The old man could not catch up with Zandar and could only watch as he ran faster and faster.
Leaning on his cane, he quickened his pace as much as he could and shuffled forward.
The man ahead had lost his usual impeccable composure, his neatly arranged hair blown into disarray by the wind.
A scholar was still a scholar. He was panting before he had run even a hundred meters.
Zandar breathed hard. Once he saw what was happening, the anger in his chest turned instantly to fear.
The horse had long since gone out of control and was now racing across the grass with Eric on its back.
Zandar watched with his heart in his throat, terrified that Eric would fall off.
He said in a trembling voice:
"Eric, don't be afraid..."
"I'm here..."
Dozens of meters behind him, his teacher was still shuffling along slowly.
Too far away to see clearly, the old man could only hear Zandar's instructions.
"Eric, get your feet out of the stirrups-"
"Lean down-"
Soon, Eric got the reins under control and slowed the horse.
At last, the boy stopped beside the lake. Sitting on the horse, he looked down at the water less than a meter away and let out a long breath of relief.
When he looked up again, Zandar was striding toward him with a cold expression, bristling with anger.
Eric stiffened and instinctively squeezed the horse's sides, giving it the wrong command.
The horse hesitated, stepping along the lakeshore. After a brief pause, it finally obeyed the human's wishes and charged straight into the lake.
This time, even the teacher, whose eyesight was poor and who was still more than ten meters away, saw the enormous splash.
The old man gaped.
With his hair still a mess, Zandar