Once Upon A Time

Once upon a time, in a faraway place, there lived a boy named Stan. Stan was only 14 years old the day that he became a hero, and therefore, a true man.

Stan's father, Aurelius, was Dyssa leader. He was strong, wise, and kind, and he led Dyssa faithfully. Stan knew that he would have to do something extra heroic to earn the praise of his father.

One day,  Stan and his friend Mira were playing by the river when they decided to take a nap.  Together, they laid down by the reeds. it was sunny and warm that day, and Stan had a glorious nap. when Stan awoke, he realized that there was something very wrong. Stan could not find Mira anywhere.

Stan searched up and down the riverbank for any sign of Mira, but he found nothing. His heart was racing and his stomach lay at his feet. Where had his friend gone? Defeated, he returned to Dyssa, hoping that it had been some big stupid prank.

But in Dyssa, no man, woman, or child had seen any sign of Mira. The entire town stopped what they were doing. The blacksmith stopped forging. The hunters were called back with battle horn. Mothers stopped preparing dinner. Children even stopped playing.

Every able bodied person in Dyssa fanned out in pairs to look for Mira. Torches in hand, the hunting party searched well past moonrise. But they found nothing.

When Dyssa regathered at high moon, much commotion broke out. Did Mira run away? Why would she? Was she abducted? Was it the neighboring village? If this could happen to our sweet Mira, how will our children ever be safe? Some even glared at Stan, as if somehow he, a child, was to blame.

Though those thoughts were quickly quelled, the fact remained that a girl was missing, and they had no leads. Aurelius urged calm and promised that, come day, they would find her. They would send messengers to villages near and far. Their girl would come home.

As Aurelius urged villagers to retire for the evening, the night suddenly became bright as day. The sky lit up just north of Dyssa, the mountain highlighted by the glow of orange, angry fire. The villagers gasped, for it had been a generation since dragonfire had last threatened Dyssa.

There were hushed whispers. Dragon. Firemonster. Demon. It’s back. It’s coming. Eyes cast expectantly on Aurelius as his brow furrowed at the mountain. The orange glow flared once more, then died down. Darkness remained, with purple glancing across eyelids unused to the harsh daylight glow.

“The dragon…” Aurelius paused as gasps overrode his low speaking voice. “The dragon.” He said more firmly. “May have our Mira.” There were murmurs of assent throughout the crowd. “We will assemble a hunting party in the morning to reclaim her.”

“What if he eats her?” Brenda’s nasal voice grated the ears of even the most patient villager. Some turned to glare.

“Everyone knows, Brenda,” Aurelius glowered at her as well, her name dripping from his mouth, “That it takes dragons three days to eat their captives. We have time.”

“But what if he starts eating her tonight, then finishes her later?”

“Shut up, Brenda.” Piper spoke up. Every head in Dyssa nodded in agreement.

“But…” Brenda’s voice grew more shrill. Aurelius pointed towards the huts and cut her off.

“Everyone go home. We will choose the party at first light.”

As the crowd dispersed, Stan felt increasingly uneasy. In a way, he was responsible for this mess. It was his fault that Mira had gone missing. If the men of Dyssa waited until tomorrow and Mira was already dead, Stan would live with the guilt for the rest of his life.

So Stan followed his father home and readied for bed. His father said nothing of the missing girl, nor gave any indication that he blamed his son for her disappearance.

Stan began counting when he heard the rhythmic breathing of his mother, and his father’s snores drifting gently up to the loft where he lay. He counted up until he ran out numbers -- twice -- and then he crawled gently down the ladder, gathered his clothing, and made his way outside.

The moon had almost set by the time Stan had fished a spear from the blacksmith’s armor rack without setting the dogs to howl. He didn’t know the first thing about dragons, but he knew that he was going to get Mira home safe and sound.

Stan set off on the hunting trail. He was hungry, exhausted, and cold. The morning dew had set in, and the trees were just beginning to drop autumn leaves. His breath was moist and shiny in the dim of dawn.

The sun rose as he began the more arduous climb up the mountain. He knew the trail well, although he hadn’t been back in a long time. It was narrow and dense, with sharp rocks jutting out along the edge. It wound clockwise up the mountain.

Stan had to stop several times to take a breather, take a listen. The sun was lighting the night sky, and he knew that his father would soon discover him missing, if they hadn’t already. He didn’t realize it would take this long to climb the mountain.

As he drew closer to the cave, he began to analyze just how flimsy his plan was. He hadn’t slept in a day and a half. His hair was matted, he was thirsty but had brought no water. His stomach was empty. Angry.

But he no longer had fear in his soul. A touch of trepidation, to be sure. But he was far too exhausted to care much, to logically comprehend his impending doom. Mira’s name rattled around in his head as his labored breathing broke the otherwise silent morning. She was why he was here. He would risk his life for her.

The mouth of the dragon’s lair loomed large in his vision. The faded, smooth stone archway rose well above Stan’s head. He was dwarfed by its magnitude. It somehow seemed more intimidating now than it had when he had played up here as a young child. Back when dragons were all myth and legend.

An unearthly scream shattered Stan’s memory of childhood.

“Mira!” He shouted, all bark and no bite. “I’m coming!” He hefted the long, smooth spear pole in his hands and crept forward. Stan move with all the grace of a kitten finding his legs for the first time, but he made it through the archway without soiling himself.

“Stan?” Mira’s incredulous voice echoed through the chamber. “Stan? Is that you?”

“It’s me, Mira!” He shouted. “I’m coming!” He realized belatedly that perhaps shouting near a sleeping dragon wasn’t the best tactical decision. To compensate, he took a few steps toe-heel, letting the dust settle and listening attentively before moving anymore. He heard nothing.

“Stan, where am I?” Mira shouted. Her subsequent hacking cough echoed in the cave. “I can’t see!”

“I’m coming!” He tried to shout quietly, as if that was a thing. It mostly ended up sounding like he was talking to himself. He picked up the pace.

He thought he had heard her voice coming from the right, so he chose to move through the stalagmites that framed the right wall of the cave. Though the sun was rising outside, the light dimmed just a few feet into the cave. The gray, dull light made him squint. His hackles were raised, fingers ice cold, gripping the spear as if it were the only thing keeping him from falling to his death.

“Stan.” Mira’s voice was quiet, hissing at him from across the chamber. “Over here.” She paused, and then explained. “I hear your footsteps.”

“Hold on, Mira. I’m coming.” Stan felt a flush of embarrassment. Had she been pointing out his utter lack of stealthiness? When he was rescuing her? Surely not.

“Over here.” She insisted impatiently. “I can’t move. Help.”

Stan realized that he had been crouching and creeping along. For whatever reason, Mira felt that was unnecessary. He straightened up and strode boldly into the darkness.

Suddenly, Stan’s feet hit something solid and he sprawled face first onto the stone floor over a squirming bundle of Mira.

“Ow!” She exclaimed. He felt her wriggle like a fish under his ankles. “What the fuck, Stan?”

“Sorry.” He mumbled. He scrambled over her, straining around in the darkness for his dropped spear. “I’m working on it. Hold on.”

He reached into his pocket, fumbling around for his lightstone.

“A little help here?” The squirming bundle asked. “My hands and feet are tied.”

“Right, sorry. I was looking for my lightstone. I’ll just… untie… you then.” Stan’s words slowed as if he were unsure of how to proceed. He crouched down next to where he thought she was and felt for her body. “Hang on, I have to find the knots.”

His hands roamed over her body, alighting on a shoulder and then traveling down her arms until he found the troublesome knot.

“Hang on, I’ve got this.” He muttered. He dug around in his pocket, but it seemed that he had also misplaced his knife. He felt down in his boots, too, but felt nothing.

“Holy dragon testicles, how long does this take?” Mira asked him.

“I’m trying my best.” Stan said. “It’s not like I do this all the time.”

“I guess.” Mira grumbled. She shifted slightly. An awkward moment of silence passed. “Did you bring a weapon?” She prompted helpfully.

“I can try to use the spear I brought.” He admitted. He sat down next to her on the cold stone floor. “Hang on. Be still.”

Stan flipped the spear around and brought the pointy end to rest against the rope that bound her wrists.

“Careful.” Mira admonished him. He let the comment pass in silence as he slowly worked the spear’s edge through the fibrous rope.

“I got this.” He said. He could feel the rope fraying underneath his surgeon’s touch. “Almost there.” He said confidently as he felt strands break quicker in his hands.

"Okay." She said agreeably. Seconds later, the final piece broke free.

"There, your hands are good." He said, pulling the rope away from her. "Here, if you turn around a little, I'll do your feet."

"Thanks." Mira said gratefully. Stan heard her begin rubbing the feeling back into her wrists. "Where are we?"

"The dragon cave." He set the spear to her foot rope.

"No way." She was incredulous. "How the fuck did I get up here?"

"We saw dragonfire last night." Stan sawed quickly through the rope with the spear, with all the grace of taking a chainsaw to a fishing line.

"No way." She repeated. The rope binding her feet broke free.

"Are you hurt?" He asked. "We should get out of here. The dragon could come back anytime."

"I'm sore, but I don't think I'm hurt. Not seriously. Can you help me up?" Mira asked. Stan used the spear to help himself up and then groped in the darkness for her hand. He pulled her to her feet.

"Let's get out of here."

Light flared in the distance depths of the cave and Stan's heart began to race. "Did you see that?" His hushed whisper sounded braver than he felt.

"Let's go." Mira emphasized her final word as she gripped his arm tight and pulled him towards the light of day.

"No argument here." He agreed. Together, they rushed through the stalagmites and into the morning sun. Safety.

"Do you think it'll chase us?" She asked as they made their way speedily away from the cave exit.

"Let's hope not." The spear made an awkward walking stick, but it helped to balance against, because Mira was putting half her weight on Stan's shoulder.

"Do you remember anything?" He asked after a moment's silence?

"No. I just woke up and you were there." She admitted. "Before that… I don't know. Last thing I remember, we were at the river."

"We took a nap. When I woke up, you were gone." His voice caught on gone, but he swallowed and powered through. "I thought I'd never see you again. I thought it was my fault."

"How long…" She trailed off.

"Just a night. I searched all over for you, then ran home and we had search parties. Then we saw the dragonfire. Father said we'd go in the morning, but I couldn't wait. I waited until everyone was asleep and…"

"Fool." She said softly. "Now they're looking for two instead of one."

"They know where I went." His courage sounded louder than he felt. "They have to."

"Well, it was your fault." She teased gently. She pushed her elbow against his ribs. "After all, how dare you take a nap when you should've been watching my every move?"

She squeezed his arm. "Thank you, though. You're my hero."

Stan blushed. He was exhausted, bruised, and covered in scratches, but Mira was safe. That was all that mattered.

"You're a man now, don't you know?" She continued, spelling it out for him. "That was your act of manhood. You probably didn't even realize it, but I'm pretty sure rescuing a friend from a dragon counts."

"I'll be the youngest man in the entire Dyssa."

"Youngest man in a decade, at least." She agreed with him.

"But I didn't even see the dragon…" He trailed off, slowing his pace.

"It was a fierce battle." She proclaimed dramatically, lowering her voice. "There I was helpless, when Stan swooped in…" she made a motion with her free hand, "yelling his battle cry." She giggled. "He swung his … mighty … spear…" She looked quizzically at his comically large spear, but continued nonetheless, "Once, twice, and slash!" She shouted with excitement, making him jump. "He sliced the dragon open. The dragon crumpled under his thrusts. Seeing the dragon retreat, Stan took his chance and freed me from my chains. He ushered me back to safety." She gestured down the mountain. "And became a man."

Stan could feel himself blush. "But only some of that happened." He insisted. He thought he saw movement below, but couldn't be sure.

"Oh, what's a little embellishment between friends?" Mira's eyes had some her usual, devilish sparkle. "The older villagers -- is that them?" She gestured down the mountain. "I see movement. Uh, anyway. The older villagers will dispatch that dragon with ease, and who's to say who did the wounding?" She paused, squinting. He, too, squinted down the mountain. "I think that is them. Good."

Mira straightened and ruffled her own hair a bit. "Do I look sufficiently disheveled?"

"No worries there." Stan said. "You look like you've been through hell and back."

"Good. That'll add to the story.

"Are you sure about this?" He asked doubtfully. "What if they go rushing in there and the dragon is ready for them?"

"They'll be fine." She insisted. "They're men. They know what to do."

As they rounded the next corner, the search party below sighted them and gave a whoop. Stan tiredly used his free hand to wave at them, and they continued to pick up their pace as they wound down the ridge. Mira's wrists were red and chafed from the rope, Stan's eyes as red with the lack of sleep.

Aurelius and Kron were first to reach them. Kron, Mira's father, drew her up in a hug so large she could barely be seen through his bulk. As he set her down, the barrage of questions began.

"Are you ok? Are you hurt? Did you see it? Stan, what were you thinking? Did you kill it?" The questions swirled around them. Stan shook his head to clear the fog.

Aurelius stood a measured distance from his son and Mira, scanning the ridge line above them stone-faced. Stan could not tell if his father was proud, angry, relieved, or indifferent to the morning's events.

"We're fine." Mira squirmed out of her father's arms. "I don't remember anything. I woke up and Stan was there."

"I'll go up and check for any others." Aurelius was quiet, but firm. "Kron, you take Stan and Mira home. Blow the horn to let the others know that they are safe."

His tone brooked no argument. Aurelius awkwardly placed a hand on Stan's shoulder before striding off, up the mountain. Kron held onto his daughter's shoulder like he was never letting go.

"Let's go, then. I'm sure you're tired and hungry."

From that day forward, Stan was considered a man. Mira had suffered no more than a few bruises, and the incident moved largely from the collective mind and into Dyssa's storybook. As many stories do, in time, the dragon grew in size, as did Stan's heroism. Despite his attempts to keep a low profile, Stan's heroic acts clearly trumped the generation of his peers in magnitude.

Next Chapter: A Father's Judgement
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