Page 28 of Heir of Autumn
No. I had to be stronger than that. I had to become the summoner I always dreamed of. My version of a grand summoner, not what Father wanted me to be. Iron will. Iron stomach. The air screamed in my ears as we descended faster and faster, my hair whipping at my face. I shut my eyes and focused inward.
Grand Summoner Dorian would have bellowed in laughter over the battlefield, further intimidating his enemies as his voice joined the deafening roars of his dragons. Grand Summoner Celestina would hold her poise as she was lifted by her angels, as radiant as a religious icon, inspiring her allies with her beauty and presence.
“Don’t throw up,” I told myself, a careful mantra. “Don’t throw up.”
It would be the least stylish way to greet my familiar and my eidolon, one of my most majestic moments in life so far ruined by harpy-induced air sickness. I opened my eyes as we drew ever closer, expecting to see Sylvain lying weakly on the little deck of his little boat, dehydrated and beaten by the sun.
Not even close. He was sitting with his legs spread out, hands planted to either side, sunning himself. And next to him was Satchel, doing very much the same, basking like a baby lizard. All this time I’d been worrying about these jerks, and there they were, sunbathing.
I didn’t even know where they got the matching sunglasses.
“Are you serious?” I cried out, our landing so graceful that I hardly noticed when the harpy deposited me onto the deck. “I was chewing my fingers off worrying about you two weirdos, and you were just here doing what you do on our bedchamber balcony anyway?”
Sylvain sprang to his feet and rushed me, practically tackling me as he wrapped me up in a tight embrace. “Gods above and below, Lochlann. I’ve been worried sick.”
“Oh,” I breathed. Guilt twisted in my chest. They were worrying, waiting. What else could they have done? I hugged him back, then pulled away to study his face and stroke his hair. Sylvain removed his sunglasses. My heart clenched. His eyes were cloudy, rimmed red.
“You were fine,” Sylvain said. “At least according to Satchel. He could sense that your essence was depleted, but he knew you were alive. Didn’t stop me from worrying, though.”
“No point in worrying twice, right?” Satchel said, flitting up to greet me with a pat on the cheek. “Kind of sucked feeling all stuck and helpless out here, but I did like you asked. Sorry I couldn’t help more.”
“You did great,” I said, smiling. “You both did. I’m so glad you boys are okay.”
Sylvain gripped my hand tight, saying it all with a single touch. I squeezed back, content enough to know that we were all safe. For now, at least.
“We must depart,” the harpy said.
Satchel whipped off his sunglasses and gawked at the harpy. “You can talk?”
The harpy rolled his eyes. “Yes. I am capable of speech. And I do have a name, you know.”
“Right, right,” I said, fingers kneading my forehead. “Because I never asked. Okay. I’m sorry. What is your name?”
“Frederick.”
“R-right.” I didn’t tell him I was expecting something badass like Windscar, or Talonrake. Hey, Frederick was perfectly cool, too. Frederick the harpy.
“Well met, friend Frederick,” Sylvain said, shaking the harpy’s hand like he was a new boating buddy at a yacht club.
I looked around, surveying as thoroughly as I could, my hand shielding my eyes from the sun. “And the kraken? I was sure it would have caught up by now.”
Sylvain shrugged. “It might have gotten bored of following us. Satchel and I were saving our energies, just in case.”
“We must depart,” Frederick repeated. “And my insistence has everything to do with this kraken of yours.”
He pointed at a spot in the water, the surge and ripple so subtle among the waves. My stomach tumbled.
“Oh, crap. Quick. Frederick, I don’t suppose you could fly all three of us back to — ”
“Stand clear,” he boomed, assuming his position at the prow. Frederick placed one foot forward, inhaled deeply, and voiced an almighty cry that should have parted the sea.
“Very impressive.” Satchel flitted onto my shoulder. “But I don’t quite see what that was supposed to do.”
He spoke too soon. Something in the distance rumbled, a thundering from far behind us. I glanced over my shoulder, my stomach swooping. A powerful wind rushed toward the boat, tearing at the surface of the ocean as it approached. Strange shapes wavered from within the howling, advancing wall of air.
Birds, humanoid figures, feathers, wings, all blending together, bending in and out of focus, like ghosts. Was this a form of Frederick’s wind magic, or had he called on the spirits of his own people, maybe even summoned sylphs, the elementals creatures of air?
I opened my mouth to ask, but the eldritch wind struck the boat first. Three voices yowled together in surprise, only Frederick showing any semblance of composure. Satchel held on to a handful of my shirt, a lock of my hair. Sylvain held on to me.
