The Song of the Sirin by Nicholas Kotar

Author:Nicholas Kotar [Kotar, Nicholas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Waystone Press
Published: 2017-06-30T22:00:00+00:00

“Well, Tarin? Didn’t expect me to have a story that good in my skirts, did you?”

“Tut, tut.” He winked at her. “Our judges have yet to make their choice.”

The Alkonist were already conferring under the drowned girl’s tree, since it seemed she refused—or was unable— to come down. Voran could not hear what they were saying, or if they were speaking in a human language at all. There were far too many squeaks, burbles, clicks, and whoops for normal speech. Finally, they seemed to agree, though the drowned girl looked morose again. Voran hoped that meant she would not be allowed to tickle him to death.

“We judge in favor of Tarin,” said the cat. “Hag, you must leave the Lows immediately. Since you seem to like the Raven so much, we suggest you join him. He’s in Vasyllia.”

Voran froze in place. The Raven was already in Vasyllia? Could that be possible?

The spark in the hag’s eyes spewed into angry flames. Starting with a low rumble, she shrieked, louder and louder until Voran thought his ears would burst. Her hair stood on end like a writhing mass of snakes. She pulled a jagged knife out of nowhere and lunged at Voran, arm upraised. She was a mere breath from plunging the knife into his heart, when she jerked backward as though someone threw a rope around her neck and pulled it hard. Voran looked at Tarin, thinking he had done it, but the old man stood a little way off, holding his knit cap to his head, staring up at a lamentation of migrating swans. Lesnik was once more the size of a tree, and one hand was outstretched toward the hag.

“Let me go!” she screamed and thrashed wildly as she began to float above the ground.

“The power of words can turn iron to gold, or bind fetters as fast as the roots of the elm,” said the giant Lesnik. “You know the power of incantation, and yet you still defy it. Your kind was always too smart for your own good. Now pay the price.”

She began to hiss. Wider and wider grew her eyes, louder and more insistent grew the hissing. A snake’s forked tongue darted out of her still human mouth. Voran turned away to find Tarin next to him, looking at him intently.

“What’s happening to her?” asked Voran.

“Focus,” commanded Tarin. He pulled out an old sword from his robe-skirts. It was only then that Voran noticed the ropy muscle of the man’s arm. Tarin was an old warrior; the signs were all there. “Stay alert,” he said and gave him the sword.

Voran felt a gust of wind from the direction of the hag. He turned to face her and nearly fell over from the shock. Instead of a hag, he saw two dancing reptilian heads attached to a serpent body as big as a longboat. She flapped two bat-like arms and flew up. One of the heads lunged at him and hot fangs slashed at his neck as he rolled away.

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