Sound of Sirens by Jen Minkman (new reading txt) 📖

I wouldn’t be surprised if I really found out that the people of Stortum weren’t the decent, Brandan-fearing people they were supposed to be.

I’m still thinking about Stortum by the time school’s out. If I’m not mistaken, the Skelta’s ancestors came from that settlement too. There might have been a rebel streak to the villagers – much like us Kinnumers aren’t so eager to please the Currents. Brandaris is actually the only place where Skylgers and Currents live side by side, and even that isn’t entirely true. The richest Brandarisian neighborhood isn’t even really part of the capital city and harbor. It is miles away, built upon the highest hill of the island, connected to the city center by the Longway running from south to north. I’ve been as far as Dead Men’s Caskets, the lake that marks the border between Lower and Upper Brandaris, but I’ve never ventured beyond. There’s nothing for me there.

“Are you okay?” Dani interrupts my musings. “You look so pensive.”

“I’m thinking about Stortum.”

“Yeah, about that.” She turns to me as we cycle away. “How did you find that book? Was it in Royce’s cottage? It looks like an antique.” She snuck a quick peek at it during lunch break.

“No.” I stop. Should I tell Dani about Sytse? Maybe I should wait until I’ve confronted him. If I ever scrounge up the courage to do that, even. It might be best to leave it alone for now. “After Royce left, I looked around in the village a bit longer and stumbled upon a house with lots of books and some weird, Current device on the table.”

“You think it belongs to Royce’s family too?”

“I don’t think so. If so he would have mentioned it.”

Dani cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? You really think he’s that open with you?”

“Well.” I shrug, but wince as I hunch my shoulders. “Ugh. This bag is killing me,” I grumble.

“Why don’t I take it for a while? You carried it on our way to school too, you poor darling,” Dani coos at me with a wink. Before I can protest, she stops her bike and motions for me to do the same. I feel a bit guilty when she grabs my bag and slings it over her shoulders, but not guilty enough to refuse. I smile at her.

“Thanks,” I say.

We ride on against the wind. It’s so strong it takes our breaths away, so we cycle back home in silence. It gives me time to think about possible reasons why Sytse would meet up with some mystery guy in a Stortumer cottage. Maybe he’s interested in the books on those shelves, but there’s an even better reason to come to Stortum – it must somehow be connected to the Grid. If not, Royce wouldn’t be able to make his electric appliances work in that village. Which means Sytse knows too much for his own good, and he’s playing with fire by using a Current device for Freda knows what.

8.

“How was school, sweetheart?” my dad inquires in his ever-gentle voice. “You need help with anything?”

“It was fine,” I reply. “I’m going to prepare for history class with Dani in my room, okay? But I’d really like it if you could help me with math homework after dinner.”

“Of course.” A pleased smile spreads across his face. My dad longs to feel useful around me and Sytse every day, and helping me with mathematics and calculus is one of the ways he can still feel like he matters.

“Great!” I look around. “What’s for dinner tonight?”

“Oh, Sytse is bringing home some fresh herring from the market,” Dad replies. “And he asked you to get some large potatoes and white bread from the grocery store in Baydunen. He left money on the counter.”

“Will do.” I quickly pour us three mugs of tea and put two on a tray to bring with me to my bedroom. I suddenly can’t wait to take a closer look at the ancient Skylgian book, and I’m happy I decided to share it with Dani. Two sets of eyes see more than one.

When I kick the door closed, Dani is already sitting on my bed and pulling out the heavy tome with eager hands. “Let’s see what this is all about,” she muses, opening the book and scanning the first page. “Wow, those ink drawings are quite something.”

I plop down beside her and we put the book on my lap. I’ve put the mugs of tea on the small table next to my bed. No way am I going to allow hot liquids anywhere near this volume.

“1623,” I mumble softly, my eyes lingering on the date underneath the biggest drawing. “Unbelievable. Is this a book from before St. Brandan landed on our shores?”

Everybody on the island knows he came here in 1666. The fleet brought the Holy Fire and the Baeles-Weards built the Brandaris Tower to safeguard Brandan’s Light, our only protection against the Nixen.

“Maybe it’s a reproduction?” Dani suggests. “The date on the title page says 1715. See?” She flips back and shows me.

“So it might be an anthology of old island lore.” I go back to the illustration dating back to 1623 and stare at the depicted scene. A violent storm rages over the island. The churning waves have capsized a schooner, and sailors are spilling out of the wreckage. It sends a chill down my spine when I spot a few Nixen in the waves, their tails glistening in the eerie light of – what? My eyes flash to the harbor in the background and widen. St. Brandan’s Tower is there, shining in the darkness. Except it can’t be Brandan’s Fire up there, because the Anglians weren’t even here yet, in 1623. How is it that the tower is already there?

“Enna,” Dani says with a tremor in her voice. “Do you see that?”

“You mean the tower?”

“No.” She points to the merfolk swimming around the drowning men in the sea. “Those mermaids – I don’t think they’re pulling them under.”

“What?” My voice shoots up an octave in disbelief. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it looks like...” Dani’s voice trails off uncertainly. “It’s almost as if they’re trying to save them.”

“That’s impossible.” I yank the book toward me and almost touch the page with my nose in an attempt to take a closer look. Under my scrutiny, the small, ink-drawn Sirens sadly don’t become any clearer. Dani could be right – but she could also be wrong. It’s very hard to tell. “Why would they save those men? You know the Nixen kill us. They tempt us out to sea and then they steal our souls and eat our flesh.” My voice cracks on the last word. I don’t want to think about what they did to my mother, but I can’t help it.

“I don’t know,” Dani admits helplessly. “But isn’t it true that the religion of old says the Nixen were once our friends and allies?”

“You mean before the sea spat us out?” I shake my head. “Well, if that’s true, what the hell went wrong for things to end up like this?”

“I don’t know,” my friend repeats. “But I intend to find out.”

“And that’s not the only thing that’s strange about this picture,” I pitch in. “Have you seen the tower in the distance? How can it be there, back in 1623?”

Dani gasps in surprise. “You’re right. What does that mean?”

It can only mean one thing. “It wasn’t made by the Baeles-Weards,” I whisper.

We turn the next few pages, looking for more pictures. We haven’t even gotten around to reading the text yet and already I am baffled beyond belief. This anthology is a treasure trove of secret information about the island, our history and origins. I wonder why it was stashed away in that old house in Stortum – and whether anybody is going to miss it soon.

We spend a full hour looking through the book. The tea has gotten cold on my nightstand by the time we find the oldest picture in the book – a reproduction of an old wood carving. I feel like I’ve ended up in some mad fairytale. The image, dating from 1323, shows how people in traditional Skylger clothes are building the tower that we’ve always believed to belong to the Currents.

“We have to show this to the Skelta,” I mumble. “He’ll know what to do with this book.”

Dani bites her lip. “Well, shouldn’t we read the stories in it first and do more research?” she says, obviously reluctant to give it up so soon. To be honest, I’m not ready to part ways with this book either, but I want to do the right thing. The knowledge contained in these pages won’t do anybody on the island much good if we keep it hidden. On the other hand, that’s what Sytse was doing, too. I wonder how he’s involved in all of this.

“Maybe,” I mumble.

“Let’s give it one more afternoon, then. I’ll drop by tomorrow,” Dani offers. “We’ll contact the Skelta on Saturday when the Oorol Festival kicks off. He’ll be in Brandaris for his yearly speech.”

I open my mouth to agree, then shake my head. “Actually, I can’t meet up tomorrow. I’m seeing Royce.”

Dani shoots me a disbelieving glare. “Honestly? You’d choose a Current boy and his music over our historical research?”

“I already promised I’d be there,” I throw back.

My best friend raises her hands in exasperation. “Okay, fine. But please don’t take this away from me. Let me take the book home and read more on Friday afternoon while you’re cozying up with Prince Bolton. I’ll report back to you and we can go to the Skelta together on Saturday to tell him what we found out.”

“Sure.” I hand her the book and she stuffs it into her messenger bag. “But please be careful with it. We can’t lose it.”

“I’ll bring it back Friday evening, I promise. And I’ll let you know what I find out.”

With a pang of regret, I dig up my actual homework and try to focus on tomorrow’s assignment. I’d rather spend the rest of my time with the anthology, but I can’t – I have to keep up my grades for history and I still need to run errands for Dad.

––––––––

That night, after eating dinner and doing my math homework with my father, I go outside for an evening stroll. The sun has already set and the May sky is peppered with bright stars glittering like precious stones. I take a deep breath and feel how the fresh air expands my lungs. Far away, in the distance, I hear the cry of a lonely seagull. Even further still, I can hear the incessant, alluring melody of the Nixen, like a faint memory of a whisper.

On Saturday, the festival will start. Both Currents and Skylgers perform during Oorol. Boundaries fade away, although we are never allowed to witness the light shows they organize in Upper Brandaris. All the people on stage will sing, dance, act, and make music without the help of electricity. This festival is ancient – it used to belong to just us. In the old language, Oorol means ‘everywhere’. This entire island has been turned into a giant theater for ten wonderful days since the days of yore.

“We circle around like holy clouds, round and