Page 24 of I Summon the Sea

“Spears!” Athdara roars, and the guards scramble to offer him their spears. He grabs two and turns around, marching along the side of the barge to the back.

To the black drak.

The creature shakes out its great leathery wings, opens a mouth full of fangs, and screeches. Its eyes glow like lamps, yellow and malevolent. Its crest rises in spikes of green and blue, tipped with black.

As I watch, Athdara runs across the deck until he reaches the creature. Then he jams both spears in one hand and uses the other to grab and haul himself onto the drak’s back, black boots finding footholds on the drak’s folded legs.

I’m watching with my mouth open as he settles behind the crested head, and the drak rises in the air with a mighty flap of its leathery wings.

Another flap brings him over the barge, a long shadow, Athdara holding both spears at his sides again, black hair whipping in the wind.

Together they dive down, into the heart of the maelstrom.

Getting to my feet is an arduous task. The barge is still tipped forward despite the rowers continued efforts to pull it back, the prow pitched over the abyss of the giant eddy—into which Athdara and the drak just dived.

My arm muscles burn as I drag myself further up the deck and put my feet under me.

My chest feels too tight. It’s fear, I tell myself, and itisthat, too, but also… a tug inside me, behind my ribs. I have no idea what it could be.

Hunched over, I climb up toward the hold. When a strong hand grabs my elbow and helps me up, it turns out to belong to Arkin.

“Rae!” he yells over the deafening noise of the whirlpool. “Are you okay?”

I nod, clinging to the fae guard, my teeth chattering. Then I glance back down, where the water forms a dark hole, churning and swirling in the depths, pulling us in.

Athdara, I form the name with numb lips, gesturing at it.

“Didn’t I tell you he’s mad?” Arkin says, reluctant respect in his voice. “Completely, utterly, fucking mad. Tru is wrong not to believe it.”

Mad, how?I tap the side of my head, twirling my finger.

“Mad as they come.” His voice is barely audible over the shrieking of the whirlpool and the creaking of the barge. “Mad as a drak in the spring. Mad as a jackal. His shadow powers don’t work in the water. If the funnel collapses…”

Frowning, I let him help me to the edge of the hold. I grip it and hiss, my wrist burning. With my luck, I’ve broken it at the worst possible time. Then I grab the ledge harder, with both hands, as the barge tips forward more.

With a muttered curse, Arkin follows suit, looking down at the abyss into which we’re about to drop.

Behind us, muffled by the noise of the water, I can hear the oarsmen and guards shouting orders for the rest of the convoy to row back.

“Fucking games,” he grumbles, his long red hair whipping over his face. He’s lost his helmet somewhere, his sharply-pointed ears peeking through his hair, adorned with silver. “Fucking sea.”

Then, a greatwhooshthrows us backward. The barge wobbles, then crashes back on the water, throwing everyone and everything all over the deck.

The black drak and its rider fly out of the whirlpool in a rain of water, splashing the deck, the water streaming behind them as they corkscrew up into the air.

The sea follows them, a great wave surging up as the whirlpool sloshes, collapsing. Our barge lurches backward, hitting the one behind us, cries and curses ensuing.

As I cling to that merciful ledge, and as Arkin grabs me again, making sure I don’t slide away, one thought keeps playing overand over in my mind, twining around the daze and awe like a snake.

Athdara is powerful. And if his madness gets the work done… then it’s small wonder the king keeps him around.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Cradling my arm to my chest, I stand and watch the drak circle back over the convoy. I’m still startled every time I see a drak from up close. The body may have the size of a horse, but the wingspan is at least two times that on either side, and their reptilian faces are like those in nightmares. As for their crests…fun.

If I wasn’t still reeling over almost losing my grip and going overboard mere moments ago, I’d enjoy seeing the drak hover over our barge, the finer, dark gray scales on its belly shimmering with an oily sheen.

But I can’t help but watch as the handsome dragon speaker fae jumps off the drak’s back and lands in a crouch on the deck, the impact rocking the barge.

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