The ice shattered. A long crack formed, rumbling like a peel of thunder. The ice shattered, breaking off into large plates. Icy water sprayed up into the air. The creature beneath the surface sounded a war-cry. The men stood, paralyzed, and quaking in fear. The Orc-eel was two times larger than normal whales and triply as terrifying. Elric’s eyes darted all over the ice—he did not see Gareth. Elric clutched his chest, his heart skipping a beat. Had Garethfallen in?

Elric’s fears were answered when Gareth emerged into sight. He was hidden beneath the belly of the giant slimy eel but he shimmied his way out. Somehow the ice was holding, despite the dangerous cracks and plates of ice that had broken apart from the creature’s emphatic rise from the depths.

Gareth was frantic, trying to put as much distance as he could between himself and the roaring Orc-eel. He needed time to plan his approach before he could gut the beast with his sword. He was surprised to see that it had four stubby legs. The old legends always said that the Orc-eel was a long slimy eel with a thick body the size of a whale. The legends were not far off, but the stubby legs on the creature were surprising. One feature that was told correctly from the stories was the set of razor-sharp teeth. Each tooth was about three feet in length and sharpened to a point like a sword. The creature thrashed around, slobber covering the ice around it. Its teeth chomped down hungrily as it reared its head and tried to figure out who was going to be its next meal. Its eyes were small and black. All considered, its appearance was terrifying.

Gareth had found refuge behind a rock until he could catch his breath. He tried to take in the situation, deciding to climb to the top of the rock to shout orders. The men were determined to hear Gareth’s orders despite the chaos and fear around them.

“Spears and hooks!” shouted Gareth. He was getting his own crossbow situated around his chest. The wooden crossbeam lay across his back. His sword sat loosely in his scabbard at his hip. The crossbow had been conveniently slid across the ice to him by Elric.

“Tie the ropes!” shouted Gareth. Men busied themselves tying the coil ropes they had brought around their waist and then around the ends of their spears, harpoons, and hooks. The idea was to have one hundred men on all sides of the creature, latching their spears into the creature and pulling as hard as they could. That would ensure the creature could not move in any direction. Gareth wondered if they should have tied the ropes around the rocks that rose above the ice, but there were simply not enough rocks. They had planned this for months ahead of time and they would have to stick to that plan down to the finest detail if they were to succeed.

Men finished tying the ropes. Gareth glanced around. All eyes were on him. He locked eyes with Elric, who gave him a nod. Elric also had a crossbow in hand. They had agreed beforehand that whoever had the best shot would take it. Elric leapt down from his rock to land on the ice. He nearly slipped, but quickly steadied himself. Other men doubled up on the rocks, desperate to be off of the cracking ice. Elric and Gareth were the only ones on the ice now.

“Hold…steady!” shouted Gareth. He slowly sidestepped towards the front of the beast. It released a mighty roar. Spittle sprayed Gareth and the wind of its breath blew his shaggy hair back. Gareth squinted his eyes and held a forearm up to protect his face. Elric took the rear position, prepared to distract the beast if needed. Even better, he might be able to find the chink in its scales and take the fatal shot. Gareth edged slowly towards the creature.

Gareth raised his hand to the air, fingers counting down from three, two, one. When the last finger went down he waved his hand. “Now!” He followed it up with a shout, “Release!”

A look of determination was spread across Gareth’s face. His men, inspired by Gareth’s brazen approach, launched their spears and hooks. Most latched on. Some didn’t. Its scales were thick and jutted up from its body so that if the men got their hooks to catch just right, it would stay. The Orc-eel thrashed and flailed, greatly irritated by the hooks and spears that were piercing its body. A few men were yanked from their rocks–scrambling to recover their position. The orc-eel was like a huge snake with a wide torso.

The creature let out another roar. This time, the sheer volume of its spine-chilling scream caused another crack to appear all throughout the ice. The sound set all men on alert.

“The ice is cracking!” some shouted.

“It’ll hold,” muttered Gareth.

The orc-eel was large and menacing, but it was also slow. It began to slowly crawl along the ice towards Gareth, aligning perfectly with Gareth’s plan.

“Yeah—come here you big stupid beast!” shouted Gareth. He waved his sword around as he would to an opponent on the battlefield. The Orc-eel screeched another shrill scream. Men pulled on the hooks. The Orc-eel pulled itself back a pace. Another screech filled the frosty air.

Elric lined up his crossbow. He could see a small chink in its scales right where its underbelly blended into its side. The scales were lined up in a consistent pattern except for one little spot where there was some soft pink skin showing. Elric squinted his eyes. He could hardly see. Flurries were coming down and a cold wind blew into his eyes, causing them to water. Thud! The steel bolt slammed into the orc-eel’s side. It missed the weak spot. He lined up another bolt. Gareth continued taunting the creature. It turned its head. The bolt had annoyed Orc-eel enough to give Elric its full attention. Thud! Another miss. Elric had brought five bolts with him and he was now down to three left. The Orc-eel started to turn. The men with spears and hooks struggled to keep it contained, but it was working. The creature found itself bound by the strength of ninety-eight men pulling from all directions.

Just as Elric was lining up his third shot, he froze. Gareth froze as well. The Orc-eel was preparing to shake its entire body like a cat. There was a layer of ice and frost still coating the creature submerged underneath the ice. Now it was going to shake and contort its body until all the hooks, spears, and frost was off of its scales.

Gareth and Elric lined up shots as fast as they could. The creature shook and flailed. Thirty men from the far side were launched overhead. They still had their ropes tied at the waist so they were at the mercy of the creature. Their hooks were still firmly embedded in its scales. The creature shook again. More men were flung through the air like dolls. The creature suddenly stopped. It stopped its neck low to the surface of the ice, appearing as though it might vomit. But then, a far worse realization dawned on them. This was not an Orc-eel…“Draaaagooonnnn!” shouted Gareth. “It’s a bloody dragon!”

The dragon unsheathed its wings, fluttering them to shake off all of the ice. The black scales had blended the wings right in, allowing them to remain unnoticed. The dragon was thawing now. It was only a matter of time before it was able to huff out fire or ice. Gareth did not know. Dragons weren’t supposed to exist. At least, not anymore. They were old myths. Stories.

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Gareth broke into a sprint, going straight toward the dragon. The dragon was preoccupied. The hooks and spears were still clinging to its side, irritating it. Gareth ran up the side of the dragon, losing his crossbow in the process, and using the protruding scales as footholds. He ran along its back and then found himself at its neck with his sword in hand. Elric cued in, realizing now was the time to go for it. He ran closer, coming from the dragon’s blindside. The weak spot was right there—he saw it. He placed the bolt in its spot on the crossbow and came to a halt on the ice, three yards away.

“Forget this,” said Elric to himself. The crossbow took too long to set. He put the bow down and grabbed his sword. He was going to pierce the dragon with the tip of his sword. Before he could do so, he felt a jolt of sharp pain and the wind was knocked out of him. The dragon had reared its wing back and slammed it into Elric from behind. He went flying. He slid along the ice, landing right where Gareth had been moments prior.

Gareth was on top of the dragon’s neck and head, struggling to stay balanced. He lifted his sword high into the air, preparing for the deadly blow. The dragon shook its head angrily. Gareth nearly fell off but a strong hand grabbed at one its protruding scales from its neck. He pulled himself back up.

The dragon had charged up a deep-bellied charge of ice. Ice dragon. It turned its head at the largest cluster of men that it saw and fired an icy-hot charge of arctic blast. Thirty men were frozen in an instant. Gareth saw them frozen inside a huge ball of ice like a fossil. He must kill this beast before he lost more men. Adrenaline took over. He got on top of the dragon’s head. It shook and yanked its head around like a rope but Gareth was secured tightly with both hands, his belly low to the beast’s neck. Once it tired out, he rose to his feet. He gripped the hilt of his sword with both hands and brought it down in a ferocious drive. The blade sunk deep into the dragon’s head, piercing its head with a deadly blow. Its body went limp and crashed down onto the ice. The lurch of its dead body was enough to yank Gareth from the dragon and down onto the ice with his sword still embedded in its head.

The weight of the dragon’s dead body plunged the ice around it into a hundred different pieces of broken ice. The icy waters charged up around the beast. Gareth felt himself go numb as he hit the hard ice, and then began sliding into the cold waters below. He caught the edge of a plate of ice but his body was already submerged. He couldn’t breathe. His lungs were frozen.

Elric was there in a flash, for he had just recovered from the blow by the dragon’s wing.

“Save me, brother,” muttered Gareth desperately. All around them men were screaming, fighting for their lives to stay above the ice.

Elric stammered over to Gareth, standing just above him.

“Save me,” Gareth managed. His grip was slipping. Elric got onto his knees, preparing to pull him from the deadly waters. A million thoughts flashed through his mind. Nobody would ever know what happened here. He could try to save him. But why? Gareth would receive all the glory. He would cement himself as one of the great legends of Windem and endear himself further to the King. He imagined them arriving home in victory—Gareth’s sword being hung in the king’s hall in a glorious display case. And him? Elric? He would be an after-thought. The loyal friend that accompanied Gareth. That was all. He looked down at Gareth. His head was about to go under. He clasped Gareth’s hand, prepared to pull him from the water. A glimmer of hope filled Gareth’s eyes. His will to fight and survive was there, although dim. He was quicky losing all body heat and his mind was beginning to slip consciousness.

Elric let go of his grip, allowing Gareth to slip down into the icy waters. He saw Gareth’s eyes glaze over as he dipped into the water and disappeared below the ice. As he released Gareth’s hand he said, “You wouldn’t have made it anyways.”

Elric wasted no time moving on. He leapt up onto the sinking dragon. He grabbed both hands around the hilt of the sword. The sword would go home with them, he knew. It would be a symbol of their victory. He yanked and, with much force and strength, he barely managed to free it from the dragon’s head. He leapt off of the dragon, doing a tuck and roll on the ice to cushion his fall.

A loud crack! Whipped out across the tundra. The ice was cracking, and it was a big one. The sound was deafening and the ripple of the crack was reverberating across the entire tundra. Some men had sunk into the water and disappeared to their deaths. Some were knocked unconscious by the chaos that had just occurred.

“Come on!” shouted Elric. “We must go, now!”

A few hesitantly began to make for safety. There were four mile to run on the ice before they were safely off of the frozen waters. Others were staring confused at Elric. Where had Gareth gone? They had just seen him pierce the dragon with his sword.

“What about the Gareth?” one man shouted. Others seemed to murmur their agreement.

“There’s no time,” replied Elric. The ice began to crack like a web. “Come on, go now if you want to survive. If you want to wait then you can join Gareth in the abyss below the ice.”

“But the dragon…no one will see the proof that we killed the fabled creature of Northrock,” said another knight. His lips were blue and his eyebrows were frozen.

Elric ignored him and turned to run. Others followed suit. It was no use. The dragon’s body was already quickly submerging. The wind was starting to howl and the ice was going to break soon. And now, to make matters worse, a storm was brewing overhead. Lightning flashed and then a peal of thunder jolted the land. The vibration was felt underfoot as the men scrambled to make it to land. There were about fifty men who had survived the bout with the dragon. A few were slowly dropping off as they ran.

Some collapsed. Some were beginning to freeze to death. Others could not feel their legs or feet and simply felt their bodies stiffen up and stop working. Half an hour later, twenty-five men made it to land. The ground was still frozen over and the conditions were still freezing.

“We can’t stop now,” said Elric. “We must find somewhere to make a fire, but now here. We’ll never survive this far north.”

Men reluctantly followed after Elric. After another couple hours of dragging their feet, they finally made it to a spot that had trees and light underbrush that was growing over the ice. It was enough to make a fire. The men huddled together, first warming their hands to prevent frostbite, and then their toes. Others warmed their faces first and suffered the consequences. Many men lost their toes, fingers, and even feet on the expedition back.

Nearly a month later, the host was back within a mile of Windem. The final count of men that had made it home was twelve. Two were laid across horseback with loss of limbs or taken by serious illness. The other ten hung their hungs as they came within sight of Hilltop, where the Kingdom’s Castle awaited their heroes. Women and children stood along either side of the path leading to the front gates. Smiles and excited waves quickly disappeared as the score of men returning was realized.

They had killed the fabled orc-eel and Gareth had been the hero. But there was no proof the creature’s killing and there was no Gareth in that host of twelve men that made it back. Amidst the group of waiting women and children was Gareth’s wife Mildred and Gareth’s six-year-old son, Tristan. Elric was the first to greet Mildred. Her eyes were already watering. Her lips quivered and her body convulsed. Mildred gave one last look into Elric’s downcast eyes, hoping beyond hope that there was a chance. Maybe he was just behind…

Elric lifted his head, taking grabbing Mildred’s arms with his hands to steady her. He pursed his lips and gave a curt shake of the head. Mildred released a loud sob and then felt her breath become caught in her chest. She nearly collapsed but Elric caught her and held her. Tristan looked to Elric and his mother, slowly figuring out the situation. He turned to run but the King had seen the situation and anticipated the boy’s dismay. Tristan looked up at the King with a blank look. He did not know what to feel.

“Tristan,” said the King. “Do not be afraid. Everything is going to be okay.” The King hoisted Tristian up into his arms. Tristan threw his arms around the King and squeezed him in a big hug. Tristan was scared. He just wanted to see his father, but he was gone. A small part of him still expected to see his father, Gareth Blackthorn the Great coming over that hill like he always did, a big smile on his face. But he never did.