She could still see him struggling with his burden, his progress impeded by the extra weight, but now he had a fighting chance at success. Closer, he inched, until she could make out his features as he turned, the better to gauge his progress, but his face was gaunt, and she could tell he was near the end of his strength.

"Stop rowing!" she commanded, once again searching through her repertoire of spells. Her mind made up, she lowered her hands over the side of the skiff, dipping them into the sea. Ice crystals formed as she spoke the words and then a sheet of ice began to materialize, snaking its way across the water. She drew on all the power she could, unleashing the full fury of her inner magic. The ice grew farther, a thin sheet that cracked and popped as the waves hit it. She felt blood on her lip and knew she had exceeded her reserves, but still, she fuelled her spell. The ice thickened, and then everything went black.

Athgar thrashed about, desperate to keep the woman alive. Her head was just barely above the water, but the waves kept engulfing them, and she could not breathe in the water like him. He felt the water turn cold all of a sudden and turned, once again, to briefly look at the skiff that lay just out of reach.

He blinked in disbelief when he saw ice floating there as if ice in the middle of the sea was completely normal. He reached out, grabbing the edge of it and clung on, his hands turning cold from its touch. Somehow, he managed to get an arm over it, then used his remaining strength to drag the woman up onto the ice with him. It sank slightly with their weight, but now he could catch his breath.

Glancing back towards the Swift's skiff, he saw where the ice had broken up, the waves doing their best to destroy the frozen bridge, but Natalia's spell had given them enough to climb to safety, a small iceberg in the middle of a tossing sea.

Athgar lay back, his eyes skyward, the woman lying still beside him, his grip secure on the back of her dress. Shouting drew closer, and he turned his gaze to see the skiff approaching. As they pulled up alongside of him, he dragged her over to the skiff, the ice cracking beneath them. He realized the ice was melting quickly, and when it shifted suddenly, he dove for the skiff, his arms catching the side even as the ice sank beneath his weight.

The rowers pulled him aboard, and he lay in the bottom, too exhausted to even speak. The rhythmic rowing continued as the skiff began the long trek back to the Swift.