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Slithice admired the twin round holes in her hood. When she had first joined the Slithereen Guard as a determined young woman her hood was pierced with a pin, once on each side of her head, as was their way of marking new soldiers and welcoming them to the fold. Shortly after her first combat she was given her first set of plugs, made of cut and smoothed coral, designed to stretch out the original piercing. It was a sign of rank among her kin; the larger the holes, the more notable the warrior. Over her years of service the size of her plugs had grown, each new plug a testament to her prowess in battle.
It was a tradition learned from, ironically enough, pirates of old. When they would die at sea the gold hoop set in their ear, eyebrow or nose would be used by their shipmates to pay for their burial. At first all ranks of the guard wore simple plugs to clarify their duty, but over time ranks were established by the material of the plug or, in commanding officers, the hoops set through the stretched holes. It wasn’t used to pay for burials but it meant that a dying Silthereen of notable rank could be identified among the others.
Now her plugs were to be removed completely. In part it was a pity. Her current plugs, the largest a Slithereen wears in the guard, were not mere corals but rings of gold that shimmered and shone as she swam through ripples of light near the surface. She had grown fond of their simple beauty, how they complimented her hood and eyes. But it was necessary to leave them behind, as she was moving up in rank once again. Slithice dressed herself appropriately for the ceremony, recalling the battle that had granted her this boon.
A collection of ships had circled one of their cities, greedy nets and sailors diving into the waters to try and claim the treasures within for their own. Time was precious; with every second that passed more gold was loaded onto the awaiting ships. Slithice had to think quickly. If the sailors were alerted to the incoming army of Slithereen then the ships would sail, and it would be impossible to stop them all. It was a stroke of stupidity on the part of the pirates that gave Slithice her chance; the boats were staying together, waiting to be fully loaded before leaving as a fleet, probably so they can protect each other from other men as they returned home.
The delay gave their allies the time to catch up. As the Slithereen Guard rose from the depths of the murky water, spears and blades and bashers drawn, Slithice burst from the water and sang. Not all Slithereens could sing; it was an ancient spell, passed down from the Sirens of old, and none had mastered it as Slithice had. Her song brought the surface world to a halt. Every man, from sailor to diver, captain to scuttle-boy, froze in place. Through her voice they dreamed. Dreamed of sweethearts and loved ones, of wealth and luxury, of fame and titles. And as they dreamed, the Guard swam into position.
The moment Slithice stopped singing, the waters erupted. The hulls of the would-be looters ships splintered and broke under the assault of the Slithereen, sinking into the churning sea. Divers were dragged under, lungs filling with blood or seawater. Life rafts tipped over in the thrashing waves, unloading their unlucky cargo into the bloody water. The Guard swam and attacked as a pack of piranha, slicing apart any who attempted to swim after the sinking treasure.
Yet the plunderers wouldn’t let go of their stolen gains so easily. Harpoons pierced the water, seeking prey. Silthereen were pulled aboard in an attempt to catch them out of water, blades sinking into their scales. Gold was tossed into chests or bags, stuffed into pockets as they attempted to escape the battle and leave their allies to die as a diversion. Yet the Silthereen persisted. Using her ability to create illusions Slithice hunted down those who fled, the nets of her fellows flying true. All would die if that’s what it took to reclaim what was rightfully theirs.
The end result was a triumph for the Silthereen; every pirate ship had sunk and every bit of treasure, from jewels to coin, was reclaimed. Those who died had given their lives willingly for the Guard and could rest in honour. Only a few life rafts sailed away from the scene, carrying injured, empty-handed sailors home. They would remember this for years to come. Whether their tales encouraged other treasure-hunters or encouraged them to keep away was for the future to decide. For the Silthereen Guard, this victory was to be celebrated.
For her part in disabling the enemy and allowing the Silthereen the greatest advantage in going into battle, Silthice was to be promoted. Garbed in formal armour, complete with two decorative swords in hand, she was ready. Her golden plugs would be removed as part of the ceremony. She would bow before the Captain of the Guard and be named a Colonel before her peers. Then her plugs would be removed and, in their place, she would be given two golden hoops to hang from her stretched lobes. Lastly, yet most importantly, she would be introduced to the women and men of her battalion. It was a high honour and came with heavy responsibility.
A knock came to the door of her room.
“Siren, five minutes and you’re expected to be in the receiving chamber.” She grinned to her reflection, admiring her golden plugs one last time.
“I’m ready!”