Page 99 of Flame and Sparrow

He smiled mockingly at my bold words, his eyes flashing toward the weapon I’d picked up. “The sword you hold is Hydrus,” Kelas said. “Forged by the sea itself, and it can be as powerful and as beautiful as that sea, or else treacherous to the one attempting to tame it… It all depends upon the wielder and their skill.”

I swallowed down the lump trying to build in my throat.

Brightly, brightly, brightly.

“And what am I supposed to do with it?” I asked.

His smile was wider this time, the flash of white like a quick glint of fish-scales in dark water. “It’s simple: You only have to reach the fortress.” He motioned toward the island at the end of the rocky causeway. “Beat the rising tide.” Another flourish of his hand lifted the waves around the path, making them hover threateningly for several seconds before sending them crashing over the rocks. “And soothe the ocean-forged beast within the fortress’s walls. The sword is merely a tool to help you on your way.”

None of that sounds simple at all, I wanted to say.

Instead, I gripped the sword as if I’d always been its keeper—as if I knew exactly what to do with it—and I lifted my eyes to the goal awaiting me.

The space between the fortress and where I stood seemed much greater, all of a sudden.

“You accept the terms of this trial?”

‘No’ didn’t seem like an option at this point, so I caught the bits of my courage that were trying desperately to flee, and I nodded.

“Then let us begin.”

As he uttered the last syllable, it had already begun, the water around my feet already rising rapidly past my ankles.

I wiggled free of the sinking sand beneath my boots and sprinted for the higher, bridge-like trail of rocks leading to the distant island.

As my feet pounded onto the first stretch of the narrow path, the waves on either side of it began to churn, white foam gathering and bubbling in a way that felt threatening—like it could erupt and suffocate me, sink me back into the cold depths at any moment.

I didn’t waste any effort wondering how long I had to beat the rising tide. I had a sneaking suspicion there was no rhyme or reason to its coming and going; the God of the Ocean seemed wilder, more chaotic than the Star Goddess, as if the tide would rise and fall at his command and nothing else.

Sword in hand, I leapt from rock to rock at a borderline reckless pace.

But no matter how fast I ran, the island and its fortress didn’t seem to get any closer. I wondered if this could be some sort of trick. If the island was nothing more than a mirage—a goal that couldn’t truly be reached.

Despair threatened at this last thought, so I stopped looking up for several minutes, focusing on the path itself rather than the destination. I would concern myself only with the few feet in front of me at any given moment.

Step by step, and I can make the whole journey this way.

I kept reminding myself of this as I stumbled and slipped and sprinted onward, onward, onward.

After several minutes, I felt as if I was making good time, and I lifted my gaze to check on my actual progress.

Something leapt out of the water behind me.

I slowed and twisted around. There was nothing there, but as I returned to the path ahead, I heard something in the water to my right.

The sea rose abruptly and violently, shooting toward me as if fired from a cannon, knocking me off my feet and nearly sending me into the water on the other side—water that appeared much darker than it had near the shore.

Much deeper.

I managed to grab a thin slab of stone at the last instant, clinging to it with one hand while the other desperately gripped my sword.

I was not a particularly strong swimmer. I’d never liked spending time in the water; there were too many unknowns, too few maps I could study of the deep depths of our realms. Those depths were one of the few places I would have been fine leaving to my imagination—and I certainly didn’t want to explore the ones below me now.

More water rushed across my path, directly into my face. I coughed and sputtered, my grip on the rock faltering.

I slipped. Caught myself once more. Panic made me otherworldly strong for an instant, allowing me to hoist myself clumsily back onto the path.

The water continued to wash over me. It felt strange as it lapped against my body—sharp and tickling, like rats nibbling at the edges of me. As I caught my breath, I looked closer and realized I wasn’t far off with my assessment.

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