Jeremy pulled at his bound hands to emphasise his state. “And who the hell was shouting that nonsense in my face? Delia, this isn’t a funny joke.”

“Why does everyone think it’s me?” she complained. “Cass is the one who roped you up.”

The doctor? Why on earth would she —

“How are you feeling, Jeremy?” Cassie said quickly.

It was a question easy to answer, deliberately so; still, he bit. “Like I’ve been roped up and pushed down the stairs.” Delia and Cassie chuckled. “You wouldn't be laughing If I had a heart attack, you know. I fucking thought pirates had us!”

“Yeah... about that,” Gavin said hesitantly.

Jeremy turned towards the boatswain, who began fidgeting with his hands. The man always seemed uneasy in his presence, when he wasn't drunk at least, which meant he had sobered.

How long had he been out?

“Umm, we might be under attack,” Gavin finished.

Jeremy raised a brow. “Might? Did someone spot—”

The second mate started to choke and his eyes began to water as a noxious smell invaded his nostrils. “What is—cough—that fucking smell?!”

“Blame Cass again,” Delia said, approaching him. She sat in a squat and started undoing the figure eight knots that tied his legs, and the wafts of all things unholy became stronger; he was in half a mind to tell her to go away.

“Anyway, there’s a ship heading towards us,” she said, indifferent to the stench. “How do you feel about greeting them?”

Jeremy opened his mouth, only to gag. He had smelled some foul shit in his life, but whatever the fuck this was, it topped them all. The image of rotting cadaver doused with sewage crossed his mind.

“Jeremy?”

“Hmm?”

“You okay to greet them?”

The putrid smell was so intense that he couldn't think about standing, let alone greeting people. And really, there was no need for him to go. Sure, as second mate, it was important for him to be there, but it wasn’t essential.

“Where’s the Captain?” he managed to say. It was more of a wheeze than his usual bellow, and a smirk played across Delia's lips. She shifted closer to him.

The little shitbag, Jeremy mentally curse. She smelled the part.

After relishing his discomfort, she pointed with her head towards his right. There, Jeremy found Greg sprawled on the floor, tied, and asleep; involuntarily asleep, he presumed.

He was about to ask the barrage of questions that swarmed his mind, but before he could say anything, Delia spoke. “I know you have questions, but we don't have time. Can you go up and greet them?”

Jeremy didn’t know what to say. There was simply too much happening, too much to take in. Why was he and the captain bound? Why was everyone in this hallway? And why did it smell like Delia had walked out of the sewers?

“Jeremy?” Delia asked, freeing his wrists from behind him.

“Yes,” he choked out. “I’ll go greet them.” He needed some fresh air, anyway.

“Me and Jeremy will go then,” Delia hastily said towards the observing trio.

Cassie sighed. “Fine. I’ll get Jonah ready. Karl, you still go with them.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I said so.” The doctor's voice beckoned no argument, and it took aback Jeremy. This really was no joke then. He still wondered why was she barefoot and in her nightgown, but supposed he could ask after meeting the guests that awaited him.

Jeremy groaned as he got to his feet, his body sore from whatever had transpired, and his brain bruised by a headache exacerbated by unanswered questions.

The stench didn't help either, making him feel woozy, and inflaming his airways.

After steadying himself, he twisted his torso, stretching his muscles; the sensation of a hundred needles poking his nerves greeted him.

“Arghh," he moaned. "My back is killing me.”

“I can't help you against old age,” Cassie said playfully.

He grunted. He suspected the doctor played a part in his state. He would find out eventually.

Jeremy walked towards a nearby rack, grabbing a claymore before making his way towards the stairs that led to the deck. The sword was more for intimidation than anything else — he was terrible with it. But if pirate's were coming, it was better to swing a slab of metal like a club than swinging a fist.

An enchanted club… that would be worth looking into, he mentally noted.

Jeremy hobbled closer to the occupants in the hallway and the putrid stench grew stronger, the rest of the crew emanating the same horrid smell as Delia. “Why the fuck did you all bathe yourselves in sewage?”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

“The short story is, Sirens attacked us. We used malodorant fumes to run away, and then the ghost of Christmas past said they were visiting us,” Delia said.

“Sirens, stink bombs, and now pirates,” Cassie simplified.

“Right...” That made sense.

“And the land?” Jeremy asked, trying to get his bearings, and wondering about the last coherent thought he remembered.

“Siren’s nest,” Delia said.

“Of-fucking-course.” Well, he was right about Tyche fucking them over.

“Can you stop swearing? Honestly, you’re influencing Jonah way too much.”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.”

Delia turned his way as they walked towards the door, giving him one of her pointed looks, her brows raised and lips pursed with disapproval. It was a child’s imitation of the captain's cold gaze.

He ignored it. “So, what can I expect?”

“We don’t know,” Cassie said.

“Brook and his crew,” Karl added.

“That’s as likely as anything. We’ll find out together, just be ready for hostiles.” Delia said.

Whilst she added bolts to her quiver, Cassie handed Jeremy a jar containing a translucent yellowish substance. It smelled... delicate. Sweet even, though he could barely make it out from the stink surrounding him.

“What’s this?”

“Wax.”

That explained a lot. Honestly, what was it with these people? Cassie, probably noticing his confusion whilst staring at the small container, added, "If there are signs of Sirens, stuff it in your ears."

Jeremy nodded. That was the first thing she said that he could follow. It was common knowledge that the singing of Sirens could kill a man.

“Delia, smack him if he’s under the influence,” Cassie said.

“Hey!” he protested. “I’m not drunk.”

“I—” The doctor gave an insufferable sigh. Jeremy didn’t understand why she was complaining; she wasn’t awoken, bruised, tied up, and then given random pieces of information and expected to put it together.

“—I’m talking about the Siren's influence. If they’re still out there, you won’t have a chance to put it in your ears. Pain can distract you from their song.”

Ah. “Is that why someone smacked me with a hammer?”

“No, and yes,” Delia said. “Anyway, we don't have time. Ready?”

Jeremy nodded, and the Karl shrugged.

“Get the pirate punisher ready to jump into the fray,” Jeremy said.

“Kraken Killer,” Delia corrected.

“Pirate punisher.”

Delia poked him with the shaft of a bolt. “I think he’s under the Siren's influence.”

***

The trio walked onto the main deck and the stench of whatever Cassie had made assaulted Jeremy's nose once again. He gagged, and the sight of vomit splattered across the decking only aided the revolt in his stomach.

“Fucking hell. I bet the pirates will flee by taking a whiff of this shit.”

“You weren’t here when she used that crap,” Karl complained.

“I can knock you out and tie you up, if you prefer.”

“Guys, focus please!” Delia frowned as she scanned the air, the childlike playfulness replaced with a calm and combat-ready woman. She resembled Jonah and the Captain, a mixture of a threat and an authority figure despite her diminutive size. She didn’t have the crazy smile of the ship guard, though, to his relief — Jonah always seemed possessed by Ares in a fight.

“No signs of Sirens,” she said firmly. Delia’s gaze then turned towards the horizon as she searched for the supposed pirate ship.

Jeremy held his tongue, the urge to joke stifled by the shine in her eyes. The last few months had changed her.

Jeremy chose to join her search. It was hard to see much with the surrounding mist. It wasn’t particularly heavy, but it was perfect for a pirate ship trying to sneak onto Flightless Owl. Pirate ships were typically fast and small vessels who used the darkness of night as a cover for their ambushes. How the crew knew a pirate ship approached, he didn't question. It wasn't something one would joke about.

“There!” Karl shouted.

Jeremy's eyes followed his fingers and snapped onto a distant orange glow, growing in size and intensity; they were heading towards it.

“I don’t see a ship,” Jeremy observed. “Delia, go up on a mast for binoculars. Let us know where they are. And stay hidden there. You can use the height to your advantage.”

Delia began making her way but paused as Karl spoke. “Is that a smart idea? I thought Sirens fly in the air?”

“Aren’t they like mermaids?” Jeremy queried.

“No, but it’s fine. I’ll jump down if I spot any.”

She really did grow from the screaming kid a few months back. Jeremy shook his head. “No, I don't like this idea then. We can’t help you if there are any. The fog is heavy higher up too, so we won't even see them coming.”

“It’s fine.” She ran towards the mast without looking back. Her rashness didn’t change.

“We still have a few minutes till we meet them. Karl, update the doc and see what our pirate punisher is doing.”

“Yes, captain,” he said, drawling the last word. It reminded him of the previous conversation he had with the captain. A thought for another time.

Jeremy watched the large oaf of a boatswain run back into the cabin before looking at the light again. Though he couldn’t see the ship, they were close enough that the orange glow took on the distinct shape of a flickering flame.

“Delia, can you see them?” he called out.

“No… I think… It looks like it’s just a torch.”

“A torch? What does that mean?”

“I don’t know how to explain it.”

Jeremy waited for her to lengthen the explanation, but only the wind answered. Silence stretched and his eyes turned from the flames towards the mast.

“Del?”

“Sorry! I was just looking around. It’s just an open flame, on a stick.”

He let out a small breath. “How the hell is it upright?”

“It’s attached to some kind of signpost. And the signpost is likely fixed to the seabed.”

Who the hell came to the sea to read? If the pirates were trying to deceive them, then they were doing a good job.

Jeremy reached out to his back and gripped his claymore for comfort. “So where’s the ship?!” His worry seemed to bleed into his voice.

“I… don’t — There! Portside, forty degrees. They’re half our size and lit up like a Christmas tree. Ensign too!”

“Can you make it out?”

“I don’t know… a woman's head with… snakes?”

That was definitely not foreboding. But pirate ships approaching lit up? They were arrogant, or fools.

Jeremy heard the approach of footsteps, and turned his head to see Karl, Gavin, Shelby and Jonah as they walked towards him.

“Forty degrees portside lads.”

“Friendly?” Gavin asked, his voice hopeful.

“I don't know," he responded. "Friend or Foe, we’ll find out.”