#HistFicThursdays - Ravenser Odd - Free Short Story

Later this year, a Ravenser Odd exhibition will be shared at Cleethorpes and Grimsby, not far from where the ill-fated island was situated. Last year, I was delighted to chat with Emily, whose PhD has been instrumental in the research and promotion of Yorkshire's Atlantis, and we talked about how the island had inspired this story, adding to the cultural evolution of the legend of of Ravenser Odd.

It's a long read, but I hope you enjoy it...

Ravenser Odd 

I had lived all of my fifteen years in Ravenser Odd.

In my earliest memories it had been a busy town, the docks lined with ships of all sizes, carrying garments and foods from the mystical continent beyond the mouth of the Humber. Then, aboard one of those ships, arrived the plague. Forced to anchor at the toll on the peninsula, the ship had paid a deadly tax upon Ravenser Odd, carrying away half its population on the riptide of the Black Death. When the low-lying land had flooded, forcing out many of the surviving inhabitants, it had also cleansed the town of pestilence.

That had been five years ago.

I, like many of the town’s orphaned children, had been left. We had watched ships sail past, no longer stopping to pay the toll, but gliding untaxed towards the prospering inland waters. The empty town was our playground in the summer months and a battleground in the winter. I saw my friends become my enemies as we fought for what little food was to be found, and it was only with Hilda that I established anything close to friendship.

Then, two years ago, Geoffrey Quinn had arrived, carrying a royal charter and the right to tax the merchant vessels. Ravenser Odd sprang to life. Sailors, lawmen, merchants, and every manner of man returned to the town. The buildings were repaired and the banners flew over the courthouse again. Geoffrey Quinn had saved Ravenser Odd.

He was a typical kingsman. He revelled in his lauded position, accepting the praise and adoration of the townspeople with a lifted chin and a constantly haughty expression. But Hilda and I had become adept at celebrating his pageants by taking the food from his larder while he was occupied.

With such an attitude, it was unsurprising Geoffrey made enemies. His greatest was the sheriff, Hugh Saddleworthy. The two competed in everything from marriage proposals to wrestling. Both men were built like oxen and their spars could last for hours at a time. Another opportunity for Hilda and me to fill our stomachs.

I liked Hugh. He was fair, although he warned me on plenty of occasions that he would have me hanging from the docks if he ever caught me thieving. I always replied that I would make sure he never caught me, to which he laughed and pushed me on my way. But when they found Elinor Mowbray, his betrothed, drowned in the sluice not two moons from their marriage, he had become a bitter man. Rumour had it, Geoffrey had forced an advance on her and drowned Elinor for refusing him.

Whatever the truth of the feud between the two men, it ended abruptly as November closed around the town of Ravenser Odd.

Hilda and I were skulking in the shadows of the tall dockyard buildings, waiting for the workers to leave so we could take shelter away from the gale which was whipping up on the sea, sweeping down from the frozen lands to the north and coasting along the shore with a determination to lose none of its bite. I was waiting for the workers to discard any money or morsel, while Hilda stared at the door to the tavern, hoping to catch a similar offering from the sailors.

Night was upon us and shadows stretched away from the flickering lights of the dockyard. There was no moon, and the wind was prising its way through the cracks in the lantern’s bars trying to extinguish the flames. I pulled my patched shirt around me, willing myself to warmth rather than feeling it.

I stumbled backwards as someone pushed past. He had come from nowhere, his lips aglow with vehement curses, and others followed in the same manner. There was no sign they were worried by the dark or what it held. The five men ran towards the tollkeeper’s office.

Rubbing my shoulder as I pushed myself to my feet, I leaned down to pick up the two coins which had spilt from one pocket or another. I didn’t feel guilty doing so. After all, they had pushed me down. This was the least they could offer in return.

“Are you hurt?”

I looked across at Hilda and shook my head, opening my hand to reveal the two coins. “We’ll eat like lords tomorrow,” I laughed.

“Good,” she replied, as blunt and obvious as ever. “I’m starving.”

I smiled across at her, tutting as she tried to palm one of the coins. I had taught her well, but not well enough to outsmart me. “I’ll hold onto it for now. I found it.”

She kissed my cheek and we stepped towards the centre of the town. Then stopped. Turning around slowly, we looked in the direction the five men had run. I had heard all sorts of sounds from the sailors and dockside workers as I moved in the shadows, choosing my moment to rob them: drunken revelry; lustful moans; the whimpers and pleas of beaten men. But I had never heard a grown man scream.

“What was that?” Hilda’s face glowed in the darkness. I could feel my own beading with sweat, despite the wind. “We should go and see.”

“You’re one fish short of a barrel,” I hissed. “You don’t run towards sounds like that, you run away from them.”

Settling on a compromise, Hilda and I hid in the dark street and waited. There was no sound over the wind and, in the dark, it was impossible to see anything except for the spray which soared in giant waves before being pulled back to earth once more. Finally, over the pounding of the wind-lashed sea, there came another sound. Footsteps, laboured and stumbling. We stared in disbelief as the five men returned carrying a body between them. It didn’t matter that we couldn’t see the face of the corpse, there was only one man who would have been in the office at the peninsula’s tip: Geoffrey Quinn.

“Got what he had coming to him,” Hilda whispered, immediately begging pardon from God for speaking ill of the dead. She took my wrist. “We should go. Lir’s brewing a storm, and his temper will break over the harbour soon.”

I turned to her, surprised she had referenced the pagan god. Such things carried a sentence in Ravenser Odd, and Hilda was usually the first to obey the church’s laws. But she must have seen more than I had managed, for her eyes were wide and her chin trembled under the strain of keeping her face calm.

Although I knew she was right, I felt intrigue gain the better of me. What had she seen which had left her in such a state? I pressed the two coins into her hand and shook my head.

“Go back. I’ll meet you in the morning.”

Hilda did not argue. She took the coins and faded into the shadows of Ravenser Odd’s darkened streets. Now free to follow the other men, I crept out of my hiding place and moved along the waterfront in the direction they had gone. It didn’t take long to reach them. Their heavy steps, both agitatedly pulling them forward and fearfully holding them back, were the only sign of life in the town. They were carrying Geoffrey in an undignified way, four of the men each bearing a limb while the fifth was carrying something in a cloth, holding it as far away from him as he could. In the muted light, it was impossible to see more, but my curiosity was piqued and I moved quietly along the road behind them.

They stopped at the house of Hugh Saddleworthy, glanced at each other, before one finally struck the timbers. This was an exchange I wanted to witness. Hugh hated Geoffrey, and the tollkeeper felt the same way about the sheriff. Perhaps Hugh had killed Geoffrey. Or perhaps the arrogant man was not dead at all, only drunk. But then why had that man screamed? And what was the object the first man still carried at arm’s length?

There was a hole in the shutters of Hugh’s house. I knew of it because Hilda had been caught once and I had followed her accusers here, watching to make sure she was safe. Hugh had dismissed the men, fed Hilda, then sent her out. Now, I balanced myself on the water butt and pressed my face to the coarse wood, peering through. There was light in the room, bright and glaring, making my eyes water before I could focus on the view.

At once, I wished I had not.

Geoffrey Quinn was certainly dead. His eyes were still open, staring into the light with wide pupils. This, I was relieved to find, was the first thing Hugh corrected, pulling down the man’s eyelids. I was not sure I would ever forget that expression. But it wasn’t the worst thing about the corpse, and I found myself leaning back with a taste of bile forming in my throat. This must have been what Hilda had seen. I set my hands on the wooden boards and forced myself to look through.

Blood covered Geoffrey’s chin and cheeks where it had spilt from his mouth. His face looked as pale as snow, making an even sharper contrast with the deep red. That was when I realised what they were talking about. Hugh, still in his nightclothes but with a heavy fur over them, pointed to the object the first man carried. It was difficult to hear their voices, the wind whistling as it whipped through the thin alleys, and I strained my ears.

“Is that what I think it is?” Hugh’s voice held a sickened tone, his features twisting in disgust to match.

“His tongue.”

“The same as Elinor?”

I heard myself gasp, choking on my breath as I tried to make sense of what I had just discovered. No one had mentioned this gory detail about the young woman. Though, seeing the horror before me, I could understand their silence.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” asked one of the men, his tone almost hysterical, and I suspected this had been the man whose scream had first alerted me to this macabre series of events.

“Ravenser Odd should never-”

“Quiet!” hissed Hugh, silencing them. “It’s children’s stories, nothing more. Whoever did this was a man of flesh, blood, and bones. I suspect it was a man who objected to the toll or how Quinn chose to extract it. I know he has been secreting wealth away. I want it found, or I shall hang his body from the church tower.”

I leaned back, forgetting for a moment how precariously I was balanced, and almost toppled from the water butt. Still in a daze, I lowered myself to the ground. Nothing I had heard made any sense. Why had Geoffrey had his tongue removed? Why had poor Elinor? She had been a gentlewoman, kind and caring. How had Hugh known? And then, with a realisation of ignorance which chilled my blood and rooted me to the spot: who was the woman they believed responsible?

I don’t remember making my way back to the church doorway where Hilda and I slept. I didn’t sleep that night. Instead, I leaned away from Hilda and wrapped my arms around me, afraid of the revelation I had made, but more frightened by the questions which remained unanswered. I could not remember ever feeling this way. I had been afraid, of course. During my three years of living on the empty streets I had been afraid I would starve, or afraid one of the other inhabitants would kill me to increase their own chance of survival. It had happened to some of the others, but I had always stayed a step ahead. And I had always known my enemy, whether it was my own hunger or one of the other orphans. Now there was an unspeakable horror which prowled and preyed upon the people of Ravenser Odd, and I had no way of recognising it beyond the rumour it was a woman.

Studying Hilda, I tried to decide whether I could still trust her.

Over the following weeks, Ravenser Odd was plunged into an uncomfortable Advent. News of Geoffrey’s death spread like an ever-growing ripple through the townsmen and further afield. Ships no longer stopped at the town, the toll overlooked as, without Geoffrey to enforce it, no captain felt obliged to part with their money. But perhaps the most shocking thing of all was that Hugh did nothing to stop them. The sheriff did not seem to notice as the town fell into poverty and fear.

It was two weeks after Geoffrey’s death that I next saw Hugh. Hilda and I were loitering around the baker’s house in the premature night, hoping for any scraps the man would throw our way. Hilda was far better at begging than I, making her a useful ally as everyone was more likely to offer food to her than me. Increasingly, as I accepted I was now an adult, I was forced to reconcile with the fact that my neighbours would not feed me as they had done when I was a child. Whether it was because Hilda was younger or that she was more inclined to smile than I was, people often gave her things where they wouldn’t offer anything but a whip to me.

Tonight was no different. She crouched at the baker’s door, her hands cupped up as the man appeared, wreathed in light from the lamp within. I confess, I felt jealous as food was placed into her grasp. I slouched against the wall, trying to remember the last time someone had set anything into my pleading hands.

Down the alley opposite, eight men walked past carrying torches. I glanced back at Hilda who was thanking the baker. She met my gaze as the door closed, before climbing to her feet and walking over to me.

“What is it?”

“I’m following them,” I announced, pointing to where the light of the torches was fading. “Are you coming?”

“I’ve only just got food,” Hilda remarked, and I couldn’t help but notice that she made no attempt to offer me any of it. I shared everything with her. I gave her a moment to correct herself but, when she failed to, I pushed myself to my feet and walked away.

Perhaps it was because I felt hurt by Hilda’s response, or perhaps it was the madness caused by an empty stomach, but I felt an anger in my heart which spurred me forward. I caught up with Hugh’s procession in seconds. They marched as though they were going to war, with heavy tread and stern expressions. I couldn’t remember him ever sending so many people out to make one arrest and, as I continued to shadow their movements, I realised arrest was not their purpose.

Their marching led them to the tollkeeper’s house. I had never seen anyone coming or going from the building since that night two weeks earlier, trying to avoid the area more through fear than anything else. Whoever had attacked Geoffrey and Elinor might have lingered there.

Now, Hugh pushed the door open and walked in, ordering his men to do the same. None of them wanted to enter, but neither did they want the repercussions of refusing. Far from being alone, patrons watched from the tavern door and the dockworkers gathered at a safe distance.

But I needed to know the cause and outcome of this. I had to know what the sheriff would find and why, after two weeks, he had decided to visit. Ignoring the whispers of the other onlookers, I walked towards the house.

Inside, the room was illuminated by the eight torches, meaning there were no shadows to be seen. Every corner glowed, and this seemed to be a conscious decision for, as soon as a man lowered his torch, Hugh would hiss angrily at him. None of them cared that I stood at the door, but each seemed anxious about whatever might be inside with them. They twisted their heads to observe the strands of darkness which penetrated the gaps in the shutters, or jumped if one of their rummaging companions dropped something a little harder than they had meant. There was no indication what they were looking for.

“He was just sitting here?” Hugh asked at last, the first words I had heard spoken. He was pointing to the desk where the open book was splattered with blood.

“That’s what they said.”

“And there was no one else?” Hugh stamped his foot in frustration, causing each of the men to jump. I did too. “His accomplice must have taken the tolls.”

“Unless-”

“Silence!” Hugh interrupted. “Children’s stories, that is all.”

I longed to question him on this, but there was something in his eyes which I had never observed there before. He looked wild and angry, his cheeks puckered in while his eyes burnt. Through fear, I stumbled out of the tollkeeper’s house and watched from the docks as the sheriff’s men set the building alight. Even during the plague, houses had not been burnt down. They had been sealed, sometimes with their inhabitants still inside, to keep the contagion from spreading. Perhaps that was who everyone was afraid of: the ghost of Mistress Susanna who had tried to escape one of the plague houses through the roof. She had slipped and fallen to her death. People claimed to have seen this terrible deed re-enacted. But why would she be cutting out people’s tongues?

All the same, I willed courage into myself as I walked out the following night to the house where she had lived. Hilda came with me, the events of the night before forgotten in our shared fear. For three nights we watched the house, but there was no sign of any ghost.

Then, on the third night, the mysterious killer struck again. This time it was the son of the farrier. He had been found in his father’s stable, his tongue removed and his hands bloodied. This final information proved the most disturbing of all, as each person agreed it could only point to one thing: the man had gone mad and removed his own tongue.

Hilda and I gave up on the ghost of Mistress Susanna. We, along with others in Ravenser Odd, began to suspect the farrier’s son had been guilty all along. But no sooner had he been laid in the churchyard, than another victim was claimed. By the feast of Christmas, five people had all died in the same way, and Christmas gave no respite as the sixth was claimed on Saint Stephen’s Day. Nowhere and no one seemed safe from this endemic madness. Men of wealth like Geoffrey Quinn, or of lowly stature like the ostler at the tavern, were all subjected to it. There were four male and two female victims, meaning there was no link in gender, nor was there one in age.

Waiting to find out who would be the next victim was both frightening and sickening. At first, I wanted to find shelter indoors. I always tried to during winter, but Hilda pointed out that each of the victims had been indoors except for Elinor Mowbray, and we were now certain she had not died at the sluice where she had been found. Despite the cold, I accepted her reasoning and remained outdoors. But the weather was bitter and each time I fell asleep, I found it more and more difficult to wake up.

On Twelfth Night, a time traditionally marked with celebrations and feasting, there was silence in the town. Somehow, knowing there should have been noise just made it more unnatural, more wrong.

“I’ve got to go and find out,” I began, trying to steady my words which trembled through my chattering teeth.

“Find out what? Surely you don’t mean to catch whatever is responsible?” Hilda looked across at me as though I was mad, and I began to suspect she was right. “Here, you have the blanket.”

I took the threadbare sheet from her hand and thanked her. My teeth chattered around this too. Hilda was still talking, I could see she was, hear it too, but the safety and warmth the blanket afforded me was so great, I felt myself drifting to sleep.

Never before had I put store by dreams, but that night I began to question the power of the subconscious. I was walking along the docks, a spring to my step and throwing my arms like a child at play. I was happy. The sun was shining on the ocean before me and I laughed at the feel of the warmth with which it caressed my cheek.

That was the first indication something was wrong.

I coughed, trying to clear my throat and laugh again. But the same honking croak issued from my mouth. Trying to form words, I heard only an unintelligible chattering. Determined to speak, I reached up to rub my throat. Then stopped. I had no hands. What I had thought to be arms and hands were covered in sable feathers, sleek, beautiful, but wrong.

“Kill it!” someone hissed, and I felt a heavy stone strike my back.

“She will take it!” shrieked a second. “She will kill us all!”

I flapped my arms, willing them to be wings. Leaping up, I propelled myself into the air, crying with relief as I flew. But my elation was short-lived. Another stone struck my outstretched wing and I lost control of my new skill, falling towards the water.

The ocean welcomed me with its chilling embrace. There were arms within it, I was certain. Gentle arms. Strong arms. For the first time, I realised I had screwed my eyes closed. Opening them, I stared into a pair of blue eyes which held the movement and the power of the sea, swirling and strong like winter swells. Hair in waves like golden kelp spilt down her shoulders, over skin which looked both weathered and soft.

I tried to thank my rescuer, but my words were once more corvid in language. She wasn’t offended. Her hand continued to run over my head and she made gentle, soothing sounds. But she offered no words. On the verge of questioning her, I opened my mouth. But before I could speak, the hand which had been a comfort, snatched at my throat.

Panic seized me as I tried to breathe. I tried to strike her, to push her away, but her arm was longer than my reach. Her fingers, like crab pincers, only tightened their grip. I felt my strength seep from me as her own grew. Images became blurred as I opened my mouth, breathing in what I was certain would be the last air I would ever taste. Through my distorted vision I watched her beautiful lips, decked in mother-of-pearl, turn up in a smile as her other hand reached towards my face.

I woke up, panting for breath.

Beside me, Hilda was locked in her own dream, far happier than mine, for her mouth continued to twitch into a smile. I watched her for a while, feeling frightened tears rain down my cheeks as I tried to tell myself it had only been a nightmare. But I couldn’t convince myself. I placed the blanket over Hilda, careful not to wake her, then walked away.

As I continued around the town, passing through the night shadows which grew and shrank as the almost full moon cleared the shards of cloud, I studied my hands. I had to remind myself I was human. I could not fly, but neither were people hunting me as they had done in the dream. I had no need to flee. The wind attacked me, snatching my shreds of clothing and penetrating my skin with its bite. Surviving winter in Ravenser Odd had always been a challenge, now it felt terminal.

I made my way back to the docks, cutting a peculiar figure where I trembled into my own embrace as my back was beaten by the sea gale. But I was determined. The sun was rising as I stumbled over to the man I had come to find, the wind blowing me towards him, as though something more than my dying resolve wanted me to speak with him.

“Have you time to talk?” I shouted, trying to hear myself over the gale.

The man turned, along with three other dockworkers who stood around the craft they had been repairing. His features looked panicked for a moment, his eyes widening while his lower lip trembled.

“No.”

There was no room in his tone for any misunderstanding, but my dream of the night before continued to haunt me. Reaching out my thin arm, I set my hand on his wrist. I had expected him to argue, perhaps to push me aside. Instead, his clenched fist struck me across the head and the world around me became distorted. In panic, I stumbled sidewards, clapping both my hands over my mouth. I wasn’t afraid of the realisation I was losing consciousness, but at the frightening resemblance to my nightmare.

“That was a foolish thing to do.”

I blinked my eyes open and looked around me in confusion. I wasn’t where I knew I should have been. The room around me was dark and empty, and the man before me was no longer the dockworker from whom I had been so desperate for answers. It was Hugh.

“What did I do?”

“Tried to attack Edward Halkin.”

“I just wanted to ask him something,” I muttered, rubbing the side of my cheek and wincing at the pain it caused. “I wanted to know who she was.”

“Who are you talking about?”

My eyes widened as I heard Hilda’s voice and I realised she was standing beside Hugh. She shook her head before continuing.

“You could have your hand cut off for laying it on him.”

“You should have lost them both, the number of times you have taken what is not your own,” Hugh added sternly.

“I didn’t steal anything.” I tucked my hands into my armpits unsure whether he would carry out this sentence immediately. “I just wanted to talk to him.”

“Good.” Hugh’s voice was dismissive now, and he wafted Hilda towards the door. She followed his command, glancing over her shoulder repeatedly as she went. The moment the door was latched, he continued. “You’re lucky to have a friend like her. She fetched me as soon as she saw you fall. She’s the only reason Halkin didn’t throw you into the sea.”

“I just wanted to talk to him,” I repeated in a whisper.

“How many times have I warned you?” Hugh waited for an answer but I had none to give. “Too many. Convince Edward Halkin you’re innocent, and you’ll convince me.”

Hugh walked to the door and pulled it open, exchanging places with the man who had left me here. I had never noticed how tall and wide he was but, as I sat there, I felt more vulnerable than ever.

“I only wanted to talk. I didn’t mean any harm. You knew who she was, this woman who is killing the townspeople. I just wanted to know.”

I was surprised he heard any of my words. They sounded garbled as I frantically spoke them, and I could feel tears running down my cheeks as he purposefully stepped forward.

“No wonder.”

I frowned at Edward’s words. Instead of striking me as he had done earlier, he crouched down before me, turning to the door to make sure we were alone.

“You’ll be next.”

“What?” I choked. “How do you know? Who is she? Why does she want me dead?”

“She doesn’t care if you live or die. It’s not your life she wants.”

Curling in on myself in an attempt to become as small as I could, I whispered, “Who is she?”

Edward turned back to the door before he settled himself on the floor, pulling out a gutting knife. This final action should have caused an even greater fear in me, but the implement was for defence. Edward seemed to be expecting an attack.

“More than one hundred years ago, the people of Ravenser Odd made a plea to Lir, the god of the sea. For more years than they could remember, they had been forced to bury sailors whose ships had broken on the shore. Skilled sailors, who knew the waters and had sailed them all their lives, were being destroyed and discarded on the coast. Because of her.”

“Who?” I prompted as Edward fell silent.

“I’ll not speak her name, for bad luck comes on any who do.” Edward’s hand tightened on the bone handle of the knife and he looked behind again. “Lir heard them. And he took revenge on the siren whose songs had lured those men to their deaths. He had the salt of the sea dissolve her tongue. Everyone rejoiced. But her last song was so beautiful, Lir succumbed to her. He promised her a chance to sing once more. She had only to cut out the raven’s tongue and she could have it as her own.”

I had listened, spellbound, to Edward’s story. But with this last statement, I found myself choking on bile at the memory of the dream. I had been a raven. I had been the one whose tongue she had been about to remove so her song might return. But how had Edward known I would be next? I scrubbed my tattered sleeve over my mouth and coughed enough to make my words audible.

“How did you know? You said I would be next. How do you know?”

“All the victims she has claimed,” Edward said, rising to his feet and grabbing a handful of my hair which he pushed into my face, “had hair like raven feathers. You’re the only one I’ve seen left in Ravenser Odd.” He turned the knife in his hand, offering me the handle. “Consider each person in this town and the horrors we face if she finds you. Whether by your hand or her will, you’ll be dead before the next moon.”

The weight of his words caused a numbness to spread through my body, beginning with my hand as I closed my fingers around the smooth bone. He wanted me to kill myself, to prevent the siren from regaining her voice. I looked at the blade, forgotten now by Edward who was walking to the door. Setting it against my chest, I willed myself to do as he said. Surely it was better to die at my own hand than someone else’s, to die from one deep cut instead of the horror of such a slow bleeding to death as the others had endured.

“Stop it!”

Hilda’s voice dragged me back into consciousness, while Hugh’s hand gripped my wrist so tightly the knife spilt from my fingers. There was no sign of Edward.

I didn’t speak as Hugh dragged me from the prison and threw me out. Hilda shadowed me as I stumbled through the streets. She was talking to me, I could hear her, but her words were incomprehensible. Each person we passed stared vehemently at me. Each one knowing the death I was going to bring. I couldn’t bear the guilt of it.

After finding me on the verge of suicide, Hilda suddenly took on the role of my protector. She begged and stole enough food for us both. As the winter turned only more cruel and the temperatures dropped, she beseeched a place for us within the church. I had watched through the windows as the full moon rose, hearing Edward’s words about being dead before the new one. But no amount of praying before the altar, attacking the heavens with fear and desperation, was enough to stop the moon’s gradual waning.

Perhaps God had heard the prayers of Ravenser Odd for, as the days progressed, there were no more deaths at the hand of the siren. While the townspeople celebrated this, flooding to the church in grateful prayers, I knew it was only because this creature waited for me. My dreams sank deeper into nightmares from which I would wake in a feverish state, too frightened to open my eyes in case she was before me. Hilda never tired of my panicking and, in the darkness of my terror, I found myself explaining everything to her.

“You shouldn’t believe their stories,” she initially rebuked. But over the nights when she had to reassure me as I woke trembling and sobbing, she became more gentle in her approach. A side to her which I had never observed shone through, and I often found the only way I could gain any sort of slumber was to rest my head against her. She never objected.

Then, one evening after she had gone to find us food, she failed to return. I watched the door, expecting it to open at any moment, but she never came. The church bells tolled, telling me how late it was in the world outside, reminding me she should have returned by now. The market closed at dusk, and it was now entirely dark. Not only dark, but noisy, and I listened to the clattering in the belfry as the growing gale forced its way through every crack it could find.

With an uncertain step, I moved towards the door. Hilda was out there, and she was out there because of me. The wind shook the timbers, lashing them with thrown objects. It was a wild night, untamed and aggressive. Twisting the heavy iron ring, I stumbled back as the force of the tempest pushed against me. I took a gulp of the pungent church air and, holding my breath, stepped out into the storm.

I had no coat, no blanket, nothing but my tattered shirt. I gripped my arms around me, trying to dispel the cold, willing my steps forward. Hilda’s name snatched my breath as I shouted it into the wind which distorted every effort I made to find her. Walking down the slight incline, I stepped into the market square. Ordinarily, I would stay close to the buildings, hidden from sight to make sure no one saw as I helped myself to their produce. But now I skidded over the sodden ground into the centre of the square, afraid of the debris which the buildings shed, determined to be rid of me. Ravenser Odd wanted me as much as her inhabitants. Wooden shutters clattered, and the stones around them shuddered free from one another, crashing to the ground.

I had witnessed storms before, but never anything like this.

“Hilda!” I was no longer shouting, but screaming into the storm.

I gave a relieved sigh as I saw Hilda battling towards me. She struggled against the elements, one hand sheltering her face. The wind blew me towards her and I reached out to guide her back to the church, but she shook her head.

“Ravenser Odd is crumbling!” she shouted over the gale. “The church isn’t safe, but I’ve found somewhere which is!”

In that instant, while she took my hand as I had been about to do to her, I felt a burning jealousy and it took me a moment to realise what had sparked this emotion. It was her coat. It was beautiful, thick, and warm. I had never seen it before, nor anyone wearing one like it. Unlike my own shirt which seemed to gather water, streams dropped from the edge of her garment. Reminding myself that I had left the warm and dry church through concern for her, I rebuked myself. She had braved the weather for me. She deserved this protection.

I was surprised to find Hilda was leading me east, towards the shore. The docks loomed over us, cranes creaking, and the wooden floor groaning as the rising water heaved underneath it. But Hilda was resolute and continued along the boards. Seaweed and stones were being thrown at us, as the sea attacked Ravenser Odd with an aggression only matched by the town’s will to withstand the barrage. Hilda and I were trapped in between.

That was when the first sheet of lightning illuminated the sky. I had been unsure in the darkness, but now I was blinded by this sudden brightness. Freeing my hand from Hilda’s grip, I stood still and rubbed my eyes, willing them to see again.

I opened them, relieved to find I could make out the forms of buildings and silhouettes of structures. Hilda had kept walking a few paces, and she turned back. She was talking, but the wind and my pounding heart made me deaf to any other sounds. A colossal wave hammered over the docks, striking the timbers of the crane, and pushing it towards Hilda.

Some things are so instinctive we never know why we do them. This was evident in that moment as I rushed forward, sliding over the sodden planks, and pushed Hilda to safety. In doing so, the enormous beam caught my trailing leg. I was lost for a moment in a conflict of emotions: laughing, crying, before my head accepted the pain in my leg and I passed out.

Water was splashing onto my sodden chest and into my face, drawing me back to consciousness with twisting spasms each time the drops struck me. I was no longer on the docks. There was a lantern burning above me, suspended from a chain with links as wide as my wrist. By its light, I studied this room, searching for distraction to escape the pain in my leg. The first thing which struck me was the peculiar light. The air glowed in an array of colours, subdued but certainly there. Wincing as I pushed myself up, I realised with panic that I was in a ship which was gradually flooding. I was sitting on a table, and water was already covering the floor, rising as it continued to penetrate the room.

Underneath the water, strewn across the floor, were the causes of the peculiar colours. Coins, gems, and jewels reflected the lantern, an extravagant mirror of the sickly candle flame. There were more riches here than I had ever dreamed existed in the world. Awkwardly, I reached my hand down but gasped as I felt sharp digits dig into my wrist.

“Don’t try to rob her,” Hilda said firmly.

I turned to face her as she walked forward. Her eyes sparkled in the lantern light, and she folded her arms, looking disapprovingly across at me. But if she was there, who was gripping my wrist so tightly my fingers began to tingle?

I knew the answer, of course; knew but didn’t dare accept it. Pulling back, I looked down at the creature which never relinquished my hand. She was exactly as I had dreamed her, from her golden hair to her shimmering lips, but she was far smaller than I had imagined. Her eyes were locked on mine and, in a state of panic, I realised I could not tear my gaze away. The tempest raged there, as it continued to rage in the world outside this wooden room, but instead of battering me as the gale had done, I was compelled towards it.

“I didn’t want this to happen,” Hilda interrupted, splashing over to the table, and sitting beside me so her swinging legs paddled the rising water. “But you’re the only one left. And Henassa has waited for so long to sing again. Lir’s punishment will end today. Why else would he send this storm?”

Clamping my jaw tightly closed, I shook my head. The world spun around me but my resolve never failed. Hilda had betrayed me. Hilda, whose life I had saved at the expense of my own ability to escape, had given me to the creature who wished to take my life.

But the siren’s touch was like gentle waves as she stroked the palm of my hand, and I found my eyes brimming with tears as I stared into that powerful gaze. They were not tears of fear or pain, but tears of sadness. I could feel her despair, her desperation to sing once more and, as Hilda set a knife in my hand, I was about to give the creature what she wanted.

I would have done it, I realised with a sickening return to consciousness, had the creature not smiled at that moment. The razor-sharp teeth, like shell daggers, flashed as the water-level carried her closer to me. Throwing the knife aside, I struggled to the opposite side of the table and whimpered as I lowered my legs into the icy water. It was already up to my hips as I stood up, but my wounded leg collapsed beneath me.

Water filled my nose and mouth as I landed against the treasure which strew the floor. Until so recently I would have given anything for even a handful of this wealth, but now I knew the cost of such riches. Bubbles streamed from my mouth as I tried to breathe, and I was hypnotised by them as they easily reached the surface which was so far beyond me.

A hand plunged towards me, pulling me up.

“You can’t die.” Hilda struck my back, sending water from my lungs. “I didn’t stop you in the prison so you could die before you gave Henassa your tongue.”

“You killed them all?” I whispered, my throat dry from the saltwater which had almost drowned me. “No. It isn’t possible. You were with me when the farrier’s son died. He killed himself.”

“He offered his tongue readily. I only introduced him to the thought.” Hilda smiled sadly, shaking her head. “I wanted you to be spared. I told all the others in the hope they would succeed.”

I tried to lean away from her support, disgusted by this person I had come so close to accepting as a friend. But I couldn’t support my own weight and the water, which was now up to my waist, had developed a current of its own. “If she sings again, she’ll kill people.”

Hilda’s lips twisted into a sneer and, with a speed my dulled senses could not anticipate, she took a step behind me, clutching my throat. “If you would not help,” she spat into my ear, digging her fingers tighter into my neck, “then you shouldn’t have told me how to make you.”

It was true. In fear, and the need of friendship and reassurance, I had told her every second of my recurring nightmares. I struggled to prise her hand away but, no sooner did her left hand loosen, than the right snatched my throat with equal force. My mouth opened as my need to survive overcame my stubborn determination. How many times in those terrible dreams had I watched the creature reaching towards my face, always able to wake myself? But now there was no waking.

I rasped out desperate pleas, begging of both women, before my tongue fell silent as the siren’s talons stabbed into it while her other hand lifted the knife. The world danced around me for a moment before the room seemed to tumble. The lantern was extinguished and the floodwater dragged my precarious stance from under me. I could taste blood, and the saltwater which raced into my mouth stung the wound Henassa had left there. But, as the water pressed down on me, I was relieved to find my tongue still in my mouth.

She had failed.

Hugh told me later what had happened. As the waters rose, wiping Ravenser Odd from the map forever, he had found me drifting beside the toppled wreck of a ship on the riverbank, my hand holding Hilda’s. But while I had floated on my back, Hilda’s face had been in the water and she had drowned by the time we were pulled ashore. The sheriff had commended me on my loyalty to her, and I had neither the inclination nor the energy to tell him the truth.

I didn’t speak to anyone as the story of the Saint Marcellus's flood spread through the county. Hugh was given a post in the town of Howden, taking me as his heir, the last survivor of Ravenser Odd.

Howden was busier than Ravenser Odd, and each day I tried to lose myself in the market. I no longer had to steal to survive, but limped around the gathered vendors. But every night, my sleep took me back to Saint Marcellus’s Day. The fear; the panic; the betrayal. There was always something in the background which I knew hadn’t been there. It took me until the end of winter to realise it was a beautiful song, and this prompted me to address it with Hugh.

“I keep dreaming of Hilda,” I announced as I sat across the table from him. I found myself telling him about what she had done, how she caused those deaths and had expected me to follow their example. Hugh listened with more sympathy than I had thought to find. Once I had finished my telling, I scrubbed my sleeve across my wet cheeks.

“How did she do it?” I sobbed, lifting my eyes to his. “How did she get them to kill themselves? Elinor; Geoffrey…”

“The siren sings her name to sailors,” Hugh said softly. “Then, if they repeat it, she reaches into their soul. She can make them do her will. That was why she needed the raven’s tongue. So she could tell men her name once more. It was Quinn’s greed which awoke her, the fool.”

“But she failed.” I heard my voice crack as I spoke.

“You’re safe from her here.”

“You didn’t agree with me.”

“Hilda was blinkered. Blinded by what she thought she knew. Raven had nothing to do with black-haired people.”

“What was it?”

“Ravenser Odd means Raven’s Tongue. And she took it.” Hugh set his hands on the table and stared at me. “But we’re far from Ravenser Odd here.”

I didn’t argue, but that night I lay awake. Despite being exhausted, I didn’t dare fall asleep, afraid I would be drawn into the siren’s song. If it had been only Hugh’s words echoing in my head, I wouldn’t have been so concerned. But I could hear my own, pleading with my captors on the flooding ship. I had begged them by name: Hilda and Henassa.

Desperate not to fall asleep, I slipped out the house and into the twilight. I had meant to go to the market square, or even the minster. Instead, I found myself standing beside the River Ouse, which fed into the Humber which now covered Ravenser Odd. I had never come here before, yet my feet had found their way.

I set my eyes on the current in the centre of the wide waterway. For a moment, it was the siren’s eyes, staring back at me. I covered my ears, desperate not to hear the song which the wind carried, singing one word over and over again.

Henassa

My eyes locked on her own as she surfaced from the water, and I realised it wasn’t the wind I had heard. She had found me. And I, her. Through that gaze and the captivating music, I could feel her hurt, her disappointment that I had escaped her where no others had. Overcome by guilt at the hole I had left in her victories, I watched her taloned hand emerge from the river.  Her song swelled in my soul, creating a desperation to satisfy the yearning it caused there.

Reaching towards her, I stepped from the riverbank.