A lessen of ice

Written by Jens Beckstrøm

Ruben was back in the library. It was a quiet day, so when his granddaughter Rubi, who was so lovingly named after him came by, he laid aside the droll scroll he was working on and called for some refreshments. While the servants were fetching sweet fruits and cool water, he led Rubi up to the roof balcony. It had a wonderfull view o overlooking the harbor. Like the Durante mansion, the librairy was built on one of the seven hills surrounding the city. The scholar's library in particular was situated apart from the rest of the Sovella by natural barriers and high walls, all to protect the valuable scrolls and tomes from proximity to the city. Rubi moved to stand by the railing with him looking at the ships coming and going. A mix or square and slanted masts a reminder of world growing more interconnected. A fresh breeze ruffled her dark curly hair, and his grey beard was dancing in the wind. On such a warm day the wind was a blessing.
Rubi twirled around and confronted him “What will you teach me today grandpa?”
She was beaming, the last time they had worked with fire. She had some skill in that, which did not surprise him. She had managed to light a candle in the end, which was not an easy feat for most. Magic did not come easy to common folks, although it ran in his bloodline. She did have a decent aptitude, wich was to be expected. It was rare for nobles to not master a base level of aptitude and understanding. Still, he could not help being a little proud.
“Ha ha ha ha, eager as always, are you never sated?”
“NEVER! And who better to teach me, you know everything!” She danced a little around him.
“Everything? HA ha ha, oh I hardly know a thing child.
After a long moment she turned to him again, “Last time was fire, now teach me ice!
Ruben shuddered at that and felt cold. “No, not ice.” She looked quizzical at that.
“Frost magic, never try it… a few seek it out of curiosity after seeing the beauty of first snow, but it is not a magic you will like. It is also a magic very few have an affinity for. Fire is so much easier. Fire, the essence of fire is life, it wants to grow, it wants to live, fire is warmth. It dances with joy. To understand fire magic you draw upon the warmth of your body. Or you can summon the spirit of fire. The elusive Sidhae are proficient at summoning fire spirits within their enchanted forests."
"Like yesteday?" she asked, a look of quiet disbelief at being denied a token of knowledge.
"What you learned yesterday was to draw upon your own heat. The way to summoning fire spirits take years of practise for the most skilled." He rubbed his bald skalp at the sight of his exasperated grandchild. He knew her nature, she would not let this rest. He would have to make this a lesson to remember, with a great sight he sat down and took a sip of water from the cup the servants had filled earlier. She sat down eagerly, sensing that she had won. "To understand frost magic" he began, she was now leaning forward fully intent.
"You let the warmth of life fade away. Ice is death, it robs the world of life, and it’s so cold, so very cold. It can be beautiful, the wonder of a snowflake, light glimmering in clear ice, but to understand ice you have to feel the cold, and bring it into your soul, and you will never look on the world the same again. Ice kills the dance and robs joy. Or worse, one could force the spirits of fire away, and what's left is an unberable cold that chilles to the bone.”
There was another aspect to frost magic, but that was better left unsaid.
“I met a Sidhe frost sorcerer once, up in the frozen Rudai lands. To this very day his eyes haunt me, the sadness in those eyes chills me every time I remember. Once he was one of the Sidhe, the warm and dancing and beautiful folk of the deep woods. Yet now he is as pale as the snow he walked on, and there was no warmth. An unearthly cold beauty he was to behold, and a terrible sadness to know.”
Rubi had never felt true cold though, and he would never allow her to experiment on frost magic alone, Isbrenna was such a good example of how horribly wrong that could end. He would have to let her experience this in such a way that she would lose all interest. He walked over to the table under the sun sail and sat down.
“I will never teach you frost magic my dear Rubi, but I can show you what true cold is.”
She sat down next to him and looked at him like he was stupid, “I know what cold is gramps!”
He gave as sight, “Poor me a cup of water please”. The well they drew the water from in the library was pleasantly chill, and the sweating clay cups kept it cool. “Would you say that his is cold then?”
She dipped a finger in the water and nodded, “that’s cold, and it's also cold when you come up from the sea in the night when the wind is blowing.”
He shook his head, “that is a mindl gentle cold, i will show you what true cold is, I will show you frost.” At that she craned forward as to see better what he did, not that it would help.
He had to calm down for this; he held his hands around the cup, without touching it and started to extend his senses into the unseen. It was a different method from what he had taught Rubi, but one familiar to the Sidhe. He breathed in the warm air and felt it move, felt it join his blood and caress his body. It was a warm tingling sensation, and very pleasant. This he had learned from the Sidhe. The next part he had learned from Isbrenna, and it was the hard part, he felt the warm energy inside of him, pleasant and enriching, and then he pushed it away gently. It was a horrible feeling, instinctively he wanted to end it, but he persevered. He exhaled slowly, his breath showing as a cold mist. As he did he guided the frost down his hands and out towards the cup. Within moments ice started to form in the cup, and frosty mist drifted over the surface.
Rubi leaned forward and extended a finger to probe it. “DONT!” She quickly retracted it. She stared awestruck as the water turned to ice, and was startled when the clay cup cracked from the expansion of the ice trapped within. Ruben could not bear it any longer and released his hold on the magic. The lingering feeling of cold was dreadful.
“Gramps? Are you alright, you are so pale…
”He nodded, “do you remember my explanation of frost magic? “ She nodded, this time she appeared to really take it to hart. “You can touch it now, that is ice” she touched it and flinched “go on, pick it up, feel what true cold is, see if you can heat it like you lit the candle”
She lifted it up gingerly, and the clay crumbled in her hands, the brittle clay was good for keeping drinks cool, but not for this. “It burns gramps, and I can't hear it, it only gets colder in my hands” she was visibly struggling, she was prideful, but she couldn't hold on to it any longer and let it go. “I hurts”
"Now imagine that all over, all inside you, that is how I feel now. And you can't heat it like you learned yesterday, it’s much too cold. I will not teach you this, others have died from lesser feasts.” He remembered Isbrennas tale, his feat was great and terrible, and it made him a kin slayer, an exile and so dreadfully sad. To survive had changed him wholy, both bodily and in spirit.
After Rubi had left he sat on the roof for a long time, meditating and drawing the fire spirits in, mending the heat he had lost. He hoped he would never have to feel such chill again. Rubi would never again ask for ice, he had rarely seen her so frightened. And for good reason to, frost was death.