Fire and Ice

The Attack

Eliza

The moment I open my eyes, I know something is wrong.  I slide the covers off my bed, step quietly onto the floor, and light a candle.  I see myself in the mirror- I have the same tan skin, dark almond eyes, black hair falling over my shoulders.  Yet something is still wrong.  I barely have time to sit back on my bed before the door of my chamber bursts open, and my mother rushes inside.  "Quick," she whispered breathlessly.  "Get dressed.  We're under attack."

"What do you mean?" I say, and my mother replies with her finger over her lips, shushing me.  "Under attack from who?" I continue in a whisper this time.

"It's the Ice Kingdom," she replies.  "Now hurry!"

I've seen my mother in many different situations in countless different roles.  I've seen her as a queen, a mother, a sister, a wife.  I've seen her comfort our subjects and send them away.  But in everything she's done, she's always remained regal and calm.  But she doesn't now.  A frantic look of fear dances in her own dark eyes, and I've never been more scared than I am in this moment.  She runs from the room and I seize a dress from my closet.  It's a simple one, red, long sleeves, fitted to my chest and waist, and loose to the floor.  I pull brown boots onto my feet and lace them up before I run from my chamber.  My feet fly down the stairs, past servants running up and down them in panic.  I keep running, seeing everything, but processing none of it.  Everything is a blur, a dream that's somehow taken hold of my reality.

I run to the large wooden doors, bolted shut.  My mother is there too, and so is my father.  Mother grabs me by my shoulders and pulls me in, embracing me.  She then hands me a sword, which I grasp as if my life it depends on it (and it may).  "Fight off anyone who tries to hurt you," she says.  "They'll be in the castle soon, and when they attack, we need to be ready."

I nod.  I don't cry.  I'm not one for crying.  I look over at Father.  His eyes are out of the window, watching our fires freezing over, watching everything he's worked toward be frozen in time.  I bite my lip and stand there, watching the door, waiting for the inevitable.

The minutes creep by in my mind, making them seem like hours.  I hear the screams of those outside, and I can tell that the Ice soldiers will be upon us soon.  And so I wait.  I could live or die, but I still wait.

I was raised a fighter.  I have the fire of the kingdom inside of me, and it's as essential as a heart or my bones.  I know how to use that fire.  I know how to fight.  I know how to hurt.  I know how to kill.

The pounding on the doors begins, and I ready my stance.  Feet apart, eyes forward.  Ready for anything.  Don't think about death, only defending your life.  I know this.  I am a fighter.

The door swings open, and soldiers, men and women clad in various shades of blue and white rush in, brandishing swords.  Time moves in slow motion, the rushing, the running, the clash of swords, and the scream of one that is dying.  Before I even know it, I'm fighting a soldier on instinct.  She's tall, with pale skin, long blond hair, and icy blue eyes that seem to say, fight me if you dare.

I dare.

I raise my sword, and it clashes with hers.  The sound of metal on metal wakes me up inside, makes me more aware of my surroundings.  I spin like I've been taught, and my blade strikes her shoulder, but not deeply.  It is only a shallow cut, but blood begins to drip from it.  The soldier looks down at the wound, and I've gotten what I wanted.  She's distracted. I swing my sword again and strike her, but run. She can no longer fight. It doesn't matter whether or not she's fatally injured. All she needs to be is disabled. For now, she cannot fight. And that's what I need.

I fight others, none of which stand out to me. A warrior doesn't often remember their opponent. I was taught to forget. If I forget, then I can't feel regret. You can't be merciless when you remember, remember that they're human just like you. Yes, better to think of them as machines that need to be fought away. Not people. Never people.

But there's one that strikes me. I can't forget this one. He is tall, with light blond hair and the common blue eyes, except they don't seem common as his. They are special to him, and they belong to him, and no one else.

But that doesn't change anything. He is the enemy. My enemy.

I fight him, and he is the first soldier I've fought that fights like me, entirely focused, completely trained, ready.

But I'm still stronger. He's disarmed. I hold his sword in my left hand and mine in my right. The soldier is against the wall, and the swords I hold are in an X at his throat. He puts his hands up in surrender and grins, as if nothing is wrong, as if I don't have the power to kill him if I want to.

"So," he says, and I can barely hear it over the sound of the battle behind me, "are you going to tell me your name before you kill me?"

I can't think of a reason to say no.

"My name is Eliza," I say, "and I'm not going to kill you."

I start to move on to the next soldier, but I hear, "Mine's Jonathan." I know that it's the soldier I just spoke with, the one I left disarmed. The one I can't forget. I ignore it and begin to fight again.

It doesn't take long for the Ice Kingdom to retreat, perhaps only an hour of fighting. But we all know what it means.

The war has begun.