It was universally decided, without discussing it, to travel to Fort Sol inland, climbing up the sandy, gorse bush and grey grass headland to where the beach finally ended. No one wanted to walk along the beach, despite Fort Sol being built on the most south easterly point of the isle, on top of a cliff so that it had a clear line of sight to Fort Callain, at least on a clear day.

Though the sirens were only reported to inhabit deeper waters, none of the men wanted a repeat of the channel crossing.

“There is some evidence, of sailors who lashed themselves to their masts so they couldn’t throw themselves into the ocean, that they developed a kind of immunity to the call of the sirens.” Caste remarked.

“We await your confirmation…” Giordi gestured to the channel.

Caste paled. “I think I am happy with it being an unconfirmed theory…”

“We are going to have to cross the channel to get back,” Judd said what they had all come to the conclusion to in their own minds, “but before we do, I’d like to go to Fort Sol and see how long the sirens have been here for.”

“Yes,” Verne mused, “you would think the presence of sirens would have been reported to the Order of the Grail…even trumping the presence of an orthros.”

“There was no report before I left Astaril,” Caste paused, “however, I have been gone for close to two months…”

“Unless no one survived to make the report…” Giordi felt rather than saw their glares. “We were all thinking it.”

Judd sighed and nodded. “When we reach Fort Sol, we’ll ask the cleric for more information about it.”

“Who is the knight in charge?”

Caste thought for a moment. “Sir…Bobellion.”

They walked steadily onwards, the clouds diffusing the sunlight. The channel had lost its teal darkness but instead had opted to reflect the sky and was as grey as the clouds. Waves thrashed, capped with white and the isle had an abandoned atmosphere. From the ferry house there was a track beyond the beach which led to a road of packed earth. Trees grew sparsely and the vegetation was even more so. There were fences but from what any of them could see, there were no animals beyond. No cattle, sheep, pigs, goats and the only birds they spied were the ones that soared overhead, howling a gloomy caw.

“Not the friendliest of locations.” Judd murmured. “I would have thought, or hoped, we’d come across people by now.”

“Given the deserted nature of the ferry, I think the trouble on Keenstone has grown since the sighting of orthros was reported.”

Judd licked his lips. “What…what do you suppose happened to them?”

“The only scenario I can imagine is that someone, possibly going to plead with King Rocheveron to send aid to the isle, was on the ferry, the Keenstone isle side already deserted and they were attacked by sirens. The mainland ferryman might have heard the lament and tried to help…” Giordi said lightly, distancing himself from the gruesome scenario.

“Tell me you did not lie awake last night imagining such things?” Caste shuddered.

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“It is the curse of an active imagination,” Giordi shrugged, “it is hard to turn off.”

Judd clutched at the straps of his pack clumsily in his gauntlets. He had chosen to march in his armour as the report of the orthros sighting had not said where on the isle it was. He wanted to be ready at a moment’s notice to leap into battle and clutched at the hilt of his sword, feeling a sense of security at its heavy, solid presence.

He looked over at Aalis who travelled quietly, her eyes as grey as the clouds. He wanted to strike up conversation with her and had just decided on a topic when she turned her head and smiled at Verne who returned it with a small one of his own.

Judd’s heart sank. What had happened with the sirens was a little blurry in his mind. It had been like a dream that he had willingly participated in only to have sense and reason return when he was awake and felt ashamed of his conduct. He knew the siren had called to him, had pleaded with him to save her…yet Judd had somehow known that she was simply trying to draw him into the water with the promise of lustful fulfillment. Even now he felt the skin beneath the gorget of his armour grow hot in anticipation of the sweaty, dangerous liaison. Every pore in his body had been saturated with a terrible desperation and all else was inconsequential. He would have thrown Aalis into the water to the sharks had the siren ordered him to do so and he cursed his fickle nature that would have tossed aside the woman he deeply appreciated over a single, heady romp in the water.

He suspected Aalis was being very discreet and considerate of all their illusions yet she could not be unaware of how their innermost immature desires were laid bare. Aalis probably couldn’t stand the sight of Judd now after seeing how he would behave if all inhibitions were removed.

No wonder she had gone after Verne when he’d left the ferry house last night. Verne had probably been restrained or at least modest. Perhaps his illusion had been of Aalis herself and Aalis had seen it and…

“You have a face like thunder, LaMogre.” Giordi remarked, surprising Judd who hadn’t seen him come along side. “Ready for battle?”

“Wasting energy on beating myself up.” Judd sighed. “It won’t change what happened.”

“You speak of your conduct in the channel?” Judd hung his head. Giordi clapped him on the shoulder then winced at the unyielding metal. “You were drugged, addled…out of your mind.”

“Yes but of all people to witness it…”

“Aalis?” Giordi raised his eyebrows. “I think she, as much as you, wishes to put it behind us.”

“I just can’t imagine what she must think of me now.”

“Judd, if you are that keen on the fair maid, why do you not woo her?”

“Woo?”

“With words and songs and confidence.” Giordi chuckled and waved his hand in front of Judd. “Show her the suave Judd, the strong and bold, the brave and daring…the romantic knight to be.” Judd snorted. “You disapprove?”

“I read the stories of knights and have listened to dozens of your songs since you’ve joined the party and while I may have had illusions about simply just being a brilliant warrior knight, I always knew I was never going to be one of the romantic ones.” Judd shrugged helplessly. “I…I grew up on the docks of Astaril. I know my speech isn’t what you would call refined and maybe if I was interested in a girl from the world I was brought up in, fine words would be pretentious…but I’m out here in Terra…standing before knights and their sword masters and ladies…”

“You’d like to be able to sound as though you belong?”

“I can hold my own,” Judd explained, “but doing so elegantly...”

“Words full of such rapier wit that your host doesn’t realise he’s bleeding because he is laughing so hard?”

“Exactly!” Judd paused. “Well, maybe not exactly…I don’t want to insult people…” He stopped when Giordi put his hand on his shoulder.

“I think I might be able to help you. As one who has sampled the gracious hospitality of many knights and their ladies and observed their interactions, I have absorbed much of their language and poise.” Giordi winked. “Our first task is to have you speak words of elegance to make a certain lovely lady blush.”

Judd tried to glance over his shoulder at Aalis but it was hard to do so subtly when clad in armour. “Is…is that something you can…learn?” He asked hopefully.

Giordi studied Judd. “You would be surprised.”

Judd nodded, licking his lips. “Well…if you don’t mind trying to teach me, I’m open to learning.”

“Excellent,” Giordi rapped his armour, “let us start with how to greet a married woman verses an unmarried woman. It is an important lesson to get right.”

“You speak from personal experience?”

Giordi sighed dramatically as he was prone to do. “Judd, if I may say so, learn from my mistakes rather than make them yourself.”