The snow was coming down worse than ever, making the dock wet and slippery. There would be no sound footing in this fight. I heard nothing from Garrett. In fact, the only sounds were the labored breathing of my enemies, and my own panting. Behind me, the ice was cracking, sending a spiderweb out across the lake, spreading from the black hole where the man had fallen.

The two men advanced slowly, without saying anything.

"So, what happened to Garrett?" I started.

They made no sound that they'd even heard me. The one on my right attacked.

For a few moments, the air was filled with quick strikes, clangs, and ha! s. Then we disengaged. He took a step back.

The one on the left began an attack. He did better than his friend, since the side he attacked on forced me to move, losing any footing I may have had. The flurry of knife-on-sword took most of my attention, though I didn't ignore the other man.

But he seemed to be content to watch. My opponent lunged, I deflected it, he stepped back, and the other man attacked.

They were trying to wear me down. One man fought while the other one rested. I couldn't exchange blows forever. I had to go on the offensive.

The man who was resting had put his swordpoint in the soft wood of the dock, and was leaning on it, expecting me to concentrate on his companion. His mistake.

I took two steps forward, forcing my opponent back. Then with a shout, I kicked the other one's sword out from under his hands, and onto the breaking ice. He flailed, off balance. I blocked a thrust from my opponent, then stabbed the weaponless man in the stomach.

It wasn't fatal, but it started a gush of blood, and he screamed and fell into the water. It was only about six or seven feet deep there, but he made the mistake of holding onto his wound instead of treading water. The man I was fighting shouted to him to swim, but it was too late. The cold of the water had set in, and the man's limbs went numb. He sank to the bottom.

Another spout of bubbles rose to the surface, along with red blood, staining the dark water darker.

The man I was fighting stared at the hole in the ice, unbelieving. "They said…they said you'd be no problem," he muttered.

"You won't make that mistake again," I assured him, and roundhouse kicked him off the other side of the dock.

He hit the ice, sending up a splash of icy water, which I avoided like lava. If it hit me, I'd freeze in the cold air.

He came to the surface, howling. "You—you—" he spluttered, already stiffening. "Don't…"

His hands latched onto the dock. He began to haul himself up out of the water. He wouldn't last long in this cold, but I needed to find Garrett.

I stomped on his hands. He screamed and fell back into the water. Without waiting to see if he survived it, I took off.

I charged into the treeline. I couldn't see Garrett. Of course I couldn't see Garrett; if he was in any condition to move or stand, they wouldn't have left him.

I followed the footprints. He had fenced with his man for a while. The third one had followed me to the treeline, then doubled back towards Garrett. All three had fought for a while, making footprints all over, then…

Garrett had vanished. No footprints at all. The other two had followed me.

I looked around the spot where his footprints had disappeared. I saw nothing. At all. Anything.

"Father," I said. "Help me."

I hesitated, hoping, perhaps, for a sign, but nothing happened. No ghostly form, no divine flash of light.

I started running toward the house.

I got within a mile of it. Then things started to go badly.