now that he was nearer to it, the warmth and welcome was gone. The haunting lullaby made him shiver and retch as if the sound alone could harm him now. Fighting against both his body and gravity now, he managed to scramble to the cliffs. Immediately upon reaching the top, he flopped down and began sucking in deep breaths. To try and calm himself, he took quick inventory of himself.
"I have...my sword. Yes. And...the clothes on my back. Those aren't going anywhere. And I've got my..." He closed his hand, searching for his knife. With a heavy groan, he realized that he had dropped it down into the churning sea. "No loss." He continued to lay there, breathing slowly until he heard the sound of wood shearing upon stones.
In stunned silence, he stood and moved to the lip of the cliff. The beast was still singing, and it had taken another...darker twist. Now the sound was one of absolute malice, calling for men to throw themselves to the sea. There, on the rocks a distance from the island, another ship from the battlegroup had fallen upon the stones. Even at this distance, he could see the men smiling as they leaped off of the deck and into the sea. His screams to them were drowned by the breaking of the waves and the singing of the siren. Utterly broken, he dropped to his knees as he saw the other rocks. Scores of ships had broken upon the rocks, all of them bearing the banner of his homeland. His friends, his comrades, all of them had been lost. The few bodies that he could see cast upon the meager beach were absolutely still but for those that the tide was beginning to carry away.
"We have been forsaken."
He remained on his knees for a long while, his thoughts drowned out by the song of the Siren. The wrath that it bore, the absolute hatred for man, it was unbearable. The soldier gripped the ground before him and swore. He cursed the god of battle for sending them on this war. He cursed the gods of the sea for casting them off course, and more than anything he cursed this Siren. Where legions of men had failed, a single creature had destroyed everything that he had. In a single, bestial roar, his rage manifested. As his yell faded, he realized that the siren's song had faded. Even so, he could feel what direction the sound had come from. Suddenly, his rage had direction and purpose. He would destroy the siren and avenge his fallen brothers. Even though he could not see it, he drew his sword. The worn leather of the grip was familiar in his hand, and he laughed quietly at the feel. "Seems like you're my last friend up here."
The top of the island was flat but for a single stone spire at what seemed to be the center. It was very much like the islands myth claimed to be the homes of the gods. Step by step the warrior consumed the distance between him and the spire, feeling no wear on his body despite the long climb that he had made. All that remained was the rage slowly driving him toward the slayer of his brothers.
It was then that the Siren began to sing again. The melody was quiet and somber, much different from the call of destruction she had been singing prior. As it hit him, the rage in his soul began to turn to sorrow, despite his resistance. Behind him, the men that had become his family were dead. His wife and daughter had long since died to the enemy. Now he had nothing to live for; no family to protect, no brothers to support.
He was alone.
His footsteps slowed and he looked up to the gathering twilight, tears running down his face. "Why?" he screamed upward, demanding the attention of the gods. "Why must I be punished in this way?" The sorrow began to fester and, in a spark of lucidity, it again fostered a soul full of blistering rage. He roared again, shaking his head clear of the song. "I'll not have your temptations, witch! And if the gods will not aid me, then I will destroy you in spite of them!"
The song immediately stopped and the soldier continued to move toward the spire, now breaking into a run. Perhaps it was an enchantment of the isle, or perhaps his body had simply ceased to register it, but he was able to run as fast as he could, never once stumbling or faltering. His rage continued to spin out of control as he remembered the screams of horror on the ship, men pleading for help as the hull was torn asunder. In his eyes, he again saw the fires as his city burned, sacked by an invading force. The charred form of his wife covering his child. His home and family, all destroyed in an evening. The snarling rage continued to overtake him and he pushed himself harder, faster, wishing nothing more than to see the blood of the siren fall to the ground.
In between his thunderous footfalls, he realized that the Siren was again singing. This time, her song was hard and harsh, sounding of blood and destruction. Instead of screaming for her to be silenced, he laughed and allowed himself to listen. She was urging him onward to destroy her, and he was not going to resist.
Reaching the stone spire, he found steps carved into the side of it, spiraling toward the top. At this point, the Siren's song was overpowering his senses. Even his ragged breathing and the sound of his boots on the stone were drowned under her song of destruction. Everything had faded but for his want to destroy this Siren.
As he stepped, though, he questioned himself suddenly. "Why do I want to destroy her?" he thought, though he did not know what brought it to his mind. "This is her lot, given by the gods, much as mine is..." His steps began to lose their speed and his sword begin to droop lower and lower in his grip. "What lot -do- I have with the gods now." His sprint had slowed to a walk, his eyes no longer filled with rage but with confusion. "Perhaps..." He shook his head. "What if the gods favored our enemies and we destroyed them all the same? The oracles could have misread the signs." He shook his head, driving the thought away. "No! The Siren is a monster! I must kill her!" As he said it, though, he had already begun to argue himself against it. "But she is naught but a creature. She does not know better. Perhaps...perhaps I was not meant to be here."
He had barely noticed as he reached the top of the steps, but his eyes quickly snapped to the writhing form that took up the space. Tentacles wrapped around themselves, holding the Siren above the stones as she looked at him. She was absolutely disgusting to behold but, at the same time, something about her was absolutely beautiful. Slowly he realized that she looked terrified, or as much as her slightly inhuman features would allow. "You are just a creature," he muttered. "And the gods...do not want me to kill you." Slowly his sword raised and he stared at it hard, watching as he turned the point against his own breast. "They wanted me in one of those ships." As he let himself fall forward, he realized that the Siren's song had changed long ago into a slow dirge - the one to be his own eulogy.
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