29 – Sirine Song
"If it so pleases the court, I choose death by succubus." – Attributed to Nysis Mediacros of Thay at his trial for murder (The Hathran judges were not amused.)
At highsun the party took a break from their hike along the jagged coast, sitting down on smooth, wind-worn rocks and breaking out some provisions from their packs. The whisper of the sea was present as always, waves lapping against the rocks beneath their picnic spot as the sun shone faintly through a grey sky. Today the wind that rolled off the Sea of Swords was relatively warm and gentle; just fierce enough to rustle hair and carry the scent of brine inland.
As they munched on dried nuts and a little salted beef Ashura broke the silence. "Just a couple more hours walk, right?" she asked as she chewed, eyes on Safana.
The Calishite nodded and swallowed. She reached into her pack and fished out a wineskin before finally speaking. "A few hours at most." With a smirk she pulled the stopper and took a drink. "We need to reach the cave well before nightfall, since much of it is below the tideline, though I advise caution. Don't want to alert the guardian unless we have to." She passed the wineskin to Imoen; a ration of Westgate Ruby that they had been sharing to wash these little picnics down over the past few days. There wasn't much left, just a few swallows sloshing around in the bladder.
"Quick and careful," Coran mused. "A delicate balance, but it so happens to be my specialty. Well, one of my specialties." He grinned at Safana, who returned his smile with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. By now Imoen had handed the wineskin to Viconia, and the dark elf took a grateful sip.
Placing a hand on Coran's shoulder, Safana climbed to her feet. "We should test those skills then." North of their picnic spot the cliffs of the coastline sloped downward, leveling into a strip of beach that stretched beneath stands of hearty pines. "How about we scout ahead while the others rest up? We need to make sure there's nothing dangerous between us and the cave."
Coran chuckled. "You just want to get me alone, I think."
Rolling her eyes, Safana turned from the elf. "You think wrong." Reaching over, she took Garrick by the arm and pulled at his sleeve. "Garrick, come along with us dear. To chaperone."
"Uh…I'm not the best-" Garrick stammered, though he did rise to his feet, letting himself be led forward.
"Yeah," Imoen protested, "I'm a better scout."
"Oh come now," Safana purred, "You can move quietly enough." She kept tugging and Garrick shrugged and followed.
After a gulp of wine Ashura frowned and watched the young bard walk towards the beach. He turned and gave her a bashful, apologetic smile before Safana pulled him farther down the slope and Coran rushed to follow.
"Well, just ignore me I guess," Imoen pouted as the three scouts walked off.
Viconia chuckled. "I suspect she wanted both the males to herself," she said, her voice slightly slurred.
Imoen laughed at that. "Ha ha! Yup. Her and her 'big strong men.' Shame she never actually found any. Just those two string-beans."
Ashura continued to frown as she watched Garrick disappear beyond the pines. She shook her head. What am I, jealous or something?
But something felt off. Wrong.
In fact the slow, sloppy motion of her head only reinforced that notion. When she turned a bit she saw two Imoens, red and violet blurring in Ashura's swimming vision. "Something's not right," she managed with a heavy tongue.
"Ya," Imoen replied. Was the girl swaying or was it Ashura's distorted vision? Or both?
Between them Viconia slumped forward, limp and gracelessly sliding off the rock. She fell to the ground in a heap.
Ashura blinked frantically, trying to clear her vision. "Hells!" she snarled, looking down at the object she was clutching. "The wine!" The skin slid out of her fingers, the few remaining drops splashing the pebbles.
"Ya," Imoen repeated in a spent and sleepy voice. "I think…think she drugged the…" She bent forward, sliding off her seat as well. For a moment Imoen managed to catch herself on her hands and knees, then she collapsed completely.
Trying her best to stand, Ashura merely managed to wobble and fell to her knees, her limbs useless and heavy as lead. It was a familiar sensation, not unlike the time she had been poisoned by an assassin's throwing knife about a month ago. With a furious growl she managed to place one hand in front of the other and crawl, sharp white pebbles digging into her palms.
Her pack was right there. If she could reach it, find one of the antidote potions…
The tension suddenly went out of her elbows and she fell, the earth a blur, flying up to meet her face.
As they quietly made their way through the trees at the edge of the beach Garrick looked over his shoulder again and again. Imoen had been right: this really wasn't his thing. Of course he supposed he might as well learn 'scouting.' Dutifully he tried to avoid stepping on any of the loose rocks or twigs that dotted the forest floor, each foot carefully placed as he tried to keep pace with Coran and Safana.
Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Safana had been so insistent that they go ahead, all of a sudden, and leave the rest of the women behind. That seemed odd, and strangely important.
Garrick's frown deepened when their leader turned a bit and led them out onto the open beach. He carefully followed, looking each way as he left the treeline. This didn't seem like scouting at all.
A sound carried across the surface of the water and the sand, and when it reached Garrick's ears it washed all of his apprehension away. It seemed to be a song: simple and wordless, carried by a voice that was vaguely feminine, but too high and resonant to be completely human. Memories of the college in Berdusk came flooding back to him; the first time he heard the haunting sound of Lady Cylyria singing the Ballad of Blacksaddle in the amphitheater, or the night that the toe-tapping rhythms of Avael's four-piece band drew him and a dozen others to the conservatory for a sudden, spur-of-the-moment dance.
In Berdusk, in the shadow of Twilight Hall, Garrick had thought he had heard every pitch the human voice can make, yet this song put them all to shame. He had to see the source. He simply had to.
His companions forgotten, the young man nearly skipped along as he made his way across the sand, searching desperately for the source of the song. Before it came into view two additional voices rose up, harmonizing with the first, and Garrick found his head swaying, giddy and in time with the echoing melody.
He quickened his pace as he spotted the singers: feminine silhouettes standing upon the sand, their skin the azure color of tropical waters and their hair the dark green of seaweed. There were five women in total, three facing the sea, their heads thrown back as they sang. The other two silently looked on, clutching bows of carved driftwood like sentinels, and on their backs hung baskets of woven seaweed bristling with arrows. The quivers were all that they wore beyond a few decorative strings of seashells and pearls, and the three singers were unarmed and similarly adorned.
As Garrick and the others approached, the singers and their guards turned from the sea, a pleased smile growing on the central woman's face. She continued to call with her wordless song as she beckoned with her hand, and Garrick hurried to obey. When he came within two paces of the beautiful creature she gestured again and he halted.
Revealing pearl-white teeth, the leading singer smiled and dropped her song, though her companions continued to hum. She seemed the most beautiful of the five; tall, strong and voluptuous all at once, and as Garrick stood and swayed before her he noticed that her hair slowly waved in the air above her head, buoyant and carried along by unseen currents.
The woman seemed to be speaking now, though Garrick had a hard time following the words. "You wish to pass, seafarer?" she asked Safana, half-speech and half-song.
Safana replied with a careful bow. "Aye. And as payment for passage through your lands, Lady Sil, I offer the customary tithe." She gestured towards Garrick and Coran.
Sil shook her head slightly, a scolding tone entering her voice. "A poor tithe you bring. Only two men? Though the younger one is pleasant to look upon at least."
"And the elf is quite experienced in the arts of love," Safana added, her head still bowed.
Sil's laughter was high and musical. "So you say." She approached, cocking her head this way and that as she inspected the two men, much like a farmer examining new horses. Or cattle.
Deep down Garrick's guts were churning, but at the same time his head was swimming, enraptured by the song. It was a strange, roiling mix of sensations: fear held back by fascination. Not to mention the acute tightening in his pants from the close proximity of this beautiful, near-naked creature.
A dangerous creature too, some part of him knew. A fey creature. A sirine.
"Your tithe is accepted," Sil finally proclaimed. "You may pass. Just you, and just this once. If you return see to it that you bring us something more. Three men, at the very least."
On his periphery Garrick could see Safana give one more quick bow before hastening along the beach.
By now the two other singers had dropped their song and were circling Coran, inspecting him as they whispered back and forth to each other. Garrick found himself blinking, his head still in a deep fog. He struggled to think, and better still to move, though little more than a shiver came of it.
Had he…had he been given to these creatures? Was he going to be enslaved? Again? What a fool he'd been, following Safana like that. She had never been their friend, in fact from the very beginning she had been his and Ashura's captor. He should have said something. He should…
His hand moved, desperately searching for the hilt of his rapier. Maybe if he could at least grip it…
Sil noticed his struggle and stepped closer, face to face with Garrick. "You're upset?" she cooed in a sing-song voice.
Despite himself Garrick's muscles relaxed, soothed by the melody. With a glance over at Coran, the sirine added: "Your companion seems content." The elven man was standing still, a blissful look on his face as the two unarmed sirines ran their hands along his body, assessing his musculature and gently tilting his face this way and that. "Some men find this the most desirable fate of all. Occasionally the offerings we get are volunteers from the pirate crews that wish safe passage: men who have decided to let go and spend their last days in bliss as our playthings."
Her smile grew predatory, and another shiver ran through Garrick's body. Weakly, he managed to speak. "What…what will you..?"
"Oh hush," the sirine whispered, reaching forward and placing a finger upon his forehead. "Don't you worry your pretty little head over it." As her fingertip made contact with his skin any trace of resistance was suddenly washed away.
He stared ahead, unthinking and compliant.
With a splitting headache worse than any she could remember and every limb still feeling like it was full of lead, Ashura somehow managed to push herself up. She wasn't sure if she had passed out or not, though the veiled sun above still cast the world in the same shade of grey. She didn't have the strength to stand, but on hands and knees she managed to point herself towards her pack and heave her body over to it, fingers digging into the sand.
Panting hard, she finally reached the satchel of cured leather and began sifting through it with clumsy, shaking hands. Beneath a wad of bandages she found what she was looking for: a thin glass vial, stoppered with a cork and full of a sloshing green liquid.
The apothecary had advertised these as magical potions that would 'cure any poison.' Hopefully whatever Safana had slipped them counted as such. She winced and almost gagged with the first taste of intense bitterness, but she managed to gulp it down.
Ashura hadn't realized how deeply she had been gasping until her breath slowed and calm warmth spread through her limbs. Rolling onto her back, she wiped the sweat from her brow and managed to sit up. There was still a little throbbing in her head but it was clearing, and her arms now felt deliriously light. She looked over at her companions, still slumped where they had fallen.
Her first instinct was to try to feed the other antidote potion to Imoen, but as she lifted the bottle out of the pack she realized that the drow priestess would likely have a spell that could do the same thing. If she could be trusted. Well, she'd better oblige after I wake her up.
Sitting down next to Viconia, Ashura gave the drow a testing shake, but she seemed to be dead to the world. Well, no need to be gentle then. Pulling on the drow's shoulders, Ashura managed to lay Viconia's head across her knee, mouth wide open. Not knowing what else to do she simply unstopped the cork and poured the foul liquid into the drow's mouth, using her other hand to keep Viconia's head straightened. It was a bit of a struggle, but she managed to force a swallow.
Viconia's eyes immediately shot open and she made an indignant, choking sound.
"Swallow," Ashura commanded. "You've got to swallow." There was rage in the drow's eyes, and her limbs twitched. She seemed to be trying to struggle, and the potion bottle was only half-empty. "Come on," Ashura growled. "It's a damn cure."
At those words Viconia's eyes seemed to soften, just a little. Ashura took that as a cue to pour the rest of the potion, and with a wince the drow drank. As soon as the liquid was gone Viconia shot up and off of Ashura's lap, wiping her mouth with a scowl on her face. "Jael usstan tlu pwiri?!" the dark elf snarled. When Ashura didn't answer, Viconia switched to her usual stilted Chondathan. "What happened? Who drugged me?"
"Saf-" Ashura began.
"That ilsik! I knew it! My instincts told me she was up to some treachery, but I thought perhaps I was simply misreading surfacer customs. Bah!" She shook her head. "Why did you not see this coming?"
"So can you wake Imoen up or did I just waste an antidote potion on you?" Ashura asked impatiently, ignoring the accusation.
Viconia's lip curled up into a snarl and she gave Ashura a hateful look. The next thing she did however was whirl away and climb to her feet, quickly stomping over to Imoen. "I have magic to relieve poison, yes."
"Then use it."
There was brief tension in the drow's posture, but without another word she knelt over Imoen and began to softly sing, her open hands just above the unconscious girl's chest. Brief ripples of darkness formed and danced between Viconia's fingers and seemed to connect with Imoen before winking out of existence. "The poison should be gone now," Viconia stated, "though she still sleeps."
Ashura knelt down beside the drow. "Yeah, she tends to sleep pretty soundly." She placed her hands on Imoen's shoulders and gave her friend a gentle shake.
It took a few moments of prodding but eventually Imoen blinked and opened bleary eyes. She rubbed her forehead and scrunched up her face while Ashura filled her in.
"Well imagine that," Imoen muttered once the story had been told. "We just got double-crossed by one of our traveling companions. What is this, the third time?"
"Yep."
"And she knocked us out and ran off with the men? Why the heck would she do that?"
"No idea," Ashura admitted, standing and impatiently turning towards the beach. "Let's find out." Without a backwards glance she began to walk.
"Okay okay," Imoen grumbled, fumbling with her quiver and bow. "Right behind you." She followed and Viconia fell in behind her, marching down the slope and onto the narrow spit of beach. Even now, long before high tide, there wasn't much beach to speak of; just little bars of soggy sand and piles of rock. Over the western sea the sun had finally broken through the clouds, the churning waves sparkling and illuminating the treacherous path.
There were no clear tracks to follow, so they simply marched beside the surf, trusting that the scouting party had followed the water and were somewhere up ahead. For a long time the whisper of the waves and the occasional creak of an old pine tree were the only sounds they heard. Eventually the murmur of distant voices carried over the sand as well, and three sets of footprints emerged from the trees to run ahead of them along the beach.
Keeping as silent as they could the three women quickened their pace and followed the trail, and when Ashura climbed over a small berm the source of the conversation came clearly into view. Coran and Garrick stood transfixed and completely still as five women with sea-blue skin moved around them. Farther up the beach Ashura caught a glimpse of Safana, the pirate-woman disappearing around a bend.
The blue-skinned creatures seemed to be inspecting their prisoners, and as Ashura drew closer her stomach turned at the look she saw in Garrick's eyes. Eyes that she had watched sparkle with sly mischief and youthful curiosity were empty now, dull as a cow's. Somewhere behind her Ashura briefly felt Imoen's hand at her shoulder, but by then she had pitched herself forward and begun to run headlong towards Garrick and the fey creatures that had enspelled him.
Caution would do no good. Perhaps if she could get the drop on them-
As one the five fey women turned towards the intruders and as one they opened their mouths. The resonant, wordless song hit Ashura like a cool sea breeze and slowed her in her tracks. Three paces and she had stopped completely, the reason for her haste and fury suddenly forgotten.
Four voices continued to fill the air as the tallest woman at the center of the entourage stepped forward and eyed the newcomers. In addition to the glittering shells that decorated her body there were strings of pearls woven through her hair, giving the impression of some sort of crown.
She had to be their leader. The Queen of the Sirines.
Even in the haze Ashura was certain that was what these creatures were, detailed in several bestiaries she had read as a child. Perhaps caution would have been a good idea after all…
"More visitors on our shore?" the Sirine Queen asked in a playful voice. "What an eventful afternoon. Although…" she shook her head, "…tsk tsk. It's three women. You offer no tithe?"
"Tithe?" Ashura asked in a dreamy voice. Her head was in a fog but the sirine's tone compelled her to speak.
"Yes. To pass along our shores you must give us an offering of suitable…" she reached over to Garrick and lifted his chin with her fingertip, "playthings. Otherwise the punishment for trespassing is most sever. Every sailor in these parts should know of this."
"I'm no sailor," Ashura found herself saying.
A playful laugh. "Obviously. I suppose that you were after these two," she gestured towards Coran and Garrick. "That woman stole your men and brought them here? She had the look of a thief."
Ashura found herself nodding. "She betrayed us."
More laughter. The fey woman shook her head, the free locks of her hair curling like tendrils, defying gravity. "Well, the circumstances matter not to me. What does matter is that you walked our beach with no tithe. There's only one thing to do in that case." She turned her back to the three intruders and guided Garrick with her, beginning to walk up the shore. Two of the other sirines took Coran by the arms and pulled him along behind their leader.
After a few lazy steps the Queen turned slightly and spoke over her shoulder to the last pair of sirines; the ones that carried bows of carved driftwood in their hands. "Vex and Tyn: take care of these three will you?" she commanded.
One of the bow-wielders nodded. "Yes mistress Sil."
"Join us when you're finished, but do make a good sport of it, alright?"
"We'll save some of them for you two," one of the other sirines who was walking Coran up the beach added with a sly grin.
"Oh we will huh?" the other teased.
Ignoring them, Vex and Tyn turned towards Ashura and her companions. "This should be fun," one of them sang. "We haven't had a good hunt in ages."
"We shouldn't draw it out toooo long," the second one said, pulling an arrow that seemed to be tipped with sharpened coral from her quiver as she gave a significant look backwards. Sil and her little entourage where disappearing around the same bend in the shore that Safana had recently taken.
"But the hunt's no fun if you don't make it last," the other protested.
Shaking her head the second sirine hummed a few bars and placed her arrow against the bowstring. "Either way, let's get moving." She addressed the captives. "Let's get rid of those weapons shall we. And that armor that the dark-haired one's wearing as well. We want everything nice and fair."
Ashura's hands shook as she reached for her swordbelt. Maybe she could draw her weapons and surprise these creatures. But despite her struggles she found her fingers seeking the clasp of the belt instead.
A rush of air and darkness stopped her, her vision filling with impenetrable black. She blinked in confusion as thin fingers gripped her bicep and yanked her backwards. A few stumbling steps and she was in the sun again, facing a dark, billowing cloud. With twin whistles two objects pierced the darkness and flew by; splotchy driftwood shafts tipped with filed coral. The shots were blind and missed wildly.
"Dos vrai wael!" Viconia was shouting right into her ear. "Move! To the trees."
Shaking the fog from her head Ashura obeyed, sand flying as they sprinted for the cover of the pines, Imoen already running ahead of them. Each step cleared her head a little more, and as they left the beach she drew her swords with a scowl. Bloody mind-control magic!
"Perhaps this will be a fine hunt after all, sister!" one of the sirines behind them was singing out.
Ducking behind a tree trunk and bracing herself, Ashura looked back. The sirine's had passed through the wall of inky black and taken opposite paths, closing on the patch of trees from separate angles. They glided along on their bare feet, quick and fluid as eels, their long green hair floating behind them and whipping with each turn.
"Indeed!" the other sirine responded. "The feistiest prey we've had in ages." With that their bodies shimmered like the surface of the sea and they seemed to grow less and less substantial with each step. Soon they were lost among the trees, though Ashura thought she saw an unnatural glint here and there.
Sirine's can make themselves invisible at will. She was sure she had read that in a bestiary somewhere. Great.
"Can you dispel that?" Ashura hissed at Viconia, gesturing with the hilt of her righthand sword in the general direction of the hunters.
The drow was crouched against a neighboring tree, a tight look on her face. She shook her head slightly.
"Shit. We need to be able to see," Ashura muttered, and with those words Viconia's eyes brightened as something seemed to occur to her.
At the same time Ashura felt an intense tingling in her right arm and pushed off and away from tree. The arrow followed an instant later, piercing the bark with a thump. Something black and wet dripped from the arrowhead where it had struck. Some sort of deep-sea poison, perhaps?
A second sharp tingle at her chest prompted her to duck low, and as the arrow sailed by she tried to follow its path with her eyes. She's close. Beside that thornbush.
Ashura charged.
Before she reached the spot where she guessed the enemy lurked, the trees and brush vanished around her, swallowed up by thick grey mist. Another sirine trick, she thought at first, but before her in the wispy fog a feminine outline was moving, dancing away from her and carrying a bow. Wherever the sirine went she displaced the mist, and Ashura followed.
"Our prey, our prey, so full of tricks and treachery," the siren sang as she darted through the mists, improvising. In the ghostly fog her melody sounded a bit off, distorted. "But I'm tricky as the undertide, and soon you'll be drawn down with me."
The siren was almost close enough to stab, but Ashura couldn't seem to line her swords up and move properly. She felt as if the fog was a solid thing around her, something she had to swim through. Ghostly singing turned to laughter as the sirine's bow groaned, point-blank.
No. A cold burst of frustration and rage pushed the mental fog away, and without thought or care Ashura pressed forward. Her righthand sword bit deep into driftwood and the bow snapped as it was knocked from the sirine's hands. She continued to lunge, and the left sword struck something solid and kept going.
Soothing song became a banshee-wail, ear-piercing and close. With a few steps the mist parted and the creature in front of Ashura shimmered into view. The sirine was stuck on her lefthand sword, struggling like a skewered fish.
Or a shark.
The creature's mouth was open wide in an inhuman scream of rage, revealing rows of jagged teeth, and as she flailed fingers that had once seemed soft and manicured extended and became dagger-sharp claws. They swiped at Ashura's face, and somehow the creature's arms seemed to bend unnaturally and grow. There was a sharp sting and a gush as the claws bit into Ashura's cheek.
The force of the blow turned her head, and after the sting a numbness quickly set in. Ashura was already tilting her right arm back though, and with a primal growl of her own she stabbed, driving her righthand sword through the creature's torso beside the left and lifting her enemy fully off the ground.
The sirine was a blur of lashing fury now, claws buffeting Ashura's face. There was an explosion of pain…and then nothing.
She came to laying on the ground, her head foggy and her hands empty. She blinked and shook herself, pushing up and trying desperately to piece together what had happened.
Movement to her right.
Ashura turned, grasping for her swords but finding only empty air. Empty air seemed to be what she was facing as well; what was moving were two arrow-shafts that seemed to float on their own above the ground, a few paces away.
The other sirine! Ashura desperately scrambled backwards, trying to crawl away from her invisible foe. The arrows drew closer, bobbing along quickly, though it was impossible to tell how close the siren's claws were.
Impossible that is, until steel sang through the air and sank into the invisible creature with a wet thunk. There was a shimmer and the sirine grew corporeal again, a faint hiss escaping her lips as her eyes rolled back in her head. She sank to her knees half-a-pace from Ashura and another prismic shimmer ran across the surface of her skin. It was as if a bubble had burst; blue skin became white sea-foam, and the sirine dissolved before Ashura's eyes. Within the parting foam floated strings of shells, along with two arrows and Viconia's sharpened throwing-ring. Beside the disintegrating creature lay another puddle of foam, roughly shaped like a person's silhouette.
As she stood and blinked away the fog in her head Ashura recalled more from the bestiaries. Supposedly sirines could shapeshift to some extent, and their touch could rob you of your mind. The dying creature's claws had very nearly left Ashura open for the second sirine, but the danger was over now.
Still, there were three more of those things out there. And they had Garrick and Coran. As Ashura searched the mossy soil around her and retrieved her swords Viconia swooped in, whispering a minor prayer and brushing her dark fingers across Ashura's face. The scrapes where the sirine's claws had bitten deep stopped stinging and began to itch instead.
"Thanks." After wiping some of the blood from her cheeks Ashura stood and gave her companions a look. "Come on," she muttered, gesturing up the beach. Imoen instantly nodded and they began to march towards the surf once more.
"We seek revenge then?" Viconia asked as she fell in behind them.
"Yeah," Ashura replied, glaring ahead.
"And Garrick and Coran too," Imoen interjected, a frown in her voice.
"Of course." The trail was clear, pairs of footprints both booted and bare marched along the beach in a single direction, over little dunes and around jagged rocks. Imoen took a breath, sounding as if she would say something more, but in the end she fell silent.
"Do the fools truly need to be sought?" Viconia asked after a time. "It seems they have stumbled into a fate many males would envy, enthralled by a beautiful fey creature."
Ashura shot her a quick glare and said nothing.
"Uh…" Imoen managed, cringing, "maybe, but I've read some nasty stories 'bout what sirines and other creatures like them do with their playthings once they get bored with them."
The look Viconia gave her suggested that she didn't understand the problem with that.
Eyes constantly sweeping ahead, they followed the shore past glistening seaweed, dirty sand speckled with shells and narrow passages where the land loomed above them and the surf crashed against the rocks. "Their song," Imoen ventured, breaking the silence again. "What are we going to do about that? I'm not too keen on getting charmed again."
"I may have a solution," Viconia stated cautiously. "Provided we act before the creatures can make themselves invisible."
Before she could explain further they rounded a sharp bend in the jagged coast. Ahead of them stretched a white sandbar stained here and there with green and marred by several trails of footprints. The tracks diverged just before reaching a wall of stone and a low black opening cut into the rock, one pair of prints continuing into the cave and the others veering and following the coast.
For the first time since she had begun marching up the beach Ashura stopped, her knuckles white as she gripped her swords.
"The trail of the bitch who poisoned us and set your males up," Viconia noted, pointing towards the single pair of footprints that disappeared into the cave. Safana was in there somewhere, searching for the treasure that she had been willing to sacrifice a dozen companions to reach.
"No doubt," Ashura agreed, her voice a low growl. Surf hissed nearby as the sea broke upon the shore, and in the distance the roar of the next wave sounded across the water as it built.
"Shura?" Imoen's voice was low, half-catching in her throat. The next wave broke upon the sand and found the three in silence. Imoen seemed reluctant to voice the rest of her question, but Ashura knew it anyway.
And she knew the answer.
Swiftly, Ashura turned to the left and began to stomp forward, damp sand flying as her boots disturbed the footprints of the sirines and her captured friends. She gestured with her sword as she went. "Come on. We've got some bewitched dumbasses to rescue."
Author's Note: Wherein we finally learn why Safana was so keen on getting 'big strong men' to help her with her treasure hunt, and making constitution her primary stat finally pays off for Ashura. Also I got to invent some drow curse words.
In this story Sil and her little band are a lot more sinister than sirines are often portrayed in D&D lore. In the game they do attack you on sight, after all.