Eira didn't breathe as the ice flew forwards and, hopefully, into the Frost soldier. Nor did she breathe when she heard it make purchase with something solid. It wasn't until ten painful seconds had passed—feeling more like hours—that she finally forced air into her lungs. They burned, and it was hard to keep herself from choking.
She scanned the bridge carefully. There was no sign of the solider in between the gaps in the sprawling tendrils of ice, intertwining jaggedly over the width of the bridge.
Heart pounding, stomach turning, breath ragged, only one thought crossed her mind: I hope he's been impaled straight through. The fact that she could so easily wish that upon someone—was wishing—terrified her greatly.
A surge of icy air came from behind, yanking down her hood and tugging on her hair. Edan and Gwen must have been fighting whatever Frost had approached from the other end of the bridge. Though she badly wanted to check that they were faring okay, she didn't dare look over her shoulder. If she left herself be exposed, it would be equivalent to opening her arms to the sharpened scythe of Death.
But at least there hadn't been any screams from either of them. That thought was enough of a consolation to let her focus on what was in front of her.
At that second, nearly catching Eira off guard, her ice fell to pieces and clattered against the cobbles. It was in one swift, blinding movement, entirely a blur to her eyes. Until she saw the Frost soldier standing in place of the ice, swinging his longsword as though it weighed nothing at all, she had no clue as to what had happened.
He had sliced down the ice, and appeared, in all honesty, blasé about the whole thing. Fear, again, began to grasp at her. Was she so outmatched?
But then Eira saw the red. Blood dripped thickly from a gap in his armour, incongruous with the clean white of his clothes.
She had got him. There was a stab wound just below his left pauldron. How deep it was, though, she couldn't tell. It could not have been particularly serious, as he still grasped his sword with two hands. Still, it was something. A start. It eased her dread a little.
Eira clenched her jaw, watching him carefully. She attempted to gauge how he planned to counterattack before he actually put it into action. Would he strike her with his sword, or unleash the Frost upon her? Or was he strong enough to do both at once?
He met her eyes, but remained in the same spot, sword hovering a hand's breadth above the ground. She could not read his expression.
Was he perhaps trying to work out her move? Or was he merely biding his time for something—
Ice on the cobblestones. It was not her own. It glided over them and left a thin coating on their surface in its wake, coming straight for her. She could work out what he meant to do from that: he was intending to trip her up with the ice, and then most likely bring down his sword on her neck.
Eira mustered all the power she could in her brief window of opportunity, and thrust it all in front of her.
A wall rose in a near perfect square, sizing at roughly a foot taller than her. It barred the oncoming ice from passing, as well as the Frost soldier with his lifted sword. There was no way to tell how thick it was, but she hoped it was enough to hold against his attack until she devised a way to stop him entirely. And regain her strength; it taken a lot of effort to build that wall so quickly, and she was gasping for air once again.
Somebody backed into her, they too panting. Eira was sure it was Gwen. She cast a hurried look over her shoulder and saw an ice wall that mirrored her own.
"Edan got trapped on the other side," Gwen mumbled, guilt filling her voice.
Eira retrained her eyes ahead, onto the surprisingly still intact wall. "He'll be okay," she promised. "Edan is stronger than you think."
"You're right." Gwen steadied her breathing.
"We'll be alright," Eira whispered, more to herself than anyone else.
But just after the words left her mouth, a diagonal slash appeared across the wall, and it toppled down. The broken part landed with a thud mere inches from Eira's toes, breaking into several chunks on impact. She recoiled in surprise.
Just how can he wield such a heavy sword with such stealth?
Eira gritted her teeth and clenched her hands into fists before meeting the Frost soldier's cold, supercilious eyes. They were a pale shade of blue that was uncannily reminiscent of the Frost's amplifier: Icestone.
"I will never bow to you," she told him, veins buzzing with a newfound contempt. It blotted out her terror. "Do not think for a second that you will overpower me and drag me back there."
The Frost did not seem perturbed by her words. Nor did he utter anything in response. He didn't even acknowledge her, and that infuriated Eira. Was she not worthy of being his opponent? Was she just prey for him to hunt down and kill?
No, she thought. No, I am not.
She would never be reduced to mere quarry; she was stronger than that. She would not give in like a trapped animal, she would fight against him until she could no longer breathe air into her lungs.
Eira hated that look in his eyes, hated it, hated it, hated it. She would do anything in her power to scratch it away. That familiar cold feeling was building within her, driven by her hatred. It was overwhelming her body, her mind, and she could hear that far off blizzard softly saying her name. It was coaxing, loving, compelling, enchanting. Impossible to resist.
Its grasp on her was as unrelenting as it had been so many years ago when she had been tested. Almost nostalgic.
Eira closed her eyes, giving in to the blizzard's will. She spread her palms wide and unleashed everything that had been pressing at her skin, urging to be let free. She too felt liberated as it escaped.
After opening her eyes, she watched as ice and snow and hail and frost rushed from her hands in an avalanche of power. It made contact with the Frost soldier before he had even a moment to react. It froze him solid from the face down, the blood that had been dripping from his shoulder solidifying a moment before it hit the ground. It shattered against the cobblestones, the shards seeming like rubies of gore in the moonlight. His sword was stuck midair, poised in a swing towards Eira.
She regarded him for a moment. That expression was frozen on his face. Imperious. Arrogant. Unconcerned.
And then she stepped over the remains of the wall and kicked his body to the ground with as much force as she could muster. It broke into pieces against the cobbles, brittle and sharp as glass.
It was similar to that night with the guard, but this time she did not feel that same overwhelming guilt and regret. Her knees did not shake, nor did her stomach turn. Instead, she felt a sickening sort of satisfaction. She'd wiped that look off of his face. It lay in shatters at her feet.
"I am not your prey."
He had not been her hunter, either. She saw it now. He hadn't been strong. He hadn't been powerful. He definitely hadn't been superior.
She should have realised that when he had failed to parry her first attack. It would have been easy for him to have sent back some ice to counter it. But he had not. The most he had used his powers against her was to try and make her slip.
An arrogant fool with bad usage and adequate swordsmanship, that was what he had been. He really should have known: in battles like this, steel was nowhere near equal to Frost.
For a brief moment, Eira wondered if the soldier had had a family or friends, or even a lover that would miss him. She hastily disregarded that thought. This was no time for guilt. Her friends were still fighting on the other side of the bridge, and they would need all the help they could get. She forced her eyes away from the ruination, and towards Edan and Gwen.
And that was when everything started to go wrong.
Time seemed to slow from the moment she turned around. Gwen and Edan faced a nearly identical Frost soldier, though he was older, probably around forty. Unlike the first, his sword was in its sheath, and his frost-covered hands were spread wide. Nonetheless, he still bore that same arrogant countenance that seemed to be a requisite.
The Frost soldier shot a glinting spear of ice in Gwen's direction. She was standing nearest to him—unharmed but clearly tiring. She dodged hastily, lacking her usual agility and stumbling slightly before she stopped. Fear showed on her face as she steadied herself against one of the bridge's balustrades.
After regaining her balance, she countered the soldier's attack with a surge of blade-shaped shards of ice. However, her aim was off. He easily stepped out of their path, not appearing weary in the slightest.
Eira's stomach knotted at that, and she immediately entered the fray, sending several long tendrils of ice towards the solider. They looked like snakes, wending their way before they slammed into his chest and pinned him to the ground. Gwen gave Eira a grateful look, and returned her attention to the incapacitated Frost soldier.
Edan was behind him, still and silent, watching his every movement cautiously. It was obvious the soldier wasn't paying much heed to Edan, and whether that was because he'd deemed him harmless, or simply forgotten he was there , was unclear.
Eira and Gwen approached from either side, joining Edan in surrounding the soldier. There was nowhere for him to escape other than over the bridge and into the river.
Eira glanced down at him, considering her next move. Should she deal with him now, too?
The soldier's face contorted into a a patronising smile. "Don't be looking so triumphant, now. You children haven't won yet."
"I don't declare victory until my enemy has been vanquished," Gwen told him, cold. "But as you have been restrained and surrounded, I wouldn't say you've got the upper hand."
"You have unreasonably underestimated me. Just because your monster of a friend slew my fool of a partner, it does not mean that I will be senseless enough to meet the same end."
"You have been immobilised," Eira said. "I could freeze you solid in an instant, and you could not stop me. Your hands are trapped."
"Trust me," the soldier said, unfazed, "my back up is imminent. Frosts and guards alike. Many of them."
"You think your threats scare me?" Eira wasn't sure what had come over her—how she'd found the nerve to provoke him like this—but she made use of it, because Edan was standing with his hands spread, giving her a look that could only mean he knew what to do next.
The Frost soldier's sneer grew, condescending at best. "I'm not one to lose against two petulant children."
At that moment, realisation flooded over. Horrified, she saw the ice that bound his wrists was thin, flimsy, cracking. He had been chipping away at his bonds with the heavy cuffs of Icestone he wore—while Eira had foolishly been thinking she was distracting him. Damn it. How hadn't she noticed?
Edan walked nearer to the solider, fiery rage burning in his eyes. "Who said there were only two?"
Eira had never seen him so furious, so full of hate. Fear constricted in her chest. Had Edan not seen the soldier's weakened restraints? Had he not seen he was moments away from escaping?
"Edan—!"
But it was too late. The Frost soldier broke free.
But perhaps he had actually noticed, as Edan instantaneous jumped into action. He drew two large shards of ice from his palms, long as twin swords and twice as deadly.
Eira's eyes widened a little; he'd evidently been practising a lot since she'd left.
Edan lunged at the soldier, bringing one of the pieces of ice down towards him in a sweeping arc.
Just before it collided with him, the soldier managed to roll away and avoid being hit by the brunt of the attack. Yet it still connected with his flesh. The right side of his stomach was lacerated just below where his breastplate ended. It was severe enough for blood to gush out and stain the snow on the ground. The soldier grimaced and placed a hand protectively to his side.
Edan was on him before he could stand, wild but determined. He aimed for the Frost soldier's chest with the ice sword, red marring its tip.
This time, the soldier was quicker to act. From the hand not gripping his injury, he pushed a barrage of hard snow at Edan's hands. It was enough to make Edan drop his ice blades, but he didn't yield. Instead, he leapt forward and toppled the soldier to the ground.
Eira wanted nothing more than to intervene, wanted to send all the ice and snow that lay inside her towards Frost soldier, but she couldn't. Not with Edan so close to him. She didn't trust her aim enough to not injure her friend as well, and she was not gifted in hand-to-hand combat. All she could do was look on helplessly with Gwen—who was bent over and too weakened to attack—and wait for the instant the soldier was a safe distance away.
Edan was outmatched. The soldier was considerably taller and much stronger. He pushed Edan off with ease, and Edan slammed into the balustrade, crumpling in a heap of tangled limbs.
"Edan!" Eira shrieked. She didn't care if she was no good in close-up fights; she would protect her friend. She hastened to the soldier, rage and terror coursing throughout every inch of her body.
But she didn't get there on time.
The soldier picked Edan up by the collar of his shirt, as if he weighed nothing at all, and then threw him backwards.
A yell escaped Edan's lips as he toppled over the balustrade.
And into the freezing torrents below.
Everything froze for Eira. Despair, cold and heavy as lead, overcame her. She felt as though she was running through butter.
"Edan!" she screamed, loud enough to make her vocal chords burn.
She carelessly threw ice in the direction of the soldier. She hoped it hit him, killed him. But it was not her main priority. He just needed to be delayed.
By the time her hands were grasping the granite railing, Edan was well and truly gone. Eira collapsed to her knees, nausea building in her stomach.
No. No. No.
This couldn't be right. It couldn't. It couldn't!
She had not heard the necessary splash of Edan meeting a watery grave.
Only a thud.
She forced in a deep breath, and began pulling herself to her feet. Just as she was about to look down at the river, heart in her throat,
something hard and freezing collided with her head. Her grip on the balustrade loosened, and she fell back to the cobblestones, grazing her knees and palms.
Her head spun for a moment, but she regained her senses within a few seconds. She'd been hit with a lump of hard-packed snow. Intended to disorientate, not injure.
Eira blinked several times, brushing it from her eyes and hair. She got to her feet, legs unsteady from shock—whether that was because of the snow or Edan, she wasn't sure—and turned to see the Frost soldier swiftly nearing, palms wide. He had a triumphant look upon his face, and in the distance Eira could her the approaching steps of many pairs of boots.
Had they lost? Was it over?
Panic began to overwhelm Eira, immobilising her limbs. She probably wouldn't be able to move out of the way of the impending attack. That fact just worsened her state.
But was there even any point in fighting back? They were as good as dead. All of her resolve had left her when she saw Edan tumble into the river.
But then hailstones collided with the Frost soldier, knocking him to the ground.
A hand gripped Eira's arm and pulled her to her feet. "Now is not the time to give up." Gwen.
Eira steadied herself and looked to her friend, taking in her every feature. Her resolute expression, the almost hopeful glint in her eyes, the firm line of her mouth. There was no sign of anguish or terror apparent.
Eira swallowed. "Edan—"
"Edan is all right. He had a plan." Gwen gave her a tired smile. "Please, Eira. Fight. We must live."
Relief washed over Eira, warming and welcome. She had been right. He had not fallen into the Linn and perished. Thank the forsaken gods.
But just what had she been thinking? Had she really been intending to surrender and let herself be slaughtered? No. That was not the answer. It never was. Despair and panic and fear had clouded her thoughts, made her forget the thing she'd vowed never to do.
I will not cower. I will not balk. And I certainly will not yield.
She met Gwen's eyes. "We'll live."
Gwen nodded, giving her another brief smile.
"Gwen, Eira, hurry!" a voice called from beneath the bridge.
Edan. He didn't sound like he was in pain. He was really all right. The last of Eira's fear left her.
Gwen pulled herself up onto the top of the balustrade, motioning hastily for Eira to
follow.
The soldier was back on his feet, and was again approaching the two of them.
"Come on," Gwen whispered, urgent.
Eira clambered up to stand beside her friend. She trusted Edan and Gwen, and hoped their plan would work out. Eira's own had failed miserably.
Gwen's gripped Eira's arm. "Don't look down."
Eira kept her eyes fully trained on Gwen. The footsteps were getting closer and closer behind them, and Eira knew it would be a matter of seconds before ice pierced both of their backs.
Gwen smiled encouragingly.
Even before she spoke it, Eira knew what Gwen was intending for them to do. She steeled herself, eyes still on Gwen.
"Jump."
Eira and Gwen launched themselves forward, the ground beneath their feet replaced with only air.
Eira closed her eyes tight and plummeted towards the raging rapids.
Not once did she look down.
~
thank you for reading, and thank you to everyone for your support & comments & votes. i love you all, and i'm overwhelmed with gratitude every time i see it. i think i say this every chapter, but it doesn't make it any less true.
hopefully chapter 29 will be up soon (though i'll try not to make too many promises so you aren't disappointed if i don't), and if you have any thoughts please tell me them!! comments/votes/etc are always appreciated!! see you next chapter <33