The Wings of Icarus
In the distance, the Sun rose from the ocean’s depths. It was a rosy-fingered dawn that crept over the waters. A young boy watched the beautiful sight in the eastern sky with his arms folded beneath his chin as he leaned on the windowsill of his chamber. The window faced south toward the Ionian Sea and was the only opening in the dreary circular room. The stone chamber sat atop the tallest level of the Tower of Wind.
A flock of seagulls flew across the sky, which the boy viewed as a good omen. At only twelve years old, Icarus was tall for his age but had a lean frame and a boyishly handsome face. His brown hair matched his honey colored eyes, which complemented his thin lips, sharp nose, and dimpled cheeks. On trial days, he always wore his lucky leather sandals and blue tunic, and today he would need all the good fortune the gods could spare. He turned and walked toward a man sleeping on the opposite side of the room.
A black beaked, gray and white feathered parrot squawked in its birdcage at the center of the chamber. This was Benu, an African gray parrot that Icarus’ father received as a gift from a grateful king long ago. Icarus leaned down and tapped the birdcage.
“If our creation works, we will fly just like you, Benu,” Icarus proclaimed.
“You will die,” Benu stated mockingly. The parrot swayed from side to side with a titter. Benu was an intelligent bird that could mimic any word he heard with annoying repetition.
“Do you always have to speak?” retorted Icarus, displeased. The bird whistled enthusiastically.
The cold, dark chamber contained a few scant personal items from a previous life. Pottery that Icarus’ mother made when he was younger, two serving bowls with wooden ladles, and a toy figurine the boy had outgrown. Colorful drawings lined the walls, created from the imagination of a child with too much time on his hands. There were no bars on the window, but what greeted the inhabitants of the chamber beyond the walls was a steep drop that ended in the rocky shores below.
Icarus kneeled at his father’s bedside and shook the sleeping man’s shoulder. “Father, it’s morning. Today’s the day we finally escape this prison,” said Icarus excitedly.
Daedalus groggily turned his head to face his son. Still half-asleep, his eyes adjusted to the boy’s face. “Is today the day? I’d forgot. You’ve only mentioned it every morning for many moons,” grumbled Daedalus with his eyes half shut.
Daedalus looked older than he was, but years of forced imprisonment and hard labor seemed to have aged him. He was lanky and balding, with a long black and a gray beard that hung down several inches from his face. Using his thin arms to push himself off the bed, he sat up and knuckled his eyelids. “We have to wait for the right moment, Icarus,” said Daedalus.
“We’ve waited long enough. It’s time,” responded Icarus. The boy had good reason to doubt his father’s willingness to escape. They had come close to fleeing several times only to have Daedalus delay at the last moment. If the craftsman noticed a strange occurrence or felt a bad omen, that was enough to postpone. Hours turned to days, and days turned into seasons, but the boy continued to wait.
Daedalus had good reason to fear their escape; he did not have the opportunity to test their invention. There would be no trial runs, only one chance to flee or perish. The flying machines required a strong wind to carry them off the tall tower to the fields below. As much as the inventor prepared, there were still too many risks that put his son’s life in peril.
The craftsman stood tall and stretched his thin body to the ceiling. He wore the same stained tunic from his workshop since it was the only garb he possessed. Daedalus was known as the world’s greatest craftsman. He could delight children with a music box or topple an empire with an innovative weapon. That was why King Minos locked him and his son in the tower years ago and forced the brilliant inventor to build weaponry for his army.
Daedalus placed a hand on Icarus’ head and tousled the boy’s hair. “It depends on the winds,” Daedalus said as he stepped toward Benu’s cage. He kneeled down and picked up a feather lying on the ground. Benu ate seeds from his feeder absentmindedly. Daedalus held the feather to Icarus. “You do the honors,” he said.
The boy took the feather in his hand and held it close to his chest. “The gods and strong winds are with us today,” he whispered to the feather. He walked to the window and released the quill into the wind. It fell and disappeared from view. Disappointed, the boy’s shoulders slumped as he turned to his father. “I prayed for good winds, but the gods must have better things to do.”
Daedalus looked out the window and saw the feather float up in an updraft. “Look,” urged Daedalus excitedly. Icarus turned and saw the feather float up as if held by a playful spirit. This was something that had not happened for quite some time. Finally, strong winds, thought Icarus eagerly.
“Will die,” repeated Benu.
“Quiet you,” responded Daedalus coldly.
Outside the door, footsteps were heard sprinting up the stairs. Benu squawked in alarm. Daedalus looked to his son and pressed a finger to his lips. “Tonight,” he whispered. He bent down to lace his sandals, as the latch outside of the chamber was removed.
The door swung open, and two soldiers stood on the other side with their hands on the hilts of their swords. Their ragged uniforms consisted of sandals, grieves, a breastplate, and a leather skirt. The armed men stepped inside and examined the small chamber.
“It’s time for the morning inspection,” said the gruff soldier. Of the two men, Daedalus only feared the gray-haired soldier with the old scar across his milky white eye. Even the other guards detested their insufferable commander. His name was Magus, and he was tasked with protecting the estate and guarding the captives by order of the King. He considered the responsibility bestowed onto him to be a great honor.
The younger soldier searched the room for any suspicious contraband. Meanwhile, Magus scowled at them all from the entrance. After a few tense moments, the soldier relented. “Nothing here, sir,” said the young man.
Magus eyed Daedalus suspiciously with his blind eye. “I know you’re up to something, craftsman. When I find out what it is, Zeus won’t be able to protect you from my wrath,” he growled.
Daedalus regarded the commander and considered his words. “I only wish to serve our King.”
The commander stepped toward Daedalus but then turned to look down at his son. “And what of you, boy?”
Icarus met Magus’ gaze with contempt. “I hold no secrets, but if I do, may the gods strike you down for it,” stated the boy.
“What did you say?” bellowed Magus.Daedalus stepped in front of his son to prevent any retribution from the commander. “He meant to say, strike ‘me’ down,” pleaded Daedalus nervously.
The commander eyed Daedalus with his healthy eye. Icarus stuck his tongue out at the commander behind his father’s back, knowing full well that Magus could not see his face. The young soldier noticed the disrespectful act and snorted. The commander turned to face his subordinate, but the young soldier quickly placed a hand over his mouth and cleared his throat.
Magus glowered as he turned back to face Daedalus. “Time for you two to get back to your work.”
The soldiers led the prisoners down the spiral staircase to the lower levels. Icarus carried Benu in his birdcage, and the bird swayed with every step the boy took. When they reached the ground floor, the young soldier opened the wooden doors that led to the underground chamber. “Go on,” said the young soldier, as he stood brashly. They made their way down the last few steps, and then the soldiers shut the doors, leaving the prisoners in darkness.
Two flint rocks were struck together, and sparks flew in every direction until the torch was ignited. The orange light illuminated Icarus’ face, who held the torch’s wooden handle. Daedalus tossed the stones on the ground, while Icarus proceeded to light several candles throughout the square room. The large cellar held all of the craftsman’s plans and inventions. Hundreds of papyrus scrolls filled the wooden racks that lined the walls of the workshop. Broken, unfinished, and completed inventions of all shapes and sizes were scattered throughout. The myriad of contraptions included the carpenter level, a wedge, a wimble, and even a miniature design for a watermill.
Daedalus removed a scroll from a hidden compartment beneath his workbench. He unfurled it on the table, and the parchment revealed a crude design for a backpack with mechanical wings attached to its flanks. The plans contained diagrams, written instructions, and sketches for a flying machine.
The invention of a device capable of giving man the ability to fly would be impressive for most inventors, but Daedalus was the most celebrated craftsman in all of Greece. He helped several Greek city-states become prominent nations on the world’s stage by continuously advancing human knowledge. That was what eventually made him a target to powerful Kings.
The brilliant inventor was held in such high regard that the tower was chosen specifically to prevent him from escaping. Soldiers trained in the courtyard, while armed guards patrolled the twenty-foot-high rock wall surrounding the tower. Although they weren’t called prisoners by name, the guards treated them as such. Imprisonment was terrible, but it was a form of living in Daedalus’ mind. For Icarus, however, this was no life at all.
In the beginning, Icarus enjoyed assisting his father in the workshop, but eventually, the boy grew weary of the tedious routine. Nothing they ever created was good enough for the King or his army. As the boy got older, he realized that they could never leave. He could never play with the children that lived beyond the surrounding walls, nor see the world like the heroes in his father’s tales. Icarus knew that this was no way to live and that they had to escape, no matter the cost.
⁂
Icarus only had a vague memory of how the inspiration for the flying machine came to him. The boy sat outside in the middle of the courtyard during his brief daily recess. With Benu on his shoulder, Icarus tried to think of a means of escape. He kept hitting his head as if trying to rattle an idea out of his mind, an act that he learned from his father. That’s when the top of his hair was struck by a gooey substance. He touched it with his hand and inspected the strange green and white matter. On closer inspection, it appeared to be bird droppings. His disgusted face gave way to amazement as he looked up at the sky and observed a colony of gulls flying overhead. The seedling of the idea had been planted and began to sprout.
The boy closed his eyes and slowly willed a vision out of his mind. He looked at the birds flapping and then moved his arms up and down. Benu scratched his head in confusion. “I’ve got it!” said Icarus as he pointed his dirty finger toward the heavens.
He ran up to his father and whispered his idea under his breath. At first, Daedalus laughed at the notion of human flight. “Let’s leave the flying to birds and the gods, son,” he said. Icarus felt defeated and tried to think of another means of escape. After many nights, Daedalus eventually considered the possibility of a flying machine. The craftsman worked on the design for the device and dedicated every waking moment to its development. He sketched the wings to resemble that of a bird but quickly abandoned the idea of using feathers in favor of a light fabric.
Icarus and Daedalus would take turns stealing material they needed from around the tower and sneaking it up to their chamber. Whenever a soldier’s back was turned, they’d grab a piece of metal, wood, or cloth needed to build the flying machine. They spent a year secretly constructing the contraptions piece by piece until they were finally completed.
⁂
Below the tower, Daedalus brought out a flight helmet made from cowhide and stuffed bird feathers. Two yellow lightning bolts were stitched to the flanks of the headgear as a tribute to Zeus, the King of the gods. The craftsman tied the strap under Icarus’ chin to secure it. “I invented this as a substitute to the heavy bronze helmet the soldiers wear in battle, but it proved to be ineffective against a sword,” he said with a cringe. “I didn’t think I would ever find another use for it, but this should protect our skulls from harsh impacts. At least, I pray it will.”
Daedalus looked at Icarus as he stroked his white beard. “Something’s missing,” he said. “I’ve got it.” He grabbed an extra pair of his workman spectacles from a table and fixed them around Icarus’ head. The craftsman used the specs to protect his eyes when he forged heated metal with his smiting hammer. Handcrafted wood made up the rims, flat reading stones covered the eyeholes, and a horsetail rope secured them around the boy’s head. “This should prevent the wind from bothering your eyes,” said Daedalus as he placed the specs around the boy’s eyes.
With magnified eyes from the thick glass, Icarus looked like a night owl when he blinked. “They make my head hurt,” said the boy.
Daedalus placed the goggles on his son’s forehead. “Only wear them when you’re in flight,” he said.
The boy turned to a polished bronze shield leaned against the wall. He picked it up and viewed his reflection closely.
Benu squawked and said, “Birds fly, boy will die.”“What do you know,” Icarus retorted, and then rattled the parrot’s cage. Benu fluttered his wings, molting a few feathers in the process.
The door at the top of the stairs opened, startling them. Heavy footsteps were heard coming down the stairs swiftly. Daedalus and Icarus rushed to hide the helmets and spectacles within their tunics. Magus and the young soldier found the craftsman and his son at their workbench.
“Night has fallen, you two are done for the day,” said Magus.
“It felt like we just started,” responded Daedalus with feigned surprise.
“You can keep working if you prefer, Craftsman,” said the irritable Magus.
“No, that’s enough for today,” said Daedalus with a yawn.
They made their way past the two soldiers and up the stairs. Icarus acted solemn as he always did on the surface, but he could barely contain his excitement.
⁂
At the walls beyond the tower, the gates were opened, and two soldiers on horseback rode into the courtyard. Unlike the sentries on the walls, the riders wore uniforms made of the finest material. Bronze helmets complete with horsehair crest concealed their faces. Long swords with gold-plated handles were holstered to their belts. They reached the tower and dismounted their steeds near the entrance. After yoking the horses to the wooden post, they made their way to the door.
Inside the tower, Daedalus, Icarus, and their two captors reached the ground floor. There was a loud knock on the door that startled them. Magus signaled to his subordinate to check the entrance. The young soldier removed his sword and opened the door slowly.
“What is the meaning of this?” Magus asked. One of the stone-faced soldiers extended his arm and presented a scroll with the King’s seal. The commander took the papyrus in hand and eyed the men suspiciously. He broke the waxed stamp and unfurled the message. Impatiently, his good and bad eyes darted back and forth as he read the declaration.
When Magus finished reading, he was stunned. He looked at the Royal Guards with newfound respect, while they stood there like scowling statues.
“What does it say?” asked Daedalus timidly. “Are we free?”
Magus laughed and said, “As free as your caged bird.” He shoved the parchment into the craftsman’s hands.
Daedalus unfurled the scroll and read it: By Royal Decree from the Great King Minos
Daedalus and his son are summoned by your ruler. They must return with the Royal Guards at once or face a fate worse than death. The soldiers stationed to defend him are also summoned to assist in a mission of the utmost importance, or they will be deemed an enemy of the city-state and punished accordingly. The craftsman’s unique talents are needed for the insurmountable task ahead. Our mission is to save the world.
- King Minos
Daedalus’ face was awestruck. “I need to gather some supplies for the journey,” he said. He pretended to be feeble and fearful to the Royal Guards. The armed men exchanged silent glances and then nodded. “Come on, son,” said Daedalus.
Magus grabbed the craftsman’s arm and squeezed. “Be quick about it,” he growled. Daedalus looked down at the floor and nodded. Icarus’ shoved Magus off of his father. The commander stumbled backward until he hit the stone wall. Stunned by the insolence, he quickly unsheathed his long sword. The Royal Guards bared their blades at the commander. Daedalus and Icarus put their palms up and retreated several paces.
The silent Royal Guards had been given strict orders to take the craftsman by force if necessary. They held their swords against Magus’ throat, who yielded and slowly sheathed his sword. The Royal Guards holstered their weapons. As the dust settled, Daedalus and Icarus walked toward the spiral staircase.
“Keep an eye on this one,” said Icarus as they made their way up. Magus’ face reddened with fury.
Father and son rushed up the stairs and sealed the door. They pushed Daedalus’ cot to one side. They dug their fingers into a crevice, and then lifted a thin slab of rock from the floor. Two packs were stacked within the hidden compartment. They pulled the backpacks out and set them on the small round table in the center of the room.
Daedalus helped Icarus put on his pack first. Straps were harnessed around the child’s shoulders and torso. The backpack had a cord dangling from its side, which the craftsman promptly pulled. Spring-loaded wings were released that extended from the flanks of the pack. The boy wavered until he regained his balance in the middle of the room. Daedalus inspected the flying machine.
“Do you have to do this now?” asked Icarus as he strapped the helm to his head. The boy had to adjust his helmet several times as it kept sliding forward and covering his eyes.
“The risk is too great to toss caution to the wind,” countered Daedalus. Icarus rolled his eyes but understood. Two long retractable metal rods made up the top of each wing’s arm and were covered with sewed cloth. The boy looked smaller at the center, but the wings were only slightly longer than his outstretched arms. Daedalus sighed and said, “May the gods of Olympus protect us as we try to reach them in the skies.”
“I’m ready,” said Icarus fearlessly. The boy retracted his wings and then set the goggles on his forehead.
“If we gather enough wind-speed, we should be able to fly a great distance before they even realize we’re gone,” said Daedalus, as he put on his pack.
⁂
It didn’t take long for the Royal Guards to grow impatient. They made their way up the spiral stairs with the Magus and the young soldier in tow. They reached the door to the top of the staircase but could not push it open. Realizing that something was amiss, the Royal Guards began to slam the door with their shoulders.
“Step aside,” ordered Magus with sword in hand. The guards stepped back, and the commander started to hack at the wood. Magus created an opening and reached through the broken door to remove the furniture stacked on the other side. They kicked the door open and desperately searched for the captives, but the chamber was empty.
“Wait,” said Magus, entering the room. “Heed.” The guards halted and listened. Their eyes drifted toward the ceiling when they heard footfalls coming from above. The young soldier stuck his head out the window and saw Daedalus’ foot swing over the edge and climb onto the roof.
“They’re above us,” said the young soldier.
Icarus held onto the pole at the center of the roof. Benu landed on the weathervane in the shape of a triton next to the boy. Fearing that the wind would blow him off the tower, Daedalus crawled toward his son slowly. A long sword broke through the wooden surface near the craftsman’s hand. The next one missed his torso slightly, forcing him to roll out of the way. The next sword thrust cut through Daedalus’ pack but missed his body. He found his footing and scrambled up the conical roof.
“Are you hurt?” asked Icarus as his father reached him.
Daedalus struggled to catch his breath but eventually shook his head. “Are you prepared?” asked Daedalus.
Icarus nodded timidly until the helmet slid over his eyes, forcing him to push the helm back onto his head. He released his wings, and the air became a solid thing that elevated the boy off his feet. He gripped the weathervane and settled himself back on the rooftop.
The royal guards climbed out the window and up the side of the tower. Magus’ hand gripped the edge of the roof as he pulled himself onto the rooftop. “Craftsman! There’s nowhere to go!” he bellowed.
“Hurry, father,” urged Icarus. Daedalus pulled the cord on his pack and released his wings, but only felt the slightest push from the strong winds. The fabric was torn from sword thrust, and the breeze blew through the craftsman’s wings. Daedalus’ eyes widened as he came to the realization that he was trapped. “No,” whimpered Icarus.
The soldiers surrounded them and advanced up the coned roof from four corners. They were nearly upon them. Daedalus sighed, accepting his fate, but not the one for his son. “You have to go, Icarus,” said Daedalus.
“Not without you,” pleaded the boy, tears welling up in his eyes.“The gods will protect you.”
A powerful gust of wind inflated the wings like the sails on a ship. Icarus lost his grip on the pole and was lifted off the tower. He looked like a bird caught in an updraft as he was blown up into the night’s sky.
The soldiers watched in disbelief as the boy flew on the breath of the wind. Magus’ mouth dropped as he looked on in disbelief. “What sorcery is this?”
Benu soared off the roof in pursuit of the boy. He squawked until they disappeared in the dark clouds above.
“Help me, father!” were the last words that Daedalus heard his son say before he vanished in the darkness.
