Chapter 9
Trystan’s eyelids drooped as his head fell forward. He jerked his head up and blinked, scrubbing a hand over his face, trying to stay awake. After two hours at a steady pace, his horse had slowed, almost drifting aimlessly. He felt no closer to finding the lake or old willow from his dream and a part of him wished he hadn’t left so abruptly.
The rain had dissipated, leaving a cool, heavy mist in the air. His eyes closed again, sleep threatening to take him.
Trystan, it’s time to remember who you are.
A gray haze surrounded him, or perchance it was his eyes because he couldn’t focus. Beyond the haze, a lake appeared, its water clean. Refreshing. Welcoming.
His mouth and throat dry, the urge to drink from the lake overtook him.
Trystan dismounted and approached the edge of the water. He knelt down, preparing to scoop a drink of water into his hands. His reflection on the glassy surface morphed into that of the woman he had seen many times in a dream.Mother?
As he touched his face, his hands touched the face in the watery image as if it were his own. Trystan reached down to touch the water in an attempt to disturb the reflection.
His fingertips grazed the surface. The woman’s face vanished, and a ghostly reflection appeared. Trystan’s stomach twisted in knots as terror welled up inside him. He tried to move away but couldn’t. His knees and hands sank slowly into the damp sand. Withered brown vines from below the surface rose up out of the water. As if they were alive, they wrapped themselves around his arms and began to pull him into the water.
Trystan panicked as he tried to yell for help, but nothing came out. He struggled to free himself from the deadly vines, but they only squeezed him tighter. He dug his knees deeper into the sand, but the vines continued to pull, overpowering him. Again, Trystan yelled, this time finding his voice just before being pulled into the water.
The vines dragged him deeper into the murky depths, and Trystan held his breath and fought against thorny tendrils, but as the surface faded from view, hopelessness set in. No one knew where to find him. He was going to drown in the muddy waters and he had only himself to blame.
***
A terrified yell for help echoed in the distance. Marc knew the voice instantly. He kicked the Wynford into a faster gallop in the direction of Trystan’s scream. Cresting a small, grassy knoll, a secluded lake came into view, mist floating over it almost like steam. A lone, barren willow rooted nearby, its gnarled limbs twisting outward, sent a coarse shiver through Marc’s bones.
“Trystan!” Marc yelled, dismounting his horse. He ran toward the lake, searching.
Air bubbled on the lake’s surface.
Marc’s heart raced. He yanked off his boots, but before he could dive in, the surface near the water’s edge crackled and began to thicken. It turned white and solidified into ice. His eyes widened and stomach dropped. The surface continued to harden, spreading across the entire lake, working its way toward the center. Within seconds, the entire surface froze solid.
A man cackled behind him.
Marc turned to see the foul creature he thought he had killed in the forest just days earlier. The one Emrys had warned him about.
The revolting shadow of a man slinked near the ancient tree, his olive brown skin greasy and dirty. His disheveled brown hair fell past his scrawny shoulders. With inky black eyes, soulless in their depths, the monster stared up at Marc, undaunted.
“I warned you what would happen if you didn’t stay away from him. I tried to warn him too, but neither of you listened to me.” The creature laughed sinisterly.
“I’ll deal with you later, Riddari.” Marc turned to study the lake.
Grønn taunted the Prince. “You’ll never save him now.”
Marc ignored him. He needed to think quickly if he was going to save Trystan from a watery tomb. Pulling his sword from its sheath, he ran barefoot out onto the ice to a point where the water was a few feet deep. Using the hilt of his sword, he chipped away at the ice, making an opening just large enough for him to squeeze through.
He took a deep breath and jumped into the water, expecting an icy cold, but the water was only cool. The surface of the lake refroze above him, sealing him within. The strange occurrence puzzled Marc, but he didn’t have time to think about it. He needed to figure out how to free Trystan and get them both to safety.
Trystan saw a dark form plunge into the water. Somehow, he knew it was Marc, and the terror inside quelled a little. His mind strayed, a dizziness consuming him.
Marc swam toward where he’d seen bubbles on the surface. As he neared the area, an erratic current pushed at him. Blindly, Marc reached into the darkness. His hand found clothes and he grabbed hold, pulling himself closer.
Trystan’s strength and struggle against the vines waned, but Marc was here. He’d found him, and soon, Marc would free him and they’d be safe again on land.
Marc attempted to cut the vines away, but the more he cut, the more that grew and wrapped around Trystan. He couldn’t see Trystan’s face, but he could feel the intense fear in the way he moved, desperate to be free. Marc pulled against the vines, but they held firm. His breath would run out soon, as would Trystan’s. There had to be another way.
Marc swam away, and Trystan feared the worst. The water stilled around him. Marc had left him in the murky waters. Alone.
Trystan’s lungs burned, his chest on fire. His oxygen ran out. He sucked in water. His body convulsed. Darkness closed in around him.
