Bladewarriors Book 1: Refresh

Frost trudged back through town, dragging his feet through the thick layer of snow that covered the ground, Arctic Blade still slung over his shoulder. The teen's gloved hands were shoved snuggly in his pockets as he stared toward the snow in front of him, lost in a rare moment of deep concentration.

He had stormed out earlier, upset with his father, but he realized now that that had probably been the wrong thing to do. While it had certainly made him feel better, and he hadn't really wanted to continue that conversation, he was now faced with the equally unappealing task of meandering back into his home and facing the man again. He had hoped that, maybe, while he had been out training, the words he needed would come to him. But they hadn't. He still had no idea what to say to his dad.

The truth was that he was surprised at himself for what he had said. In all the time Frost had hid the sword away behind his clothes he had never once actually thought about using it to fight against The Leopard. But when his father had suddenly confronted him about giving the blade up, the teenager had suddenly blurted out those words foolishly. Rebelling against The Leopard had never occurred to him all those nights he had trained with the weapon – all those days he had hid it away. He had just wanted to be able to use it – to own one of the legendary Mystic Blades, and understand how it worked. He wanted to show off its power to his friends – to make people proud of his strength. But then he had shouted something stupid about fighting back against The Leopard.

A cold gust blew through the town, circling around the Artican boy as he continued to lumber down the village's main street. Frost shivered a bit – in his rush to leave, he hadn't bothered to grab his coat, or a proper pair of pants. It hadn't taken long for the extreme cold of the Ice Realm to overwhelm the anger and frustration he had had and force him to return.

Frost lifted his head, spying the icy structure that composed his home not too much further ahead, his mind replaying the argument he had hand within once more, still searching for the right words to say when he stepped back through that door. Again his thoughts focused on his own talk of rebelling. The teen wondered as he stared at the house, if that had been the real reason he had trained so hard. Maybe he had wanted to revolt against The Leopard. Or maybe he had just said it because it had sounded 'good' in the moment. Until he could figure out which of those alternatives was the truth, he wouldn't be able to find the right words to confront his father.

The Artican sighed, turning up the walkway to his front door, shaking his head helplessly. He didn't have any more time to think about it; he'd just have to figure out what to say in the thick of the moment. Frost lifted his head, reaching out to open the door as he grew close, and then paused.

The door was already open.

The icy panel stood ajar only a few inches, but Frost stopped instantly, alarmed as he stared at the small gap. There was no way anyone would allow the door to remain open for more than a brief moment. In the bitter cold of their realm, the only true way to survive was to trap the heat their bodies had evolved to emanate in a tightly sealed and enclosed structure. Leaving the front door ajar like that would be inviting the freezing temperatures inside. It would take days for the home to become a comfortable temperature again.

Frost steeled himself and stepped forward, pushing open the door.

"Dad?" He questioned no one in particular as he stepped through the doorway. "Eira?"

There was no answer as he walked into the home. He realized instantly that it was as piercingly cold inside the house as it was outside – maybe even more so. He frowned, pushing the door shut behind him.

"You guys here?" he asked no one again, stepping further inside. He wondered if they had both left and accidentally forgotten to make sure the door was completely closed. But he didn't wonder for long.

"I'm afraid they're not here."

Frost spun toward the living room at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, eyes falling upon a strange man sitting on their couch. The man's face was an icy blue color, and his eyes a deep black. He wore a thick parka of some sort, lined on the inside with thick fur that seemed to push out from beneath the hood and sleeves. A similarly designed pair of pants masked the man's crossed legs as he leaned forward, grinning in a way that sent a chill down the Arctican's spine. The smile seemed friendly enough, but the way this stranger was staring at him made the teenager uncomfortable.

"Who are?" Frost demanded, eyeing the intruder with distrust. "What did you do with my family!?"

"Nothing. They're fine." The stranger replied, then nodded to the door. "Would you mind opening that back up? It's a little warm in here."

"I'd rather it was closed." Frost spat back, narrowing his eyes. "Where are my dad and my sister!?"

"I told you, they're fine." The man stood, stretching as he got to his feet. "I sent them ice fishing. I wanted to talk with you one on one – mano-a-mano."

Frost glupped, gaze still fixated on the unnerving stare that was emanating from this trespasser's eyes. He wasn't sure if he wanted to ask his next question.

"…Who are you?"

"My name is Kylma." The stranger answered, nodding politely as he introduced himself. "And you're Frost, correct?"

"I am…" Frost answered. His body began to tense as the conversation continued, expecting something more than words to eventually come from this man. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to talk to you." Kylma answered, grinning creepily once more.

"What for?" Frost asked the question, but he was pretty sure he already knew the answer, the weight of his weapon not allowing him to forget that he was carrying The Mystic Blade of Ice.

"For that." The trespasser lifted an arm, pointing a clawed finger toward the blade hanging on the Arctican's back – just as Frost had thought. As he stared at the sharp dagger that protruded from the man's finger, he felt his second suspicion was also dead on.

"You're The Leopard… aren't you?"

The stranger burst into a fit of laughter, bending forward slightly as he shook his head.

"Me?" he questioned between chuckles. "I thank you for the compliment, but no. I'm not The Leopard. The Leopard is far too busy to attend to this matter personally. So he has sent me in his stead."

Frost felt a bit of his panic dissipate at that news. He had been pretty sure that, if this man were The Leopard he'd have a very short amount of life remaining. But if this creature was just one of The Leopard's lackeys… he just might stand a chance.

"So you want me to hand over this sword, then, I take it?" Frost grinned as he reached up to pull the Arctic Blade from it's sheathe.

"You can hand it over, or I can simply take it from you." Kylma shrugged indifferently. "It really matters very little to me, in the end."

The fair-haired teen paused, turning his eyes away from this strange humanoid creature and toward the mythical weapon grasped in his hands. The icy structure of the sword's blade gleamed in the light, blurring the world as he stared through it. The power of a god was said to be forged into the weapon, and legend had it that it had once defeated The Leopard and his lackeys. But was standing against The Leopard and his army of beasts really what he wanted to do?

Frost raised his head as he stepped forward, twisting the sword to lay flat in the palms of his hands as he held it out toward the trespasser. "I'm no fool…"

The intruder grinned that same disturbing grin and moved forward. "And here I'd heard you were. Guess what they say is true: 'don't believe everything you hear.'"

Frost lowered his eyes, resting them on the blade once more. He knew what people thought of him – that he was a lazy dolt. That he was a troublemaker. That he was an idiot. He had a knack for getting into trouble, and he had a gift for creating problems where there were none before. The incident with Mrs. Yule's bra, and the icy spears he had lodged in her husband's roof was only one of the many examples. He wasn't even sure he could keep track of all the pranks he'd pulled, and all the accidents he had stumbled into. The people of Lumi whispered about him, even his own friends at times. So he wasn't surprised that word had spread of his foolishness. He was the town fool.

Frost grinned as the man became close, twisting his head up quickly. In the same motion he spun the blade around, slashing out at the blue-skinned stranger with the weapon. As the sword sliced through the air, an icy wave emanated outward, flying toward the intruder. Only a fool would choose to stand against The Leopard and his army – especially alone. Which is why he had no choice. He had his reputation to think of, after all.

"Or maybe I am!" Frost yelled as the stranger stepped back, avoiding the weapon's slash, but not the wave of ice that followed. "Either way, I'm not handing over this sword to the likes of you!"

The icy energy wrapped around Kylma, building up a thick layer of ice that encased his arms and chest. The intruder stumbled backwards, staring down at the icy bonds that now held him… and smiled.

"Well, that was kind of you." Kylma closed his eyes, taking in a long, deep breath. As the stranger inhaled, the ice around him began to shrink. Frost's first thought was that the man was causing it to melt, but there was no water dripping down to the ground. The ice was simply vanishing. The freak was absorbing it straight into his body!

"I was getting rather warm in here, after all." Kylma grinned again as he opened his eyes and let out the long breath. "So thank you."

Frost gasped quietly, staring in disbelief as the trespasser stretched out his arms, appearing even more at ease than he had a moment ago. He clenched his teeth, tightening his grip on his sword as he twisted the point of it towards the ground.

"No problem!" The teen shouted as he thrust the blade downward. "Have another!"

The Artic Blade easily slid into the ice floor, piercing the surface as if it weren't even there, stopping only as its hilt hit the ground. As it entered the ice, a point appeared just below Kylma, quickly jutting up and growing as the Mystic Blade plunged downward. As the Arctic Blade halted, so did this point, culminating in a massive blade nearly six times the width and length of the edge that had pierced the ground. The massive blade of ice encased the trespasser, stretching up through the roof, and surrounding him entirely. Frost grinned, staring at the frozen creature.

"Not bad."

Frost's eyes widened as the man in the ice spoke, the massive blade beginning to shrink and be pulled into his flesh just like before.

"But that sort of trick isn't going to work on me." The blue-skinned man grinned as the massive icy blade was quickly pulled into his being, leaving no trace.

"I appreciate the show, though." The trespasser grinned, raising a hand to point a finger at the young warrior's hands. "Allow me to return the spectacle."

Frost screamed as a sharp pain shot through his right palm. He pulled it back, away of his sword as he left it resting in the ground, cradling the hand against his chest. The searing pain didn't stop, even as Kylma lowered his arm, leaving Frost gripping at his palm as if it were lodged in the jaws of a wolf.

The teenager reached down, stripping the glove from his right hand to try and discover what the stranger had done. As he pulled the cloth from his hand, his eyes widened in disbelief at what lay beneath; what could only be described as fangs of his own frozen blood were lodged in his hand.

"What is this!?" Frost screeched, thinking aloud more than really seeking an answer.

"That is my power." Kylma replied, forcing Frost to raise his eyes to stare at the strange beast.

"The Leopard has gifted me with many things." The blue-skinned man continued, raising a hand to lower the hood of his jacket. As the hood fell, Frost saw that the thick white fur he had assumed to be part of the parka was actually the man's hair – or more accurately, his fur.

"You're a Yeti…" the words slipped from Frost's mouth before the teen had even realized it.

"Was." Kylma corrected. "I've evolved far beyond the primitive nature and brutish strength of my former kinsmen, thanks in large part to the blessings of my lord, The Leopard."

"What is this, then?" Frost repeated the question, this time actually looking for an answer as he raised the injured hand.

"My power." The stranger replied with a grin. "Another gift from my lord. I call it 'Frost Bite'."

The stranger paused a moment, looking away, and then began to laugh.

"Never more fitting a name for it than right now, I suppose." The man chuckled, pointing toward the young warrior on the ground. "Seeing as your name is Frost and all? And it 'bit' you? 'Frost Bite"? Don't you get it?"

"Hilarious." Frost replied through clenched teeth. Normally he probably would have been laughing right alone with this guy, but the pun somehow lost its charm when he was the butt of the joke.

"If that's all you've got, though…" Frost reached over and pulled the Arctic Blade free of the ground with his uninjured hand, forcing himself to stand, "then I still don't think I need to be worried."

"Oh really?" Kylma tilted his head slightly to the side in interest. "You sure of that?"

The trespasser threw up a hand, this time pointing toward the young warrior's stomach. Frost leapt to the side, hoping to dodge the magic, but as the piecing pain gripped his abdomen, he realized it had been a pointless gesture.

The teen screamed as he crashed to the ground, wrapping both arms around his stomach as he felt the frozen fangs of his own blood bore through his flesh and organs. He coughed, a few drops of blood flying from his mouth to freeze instantly against the ground.

"Dodging really doesn't do anything." The creature stated, barely audible to Frost through the cacophony of pain that was filling his mind. "The pointing is really just for show, after all."

Frost grimaced, turning his head up slightly as the strange man's feet came into view, trying to look up at the bastard's head. The blue face stared down at him, frowning slightly, seeming suddenly less joyful and creepy.

"I was really hoping for more from a Mystic Bladesman." Kylma sighed, shaking his head. "You were barely worth using that power on! I feel like I wasted it…"

Frost closed his eyes, turning his head down, trying to mentally will the pain to go away, but it didn't. He tried foolishly to lift himself up, only receiving a sharp stabbing feeling in his stomach whenever he moved before collapsing back to the ground.

"Don't worry, little boy." Kymla sighed again, lifting a hand toward the ceiling. The ice that made up its surface twisted downward, forming into a series of sharp, lethal icicles. "I won't make you suffer any more. I'll put you out of your misery."

Kylma took a step back, staring down at the pathetic excuse for a Bladesman. After all the stories he had been told of the power that boy's weapon was said to possess, he had hoped he might be treated to an epic battle of skill. Instead the warrior was more like a child swinging a stick. He had hoped, for once, to have an opponent worthy of the incredible gifts The Leopard had bestowed down upon him. A shame.

Kylma threw his hand down, and with it, the ceiling of deadly ice crashed down onto the boy, taking with it the layers of snow and ice that had built up atop the structure. A cloud of snow was kicked up by the miniature avalanche, filling the room. Kylma waved it away, staring at the mound of snow and ice that rested where that boy had just been. He suddenly sighed and shook his head.

"I still need that sword…"

Lamenting his rash decision to crush the boy in ice, the trespasser leaned down and began to search the snow for the boy's remains and the Mystic Blade they would hold.