by Chris Smith
***
Inside the cell the heat was steadily increasing but James could not escape his prison for fear of the two dragons that had already attacked twice thanks to the Shadow illuminating him in floodlight whenever he showed his face. James’ fury built as he tried to find a solution, an escape, a way to recapture the guiding light. But he saw no obvious way out of his dilemma. The creatures spouted their rage at the mere sight of him. Moreover, his so-called guardian or guide was being used against him. To cap the situation off, for the second time the Shadow had stolen, right in front of his eyes, something belonging to him. Infuriated by the thought of the thief, James’ frustration escalated. But despite his anger he continued to wrestle with the problem at hand. At least the scales of this prison offered some protection.
‘Oh my god, the cell is built from their scales. The sudden realisation hit him like a ton of bricks. The walls of this prison are made from dragon scales! He inspected a solitary white scale on the floor, picked it up and stood it on one end. On the reverse side a little flap in the skin gave him enough room to slip in his fingers. The shield covered James from top to toe. If the walls of the cell protected him from the dragons’ flames, then surely this scale would do the same out there, he deduced.
Deciding to test the theory, James manoeuvred the scale through the exit. Outside, the floodlight once again greeted his appearance. A blast from one of the dragons hit the shield with such force that James fell over. Thrown down with each effort to get up, James struggled against the might of the beasts’ fire. Exhausted by the assaults, he lay on the ground. The shield protected him like the shell of a tortoise. From underneath the skin, James could hear the Shadow, mocking him.
‘James, this isn’t good enough, you can do better than this’. And then his dad’s voice cut in. ‘Never let anyone treat you like that. Stand up for yourself boy!’ James responded and did stand up. The force of the dragons’ gusts blew him over.
The shell did its work as he hid safely beneath, protected from the fire and heat. However, the ferocity of the dragons proved too strong to stand up against. Their alternating onslaughts kept him pinned him down. With no other options available to him, James couldn’t do any better; he couldn’t be any stronger in standing up to them. His choices appeared to be limited to two: return to the cell and remain imprisoned by these creatures; or under the protection of the dragon’s scale claw his way forward on his belly, taking each inch of progress as a blessing, and see what happened.
Refusing to submit to the power of the beasts, James started crawling towards the Shadow, holding the dragon scale on his back. He progressed bit by bit over the ground. He focused on each next inch, all the while keeping one eye fixed on the dark figure clutching his guiding light. The dragons’ attacks had pushed him to the middle ground, the point directly between the opposing forces. Here the blast from the beasts hit him with an even impact, neither one having more or less effect on his progress. It occurred to James as he progressed through the assault that it didn’t matter what his mum or dad, or anyone else, thought was right or wrong. What really mattered was what he thought, what he believed and could live with.
The shadow waited until the boy had almost reached his feet before he turned and ran. Now James was on the spot where the Shadow had been, right between the two dragons. He felt a blast from one of the dragons bounce off his shield. A moment later the opposing beast let out an horrific cry and the two animals began fighting each other. No longer caught in the beam of the guiding light, and with the dragons busy attacking each other, James was free. He picked up the shield, slung it over his back for protection, and chased after the Shadow.
Racing across the rubble-covered ground James left the beasts far behind. Occasionally, he needed to scamper on his hands and knees as the ceiling of rock closed in. He raced until his legs burned with pain, running along warren after warren of passages and through many dungeons, trying to keep the glow from the light in sight. The shield hampered his progress, but he held onto it. Eventually James burst out into a massive cavern. He stood on a shingle beach, which lay before a large lake that disappeared deep into the belly of darkness within the mountain.
He estimated that the Shadow was about two or three minutes ahead of him. He could see him on the lake, kneeling on what appeared to be a black scale. The shadow paddled across the water. With a sense of anger coupled with disbelief, James realised his enemy had a plan and was playing him. Despite the sense of being led into more danger, he needed to go after his foe and chase it down.
James followed suit, using his own white scale like a surfboard. The craft wobbled as he paddled. Unable to match his foe he allowed himself to drop back a little, thereby preserving his remaining strength. James looked back across the lake. He saw the odd flash of light in the tunnels behind. War may have been raging back there but here on the lake everything was calm. It reminded James of the feeling he got when painting.