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“Mack, I’m going to ask you to do something that seems, well, suicidal.” Voices ring behind us, along with the bellow of an orc. We need to hurry. “But I promise, I’ll explain it all later, okay?”
She nods.
“We’re going to make the griffins carry us over the fires.” Ignoring her alarmed scoff, I press on. “We need a rope and a dagger each. Once your griffin grabs you, tie the rope to its ankle. When we’re over the water, we cut the ropes. Got it?”
To her credit, she only gapes at me for a few seconds. “How do we make them drop us over the water?”
“Just . . . trust me.”
She nods, if a bit tensely, and we grab our supplies and leap into the Summer Court portal.
The burning savannah is an endless swath of knee-high grasses that stretch across the gently rolling landscape. Smoke engulfs much of the air, and flames move across the hills at will.
What I think at first are sparks are actually fire sprites dancing above the inferno.
Mack checks the map. “There’s a body of water near the portal.”
“Any landmarks you can give me?” I ask.
She squints. “Looks like . . . an island in the middle.”
She shows me the image. Once I’m sure I have it committed to memory, I nod to the long rope coiled in her hand.
“This better work,” she whispers, quickly tying it around her waist.
Once my own rope is cinched around my stomach, I put my hands to my mouth. Mack looks at me funny as I perform the rabbit call, a trick learned hunting in the woods by our house.
Almost immediately, two shadows sweep across the burning grassland toward us.
Mack’s eyes squeeze shut. “Titania save us.”
I clench my dagger between my teeth, grab hold of my rope, and try not to panic as the sound of their huge wings pummeling the air grows louder.
A shadow falls over us. Mack shrieks as the first griffin grabs her by the shoulders and jerks her into the air. A half second later, my griffin strikes. Its claws catch in my uniform as it drags me into the sky like I weigh nothing.
The feel of the ground hurtling away from me is terrifying. My stomach flip-flops all over the place.
The creature’s wings buffer the wind around my head, making it hard to hear Mack’s yells.
Quickly, I knot the end of my rope to the griffin’s leathery black ankle. Just in case the griffin isn’t open to my newly discovered powers of gab and would rather just eat me.
When the knot is cinched tight, my griffin turns its head down to look at me.
Good little griffin, I mentally coo, wondering if this is quite possibly the craziest thing I’ve ever done.
Mack’s griffin flies to my left. Her eyes are huge as she secures her rope in between bouts of screaming. Thank the Shimmer, her dagger is secured in her pocket.
I’ve barely begun sending the creatures images of the pond near the portal before they veer hard to the left. Mack squeals, legs kicking.
I just now recall how she might have once admitted to being afraid of heights. Oops.
Do not drop us, I mentally order, willing both creatures to hear me. Not yet.
Dagger still between my teeth, I grasp the rope holding me to my griffin. All my focus goes to sending the griffins the mental image of the pond. The ground below us grows smaller, blurrier. The dark smoke and bright red of the fires melding into the canvas of green.
“Summer!” Mack cries. “Look below!”
The pond shimmers beneath us. I give a triumphant yell.
