Jesse Bullington - The Sad Tale of the Brothers Grossbart

As the first syllable left her mouth the gentle waves cupping the boat glowed, and as her voice rose so too did the sea emit brighter and brighter luminescence, a sea-foam-shaded light shining on her joyous face. For all the ages she had lived and all the leagues she had swum, the thrill of the song remained the rarest and sweetest delight, a feat possible only on a sojourn to the dry world. It being the last opportunity she might have for millennia to enjoy herself in such a fashion, she sang all the louder, summoning all of her world who might listen to the requiem of her voiceless, earth-treading days.

Merli jumped over the side of the boat in his dream and regained his senses when a very real wave swallowed him, the giant sailor instantly aware that for him every seaman’s nightmare had been realized. A large black shadow bobbed out of the glowing wave beside him, and he knew it boded ill. Like any drowning man, his body reacted before his mind could halt it and he kicked toward the shape, desperate for anything to cling to, but then Merli saw orange eyes flicker on the shadow and on dozens of similar creatures all around him. His fingers brushed scales and spines and he went under, and whether they spirited him down to behold unimaginable splendors or devoured him on the spot is not recounted here.

Al-Gassur awoke without realizing he had fallen asleep and, rubbing the salt from his eyes, saw Barousse release the anchor. It splashed in front of the ship, the cable uncoiling from its spool. Sitting up, the Arab felt his eyes fill with tears as he heard the sweetest song imaginable drifting from just over the bow. Then a shadow fell from the top of the high mast into the glowing sea, plummeting as silently as the anchor.

Below deck, Angelino, Giuseppe, Lucian, Karl, and Sir Jean drowned in their nightmares, their dreamships dashed on the music dripping down through the planks. Raphael had risen to piss and, seeing Martyn’s head submerged in the water barrel, yanked him out, only to have the cardinal shove him off and submerge himself again.

Atop the foremast Leone stared at the end of the crossbeam from which Cosimo had jumped, too startled to move. On the rear mast Hegel attempted to prevent Manfried from doing the same while not slipping himself, one hand wrapped in the rigging, the other clutching Manfried’s breeches while his brother tried to scramble to a higher diving point. Then a horrible groaning smothered her song, the entire ship jerked to the side, and even those in the depths of their night visions started awake.

In the dark men tumbled out of their berths into one another, slamming into the forecastle walls as the ship violently tilted. The barrel upended all over Martyn and Raphael, and the young brigand rolled in the water, keeping Martyn’s head above the shallow surface and slapping the Christ back into him. The cardinal began hacking up water and his eyes focused on Raphael, who released him and joined the sailors rushing up the ladder.

A second shock rattled the masts, and the suddenly suicidal Manfried’s head knocked against the crossbeam with enough force to loosen his teeth. The rigging Hegel gripped swung him away from the mast and his brother, and before it swung back Hegel saw Manfried open his eyes and shakily stand on the crossbeam. Hegel screamed impotently, but instead of jumping to his doom Manfried turned and snatched at his swinging brother. Her song unbroken, the Brothers locked eyes, blood leaking through the gaps in Manfried’s grin.

“Witchery out a hand yet?” Manfried helped Hegel untangle his arm from the ropes.

“Fuck that witch and double fuck Barousse he tries to keep us from righteousness!” Hegel began descending the mast, the light of the sea brighter than the moon.

“Hey!” Manfried noticed Leone standing on the opposite crossbeam, his head tilted down at the water. The sailor did not hear, carefully edging toward the end of the sail. Knowing what he was about, Manfried snatched out a dagger and hurled it at the man. His aim true despite the rocking vessel, the blade stuck in Leone’s leg and sent the man spinning off the crossbeam. He disappeared with a crash into the hold, which was better than the sea by Grossbart reckoning.

Al-Gassur followed as she quit the bow and made for the stern, throwing himself at her feet. She raised the Arab up with her voice, her discarded sheet entangled on the figurehead. Her body blinded him, not with lust but with awe. Stroking his chin, she stole his heart as sharply as if she had done it with a knife.

Dropping off the mast, Hegel saw them and moved to crack her head open when the ship again tipped and he lost his footing. Karl led the charge from below and was therefore the first to tumble down the suddenly steep deck and over the railing. His pick embedded in the planks, Hegel shot out his hand and seized the sailor’s arm. With Hegel secured in place Karl’s legs dangled over the edge, and as the ship teetered further, a wave splashed onto the deck, immersing the sailor for a moment.

As the glowing water retreated, Karl shrieked and Hegel caught sight of a long shadow beside the man that disappeared with a splash. Hegel hoisted Karl back onto the ship, Angelino and Giuseppe arriving to help as the ship rocked back the other way. Karl kept screaming and as he toppled onto the men they saw that from the belly down nothing remained but strings of meat. While they all slid down the deck entrails spilled out from where Karl’s legs ought to have been, his would-be saviors coated in his blood, the man’s scream finally catching in his throat at the realization that he was dead.

Rodrigo slipped in the spilled water below deck and knocked the wind out of himself when he fell. Lucian and Raphael hung on to the ladder as the ship pitched about, and then emerged to the sight of a radiant ocean and Karl’s upper half gliding across the deck. The waves had climbed along with her song, blazing spume crashing over the railings and soaking all. Manfried released his grip on the mast when the ship settled as much as it was likely to, and he saw her shove the Arab toward the edge and flee back to the bow. Manfried gave pursuit, the sprawled trio of Hegel, Giuseppe, and Angelino finding their footing as she danced past them onto the platform.

Between the rising groans of the timber and her song the men’s shouts went unheard by each other, but all were clear on their purpose. Angelino’s dread became complete when he saw that not only was the anchor dropped and doubtless moored, but Barousse stood before the windlass used to winch it up with his sword drawn. The woman stepped behind him, singing directly into his ear, and then she turned and let her song bound out across the roiling, luminescent ocean. With each note the sea grew fiercer despite the still air, and the taut anchor cable tugged the nose of the ship down so the figurehead could kiss the sea before rearing back up.

Al-Gassur held on to the open lid of the hold as the ship swayed, and he saw the barely alive Leone sprawled in the shallow water atop the layers of hidden gold bars. Had the hold contained seawater and caught fish instead of Barousse’s fortune topped with a little fresh water the man might not have broken his hips when he fell from the mast. Al-Gassur reached out to Leone and drew Manfried’s dagger from where it jutted out of the sailor’s thigh.

Martyn raved and prayed below deck, wondering if perhaps all was not as the Grossbarts claimed and he, through no fault of his own, championed sinners instead of saints. Sir Jean’s limited knowledge of sailing and his absolute terror propelled him through the storeroom door with a satchel in each hand. Rodrigo tried to stop him and was promptly knocked unconscious by the crazed knight, who opened the ship’s only porthole and shoved the satchels out into the sea in a desperate gambit to lighten the load, radiant water rushing in with each sway of the ship.