The island of Fryst lies at the heart of the Northern Seas. The sun rarely graces the earth with its warmth and for most of the year it’s completely covered in snow and ice. Yet there are still those who would call this frozen, wet heap of rock home. Nine year old Askar is one of them, his ancestors being among the first Viking seafarers that settled on its shores.

Yes, Askar Brandr Bergfalk II had a proud heritage as he came from a very long line of great and noble Dragon Slayers. He is the only son and heir of Jarl the Dragon’s Bane, chief of the Tribe and probably the greatest Dragon Slayer the world has ever seen! Or at least in the Northern Isles, which was the only world Askar fancied he’d ever get to see anyways…

While his pedigree and status were a cause of envy for every other child on Fryst, Askar often found himself cursing ever being born with such a fate. He stood leaning on the wooden rails of a large warship, sighing and wishing for umpteenth time today that he had been born in a very average family with a very average legacy to have to live up to.

Behind him were nine other young girls and boys from his village, all chattering with nervous excitement on the events that would soon come to pass. The adults that manned the ship were laughing and singing heartily while they worked, as if celebrating a joyous occasion. Well, to everyone except Askar, this was a joyous occasion.

The ten children, including Askar, were to partake in one particular tribal tradition that occurred once every three years; The Dragon Initiation Assessment. It was a test of sorts that all young Slayers had to undergo before they could start officially training to slay dragons.

“I hope I get some serious scars!” An overexcited boy shouted.

“I know right? Like a big jagged one over your cheek!” another exclaimed. Askar gulped and unconsciously brought a thin, pale hand up to his freckled cheek.

“Yeah! Or right over my eye!” the boy squealed back.

Askar blanched and covered his eye; the butterflies in his stomach began churning and stirring up his breakfast. He swallowed thickly and leaned further out onto the railing. While scars were considered a sign of strength and on Fryst were worn with pride, Askar was not too keen on the thought of being mutilated beyond recognition…

Gleaming amethyst eyes stared gloomily down at the swirling blue-grey ocean, following large chunks of ice as they floated by. As it happened, staring at the waves that splashed and rocked the ship from side to side was not helping the boy keep his breakfast down… So he tried staring up at the grey snowy sky instead.

The dark, soupy clouds spewing powdery white snow to the earth below and blocking out the sun did nothing to improve his mood. If anything it made his misery seem ever more justified… It seemed as though the Gods were playing one big practical joke on Askar’s life, purely for their own amusement…

Every other boy and girl there was tall, brawny and all in all had very large “Viking-ish” physiques. But Askar was a bit on the small side, rather scrawny and lanky, with knobby knees and bony arms.

He had very average face framed by light ashy-grey hair that would stick out and no manner of combing or wetting it down would convince it to lie flat. He had taken to hiding it under his hood or a helmet ever since someone said it looked as though he had a pair of floppy bunny ears… which was not flattering and greatly wounded his manly pride…

The only nice feature Askar possessed (in his opinion) was his eyes; large, thick-lashed and a very unique colour of amethyst purple. His father said he had the eyes of a beast, which was enough to convince the man that his son could one day become a great warrior. Not that it mattered much since he rarely met anyone’s eye, always keeping his gaze downwards.

Being small and scrawny made him a great target for bullies. On Fryst, your worth was measured by your strength; it was a very ‘brawns over brains’ type of society. And Askar, while having great deal more in the ‘brains’ department, had next to nothing in the way of ‘brawns’… which is not very ideal when you’re the chief’s son…

Yep, life really sucked for Askar, he didn’t have a friend in the world at only nine years of age...

………

“ALRIGH’ PAY ATTENTION YOU LOT!” Bellowed Bjarni the Screech. He was the soldier in charge of the initiation and was one of the best dragon Trappers on the island. All the kids, including Askar immediately snapped to attention; Bjarni the Screech was not a man to be ignored after all. “LINE UP!” he yelled (he was the kind of man that had no volume control).

Askar stomach dropped as he scrambled into line with the others; Bjarni calling them like this can only mean one thing… They’ve reached their destination… Oh the joy… Askar thought, holding back another sigh.

“THIS IS YER FIRST MILITARY OPERATION AND SINCE HE IS YER FUTURE CHIEF, ASKAR WILL BE LEADING THE TEAM!” He announced, strolling down the line authoritatively.

“Oh no, not Askar...” A big lump of a boy named Grimsly groaned, several of the others joining him.

“Ya can’t let ‘im lead us! He’s nothin’ but dragon bait!” An equally large, but much more dangerous looking boy named Snorri sneered, receiving nods and grunts of agreement all round.

Askar Brandr Bergfalk II, the only son and heir of Jarl the Dragon’s Bane, miserably pulled his fur lined hood up over his head and sank into the soppy wooden planks below his feet. Secretly he agreed that someone else should lead them... Not that he’d ever dare say it out loud, he’d been humiliated enough already.

“SHUT YER TRAPS!” Bjarni silenced them with a great roar and a terrifying glare. “ASKAR, THE SON OF YER CHIEF, WILL BE IN CHARGE AND THAT IS AN ORDER!” He put extra emphasis on the words ‘son’ and ‘chief’ as if to make his point more clear. “EVEN THO’ HE IS ADMITTEDLY TOTALLY USELESS.”

Thank you very much, Bjarni… Askar thought dryly, resisting the urge to groan and bury his face in his hands. Is it too much to ask for someone to defend me without the insults?

“NOW!” Bjarni carried on explaining. “TODAY IS AN IMPORTANT DAY FOR YA YOUN’INS! YA HERE TA PROVE YERSELVES CAPABLE OF BECOMING DRAGON SLAYERS! AND AS TRADITION STATES YA MUST DO THIS BY,” He paused dramatically; scanning his one beady eye over the children’s faces as they quivered with anticipation (all except Askar’s, that is). “KNAPPING A DRAGON!”

Askar quietly groaned in dread while the others gossiped loudly and excitedly among themselves. He happened to know quite a bit more about dragons than all the other kids put together. He’d been fascinated by these unique fire-breathing reptiles ever since he can remember, and spent many an hour studying them in both books and in real life.

However, dragon-watching and reading in general were considered things for nerds and geeks, so he kept it all very secret. His father in particular would not be pleased if he found out about his son’s very unmanly hobby…

Of course, his studies on dragons were purely for the purpose of learning more about his future enemies (or so Askar liked to tell himself). And all his findings so far had concluded that this little dragon knapping mission was absolutely, positively, stark raving mad! We’re all gonna die… he thought matter-of-factly, trying not to groan again.

Bjarni roared for silence again before he carried on explaining their task, “THERE ARE TWO PARTS TO THE DRAGON INITIATION ASSESSMENT. THE FIRST PART IS A TEST OF YA COURAGE AND SKILLS AT KNAPPING! EACH OF YA IS TO STEAL YERSELVES A DRAGON HATCHLING, AND THAT IS WHY WE’VE SAILED OUT HERE TO DRAGON LAGOON!”

The ship suddenly lurched to a halt, nearly throwing Askar off his feet and he stumbled to regain his balance. They were now surrounded by huge glaciers and the sea around them was almost completely frozen. Thick trails of smoke and steam can be seen billowing up over the tops of two glaciers that towered above the ship.

“SEE THAT SMOKE OVER THERE? THAT KIDDIES, IS YER FIRST GLIMPSE OF THE LAGOON!” Bjarni chuckled ominously.

Dragon Lagoon was actually more of a volcano; a ring of rocks sheltering a shallow inlet was the ‘lagoon’ part. During the summer the island was teaming with dragons of every shape and size, apparently they liked the volcanic landscape. But in the winter the dragons would return to their nest to hibernate and the lagoon was totally silent, void of life.

However, this was the island where most of the baby dragons would spend their very first winter; hiding away deep in the caves. They would not emerge until the warm weather returns and not leave until they are big enough on fly on their own.

“RIGHT! LET’S GET GOIN’ THEN!” Bjarni clapped his big meaty hands together cheerfully, “GRAB YER BASKETS AND YER GEAR AND WE’LL BE ON OUR WAY!”

Nine boys and girls scrambled to grab their things; Askar on the other hand, was in no hurry and slowly pulled his rucksack over his shoulder and reached for his basket. The baskets all had coloured bands around them so you knew whose was whose. Since Askar was the son of the chief, his basket had a gold band around it.

Once they were ready, ten young soon-to-be Dragon Slayers in-training and Bjarni the Screech disembarked the ship. The crew waved the ten children off proudly as they waded through the snow after Bjarni. Most children waved back, promising glory and boasting about how they’ll be stealing the biggest and most dangerous dragon of them all.

Nine year old Askar Brandr Bergfalk II, the only son and heir of Chief Jarl the Dragon’s Bane, trudged miserably at the back of group as he headed unknowingly towards his destiny…

2: Chapter Two: It's in the Blood

On this very barren frozen chunk of sea, the group of ten children led by a very deranged looking, and incredibly muscular man looked rather out of place indeed. And out of all the children, Askar looked most out of place among them; this smallish boy trailing along after a line of strong battle-ready children.

To be fair, little Askar was younger than all the other children undergoing the Initiation this year. On Fryst when a child reaches the age of ten, he or she is considered old enough to enter the workforce and earn their keep. Times were tough and everybody was expected to help out in some way or another.

Even so, children can’t be expected to fight the dragons that constantly raided the village like a relentless plague of swarming locusts. Mostly they help out with the repairs, the fire patrols and the like, all while they trained to become proper Dragon Slayers. That being said, you weren’t ‘officially’ allowed to join the training classes until you passed initiation.

And since the Dragon Initiation Assessment only occurs every three years, people tend to get a little worked up over it. You would be considered disappointment and bring great shame on your family if you failed it. Failing the Assessment meant waiting another three years to retake it; three years wasted not learning how to kill dragons!

If you haven’t already guessed, killing dragons was everything around these parts.

However, as it happens, Askar is not ten, but nine. As the son of the chief he’s been given the “privilege” of being able to take the initiation early… (Rather, his father forced him to and didn’t get a change to refuse.) He would have very much preferred to have waited another three years when he would be a bigger, stronger twelve-year-old (hopefully).

But no, poor Askar had to take the “Initiation of Doom” now, when he is only nine and hasn’t even hit his growth spurt yet! Though, he seemed to be the only one who was worried that they were about to march into the lair of hundreds of sleeping dragons! Even Balder didn’t appear all that concerned that they were headed to their probable deaths!

Balder was a ten-year-old, slow, chubby and all round geeky boy who was blind as a bat without his glasses. He was a bit like Askar, being a thinker instead of a fighter and the two of them got along fairly well when they were smaller… But over the years they’d grown apart, mainly due to Balder not wanting to be the target for bullies anymore…

He had grown larger and fatter as he got older, fitting in more with the rest of their peers. Sure, he was still pretty nerdy and terrible at sports, but at least Balder could swing an axe! Askar could barely even lift one, let alone fight with it and he remained small and weedy.

So, Balder gave into peer-pressure and drifted further and further away from Askar… leaving him to face his bullies all alone, only offering a guilty look now and then. But Askar couldn’t really blame him. Who would want to be friends with the smallest, weakest Dragon Slayer in the history of Fryst? No one, that’s who…

He’d just be dragging Balder down if he’d stuck around anyways…

………

As the group got closer to the lagoon, this horrible stench, like rotten eggs, became stronger and stronger. “Sulphur…” Asker mumbled quietly to himself as he pulled his scarf over his nose in an attempt to keep out the yucky smell. There were few complaints about the stink though, mainly since Bjarni the Screech held little tolerance for complaining children.

Bjarni had been lecturing them on the history of the Dragon Initiation Assessment and various other related traditions as they trekked over the ice. Askar had heard all these stories dozens of times before so he wasn’t really listening. Rather, he was preparing himself mentally for the task ahead.

“AS YA KNOW, WE SLAYERS ‘AVE A LITTLE ‘PEACE TREATY’ WITH THOSE SOFT-MINED, YELLA BELLIED NEWTS THAT CALL THEMSELVES DRAGON TRAINERS.” He then spat a huge revolting glob of yellow mucus into the snow, as if the very act saying ‘Dragon Trainer’ left a bad taste in his mouth.

For the people of Fryst it certainly did. They all knew dragons were big, dumb, evil, vicious creatures that only cared for themselves and simply could not be trusted. Attempting to train a dragon was a stupid waste of time and anyone who tried was either an idiot, bewitched by the scaly devils, or both. And nothing would change their minds on the fact.

“NOW, THE RECRUIT WHO PERFORMS BEST OUT OF ALL OF YA WILL BE WINNIN’ THE HONOUR OF SLAYIN’ HIS, OR HER, DRAGON AT THE THOR’S DAY THURSDAY BANQUET!” The children gasped eagerly, as Bjarni paused chuckling.

They all wanted to be the one who gets to kill the dragon, but Askar didn’t even bother to hope it could be him. No, he was just gonna focus on getting out of this thing alive and passing so he wouldn’t disappoint his father. He really hated disappointing his father…

“AND AS PART OF THE TREATY, THE REMAINING NINE DRAGONS WILL BE SENT OFF AS TRIBUTE TO THOSE RUDDY TRAINERS.” Bjarni finished with grunt and a dismissive wave of his hand.

Clearly he didn’t like the idea of giving these defenceless, killable dragons to a bunch of dragon-sympathising loons, but he wasn’t going to defy his chief’s orders either. No one wanted to restart that long gruelling war with the Dragon Trainers; especially when they already had their fair share of problems fighting against wild dragons…

Fryst was, unfortunately, located right next door to the dragon’s nest, making it a constant target for the hungry dragons. Yes, they had quite the pest problem and Askar often wonder why his ancestors had settled here in the first place. Then he remembered that they had been Vikings, and Vikings have serious stubbornness issues… and suicidal tendencies…

…Which is also why they had refused to leave even after seven generations of dragon attacks…

I must have inherited those damn suicidal tendencies too… Askar thought cynically. Why else would I be out here risking my neck for no good reason? His thoughts were broken when he tripped over some frozen coral sticking up out of the ice and fell face first into the snow.

By the time he had picked himself up and scurried to catch up with everyone, they had reached the edge of the Lagoon. Ten boys and girls tilted their heads back and stared up in awe at the high frozen peak looming over them. Smoke rising from the rocks and the bubbling of the still unfrozen Lagoon reminded them they stood on an active volcano.

“FEAST YER EYES KIDDIES!” Bjarni grinned, showing off his crooked yellow teeth, and waved theatrically at the smoking mountain. “THAT THERE LAGOON MAY LOOK INVITING, BUT, THEM WATERS IS HEATED BY THE VOLCANO! YER’D BE BOILED ALIVE IN A MATTER OF SECONDS! HAR, HAR, HAR!” He laughed heartily at the anxious expressions now marring the children’s faces.

The lagoon stretched out before them, the only thing completely untouched by snow and ice. All in all, it looked more like a vast bubbling stew… The image of a hundred foot tall giant sitting beside a boiling cauldron flitted into Askar’s mind as he regarded the mountain again. He’s always had a very active imagination…

………

Once they had all lined up again, Bjarni continued explaining at full volume, “NOTICE THE THREE CAVES NEAR THE BASE OF THE MOUNTAIN?” Ten sets of eyes rested on the three black holes carved out of the rocks. “THE CAVE ON THE FAR LEFT LEADS TO A CAVERN WHERE, AT THIS VERY MOMENT, HUNDREDS OF DRAGON HATCHLINGS ARE IN THE MIDST OF THEIR WINTER SLEEP!”

“Oooooh!” Gasped the children, still high with excitement. Askar gulped nervously.

“YA WILL BE ENTERING THE CAVE ON YER OWN; I AM TOO LARGE TO FIT THROUGH THE ENTRANCE. ONCE YA ARE INSIDE, YA WILL QUIETLY – AND I MEAN QUIETLY – MAKE YER WAY TOWARDS THE DRAGON NURSERY. WAKE EVEN A SINGLE ONE OF THEM HORRID LITTLE BEASTIES AND THEY’LL SET UPON YA LIKE A SWARM OF HUNGRY PIRANHAS!

“HAR, HAR, HAR! THEY’LL BE NOTHIN’ LEFT OF YA ‘CEPT A ICKLE PILE OF BONES. THE GOOD NEWS THO’ IS THAT HEROES WHO DIE IN BATTLE GO STRAIGHT TO VALHALLA~! HAR, HAR, HAR!” He broke off his little ‘pep speech’ into a wheezy laughing fit, which then turned into a coughing fit. Askar felt even more miserable than before, and thoroughly sick with nerves.

Bjarni finally recovered and went on explaining, “RIGHT! NOW, THEM TUNNELS RUN ALL THE WAY THROUGH THE MOUNTAIN LIKE A PITCH BLACK MAZE. SO REMEMBER TO STAY ON THE PATH MARKED OUT FOR YA OR YA WILL BE LOST FOREVER IN THERE!” He seemed highly amused by all this…

Well this just keeps getting better and better, doesn’t it? Askar thought with a dry laugh.

“ONCE YA ARE INSIDE THE NURSERY, EACH OF YA WILL STEAL ONE OF THE SLEEPING DEVILS. LIFT IT CAREFULLY FROM ITS NEST AND GENTLY PLACE IT IN YER BASKET. RIGHT! ANY QUESTIONS?”

Baldur put up his hand. Bjarni proceeded to ignore him and strolled down the line, “IF ANY OF YA MISERABLE SCALLOPS SHOULD BE STUPID ENOUGH TO WAKE THE DEVILS, RUN LIKE THUNDER FOR THE ENTRANCE! THEM COLD-BLOODED BEASTS DON’T LIKE THE COLD WEATHER AND THE SNOW WILL PROBABLY STOP THEM FROM CHASING YA.”

Probably…? Well, isn’t that just dandy… Askar thought.

Balder’s hand was still raised, “Umm, s-sir I have a—”

“I’D ADVICE YA TO TAKE A LITTLE TIME TO CHOOSE YER DRAGON.” Bjarni continued, ignoring Balder. “THE BIGGER AND DEADLIER THE BEAST YA CATCH, THE MORE POINTS YA EARN! THIS IS YA FIRST DRAGON KNAPPING EXERCISE AND YER WILL BE WANTING TO GET AN IMPRESSIVE BEAST! A ROUGH GUIDE WOULD BE…”

He paused, running a hand thoughtfully through his raggedy straw-like beard. “CHOOSE THE BIGGEST CREATURE THAT YA CAN FIT INTO YER BASKET! NO NEED TO REMIND YA THAT RETURNING WITHOUT A DRAGON IS HARDLY WORTH COMING BACK AT ALL. THIS IS A VERY SIMPLE MILITARY OPERATION AND WE HAVE NO USE FOR FAILURES AND DISGRACES! IT’S SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST OUT HERE! ONLY THE STRONG ENDURES!”

“ONLY THE STRONG ENDURES!” Eight children echoed enthusiastically back at him. Askar sighed and stared down at his snow covered feet, while Balder persistently tried in vain to get Bjarni’s attention.

“RIGHTEO THEN! GET GOING YA WRETCHED LOT! YER WILL RETURN TO THIS SPOT IN AN HOUR’S TIME WITH YER CATCH OR NEXT I’LL BE SEEING YA, IS IN VALHALLA! BRING US HONOUR AND GLORY!” Bjarni roared enthusiastically and slapped Askar on the back. “LEAD THE WAY FUTURE CHIEF!”

The blow knocked all the wind out of Askar’s lungs and threw him face first into the snow. He lay there for a few seconds while the others snickered and started heading off on their own. Sighing again, he staggered to his feet, brushed off the snow and stumbled towards the caves.

I can’t decide which is worse… death at the teeth of hundreds of dragon hatchlings, or the look my father will give me if I fail this ridiculously stupid test… He thought unhappily to himself as he trudged along. Things can’t possibly get any worse than this…

Meanwhile, Balder had finally managed to get Bjarni’s attention, “Umm, s-sir I have a…” he trailed off at the look of pure contempt Bjarni was giving him. “Uh, n-never mind!” he squeaked finally and raced after the others.