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ONE morning after breakfast, Bern and I headed out to a nearby lake, Obli the collie accompanying us. Paring knives and half-finished wooden boomerangs hanging off our waists, we sprinted off in our least expensive clothes to meet up with Wolfe, a playmate who’d been teaching us how to whittle boomerangs. Wolfe was our little gang’s unofficial leader and three years older than us.
Water lapped gently at the shore. Eisberk’s autumns passed quickly, and dying leaves floated on the lake’s surface, forming a brocade. I plopped down on the ground and began shaving strips of wood from the boomerang with my knife, Wolfe anxiously observing my shoddy technique. Frustrating as it was to admit, it seemed using a toy and making one were two entirely different beasts.
I was getting there though, with only a few final adjustments left to go.
We threw, then shaved. Threw, then shaved, over and over. The other kids were just as serious about their work as I. After achieving our desired flight trajectories, we polished our boomerangs and applied finishing touches.
Looks good. I should polish it a little more and apply oil, but that can wait.
Boomerangs started flying through the air once more, and even Obli joined in on the fun, chasing after the projectiles.
Suddenly, a kerplunk echoed through the air, followed by a series of ripples spreading across the lake.
“Awwww,” the children exclaimed.
I’d thrown my boomerang with too much force, and it had landed in the lake, far out of reach.
A wave of sadness washed over me as I watched it float somberly on the water. It was the first thing I had ever made with my own two hands. I felt disappointed and resentful, and I wanted to retrieve it no matter the cost. Had one of my servants been present, I would’ve ordered them to fetch it at once.
I was not, however, in the royal capital.
I sensed the children’s concern. They knew I wanted to go after it.
“We’ve been told not to go in the water because it’s cold…” mumbled Wolfe awkwardly.
“It’s deep, you’d have to swim there,” a girl added.
If only it were summer, they probably would’ve swum out to get it for me. I bit down on my lip. It’s fine. So long as they understand my frustration, it’s fine. I didn’t want to abandon the boomerang, but the fun would be over the moment I started complaining like the spoiled noble child I was.
“It’s cold, you say? Leave it to me!” Bern reached her hand into the water. “Just don’t tell anyone. Okay?”
“Okay!” the kids chorused, smiles appearing on their faces.
Bern held her hand out over the lake, and ice began to quietly creep across its surface.
My eyes widened. Magic!
Although many in our kingdom possessed magical power, few, and primarily nobles, were capable of actually wielding it. I, too, could use fire magic but had never seen Bern use her ability. Noble children were prohibited from performing acts of magic without adult supervision in addition to all sorts of other restrictions. I was no exception.
The kids’ eyes sparkled with anticipation as they watched a bridge of ice extend toward the boomerang. Once it reached its target, Bern sprinted across, refusing to give up my careful labor as wasted effort. She was rushing in to retrieve the feelings of pride and accomplishment that I, in my good boy act, had been about to leave behind.
Obli was barking incessantly, and a faint crackling noise put me on edge. “Bern! Get back here! That’s enough!” I shouted as Bern grabbed the frost-coated boomerang.
She turned, holding it glittering overhead.
A wall of water swelled up on either side of her path back to shore.
“Bern!” Wolfe yelled.
I ran toward her, the ice splintering underneath my every step. I tugged her toward me as the mass of water set itself upon the bridge.
“It’s the Lord of the Lake!” a petrified voice called out.
I quickly pulled out my dagger and imbued it with flames, wildly flailing at the encroaching deluge.
The bridge shattered with a loud cracking sound, and Bern tumbled into the water. I locked my arms around her midriff to pull her back up but was dragged in as well. To say that it was freezing would have been putting it mildly.
Bern had lost consciousness. My clothes were waterlogged and cumbersome, and Bern’s body was a deadweight, her arms hanging limp. I had never held anything so heavy in my life. We were drowning. We were being swallowed whole.
I-I can’t let Bern die!
I conjured an image in my head, one I never had before. Usually, I visualized my magic as sharp and daggerlike, but that wouldn’t do under the circumstances.
I have to get this right!
I imagined an aura of heat surrounding me. Fire is weak to water, but I should be able to at least warm it a little.
Although I felt the lake’s cold sting relent somewhat, I could see the Lord of the Lake stretching his watery hand toward us. We’re doomed!
Or so I thought until his hand stopped abruptly, halting upon touching the warm water cocooning us.
He stared at us with black eyes, then gestured as if in farewell. A gentle surge of water rolled toward us, buoying us toward the shore.
Is he sending us off? I looked back in disbelief only to see the Lord of the Lake still waving at us.
The dying, red autumn leaves my only guide, I kicked upward, towing Bern in my arms. After much effort, I eventually crested the surface. The other kids, wading waist-deep in the cold water, helped drag us back onto dry land.
“Go Obli, go!” Wolfe yelled as I passed out.