Ice in the Desert

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley.

The Valley had once been an unofficial part of the Imperial Highway, where thousands of people would travel monthly to get to their destination. Carved out of the glittering summer stone that made up the expansive landscape, it was as beautiful as it was daunting. With its impossibly high cavernous walls and ever expansive tunnels and pathways, it was said to be the perfect protection between hungry beast and ruthless bandit. Perhaps that is why the dragons favoured it so.

It began as a day like any other. Due to the popularity of said Valley, many people had set up stalls and shops within the stone chasm. Having been carved into the stone itself, they were seen as a much-needed reprieve from the cruel environment above. It was seen as the Valley of Prosperity. A gift from the gods to ease the weary traveller and protect the common folk. So popular was it a route to the people that the reigning monarch, Emperor Alexius, issued a soldier garrison to guard over the valley day and night to ensure the safety of his people.

He had no idea just how useless that protection would be.

The sun was high in the cloudless sky and sand from the barren desert blew gently in the warm wind. Within the valley, protected by the sun’s rays, the stalls and shops were bustling along as always. Sellers shouted their prices to passing travellers. Water ran free and plenty from the natural spring found in one of the valley’s caves. The rather unpleasant smell of both freshly cut meat and animal faeces filled the air. Looking down from above were the top ground patrol. Soldiers whose job it was to watch for any incoming threats from the surface paths.

That’s when they felt it. A freezing chill in the air. It was a chill so strong that they felt it deep in their bones despite their armour. From the watchtower in the distance, two soldiers in red and silver armour saw one of their fellow soldiers wave a flag from the top of his watchtower. A flag of white with a black cross.

“Gods protect us” the veteran of the pair whispered; face now pale

“What is it?” asked the younger of the two who had only started the position the week before.

The veteran swallowed back the lump in his throat “Dragon” he spoke before running to the edge of the valley “DRAGON!!” he bellowed his warning to the people below. For a moment, no one moved. Then, panic hit like a landslide. Screaming engulfed the valley floor as desperate people began to flee for their lives using any pathway they thought would lead them to salvation.

An earth-shattering roar overhead was the last thing the young soldier ever heard. The veteran, battered from war and death, could only watch helplessly as his fellow soldier was snatched up into the sky by iridescent white talons, never to be seen again. He let out a sound deep from his chest. A sound his had not made since the war ten years ago. From behind, he heard it. A creature several hundred times his size landed, its weight causing some of the looser boulders from the rim of the valley to fall onto the people below.

He turned around slowly, coming face to face with the snout of a creature from legend and the depths of nightmares itself. It was a Hielo, an Ice Drake from the eternal winter cliffs of the north. It sparkled like freshly fallen snow but held a power unlike any dragon he’d ever faced before. For while most dragons craved treasure like a glutton craved his next meal, an Ice Drake craved only the heat from the sun that never rose in their homelands.

The veteran unsheathed his sword only to realise that this dragon was not alone. This was only the first. A veritable swarm of Ice Drakes we’re approaching on the horizon. He knew there was no stopping all of them. Still, he lunged at the beast with all his might. He too would never see his homeland again.

Back in the valley, people scrambled for safety. Desperate merchants and travellers almost trampled each other to save themselves. When blasts of ice started pelting the ground with deadly accuracy, pandemonium hit. Poor souls were encased in ice against the shimmering walls and sandy ground. People’s limbs shattered as they ran.

Two parents who had been travelling through with their young son, did all that they could to save their only child.

“Up the walls! It’s his only chance!” cried the father, urgently gesturing for his wife to follow. Thus, the pair began to try to climb up the jagged and rocky walls with their son holding on to his mother’s back. Many others followed suit, seeing it as their only chance of survival. Climbing up was nigh impossible. The shiny stone that made up the valley made it difficult to get their grip but they persevered. They had to for their son.

They managed to make it near the top where the mother helped her son climb over her head so he could reach the top. Being only seven it was a struggle and a fear but he did it much to his parents' relief.

“Look out!” a panic-stricken voice from lower down screamed. There they saw one of the dragons blast a massive bolt of ice like fire with such force it engulfed the valley and all who were still in it.

“Thom-!” his mother gasped before she and his father vanished from sight. Thom was pushed back by the blast several feet, landing on his bottom with a thump.

He looked back to where he was just stood, his small body shaking from the cold and fear “M-Mama? Mama?” he asked inching closer. The freezing mist left by the blast began to fade allowing him to see down. What he saw would haunt Thom for the rest of his days.

There still on the rocky edge were his mother and father, frozen solid. They, like so many others, were left statues in their final moments. Their faces trapped forever in an expression of open-mouthed fear, hands reaching out to the sky in a futile attempt of escape. Beneath their frozen bodies, the walls began to crumble. Again, they vanished from his view, falling motionless to the hard ground below. Thom looked away but couldn’t escape the sound of shattering as they hit the ground.

Seemingly unaware or uncaring of the countless lives they had just taken, the dragons swooped into the valley in an almost triumphant glide. Silently sobbing and unable to really comprehend what had just happened, Thom staggered to his feet and began to run. He saw what few people had managed to escape and followed them. It was only when he and the other survivors were out of the Drakes path, did young Thom begin to wail.

There weren’t always dragons in the valley. There are now.