The Ice Artist

I am Akaton, scratching out my last memories in my home today. The writing is not hard, nor must I rush, so I shall go into detail of just why I’m leaving. Events started today and ended today. I see enough the path to take; however, I do not see what dangers this path is or where to go after I end my own path. Hopefully the Elemental I meet at the end of my travels is my father and he shall know exactly know what to do after that. Regardless however, I must digress to record my memories of this last day at my home; not long it will stay known as such.

This morning was when it all started, when I stood in front of my obsidian mirror. I had spent the night carving, and just wanted to examine myself afterwards. It gives me a perspective of what I don’t make since it is all that is seen in the world of ice. My people harbor such a deep seeded hatred for the other elementals that nothing can be angular, nor can it be carved of ice. Only stone, to insult the earth elementals, and only angular to assure it looks none other than us. I use curves and angles to assume a perfect form, and use ice as a testament to ourselves, not as an insult to others. I do not find the need to assure that we our superior, I do not understand any of it at all. Truly I am lucky that what I do is not against the law, despite the ravings of Dai since their resurgence into power. It doesn’t stop them from harassing me when they desire to.

This day was one of those days, but that was later. The reason for the harassment this day stood behind me, watching me silently. I did not see her now, my own mind concerned with my own form now. As much as I liked curves, I also liked myself a great deal. I enjoyed striking poses that are not exactly proper in my society. One hand against my upper thigh, covered by what my companion calls a skirt, and with a small pelvic thrust forwards, I smiled my one way to myself. Posing as such caused the intruder to just giggle wildly, meaning no harm on my movements and just finding it silly. I however was scared, spinning round to see who was there. A pink-fleshed soft stared at me, wrapped in brown furs. She looked at me, innocent touch to her face.

Not that I understood that innocent touch. The only thing that stood out for me was the fact that someone had invaded my home. I rushed at her, my ice feet causing echoes in my ice house. She almost immediately went down into a crouch, whimpering to herself as she held her hands over her head. She looked down as she muttered “Dwaj, Dwaj.” I didn’t really hear it until I got closer, fists clenched and ready, at which point I stop. I knew what that meant. “Stop, stop,” Was its translation from the Western ice language. That could be a random whistle, or a real showing of an understanding of language. I slowed down in front of her, sliding to a halt at which my legs gently bumped into her quivering mass of soft.

Hazarding a glance, she looked up into my face and only saw a hand offered to help her up. She blinked before placing her hand in my much larger one. I didn’t realize how much until I saw it, stunning me for a second. Quickly shaking it off, I helped her up as I stared at her. She did not wait to make another whistle, “Heesh.” “Thanks,” it was, I knew that much. Suddenly glad for my knowledge of the western ice language, I decided to give her a quick lesson on what she assumed was a universal ice language.

“I speak of the north. You know north?” was my simple question, not wanting to startle her unduly nor waste my breath if she did not.

Hesitation was her first response, but she finally spoke, “Yes. North speak. You speak. I speak. Understand.” I looked at her for a moment. I didn’t know whether to laugh or pity her. She however flickered her eyes over to my many pieces of art, thinking that our understanding gave her entitlement to staring at my various pieces of works. I didn’t mind it in the least in reality, even if I shooed people way with the words “this isn’t a public gallery.” It was just annoying for a loner like me to deal with guests. However this one guest drew my eyes to her with her difference from everything around me. Warm body in a cold space, something that I knew could not last long. Either the cold would sap the warmth from the body or the warmth would overwhelm the cold.

I am… a void when it comes to cold. We produce cold from a special water we call the “life water” which grows eventually into a full grown elemental. The Life water is also the core of a Water Elemental, except not frozen. Only us few males have the ability to produce life water, the female simply serving as a place to have the Life water slowly form while not harming the host. I watch her, the soft moving in between the various strange carvings in the ice. Few of my kind dared to shape ice in anything other than statues of our crystalline forms. I however dared to create curved lines with straight, going to make things I saw in the world.

Life Water made me think of my mother and how long it had been since she was killed. It was hard to kill another elemental, mostly we just changed each other’s forms, but it was possible. She had been a respected Dai, a white clear ice of the highest class who took my father, an Aka, as her husband. The appall of the higher classes were clear, even if an Aka, me, was the step below Dai. It was simply not done. So they killed her after I was born and blamed my father. Like he would ever hurt her. It was true though nobody believed it, just the blame of higher classes was enough to drive him into exile.

She finally came back over to me, looking up at me. She spoke in her stuttered whistles, “I cold. Go home. Bye…” She slipped away, myself watching the soft creature leave. They were deceptive, I knew, it was quite beyond me how something so, what’s the word, cute, destroys so much of the world with its hands. Still, I knew it was their lot in life as a soft and I could not blame them.

“I’m Akaton. Come back whenever you want,” I told her. She turned back and gave me a smile. I did my best to mimic, which was hard when your face is made of straight lines. She giggled before leaving in a run. I nodded in the direction one more time as she disappeared out the door. With a murmur, I went back to my mirror, watching myself in it for the next for moment.

“Akaton…” Came from a corner, a blue form pulling itself from the wall. The glacier I had cut my home into was blue, like him. Hiding. “Akaton,” The other Aka said with a wagging finger. I looked at him and suddenly saw the glinting metal of the badge. He was an enforcer, or she really. She wore no skirt, an indicator that should have been obvious. “You shouldn’t have done that,” She says, sliding into a fighting posture.

“So, waiting for a weak excuse for the white’s to execute their ‘bastard’ son?” I said, not sliding into the fighting posture. Instead, I back up slowly from the mirror. It was too much a danger, it was heavy enough to crush either of us if it fell. I did not want to be the one under it, and there was always reason. “You are like me, why do you serve them and their arrogant wills?” I asked, my hands clenching fists. One knuckle out, just like my father taught me.

“Shut up!” She screams before rushing at me, lunging at me with a head butt. It was hard these days to get proper fighting training, I knew. I twisted around, slamming a fist into her side. I hear a crunch as her ice shatters, her twisting form sprawling away from me. She gets up quickly, brushing the shattered ice out of her side. “Haven’t seen someone defend themselves in a while,” The assassin mentions, suddenly snapping an icicle from my ceiling, nearly three feet long and throwing it at me. I was already moving by the time it slid towards me through the air. Rolling under it and skidding across the icy floor, I knock her legs out from under her and cause her to smash against the floor as I halt myself and stand.

“Too slow,” I mention, turning around to take a hit across the arm and side. My elbow shatters as well as part of my back. But I hold my ground, launching a fist into her stomach; the victory making her numb to the fact I could still retailate. I still had one good arm. The hit shattered the major part of the stomach and sent her skidding backwards, straight into the mirror. She was still standing though, injured.

“Come on!” Came a cry, as I ripped my useless forearm off and flung it at the top of the mirror. She laughed as I missed her by a mile, my arm slicing through an icicle holding up my mirror. Then there was a crack as the obsidian mirror fell, a sinking realization hitting the face of the assassin as she moved forwards. It fell on her, smashing everything but her head. That was too much, she was dead; her central life water had been smashed. I took one of the few breaths of my life, the pain flooding into me as I clenched my arm and staggered towards the outside. I couldn’t stay here, once they learned she had failed, I would find myself with new friends. In a sense.

I did know at least know where I had an ally. Just to find it now…