Page 109 of Vale of Dreams

Ysolde sits in the back of the wooden boat, one with two benches and oars. We push our boat into the water, and I take the back bench.

At the start, the river doesn’t seem rough, but within minutes, the water churns around us, the current sweeping us faster and faster. As we move, silky magic washes over my skin. I glance at Ysolde and see that her eyes are nearly shut, and her body is tense with concentration. She’s pushing the current, giving us speed, and the water pulls us along much faster than I thought possible. Snow-dusted trees and rolling hills flash by, and droplets of water splash on my face as we accelerate. The water churns, nearly ripping one of the oars from my hands. I pull them into the boat, and Raphael does the same.

Ysolde doesn’t need our help. As she takes control over the river, I curl into the damp bottom of the rocking boat and drift into the land of sleep.

“Nia!”

My eyes snap open, panic enveloping me as I struggle to understand where I am and what the fuck I’m doing. The world is rocking violently around me, and I’m shivering with cold, drenched with wintry river water.

Oh, right.

Blinking, I sit up, the boat wobbling.

The water around us is white, frothing with fury against jagged rocks. I look ahead, and we’re hurtling toward an evil-looking boulder with alarming speed. I let out a yell as we veer to the left, missing the huge rock by a fraction of an inch.

Raphael is frantically rowing. I glance at Ysolde. Her eyes are rolling in their sockets, her lips moving without a sound, an aura of static magical power emanating from her.

“I’ve been calling you over and over!” Raphael shouts over the churn of the water. “Grab your oars.”

Crawling back onto the bench, I snatch my oars from the bottom of the boat, the cobwebs of sleep still clouding my mind.

“Push us away from incoming rocks!” Raphael shouts. “Be on the lookout for more.”

Up ahead, jagged rocks rise from the water like enormous broken teeth. I sink my oar in the water, turning us to the right. The current shifts and aligns itself with my oar, helping us along. The boat dodges, but not fast enough. We won’t be able to escape both of the rocks.

“Aim for that large gap between them!” I shout back.

I paddle like a madwoman. The water rises sharply around us as Ysolde’s magic transforms the river into long, straight waves by our sides, a magical funnel that helps to steer us. Working together, we manage to push the boat at the gap, but I quickly realize we won’t fit through.

“Fuck!” I shout, as a terrible scraping sound fills my ears.

The boat shudders, then shoots through the rocks, splintered on the right side where it hit the rock. I frantically check the bottom of the boat for holes, but it looks fine. The hole, at least, is high enough that it won’t sink us.

“We’re fine, we’re fine, we’re fine,” I mutter to myself.

When I look up, I see more rocks, and the river whorls around us. The air above the river spray shimmers with magic.

“Is that Ysolde’s magic?” I ask.

“The land is reacting to the Fey army,” Raphael shouts. “Ancient magic is now stirring, magic that has been dormant for centuries.”

The river grows wilder.

My heart is still in my throat, my breathing ragged from effort. We’ve been struggling with the rocks for nearly an hour while all around us, the rapids roar. I grip the oars tight as I try to help steer. Battered by the current, we struggle to keep control.

Arrows pierce the water around us, and my heart skips a beat.

I look up to see Fey riders on horseback. They’re gaining on us, galloping along the bank, their horses kicking up mud by the riverside.

“Archers!” I scream.

They loose more arrows at us.

These archers are fucking fast, and they’re gaining on us.

An arrow thunks into our boat, the tip deeply embedded in the stern.

As I duck, another arrow whistles just above my head. Three more fly behind me, one of them cluttering into the wood.

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