The Great War Prologue (5): Ocean Blue
Cold wind blows over gentle waves...
“Why are we out here?” Mathew asks his siblings. Anya, his older sister, and Ingum, his younger brother, are dressed in their bright blue Ice robes that their mother made for them. Mathew has one as well, but he almost never wears it.
The three stand along the grey rocky coast of Gardall, just a short walk from their forest cabin home. A cold wind blows across the expanse of water, wrapping around their bodies and stinging any exposed skin. Though thanks to the Ice magic that flows through his veins, Mathew doesn’t mind the chill.
He tugs at the brown leather vest he wears over a simple white t-shirt - he makes him feel much more comfortable in the island’s cold environment - with fur lined boots cushioning his feet and a pair of pants dyed dark blue. He also brought his training sword with him, which hangs from a simple belt scabbard. There’s no real reason for him to bring along the dull blade, but at least it makes him feel just a little safer away from home.
“Mother taught us how to freeze water last cycle,” Ingum replies cheerfully, bouncing up and down eagerly.
Anya just lets out a long sigh. “She taught you how to freeze water.”
“Well, you’re older!”
Mathew can’t help but smile awkwardly. He doesn’t know how hard it can be to freeze water compared to the other simpler uses of Ice magic. The only thing he remembers how to do off the top of his head is how to make icicles. “That sounds… great?”
Ingum turns back to him with a bright grin. “It is great! Look!”
His little brother walks up to the edge of the ocean, where the waves come up on shore to wet the pebbles. He extends his hands out in front of him slowly, his shoulders rising and falling heavily as he breathes.
Cold mist fades into view around Ingum’s fingers, swirling and shimmering in the midcycle light. A moment later, the water that approaches Ingum’s shoes freezes, leaving behind a small chunk of blue-white ice about as big as his palm.
Mathew can’t help but let out a gasp of surprise and awe.
“That’s amazing…” he breathes aloud.
Anya laughs next to him. “You can always learn how to do it, too, Mathew.”
That makes Mathew frown to himself. Learning how to use magic is harder than learning how to use a sword, in his opinion. Plus, he just doesn’t have the same level of magic talent like his other siblings. Making a single icicle alone is enough to make him pass out.
“I’d probably die first before ever learning how to freeze the ocean,” Mathew sighs back.
“Don’t be like that,” Anya says, patting his shoulder encouragingly. “You just need to spend a few cycles practicing. It’s like learning your swordplay with father. I can’t lift a sword like you can.”
“You just don’t have the arm strength,” Mathew dismisses.
Anya just smiles at him and replies, “That’s because I don’t practice holding a sword.”
“Did you see?” Ingum calls to them from the shore. Three more ice chunks lay at his feet, all roughly the same size as each other. He beams at his two older siblings proudly as his accomplishment.
Anya gives him a round of applause. “You’re getting much better, Ingum!”
“How much can you freeze?” Ingum asks slyly.
Anya cracks her knuckles and steps down to the shore. “Watch and learn, brother.”
She steps farther down the shore, to the point where her boots are submerged by the ocean tide when it rushes onto the pebbles. Taking a deep breath, shoulders sagging, she waves a single hand down at the water sharply. A sharp snap! rushes through the air, followed by the crackle of ice.
Anya now stands surrounded by a ring of ice, spreading out as far as her arms can extend, floating atop the water. She turns to Ingum and shoots him a soft smile of superiority. Ingum stands frozen in place, his mouth agape.
“Don’t worry,” she assures him with a light chuckle. “You’ll be able to do this, too, if you keep practicing.”
“No fair! You’re older!” Ingum complains.
“Children?”
The call rings out from the trees behind Mathew. The three siblings pause and turn to the forest.
“We’re at the shore, father!” Mathew is the one to yell back. Down by the ocean, Anya and Ingum trudge back to the treeline, leaving their ice creations behind. Anya’s ice circle is pushed up next to Ingum’s chunks now that Anya isn’t there to keep it in place.
Their father emerges from the forest not long after Mathew’s reply. Unlike their mother, who is a wizard born and bred, their father is a hardened sailor and brilliantly skilled swordsman. He’s got a slight squint to his eyes from years of sailing on open water, and deep laugh lines from the jokes and stories he’s heard and told.
He cracks a wide grin upon seeing his three children lined up at the border of the forest, where dirt turns to rock.
“What are you three doing all the way out here?” he asks.
“Me and Anya were showing Mathew how to freeze water!” Ingum speaks first, gesturing proudly to the ice on the shore behind them. Their father’s gaze flickers from the children to the frozen ocean water behind them only once.
“I see…” he hums, neither impressed nor disapproving. “Well, your mother is making lunch.”
“What is it?” Mathew asks.
“Poptops.”
“Yes!” Ingum yells.
“Does she need any help?” Anya asks.
Their father shakes his head. “She should be done by the time we return.”
“I want the first one!” Ingum declares, bolting off through the trees.
“Ingum!” Anya yells, dashing after him. “Don’t run off by yourself!”
And so Mathew is left standing with his father down by the ocean, cold breeze rustling his hair.
“How’s sparing after lunch sound?” his father asks.
Mathew turns to look back at the ocean. The ice his siblings made is slowly starting to melt, the edges of the frozen chunks of water shimmering with water droplets. He can’t ever see himself learning how to do something like that.
Will they be able to walk across the ocean one cycle? Won’t that be fun to do?
“Sure,” he replies with a long sigh, lost in his thoughts.
His father rests a hand on Mathew’s shoulder and stands next to him, his gaze set on the horizon in the far distance.
“One day, son,” he speaks, “you’ll sail this ocean just like I did.”
Mathew nods, raising his gaze from the melting ice to the water beyond. The ocean flows on endlessly. Ice, on the other hand, always melts.
“Come,” his father says, giving Mathew a sharp pat on his back, “let’s get you some food.”