The Warrior of Ice

Chapter 5: Gift of Ice

The first thing I notice after I awake is the stiffness and soreness of my body. A stone floor is not the best place to sleep when you’re already half-frozen and banged up from falling on ice. The second thing I notice is the knawing, biting feeling in my stomach. The last time I ate was before I entered the arena. It’s a feeling that I am not altogether used to. Back home, I had had the luck to be born into one of the better-off farming families. We aren’t rich, but we don’t starve, either. Thoughts of home bring back the flood of dreams that I’d had last night and a few tears leak out the corners of my eyes. I wipe them away furiously.

“Amara... Haruka... Polaris, Daddy...” I whisper.

I wonder if any of the cameras are focused on me now, and if my family can see me. Surely there are more interesting things going on in other parts of the arena. I realize now that, since I was unconscious for the night, I must have missed the recap of dead tributes. On one hand, I am thankful that I did not have to see their faces again, but on the other, it would have helped to know how many I would yet have to out-live. I know that the Careers are at least one alliance, but there might be more alliances between the other tributes. Me, I am alone. And I prefer it that way.

Speaking of being alone, I poke my head around the rock formation that shields me from the cave entrance to check the conditions outside. It is almost a complete white-out. Snow falls thick and often, but at least it’s falling straight down—there is little breeze to influence its movement. That’s the good news. But the bad news is that I can tell by the feeling of the breeze that it will not remain calm for long. The heavy snowfall will be even worse as the day goes on, and probably will turn into a full-on blizzard. The dawn light grows steadily brighter, but I stay hunched in the back of my cave, arms wrapped around my knees in an attempt to stay warm from the increasing winds—as I had predicted.

My stomach growls again and I growl right back at it—literally. I won’t be able to last long here in this wasteland. I need food, and I need it soon. Water is less of a problem, since I am surrounded by ice... but who knows how long that will last? And even if I had food, I have no weapon. How can I defend myself without a weapon? Ice chunks can only go so far. I slowly come to the unwelcome realization that I will have to leave my sanctuary, harsh though it may be.

Then--

A loud grinding noise, and the brightest light I have ever seen fills my cave and pierces my eyes. I shriek, covering my eyes and thinking irrational thoughts of extraterrestrials. Or maybe, more realistically, the Careers and some expensive machine from the sponsors they surely have. The light dims slowly. I lower my arms.

An opening has appeared in the rock wall opposite to me and from my spot I can see a tunnel sloping deep into the depths of the cave. I look around surreptitiously, as though I am in a room full of people and am trying to sneak away. Then I remember the cameras and realize that it is probably not far from the truth. With a groan and some involuntary hissing, I manage to pull myself off the ground and stretch out my sore limbs. I do not know what is down that tunnel, but I’m hoping it’s better than what I have here, so I limp over to the opening and peer into the opening.

Then with a shrug, I carefully make my way down the deeply sloping tunnel. At least it’s bright inside; the walls are lit with torches. It seems to take forever, but then finally the tunnel levels out and I find a small, but very warm room at the end. Its walls are solid black and seem to shine when the torchlight glances off its almost geometric edges. At the opposite end of the room is a massive chest that seems to erupt from the ground of the cave—which is the same curious stone as its walls and ceiling. My heart leaps and I hear the voice of my stylist, Minta, as a memory comes back to me.

This is the first time the tributes are allowed to know anything about the arenas before they go in. This arena has treasures in different areas that can reveal themselves to the tributes, if they wish.”

“If they wish?” I had replied, “You’re talking as though the treasure can think for itself!”

“It can,” she had said shortly, but would say no more than that other than, “The treasures are gifts of the arena’s guardians, and are better than anything a sponsor could ever give. So, not to be scoffed at. If you find one of the treasures... use them."

If this isn’t a treasure, then I don’t know what is. I examine the glistening black chest for a moment and then make my way forwards. But when I reach it, I know instinctively something is wrong. The chest is locked and shut tight. As soon as my fingers brush its chilly surface, the entrance I had come in from clangs shut with a very impenetrable-looking door.

“Oh for the love of—“ But I never get to finish my forced sarcasm. At that moment, the heat increases shockingly and quickly, to the point where I am sweating in seconds. It would have been a nice change from the frigid temperatures, if not for the fact that the ceiling and walls of the room begin to drip water like rain. The drops fall faster and faster. I realize with horror that this room is not made of stone, like I had thought, but of black ice. In the time that it takes for me to dash to the door, the water is already above my knees. I bang my fists against the door with increasing hysteria, though I know that it is useless. The water level reaches my chest now, and despite the heat melting the ice, the water is still frigid. I again mentally thank my father for teaching me to swim, but I know that even that won’t matter at all in a minute. I swim back to the chest.

Maybe if I can get it open, this will stop, I think frantically. I take a breath and dive down to the bottom of the room, tugging and pulling on the chest until my air runs out. I have to go up and take another breath, and when I do, there is only enough room for my head. No. No way the Gamemakers would kill me here. They let the tributes do the killing, unless they go all insane! I let out a cry for help, not knowing or caring if anyone will hear, or who they might be. Even being stabbed to death would beat drowning. I had heard it was painful, and not at all peaceful, like some people say. I take one last desperate breath, my face pressed against the melting ceiling, and then the room is completely filled with water. I dive back down to the chest trying with all my might to open it, but it remains firmly shut. My air supply is running out.

So this is how I’m going to die.

My lungs are frantic for air, and no matter how hard I try to hold my breath, nothing can stop a body’s automatic reflex for oxygen. My mouth opens wide and my lungs gasp for air; all they get is freezing water. The icy touch sends shocks of pain radiating throughout my body and I am convulsing; choking. I am dying. I lose control of my limbs and begin to float; aware enough to realize what is happening, but I am fading quickly.

The last thing I am aware of is my sight disappearing, and then I am gone.

Not for good, though. Sometime later—I don’t know how long it was exactly—my eyes snap open and I expel a fountain of water from my lungs, coughing and retching. Feeling slowly comes back to my fingertips, hands, arms and legs, and I find that I feel warm. I sit up carefully and brush my wet mane of hair from my face and look around. I am still in the secret room, but it is no longer filled with water, though I am sopping wet. The door back to my cave has opened again... and so has the chest! I push myself up off the ground and hurry over. A scroll is the first thing I see. I reach into the chest, unfurl it, and read the scrawled writing.

"To the tribute who is Chosen and survives the test of The Gift, it is yours, and yours alone.”

A compartment somewhere within the chest clicks and slowly, magnificently, the chest’s treasure reveals itself. It is a spear. But it is unlike any spear I’ve ever seen. Its long shaft is a dark, gleaming silver that almost seems to move in the torchlight. The head of the spear is made purely of ice. One long, thick, and deadly sharp crystal reaches up from the shaft, and two tapering shards jut out on a slight angle on either side of the middle crystal. It is beautiful.

I reach out and grasp the shaft with both hands, pulling it out of the chest. A freezing sensation runs up my arms and down my spine, but it is far from unpleasant. In fact, I quite like the feeling of it. The spear almost seems to hum in my hands, as though it is alive.

The Ice Spear... my Ice Spear.