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creatures not only could sing a man to his watery death, they could also bite like sharks.
    Eirik increased the forward pressure of the blade until a droplet of blood formed above the mermaid’s breasts. With an unholy scream of rage, she performed a backwards flip and returned to the water. The music suddenly ceased and was replaced by a cacophony of angry cries. The mermaids no longer leaped and dove playfully. They began to launch themselves from the water and slap at the sailors with their powerful tails. Some dove head first at the rowers and gnashed at their arms and shoulders with their teeth. Soon, red splattered and stained the men’s tunics.
    Every sailor not manning an oar drew his sword. Sven ran shouting towards Alf and made a slash for the neck of the mermaid who tormented him. If she had not jackknifed her slender body away from the ship at the exact moment she did, her head would have been severed from her shoulders. Sven quickly jammed a roll of cloth into Alf’s empty ear.
    Moments later, the dark-haired mer creature resurfaced from the water with such force that it propelled her entirely across the deck of the ship. She dove into the sea on the other side and immediately leaped once more from the waves with a bloodcurdling scream. This time, she flew towards the lookout high in the crow’s nest. The sailor hastily unsheathed his knife and stabbed as she launched herself upon him. She sailed across the tip of his blade, screaming in agony as it scored her belly, but it did not stop her from sinking her teeth into his shoulder. She plunged into the surf, leaving the lookout sailor wheezing in pain and gripping a bloody shirt.
    The Vikings were the fiercest warriors on the sea, but they could never hope to win such a battle. Their ship was too small, and they were pitifully outnumbered. Dread swelled and thickened in Branwyn’s throat as her worst fears unfolded. The men were going to perish, and she with them, unless.... She shook the tentacles of horror from her mind, pressed a hand to the silver cross at her throat, and raised the wand in her other hand. “Forgive me, mother,” she mouthed. For the first time in her life, she was about to break one of the cardinal rules of a healer. She was going to employ her magic to wage war.
    She closed her eyes and imagined the dome as she first formed it in her head. It started with a warm circle of pale blue light and built until it burned brightly in her mind’s eye. It was the sort of magic her mother had strictly forbidden her. She had no idea if she was even strong enough to pull it off, but she had to try. “Power of fire and wind and sea. I call upon your mighty three. Bring down a shield upon this brig. Keep evil out; let these men live. May all harm fade from them to me. So mote it be. So mote it be.”
    When Branwyn opened her eyes, the dark-eyed nymph was leaping again from the foam and sailing straight towards the mast, straight for her. With a roar of rage, Eirik dashed to the center of the ship, a sword in each hand. He took a flying leap to throw himself in front of Branwyn, but only a swirl of warm air crossed the rail to envelop them.
    The mermaid halted her advance in midair as if slamming into an invisible wall. Her arms flew out from her sides, and her head jerked viciously back as if pulled by a marionette. She slid moaning back into the sea.
    Several more mermaids attempted to leap into the boat and met with the same results. In moments, a half dozen mer bodies littered the surf, limp and battered. Slowly, the unconscious ones sank below the waves. The unharmed mer creatures paused in their assault of the ship and began to retreat, horror twisting their lovely features. Some drug wounded comrades by an arm or tail. The Viking crew gazed after them in amazement as the last one disappeared from view with a moaning sob of defeat.
    Branwyn continued to hold the shield over the longship. “Power of fire and wind and sea,” she chanted