“It would have been seventy years ago. Or longer. It looks like we’re too late.”
On the other side of the lake, massive piles of discarded slate slid off the mountain, cutting off access to the strip of shore we needed. Walking around the lake and crossing the discarded slate would be too dangerous—there could be a rockslide. I didn’t want to be crushed.
The mountain possessed the strangest topography I’d ever seen. Quarrying activities had turned it into a huge step pyramid, each level several hundred feet high. It was almost entirely black because the earth had been quarried straight down to the slate. Much of it had just been tossed aside, unused garbage. The only path up the mountain was between the two enormous piles of discarded slate, and the only way to get there was to cross the water somehow.
“I could fly us over,” Roarke said.
“No.” I glanced down at the map to confirm, then back at the lake, taking note of the black mist rising off of it. Birds circled the lake, but never flew over. Just like the map said. “We have to take a boat. There’s a warning on the map. The lake is enchanted. The black mist that comes off the surface keeps anything from flying over. Look at the birds. Whatever is at the top of the mountain, they’re determined to make you follow the map’s directions to get there. No shortcuts.”
Which was probably the real reason my dragon sense didn’t work. Magic blocked it.
Roarke craned his neck, eventually finding the birds that I pointed to. None of them flew over the lake.
“There was more than just a slate quarry on that mountain,” Roarke said.
I peered into the dark water of the lake. “And more than just fish in that water.”
We needed a boat. I’d raised one before. I could do it again. If there was one in there. “I’ve got an idea. Give me a sec.”
I shoved the map back in my pocket and closed my eyes. I didn’t know what period of boat might be sunk in that lake, but I hoped it didn’t matter. With a deep breath, I called upon my magic, trying to ignore the block that was supposed to be placed upon my mind. I couldn’t feel it, but the knowledge that it was there was unpleasant.
I could totally do this. Practice, practice, practice, like Draka had said in my dream. Just because it was unreliable didn’t mean it was impossible.
Magic sparked inside of me, a bright light that I tried to reach. I strained, desperate to catch it, as I envisioned a boat rising from the depths of the black lake. Power vibrated on the air. My power.
I wasn’t going to let some damned curse stop me. I didn’t want to live like this—only able to use my magic occasionally and if I got lucky.
“Whoa.” Roarke’s soft exhalation made me open my eyes.
A dirty wooden boat was rising out of the water, its decks covered in seaweed. The middle was broken apart, the wood splintered. I envisioned the timbers knitting themselves back together and the weeds sinking back below the surface of the lake.
Slowly, the boat did as I requested, then floated toward the shore. When it beached, the air over the deck began to shimmer. A man’s hazy outline formed.
Shit.
I didn’t want to have to deal with some miner from 1910.
I reeled my magic in, shoving it back inside of me. The man’s outline disappeared, leaving only the boat.
“Not bad,” Roarke said.
“Let’s just hope it lasts.”
I approached the boat, which was about twenty feet long with a wide, flat deck. Perfect for stacking cargo. A ragged sail hung from the mast, but four massive paddles were stacked against the side of the hull. For low-wind situations. Or for when you brought the ship up from the bottom of the lake and the sail was still in crap condition.
I climbed aboard, my feet squishing on the wood, which was still partially water-logged. Weeds scattered the deck here and there. “Not exactly in mint condition.”
Roarke stepped aboard. “It’s got a bit of Davy Jones clinging to it, but it’ll do.”
“I don’t think that sail is going to pick up any wind.” I eyed the massive holes in the fabric, then went and picked up two of the heavy paddles. I handed one to Roarke. “This might take a while.”
The lake was pretty wide. At least four hundred yards across.
We took up position on either side of the boat and began to paddle. There was no sun because of the snow clouds, but the water gleamed all the same. It was eerie.
The going was slow, and by the time we were halfway across, my muscles ached. I was glad he was here. I’d never have managed to row across by myself.
I stopped rowing and wheezed, “Break time.”
Roarke stopped paddling, and we sat dead still on the lake as I heaved to catch my breath.
Around us, the black water began to ripple, little waves that popped up out of nowhere. Magic sparked on the air, smelling like dead seaweed.
Roarke eyed the waves. “There’s no wind.”
“Yeah.” I plunged my oar back into the water, my heart starting to pound from more than just exhaustion. “This is weird. Let’s go.”
We’d barely taken a stroke before something massive plunged into the side of the boat. I stumbled, falling to my knees.
“Del! Look--” Roarke’s shout was cut off by another massive crash.
Something pushed the boat from underneath, flipping it up and over.
I crashed into the water, the freezing cold stealing my breath and sending an icepick of pain through my head. I flailed, trying to determine up and down. I opened my eyes, only able to see the tiniest glow of light. I followed the bubbles that escaped my mouth, kicking upward and stretching for the surface, only to crash into the wooden boat above.
It had capsized and was sinking! The heavy wood pushed me deeper into the water. Frantic, I kicked to the side, trying to escape the heavy press of the boat. I’d nearly reached the edge when something grabbed my ankle and pulled me deeper.
Water monster!
I screamed, losing the last of my precious air. The grip tightened as I kicked and thrashed. At best, I had a minute before I lost consciousness.
Fighting instinct kicked in, driving away the panic. I called on my Phantom form. No icy chill raced through me like it usually did. The water made me too cold for that. But my skin turned blue and transparent, lighting up the water with a glow.
A bubbly shrieking sound tore through the water, and the grip on my ankle loosened. The water monster was affected by my Phantom touch!
But my lungs still burned from lack of air. Even as a Phantom, I needed to breathe. Weakening, I kicked for the surface, wishing I was a fish shifter or something.
I’d only made it a few feet when the monster grabbed me again. It hissed, but held on, clearly desperate for this catch if he was willing to grab me.