Prisoners

A blind toddler sat alone in a forest. He didn’t know where he was or how he had come to be there. The last thing he remembered was lying on a bed of straw in the king’s stables, surrounded by the smell of manure and neighing horses. But when he opened his eyes, although the five-year-old could see only darkness, he knew instantly that he had awoken somewhere else. He could feel the long blades of grass under his body. He could hear the singsong of birds and smell the fresh outside air. This place was unfamiliar to him, foreign.

Curiosity brought the toddler to his feet. With his hands extended in front of him–just as Master Wingar had taught him–he wandered about, exploring with the tips of his fingers. But there was nothing for him to touch, for the boy had found himself in a large clearing. He kept tripping over tree stumps and falling to the ground. Frustrated, he remained sitting and called out for his father. And when his father didn’t come, the toddler began to cry. His wailing echoed through the woods for what seemed like an eternity, soaring through the trees like a bird.

Then finally he heard it, felt it. Branches cracking in the not-too-far distance. Animals scattering noisily. A gentle vibration in the dirt. The stablehand’s son set his palm against the ground and listened. Listened as the sounds crept closer and closer, until whatever had caused them was standing right there in front of him. The toddler looked up.

Although he could not see it, the boy was looking up at a dragon.

The beast was large, about the size of an elephant. Its scales were splattered with oranges, reds, and yellows–the color of a blazing fire. Its monstrous head sat atop a long, winding neck. Two ivory horns protruded from the top of its skull. Smaller ivory horns traveled down its spine, to the tip of its long, swishing tail. With each breath, smoke drifted through the cracks between its sharp, gnarled teeth. Perched on muscular hindlegs and forearms, the dragon stared down at the child, as if wondering what to make of this wailing creature.

The boy could feel the creature’s heavy breaths upon his face, the scent like burning logs. He could feel its massive shadow looming over him, blotting out the sun and cooling his body. And yet, the stablehand’s son was not afraid. Maybe it was because he could not see the dragon’s imposing form, or maybe he was just glad to no longer be alone. Whatever the reason, the child’s sobbing diminished.

“Hello,” he said. “My name is Axel.”

As if in response, the dragon lowered its head and smelled the child.

Sniffling, Axel raised his little fingers and rested them on the creature’s snout. The dragon did not bite the child’s hand, nor did it unleash a ball of fire. It merely sat there, regarding the boy with what could only be described as curiosity.

Axel ran his hand slowly up and down the dragon’s scales. “I’ve never felt anything like you before,” he muttered.

The dragon snorted, almost pridefully, shooting a puff of smoke from its nostrils.

“I’m lost,” Axel told the dragon sadly. “Have you come to help me?”

The dragon tilted its head. Then it leaned forward and rested its snout against the boy’s wet face. In response, Axel wrapped his arms around the dragon’s snout, which spanned the length of his body.

“NOW!”

This unexpected voice came bursting from the treetops, startling both Axel and the dragon. The beast tore its head from Axel’s grip and glared in the direction of the voice. As it did, five arrows went soaring out of the forest. Three whizzed by and missed their target. But two of them struck true, piercing the creature’s back. The dragon opened its jaws wide, displaying rows of razor-sharp teeth, and unleashed a roar that made Axel’s neck hairs stand on end. It took several wobbly steps away from the child. The beast closed its eyes and shook its head, trying to fight off the drowsiness suddenly coursing through its body. It raised its forearms high into the air, revealing great, leathery wings. The dragon flapped its arms and tried to take flight. But its body made it only several inches off the ground before it came tumbling back to earth.

The tremendous thud made Axel jump to his feet. He was confused, frightened. He didn’t see the arrows that had attacked his companion, nor could he see the men who had sent them flying.

Hunters in green camouflage came creeping out of the forest and into the clearing. They gaped at the beast with caution and bewilderment, for they had never seen a full grown dragon before. Some of the men were holding thick, metal chains. Others had a quiver of arrows slung around their backs, their next arrow already notched in a wooden bow. Every arrow tip was coated with a glistening purple liquid. All of the men were shaking with fear.

None of them seemed concerned for the five-year-old boy who was caught in the dragon’s warpath.

“Keep those arrows at bay!” This steady voice belonged to the group’s leader, a young, hooded hunter who had initiated the attack. “Too much of the potion might kill it. The beast should collapse any second.”

The hunters watched the creature stagger and shake its head, waiting for it to fall unconscious. But the dragon’s eyes instead flitted open–a flash of amber with a black slit at the center–and it gave a vicious roar. And from the depths of its throat came a faint red glow, followed by a jet of blazing fire.

Axel felt an intense rush of heat that missed him by mere inches. He heard screams and roars, pain and horror. He tried feeling his way to safety, away from the screaming, away from the heat. But the dragon, in its rage, unknowingly struck the boy with the tip of its tail. Axel fell to the ground and stayed there.

All around his unconscious body, things were burning. Several hunters were running frantically through the clearing, trying to escape the flames dancing upon their bodies. They screamed as the flesh melted off their bones, until they collapsed in a smoldering heap and then screamed no more. Even the men who had avoided the fire were screaming. Some of them fled into the forest. Many, though, were determined to be heroes. With trembling fingertips, the archers hastily pulled back their arrows and sent them hurtling at the beast. Most missed, but two of the arrows hit their mark.

Another roar burst from the dragon’s mouth, this one quieter than the last. The red glow in its throat grew progressively softer until it vanished, snuffed out like the flame of a candle. The creature’s eyelids became heavy, its footsteps unbalanced. Finally the dragon slumped over and fell to the ground, not far from where Axel’s unconscious body was lying.

Panting, the remaining hunters stared at the creature in awe–a full grown dragon, lying at their feet. The leader gazed around the clearing. A few trees at the edge were burning, and some of the grass had been scorched black, but overall, the woods were fine. His plan to create an open space in the forest had worked; the clearing had minimized much of the dragon’s damage. Sure, they had lost some good men, but that was to be expected.

A noble sacrifice for an epic accomplishment.

The hooded hunter placed two shaky fingers in his mouth and whistled. A second group of men came out of the forest and into the clearing. They were guiding a team of large, muscular horses, all of which were tethered to a massive wagon. The horses neighed and kicked at the dirt when they saw the dragon, but the men forced them along.

The hunters bound the dragon’s body with their chains. They secured its hindlegs to its forearms, so the beast couldn’t take flight or run off should it unexpectedly awake. They also wrapped chains around its snout to keep its jaws shut. Then using the horses and their combined strength, the men hauled the dragon up onto the cart. Once their prize was secured, the horses pulled the wagon through the clearing and into the woods. The remaining hunters followed.

The very last thing they did was scoop up Axel’s unconscious body and toss it into the cart with the dragon.

It took the group half a day to get home. The journey was exhausting, but the men kept their spirits up by fantasizing about the glory and riches that awaited them back home. Back in their kingdom of Entosia.

Entosia was tiny, more like a small city than a kingdom. It was surrounded by a curtain wall, which was guarded day and night by soldiers. Entosia’s bells rang triumphantly as the hunting party approached. Fortunately, the dragon was still unconscious. So was Axel, though no one paid him any mind. Massive, wooden doors, embedded in the curtain wall, opened for the men and their cargo.

The hunting party followed the main road through Entosia. Along the way, civilians crowded the streets to catch a glimpse of the dragon. They gasped, and stared, and whispered to their neighbors. Others cheered, and applauded, and clapped their hands against the hunters’ backs. Eventually, the men and their horses came to a halt at a grand castle. A welcome party stood in front of it, though the king was strangely absent.

The group’s hooded leader stepped forward and climbed the palace stairs. When he reached the welcome party, he turned to face the crowd and lowered his hood, revealing himself to be King Tyrannus, king of Entosia.

“People of Entosia!” he declared loudly. “I–I mean, we have accomplished what no man in the world has done: we have captured a dragon.”

As everyone cheered and applauded, King Tyrannus’ eyes twinkled greedily at the dragon. This was Entosia’s chance to be seen as a prominent kingdom. He knew how the other kings looked down at his little kingdom. To them, Entosia was nothing more than a blip on their map. A meager kingdom that bore little power, influence, and status. But no more.

“This is a glorious moment for me–I mean, us,” King Tyrannus continued, “a day that will be remembered throughout history. I want to thank our healer, Wingar, who brewed an exceptionally strong sleeping potion for us. We coated our arrows with it, which allowed us to bring down the beast.” King Tyrannus nodded at a middle-aged, bearded man in the welcome party. “As for the brave hunters who joined me in this daring feat–you are invited to dine with me in my halls tonight, where we will toast to this epic accomplishment. And you will all be rewarded handsomely for your aid, as will the families of the men we lost on this journey. ”

King Tyrannus was true to his word. Each man received their weight in gold and enjoyed a decadent feast in the king’s castle. But there was one member of the hunting party who did not receive any gold, nor even a morsel of food.

Axel awoke in a healthy state the next morning, and this time, he was in the right place. The toddler found himself in a little room at the back of the king’s stables, where he lived with his father on the castle grounds. Confused, Axel went to the stablehand and told him what happened.

“Stupid boy,” his father scoffed, “that was only a dream. None of it actually happened.”

Filled with disappointment, Axel shrugged the whole thing off as a dream, oblivious to the dragon’s capture and the role he had played in it–though this did not remain the case for long. Wherever Axel went, he would hear excited chatter about something called a dragon. He didn’t know what this was exactly, but he knew it was living in an underground lair below King Tyrannus’ castle. Axel asked his father to tell him about this mysterious creature. But the stablehand snapped at him, claiming that he was too busy to answer silly questions.

The boy instead sought his answers at the palace infirmary, which was run by a healer named Wingar. Wingar knew the stablehand’s son well; it was he who had taught the blind boy how to navigate the castle grounds and see with his fingertips.

“Master Wingar, what is a dragon?” Axel asked him.

“It’s a creature that can fly like a giant bird and shoot fire from its mouth like a volcano,” said Wingar. “It has horns on its head like a devil and scales covering its body like a snake.”

Axel’s unseeing eyes bulged with awe. “And it lives under King Tyrannus’ castle?”

“There are many dragons in this world, not just one, and they all live in different places. The dragon you speak of has lived in Entosia Forest for the last century. Fortunately, it has never come near the kingdom. But people often saw its massive shape, flying in the distance. Because of this dragon, people were too afraid to venture into the woods. This angered King Tyrannus’ ancestors, who felt as though they had lost a piece of their kingdom to a wild animal. They offered a handsome reward to whoever could slay the dragon–and an even greater reward to anyone who could capture it. For you see, there are a handful of men who have slaughtered a dragon, but none who have ever captured one.

“For one hundred years, men have been trying to kill the dragon of Entosia Forest, and all of them have been reduced to ash and bone. Until the other day, when King Tyrannus himself managed to capture the beast. Now it lives in an underground lair beneath his castle.”

Wingar’s tale and descriptions made the gears in Axel’s mind turn. “I think I may have dreamed of a dragon once,” he recounted in a dreamy voice. “Will the king train it like one of father’s horses?”

“Oh no, dragons cannot be tamed. They are vicious and dangerous beasts.”

Axel frowned. The dragon he met hadn’t been vicious or dangerous. But then again, that had only been a dream. “So what will the king do with it?”

The answer to Axel’s question came the following day when King Tyrannus announced that he’d be hosting public viewings of the dragon for a fee. Word of this news spread through Entosia and to the world beyond it. People began traveling far and wide to see the captured dragon: royalty with grand entourages, noblemen from cities, commoners from nameless villages, and foreigners from across the sea. So many different people, and yet they all left Entosia with the same excited and bewildered expressions, for none of them had ever seen a full grown dragon before.

As King Tyannus had hoped, the dragon had brought Entosia to the world stage.

All of this commotion deepened Axel’s interest in the dragon. He asked his father if they could visit the creature. But the stablehand ridiculed him, claiming that it would be a waste to spend money on something that the boy couldn’t even see.

Axel was disappointed but not defeated. He began parking himself outside the dragon’s lair, where he could hear the reactions of its departing visitors. Axel lived vicariously through their stories, soaking up their awe and excitement, dreaming of the day that he might be able to visit the dragon.

***

Ten years came and went, and during that time, the dragon remained in its underground lair. Visitors from all over the world still flocked to see it, though in fewer numbers than before. But that no longer mattered. At this point, Entosia was a global superpower. It now had wealth, influence, status, and it was still the only kingdom in the world to possess a dragon. Many others had tried capturing one of their own, but none had managed to succeed. And when the other kings tried asking for advice, King Tyrannus would merely shrug his shoulders. The dragon had become a symbol of Entosia, an emblem of power, and that was how he intended to keep it.

While Entosia grew in power, Axel grew in height. He was now fifteen-years-old. And as he grew, Axel noticed that it wasn’t just his father who treated him horribly; it was everyone. Some people would act kindly to his face but then joke and laugh about his disability the moment he turned his back. Others would poke fun or make condescending remarks whenever he spoke to them. Because of this, Axel spent much of his time working at the stables, where he was criticized and belittled constantly by his father. The stablehand forbade him from riding and taking care of the horses. The only work he really did was shoveling manure. “You need your eyes to do anything properly,” his father would say.

After ten long years of abuse, Axel decided that he’d had enough. He went to the palace infirmary and begged Wingar to help him find work elsewhere. “There is an open position on the castle grounds,” the healer told him. “But I must warn you–it’s not very exciting.”

The job was cleaning excrement from the dragon’s lair each night. And contrary to Wingar’s belief, Axel couldn’t have been more excited. He was never able to afford the dragon’s visitation fee. Now he could experience the creature without having to pay anything.

On the first day of the job, Wingar accompanied Axel to the dragon’s lair. The patrolmen guarding its wooden gate opened it. The fifteen-year-old stepped into the underground tunnel. Although his arm was interlocked with Wingar’s, Axel ran his hand along the tunnel’s rocky walls for further guidance. The guards sniggered at him, but Axel was far too excited to care. He could feel the heat from the flaming torches on the walls, illuminating the spacious cavern. He could detect the creature’s smoky scent, even from a distance. Axel knew that smell, from a place that felt so much realer than a dream. And when they suddenly stopped walking, Axel knew–they were standing in front of the dragon.

“Can I touch it?” he asked excitedly.

“You can.”

With his arms outstretched, Axel walked toward the dragon. He felt its scales and its warm breath–and also metal. Tons of cold, hard metal all over the creature’s body. Although Axel could not see it, the dragon was bound to the cavern walls by thick, metal chains. They were secured around its neck, forearms, hindlegs, and tail to restrict flying or excessive movement. Even its snout was clamped shut by an iron muzzle.

Axel’s heart sank. This was not the dragon he’d imagined, nor even the one from the visitors’ stories. That dragon had been full of energy, restrained but still able to move about. This poor beast was just lying around like a lazy dog. Ten years of darkness and isolation, it seemed, had stripped the dragon of its willpower.

Every night, Axel went to the dragon’s lair alone–not only to do his job, but to also keep the poor beast company. He often spoke to it as he worked, mostly about trivial things. He told the dragon about Entosia and its people, about Wingar and King Tyrannus. But as the days turned into weeks, Axel found himself opening up about more serious matters, things that he rarely allowed himself to ponder. He told the dragon how his mother had died in childbirth and how his father seemed to hate him because of his disability. He spoke sadly about the prejudices he faced everyday and how everyone viewed him as incompetent and useless. The boy assumed that the creature had no idea what he was saying. But whenever he heard a snort or the clink of a chain, Axel liked to think that it was the dragon’s way of responding to him. Of saying, “I’m here, and I’m listening.”

“You know, I dreamt about a dragon once,” Axel said one day. While sitting against the dragon’s body, looking up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes, he told the beast, “I was lost in a forest. I was alone, confused, frightened. I began to cry, hoping my father would come for me, but what came instead was a dragon. People claim that dragons are vicious and dangerous beasts. But this particular dragon–it let me touch it without harming me. And when I asked if it had come to help me, the dragon responded by–”

Axel fell silent as the dragon’s snout, clasped in its iron muzzle, rested gently against his face. It was the same thing that the dragon had done in his dream. And in that moment, Axel knew–what he’d experienced that day was no dream. He really had met a dragon.

This dragon.

The next day, Axel stormed angrily into the infirmary, demanding answers from Wingar. “I was there when King Tyrannus captured the dragon of Entosia Forest, wasn’t I?” he shouted. “That wasn’t a dream, was it?”

Wingar sighed. “I always knew this day would come...”

In a sad voice, Wingar told him everything: how his father had given him carelessly to the king and how King Tyrannus had used Axel as dragon bait. “I swear, I knew nothing about your involvement when I brewed that sleeping potion for King Tyrannus. I was outraged when they brought you to me for a head wound. I confronted them both about it, but at that point, the deed was done. I’m so sorry, Axel.”

Axel accepted Wingar’s apology. His father, however, was another matter.

“You gave me to King Tyrannnus?” Axel screamed at him in the stables. “You let him use me, your own child, as bait?”

“A blind child,” the stablehand spat. “A blind child who killed his mother coming out of the womb, who will never amount to anything in this world. It was a mercy, sending you off with King Tyrannus. And look–you survived. No harm done. Now you’ll be forever linked to the very first capture of a dragon. That’s more glory than a boy like you could ever hope to attain.”

“But why did the king choose me? Why not a goat or a calf?”

“Because King Tyrannus thought your life was worth less than his livestock.”

“So my disability makes me useless?” Axel shot back indignantly. “My life is worth nothing?”

“No, not nothing. King Tyrannus paid me to hand you over.”

With that, Axel stormed out of the stables and into the night. Rage blazed within him like a roaring fire. And the more he considered the truth, the hotter and wilder the flames became.

Axel’s feet carried him to the dragon’s lair. The patrolmen guarding its wooden gate assumed he was there for work and granted him entry without question. With outstretched fingers, Axel approached the beast in its dimly lit cavern. And when he reached it, the first thing he felt was the cold, hard metal of its muzzle. Axel immediately moved his hands to another spot, to one of life and warmth. He ran his hands up and down its scales, feeling the dragon, seeing it with his fingertips.

“It wasn’t a dream. It was you,” he whispered, his eyes welling with tears. “You came to me that day in the forest. You were the only one.” Axel shook his head. “I’m sorry for what happened to you. I didn’t know what King Tyrannus was going to do. The king used me, just as he’s using you. I hate that I played a role in your capture.” Axel’s hands found the dragon’s muzzle. “This time, though, I will choose what role to play.” His fingers searched the metal, feeling for bolts and latches. And when he found them, Axel undid every little piece, releasing the muzzle from the creature’s snout.

The dragon’s amber eyes grew round and alert. For the last ten years, it was fed through a muzzle. Now it was able to stretch its jaws. The beast opened its mouth, as wide as it could go, and unleashed a stream of fire. Axel felt a rush of heat and scurried away. With unseeing eyes, he watched the dragon spray fire on its restraints, until they grew brittle and snapped. Little by little, the dragon became liberated: its head rose high into the air; it stretched its forearms and expanded its great, leathery wings. Burnt and shattered chains were still clinging to its neck, forearms, and legs. But the dragon was now free, suddenly as vibrant as its fiery scales.

Axel smiled. Like the dragon, the flames inside him had now been quenched

The beast released an earth-shattering roar. It was so powerful that it shook the king’s castle above and echoed through the kingdom, awakening King Tyrannus and all of Entosia. Terrified, the patrolmen guarding the lair gaped at the wooden gate. And when they heard the dragon coming, storming through the tunnel, they turned around and ran.

The dragon burst through the gate. Bits of wood and metal went flying through the air. With nothing but the sky above, the dragon began flapping its wings for the first time in a decade. Axel, of course, couldn’t see it. But still he watched, smiling, as the dragon took flight, soaring above the kingdom and off into the night.

***

The next day, Axel stood somberly at the gallows, the noose that would kill him hanging snugly around his neck. He wasn’t crying or shaking like most men in his position, but he was terrified nonetheless. He knew that freeing the dragon would have dire consequences, especially after hearing King Tyrannus’ rage on the castle grounds. But for Axel, it was worth it.

A noble sacrifice for an epic accomplishment.

Axel could tell from the great many voices that a large crowd had gathered in front of him. In that moment, he was grateful to be blind; it would have broken his heart to see all the people who had come to watch him die.

The gallows were on a wooden platform that rose above the crowd. Joining Axel on this stage was a small group of people, a farewell party of sorts. Among them was his father, who was glaring at Axel with the utmost hatred, and Wingar, who was choosing to look at his feet rather than at the gallows. King Tyrannus was there, too. He was currently lost in a heated tirade, rambling about Axel’s crimes to his subjects. Axel ignored most of it, until the king’s livid voice declared,

“Axel, you stand accused of stealing Entosia’s property, my–I mean, our most valuable asset, and endangering the lives of our citizens. For these crimes, I, King Tyrannus, sentence you to death by hanging. Do you have any last words?”

Axel opened his mouth to speak–but then he heard it, felt it. The powerful beating of wings above. A steady gust of wind, blowing through the crowd. With a flabbergasted smile, Axel turned his attention to the sky.

Only then did everyone notice the dragon.

It was shooting overheard like a ball of fire, flying toward Entosia for the first time. Startled cries erupted from the crowd, fingers pointing frantically at the sky. When it became clear that the dragon was hurtling toward them, people began to scream and run.

Wingar bolted toward Axel, who was still confined by the gallow’s noose, and tried to set him free. King Tyrannus, the stablehand, and the rest of the farewell party tried hurriedly to descend the platform. But the dragon landed in front of them, at the foot of the stage, with a booming thud. Charred and broken chains still clung to the creature’s body, giving it a sinister appearance.

With fiery rage, the dragon’s amber eyes glared at King Tyrannus, whose skin had gone as white as milk. The dragon roared ferociously, and from the depths of its throat came a scorching jet of fire. Its flames enveloped King Tyrannus, Axel’s father, and the rest of the farewell party. They screamed and burned for mere seconds before crumbling into ash.

The dragon stomped through the flames, over its victims’ ashes, and proceeded up the platform. It saw Wingar by the gallows, struggling to set Axel free. Once again, the beast opened its tremendous jaws. It breathed fire on the gallows and torched the wooden structure. The rope tying Axel to the gallows, to his death, burnt away, though the noose still hung around his neck.

Petrified, Wingar gaped at the dragon, waiting to become its next victim. The beast stared blankly back at him, as if bored by his presence.

“It’s alright,” came a calm voice from behind Wingar. “It’s not going to harm you.”

Axel stepped forward, smiling, his eyes fixed on the magnificent creature. Although he couldn’t see it, he knew that the dragon was waiting for him, beckoning him. “Thank you, Wingar,” he said earnestly. “For always being there for me.”

With his arms outstretched, Axel approached the dragon. He ran his hands lovingly along its snout. The beast lowered itself to the floor, and when it did, Axel grabbed hold of its horns and hoisted himself onto its back.

Speechless, Wingar watched as a blind boy became the first person in history to mount a dragon, the flames dancing all around them.

The creature expanded and flapped its great wings, lifting them off the ground. They flew up into the sky, Axel’s noose and the dragon’s chains trailing in the air behind them, two captives who had finally been set free. And together, Axel and the dragon soared away from Entosia, leaving behind not only ashes but a legend that would be remembered and retold for centuries to come.