They reached the coast by midday the following day and followed the beach line southward, trying to keep out of the sinking sand. The ocean was not a pretty clear blue like it was in the north of Terra. Here it was a tempestuous blue/green and opaque only a few feet from the shore. The grey clouds that had been above seemed to have lost their buoyancy and had settled on the water but even through their melancholy presence, Keenstone Isle could be seen though not in great detail.

It only took an hour of frequently asking Caste if he was sure, absolutely sure, completely sure, that they were heading in the right direction for the cleric’s temper to ignite.

“Of course I’m sure!” He barked angrily. “We could see a small forest on our right when we reached the coast and so we were too far north! Why have a cleric in the party, trained in cartography, if you’re going to interrogate and doubt him?”

His walk turned into an angry stomp and the others left him alone as he began to stride ahead, still muttering about his idiotic companions. It was with no little triumph that, at a turn in the coastline, Caste pointed an authoritative finger to a building that had a large wheel, not dissimilar to a waterwheel though without the little scoops, built onto its side. From the top and bottom of the wheel, two thick lines stretched out over the water, towards the island that was starting to look like it belonged in the clouds and not on the ocean. It was impossible to make out its base through the fog.

“I think you owe someone an apology.” Verne said, looking at Giordi.

“You asked too!” Giordi chortled, never fully taking Caste’s moods seriously.

“Let’s get down there and talk to the ferryman.” Judd urged and they slid and skidded down the hill onto the beach where they made tracks across the sodden sand. As they approached the wooden building, Caste was standing at the door with a confused look on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“There should be a ferryman here at all times,” Caste explained, “but it looks deserted.”

“That’s not ominous…”

“What about the ferry?” Caste shrugged and gestured out to the channel.

“Probably on the Keenstone Isle side.”

“Any way to get it back?”

They entered the wooden building that had sand across the floorboards and smelt of salt and seaweed. Because Judd was taller, he managed to walk through a spider web. He also managed not to scream although there were several smirks at the frantic dance he did, scraping the sticky strands from his face and hair.

He shivered. “I hate spiders.” He confessed.

Caste pointed to a wheel that was on the opposite side of the waterwheel. Judd put his pack down and turned it. He was surprised at how easy it was.

“I thought it was going to be rusted through.” He admitted, able to turn the wheel with ease, Verne confirming that the outer wheel was in fact moving, pulling the thick rope into the wheel, dragging the ferry, hopefully, across from where it was.

“This ferry is one of the old world’s greatest accomplishments.” Caste announced with great superiority. “It proved that humans did not have to be limited by expanses of water or mountains or valleys…it was a feat of engineering that is still used to this day, even in Astaril. This,” he patted the wheel Judd was turning, “is history that endured to this day!”

Fifteen minutes later they were standing on the veranda, staring at the ferry.

“Anyone else wondering how it endured so long?”

The ferry was simply a platform of wood, not much larger than a cart, set upon barrels that had been waterproofed and sealed with tar though it looked like water might have found its way into one of the barrels as the far left corner was a little lower than the rest. The platform didn’t look sturdy either with several planks on their way to becoming rotten. In the middle of the platform was another wheel, bolted onto what appeared to be the keel which kept the ferry from tipping over…in theory. And if there was any confidence in the mechanics of the ferry’s pulley system, it was eroded by the presence of an oar. Just one, somewhat mouldy and the handle was broken off short. The two thick cords were strapped through the smaller wheel which was operated with a handle, the ropes going on to connect with the Keenstone Isle ferry wheel that was lost in the fog.

Judd looked it over then shrugged, pulled his boots and socks off and slung them and his pack onto the ferry.

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“Come on then.” He ordered. “Packs on, we’ll push it into deeper into the water, climb on and get ourselves across.” Everyone stared at him. “What?”

“You cannot be serious.” Caste said, voicing what they were all thinking.

“I know it’s not ideal,” Judd shrugged, “but it’s either this or we swim.”

“I cannot swim.” Aalis said faintly.

“I can and I’m still not keen.” Verne said darkly.

“It’s not going to sink.” Judd insisted. “I’ve seen some pretty awful boats before that stayed afloat and while this isn’t brilliant, it just needs to be handled correctly. Packs on first then we’ll get ourselves situated and balance it out before we are too deep. Alright?” They were still hesitant. “It’s going to get dark soon…”

Verne cleared his throat and heaved his pack on, also removing his footwear, Giordi doing the same. Judd held his hand out for Aalis’ pack which she gave up reluctantly and he set it down carefully.

“Come on, Caste.”

“I think I should…”

“Stay here by yourself and be eaten by a random three headed lion of Maul?” Giordi gave a shrug. “You’re probably right. What are the odds of that?”

Caste glowered at him then put his pack on the ferry. Judd gestured for them to push the ferry from the sand into the water from where he’d managed to drag it using the ferry house wheel. Once it was slightly bobbing in the water he turned to Aalis.

“Aalis, on you go…” Caste spluttered as Judd helped Aalis up. “Sit down in the centre as we push it out a little more.” They did so and to Caste’s relief, when the water reached his thighs, although everyone else just had wet knees, he was next to climb aboard. “Alrighty gents,” Judd cracked his knuckles and braced himself, “another few feet and we’ll be deep enough to get on ourselves.”

“At this rate we could walk to the isle…” Giordi muttered.

“It’s further than it looks.”

“I can’t see it at all now. Damn fog…it’s darkened everything and feels clammy.”

Judd let the others heave themselves up before doing the same, the ferry rocking and Caste giving light shriek of terror. Aalis would have done the same but she was already clutching the wheel and stifled her fear. Judd stood up, more at home on the deck of a boat than he would like to admit and quickly organised everyone to sit in certain spots, distributing the weight.

“Alright,” he looked around, “we’re ready to go?” He grabbed the wheel and turned it. Immediately the ferry lurched forward, Caste yelping in alarm as he was on the corner that was no longer fully supported due to the waterlogged barrel beneath. “Sorry, I’ll go more smoothly.”

Soon he managed to establish a rhythm and the ferry began to pull away from the shore, the ferry house disappearing as the fog settled between them. However, as was the nature of fog, the water of the channel around them was easier to see now. There was a circle about the size of the fighting tournament ring in Fort Bastil around them that was visible, the darkest teal depths lapping against the ferry, leaving swirling tendrils in its wake. But that was all they could see. The shore of both the mainland and the island disappeared. They could have been in the middle of the vast ocean so isolated were they.

Judd guessed that they were about halfway when Giordi looked around sharply, his weight shifting and the ferry dipping to one side in response.

“Sit still!” Caste snapped, his knuckles white and tight.

“Sorry but I thought I heard music.” Giordi explained.

“Music in the channel? Have you taken leave of your senses?”

“Possib…there!” Giordi peered into the fog. “I swear…the sound of strings…gentle plucking…”

“I can’t hear anything.” Verne shrugged.

Judd went to turn the wheel again when Caste jolted at the same time as Giordi. The minstrel eyed the cleric.

“I knew you had keen hearing!”

“Of course I do! I hear every wrong note you play!” Caste shivered. “Whatever I just heard…it wasn’t music…but more like…”

“Singing?”

“Yes.” Caste nodded. “I thought I heard someone singing.”

“Calling out for help?”

Caste shook his head then they all cried out as the ferry heaved right, straining against the cords, Judd clinging on.

“What are you doing?” Verne hissed.

“I didn’t do it!” Judd barked then stopped. He, Caste and Giordi all looked around. “Now that I heard!”

“What?” Aalis whispered, her body infused with terror.

“Someone is calling…singing out to me…” Judd peered into the fog. “Is anyone out there? Can you hear me?”

There was a splash. Judd, Caste and Giordi all leaned to look, Aalis clinging to the wheel.

“Judd LaMogre…”

“Where…” Judd turned around. “Where are you?”

“Here, Judd LaMogre…”

Aalis was starting to see shapes shift in the fog, as though the water was bubbling and releasing steam but rather than float upwards and dissipate, the white mist began to coalesce and for a moment…she thought she could see a face in it, the visage of a beautiful girl.

“Can’t you hear it?” Giordi cried. “It’s a woman! A woman calling out my name!”

“Giordi…sing to me…” The fog swirled and shifted and Giordi caught sight of a beautiful woman reclined on a rock, scantily clad with mournful eyes. “Sing words of love to me, Giordi Gavoli.”

“How can I refuse a maiden’s request?” Giordi crooned, edging to the lip of the ferry.

“A woman’s visage in the water…” Aalis breathed.

“Caste Undern, how your recitation of the table of the elements thrills me to my core…” A woman with long strands of hair falling over her bare shoulders drew herself onto the edge of the ferry, causing it to dip dangerously yet Caste was too enthralled to be frightened. “Speak to me now. Tell me your alternate theory of the genealogy of the monarchy…”

“Well…I really shouldn’t because the bishop hasn’t verified my paper…but what the Maul!”

“Calling out to men to come closer…” Aalis put her hands over her ears, trying to think while the sound of women’s voices, overlapping and becoming louder and shriller, began to pain her.

Judd held onto the wheel. “I’m here! Where are you?”

“Judd LaMogre…help me!” A pale hand reached up out of the water, her face following it as she kicked and struggled in the opaque teal depths. “Please!”

“To fall into the water…” Aalis’ eyes went wide. “Sirens!”