Page 13 of I Summon the Sea

I watched it all from the barge’s side, on which I spent the night perched like a curious bird. Sleep was beyond me, I discovered, and I couldn’t be sure that any random drunk fae guard wouldn’t try to assault me if they found me asleep and vulnerable.

But now we’re once more setting off in the direction of the World Pillar and theanaktor.

Legend has it that the fae found an old, ruined palace there, from a time who knows how many Reversals ago, and rebuilt it for their ceremonies and festivals in honor of the Pillar.

Here is the interesting thing. The fae honor and revere the Pillar holding up the Nine Worlds because they believe it caused the last Reversal. That Reversal was a pivotal event, for it granted them access to this world and hopefully to more in the future.

At the same time, humanfolk and merfolk lament the last Reversal not only because it killed so many, not only because we had to start once more from scratch on this earth that for a thousand years was our sky, but also because it brought the fae and led to the loss of their freedom.

By reversing the worlds, turning the underworld into an upperworld and thus smudging the boundaries between the sacred and the profane, reality and myth, first turning the earth into the sky and the sky into the earth, and then as the water and debris fall through the opening gates turning deserts into seas, and seas into mountain ranges and wet plains, every Reversal is said to reshape both the universe and fate.

I wouldn’t know much about it. The last one happened long before my time.

As for me, I’m going to the festival for my own reasons.

I touch the symbol painted on my neck, marking me as a pilgrim. Quite a few humans will be there, those converted to the fae Empire’s beliefs, convinced that they need the Empire to protect them against the monsters falling through the rifts and caverns in the sky.

The human race seems divided between those fighting tooth and nail to topple the fae king—as if there’s any chance of that, especially since he has both magic and a drak rider army on his side—and those who have accepted their fate.

Glancing over my shoulder, I see the cages reflecting the dawn that’s spreading over the firmament. The dark forms huddled inside look like shadows.

In contrast, the shadow warrior, the King’s Sword, is nowhere to be seen.

I settle on the first barge again, chewing on a blade of grass I picked on the shore, trying to clear my mind. Telling myself everything will go according to plan.

As much as planning this whole thing was ever possible.

The guards seem on edge as the punters slide their long poles into the murky bottom of the river, pushing us forward. This close to the Pillar and the Central Sea, no human settlements are to be found, except for the occasional ruin.

A few white arches.

A few crumbling walls, overcome by lichens and moss.

Some scraggly trees, dark with rot.

The remnants of what must have been an inn or a mansion, a darakin—the smallest kind of dragon, elusive and cute but deadly—circling over its walls.

The river narrows around another bend, rocks on one side and an ancient wall on the other. The convoy slows down, the punters shouting directions at one another across barges. The deck underneath me wobbles as they push and maneuver the long, flat boat so it doesn’t hit the banks, edging toward the wider side to avoid the rocks.

A splash at the side of the boat has the guards tensing, lifting their spears. The water ahead bubbles and ripples. Long hair spills on the surface, green, blue, and gold.

Heads rise over the surface, and a song unfurls, silvery and sweet, rising and falling on the breeze like chimes and bells and sorrow.

“Mermaids!” a guard yells. “It’s fucking mermaids! Stuff your ears!”

The guards lift their hands to their short bronze helmets and lower leather bands with some sort of ear stoppers.

Nice touch.Looks like they’re prepared for a number of eventualities on their journey, which shouldn’t surprise me. It is, after all, an annual event. They have had three hundred years since the last Reversal to organize themselves, though I admit I barely knew what to expect of them when I stood on that sinking boat.

Then someone yells, “Human girl! Your ears!”

I stare as the guard stomps toward me, lifting a hand to catch my attention. I recognize Tru.

“Block your ears!” he thunders, then he mimics the action—once again thinking me deaf. Or maybe he’s the one who’s deaf now, with those things stuffed inside his pointy ears. “Mermaid song. Don’t listen! It will mean your death.”

Mermaid song makes you reminisce, lose yourself in memory and dream. It tugs at you, makes you want to jump into the water and follow the melody… until you drown.

Song, voice, sound. That’s the merfolk’s greatest magic. I know that. Everyone knows that.

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