A Knight, a Princess, and a Dragon

Now as wonderful as heroes are, the story books teach us that heroines are quite just as important. Even the best knights only reach their potential with the help of kind and courageous princesses. A life with no one to fight for is a lonely life indeed.

And Mikhail was lonely.

He did not know how long he had wandered alone through the great forests after casting off his armor and leaving Spirit behind. His beard had grown long and tangled, his body had grown thin on a rough diet of berries and river fish, and his shoulders drooped with shame.

The ashrooms had long kept Mikhail numb to sadness and despair; they had kept him from experiencing life in all of its rich complexity. Now, for the first time he could remember, he felt sorrow...felt it more deeply than he imagined was possible. For a life that is truly lived to its fullest is hard at times. Sometimes even the bravest knights and the kindest princesses have bad days. That is what makes the wonderful moments of life, so...well, wonderful!

But for Mikhail, wearily rounding the last bend in the road that lead to his home village, this was not one of those moments. Many moons had waxed and waned since he last crossed under the familiar birch gates. The colorful leaves of fall had all but fallen from the trees as he made his way through the village center at sunset and came to a fork in the road. Before him, in the distance, stood the Village Elder's house. A welcoming whisp of smoke curled from the chimney. To his left lay the western field, and beyond that the forest, and somewhere deep in the dark shadows of those thick Siberian firs lay the secret ashroom cave.

Swallowing hard, Mikhail strode past the dark path and approached the Elder's familiar house...his home. Weary as he was from long months of sorrowful wandering, Mikhail still remembered that the best decisions always lead home to family. And when his adoptive father burst from the cottage door and wrapped the fallen Knight in the tightest of bear hugs, Mikhail's shoulders felt lighter than they had in a long, long time.

As you well remember, the Village Elder was a kindly man who loved the Knight as if he were his own son. And love has a way of unlocking hearts and loosening tongues. Mikhail told him everything. The Elder listened quietly as Mikhail related his journey to the far North, his difficulties hunting the dragon, his long stay at Altai Village, his friendship with the lost Princess, Aruzhan, and his heartbreaking discovery that he, a noble knight who fought so hard to be faithful and true in all that he did...had also been a wicked dragon all along.

At this the Elder's eyes glittered, and a tear ran down the old man's cheek to match Mikhail's own sorrow. The bowls of borscht grew cold as the two men sat in silence, the son ashamed and hurting, the father wishing he knew how to help. Sometimes, even the very best of parents don't know the right answers to give their children, though they dearly wish they did.

“I finally understand you now, Andrey,” the Elder spoke softly to himself as he gazed out the window at the cold autumn rain. “I finally understand...”

“My father?” Mikhail slowly lifted his head to stare at the Elder in surprise. “Understand what?”

“Understand why he didn't kill the fearsome dragon that attacked our village that night you and I were in the woods. He could have, you know,” the Elder smiled as though recalling pleasant memories. “Andrey was the best dragon hunter of his day. A mighty knight, fearless and kind. Like father, like son, Mikhail Andreyevich.”

“Vitaliy was the better Andreyevich,” Mikhail answered bitterly. “My brother was the very example of faithfulness and truth. He would be ashamed of what I have become because of those cursed ashro--”

Mikhail stopped as though bright snow had been thrown in his eyes. Only he and Vitaliy had know about the ashrooms. And if the poisonous plant had turned even a noble knight such as Mikhail into a wicked dragon, then Vitaliy...

“And now you understand as I understand,” the Elder nodded sadly. “Have you never wondered, Mikhail, why you still carry your father's sword? Why it didn't disappear along with him that night?

Mikhail stared down at the dusty scabbard that hung loosely from his ragged belt...the only piece of his armor that he had brought back with him. “Father never even put it on for the battle,” he spoke softly.

“Because he left your house that night to save, not to slay,” the Elder finished the thought. “To save, if he could, your brother from himself and the monster within him.”

“Small comfort to the monster who has been left behind.” 

 “You are no monster!” the Elder replied sharply.  “Whatever else you are, you are a knight, a man of nobility and kindness.  You must choose to believe that.”

And Mikhail wished he could.  But sometimes it is difficult to see the best in ourselves, even when those who love us see it so clearly.  Without another word, Mikhail stood from the table and, with a deep bow of respect, excused himself for the night.