The Defender of Rebel Falls: A Medieval Science Fiction Adventure (The William Whitehall Adventures Book 1)

by Christensen, Erik

  “It wouldn’t matter if we did,” said Jack. “One favor, whether it’s curing a disease or eliminating an enemy…that isn’t trade. Not long term anyway. We have to find something they need that we have.”

  “Food?” asked Maya.

  “No, they have no problem getting food on their own,” said Rachel. “All they eat is meat and rocks, and they’re surrounded by rocks.”

  “But game is scarce, right?” asked Jack. “We barely found enough to eat, and we have the best hunter in all the land.”

  “Stop trying to butter me up,” said Rachel, tossing a rock at Jack’s boot. “Have you seen them hunt? They can fly, Jack. At least their hunters can. I can’t, and the closest you can come to flying is falling out of a tree.”

  “Hey, I never fall!”

  “Why are you so obsessed with trade, anyway?” asked William. “What’s wrong with just helping them?”

  “Because the kind of help they need is a onetime thing. Trade is what makes things better for both sides forever.”

  “Getting rich is good for us maybe, but how does that help everyone else?” asked William.

  “It makes everything better,” said Rachel. “You talk about how life would improve if we had more metal tools. What if the dragons need something, and they could get it cheap from us?”

  “Well said,” said Jack.

  “I thought I told you to stop buttering me up,” she said, this time kicking his foot.

  “Kick me if you want, but you sounded smart like a trader for a moment instead of a hunter—ow!”

  “Okay, I get it,” said William. “Trade is good. But if the dragons don’t need anything that we have, then how do we trade?”

  Jack shrugged. “Life isn’t perfect for them, the Elder admitted that. We have to figure out what might make it a little better. That means learning a little more about them.”

  William looked around the den in alarm. “Where’s Charlie?”

  Rachel burst out laughing. “You just noticed he’s not here?”

  “Give me a break,” said William. “He’s quiet. He barely talks. If Jack goes missing and I don’t notice, then you can make fun of me. Where’s Charlie?”

  “He’s playing music for the injured dragons, and the young ones,” said Maya.

  William’s jaw dropped. “Why?” he asked.

  Hands on hips, she glared back at him. “They like it. Don’t be so judgmental!”

  “I’m not…I’m just surprised.”

  “You shouldn’t be. Come see.” Maya grabbed William’s hand and hauled him into the main chamber. Across the expanse between the massive pillars, several dragons, large and small, converged on a single point against the far wall. Clear notes of a soaring melody drifted through the air. Not a dragon moved as they sat in rapt attention. Through a small space between two large dragons, William spied Charlie, blissfully unaware of the attention, or else so in tune with it he need not acknowledge it.

  “I forgot how well he played,” he said.

  “You don’t give him enough credit,” said Maya.

  William sighed. “I know.” He listened for a little while longer, unable to pull himself away. “You know, it’s too bad we can’t sell music to the dragons. Has the Elder heard this?”

  Maya scratched her chin. “You know, back on Earth music was recorded and sold like books, and people could play it whenever they wanted.”

  “Not as well as Charlie plays, I bet.”

  “No—as well or better. The sound was recorded. It sounded exactly the same every time.”

  William looked at Maya with surprise. “That can’t be possible. How?”

  “I’m not sure. My father explained it once. I only pretended to understand. He’s really the scientist in the family. He said machines stored music like a book stores words. It could be played over and over again, and you didn’t have to know how to play music yourself.”

  A chill passed through William, and his heart pounded. “That’s it!” he said breathlessly. “That’s the answer!”

  “What is?”

  He grabbed Maya’s arm. “Books, Maya! They don’t have books. That’s what the dragons need. Books!” He leaped in the air, unable to contain his excitement.

  Maya did her best to restrain him. “Quiet, Will! You’re disturbing the dragons.” Several large ones had turned their heads to see what the commotion was.

  “Sorry,” William said to the dragons absentmindedly. Impatiently, he pulled her away from the mob surrounding Charlie. “They don’t have books. That’s the sort of thing the Elder needs. I’m sure of it.”

  Maya stared at him with a quizzical look. “Why would they need books?”

  “Well, first, I haven’t seen any. Have you?”

  “No, but—”

  “Second, I don’t think they store knowledge except in the Elder’s brain, plus maybe Hermes and a few others. He made it sound like they’d been marooned on an island and left to fend for themselves, and that it was their job to figure out how to get off the island. If they do, it means they passed some sort of test.”

  “But wouldn’t that be cheating, if they get knowledge from some other source?” asked Maya.

  William grinned at her, his passion undiminished by her questioning. “Not if that’s how they were supposed to get it.”

  Maya thought for a bit. “You know, maybe I don’t give you enough credit either.”

  “Let’s see what Jack says,” he said as he blushed from the praise.

  William could barely contain his excitement. He skidded into the den, startling Jack and Rachel. “Books,” he said.

  “What?” asked Jack.

  “Books,” said William. “That’s what we trade for the metal.”

  “What are you talking about? Books? They can’t even—that makes no—actually…” Jack’s expression changed several times as the idea took hold in his mind. “That’s brilliant. Are you sure it was your idea?”

  “I had help from Maya and Charlie. We were listening to him play, and I said I wished we could sell music to the dragons, and Maya said that back on Earth they used to be able to put music in books…well, sort of…but anyway, it made me think of books.”

  “Slow down, Will,” said Jack. “Take a breath. Yes, it’s a good idea. But we need to present it to the Elder before we get too excited.”

  To his surprise, they found it difficult to explain what books were, and what their purpose was. The Elder had nothing to compare it to in his culture. Any knowledge he now possessed had been passed to him verbally by another dragon, or learned through personal experience. If they understood the Elder’s explanation, dragons communicated much faster than humans, and once a dragon had information he never forgot it…provided it applied to his role in the hive. But to communicate, both the sender and receiver had to be present. Aside from messenger dragons—whose capacity was limited—they could not communicate over a distance. Unlike speech, books could cross barriers of both space and time.

  The Elder was mildly interested once he caught on, but his dull eyes widened when he found out books could teach him all the knowledge humans were willing to share. William knew in his gut this was the sort of help the Elder wanted. That they could have it without exposing their existence to other humans clinched it.

  Jack suggested the dragons might want stories as well. At first the Elder dismissed it as pointless. “Dragons do not need anything frivolous. Most workers are simple-minded, with enough mental capacity to do their jobs. The rest, such as myself, are focused on their tasks.”

  “Tell that to the dragons in the hospital ward,” said Rachel.

  “The what?” asked the Elder.

  “That’s what we call the large den where the injured and young are kept,” said Maya. “I work in a hospital, with wounded and sick, so that’s what we called yours, too.”

  “I see. And what is it I should tell the dragons there?” asked the Elder.

  “You should see them crowding around Charlie, listening t
o him play,” said Maya. “Ask them if they’d like some entertainment.”

  “I have heard about this music. I have reports that workers are heard to whistle these songs. Thankfully it does not affect their work.”

  “But work isn’t the point,” said Maya. “They don’t work non-stop, do they?”

  “No, they would die from exhaustion.”

  “Well, music and stories are for the times between work. It makes life more enjoyable.”

  “I admit, I have wished I could move from this den so I could hear his music.”

  William realized that the Elder was hinting to have Charlie brought here to play. Why couldn’t the Elder just ask? Maybe so it could be offered as a gift? “No matter, Elder,” said William. “Charlie will come to you.”

  The Elder nodded. “That would be enjoyable. Do you have any story books with you? I would like to see one.”

  They all looked at each other before William answered. “I’m sorry, Elder, we didn’t know we would need them.”

  “That is a shame. I think a story would be a good way to learn about you humans.”

  “We don’t need a book for that,” said Maya. “I am sure we could tell you a story from memory.”

  “I would like that,” said the Elder. “How soon can you do this?”

  “Well, we could have one of the guys run and get Charlie, and I can tell you the story right now, if you want.”

  “No, wait,” said Jack. “I have an idea. Elder, do you ever have large meetings with all dragons present?”

  “It happens rarely, but the hall outside my den has space for most of the hive to assemble for special events, such as the birth of the Queen.”

  “Would it be too much to ask to have you assemble as many dragons as possible so they can hear both the music and the story?” asked Jack. “I apologize if this is a rude request.”

  “It is not inappropriate, just unusual. It will be done.”

  Several hours later the Ambassador summoned them. As promised, the area surrounding the Elder’s den was packed with dragons of all colors and sizes. The larger ones sat farther away, giving the smaller ones a chance to see. The crowd of dragons parted to make a narrow corridor to the Elder’s den.

  “How will they all hear us?” Maya asked the Ambassador as they walked the intimidating path.

  “This hall was designed to carry sound to the far end,” he answered. “The music will do so, but it matters little if your voices do not.”

  “Why not?” asked William.

  “Few of us understand your language. The Elder, myself, and a few drones I taught. The rest will hear your story spoken by these drones.” William nodded that he understood. “This is a rare event,” said the Ambassador as they neared the Elder. “I have never heard tell of aliens addressing an assembly of dragons before this. Do not make us regret it.”

  The Ambassador retreated into the throng of dragons before William could ask what he meant. Had he failed to see some risk? If the dragons didn’t like the song or story, might they be in danger? He and Maya exchanged a glance, but she had nothing to offer. Luckily, the others hadn’t heard; this was no time to burden them with worry.

  Charlie began with a song. They knew from experience his music would be well-received, and again the dragons gazed in rapture as the music flowed from Charlie’s flute. He played a simple, catchy tune, one that would set human toes tapping if played beside a campfire. When he finished, he was rewarded with a chorus of whistles and trumpets.

  “It seems my people approve,” said the Elder. “As do I. That was most enjoyable.”

  “I’m glad,” said Charlie, his deep sigh of relief belying how nervous he had been.

  Jack followed with a story that William once thought his friend was named for: Jack and the Beanstalk. Jack chose it not only because it was his favorite story as a child, but because it represented human desire to reach for something greater, as well as the dangers involved in greed. A large silver drone translated as Jack spoke, filling the hall with complex, melodic phrases that fluctuated in tone and pitch. Jack was a natural storyteller, full of emotion and dramatic pauses, so the dragons’ muted “applause” surprised him. Jack stomped away and leaned against the wall, his arms crossed and with a sour look on his face. “I was hoping for a better response than that,” he said.

  Charlie played again, reprising the song he played while trapped in the rocky alcove, facing death. As before, William lost himself in the music, nearly forgetting where he was. He was startled when Maya nudged him and whispered in his ear. “Listen. They’re singing along again!” William heard the sounds of accompaniment coming from the vast hall. Never did it drown out Charlie’s flute, but its presence was unmistakable. Maya whispered something about chords and counterpoint, but music theory was lost on him. When Charlie finished he received yet another round of whistles and trumpets. William couldn’t help but smile at the pride on Charlie’s face.

  It was William’s turn to speak. He chose the story of the Ugly Duckling because of its effect on him as a child. He had always felt like the odd one out in any group, especially after his father died, and he had long dreamed of becoming something different when he grew up. But before he finished it dawned on him that he had chosen poorly. If he had learned anything about the dragons it was that each one had their place and knew it well. Whether or not they dreamed of being something different he did not know, but judging by the silence and the Ambassador’s chastising glare, they did not.

  At least Jack reacted well. In fact, he was laughing. “Now I don’t feel so bad.”

  “Thanks a lot,” said William as he slunk out of the dragons’ sight to hide his shame.

  “Maybe we should finish with music,” said Maya. “I don’t think they like the stories.”

  Jack shook his head vigorously. “We need to tell stories. Or better ones, anyway. They need to be excited about entertainment, not just facts.”

  “Wait a second,” said Rachel. “When I was young, traveling storytellers had musical accompaniment to show anger or excitement, or whatever emotion.”

  Maya slapped her forehead. “Of course! They did the same thing in Faywater. Charlie, can you do that? Improvise music to feelings?” asked Maya.

  Charlie nodded. “What story?”

  “The Slave and the Lion. Do you know it?”

  He nodded again. Maya began her story by describing a wretched slave, beaten and starved by his master until the poor slave escaped into the desert. Charlie conveyed perfectly the fear and anger the runaway must have felt. Maya spoke of the cave the young man found to spend the night in, and Charlie imitated the slave’s apprehension, building the tension to a peak. The dragons reacted visibly to Charlie’s expression of panic at the sudden appearance of a lion, whose cave the slave had invaded. In William’s mind the story and music were one, as even the translator’s whistles began to match Charlie’s flute in tempo and scale.

  Maya continued her story. The lion rolled over and presented its paw to the young slave instead of eating him. The slave, seeing a deeply embedded thorn in the lion’s paw, approached with dread, but determined to help. With shaking hands, he extracted the thorn, and the two became friends, sharing the cave in harmony for some time.

  When the slave desired to be with his own kind again, it was a bittersweet parting. The slave, rather than being rewarded for returning to his master, was tossed into prison as an example to other would-be runaways. He was sentenced to be thrown into a pit of wild animals as a punishment, and for the amusement of his master’s friends. To his surprise, his friend the lion was among the animals, and the grateful feline recognized the slave and protected him from the other beasts. The master, seeing the faithfulness between lion and slave granted them each their freedom, and they both lived long, prosperous lives, each vowing always to help the other when needed.

  The music and the story were so compelling that William was unaware of anything else. He was startled back to reality by the thunderous applause
that lasted for minutes. It so moved him that he found himself hugging both Maya and Charlie, joined soon after by Jack and Rachel.

  The Ambassador returned as they broke apart. “I hope you were able to hear well, Elder.”

  “I did. I was most impressed with the music, but the stories elude me, save perhaps for the last one.” He turned to William and the others. “Tell me, is that story factual?”

  “No,” said Maya. “It’s an old fable from Earth. Its meaning is not literal.”

  “Then the slave represents something else, as does the lion. Is this correct?”

  “That’s right. The slave is anyone trapped in a life they wish they could escape, whether from boredom or hunger or pain…or anything. The escape represents an attempt to improve on life’s conditions, moving ahead despite the fear of recapture, or failure, or even mockery.”

  “And the lion?” asked the Elder.

  “The lion symbolizes difficulties one might encounter,” said Maya. “Things that might stop you from achieving your dreams. Only by facing them and looking for hidden opportunities can we overcome them.”

  “Hang on,” said Jack. “That’s not what I was taught. It’s that kindness never goes unrewarded.”

  “You two have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Rachel. “It’s about the bond between friends.”

  Maya giggled. She turned to Charlie and asked, “Want to take a stab at it?”

  Charlie shrugged. “My dad says big, scary things aren’t always the most dangerous.”

  The Elder stared at each of them in turn. “Most confusing. You all know this story, and yet it holds different meanings for each of you. And none agreed with mine.”

  “What did you think?” asked William.

  “I had thought the slave stood for you humans, and that we dragons are the lion. That by helping us with our illness, you had hoped to gain our trust and friendship.”

  Maya coughed and hung her head with a shy grin. “I have a confession, Elder. I chose that story because I knew that particular meaning would occur to you. But a good story has many lessons, and not everyone sees the same aspects; even the same person sees different meanings at different times. That’s why we listen to them or read them over and over. As we grow, the same story can reveal new messages.”