The Flight of Icarus

Icarus held the metal feather in front his eyes, trying to count all the individual bristles rising from the rachis.

“So what kind of metal is this again?”

Daedalus didn’t pause his work before he replied, tapping another feather with precision using a copper hammer the size of a spoon.

“A new kind of metal, steel, it contains nickel, chromium and…” Daedalus’ voice trailed off as he noticed his son’s eyes glaze over. Icarus had always had more interest in drinking with his friends back in Mallia than listening to anything about his craft. Although Icarus hadn’t been allowed to drink with those boys for almost a year now.

Daedalus plucked the feather from between Icarus’ fingers and started to heat the quill in the bloomery. Icarus moved over to the completed set of wings and stretched them out accompanied by a sound of a light metallic grind. The fine steel wires extended from inside a central pack. It was like someone had taken a metal bird and then cut away the head, stomach, legs and tail, only leaving the wings and a part of its back.

“And these will definitely work?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. Daedalus’ brow creased.

“Son, you just have to trust me and my work.” Icarus grunted and lounged back on one of the recliners that adorned their lavish prison.

“But are not we better off in here? They feed us, care for us well, we have a beautiful view of the ocean, all the wine we can drink and whores we can fuck…”

“Language!”

“…What is out there that makes in here worth giving up?”

“Freedom.” Icarus paused before he reached over for a fig in their fruit bowl and threw it out the window.

“Freedom? The beggar on the street is free. I would rather have comfort than freedom. I do not want to be free just to be a fig splattered on the rocks.”

With an exasperated sigh that did not continue down to his hands, Daedalus carefully laid the last feather down on the second pair of wings.

“You are young. One day you will realise that freedom is one of the greatest treasures the gods have granted us.”

“The freedom of humanity is not something the gods cherish. They use us as pawns in their great and everlasting games. They would sooner take that freedom away if they could. No, freedom is purely human.”

“It does not pay to insult the gods, son. They will not tolerate it.”

“Insult the gods? I thank them every day for putting me in this situation.” Daedalus walked over to the door and slammed the iron bar down with more force than he intended.

“Do not lay responsibility on the gods for our situation. Minos is the one who imprisoned us here.”

“Or maybe we should place responsibility on Poseidon for forcing Minos to make this decision?” Daedalus walked to the window and peered out the sky. It was already looking darker, and the waves assaulted the shoreline below. He also noticed a string of guards walking up the road from the palace towards their isolated, cliff-side prison. Stroking his thick, dark beard, he turned to Icarus.

“Put them on now.”

“What if I choose not to?”

“Do not be stupid. Without me, they will just kill you.”

“And you would leave me to be killed?” said Icarus, his tone not reflecting the gravitas of their situation. Daedalus only hesitated slightly as he strapped on his own wings.

“Maybe life without freedom is worse than death.”

“And what about life…”

“I am not debating this any further! Put them on now!” Icarus opened his mouth, but closed it quickly. He picked up his own wings, surprised at how little they weighed.

“You may not like it, but you will appreciate what I am doing for you in time,” mumbled Daedalus.

“And what about Princess Ariadne?”

“You think you are the only one that visits her chambers at night. You had best forget her.”

“What if I love her?”

“I suspect you are not the only one who does so, and I also suspect that her other admirers are a lot less prone to dying on the end of a spear than us.” Daedalus walked over and tightened the straps on his son’s wings. As he pulled the last buckle, the wooden door to their compartments tried to swing open but stopped short at the iron bar across the doorway. After several more attempted openings, the voice of King Minos sounded from the other side.

“Daedalus! I know it was you who gave Theseus that string.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“The minotaur has been slain!” screamed Minos through the door, his voice choking off at the end.

“Father… what have you done?” whispered Icarus, his eyes wide. A spear pierced the wooden door. Without a word, Daedalus grabbed his son and drove him towards the window that overlooked the ocean. He yanked the lever on the wing-pack on Icarus’ back, igniting the mechanisms within and shoved Icarus through the window. He ignored Icarus’ terrified, descending yell and turned around towards the door, reaching for his own lever. His hand found it and he pulled down. The intricate gears inside the pack start began to whirl.

Just as the wings started to lift up and down, Minos’ guards smashed through the door and kicked the iron bar out of the way. Daedalus turned around, just catching sight of Minos’ red, tear-streaked face, and clambered through the window after his son. As he felt the cold bronze of a spear slice against the side of his foot, he pushed off and he dived down towards the rocks below.

* * *

Icarus and Daedalus soared through the sky, their metallic wings beating autonomously at a steady rate to keep them afloat.

“You know, I can almost forgive you for pushing me out of that tower Father,” said Icarus. Daedalus could see Icarus chuckling to himself as he said, “I always wondered what it was like to be a bird. Not even Poseidon could reach us up here.”

“Careful Son, storms are a creation of the ocean and the last thing we need is for these wings to rust.”

“So where are we to touch down?” asked Icarus, a smile still broad on his face.

“I was thinking Athens, Mycenae or even Troy. We can head almost anywhere with these wings, and that is true freedom.”

“Freedom? Or power? Do you think King Minos could do what he wanted because he was free? Because of his power, he had true freedom to do what he wanted. These two words seem interchangeable.”

“Freedom and power are not the same things, Icarus. You said it yourself; Minos had freedom because he was powerful, but even that freedom is limited. He is bound to his duties, bound to spend all his days under supervision and bound to the pressures of rule. Those who are truly free do not necessarily have power.” Daedalus was now close enough to Icarus to hear him scoff.

“Maybe this true freedom that you seem to preach to me is a form of power in itself.” Daedalus became quiet at this, pretending to be focused on navigation. He thought he saw the island of Delos below them. He also saw a flock of swans in a V-shape below them.

“What about them?” asked Daedalus pointing to the flock, “They have true freedom, but I doubt they carry the same level of power with that.” Icarus swooped down towards them and before Daedalus could cry out, Icarus had snatched at the lead swan and broken its neck. The other birds quickly dispersed in different directions in a flurry of honking and feathers.

“No, that was power,” said Icarus rising again, still holding the dead swan by the neck, “Concepts like power and freedom do not apply to animals. Animals are completely governed by instinct and are at the mercy of not only humans, but the gods as well. Animals have no freedom or power that is even worth mentioning.”

“What if that one swan you decided to kill was Zeus in disguise?” Icarus just shrugged, an odd-looking motion while he was wearing the wings.

“Then I would be dead probably. I am no less at the mercy of the gods than this swan was at mine. We are no better than animals to the gods, though perhaps a little more interesting than your average steer.”

“That may be so, or it might not be, you can’t even pretend to know the motivations and thoughts of the gods.”

“I know that they are fickle, and fight between themselves just as badly as humans fight amongst each other, and their fighting and our fighting aren’t always mutually exclusive. In reality, the only different between them and us is the level of power.”

“That’s enough!” Daedalus roared, more out of fear than rage. Even from up here, he had noticed the giant face appear in the ocean, two little islands for pupils watching them intently. But Icarus ignored his father’s demand.

“You think these wings give us freedom? All they do is make us more powerful than the rest of humanity. We are still enslaved, defenceless against the will of the gods.”

Icarus let the swan drop, its lifeless body falling into the deep-blue ocean. Daedalus just shook his head and said,

“Listen to us. We are the first, and perhaps the last men to fly above the clouds, and all we can do is argue.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so pig-headed Father, we would not need to argue so much?” Icarus grinned.

Another island passed beneath them and Daedalus noticed Icarus had started to ascend towards the clouds.

“Where are you going?” shouted Daedalus to his son as the distance between them increased.

“Above the clouds, towards the sun. Or will the sun melt these wings?” Daedalus snorted.

“They are wings of steel and gears, not feather and wax, the sun has no effect.” Icarus disappeared into the cloud bank without a reply, Daedalus reluctantly followed.

* * *

It was a lot colder above the clouds than Icarus had imagined. He thought it would have been warmer the closer they came to the sun. He looked upwards and squinted at the blinding white ball.

He heard the faint voice of his father below him,

“Icarus! Do not go too close to the sun.” Icarus ignored him and kept rising. His father had already said that the sun wouldn’t affect these wings. He struggled to look at the sun, the light near-blinding.

Despite his reservations, Icarus had to admit his father was right. The freedom they had now was worth throwing away their luxurious prison. They were free to go wherever they liked and start whatever kind of life they wanted. But his father seemed to ignore the kind of power these wings could bring. Most of the gods couldn’t even fly, except for Hermes with his winged shoes. And of course, Helios.

He was now close enough to make out the wheels of the chariot the sun rested on, and he could just see the fiery manes of the mares that were drawing the chariot, four abreast. The closer he came, the more he realised how miniscule he was in comparison. The red, burning eyes of the horses were the size of normal chariot wheels, let alone the size of the ones attached to the chariot, which had spokes as thick as columns. But size was irrelevant now that he had the power to fly.

Feeling the heat of the sun and horses, he flew up to face the towering figure at the helm, the titan Helios. Icarus could see Helios’ chiselled face was passive, and his eyes were old, cold and grey.

“Helios!” shouted Icarus. Helios didn’t respond, but without any kind of indication that Icarus could perceive, Helios drew the four-horse chariot to a stop.

“In which direction is Mount Olympus, the home of the gods?”

Icarus watched Helios blink, a slow movement that created a boom when the eyelids connected. Icarus could hear Daedalus shouting from below, but up here the air was thin and sound did not travel well enough for him to understand what his father was saying.

He felt the heat of the sun and mares beating against his skin. After a few seconds, Helios slowly turned his head to face Icarus. Under the Titan’s gaze, Icarus felt his skin flush and little nervous pin-pricks along the back of his neck. Then his skin boiled.

* * *

Helios had already continued on his pre-determined path by the time Daedalus reached the spot Icarus had burst into flames. The body was already far below him. All around, the light of the sun reflected of the small metal feathers as they floated down, which had once made up his second greatest creation.