Page 36 of I Summon the Sea

The temple.

Lit up with torches, a crowd standing at its gates, it echoes with a low chant that burrows into my bones.

Magic.

I’m not surprised to see the priest officiating is a telchin, just like Arkin or Tru said the other day. He’s a sorcerer, a peculiar being with the appearance of a human man, tasked with guarding the liminal passages between worlds. Clad in long white robes, he’s tall and muscular, with long gray hair and beard. The air pulsing around him is the only indication he’s not a mortal.

A different crowd is gathered across the strait, on the Sea Palace Island: the fae highborn. The glimpses I caught of them on their tall boats didn’t do them justice. Dressed in shades of yellow silk and satin to honor the king, crowned with headdresses glowing with gold and gems, they look like a field of precious marigolds blooming against the palace.

They are standing on the large terrace, close to the edge, as if they have no fear of everything that’s lurking in the sea.

But now I know why. The telchin’s power protects them.

Telchins are ancient beings. They don’t seem to age, and they all look the same. It’s very… disconcerting. This one looks just like the telchin I remember once visiting our local temple when I was a child, a very long time ago.

As I watch, he lifts his hands, a ponderous gesture, and the chanting stops.

To our left are the islets surrounding the arena, a small tower on each one of them like a beacon, probably where the fires burned last night. I can’t see anything but water inside the arena. Are they just going to throw everyone into the sea?

That would be a Death Game, for sure, but it would be too simple for such a high-brow gathering. The fae are a brutal military race, and yet…

“Now, be still,” Tru says, still gripping me hard. “Don’t move from the spot. The ceremony is starting. You can pay your respects inside the Temple afterward, and I’ll make sure you get on a boat later.”

Damn.It’s not his fault; he doesn’t know why I’m here, but now I have to factor him in my plans. I’ll have to escape his steel hold, while also deciding how to insert myself into the games.

A few feet away, I make out Arkin and Neere, as well as the female guard who hated my guts, and a few others I saw on the first barge.

“Honored be the graceful dead of every world.” The telchin’s voice booms, shaking us all. “The heroes and heroines of old, those who crossed the gates to save others, selfless and brave. King Marsyas, Queen Persephona, King Aides, Queen Elleora, your names are remembered.”

Then the telchin points up, and a bright light streaks across the sky. I catch my breath. Is it an Eosphor? They fall sometimes, or so I was told. The enormous winged beings, so alien, made of metal and gems, sometimes lose their grip on the firmament and crash to the ground, their pieces scattering.

But how could the telchin time it so perfectly, or cause its fall?

It can’t be an Eosphor, I decide, as more lights streak across the firmament. Dawn has long broken, but as the glowing orbs fall into the sea, it’s like another daybreak.

Just magic. Illusions and delusions.

The crowds cheer.

The streaking lights illuminate the palace, dropping around it like tears, and on the top balcony, I think I see a lone figure with a golden crown tall like a tower, mirroring every flash and flare.

The fae king?

Nice light show.I shift on my bare feet, antsy as it ends. It annoys me somehow that it’s all an empty act to amuse the aristocracy. Using such power for trinkets, for nonsense.

Hurting and killing people like it means nothing. Like it’s all a little game to pass the time.

“Athdara!” the telchin roars then, and Athdara steps forward, as if appearing out of thin air. “Welcome back to the Nightgold Court.”

I stare at the dragon speaker, like everyone else, and my breath catches again. Why does my breath catch every time I see him? Such a seductive man, a pretty vessel full of power and malice.

“My friends call me Jai.”

“Our champion has done well,” the telchin says. “The convoy has arrived safely. The gods will be pleased to receive this offering. Twenty-four sacrifices this year!” The fae crowd roars. “To celebrate three hundred years since the last Reversal and the passage of the fae through the dark gates into this world, to conquer and adapt, to bespell and make this world theirs.”

I turn my gaze to the telchin, who still looks like he’s beckoning at Athdara, even though the dark-haired fae man is standing right in front of him, only a few paces away.

This isn’t how priests talk, I think. They are always cryptic, and their speeches disjointed as they look back and forth into time, as they see through the Nine Worlds and behind the veil of fate. This telchin speaks like any one of us would, like one of the fae would, praising campaigns and invasions, praising the conquerors. He’s yet another playing in the fae king’s hands, furthering his strategy, and echoing his philosophy.

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