The Dreamer and The Dragon

Prelude

"All I'm saying is that it's good to have dreams, but you know..." The boy's father scratched at his beard. "...You're at the age where you can start to help me out on the farm, tend the animals, that sort of thing."

"But you know I want to study. I'm nearly too old to even get into a school and...and if I don't start soon, I'll never get anywhere!" his son snapped back.

The father sighed.

"Look, these things are expensive," he said slowly. "But with both of us working, we might be able to make enough money to get you into a school."

"No one will accept me by that time!"

"You don't even know! Have you ever actually seen a school? Of course not! You have no idea!"

"Maybe I don't, but I know they'd have a hard time letting me in. I haven't done anything in my life! Nothing! Everyone expects me to do something amazing one day, but I never will! I'm useless. I'm just a waste of space." The boy was on the verge of tears, his body shaking uncontrollably.

"You know that's not true," the father muttered, putting a hand on his son's shoulder.

"It is. It really is," he replied, fists clenched.

The boy's head suddenly whipped up, his mouth set into a grim line.

"But maybe it won't be soon." A determined look crossed his face. "Dad, you say that dragon's been stealing the cows?"

His father frowned.

"No, I didn't. What are you getti--" The colour drained out of his face. "No...No, no, no." He shook his head furiously. The boy's eyes darted to the sword hanging above the mantelpiece. Following his gaze, the father stepped in front of his son.

"There's no way I'm letting you do anything as dangerous or stupid as fighting a dragon."

"I need to. Dragon scales are valuable, aren't they? If I kill it, you won't have to work the farm anymore and I could get into a good school. Just let me take that sword. Please, Dad," he pleaded.

"No. I can't. I can't say you'd get hurt because that would be a huge understatement. You'd get killed, you hear me? There would be no chance of winning, hell, not even a chance of survival," the father shouted. "What would your mother think if she came home and you were gone?" The boy's stance faltered, but his gaze returned to the sword.

"It doesn't matter. I need to help myself. To help all of us." He lunged for the sword. His father held out an arm to stop him, but the boy was stronger than him. The father tripped, twisting his ankle as he fell. A look of horror inscribed itself on the boy's face. He hesitated, unsure of what to do next. His eyes flicked from his father to the sword and back again before he made his decision. The boy grabbed the sword off its stand and bolted out the door.

***

He was crying, but that didn't matter. Tears streamed across his face as he ran down the dirt road and into town. People whispered as he ran past.

"Isn't that Joseph's kid?"

"What's he doing with that sword?"

"My, that boy has always been a strange one, hasn't he?"

"Maybe he's taking care of our little dragon problem?"

"Hah! Yeah right. Maybe if he was his father."

No one made any attempt to stop him. He left the town's border and made off into the countryside, panting and nearly exhausted. Finally, he stopped at the crest of a hill and slumped into the grass.

The boy had lain still for almost an hour in an attempt to regain his energy. Eventually, he stood up and wiped the last of the tears from his eyes.

"Hear me, dragon!" he shouted. "I know you live here. Come out and fight me!" He waited for a few seconds. His only reply was from a raven in the distance.

"The beasts my father fought were never as weak and pathetic as you! Come on!"

He shouted until his throat was sore and the sun was setting. Having spent his energy again, the boy fell to the ground.

He woke to a chilling breeze across his back. Realising he must have fallen asleep, the boy clambered to his feet and rubbed his eyes. In the distance, something roared loudly. It was finally time.