Ease The Dawn

Part 2, Chapter 11

Suspended, weightless, the sound of water rushed in her ears as she fought the frantic urge to inhale. Thrashing in her heavy nightdress, she kicked with all her strength, staring up to the opening in the broken ice. Brightness from the surface above shone down on her face through the frigid darkness.

The burning in the muscles of her arms and legs began to spread to her lungs. They felt so stretched from holding her breath that another moment held might force them to rupture. Struggling up through the icy water, she broke the surface just long enough to gulp a breath of air.

The relief was short as her body sank back below, the sound of the world cutting away to quiet. Shooting back up, she hammered the water, treading to keep her chin above, her arms aching and her eyes wide searching for his face.

Succumbing to the cold lake again, she fell back under into the silence. Fighting hard to the top, she burst up, gasping, locking eyes with the immense stag. The impressive beast stood perfectly still, his eyes dark watching her small body battle for her life. One hoof of its strong front legs stomped before it lowered his snout, shaking his mange and sniffing the air above her. 

It was now or die, she thought as she flung herself up, kicking with the last of her stamina. Catching a jagged lip on the edge with her fingers, she cried out, her other hand finding a ridge to hold onto.

Out of breath, she peered up at the commanding buck who again lowered his head and majestic rack toward her. He was so close that her fingers and face felt the warmth from his hot breath as fog blew out his snout.

Carefully, she reached a trembling hand up toward one of his thick horns. Desperation took over practical thought as she hoped he could somehow pull her from the water. The cold was turning her body numb and she knew, soon, her hands would let go.

Flinching, the animal grunted and jumped, slamming its front hooves down. Aethelswith's eyes shot wide as she felt the ice below her shift. Jumping again, the stag lifted his head and his large antlers. Eyes darting side to side, his ears pricked high as if he was listening to the hum of the snow gently fall.

Lurching, his body tensed as he looked over her head toward the tree line bordering the solid lake. His black eyes were fixed on a hooded figure carrying a bow and arrow walking out from the edge of the forest. 

Following the beast's line of sight, she turned, watching in horror as the faceless man, wearing a green cloak with chainmail armour, moved in their direction. The large deer spooked again, snorting and ramming his legs down onto the icy surface. Murmuring soothing sounds, she gripped the edge and tried to draw the deer's eyes back to hers. Knowing in every part of her waning mind, that the man was there to kill them both.

The animal grunted and huffed, dipped his nose back down to her before skitting back on the thick ice. Glancing behind, she saw that the hunter was halfway across the frozen clearing. Stopping, he pulled an arrow from his back and lowered to rest one knee down, notching the arrow swiftly with his gloved hands. Snapping her head back to the stag, her frantic eyes locked with his. She sensed that he heard her silent command to flee. He did not budge. He stayed, standing tall but afraid, guarding her from above.

"Go," she whimpered, her face breaking with tears. "Go!" she urged louder, shaking her head at the fact that he was stepping even closer. "You ridiculous animal!" she yelled. "How can you possibly save me. Run! Get! Please."

Feeling the whizz of the arrow overhead, she had no time to cry a warning. The arrow struck the buck's broad chest, hitting him dead centre. Rearing up onto his hind legs, his agonizing squeal screamed out, his front hooves landed hard on the ice, and he collapsed forward onto his knees. His immense rack smacked the frozen surface splintering off an extension of horns. Huffing with wild eyes, the beast struggled as fog heaved from its mouth and nostrils. Lowering his magnificent head, he folded onto his side, groaning in what sounded like defeat.

"No," she whispered, her eyes still set with his, as blood trickled from the side of his mouth.

She knew her time was also done as her body had lost all feeling. Still, with a gnarled frozen hand, she tried to reach out to him. Slipping, she fell from the edge and sank back under.

The cold shocked her face and head as she weakly kicked her legs for the surface. She sucked in another breath when she broke above for just an instant. Gazing up through the blur of swirling water, she looked straight into the faceless void of the cloaked soldier. Leaning over the opening in the ice, he watched her lose her fight. Staring at him, her movements slowed, letting the cold and exhaustion take over. She felt all the fear of dying and still chose to surrender. As the water filled her lungs, she eased her panic by imagining the face of the magnificent beast and his sharp, brilliant stare. Embracing the darkness in his beautiful eyes, she drifted back into the black.

—

Gasping up toward the ceiling, Ivar's eyes slammed open, his body surged up from the mattress as he sucked air into his lungs. His hand shot to his bare chest, searching for the strike. Finding the smooth skin unbroken with no arrow protruding, he exhaled and slumped back onto the bed. Disorientated, his eyes darted around their chambre as he lay still, struggling to make sense of the sting he felt in his chest. It felt so real.

"I am so sorry, King Ivar, for waking you," a thrall named Ursa rushed. Straightening from where she crouched on the wooden floor, she rose quickly, hurrying back from his side of the bed.  "I know you have not been sleeping long, I am sorry."

"Aethelswith," he whispered and snapped his head over to look. Laying still on her back and wearing a thin nightgown, her wavy hair was loosely plated and her face was tilted in his direction. The neatly folded washcloth across her forehead told him one of the many healers, working in shifts, had recently been in.

Digging his elbows down into the bed, he hurried onto his side and pressed his lips to her tepid cheek. Still in the fog of sleep, he was surprised, half expecting her skin to be ice cold like the black water in his dream. Lowering his eyes from her peaceful face, he watched her breath move her chest. Her temperature had broken and she had the slightest hint of colour sprouting on her cheeks.

"What!" he snarled, turning and glaring at the slave who now stood as far back from the bed as she could.

"King Ivar, I apologize," she whined. "King Harald is in the hall...growing impatient... agitated. He is insisting, insisting," she repeated. "He says he will not leave until he speaks with you about Lady Aethelswith. My king," she dropped the volume of her voice. "I heard him speaking with his men. He wants to take her."