The Dragon's Back Trilogy

by Robert Dennis Wilson

  "This new one? Why, as long as I possibly can!"

  "What will you do if it gets torn?"

  "I will repair it! To do otherwise would dishonor the giver. This robe is now my prize possession, it was a gift from my GrandSire! What? Do you think I won't take care of it or would throw it away?"

  "No, of course not. Yet, there are some in our world who treat life like an old garment, saying, 'Throw it away if it gets a few holes in it.' Jumpin' Jack is one such man. One day he will, himself, enter the bottomless Sea and then he will find for the first time that those who cannot swim, drown forever. And I do not mean by that that they will drown and be forever dead! Rather, those who enter the waters unprepared drown, and drown, and continue to drown. They don't die, they just never stop drowning; hopelessly sinking; lost in the blackness; gasping eternally for air; grasping for someone or something to save them; and the deeper they sink, the more the water’s pressure crushes them. This is what Doctor Jack rushes people to find!”

  "If that is so, he needs to take some of his own medicine!"

  "No, Jason, though he is wrong in what he chooses, you should never wish that fate on him or anyone. From the Word of the Gryphon, we know that this definitely will be the fate of the Dragon and all of his dark minions. That old serpent is busy trying to take as many of us with him as he can. Jumpin' Jack not only deceives others but he, himself, has been sorely deceived. Perhaps someday the Gryphon will breathe on him and turn him around. May it be so!"

  All of this talk of the Gryphon made Jason feel not only uncomfortable but also very confused. His thoughts battled each other, and he became the casualty of the ensuing war. Why? he asked himself. Why did the bard have to bring up drowning? He spoke of people endlessly sinking into the depths. What about my parents? Are they forever lost? What of me? Only Swimmers can float!

  The cobblestone roadway they were traversing began a more than gradual rise to meet the steep face of the Mainland, whose massive black and green bulk now loomed over them. The man-made ramp they climbed lifted them above the tops of the last of the house-shops on their right and past the inmost floating platform on their left. Behind lay the crush of the port, but not its lingering sounds or smells: travelers, however, living and dead, now claimed the Road as their exclusive domain.

  In somber silence, Jason listened as his GrandSire talked with Kaleb and showed him some detail concerning a piece of carved bone the old man had been working on. From his position behind them and next to the tall bard, he could only listen.

  Well, he thought, at least Kaleb is paying attention and doesn't seem to be so angry anymore. He even sounds interested in the intricate carvings GrandSire is showing him. Maybe he'll even learn a thing or two!

  With wide-eyed wonder, Jason continued to experience his changing surroundings as though each new sight had been handed to him as a gift. He noted that in stark contrast to the lush tree-covered green of the mountains he had seen earlier from the decks of the Flying Eagle, the steep gray-brown terrain of naked scaline that surrounded him here had been stripped of all signs of life. Perhaps, he thought, every twig and leaf has gone into the construction of their mighty tower. Yet it's a shame that even the dirt seems to hold no life! Maybe GrandSire is right; perhaps this is a place of death!

  As they approached the upper end of the ramp, it bent sharply to the right, to find a foothold for its climb up the escarpment wall of the edge of the Mainland. They also drew ever closer to the huge stone archway that marked the entrance to the Bridge. The colossal design of the portal and the tower beyond fascinated the youth in their sheer size and massiveness. Carved from the living scaline of the mountain, the two columns of the arch were fashioned in the form of two giants, male and female, standing side by side, facing outward toward the upward turning ramp. Their demeanor was that of a loving couple, with heads touching, and one arm from each embracing the back of the other. With their other arms, each frozen form beckoned to the travelers to enter and find shelter. Jason noted that both figures were clothed only in leaves of stone.

  "Who are those figures and why do they stand over the road?"

  Nathan, turned as he walked, pointing back down the slope. "Do you see below us the place where the inner end of the cove would be if it weren't covered over by the floating village?"

  Jason nodded his silent reply.

  "Legends are told that mark that spot as the place where our First Parents first landed on Dragonsback. The two statues above us are ancient, predating the building of this monstrosity of a one-sided Bridge."

  "The archway then is a remembrance of their coming to this land?" asked the youth, with a sound of wonder in his voice.

  "I believe that to be true, yet few in this place would now agree," answered the bard shaking his head sadly.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Oh, they've concocted some nonsense that since, according to them, the story of our First Parents is only a legend (not based in demonstrable fact), then these stone figures must represent something with a deeper, more contemporary meaning. Some name them Life and Death, who are here embracing to shelter all mankind under their shadow. Others say he is the Land and she the River, thinking these two 'gods' are the givers and sustainers of life. They waste their time building a Bridge whose only possible meaning can be found in a legend they reject. The reason we feel the need for a Bridge to get to the Gryphonsland is because, somewhere down deep inside of each of us, we remember, through our First Parents, what it was like to live there and long to return!"

  Nathan’s vehemence on this subject surprised Jason, who noticed that several strangers had also heard the bard's loud words, scowled at the speaker, and then quickly moved away, pushing past them up the slope. Within the lad’s heart, however, a much more responsive chord had been struck by that symphony of words: "I feel that too!" he responded. "I dream about the Gryphonsland and about the eagles that come from there. How could I do that if they weren't real?"

  Nathan looked pleased with his student's response, exclaiming, "Exactly! Yet look below you once more at that juncture between our land and the eternal depths: mankind has covered it over with the works of his own hands, as though they could really hide its existence. That spot is also the very place where long ago a tiny coracle of reeds landed, bringing with it the infant Son of the Gryphon. The true Bridge Builder came and lived among us, yet these choose to ignore the facts and go about building in ignorance!"

  A sudden loud fleshy thud followed by a nearby moan startled Jason and Nathan and snapped their attention back up the Roadway to discover its source. "GrandSire!" shouted Jason and ran toward the crumpled heap of humanity that lay at his brother's feet. Kaleb was crouched defensively like a cornered animal, looking up the incline for the source of the missile that had struck down the old man.

  Neither of them had long to wonder for an angry mob of men vomited out of the mouth of the archway a short distance above them. Stones and shouts filled the air as the hostile force swept down on the huddled group of travelers.

  "Get the Swimmers! They don't believe in our Bridge! They tell people that our path will not lead to the Gryphon's Land! Stone them! Throw them off the Road!"

  Nathan, suddenly large as a mountain and bold as fire, with pointed sword thrust skyward, rushed between the two groups, offering himself as a living wall of protection to those behind. In a voice that echoed off the mountain face and filled the air between the frozen statues and the massive Bridge with its overpowering sound, the bard shouted words that rang with the authority of the Gryphon, Himself.

  "By the Water and the Sword, in the Name of the Gryphon’s living Son, I command you to stop!"

  And the living tidal wave of angry humanity froze where it stood, suddenly uncertain of its course. Fifty work-stained men stood like statues in the shadow of the Arch, tools and fist-sized chunks of scaline rock in their upraised hands.

  Jason, down on the cobbled surface of the Road had gathered his GrandSire into his arms. Fear, for the o
ld man, for himself, his brother, and their defender wrapped itself around him like a smothering blanket. In that time-frozen moment, only one thought escaped his paralyzed brain, "This can't last!"

  "Gentlemen, what seems to be the problem?" asked a clear male voice from behind them. Jason jumped with a start, but before he could even turn, the source of the voice brushed past him and took up a position in front of the bard. Jason noted as he passed that the gaunt, white-haired speaker wore the purple robes of a physician.

  "You know me," called out the speaker, addressing the workmen still poised above him. "I help bring much business to your bridge! Some even accuse me of breaking the law to do so. But my supposed crimes are nothing compared to the ones you are about to commit! Does the mighty Dragon need to defend himself against the waves on which he floats? Will the wind move him where he doesn't wish to lie? Never! Wind and wave pass by and are nothing to him in their insignificance for he is massive beyond all their power! Like a Dragon, so is your cause and the work which you do. Can mere words spoken by uninformed travelers snap the mighty column of the greatest work of man? I tell you, NO!" And the speaker paused dramatically for a moment before shouting vehemently, "But your actions might! What will happen to your business if men and women hear that you brought about the deaths of four unwilling souls? How will they trust you with their precious dying ones once you have taken it upon yourselves to violate the unwilling living? Go back to work, lest you, by your actions be the end of us all! Yes, go now!"

  As the physician spoke, the still-raised arms of the mob members grew heavy with their burdens and slowly sank to each man's side. Each head in turn finally bowed in apparent embarrassed shame and the subdued workmen turned as a lot and disappeared back under the Arch.

  Assured of their compliance, the purple-robed physician quickly turned his back on the Tower and rushed back down the path to stoop over the wounded stranger he had rescued. Nathan, too, had knelt as their deliverer approached, signing to him with his still upraised sword profound thanks and debt. But the physician dismissed the implied servitude with a quick wave of his long bony hand. He obviously had more important things to do.

  "Let me see him, boy!" said the voice that had soothed the mob and Jason readily obeyed. Silently the physician removed his own rich purple outer cloak, rolling it into a pillow; he placed it on the dust of the road under GrandSire's head. "Well, old-timer, it looks like you're bleeding where that rock struck you," he said indicating the dark red spot forming on the linen cloth that covered the Heartlander's shoulder. As he gently opened the top of his patient's tunic to examine the wound, the old carver seemed to come vehemently alive.

  "I'm al' right!" he fussed, attempting to roll away from the doctor's touch. "It's jus' a scratch! No need for ya' t'be a troublin' yourself on my account!" but even as he struggled to move a stifled groan of pain involuntarily escaped his lips.

  With little apparent effort, the lanky physician pinned his patient's good shoulder back down to the surface of the road. The two men, brought face to face stared into each other's eyes for a moment.

  "Swimmer!" said the doctor forcefully to the injured Heartlander, "I know you know who I am. I also know that you and I don't see eye to eye on many issues; yet even you will have to agree that what I do, I do because I am compelled to bring relief to those in pain and suffering. Not all illnesses need to be treated in the same way, yet all those left untreated eventually buy passage on one Bridge or the other. Are you foolishly attempting to hasten that journey? Accept my help because I offer it to you freely. Or, if you will assume that, for the sake of business, I wish to have you and your companions safely past the unfriendly confines of this town. Whatever! Only allow me to tend your wound!"

  The Heartlander silently acquiesced and the physician, also silently, ministered to his patient, producing salves and bandages from the voluminous pockets of his purple tunic.

  Jason, perplexed by recent events, quietly confided in his mentor, "Why do people we don't even know want to hurt us, simply because of what they think we believe? And why do GrandSire and the doctor seem to be at odds with each other when the man saved our lives?"

  "Why indeed?" answered the bard. "The builders fear that the weight of a Swimmer would crush their bridge. As for the Doctor? Ask him his name."

  But before he could think of speaking, the physician had risen to his feet and was addressing them all. "I don't think your friend here has sustained any broken bones, just some contusions and a laceration where the scaline punctured his skin. He will be sore for a while but is able to travel if he doesn't exert himself too much. I suggest you go up the Path only as far as Scalina and find lodging there for tonight, so he can get a good night's sleep. And, oh yes, son, my name is Jack."

  SCALINA

  Jason worried as he watched his GrandSire's slow progress up the mountain Path. Visibly the events of the day had taken their toll. Gone was the bold gait of the Liberator who had escorted them victoriously down the heights from their Island prison. Gone, also, was the heroic strength of the defiant, living Statue who had faced and weathered unscathed the full blast of the dragonsbreath. Each step now appeared to be a labor whose wages drew from some deep but fast dwindling reserve. The old Heartlander clung to the massive arm of his friend, the bard, like a limp banner hanging around the top of its pole on a windless day.

  Compassion compelled Jason forward to bolster his GrandSire's sagging strength with his own. Firmly but gently, he gripped and supported the old man's free arm, asking, "GrandSire? Can I help you like this without hurting your sore shoulder?"

  Like candles lit in the windows of a darkened house, the carver's haggard face brightened at his grandson's presence. "Sure, Laddie, I could be a usin' your support. 'Tis good t'ave y' by me!"

  But the old Heartlander's breathing labored around his words and Jason could tell that the smile he wore was little more than a transparent mask. The boy saw past it, even though the encompassing twilight, to the strained grayness that had invaded his GrandSire's normally robust complexion. The sun's rays could still be seen touching the outer Bay and the distant Islands of the Archipelago (and the upper third of the Tower above them), yet they had been walking in increasingly darker shadow since the beginning of their upward trek.

  "How much further till we reach Scalina?!" asked Jason, desperation darkening his words. He looked past the old man's now slumping white head to gaze intently into the shadowed eyes of the bard, knowing his look and tone would convey an unspoken message. Four times on the switchbacking Road up the vertical side of the otherwise sheer scaline face of the cliff, they had passed under the buttressing arches of the Tower. Soon, according to Jason's reckoning, they would have to make their fifth turn, yet above them, the mountain seemed to climb on forever, unbroken except for the thin ledges of the Road scratched into its face. Where could anyone build a town in a place like this?

  However, his GrandSire, not the bard, raised his head to respond to Jason's question, and with a vehemence and sharpness that reminded the boy of the Heartlander's biting verbal strength and underlying conviction displayed earlier that day, "Iffin we be above the Cove O' Landing, then the Armpit O' the World mus' be jus' up ahead! Take heart, Laddie, today's journey is almos' o're. I can make these las' few steps. An' perhaps the Gryphon's winged ones'll 'ave gone afore us t' prepare the way."

  Jason, closest to the edge, dared to look over the precipice, down past the short, knee-height guard wall of rough-cut scaline rock, to a place far below where the dark waters of the Bay embraced the base of the Mainland. There, directly beneath them in the blackness at the foot of the Tower, lay what appeared to be a sparkling half-necklace of lights with a shining triangular pendant dangling from its base: the residents of Mann’s Pointe and the accompanying floating shantytown had lit their evening fires and candles in preparation for their night-time meal.

  "It's down there!" Jason's abrupt shout echoed off the bare rock and filled their narrow world with the sound of
his excitement. All three of his companions started as suddenly the mundane drudgery of their silent darkness was shattered by what was to become a swift avalanche of too loud words: "Then Scalina must be nearby, but I sure can't figure out where they've hidden it! Or for that matter, where they would put it in the first place! How could anyone fit a town on a Road that's scarcely two manheights wide? I've heard Scalina called the 'Armpit' before, but I know nothing about it, especially why it would have such an unflattering second name!"

  By the time Jason had finished his outburst (stopped by a lack of breath), even the injured Heartlander had joined the other two in quiet laughter at the boy's expense. "Whoa there, Laddie!" commented the white-haired man with an involuntary chuckle, "One dragonsbreath's enough for a day! Be careful where y' unleash a wind storm like that un', else ye'll be a-knockin' us off our perch on this mountain!"

  Luckily the gathering twilight hid the darkening color of the youth's face from his companions. Disarmed, but not defeated, a more subdued Jason attempted to defend his wounded dignity, "Aw, eagles wings! It's just that I'm concerned about you, GrandSire. An' besides, I've spent most of my life locked away in that Orphanage: goin' new places and seein' new things gets me so excited I feel like I'm gonna' burst!"

  Kaleb, from slightly ahead of the other three, turned to look back at his brother to add with a playful laugh, "Yeah, but just be careful which direction you do it in!"

  Nathan, however, took pity on his apprentice and did not further his embarrassment. Instead, he chose to shed some verbal light into the youth's still blushing darkness. "You'll have to wait and see where they've 'hidden' their town, Jason, but it well deserves its second name, twice over. Scalina is a mining town located in a vertical fold in the skin of this land on which we live. If you envision this land, as many do, in the shape of a sleeping dragon, then the peninsula where we landed this afternoon, where Mann’s Pointe and the Tower are located, is but the right foreleg of the Dragon. We have been climbing back and forth up the back of that arm to the place where it intersects the rest of the Mainland. That place can justly be called the 'Armpit of the World'. There's another one on the opposite side of Dragonsback, hosting the town of Dragonchain, an evil twin to Scalina in all her debauchery.