Page 3 of I Summon the Sea

Winged, fanged monsters swooping down from above? Most certainly.

How aboutlumina, the wicked lesser fairies lurking in remote places such as this to attack and torment? Oh, yes.

A human-looking girl standing inside a sinking boat? Not so much.

As the barge glides closer, I hold myself still, playing my role of a helpless damsel in distress to the full, giving it my all.

More guards have gathered behind the two who noticed me. The amulet in the redhead’s hand glints in the light from the firmament, even as dusk descends. The silver talisman is wrought in the shape of a dragon head, the fanged mouth leering at me, set between two spread wings. Dragons and wings, the favorite symbols of the fae.

I can almost feel the slight vibration of the dragonbone shard inside, a barely contained power that resonates with the Pillar and the entire world.

So I still myself more, turning into a living statue. I even hold my breath. My lungs burn from the lack of air, but this is important.

This is the first test.

The redhead guard leans over the side of the barge, lowering the silver talisman toward me. If it senses magic in me, any kind of power, it will shake violently, answering the call of magic.

Somewhere overhead, the winged shadow of a drak, one of the common dragonkind, glides by.

The shiny talisman hangs over the water, suspended between the barge and myself, still and inert, hovering like a metallicdragonfly. But as the moments stretch into time, nothing seems to happen. The dragonbone doesn’t react to me.

Relief crosses the red-haired fae’s features. His mouth twitches in a faint smile as he lowers the dragonbone amulet. “No magic.”

“No magic!” his blond friend calls out, turning to the guards behind him, and they begin to disperse.

Not all of them, though. Some still linger, shiny helmets and tall spears, faces tight with curiosity. Staring down at me.

The show isn’t over yet.

Let them watch. I lift both my hands now, water dripping from my lacy sleeves.Let me join you, I gesture.Please.

“She wants to come onto the barge. What shall we do?” The redhead’s smile fades. His frown is visible from where I’m standing. The boat under my feet sinks a little bit more into the murk.

The blond fae taps the gunwale. The barge is still moving, but it has slowed almost to a halt. “She’s wounded.”

That’s right. Lowering my eyes, I gesture at the barely scabbed-over gashes on my shins, visible through the rends in the sodden white silk of my dress. Here and there, the lace has turned brown with crusted blood.

“You’re right, she’s hurt,” the other one says. “Why isn’t she speaking? Can’t you speak, human? Can you hear us?”

I nod emphatically. Tap one of my ears through my hair. Sure, I can hear them just fine. It’s the speaking that’s broken.

“Look at the blue symbol painted on her neck,” he goes on. “She’s pledged to Anafia, the goddess of silence, for the festival.”

Yes, well spotted. Close enough. Good work.

“That’s why she won’t speak,” the blond mutters. “Holy Anafia. Of course.”

Anafia is the silent goddess of swamps and ghosts. Which is fitting. In our pantheon, she is considered a minor deity, butthat’s mostly because when the fae arrived, they took over our temples and forced their gods on us. Gods of the earth and air, their elements.

Humans used to worship the water and the flames before their arrival.

“Anafia, huh?” The blond still sounds skeptical. “Haven’t met a believer in ages.”

“It’s more common at the coast,” the redhead says. “As you might imagine.”

“You say that as if I haven’t been to the coast before.”

And still, they don’t offer to take me along, falling into an easy banter that marks them as old friends.

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