The Dragon's Back Trilogy

by Robert Dennis Wilson

  Jason, locked in his coral tower, had seen this Bay from afar for ten long years. Seeing did not excite him. Being on it did!

  He looked past his white-bearded rescuer to catch his brother's eye and saw also his sibling's glowing face, proudly reflecting the clear brightness of the sun. Yes, Kaleb is feeling it, too, he thought. Freedom! Freedom to move! To breathe! To look! To touch! To feel! To live!

  Jason felt as though his insides would soon burst like a fermented waterskin from the sheer joy of freedom. No more walls or ceilings. Only the wind, and the waves, and the sun or stars above. Even his inbred fear of the Sea, doubly strengthened by remembered tragedy, could not dampen his spirits or keep him shore-bound on the Island that had so long been his prison.

  No more! He was free! Yes, willingly he had entered the boat.

  Yet, he had felt false freedom before, on a darkened wind-swept summit above the Ocean. Was this freedom only another of the nightmares that had plagued his youth? Would the dragons come now and painfully snatch him back to reality?

  His fearful gaze rose to link eyes with the tall white-haired man next to him. To Jason, his GrandSire stood there as a living myth, a person resurrected from an all but forgotten past to stand supernaturally among the living once more. The youth had only been four when government men tore a grieving, bewildered child from the comforting arms of his "Grands". They had dragged the screaming infant and his older brother onto a boat bound over the dark waters that had just claimed their parents, to bring the children to the prison of the Orphanage. For ten years his fading image of a crying old man, begging with uniformed men, then, in the end, vowing undying love to his kin, had been Jason’s only candle in a dark and dismal world.

  The re-born stranger smiled and spoke to his grandson, "I can see by the look o' your eyes that you're not quite believin' what's happenin' t'ya. Aye, laddie, I be a feelin' the same way. My heart's near to burstin' with the joy o' havin' y'two with me again." And he reached out to grip Jason firmly by the arm. "It's real, laddie. It's truly and wonderfully real!"

  "I had thought..." Jason spoke so quietly that his GrandSire leaned closer to hear his words above the sounds of wind and waves. "I had thought you forgot about us," he said with a tear in his voice. "We didn't even know if you were still alive..."

  "I know, laddie. But 'twas not my fault. For some unknown reason, the gov'ment tried t' bury you so’s I could never find ya' again. It took me well more ‘an half o' them years just t' find the dragon hole they'd stuck ya' in. I've been fightin' t' free ya' ever since. I even tried t' post letters t' ya', but they'd all'ays come back unopened. I never forgot ye during all that time, neither ye or yo' brother. But now, praise the Gryphon, all that's changed! I've followed His tracks till they led t' you, though they led me on a mighty twisted course. I tell ya', Jason, me boy, I've been livin' for this day for nigh on ten years, now. I don't rightly know how best t' celebrate, 'cept to jus' praise Him who sees in the dark and guides those who can't see at all!"

  Jason knew that his Grands was as glad to see him as he, himself, was to see his GrandSire, but his talk caused confusion in the young teenager's thoughts. And much more than just the Heartlander's thick accent was causing that confusion. "You talk about the Gryphon as though you've seen Him, yet the Orphanage kept teaching us that He was just a myth made up to scare little children into being good."

  Kaleb chose to break his silence at this point. "They told us we each could roar like Gryphons if we wanted to. Who needs to search for a make-believe Gryphon when each of us can be one ourselves if we only try?"

  GrandSire shook his head sadly from side to side. It was the first sign of distress Jason had seen in him since their joyous reunion in the Director's office. He had seen tears in the old man's eyes after they had embraced, but they were tears of joy, and then only smiles until now.

  The white-haired man turned to face his oldest grandson, so Jason could not see the expression on his face as he quietly asked, "Can drinkin' seawater make y' a fish? If y' can pucker up an' blow enough wind to whistle, does that mean y' have enough air to move all the ships on the sea? No, lad, them gov'ment schools is full o' lies. Jus' like they locked away your bodies from me, so they also tried t' lock away your minds from the truth."

  Having made that pronouncement, GrandSire turned so that his back rested against the black inside boards of the boat's pointed bow. He now faced both of his grandsons.

  Jason, always curious, always wanting answers, but seldom finding anyone willing to give them, had to ask some questions now, "GrandSire, why would they lie to us? Were they deliberately trying to trick us in our classes? Why? What would they gain by doing that?"

  GrandSire rewarded Jason with a smile that brought sunshine to the wrinkled old face. "Aie," he said with great joy in his voice, "it's a wonder to hear ya' askin' questions like that. It does me good t' know they haven't taken all the wind outa' your sails. Jason, m' laddie, to answer your questions, I'll ask ye a few o' my own. Why does the hunter put bait in 'is traps?"

  "Oh, that's easy, I read about that in the scrolls," responded the youth. "He wants to catch an animal and it's easier to catch 'em if you offer them something they want."

  "Well said, lad! Even so, those who hate the Gryphon offer the sweet bait o' Gryphon-like pow'r t' those who step in their traps."

  "Why would they want to do that?" asked Kaleb sharply, and Jason recognized in his voice an undertone of hostility.

  The old man did not answer, but instead pulled out his waterskin—the large one with the dolphin, unstoppered it, and turned to empty its contents over the side of the boat.

  Kaleb reacting instantly, tried to wrest the bag from the old man's hands. "Are you crazy, GrandSire?" he pleaded, and his words were not words of disrespect. "That's the only water you'll get for today and it's mighty hot on this boat!"

  "Leave be, boy!" The white-haired man laughed at the obvious confusion of his grandsons. "I know perfectly well what it is that I'm a-doin'. You needn't worry, for I carry another bag!"

  Jason's head was again flooded with questions. His eager voice was a willing spillway: "GrandSire, why did you pour out the water from your 'skin? We've been taught since childhood that a man '...should always guard the contents of his waterskin and use it only in moderation,' yet you have wasted a whole day's worth. You say that you have another 'skin and I can see that's true, but when were you adopted?"

  "Whoa there, laddie me boy!" exclaimed GrandSire, "You need to use some 'moderation' in your questionin', too. First, I mus' say that them folks at your Orphanage must've kept ya' pretty sore isolated iffen y' don't even recognize a Gryphon's 'skin when y' see one. An' no, laddie, 'tis not the skin of a Gryphon, but a waterskin bearin' His seal."

  Kaleb's reaction was again instantaneous, but obviously unexpected by his GrandSire. His age had made him almost as tall as his senior, gifting him as well with the natural muscularity of a champion. Using his superior strength to his advantage, he forcefully grabbed his GrandSire's arm and sharply turned the old man to face him directly. "That would make you a Swimmer!" he spat the words like poison into the older man's face. "You're like one of them that killed my parents! How could you become one of those? He was your own son! Why would you join with them?!"

  Without waiting for a response, Kaleb shoved his GrandSire away hard. The old man thumped loudly against the solid wooden railing of the bow. Then the angry youth spun around and stormed to the rear of the boat, choosing instead the silent company of the black-robed helmsman and his mate.

  Startled, Jason grabbed for his GrandSire as the old man slumped forward. The boy saw in that kindly bearded face the mark of sudden pain and knew that His brother's words and actions had combined to break some delicate thing that would not soon be repaired.

  "GrandSire?" he asked as he lowered his living burden to a sitting position on the wooden deck, "are you all right?" After the old man’s tired nod, he continued. "I'm sure Kaleb didn't mean to hurt you, it's just that
he's never liked Swimmers ever since that one killed Ma and Pa. I think he's also upset 'cause he has to go back to school and I don't. He's never been one to like scrolls much..."

  The white-haired man smiled, but Jason could tell that it was but a cloud-covered imitation of the sun that had lit that face a short time earlier. "Sonny, me lad," he said, "I'll be fine, so don'cha go a worryin' 'bout me none. Just hand me m'Gryphonskin an' then reach m' shellbowl from off m' pack. There's a good lad. Thank y'much."

  Jason found the requested items and handed them to his GrandSire, but he was fascinated by the "shellbowl". If he had formed an open cup with both of his hands, palms up and fingers extended, the half section of the golden seashell would have fit in that hollow comfortably with only the tips of his thumbs showing.

  Silently, GrandSire sat the bowl down on the deck between his legs and filled it with water from his 'skin of adoption. Corking the bladder, he let it fall gently back to his side, then raising the bowl from the deck, he cupped it in both hands, much as Jason had envisioned.

  But then the old man just sat there, with his head bowed, staring at the water he had poured into the shell. It was as though there were something important in the reflection he saw there. Jason wanted to ask many questions but sensed that this was some kind of ceremony, so, with difficulty, refrained himself.

  At last the white-haired man stirred. As he raised his head again, Jason saw that his eyes were filled with tears.

  "What is it, GrandSire?" pleaded the boy. "What is wrong?"

  The old man remained silent for a long moment. Jason sensed that he wanted to talk, but for some reason could not. Perhaps he’s searching for just the right words, pondered the youth.

  The old man raised the bowl slowly, almost with reverence, to his lips and sipped about half of its water before setting it back on the polished wood of the deck. This time though, he set it in front of his grandson.

  At last, he spoke, his words filled with intensity, but sounding only slightly above a whisper, "So much t' tell an' so little time!"

  Jason was about to ask what that meant when his GrandSire continued a little more loudly, "I have seen the prints of the Gryphon's Son an' He's callin' me t' follow Him. I think maybe we'll travel together only as far as Dragonshead, then we each'll have our separate journeys. Mine'll be the longest one, your brother's probably the mos' difficult, but yours beyond doubt'll be the mos' glorious. Jason, m' boy, I envy ye your future: if y' learn t' follow the Gryphon's tracks, y' might well live to hear the Gryphon roar!"

  The more this old man talks, Jason thought, the less I understand him! Why are we gonna' have to be separated? Why does he have to go away? We only just got back together. At least his color's comin' back since he drank that water. I wonder what was in it?

  But before Jason could get out a word, the old man raised his arm with his hand up and fingers spread in a stopping motion. "Now's not the time for more questions," he told the boy, "but for the answerin' of those ulready made. Be quiet but for a little an' I'll try t'answer all the Gryphon will allow."

  The black wooden boats used by the Pascal priests for navigating the waters of the Bay were small, only about five man-lengths in all, but were very sturdy. They never would have served on the open sea, but then, no one ever went there, anyway. Smoke from the sleeping twin volcanoes above the Falls on Dragonshead drifted down from the summit to join and add its gloom to the circle of distant clouds surrounding Dragonsback. In every direction, at the edge of mortal sight, those impenetrable clouds rested on the fathomless darkness of the Sea, rising to the heights in a smoky-gray wall that was the bane of all living men. Only the dead, carried along by the River into the dark waters, ever found their way beneath those clouds. No man, save one, had ever passed that barrier and returned.

  GrandSire, with obvious effort, raised his voice a little louder. Without turning to look, Jason realized that, even above the sounds of the wind-strained rigging and the slapping of the waves against the hull, his sulking brother must now be able to hear GrandSire's words.

  "Jason, m' lad," he began, "have y'ever taken a bit of crystal scaline and held it at angles to the sunlight? What does it do?"

  "Why that's easy," replied the boy, remembering his own youthful experiments, "it makes pretty colors on the wall!"

  "Of course it does!" GrandSire responded, clearly delighted that the youth knew the answer. "But where do those colors come from? The crystal's clear an' the sunlight's clear, but when y'add them together they change into somthin' different."

  Jason recognized that his GrandSire was making a point and not after more answers, so he kept his silence.

  "What's the difference between a pet hound's point o' view of 'is master's dinner table an' what the master sees?" he asked, but continued without waiting for a reply. "The master sees a feast spread out afore him on the tabletop, but the lowly dog sees only the bottom o' the table an' maybe a few crumbs that fall 'is way. Both are seein' the truth, but what they're seein' is very different.

  "What I'm tryin' to tell ya', laddie, is that things ain't all'ays as they appear. I know what you an' your brother thought ye' saw ten years ago, but hold off judgment on that Swimmer. Someday maybe ye'll meet 'im an' get t' hear his side o' the story! Kaleb wanted t' know why I became a Swimmer? When I saw your dad an' mum sink beneath them waves, with me all helpless an' afraid to get so much as wet... well, somethin' happened t' me. I didn't ever wanta' stan' by an' watch that happen t' som'un else I cared about! Not when I coulda' helped iffin' I only knew how! By the Gryphon's Feathery Crest, I swore that very day I'd not let the sun go down on me again ‘til I knew how t' swim! But the Swimmer had disappeared and it took me several years before I finally fulfilled that vow. And yes, laddie, I'm a Swimmer an' proud of it. That's why I carry the 'skin of adoption with the Gryphon's golden seal upon it. The Gryphon's adopted me into His forever family. That's also why I carry a Swimmer's sword."

  "But everybody's afraid of the water!" interrupted Jason. "Nobody goes near it 'cept in boats. Do you mean to tell me you actually swim in that stuff? It's bottomless!"

  "Y'ulready know that Swimmers swim," answered his GrandSire with a smile. "It's not just a name. Y' saw with your own wee eyes, that wounded man from your parent's boat, pull 'imself up ont' the shore."

  "Yeah, alone!" Jason snapped back, in spite of himself.

  "I know what y' saw, but laddie, I'm askin' ya', if y'ever get the chance t' talk with that man, then listen t' what he 'as t' say. Listen with your heart an' not your eyes!"

  Jason wondered how anyone could "listen" with either heart or eyes, but didn't think it would matter much. In spite of what his GrandSire said, he knew what he had seen. That scene had played itself over in his mind too many times, he had relived it in too many nightmares to question the facts now. The crazy sword-wielding Swimmer had jumped up on the gunwales of the boat and then bounced up and down till the boat capsized, drowning everyone on board.

  Jason wanted to change the subject. This one was too painful.

  A half-remembered question came to his rescue by tugging at the fringes of his mind. The youth closed his eyes and screwed up his face for an instant ‘til the forgotten thought found inner light once more. Jason's tongue was the stage and his mind the candles: as the question made ready to perform in the light of center stage, it brought along an entire troupe.

  "Why did you empty your family waterskin over the side of the boat? Are you ashamed of us and the crest that you carry? Is that why you carry a Gryphon’s skin? And then why did you pour water from your other bag into a shell before you drank it? What did you see when you were staring into that shell?"

  "Whoa there, laddie," laughed the old man and Jason rejoiced at the sound, "Y' can only 'spect me t'answer one question at a time, not a whole scroll's worth! But I'll try an' cool your boilin' mind if'n y' give me the time!

  "First off, I was tryin' to catch your attention by emptyin' my 'skin. I had no notion young Kaleb would react so t
' it. M' heart's sore with sorrow that I so stirred up the thorns he's a carryin'. I'd no intention of hurtin' him, yet he can't be a judgin' all o' the Swimmers on Dragonsback 'cause o' what he thinks one of 'em did."

  GrandSire took a deep breath and squeezed shut his eyes for an instant. At the same time, Jason noted that he tightly clenched both of his fists. It was as if the old man were fighting a battle with some invisible force and the victory would come only through the strength of his will or the fire of his emotions. The boy knew that GrandSire's words had not been directed to him, but to someone at the other end of the boat. He also knew that his brother could be very scaline-headed at times. Perhaps the silent struggle he had witnessed was his GrandSire's attempt to drive a small nail into a very hard wall.

  The battle apparently over, GrandSire opened his eyes and smiled once more. Jason held onto his new questions as the Heartlander continued, "Jason, me boy, tell me what I'd lose if I totally emptied my 'skin o'er the side o' this boat?"

  "Why you'd lose today's water and go thirsty till the bag filled itself back up again," replied the lad, incredulous that an adult would ask a question that even the smallest child could answer. Training in water use was one of the first rules a child learned in his home. It was the parents' responsibility to pass on the family standards on consumption to each new member of the household. Even the Orphanage had given training classes. Young as he was when he first went there, the youth still remembered some painful lessons he had gained while trying to learn their new set of rules!