Chapter 41

Ice

The festival nature of a minor tournament means the schedule for the competitors is fairly punishing. There are two fights every two days until only two teams are left battling to claim victory over the entire thing. They…I will fight in a special championship match with lots of pomp and fanfare.

This early into the Storm Herald Invitational there are still enough competitors that I won’t have to fight again on the next event day which is both a blessing and a curse. My body can always use more time between matches, especially with the painful nature of my cracked sternum. My mind however is a different story.

It isn’t like I can stop thinking about my upcoming fights, playing out all the ways things could go in my mind again and again. Winning, losing, getting hurt, killing my opponents. Every moment I’m not training, these scenarios dominate my thoughts. And that's on top of the budding fear I always feel before a match, which is itself exacerbated by the knowledge that the level of my opposition can only go up as I win tournament matches.

These rampant thoughts assaulting me make my rest time less than restful. The morning after my match against the moose guy and the fish guy I head to the practice pits whilst the weapons drills and sparring are taking place. Not being forced to I obviously don’t join in. I didn’t even go on my run, training with the other kids today can go right to the world of shadows.

I do however approach Harrk, who is running the training to get my hands on a type one light axe. The difference between a type one and my beloved type two is the top of the axehead. The type one curves up into a point, where the type two is flat like a big hatchet. Being a light axe rather than a medium it's also a lot smaller than I prefer, and not long enough to be wielded two-handed the way I like. These traits which usually make me avoid the weapon are exactly why I want it now.

Harrk is happy to let me grab one from the unlocked weapon racks, though obviously he and the other guards will stop me from taking it out of the training pits. Finding a free practice dummy doesn’t take long and I get to work making myself look like an idiot with my unpracticed, unorthodox technique.

Practicing something new is basically never fun. In particular a specialist skill like the one I'm practising. You have to sort of fight your instincts and relearn things. It creates a period where you are a worse fighter than usual. In theory, you come out the other side a superior warrior to how you started like how those crawly bugs come out of their shell things as moths.

I have at least four days to get this right, which should be plenty of time since it's hardly the first time I’ve picked up a type one light axe. It might be even longer before I am matched up against Corlin and Arium, if at all. Now if only I had a similar scheme to work on for the flame witch and her pet colossus.

That night I take it fairly easy, and we focus on making sure Kalon is sharp. He and Tota will be fighting the second to last remaining team from House Saffron. Considering how many spots the richest house held within the tourney I’m a little surprised they have almost all been eliminated. Good, those red-armoured losers always look down on the rest of us anyway.

No spices for our food tonight, that only happens the day of a victory, not the days after. On the upside, it means we don’t have to listen to yet another night of BloodRock waxing poetic about how great the house is. We are still mid-tournament which means we are fed and watered a little better than usual at least. After the food at the BlackMist party and then the fatty little gamebird at the arena it tastes especially bland.

Sleep that night is a weird experience, and by weird I mostly mean bad. I’m practically asleep before my head meets my cot. Yet I find myself waking up frequently throughout the night, my chest aching from the lack of movement. It's frankly annoying how long you can find yourself in pain from just a single injury that should be fairly minor.

Annoying enough in fact that once the sun finally rises I resolve to go find Coil again. The nervous old surgeon was surprisingly helpful when I had been seeking information about the nature of magical healing. The thought of how much of me has been replaced is still horrifying, but It doesn’t dominate my mind as much as it did before I spoke to him last time.

It is my hope that after our shared tea and words, Coil might not be quite so afraid of me, but when I stride into his room at the bottom of the tower it's the same surprised stuttering as always.

Once the surgeon calms down a little I explain about the pain in my sternum, and ask what I can do about it. Coil informs me that the only real cure is time, an answer that would bother me a lot less if I wasn’t halfway through a tournament.

This always fucking happens when I’m in a multi-legged event. Injuries big and small build up with shocking speed. It's enough to make me wish I could move like Resh or even Xael. Neither of them can break through a guard the way I do, or bite someone’s face off like I can. But when it comes to avoiding injury they both leave me in the dust.

Since time and rest are out of my reach at the moment and pain herbs will make me fight like shit, all he can really offer is a few minor ways to mitigate the pain.

“Your best option is going to be Ice,” he says thoughtfully. “Put that up against the injured area and the cold will act as a sort of salve.”

I stare at him as though the old man has taken leave of his wits. Maybe he has, it all sounds like slightly insane gibberish to me.

“Ice?” I ask dubiously. “ like the hard kind of snow?” He nods and my confusion doesn’t lessen. “ I have never ever seen regular snow. How on the seven worlds would I get Ice?”

The old man chuckles and I hold back a glare.

“Ice and snow can be made out of water” explains the surgeon as though it's the most obvious thing in the world. I press him on the details and he informs me there are ways to make water so cold it transforms into ice. That doesn’t sound right to me, things don’t take on new forms just because they get cold. Having never touched, seen, or smelled the stuff I can’t exactly argue.

The wild-haired old man claims there are alchemists in the city who can make the stuff for me, without even having to use magic. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have any, nor possess the apparatus to make it.

‘Well so much for that.’

I’m a little disappointed by being left with stretches and breathing exercises to manage my pain, but I hadn’t really expected much anyway. Besides, while this makes inhaling hurt it's far from debilitating. Resh left a sword hilt deep in my chest and I still almost beat him. Compared to that, fighting with this will be like fighting with a bug bite. At least that's what I tell myself.

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Despite my doubts, I still bring up the hard snow to Xael when we are training in his temporary practice pit. He assures me that yes Ice is made from very cold water, and yes It can stop aches and pains for a little while. As for creating it, he has no idea. In the GodsRing where the dark-haired boy is from, Ice and snow are carved into huge blocks and slid down from mountain tops. No one up there is using specialty equipment to make water get really really cold.

The foreign boy promises to speak to his sister about it and we get down to practice. I’m still working on the type one light axe. I don’t think that highly of the weapon, but I’m increasingly confident it will serve my purposes when the time comes.

We are maybe two hourglasses into the practice session when I become certain something is wrong with Xael today. At first, I assume it is the post-fight malaise many pitters experience, though he isn’t lethargic like you normally see when that happens. Quite the opposite. There is a nervous energy about the GodsRinger boy that I haven’t seen before. His techniques are sloppier than usual, he gets frustrated easily, and he keeps running his hands through his hair. I try to ignore it but to my utter shock, I find I actually care.

When did I stop considering Xael just my partner and start considering this a friendship? I’m a little concerned that I hadn’t noticed before but this feels like a good thing. Admittedly he might have just worked his tourist magic on me like he did everyone else, an idea that should bother me but somehow doesn’t.

I shake my thoughts clear and refocus on my…friend. “What on the seven worlds is wrong with you?” I stop my practice swings to ask.

“Why would something be wrong?”

Fully turning to face Xael I tongue the side of my mouth and raise both eyebrows.

“Don’t dodge the question.”

He offers a tired version of his sheepish smile. “Am I really so obvious?” He asks ruefully.

“I must be getting too used to this city, back home there would be a minor scandal if it was clear I was losing control of my emotions.”

Budding friendship or not if he keeps avoiding answering me I'm going to hit him. So I narrow my eyes and glare in silence for a few heartbeats. Apparently, that isn't enough encouragement so I go on.

“Answer. The fucking. Question”

The foreign boy rolls his eyes and finally but finally begins to elaborate.

“I love to fight, I love everything about it, I love testing myself, I love being so close to death and avoiding it, I love the thrill that only comes from putting your blade into someone using everything they have to prevent it.” Something ignites in his eyes as he speaks.

“alright?” I reply unsure where Xael is going with this.

“I am now discovering I cannot add watching someone I care about fighting to that list.”

It takes me a moment to figure out what he’s talking about. “You are worried about Kalon,” I say slowly. It honestly should have been obvious, and I feel stupid for not seeing it immediately. The pair of them sneak off to be alone every chance they get, Of course, he is going to be nervous about his boyfriend fighting. Especially without a match of our own to distract him.

“ I can’t stop thinking about it” concedes Xael. “ Both Kalon and Tota are getting better quickly, but there are some true monsters in this event. If they draw into the wrong team I fear they will not survive it.”

I shrug at him. “Sometimes we die.”

“Great. Thank you, that is wonderfully comforting.”

I run a hand through my main, a sort of mimicry of Xael's own anxious movements. I'm not trying to be callous. I just don't really know what to tell him. It's enough to make my snicker start working its way up my throat.

“What am I supposed to say?” I ask trying to hold back the laughter.

“You want me to tell you Kalon will be fine tonight? He probably will, he's fighting one of the last two Saffron teams and not the one with Velorn. He will be fine.”

“Well, that is a bit closer to what I'd hoped you would sa-” I cut him off, my frustration having crept up on me. “Do you still not know where the fuck you are? That doesn't mean a thing.” He looks taken aback, especially since I start laughing.

I try to rush out my explanation, but the boy's face continues to darken. it must seem as though each word out of my mouth strikes me as more hilarious than the last. Interposed as they increasingly are by my giggling snicker.

“This is House BloodRock, even if Kalon and Tota win, they will fight again in a couple days, then once more a couple days later.”

I try to reel in the laughing I really do, but It's something I've only ever been able to delay. Never something I can stop.

“And after the storm herald is over it will only be a matter of weeks till they fight again, maybe a month at the most, and that's only if they keep winning! They lose a single one of those matches and they will get beaten half to death and still be expected to fight.”

Ever since I met Xael and Illexa I've thought their accent gave them a sort of flat listless tone to their words. That doesn't mean they actually lack emotion though. The look he gives me is full of contempt so cold he could make ice without a special device right now.

“And this is funny, is it? The impending death of my lover, your impending death.”

I try to tell him that isn't it, but my snicker only intensifies. He makes a disgusted noise and turns away.

“Wait!” I manage to croak out but he ignores me.

I stand there watching him walk away from me…

‘Nah. Fuck that.’

I’m pretty big, but I’m also faster than I look, especially when it comes to bursts of explosive movements. After only a few heartbeats of hesitation, I chase that boy down and tackle him.