Editor's Note: "The Dragon Catcher" was inspired by the Summer 2002 contest picture. However, this story so caught the imagination of the staff of TOI, that we simply had to give "The Dragon Catcher" a place of prominence on the fiction board as well.

Once upon a time, in a land long ago, there lived a thatcher and a princess who fell in love. David Thatcher had been hired to repair the roof of the royal stable in the kingdom of Nonamar, and one day while working on the roof, he met Princess Sarah who had come to visit her horse. From then on they shared stolen moments of laughter and horseplay amidst thatch weaving and heart-twining. But after the roof was completed, a palace wall, a moat, and a guarded bridge separated any hope of a future for them, forcing David to seek desperate measures.

Day after day he sat on the edge of the fountain in the town square watching for her carriage. He knew that, sooner or later, it would emerge from the palace gate and pass his way. He was ready with a plan, and Munch had agreed to help. David glanced at his best friend, tending the pastry stall nearby, flirting with the miller’s daughter, his belly jostling at his own jests. Munch had better be ready! If he botched his part in the plan, David promised himself, Munch the Baker’s son would have eaten his last cream puff.

The sound of carriage wheels rattling down the cobbled street quickened David’s heart. He turned to see Princess Sarah’s face framed by the royal carriage’s window, her eyes anxiously searching the crowded street. When she saw him, her lips formed an O of astonishment.

Suddenly a pastry cart toppled into her horses’ path. Pastries and pies flew everywhere and flour bags exploded into blinding puffs, causing chaos in the square. As her guards flung themselves off the carriage and into the fray, Sarah extended her delicate hand out of the window and dropped her handkerchief to the cobbles – an excuse for a respectful approach.

Immediately David sprang for the handkerchief, but a bony, long-fingered hand snatched it up ahead of him – Ickinsneed, the King’s Counselor! He had rounded the carriage with the speed of a man half his age. “Abide by the law, commoner. The rule of thirty feet.”

“In a crowded market place?”

Ickinsneed rose to his full, lanky height and stared down his hooked nose at the boy. “I say again, the rule of thirty feet. Or the dungeon for you.”

“But I’m – ”

David had been about to say nobility, but caught himself in time. How could he betray the trust his forefathers had handed down to him; his great grandfather’s secret preserved for generations, his family’s heritage? His family curse, more like! He was a Torrlaine, and proud of it. But no one must ever know that. For their own sake! And the kingdom’s! He backed away, but winked at the princess despite “old dragon-breath.”

Ickinsneed raised his hand to signal the guards, but David grabbed Sarah’s perfumed silk from his claw and escaped into the crowd before they could catch him.

“Who is that boy?” Ickinsneed demanded of the Captain of the Guard.

“Isn’t he the thatcher they hired to repair the royal stables?” replied the Captain.

The king’s counselor noted the smile on Sarah’s face. “His interests rise far above a stable’s roof, apparently!” snapped Ickinsneed.

A short time later, Munch arrived back at David’s cottage. He entered the kitchen hoping to find something to eat and was surprised to see a large hole in the floorboards where the table usually stood. Suddenly, a satchel popped out of the hole to land at his feet. And a dusty, cobweb-covered David pulled himself out next.

“What in the Kingdom of Nonamar are you doing?” asked Munch.

“The only way a commoner can ever marry a princess is by becoming a knight.”

“And how do you plan on doing that, pray tell?”

“It’s still possible to earn knighthood in Nonamar by an act of heroism. And what does every hero need?”

“A villain?” asked Munch.

“Exactly!” said David taking a scroll out of the musty old satchel and tossing it to his friend.

Munch unrolled it and as he read, his eyes widened. “The legendary Dragon Catcher wrote this. To his descendants!”

“Yeah! It’s hard to believe, but I’m a Torrlaine. My great-grandfather was the Dragon Catcher but, after imprisoning the last dragon in his star-lamp, he had to flee Nonamar and go into hiding to keep the lamp safe from wicked sorcerers who believed they could restore dragon souls and use them to accomplish their evil deeds. My father, a common thatcher, was the first descendent of Alexander Torrlaine to return to Nonamar.”

“David Torrlaine. You’re Sir David Torrlaine! And did the star really fall from the sky, straight into your great-grandfather’s bathwater?”

“A gem of some sort,” said David, “only moments before he got in the tub.”

“And that’s the lamp he put the gem into, wrapped up in that satchel,” asked Munch.

David removed an ancient-looking lamp from the satchel and cracked its visor. Instantly a blinding light shone through. He snapped it shut. “Guess it still works.”

“And what does that matter?”

“Well, if the sorcerers were after the lamp, the star-gem surely must have the power to restore dragon souls as well as take them.”

“Oh no!”

“Oh yes!”

“You’re crazy! You can’t fight a dragon!”

“Of course I can,” said David, dusting the lamp off.

“No you can’t! You must know how dangerous they were?”

“I’ll just restore Grunden. He won’t be much trouble.”

“Grunden?”

“He was the oldest.”

“And the fiercest!”

“I’ll bargain with him, his freedom for helping me.”

Munch rolled up the scroll, deep in thought. He looked at the door, then back at David. “Well,” he said, clearing his throat. “Every knight needs a squire. I guess.”

“No, my friend. Thank you, but I’ll go to the dragon’s lair alone as my great-grandfather did. Like him, I won’t endanger anyone else, especially my best friend. However, there is one thing you can do for me.”

“Talk you out of this?” asked Munch, putting on a brave smile.

That evening King Godfrey, Queen Angineen and Princess Sarah were enjoying dessert in the palace gardens when: “Here comes you-know-who,” said the Queen in the King’s ear.

“Oh, no!” said the King. “He’s smiling.”

Ickinsneed glided to their table and bowed. “Ill news, your majesties.”

When is it not, thought Sarah?

“It grieves me to report that the royal princess has been dallying beneath her station.”

“Oh my!” said the Queen. “Is this so, Sarah?”

The princess glared at Ickinsneed.

“When you say dallying, what do you mean precisely?” asked the king.

“Consorting with a thatcher.”

“And consorting…”

“A tryst each morning and afternoon in the stable. Sometimes she would invite him down from the roof for a horseback ride, and sometimes he would invite her up to the stable roof, ahem, for the view.”

“You could have fallen to your death!” cried the Queen.

But I did fall – in love – Sarah thought.

“There’s more,” said Ickinsneed sublimely. “You are aware of the disturbance in the town square this afternoon?”

“Of course,” said Godfrey and Angineen together. “But, er, why don’t you enlighten us as to the details?”

Ickinsneed happily obliged. “And what do you suppose this boy had on his mind?”

“A tryst?” asked the King.

“Or a kidnapping!” suggested Ickinsneed.

The Queen gasped and covered her mouth with both hands. Then she embraced her daughter forcefully.

“This is preposterous!” cried Sarah.

“This must be nipped in the bud,” said Ickinsneed. He had a lot more to report concerning the stable trysts, but the king cut him short.

“When you say nipped, what is it you want precisely?”

“Permission to arrest the common thatcher.”

“Don’t let him, Father!”

“Aren’t you going a bit too far, Counselor?”

“Am I? Well then, permission to arrest the villain when next he attempts such an affront. I say ‘when’ for he surely shall.”

“Father, Mother, we want to be married!”

That was the wrong thing to say. Both her parents stared at her in amazement, then anger. “You are confined to your room in the tower, young lady,” said the king, in that voice she had learned not to question for at least an hour. “Until this matter has been fully investigated.”

If I had wings, she thought to herself, I’d fly to David right now!

David had been wishing he had wings for hours. Weighted down by a heavy satchel, the climb to the top of Mount Saurmees had been quite difficult, but thoughts of Sarah kept him going. Night had fallen by the time he located the secret entrance to the dragon’s lair shown on a map in his great-grandfather’s letter. But of course it was always dark in that cavern, which was how his great-grandfather Alexander had discovered the virtue of the gem.

The fallen star had been so bright, Alexander had put it into a lamp to light his way. With his sword ready in one hand and the open lamp upheld in the other, he had crept upon the sleeping dragon. To Alexander’s surprise, when Grunden’s eyes snapped open, a white mist instantly flowed out of one eye and straight into the lamp. Afterward, Alexander realized that the gem had the power to capture a dragon soul, the first of many dragon souls for Sir Alexander Torrlaine and the legendary star-lamp.

Following in his great-grandfather’s footsteps, with the star-lamp’s visor only partially cracked for light, David came at last upon the ancient mound of empty dragon flesh and bones, the scales a tarnished green, the eyes still eerily frozen open. He shuddered and took a step back. Would he prove to be as brave as Alexander the Dragon Catcher? Then it occurred to David that Alexander would be turning over in his grave if he knew what his great-grandson was up to.

But thinking of Sarah, he opened the satchel and put on his great-grandfather’s chain mail, helmet, and cloak. Now he truly felt like a knight, a Torrlaine, equal to the task before him. He readied himself, and stepped forward. Extending his arms, he fully opened the lamp’s visor, shining the star in all its brightness upon the dragon’s body. In reverse of the legend, a glowing white mist rushed out of the lamp, back into the dragon’s eye, the window to his soul.

All at once, the scales changed from a dull green to shiny black. The dragon yawned, shook himself, sniffed the air, and let out a roar.

David felt faint, but dimmed the lamp and held it steady between them.

“Who hath disturbed my delightful slumber?” Grunden bellowed. “Alexander? Is it thee?”

“No. My great-grandfather has been dead for more than a century. My name is David, descendant of the great Alexander Torrlaine, Dragon Catcher of the Kingdom of Nonamar. My great-grandfather imprisoned your soul in this lamp. I have just now released you.”

Grunden proudly inspected his beautiful black scales. “Ah, ‘tis my youthful self again.”

“Released you for a purpose, that is!”

“How intriguing? Do go on, young David.”

David explained his plan for becoming a knight in order to marry the Princess Sarah. “And in return for your help, you shall live free.”

Grunden thoughtfully clawed his chin. “Release all the dragons in the lamp, and I shall play thy game.”

David adamantly refused.

“Very well then, release my brothers, Bruden and Ratcher, and my beloved, Fiera.”

David again refused.

Grunden snorted, and out came a small burst of flame, almost reaching David.

David thumbed the visor open, exposing a bit more light toward Grunden.

Grunden spoke quickly. “Release Fiera. My mate for thine. ‘Tis only fair.”

David reluctantly agreed, getting the dragon’s promise in return that they would live far away from Nonamar. He glanced over his shoulder, half expecting to see the ghost of his great-grandfather materializing in rage.

The next morning, breakfast was delivered to Sarah in her confinement. After the servant departed, she turned and saw the apple turnover on the breakfast tray. Quickly she tore it open, knowing that Munch had delivered another message from David.

He asked her to be on her bedroom balcony by midmorning. “Trust in our love,” he wrote, “and, no matter what your eyes behold, do not be faint of heart.”

Leaving the breakfast tray behind, she immediately went out to wait on the balcony.

Mid-morning was the time of day her mother and father customarily shot at clay pigeons. But on this particular morning, their attention was drawn to a large dark object in the sky, approaching at great speed.

“What do you suppose that is?” said the king. “Surely, that is the largest bird I have ever seen.”

“It must be a flock of birds,” said the queen.

“Flying so closely packed?”

Then it was above them, circling the courtyard and spewing fire, and everyone in the courtyard was running around like mad, screaming and shouting, “Dragon!” and “God, help us!” A dragon had not been seen in Nonamar for more than a century.

Then, to the king and queen’s horror, it headed for their daughter’s tower.

Sarah stood frozen, her white-knuckled hands gripping the balcony’s rail. “Oh, David! Not this!”

Grunden swooped down towards her. Sarah fainted just as his talons closed around her. Before anyone could take action the dragon, with Princess Sarah in his grip, disappeared up into the clouds.

King Godfrey snapped into action, and within the hour his knights and men-at-arms were assembled before him in the courtyard, awaiting his orders. Ickinsneed escorted Queen Angineen to the king’s side.

She touched her husband’s arm. He had not been dressed in full battle armor in more than a decade. A tear rolled down her cheek.

King Godfrey patted her hand, and launched into an inspiring battle speech on dragon-chasing and princess-rescuing.

Ickinsneed squinted into the near distance. “Ahem.” His bony elbow nudged the king. “I direct your majesties’ attention to the mounted knight with a fat squire walking at his side. See? They approach the rear ranks. Is that not your daughter on the knight’s horse with him?”

Angineen gripped her husband’s arm to steady herself. “Oh my stars! It is our Sarah!”

At King Godfrey’s signal the ranks parted, allowing the knight with Princess Sarah to advance. The king and queen waited anxiously.

“What house could he belong to?” said the king. “Notice his family’s crest has been removed from tunic and shield.”

“And such old-fashioned armor,” said the queen. “And such an old nag for Sarah to be riding in on!”

“That fat squire looks familiar,” said Ickinsneed, suspicious of this well-staged rescue. Then a dark spot in the sky caught his eye. What could that be?

Sarah slipped off the old mare and ran to her parents, and hugged and kissed them both. “Father, Mother,” she said with a grand sweeping gesture toward the knight, “I want you to meet the hero who rescued me from the dragon’s jaws!” She said this loud enough for all to hear her.

Ickinsneed watched the dark object circling closer, and growing larger. Larger than any bird!

The stranger dismounted and bowed before the King and Queen.

“Our thanks, noble hero,” said the queen.

“What is your name, sir, and that of your house?” asked the king.

“My name is quite common, and my house a humble one.”

Ickinsneed stiffened at these words, but his attention was still on the giant bird. Bird? Ah hah! The dragon.

“Your squire, sir,” said the queen. “He looks like our baker’s son.”

“Baker? Baker?” said Ickinsneed, recalling an overturned cart in the town square.

“Raise your visor, sir, and show me your face,” said the king.

“You!” cried Ickinsneed, recognizing David. “The thatcher!”

“My hero,” said Sarah. “David saved my life.”

“But his quest has failed,” said Ickinsneed.

“When you say failed – ” said King Godfrey.

“The dragon lives. Look!” Ickinsneed stabbed a bony finger at the sky.

Everyone gasped and looked up. But there was nothing save a few silvery seagulls against a clear blue sky.

“Dear, dear Ickinsneed,” said the queen, “you have been standing out in the sun far too long this day.”

“So! You are the common thatcher that is in love with my daughter?” Godfrey demanded.

“I am he, my lord king.”

Godfrey drew his great sword.

“Father?” said Sarah, clutching her heart.

“And you slew the dragon that captured my daughter?” asked Godfrey.

“The dragon is no longer a threat, my lord,” David answered.

“Kneel,” said the king.

A relieved David knelt on one knee, and the king touched the royal blade to his shoulder.

“Wait!” cried Ickinsneed.

“Wait?” inquired the king. “What do you mean – wait?” he barked.

“Your pardon, majesty, but I tell you, this thatcher is a thief and a liar. The entire affair has been concocted by him and that baker’s son! The thatcher undoubtedly found the old armor buried somewhere and convinced some dragon to capture the princess so he could rescue her for the very purpose of being knighted.”

“Do give it up, Ickinsneed,” said Angineen.

The king shook his head sadly, and proceeded with the ceremony of knighthood. “I dub thee Sir David of…er…”

“Thatcher will be fine, my lord.”

“Rise, Sir David of Thatcher.”

The celebration of Sarah’s safe return and David’s knighthood lasted the rest of the day. It was twilight by the time the couple finally escaped alone into the royal gardens.

Strolling hand in hand they came upon Munch, propped against an old garden wall, fast asleep, his mare tied to a tree branch nearby. David had asked him to find a safe, out-of-the-way place to guard the star-lamp hidden in the satchel on the saddle. “So much for Munch’s guard duty!” said David, unhooking the satchel.

“It was dear of Munch to loan you his horse this day,” said Sarah, stroking the mare’s nose. “And without his apple turnovers, we might not be together.”

“Yes, he is a loyal friend,” David agreed.

They started up the garden path. “Now that we’re alone,” said Sarah, “will you tell me where in the Kingdom of Nonamar you found a living dragon, and how you convinced it to capture me but not kill me or anyone else?”

David was about to answer when suddenly the old garden wall Munch was sleeping against made a great shudder, and groaned loudly. Sarah screamed. Munch woke with a start and, in a flash, jumped behind the two of them. David pulled out the lamp and opened it enough to shed some light ahead in the dusk.

A dragon body rolled over to face them, slowly opening one eye. “Ah, is it thee, Torrlaine? I was hoping thou and thy lovely maid wouldst find me here.”

David and Sarah couldn’t believe it was Grunden. The shiny blackness of his scales was gone. He certainly had the look of an old moss-covered wall. What could have happened to him? “Why have you come here to the castle gardens?” asked David.

“I was flying around keeping an eye on thee.”

“You mean the lamp.”

“I saw thee knighted. A pretty sight.”

“I thought we agreed that I would meet you at Fiera’s resting place.”

“Who is Fiera?” asked Sarah.

“How many dragons did you promise to free?” Munch piped up.

“Free dragons?” Sarah exclaimed. “David! What sort of pact have you made with this dragon?”

David stammered, feeling the disapproving presence of Alexander once again.

“Our agreement, my dear,” Grunden corrected. “Having first freed my soul from the lamp, your hero agreed to free my mate if I wouldst play the villain.”

“Freed your soul from the lamp?” asked Sarah. “That’s the Dragon Catcher’s lamp?”

David spoke up quickly. “Again I ask, why are you here?”

“Oh, I was just resting from the day’s activities.”

He looked old as his ancient years, tired and worn out. “The truth, dragon. Your color is not good.”

Grunden let out a great sigh, and then confessed. “Regrettably, my life will not last much longer in this deteriorating flesh, and I will not subject my mate to this mortal doom.”

His words touched Sarah. “Is there anything we can do for him?” she asked.

Munch nudged David. “Maybe you can get him back into the you know what.”

“I wish there was something we could do to help you,” said David, hefting the lamp and opening its visor a bit more in the growing dark.

Grunden considered the lamp for a moment. “Methinks thy squire is correct. P’raps ‘tis best to leave my mortal flesh behind, preferring immortal life in the lamp with Fiera, such as it was.”

David wasted no time. “Get behind the mare and close your eyes,” he told Sarah and Munch.

Munch ran for the horse. Sarah had more questions but, trusting David, followed after Munch. She put her hands over the mare’s eyes, then closed her own. David put on the helmet and gathered his great-grandfather’s cloak around him for some protection against the star-gem’s light. “Grunden, I owe you my thanks. There has never been a time when fire-dragon and man have worked together as you and I have today. It’s a pity dragons and men could not have lived together in peace.”

“Anything is possible,” said Grunden, “but I fear the time for dragons has ended.”

David looked back to be sure that Sarah and Munch had their eyes closed, then faced the dragon and fully opened the lamp.

As the star-lamp shone upon Grunden, a large swarm of gnats attracted by the bright light was suddenly caught up in the stream and flowed, along with Grunden’s soul, into the lamp. Instantly the lamp became too hot for David to hold. He dropped it and jumped back. The lamp broke apart. The star-gem burst into hundreds of tiny lights, spreading quickly throughout the garden.

“David!” Sarah called anxiously. “Are you all right?”

“What’s going on?” yelled Munch.

“I think it’s safe now,” said David. “Take a look at this.”

Sarah opened her eyes. “What in Nonamar are all these tiny lights, twinkling around us in the dark!”

Munch impulsively reached out and cupped one of the lights in his hands. “They’re bugs! Bugs that light up!”

Sarah caught one too and took it to David. They watched in amazement as the bug glowed on and off in her hands. “They’re such gentle little things,” she said. “Be careful not to crush them, Munch.” Then she released it into the night air.

David picked up the broken lamp. There was no light. The star-gem was gone. He looked to where the dragon had been lying, and saw only a small pile of ash, slowly blowing away in the gentle night breeze. He watched the strange little bugs lighting up in the night all around them. “Of course!” cried David. “They’re free. They’re all free.”

“David,” Sarah asked, “ when you say free, do you mean – ”

“Yes! Grunden! Fiera! Bruden and Ratcher! All the dragons are free!”

“How incredible!” said Sarah.

“Which one do you suppose is Grunden?” Munch asked, looking around.

“Too bad my family went into hiding,” said David. “Now that we know dragons are useless to sorcerers.”

“Is anyone hungry?” Munch asked.

“So,” said Sarah, “you’re a Torrlaine. The Dragon Catcher’s direct descendent no less. I’d love to hear the story. Is there a happy ending?”

And David, Sarah and Munch strolled off among the strange little bugs that glowed with dragon-fire in the night.

Story
(c) 2002
By Virginia and Geoffrey Werner
All Rights Reserved

Mr. Werner is a Christian who teaches eighth grade language arts and college English, as well as history and martial arts. He writes fiction from a Biblical persepective as a hobby. Mrs. Werner is his wife, and extremely talented authorial counterpart!

Illustration
(c) 2002
By Edward Shuman
All Rights Reserved

Edward Shuman is an art student at the University of Kentucky.