The Lantern-Maker
In a green valley below a tall grey peak called Ember Mountain, there lived a gentle young lantern-maker named Tomas. All day he shaped glass and bent thin iron, and at night the lanterns he made glowed warm in every window of the village, like little tame stars. Tomas was clever and kind with his hands, but he was no warrior, and he had never once held a sword in his life. The greatest treasure in all his world was his wife, Maren, who was as brave as Tomas was gentle, and as kind as the morning sun.
But a long, cold shadow lay over their happiness. High on Ember Mountain lived a great and terrible dragon named Skarn, who hoarded every precious thing and breathed fire hot enough to melt stone. Once each year it swept down to take its tribute, and the brave knights who had ridden up to fight it, in their bright steel and on their tall horses, had never, ever come back down.
“One day, someone will be brave enough, and kind enough, to set us all free,”
Maren liked to say, gazing up at the cold grey peak. Tomas would only hold her hand, and hope with all his heart that she was right.
The Dragon's Tribute
One grey autumn morning, the sky went dark, and a sound like thunder rolled down the mountain. Skarn had come for its tribute. Its wings blotted out the sun, its scales were the colour of cold iron, and its eyes burned like two hot coals. The whole village hid behind shutters and locked doors as the dragon landed in the square, and its terrible voice rattled every window in the valley.
“Bring me your finest treasure, little ones, or I will burn this valley to ash,” the dragon roared.
The terrified villagers had nothing left to give, and the dragon's burning eye fell upon a small, trembling child. But before its claws could close, brave Maren stepped out in front of the little one and stood very tall.
“Take me instead, and let the child go free,” she said, her voice clear and steady.
The dragon laughed a laugh like falling rocks, snatched Maren up in one great claw, and rose into the sky. Tomas reached the square just in time to see the dragon carry his wife away over the peak of Ember Mountain, and in that moment something in his gentle heart turned to iron.
An Ordinary Man
That very night, Tomas packed a small bag, took down his brightest lantern, and told the village he was going up the mountain to bring Maren home. The people begged him to stay. Brave knights with sharp swords and heavy armour had climbed that mountain, they reminded him, and not a single one had ever returned. What hope did a gentle lantern-maker have, a man who had never thrown a punch or held a blade?
Tomas knew that they were right. He was afraid, more afraid than he had ever been in all his life. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw Maren stepping bravely in front of that frightened child.
“I may be no knight, but I love her, and I am going to try,” he said quietly.
And so, with nothing but a lantern and a loving heart, Tomas turned toward the dark mountain and began the long climb.
The Hermit and the Sunblade
Tomas climbed for two long days, up steep paths and over cold grey stones. On the third evening, half frozen and weary, he came upon a tiny stone hut where an old woman sat beside a small fire. Her name was Yara, and long ago she had been the only soul ever to escape the dragon alive. She gave Tomas a bowl of warm soup and listened quietly to his whole story.
“You cannot fight Skarn with that little lantern, child. No ordinary sword can pierce its iron scales, and no fire can ever burn it,” she told him gently. “Only one weapon in all the world can stand against the dragon: the Sunblade, a sword forged from a fallen star. It lies hidden at the very top of the Frozen Spire, and it gives itself only to a heart that is brave and true,” she went on.
Then Yara leaned closer, and her old eyes grew sad and serious.
“But there is one more thing you must know. Skarn was not always a monster. Long ago a wicked sorcerer bound the poor creature in a chain of black shadow, a cruel curse that filled its heart with greed and rage. No claw and no fire can ever break that chain. Only the Sunblade can cut through such darkness. So remember well, child: the star-sword can end the dragon, or it can cut the dragon free. That choice will be yours alone,” she said.
Yara warned him that the road to the Spire was bitter and dangerous, and that many travellers had frozen upon its icy slopes. But she pointed the way, and she pressed a warm woollen cloak into his arms. Tomas thanked her, lifted his lantern, and turned his tired face toward the peak glittering far above.
The Hard Road
The road to the Frozen Spire was the hardest thing Tomas had ever done. The wind bit through his cloak like sharp teeth. Snow filled his boots and froze his fingers until he could barely hold his lantern. On the second day, a ledge crumbled away beneath his feet, and he fell, and a sharp rock cut his leg, so that he had to bind the wound with a strip of his own shirt and limp slowly onward.
He was cold, and he was hurt, and he was terribly afraid. More than once he sank down into the snow and thought that he could go no further, that a gentle lantern-maker had no business on so cruel a mountain, and that he should turn back home while he still could.
“I cannot do this. I am not strong enough,” he whispered into the wind, with tears freezing upon his cheeks.
But then he thought of Maren, alone in the dragon's cold dark lair, waiting and hoping for him to come. Slowly, Tomas pushed himself back onto his feet, lifted his little lantern against the storm, and climbed on.
The Trial of the Sunblade
At last, frozen and exhausted, Tomas reached the very top of the Frozen Spire. There, in the heart of a great block of clear blue ice, he saw it: the Sunblade, glowing with a soft golden light, warm as summer in all that bitter cold. But as he reached toward it, a deep voice rang out from the mountain itself, asking him why he sought the blade. Did he come for glory?
For treasure? For revenge? If he reached for the Sunblade with hatred in his heart, the voice warned, the ice would never, ever let it go.
“I do not want glory, or treasure, or revenge. I only want to bring my wife safely home,”
Tomas answered honestly, his voice shaking with cold. For a long moment, nothing at all happened.
Then, with a sound like distant singing, the blue ice melted clean away, and the warm golden sword fell gently into his open hands. The Sunblade was light as a feather and bright as the morning, and where it touched him, Tomas felt his fear grow small and his courage grow tall. He was no longer only a lantern-maker. He raised the glowing blade, turned his face toward Ember Mountain, and began the long road down to the dragon.
Into the Lair
It took Tomas three more days to reach the dark mouth of the dragon's lair, high on Ember Mountain. With the Sunblade glowing in one hand and his faithful lantern in the other, he stepped inside. The cave was vast and black and stank of old smoke. Everywhere lay the dragon's hoard: great heaps of gold coins, chests spilling jewels, crowns and goblets and a hundred fallen swords.
There were stranger treasures too, for Skarn had stolen songs, and names, and the laughter of children, and locked them all away in the dark. And there, in a rough iron cage near the back of the cave, sat Maren. She was thin and cold, but her eyes were as brave as ever, and when she saw Tomas her whole face filled with light.
“I knew that you would come for me,” she whispered through the bars.
Tomas ran to her and held her cold hands through the iron.
“I am going to get you out of here, I promise you,” he said.
But just then the whole cave grew hot as an oven, and a low growl came rolling out of the darkness behind them. Skarn was awake.
The Battle
The dragon Skarn uncoiled from the shadows, vast and terrible, its burning eyes full of fury that anyone would dare creep into its lair.
“You should have stayed in your little village, lantern-maker,” it snarled, and it opened its great jaws and breathed out a roaring river of fire.
But Tomas lifted the Sunblade, and the golden sword turned the flames aside as easily as a shield turns the rain. Again and again the dragon struck, with fire and claw and lashing tail, and again and again the shining blade held strong. Tomas was no longer the frightened man who had wept in the snow. He stood his ground, quick and brave, remembering all that the hard road had taught him.
At last, as the dragon reared back to strike once more, Tomas darted in beneath its great claws and pressed the bright tip of the Sunblade to the soft place at its throat. The mighty beast went utterly still. And now, up close, Tomas saw them at last: great chains of black shadow, wound tight around the dragon's neck and wings, biting deep into its iron scales. One single push of the shining sword, and the terror of Ember Mountain would be gone forever.
The Choice
Tomas looked down the length of the glowing blade at the beaten dragon, and now, at last, he understood what Yara had meant. Wound tight around the great beast were the chains of black shadow, biting deep into its scales, and behind all its fire and fury the dragon was not truly cruel at all, only cursed, and tired, and terribly alone. For all its endless hoard of treasure, Skarn had been a prisoner the whole time. Tomas thought of his warm little house in the valley, and of Maren, and slowly his iron heart grew gentle once again.
“I have the power to end you now, and no one would ever blame me if I did. But I am not going to do that. I am going to set you free instead,” he said quietly.
And so, instead of driving the sword into the dragon's throat, Tomas raised the Sunblade high and brought it down hard upon the chains of black shadow. The star-forged blade cut clean through the cursed dark iron, and the chains shattered into a thousand shards of light and blew away like smoke upon the wind. At once the darkness drained out of Skarn's burning eyes, and the long curse was broken. The dragon stared at Tomas in wonder, for in all its lonely life no one had ever chosen to free it instead of to fight it.
Gently now, Skarn lifted the iron cage with one great careful claw and set Maren free. Then the dragon turned, climbed slowly to the mouth of the cave, spread its enormous wings, and rose up into the morning sky, higher and higher, away over the mountains, free at last of its curse and its cold dark cave. Tomas took Maren's hand, and together they walked the long road home, down the bright mountain and into their own warm valley. And ever after, on quiet nights, the people of the valley would light their lanterns and look up at the stars, and if a far-off shape crossed the moon, no one was afraid, for they knew it was only an old dragon, free and gentle at last, flying home through the night.