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“What?” he asked, his voice jarring. The corners of my mouth tugged at the sound of his apprehension.
“The temple isn’t on this beach, Az. It’s out there,” I pointed across the waves and towards a dark horizon, letting my gaze fall far away to survey the distance. “You can’t fly in this windstorm, so we’ll just have to cross the sea the mortal way. Now, help me push.” I approached the stern with certainty, excited to manage the sea for the first time. Az was less enthused. “What’s the matter? Has the fearless watcher turned into a chicken?” I asked, grasping the curved rear of the boat.
His hesitation turned into a glare. “I can’t swim.”
My eyebrows rose half an inch. “You’ve been around for centuries, and you never learned to swim?”
“I’ve never needed to,” he snapped, clearly not enjoying being the subject of scrutiny. He joined me at my side and placed his hands above mine on the stern. “Water and wings don’t mix well. I assume you can, mighty huntress?”
“Aye, it was great for cross training. The mountain was home to a few hidden pools arising from the natural springs. We could condition while giving our joints a break from the constant pounding. It’s actually really nice. I think you’d enjoy it,” I replied through gritted teeth. “Perhaps I can teach you on a clearer night when the Dark Army isn’t on our tails?”
He peered down and offered a smile, warming every chill in my body. “I’d like that.”
I nodded with a tight jerk of my chin, feeling my breath catch in my chest, and turned my attention back to the boat. My hands gripped the sandy wood, slippery from the mist created by the waves, and heaved against the friction dragging the hull in resistance. Azriel joined my efforts, and with his strength, we easily pushed the small vessel from its hundred-year settlement in the sand and into the creeping edge of the restless waves.
“Get in, grab the oar, and row as hard as you can when you feel it hit the waves. I’m going to wait for a smaller crest to push the rest of the way, but we have to keep pushing to get past the outer reef, or we’ll just get beached.” he commanded above me. I nodded and followed his orders, pulling myself over the side of the port and into the slick, grimy interior of the boat. I snapped the double oar free of its nook in the vessel’s innermost side and dug my heals into any crevice in the floor. My body crouched, sitting slightly in the seat but still posed to take on the power of the sea and its might.
Azriel began pushing again, sliding the dinghy across the wet beach to trail a small swell. The rough graze of the sand against the hull turned smooth beneath my feet as it met open water for the first time in a century. The lurch of the boat from the waves pushing against the bow sent a force through the hull that knocked me backwards against the seat, and the awkward weight of the oar sent me staggering as I struggled to stay upright.
I glanced over at Azriel, who was now knee-deep in the water with the waves skimming the bottom of his wings. Corded muscle rippled with tension as he heaved the weight of the boat unassisted—not like I was helping much in the first place. Icy waters kissed his feathers with every lap, every surge threatening to soak them completely, until he was practically waist-deep and far from the coast. His body lifted gracefully out of the water and into the seat behind me, where he snatched the opposite oar and thrust it into the black surf surrounding us.
“Arya, row!” he bellowed as he pushed off the shallows with his own paddle.
I startled out of my daydream of thoroughly enjoying the view of the soaking wet male and the violent gust combing through his bleached hair. Instead, I turned around and faced the horizon, awkwardly thrusting my own oar into the water to assist my winged sea captain.
“I don’t know what I’m doing!” I shouted over my shoulder, wishing he had given me more detailed instructions as to how exactly I was supposed to row effectively.
“You’re doing beautifully,” he replied through clenched teeth, gasping between his forceful thrusts to compensate for my poor rowing skills. “Just maybe a little faster.”
I picked up my pace, doing my very best to fight the waves and keep my body upright. My ankle throbbed at the constant straining to stabilize my legs, but I kept my focus on the horizon and pushed through the temporary pain towards the certain promise of reward. Once we passed the outer reef, the pull of the tide dragging us back to the beach started to lessen, and the only fight we had now waged against the size of the waves themselves.
“How far off the coast is the isle?” Azriel asked behind me, his breaths already panting at my back.
I checked the compass in my glove, saltwater condensed on the inner glass and fogged the inside pane, but it was clear enough to make out our direction. “Not far, a few miles at the most. We need to head a little more southeast, though.”
The dinghy was not a suitable size for the massive swells surrounding us. I did my best to help Azriel row, but my efforts were futile. The boat lurched as we hit a wave head-on, and I stumbled to the side, one hand gripping the oar while the other flailed for something stable to hold on to. My hand caught air, my face found the hull, and stars clouded my vision as my jaw slammed into my skull. Metal coated my tongue as I sliced the inside of my cheek on my teeth, and blood pooled, along with the last bit of my dignity. I clutched the side of the vessel and spat—coloring the floor at my feet crimson.
“Still have all your teeth, darling?” Azriel shouted above the salt spray.
I ran my tender tongue along the copper coated edges and nodded, flinching at the added discomfort. His hand wrapped around my upper arm and tugged me in front of him. The angle of the stern forced me to sit between his legs, but I didn’t mind in the slightest. It was much easier to handle the rock of the boat with his bodyweight anchoring me down. We fought the coarse wind in our face and the blinding spray of the sea for what seemed like hours, but any length of time was exaggerated when you were as miserable as we were.
Just when I thought I couldn’t handle it any longer, a shape formed against the darkness. The moonlight sent a glow bright enough that we could see a tower jutting out from the sea—a beacon of reprieve. It was our fortress from the waves dawning closer with every thrust of our paddles. Azriel seemed to notice as well, judging by the newfound strength in his strokes, and we pressed on through the dark waves towards the ocean asylum.
But as we neared the isle’s edge, everything seemed to settle. A supernatural force calmed the wind and stilled the waves, as if giving up its fight against us. The gust turned into a gentle breeze, and the heaves of the boat relaxed into little more than a sway.
“Something isn’t right,” I whispered. The trembling in my body was exacerbated by the sting of frigid water and the sudden stillness. I wiped a numb hand over my face, pushing away wet strands stuck to my cheeks. Even Azriel’s usual heat was turned to ice against my back.
“I agree. It must be the leylines. I can feel the thrum of their power like a pulsing vein in the air,” he said. I tilted my head to look at him, noticing his lush lips had turned a slight blue. He paddled on slowly, minding my head as he stroked the water carefully. “Something sacred lies here, something as old as the gods themselves. I think we’ve just crossed over into a wyrd.”
“A what?” The hair on my arms stood on end, and not from the chill.
“A wyrd is a place connecting realms. It’s where the gods would travel between worlds and time.”
“Like a divine crossroads?”
“Aye, exactly. It makes sense the leystones are stored here; they could have used their power to transport to other realms, other moments in time.”
I blew a sharp breath. “If they could travel through time, why didn’t they just go back to a time before Adzehate and stop her before she began her reign of terror?” Things always seemed so simply handled through a godlike perspective.
