Page 34 of Fate Promised
Triska nodded and looked toward shore.
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Triska’s stomach lurched. A mist hung in the air, trailing web-like threads of moisture across her face. From a distance, the island appeared dark and wreathed in shadows. As they’d drawn closer, the reason appeared. Unlike the sugary sands of Ryba that rose and fell in sweeping dunes, the island’s sand was black and compact, casting a pall across the landscape.
Trees loomed ahead of them. Moss coated their trunks and branches, making them look like tall green hairy people with too many limbs. A small boat, similar to her own skiff but made of a wood she didn’t recognize, lay lashed to a mooring. She gestured toward it. “Someone is around.”
Juri put his arm around her. “Could necromancers have sailed here last night?”
She shook her head. “The swells topped ten feet. They’d overtake a small boat like that easily.”
“That’s what I thought.”
The serpent launched itself onto shore, shaking out its scales. It lumbered along the beach, tripped on a boulder coated in moss, and fell flat on its face. It scrambled back up, its tail drooping as if embarrassed. “You know about sea dragons?”
He tucked her under his arm, and she snuggled closer. Exactly how she’d always leaned against him when they were kids. “Have you heard the tale of the Argonauts and the sea dragon?”
She shook her head.
His eyes crinkled in the subtle way she’d already learned meant he was happy. He was quick with a grin, but when he was truly happy, it shone through his eyes. His beautiful, golden eyes. “That story is all about a sea dragon destroying a boat. I’ll tell you tonight.”
Strange bird calls punctuated the air with long wailing notes. Despite being wet, the air was not chilly, and she shoved the sleeves of her sweater up to her elbows.
Fergal shuffled to their side. “Well, let’s see what that creature did to my boat.”
He bent over to study the damage to the hull and pointed at a long white tooth impaled in the wood on the deck. “Apparently, he’s teething and decided my boat was a good toy. All right, let’s get off.” Fergal easily leaped off the side of the boat into the waist-deep water. She shook her head. The magicwielder may have white hair, but he defied all attempts to guess his age.
Triska glanced back at the dragon, who’d turned its head toward the woods as if it heard something. “Will the zmey bother us?”
Juri jumped down into the water and reached for Triska. “Nah, he’s just a wee beastie, I’ll make sure he stays in line. Besides, they can’t move well on land. And all the stories about them are about them attacking boats, not people.” He gestured towards the damage to the hull. “They must have a thing for them.”
She bent, removed her boots, and rolled her pant legs up. When she swung her leg over the side, Juri asked, “Do you want me to carry you to shore?”
“It’s warm here, I don’t mind wading.”
She held her boots in one hand as he plucked her from the deck. He didn’t lower her into the water—only knee high on him—but held her for a moment. “Are you sure? I don’t mind carrying you.” His gaze had drifted down to her bare calves, and his throat flexed as he swallowed. “I wouldn’t want a crab to go after your feet.”
Her free hand skated over his chest. “Mm … I’m in the water all the time, and so far, that has never happened.”
“Hurry, you two. Stop canoodling,” Fergal called from the beach.
“Canoodling?” Triska said. “How many ancient terms is he going to use today? And why do I feel like I’m back in school getting in trouble?” She smiled.
“If I were canoodling, I’d be doing much more than holding you.” His lip curled into a half smile. He slowly dropped Triska into the water, and let go.
The water in Ryba bay never got this warm, even in late summer. It wasn’t like bathwater, but it was comfortable enough to swim in without catching a chill, even with the suns barely peeking through the mist. Juri took her boots, and the two of them waded through the warm water toward shore.
A high-pitched unearthly shriek rang through the air.
Juri crouched, his claws coming out, and tucked her against him. “Quick, put your boots back on.” She tugged them on in quick yanks. “Come on.” He hurried her toward the shore.
“What is it?”
“That’s a harpy’s cry.” His eyes flashed red as his head went up, scanning the sky.
On the beach, the dragon scrambled toward the forest and started down a wooden path. It glanced over its shoulder and yowled at them as if beckoning them to follow its bulk along the narrow road.
“It’ll be safer if we get under the trees,” Juri said, hurrying her. Underfoot, the wooden walkway vibrated and flexed with each of the dragon’s steps as it crashed along. Squat plants, built like fat-bottomed vases, stood a few feet tall and lined the path. Their variegated spiky leaves were a dark green and lemony yellow. Juri batted them away before they brushed against her.