Tower of the Furnace

This short story was inspired by a writing prompt: “A legendary dragon is on its way to capture a princess. Plot twist: the princess kidnaps it and temporarily locks it away in her tower to teach it a lesson.”

I drew in a deep breath before standing on tiptoe to grip the rough metal bar above me. A jump off the the thin mattress below my feet launched me up. I gritted my teeth as I pulled myself up, my legs bent at the hip to keep from touching the ground. One hundred pull ups later, I changed my grip to lift myself up and over the bar. The metal bar pressed across my hips like ice seeping through my thin blue tunic. A familiar burn raced through my arms as I locked my elbows to stay aloft. Just before the heat turned to white-hot agony, I pitched myself forward to spin about the bar. I came back into the same position, swung a few times to get momentum and raised my legs above my head. My arms quivered with the strain as I held the handstand on the narrow metal bar.

Suddenly, my elbows bucked. My legs fell from their height, ribs colliding painfully with the bar. The air knocked out of me, I fell to the mattress with a silent scream. The thin padding barely cushioned my fall. I stared up at the winding staircase spiraling above me.

My breath came back to me at a rush, billowing from my parted lips like a frosted cloud in the cold room. I gasped, pulling myself into a sitting position. I kneaded the heel of my hands into my eyes. Sweat coated my brow and underneath my sleeves. I stood slowly, glaring up at the exercise bar. If I couldn’t master it, I would certainly never master a dragon.

I shivered as a breeze filtered through the cracks in the stone walls. I gazed about the round room, pacing to give my muscles a chance to recover. My room held an archery target, a rack of swords, climbing wall, and exercise pole. In the mornings, I ran three circuits up and down the my rail-less staircase. When I first started this routine three years ago, my leg had slipped through the gap between two steps. I had nearly fallen to my death. That was the day I realized that I could die in this prison, and no one would know. It was also the day I ditched my silken slippers. I had never worn shoes again.

I rolled my shoulders before going back to the bar. I heaved myself up, repeating my chin ups. My father’s voice urged me as I continued to pull myself up. The familiar memory replayed in my mind, as clear as my present surroundings.

“If you are to be queen of my people, you must prove yourself capable. Etiquette, diplomacy, negotiation, law-making, they are fine things. But ultimately, you must prove your strength. You must show you will fight, that you will give everything for your people, for your crown, for the Kingdom of Gae’est.” My father’s face was solemn, his eyes piercing.

“I have spent years studying to lead your people. Surely that is sacrifice enough,” I scoffed. “I am of age to take your throne. Tradition demands…”

“—You know nothing of tradition!” He roared. I stepped back. My father had never shouted at me before. “Tradition demands that you prove yourself. Living a life of luxury and provision does not do that, no matter the hours you have spent in study. You will prove yourself as every heir has for hundreds of centuries, including myself and your grandmother. You will be sent to the coast, to the tower.”

“What tower?”

“The Tower of the Furnace. It is a sacred place to our people, its ritual a closely guarded secret among the court of our kingdom. You will spend time in seclusion, only your most basic needs provided for. If you survive the tower, you will face the Iron Dragon. He will seek to capture you, to make your imprisonment lifelong. Should you succeed in defeating him, you will prove yourself worthy of bearing my crown on your brow.”

Horror and anger pooled in my stomach like hot metal in a smith’s mold.

“You want me to kill a dragon?” I shrieked. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier? Why haven’t you prepared me? I know nothing of combat! I’ve never even held a sword!”

“The tower will have everything you need to prepare, however you choose to do so.”

“You send me to my death!” I screamed. I stared at my father in disbelief. I thought he cared for me. “You would condemn me to a dragon’s wrath? Your own daughter?”

“I would have you prove yourself. The tower will ready you for the throne in ways you cannot even begin to understand. If you are strong enough to defeat it, then you are strong enough to bear the weight of this kingdom on your shoulders.”

Barely a day later, I was shoved into the high tower by my father’s soldiers. I howled in rage as they locked the wooden door behind me. I pounded at the door, demanding that they release me. Two days later, I had broken one of the swords using it to pry wood from the door, only to find the entrance had been walled up with bricks. It was then that the fullness of my situation crashed down upon me. My anger and frustration turned to an all-consuming despair and sorrow. I had cried for hours, slumped against the door, the wooden chasm and brick wall separating me from everything I had ever known and loved.

Three years later, I barely recognized that girl. The fragile princess who prided herself in her studies, singing voice, and complexion had turned into nothing short of a warrior. My thick chestnut hair that I had always let flow free was now constantly braided tight to my scalp, out of my way. My slender arms and shapely legs had turned sculpted with hard muscle, my soft hands calloused from sword and bow. I who had meals prepared for me since birth now cooked my own from the vegetables I grew in window boxes at the top of the tower and the simple supplies stocked in the cellar below my training room. There was a well in the cellar as well, and I who had always had perfectly heated baths drawn for me, now hauled my own freezing cold water for bathing. I who had slept on thick mattresses with soft pillows and warm covers curled on a hard wooden cot with one woolen blanket — my mattress was already in use in the training room. I who had woke up to warm fires in the winter learned to start my own. I who had worn silk and satin all of my days now wore coarse cotton and leather.

I finished my routine, though I forewent the handstand. I dropped lightly to the ground, stretching my arms above my head. It was nearly noon. I went through my stretches before running up the staircase to my chamber at the top of the tower. I popped through the trapdoor into what served as my bedroom, kitchen, living room, and library. There was a fireplace to the north across from the trapdoor. My cot was to the east, a bookshelf full of my law books and those on combat, weapons, and medicine my father had provided to the west. Next to the small shelf stood a creaky cupboard and a straight-backed chair. A wide window was to the south, where my window boxes held their meager crop of two tomato plants, one pepper plant, and herbs for medicine.

I turned to go to my cupboard when something growled behind. I turned, instantly alert. Sitting on my cot was a… creature. My eyes widened. Golden eyes met mine as it cocked its diamond shaped head at me. Coal grey scales covered its body, glinting in the winter sun’s light from the window. Claws like an eagle’s were on its front legs, black and sharp.

Gathering my wits, I jerked a cleaver from the open cupboard shelf behind me. The creature hissed, rising on its hind legs. Wings spread out behind it as it glared at the weapon in my hand.

“You cannot be serious,” I gasped. It was barely a foot long and not nearly as tall, but there was no mistaking its distinctive form: it was a dragon.

“You?” I whispered. “You are my great test?” I shakily lowered my knife, gaping at the winged beast. “I have spent years training for the day you appear. And you are to be my opponent?” My voice rose in volume as rage filled me. “What mockery is this? I’ve seen rabbits bigger than you! You are to conquer me?”

“Mock me not!” The thing screeched, its voice high and hissing. I raised my knife again swiftly.

“You speak?”

“Yes, I speak, foolish princess. You have learned nothing in your time here. You will not defeat me. I shall hold you here till the end of your days. One as weak as you has no hope of being free of me!” I stared at the tiny dragon incredulously.

“What would something like you possibly hope to do to me?”

“Fool! You think all threats come in great shape and size, with physical strength and power! You think because your body is strong that your mind and heart are as well! Idiot child! You have learned nothing!”

“You dare call me fool?” My voice was a growl now.

“So wrapped up in yourself, in your own survival.” The grey creature hissed disapprovingly. “You think nothing of your kingdom and your people! Only yourself and your own pretty neck. You have not changed. Not truly.”

“Silence!” I screamed. “You do not know what I have endured, what I have suffered in the name of my people! You think I will be so easy to conquer, and you make yourself the fool!” I lunged forward with the knife, striking at the creature’s neck. The dragon flew out of reach with a growl. It swooped nearer, avoiding my slashes and scoring my shoulder with its claws. I cried out in pain, pressing a hand to the wound. It came away scarlet with blood. I shouted at the creature in outrage. I swung the knife when it suddenly dropped from my grip. I frowned and tried to bend to pick it up. but found my body would not respond. I panicked, trying to force my legs forward.

“You are so confident in your strength. What will you do when it is stripped from you?” the dragon asked menacingly. A cold chill went down my spine. I could not move.

“Are you so strong now, princess?” I recoiled, trying to open my mouth in a scream. The thing was inside me. Its hissing voice filled my mind and my thoughts. I tried to shake my head, to force the creature from my mind. Pain shot up my body, a throbbing fire igniting in my veins. Agony filled me, but I could not cry out. My legs bent against my will, and I knelt in front of the dragon.

“I am the Iron Dragon of Mind and Will. I am the Knife of Thought, the Thief of Desire. I will keep you prisoner here for the rest of your days. You will never be free, weak child! You will submit to me, foolish princess. Submit to me, and your struggle will end. I can give you happiness, pleasure. Peace and contentment for you, a life free of pain, all in the comfort of your own mind. Submit.”

“No, no, no. No, I won’t! No, no!” I gritted my teeth as my mind screamed at the creature.

“I will feast on your mind, devour your resolve until you are no more than a shell. Even your weak passion will feed me for almost a century. And when I have grown strong feasting on your mind, then I will be strong enough to dine on the people of Gae’est, until the entire kingdom is mine!”

“No! No, I…” My vision blurred, a furor of pain blooming behind my eyes.

“Submit, and the pain will pass. I can make you dream of peace, of your fine palace and royal family. Your death would be a happy one, surrounded by those you love. Submit, little princess. Let the pain end.” The words barely made sense to my agonized mind. I wished so badly to scream, to cry, to release the pain that roared through my very spirit.

“Submit,” the foul thing ordered inside my mind. Visions of my father and mother filled my mind. I remembered the palace I had been born in, the people I had stood before, the great city I had been raised in. I saw my kingdom, and the pain increased until I saw stars.

Suddenly, the vision changed. My kingdom was overshadowed by the body of the now grown grey dragon, its mouth open in a harsh roar. Bodies lay in the streets. Cold, stiff, pale bodies of beggars, soldiers, merchants, and craftsmen. Men, women, elders, children, infants. A bloodless war, a conquering without violence. This is what I condemned my people to. Death by an enemy who destroyed their very minds. All because I could not defeat this beast. Because I had failed them. I shuddered with a new kind of pain that lanced through my heart and soul.

“Submit!” demanded the dragon again.

“No! Never…”

“Submit, or spend an eternity in agony!”

“I won’t!”

“SUBMIT!”

“NO!” The shout was torn from my lips. I met the dragon’s gold eyes. “I am Princess of the Kingdom of Gae’est… Heir to the throne… and Warrior of the Tower of the Furnace! You… will not take my will… and you will not take my people from me! You will not take my kingdom and you will not take my crown!” I had risen shakily to my feet. The grey creature glared at me, pushing my mind. Agony wracked me again, but a new clarity had risen in me. I had to prove I could defend my people, not by a ritual or a tradition, but by achieving victory over its greatest threat. Not the dragon; myself. Should I fail, I would bring about my people’s end. I was the last line of defense. I would be leader of my people. If I failed them, it would rest on no other’s shoulders but mine own. My strength, my decisions, my fight: that is what the fate of my kingdom rested upon.

A new steel filled me. I drew the love of my people about me, focusing on that. I pushed against the dragon’s paralyzing hold, sharpening my determination into a spear against the creature’s torment. “I am Protector of the people of Gae’est, and you will not take them from me. You will submit to me!” I lunged forward, my kitchen knife finding purchase in the dragon’s eye. The dragon shrieked horribly, falling to the floor. The pressure on my mind left abruptly as the dragon howled shrilly. I gripped the creature by the neck, lifting it. I fled down the stairs with the screaming dragon. In the center of the training room, I lifted the trapdoor to the cellar and flung the tiny dragon into the dark underground pit.

“You wished to keep me prisoner. You wished to take everything I love,” I shouted imperiously. “Learn what it is to suffer such a fate yourself!” I slammed the trapdoor and locked it. I fell to the stone floor and lost consciousness.

When I woke, a figure was standing over me. I looked blearily into the eyes of my father. His hair had more grey, his face more lines. But I would know him anywhere. I stumbled to my feet, glaring at him.

“You have survived the Tower of Furnace trials, and you have defeated the Iron Dragon. Your mind and heart are strong. You have proven yourself ready for the burden of the kingdom, my Queen,” said my father, my heart nearly stopping as he knelt and bowed his head before me.

“Queen?” I whispered.

“Queen.” He looked up at me, tears in his eyes. I was stunned by the pride in his blue gaze.

“All of this…”

“Your will was forged in the Tower of the Furnace. Your determination to survive, to live for your people, to do your best by them, was made strong enough to withstand the might of the Iron Dragon.”

“Not my body. My mind,” I whispered in comprehension.

“And your heart. You spared the dragon.”

“No. No, I wanted him to know… to understand what it was to be trapped. To be a prisoner. It was not compassion, it was justice.”

“Justice with mercy.”

“Perhaps.”

“It was indeed merciful,” a terrifyingly familiar voice hissed. I turned to see the tiny dragon behind me, its eye healed.

“You!”

“Me. I am no enemy, child. Long ago, I became your family’s ally. I have tested your ancestors for thousands of years, watched the throne pass from child to child of your family. But none were able to resist me so completely as you, and all of them attempted to kill me. None chose to spare my life, even as none were fully successful in taking it. It is my privilege to call one such as you my queen.” The dragon bowed its head. Tears flooded my eyes. I turned back towards my father.

“I proved myself?” I whispered.

“Beyond a shadow of a doubt, Your Royal Majesty, High Queen and Protector of Gae’est.”

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