Ice
Moving forward was a chore. Ice crept up my legs, and bit at the corners of my face covering. Every step required me to break…
Author: Patrick Wilson
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Moving forward was a chore. Ice crept up my legs, and bit at the corners of my face covering. Every step required me to break…
Moving forward was a chore. Ice crept up my legs, and bit at the corners of my face covering. Every step required me to break off more connecting ice. If I stayed still for too long, I would become a permanent resident. Despite the cold-resistant enchantment on my gear, I still shivered. I was in a tall cave, decorated with giant icicles, thick snow, and, of course, ice. My journey to this place was long, and no doubt exciting, from an outside perspective. But I was not excited along the way.
The creatures living in this realm are all carnivorous, winter-dwelling monsters. I had to fight my way to this place; my destination. Inside this cave, was the source of an artificial winter, that plagued the surrounding kingdom.
The King had (reluctantly) hired me to track the source and destroy it. The latter part caused me hesitation, as I already knew the source. I did not reveal this, however, as sharing that knowledge was not necessary for my success. So, here I was, facing an ever-dropping temperature, in a cave, after slaying many beasts. My second concern, after the cold, was my fatigue. My lungs received warm air from the fire-bound covering over my face, but it wasn’t the same quality as breathing air directly. It was designed for surviving winter days, not the heavy breathing of exercise.
Knowing my destination, I’d requested a special sword for this quest; Winter’s Bane. The soul of a fire elemental dwells within its folded steel. The blade sweated in my gloved hand, an effect of ice magic trying to freeze it. Another effect was the steam that rose like smoke around it. I pointed the steaming sword forward, at my target.
Across the cavern of ice, sat a throne, carved from the base of a frozen waterfall. Upon the throne, sat a figure in a hooded, white robe. The figure showed no signs of ice buildup. A bare hand poke out from an overly large sleeve, gripping a clear, staff sized icicle. The icicle grew at its base, responding to the warm, hostility before it.
Without further warning, the frozen river beneath me rose, as thick spikes. Narrowly escaping death, I threw myself sideways, painfully slamming into the uneven ice, but still sliding a far distance. Not wanting to be an easy target, I rolled with the motion and came up running. Spikes continued to warp the terrain, but I stayed well ahead. A wall tried to block my path, but a quick slash shattered the construction with superior magic. Spraying ice shards rained down on my next opponent; living ice. This living ice took the shape of warriors, wielding a variety of weapons.
I alone was chosen for this quest.
I ducked under an axe, removing the arm that swung it.
I alone was capable of facing this foe.
Two evaporated by my blade. Three spears tried to skewer me but hit the air. I flew over the weapons, destroying one of the spearmen before landing. With a gloved hand, I pulled one of the remaining attackers toward me, while the other wound up to strike at it again. I rotated, directing the spear I held to just past my hip. With the momentum of my spin, I destroyed the spear still pointed at me. Before I lost grip on the spear I held to my left, I stabbed the ice warrior who held it. Then, before the last could react, I destroyed him too.
I faced the figure on the throne, with an ice-shard rug and icicle curtains. My brief victory was interrupted by a dozen more ice warriors forming in front of me. I smiled, not that anyone could see it.
“I expected nothing less from you,” I said, then lunged into action.
Every attack was slowed by gripping ice; the closer I got to the throne, the harder it became to move. The problem with living ice is it can always reform. Every enemy I destroyed, pulled itself back together, ready to go again. I didn’t have that luxury. If those weapons made it past my cold protection, there wouldn’t be another chance for me.
I had no choice. I would break this Winter. I would complete my quest.
So, I fought, against ice, cold, and fatigue. I was close enough to the throne to see the face beneath the hood; it was uncovered, and unaffected by the cold. Unblinking, blue eyes stared out at me without malice. Instead, I saw pity.
Frost covered every part of me, as I stepped within range of the figure. He raised his free hand, unleashing a blinding storm of snow upon me. The living ice warriors washed away, no longer of concern to Him. The torrent continued; a final attempt to be rid of me.
I pushed forward, inch by inch, my inner fire and burning sword keeping me moving.
I would complete my quest.
I pulled back my sword, pointing it forward, and with a final push, I thrust it home. The torrent slowed, clearing a view of my target. I stepped closer, pushing the sword deep into his chest. I raised the hood with my other hand, giving me an unobstructed view of his face. His eyes, filled with pity, faded from blue to deep brown.
“I’m sorry, brother,” I said, pulling the sword free.
He smiled weakly, then mouthed, “Thank you.”
The icicle staff melted as I watched the life leave my brother’s eyes. The earth shook, and ice began to fall apart. Building tall icicles fell in deafening crashes behind me; I stayed still.
A trickle of water flowed around my feet, a sign that the waterfall and river were thawing. I stayed still. A loud crash told me the river, feeding the waterfall, was flowing again.
I took one last look at my brother. He was now a corpse on a frozen throne. I closed his eyes, then looked up and closed mine.
The crashing of water was closer now. I heard it flow over the top of the waterfall.
My quest was finished.
THE END
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