Thirstfall - Memory of a Returnee

"Permafrost."

The cold takes the arena before the name finishes leaving Freya’s mouth.

Frost runs through the cracks in the floor and covers the marks Motorhead opened. The air loses its moisture all at once, turning every breath into a white trail. The ice wings behind her shoulders grow until they throw blue reflections against the barrier, while the scythe fuses to her hands under a crystalline layer wrapping the shaft.

My plans could suffer a small delay if Freya really means to come at us with everything this early.

The timing of the demonstration, the signal for Leona, control of the formation. None of it matters if I’m crushed before I can light anything.

I’ll solve this problem first.

The night I laid out the squad’s tactics, I never pictured Freya on the other side of the arena. Even so, I accounted for the possibility of Rahul hiring someone strong enough to isolate me from the rest of the group. An opponent who would demand all of my attention and keep me from choosing every movement of the team.

The answer still holds.

I only need to run it according to her movements.

Freya starts spinning the scythe.

The shaft slides across her ice-covered palm, passes behind her wrist, and changes hands without breaking the motion. The blade seems to multiply into pale circles in front of her body. Every rotation hides the point where the attack will start, and the momentum of one turn feeds the next.

The whole movement tells me there won’t be a pause between strikes that haven’t happened yet.

Kraken rises on its own to the center of my guard.

I close both hands around the grip. "Looks like you were hungry for a fight."

The sword vibrates between my fingers.

No time to work out whether that’s enthusiasm or a threat aimed at the scythe in front of us. I set my back leg, drop my center, and angle Kraken enough to cover head, shoulder, and center line.

Freya advances.

Her first stride breaks the ice under her foot. The second turns the scythe’s rotation into a descending strike.

The blade comes down carrying her whole body.

I raise Kraken on the diagonal.

Clang!

The impact crosses my arms and lands in my shoulders. My base falls apart in the same instant. My front foot slips on the frost, the back one loses its line, and I need three steps to keep from going down on my back.

Even then, my fists go numb at once.

Eventide would have blocked the blade, but the shock would have run straight through my wrists and collected the rest at the elbow. Kraken adjusts at the last instant. The sword’s weight shifts inside my hands, spreading the force along the length of the blade and steering part of it aside.

The strike is still heavy.

It just isn’t carrying the part that would have broken my arms.

I glance at Kraken on reflex.

The sword holds steady, the dark blue steel humming under the layer of ice already breaking apart along the edge.

Freya is on me again.

That last rotation never ended at the block. She used the rebound to swing the scythe under her arm, switched the hand driving the shaft, and brought the blade in on a lateral path toward my ribs.

I get Kraken in the way, but late.

The second impact shoves my whole body.

My heels scrape the floor, and the air tries to leave my lungs all at once. I lock my teeth, keep my core rigid, and let the force carry me until I find purchase again.

I can’t fight Freya and lead the squad at the same time.

’Damn it...’

Freya looks impatient, the scythe already coming back around for another turn when I open my hands.

Kraken leaves my control.

The sword spins through the air, completing the horizontal cut I considered during the block and abandoned to recover my posture. The movement comes out clean, fast, at the height of Freya’s torso.

She has to break her own sequence.

The scythe’s shaft comes to center and takes Kraken.

CLANG!

The shock detonates across the arena in a crack of steel.

Kraken ricochets, completes a full turn on its own axis, and comes back. The grip finds my right hand, and my left closes just below it.

All of it inside two seconds.

Freya gives ground by one foot, studying the sword more carefully. "Interesting toy you picked up today."

"Veric lent it to me. His family collects pretty toys."

The corner of her mouth moves, but the scythe keeps turning.

I don’t wait for her to resume the attack.

"Veric!" I shout, without taking my eyes off her. "You’ve got the lead! I have a meeting with a cold and impatient lady!"

A short laugh comes from the other side of the formation, cut off by the sound of Undertow taking a hit.

CLANG!

I hear metal scraping, footsteps changing direction, and Veric’s voice calling Rhayne to close the right side. A few seconds later, he answers.

"It’ll be a pleasure, you bastard!"

Another impact lands on his shield.

I don’t look.

Freya is waiting for exactly that. My eyes would only have to leave her for an instant, and the scythe would find a part of my body Kraken couldn’t reach.

From here, the formation belongs to Veric.

My job is to keep Freya busy.

She advances half a step, expecting me to fall back into defense.

This time I go first.

I gather OXI in my boots.

Pressure Step.

The floor detonates under my back foot.

I cross the first part of the distance before Freya finishes adjusting the scythe. She drops the blade, preparing an answer against my center line.

I fire again.

Pressure Step.

The second ignition takes me off center. I pass the edge of the scythe’s reach and force Freya to turn her hip to follow me. Kraken comes in close to my body, hiding the angle of the cut.

My front foot lands turned outward.

I drop my shoulder and let the sword’s point fall.

Freya reads a rising strike.

The scythe comes down to intercept.

Pressure Step.

The third ignition goes into the pivot.

My boot torques against the ice, my hip turns, and all the stored force runs through my legs, my trunk, and my shoulders until it reaches Kraken. The shout starts caught in my chest and grows as the sword opens the lateral arc.

The feint ends.

The cut arrives at rib height. Lateral, not rising.

Freya sees the change late.

She releases one hand, lets the shaft run between her fingers, and turns the scythe to put the blade in the path. The defense comes out improvised, without a clean base, her body still correcting the angle.

Kraken meets the ice.

The collision stops the world for an instant.

The sword’s dark blue energy compresses the air on one side. Permafrost’s cold advances from the other, coating Kraken’s blade before the pressure tears it away. The impact wave sweeps the frost around our feet into a perfect circle.

Ice fragments fire off against the barrier.

Freya’s wings spread.

Kraken vibrates down into the bones of my fingers.

Neither of us gives during that first instant.

Then the floor loses the argument. Cracks split open, and we’re thrown in opposite directions.

I land on one foot, but the momentum drags me backward. The second step doesn’t stop the movement either. I turn Kraken, drive the point into the floor, and hold the grip with both hands.

The sword tears through the arena while I slide.

Stone, ice, and dust open into a long furrow. My arms shake, and the blade only halts my body several feet later.

I lift my head.

Freya is flying toward the barrier.

She spins in the air and hits the ground with the scythe before she reaches it. The blade opens a crescent of ice across the floor, killing part of her speed. Even so, her body keeps sliding.

The wings expand.

What’s left of the momentum disappears in a burst of crystals.

Freya doesn’t fall.

The ice behind her shoulders condenses, leaving the wings longer and narrower. Cold currents begin turning around them, lifting the red strands of her hair and the fragments scattered across the field.

My HUD flickers.

[OXI: 2,454 / 2,500]

[Void Capacitor: 4%]

Three Pressure Steps and one strike have already fed Rhayne.

Four percent is still safe. The problem will be keeping that number low if Freya drags this duel out.

Kraken leaves the floor with a motion of its own and returns to my guard.

The sword seems pleased.

Across from me, Freya rips the scythe out of the stone.

The wings beat once.

Her body leaves the ground.

It isn’t a jump. The ice pushes her up and forward, suspending her above the arena while the Permafrost current closes around her silhouette. Her legs draw back, her torso tilts, and the scythe points directly at me.

For an instant, she looks mounted on her own storm.

A valkyrie riding a pegasus that exists only in the wings spread behind her.

The crowd recognizes the technique before I hear the name. The stands erupt, and the suspended screens pull in on the image of Freya hanging above the field.

Kraken moves between my hands.

I still don’t know whether it means to block, to attack, or to choose a third answer my body will discard at the last moment.

Freya raises the scythe.

"Pegasus Wrath."

The ice around the wings is pulled backward. The pressure builds in front of her, compressing the air into a line aimed at my chest.

Then Freya smiles.

There’s no cruelty on her face. She’s calm, and certain. To Freya, respect and mercy belong on different sides of a battle.

"I’ve actually come to like you, Dryden," she says. "That’s why you have to die today."

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