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Dragon Tales I: Icarus

You knew he would be here, this dragon, lying in the sun in this grassy clearing. Actually, he isn't that hard to miss, being a dragon lying about in the open after all. Deep golden scales cover him, save for the line of red fins that run down the entire length of his neck, back and tail. Great leathery red-gold wings lay folded against his back, only twitching slightly in rhythm with the dragon's restful breathing.

As you approach, the eyelids slide open. The wedge shaped head rises up on a long serpentine neck as golden eyes regard you with curiosity and intelligence. A pair of short horns project up from the creature's forehead, curving forward slightly like the horns of a goat. The eyes blink once as the deep rumble of the dragon's voice reaches out to you.

"Greetings friend; what is it that brings you to my clearing this day? A story? Well yes, I may know a story or two if you truly wish to hear one. Please sit and be comfortable, it is not so often that I have visitors who wish to chat. So what type of story shall I tell you today; a story of love and romance, war and conquest or maybe just a flight of fancy?"

"I know. Since this seems to be our first gathering, I shall tell you a short story from your own history. I shall tell a story about Ancient Greece. Not so much about Greece actually, but the Isle of Crete. A Crete long, long ago, back when the land was ruled by the harsh and wicked King Minos..."

The golden-hued dragon reached out with one hand and extending a taloned finger, proceeded to draw a concentric circle in the dirt, marking it with many glyphs and strange symbols. As he did so, the dragon growled deep in his throat, uttering words in a language both ancient and powerful. The circle of glyphs offered a soft glow of blue light at first, but soon became bright enough that one needed to look away lest the light pain the eyes of those watching. A moment later the light faded, revealing a long white feather lying upon the circle.

"Long ago, there was a man, an artist, builder and creator of things wonderful named Daedalus. Daedalus was a fine artist and superb architect, but tragically came to the ire of the King. You see, the king commanded Daedalus construct a great labyrinth near his palace at Knossos to imprison the Minotaur, a half-man, half-bull figure. You see, Daedalus himself gave Minos' daughter, Ariadne, a ball of string in order to help Theseus, the enemy of Minos, survive the Labyrinth and defeat the Minotaur."

The dragon paused, waving one hand across the air before him in a dismissive gesture. "But I digress, Theseus and the Minotaur is another story."

"King Minos quickly learned of the role Daedalus had played and banished Daedalus and his son Icarus, imprisoning them in a great tower upon the Isle of Crete. King Minos then forbade that Daedalus ever leave while the artist still drew breath. Daedalus contrived to make his escape from his prison, but could not leave the island by sea, as the king kept strict watch on all the vessels, and permitted none to sail without being carefully searched. Then one day as Daedalus pondered in his tower, a bold thought crept into the artist's mind."

"Minos may control the land and sea," said Daedalus, "but not the regions of the air. I will try that way."

"And so, Daedalus called Icarus to him and bade his son to gather all the feathers the winds drew down from the mountains and cliffs about Crete and bring them back to his workshop. Then Daedalus wrought the feathers together beginning with the smallest and adding larger, so as to form an increasing surface. The larger ones he secured with thread and the smaller with wax, and gave the whole a gentle curvature like the wings of a bird. For days the pair worked; the boy gathering and the father crafting in secret. When at last the work was done, the artist tried on his creation and waving his wings, found himself buoyed upward and hung suspended, poising himself on the beaten air. Heartened by his invention, Daedalus worked even harder, unraveling the secrets of flight. He next equipped his son in the same manner, and taught him how to fly, as a bird tempts her young ones from the lofty nest into the air. When all was prepared for flight, he said, "Icarus, my son, I charge you to keep at a moderate height, for if you fly too low the damp will clog your wings, and if too high the heat will melt them. Keep near me and you will be safe."

"While he gave him these instructions Daedalus fitted the wings to Icarus's shoulders. Then rising on his own wings he flew off, encouraging his son to follow, and looked back from his own flight to see how his son managed his wings. Finally, the duo was away, winging through the air and towards freedom. The soldiers of King Minos gnashed their teeth and shook their fists in the air, but for all their anger, were powerless to stop the father and son. As they flew the plowman stopped his work to gaze, and the shepherd learned on his staff and watched them, astonished at the sight, and thinking they were gods who could thus cleave the air."

"They passed over Samos and Delos on the left and Lebynthos on the right, then out over the deep blue of the sea as they flew."

As the dragon spoke, his leathery, red-gold wings opened and spread wide, mimicking the movements of gliding through the air.

"I can understand their joy; to fly, to soar, to be free and alive. Icarus however, had ever been known as a fanciful lad and exulted in his flight. He began to leave the guidance of his father and to soar upward as if to reach heaven. The nearness of the blazing sun softened the wax which held the feathers together and slowly at first, then faster as he danced through the sky. Finally, tragedy struck, and the fabulous wings came apart all together. Icarus fluttered with his arms, but no feathers remained to hold the air and so down he fell, plunging into the depths of the sea."

"Meanwhile, when Daedalus turned and discovered that his son was no longer following, flew back and sought for his missing son. His father cried, "Icarus, Icarus, where are you?" as he flew in search. At last he saw the feathers floating on the water, and understanding the tragedy that had befallen his son, bitterly lamented his own arts. Heartbroken, he finally reached the far-away shores in safety and called the land 'Icaria' in memory of his lost child. Later, Daedalus arrived safe in Sicily, where he built a temple to Apollo, and there, hung up his wings as an offering to the god of the Sun so that he might watch over the spirit of Icarus."

The dragon paused, finally waving his taloned hand over the circle once. The feather again glowed blue before fading into nothingness.

"And thus ends our tale of poor Icarus. Perhaps you learned something new and perhaps not, but the story if Icarus has deep roots. Did you know that the Military Academy of Aviation in Greece is named 'The Icarus School' in reference to this very story? Ah history, mythology, fantasy. The deeper one goes, the more blurred those lines seem to become sometimes. Perhaps if you come back, I might tell you more..."

The dragon's lips curled in a sly smile, "...but that would be a story for another day."

~Fin~

**Credit where credit is due, this is my own rendition of the story of Icarus. _ ** 'Icarus'** _ originally written by Publius Ovidius Naso , also known as Ovid.