The Dragon's Back Trilogy

by Robert Dennis Wilson

  "On most of Dragonsback, the scaline bedrock is too hard to mine or is of such a brittle quality that it defies forging and metalwork. In several places, however, the scaline is softer and of a purer nature, so that it can be readily mined and then worked by a smithy or artisan into many useful (or unuseful) objects and tools."

  GrandSire snorted in disgust at the bard's use of words, "'Useful' my eye!" Apparently, thought Jason, recalling the Heartlander's unusual sword, even though he's a craftsman, for some reason he prefers carved bone to worked scaline.

  But Nathan continued on unabated, as though the old man's comments and remarks were an expected part of his normal daily life. "The wealth generated by the sale of both the finished works and unprocessed ore brings much luxury to the two mining towns. That affluence has also attracted all the things that the Dragon has to offer, but little of what belongs to the Gryphon. It is rightly said that anything there is can be bought for a price in the Pit."

  "Aye, and speakin' o' the Dragon, here we are!" said the old carver with animation filling his voice; his spirits and energy apparently restored by the prospect of the end of a long day's journey. "Welcome lads t' the gates of the Pit. This is the entrance to Scalina!"

  Jason had been noting absent-mindedly that the path around them had been growing mysteriously lighter (instead of darker like the surrounding night), but the diffuse light came from a source he could not detect, until that very moment. Nothing in his short and sheltered life had prepared him for his first look at the Grand Entrance of Scalina. He stopped and stared, open-mouthed at a mountainside transformed.

  The massive scale of this work of man dwarfed the boy into insignificance. Elaborately ornate columns nearly a hundred manheights high rose up the face of the cliff, still attached to the living rock that was their source. There must have been twenty of the gigantic pillars stretched out in a row, with their massive raised bases just touching the inner edge of the Road. Set back between, but connecting each of those columns, rose an elaborately carved wall of open arches and scaline latticework, transformed into glowing lace by the city lights shining out through them. Carved into these delicate-looking webs of stone Jason could make out the images of animals and fish, and also heroes displayed doing their historic deeds. There were even dragons and eagles frozen in desperate battle!

  As he strained his neck back and looked upward through the scaline screen of the Gates, Jason spied beyond them an equally elaborate and beautiful, multi-layered subterranean city carved into this single huge opening into the mountainside. The miners and artisans had not done the Dragon a disservice when they scratched away the surface of his armor, thought Jason to himself. Instead, they had taken only what they needed and deliberately transformed what remained into the most beautiful structure in the entire world!

  "Close your mouth, Lad, else someun' up above may try'n toss a coin in it!" The humor-filled words spoken with a thick Heartlander accent came through a scratchy, guttural voice that definitely did not belong to his GrandSire. Jason came to himself with a start and tried to find their source. "First time t' ever see the Gates o' Scalina?" the voice continued. And that time Jason saw that it issued from a wiry man wearing a blue knee-length tunic and a golden turban standing behind the archway in front of them. Light from the lantern held in his left hand gleamed off the raised shortsword he held in his right and also off of the friendly smile which peeked out from behind his bristly black mustache. Jason noted with not a little fear, the source of reflection on his sword; in spite of the man's friendly smile, his sword glistened in the lamplight—because it bore a highly polished razor-sharp edge! In all of his life, the youth had only ever seen unsharpened ceremonial swords before: the one raised above them now obviously had other purposes as well.

  However, to Jason's relief, the gate-keeper, so marked by his blue robes, threatened them no further. Instead, the still-smiling man quickly snapped his sword into an upright position in front of his face, in common swordsign indicating: I WILL GUARD! Next, he extended his arm full out and quickly dropped the point of the blade to the left until he held the scaline sword exactly horizontally so that the broad, flat side of its blade faced outward toward them. In all of these actions, the guard gave no hint of hostility, only of official purpose. With his sword still extended to the left, the man then deftly made several minute circles with the point of the blade: THE WAY IS BARRED, STATE YOUR CASE!

  Nathan the bard instantly stepped forward to represent the four travelers, leaving Jason to support his GrandSire. The boy leaned closer as the old carver whispered something into his ear, "As though they'd keep anyone out o' Scalina! The dregs of Dragonsback pass 'neath these gates an' welcome they are. This swordsign's nuttin' but a formality t' waste our time!"

  The bone whiteness of the bard's scrimshaw sword filled the area around them with a brightness that far out-shown the polished blade before him. Nathan quickly and adroitly signaled that they were pilgrims on a quest and requested aid as the right of travelers.

  As the sentry saluted them with his sword to acknowledge compliance with their request, his gruff brogue again broke through the muffled din of the vertical city behind him. "Father," he respectfully addressed the older Heartlander with a chuckle in his voice, "'Twas not really a 'waste o' time' for me t' see this bard's fine sword. The skills of Thaddeus the Carver's are well known among those who ride the waves, even in the Pit O' the World. As is also known the voice of 'is friend an' companion, Nathan the Bard. Now ye' gentlemen wouldn't happen t' know the whereabouts of two such respectable gents as them, would ye'?" As he talked, the smiling guard sheathed his sword and set his lantern in a niche carved into the scaline latticework of the gate.

  "Well, for the love of the Gryphon!" commented Nathan with incredulity filling his words. "A Swimmer in the ranks of the guards of Scalina! Who would have thought?"

  Jason met his brother's gaze and saw the anger written in his eyes. The apprentice bard already knew what filled the other's mind before Kaleb shrugged, raised his empty hands, palms upward, and mouthed silent words dripping with venom, "What, more Swimmers?!"

  The younger brother didn't have much time to think of the implications of that question for at that moment Thaddeus, the carver, poked an elbow in his youngest grandson's ribs and motioned to be aided closer to the guard. "Whaddid-I tell ya', Laddie? Didn't I say the Gryphon'd send his winged 'uns t' watch out fer us?" Then he attempted to rise to his full height, stand on his own, and verbally greet the sentry, "Aye, Laddie, we heard tell o' them two rascals!" He turned his head to add a wink in his grandson's direction. "Heard they's a couple o' troublemakers, liable t' turn any respectable town like this Pit o' yours downside up. Best y' be keepin' your eyes open fer the likes o' them!"

  With that he stepped forward and gripped the now empty-handed guard on each of his forearms in greeting, saying, "Well met, broth'r o' the Gryphon's Son!" But then the old man stumbled and would have fallen on top of the surprised guard if the bard and Jason had not rushed to support him.

  "What's wrong, Father?" asked the guard, his mustache drooping in a concerned frown as he escorted the old man to his own seat just inside the scaline archway. "But what's this? Blood on your tunic? You've been injured! How did this happen? Who would dare?..."

  "Ach! 'Tis nothin'!" protested the old carver. "The builders down below overheard me talkin' t' the lads an' didn't take kindly t' m' interpretation o' their handiwork. Tried t' show me up close how well they could handle some scaline. I'll be fine as soon as I'm rested a bit."

  "An' that y' shall, in my home t'night! My name is Lot ben Arribas. Here, ol' timer, drink some o' this," said the guard as he reached into a cubbyhole carved into the side of the portal and pulled out what Jason instantly recognized as a Swimmer's waterskin of adoption, plainly marked with the golden crest of a Gryphon. He heard Kaleb take in a sharp breath behind him and then mutter something under it.

  The blue-robed man continued, almost apologetically, "Can't wear this wh
ile I'm on duty, else I'd be outta' uniform. Officially, no Swimmers are allowed t' live in 'ere! I do what they tell me so I can keep m' job. No, not fer m' own sake, but so's I can warn broth'rs an' sist'rs like y'self 'bout not wand'rin' through the main concourse o' the city!"

  Something about the hidden Gryphon 'skin triggered a question in Jason's mind that had blurted out before he could stop it, "But your sword? it looked like scaline... I thought Swimmers always carried swords of bone!"

  Then, realizing the impropriety of his words (when he hadn't even been introduced to this man who was not only his elder but also an official of the city), an embarrassed Jason quickly drew his own scaline shortsword and held the hilt across his mouth, verbalizing out loud the meaning of his sign, "Oh, I'm very sorry, please forgive me, sir!"

  The profuse black mustache shook with laughter as the guard exclaimed, "Not t' worry, Lad! I've taken no offense at your question!" As if to prove his point, he then extracted the blade in question and offered it hilt first to the surprised boy. "Careful though laddie, that there's a sentry's blade and it has quite an edge.”

  To offer another the right to examine your sword was a high mark of respect akin to a child submitting himself for examination by a parent or bondservant prostrating himself before his master! Jason just stood there in uncertainty with his hands still gripping his own sword tightly to his mouth.

  "Well, go on, Laddie," said his GrandSire gently with a smile. "Take the man's sword, lest y' offend 'im even more. T' a Swimmer, when a fault's been made, both parties must offer the other their swords for an open examination so's the offense can return an' not be carried any further."

  Still uncertain why and exactly what he was doing, Jason silently complied with the wishes of the dear old Heartlander who had come to mean so much to him in such a short time. Feeling naked and exposed, he offered his sword to the stranger in blue and received the guard's sword into his own hand.

  Ever the teacher, Nathan endeavored to help his student grasp the symbolism inherent in his actions, "By identifying ourselves as slaves in the way you've just done, we Swimmers remind each other that we are all only willing servants of the Gryphon, purchased by Him at great cost. After all, a slave or an underage child has no rights in the thornhouse: it's up to his master or guardian to take up his cause and defend him."

  Light, like the bright smile of the guard appearing from behind his oversized mustache, broke through Jason's mental darkness. "Then if ya' give your sword away, you'll never throw it down in challenge, and never have to take up thorns against each other!"

  "Exactly!" exclaimed the bard, beaming in the lamplight at his student.

  Jason, always attuned to his brother (they had been each others' only real company for all those years of their imprisonment) thought he heard Kaleb mutter under his breath words that sounded like, "Crazy Swimmers! The whole lot of 'em is mad as a stone. No thorns indeed!"

  Jason turned his head toward the sound, but his older sibling had his back to them and, with his view no longer hindered by the Gateway, was staring up and up at the marvelous layered balconies, arches, and catwalks which stretched upward almost as far as the eye could see inside the mountain! The bard's apprentice would have liked to join his brother in a good long stare, but the sound of his mentor quietly clearing his throat brought him tumbling back down to reality.

  He blushed as he realized, I am holding another man's sword! And he has mine! What do I do next? What's the proper protocol. Wait! What did GrandSire say? '...for open examination!' I'm supposed to look at his sword!

  Then under the watchful eye of his elders, Jason actually lifted the guard's sword to look at it closely for the first time. "Why, this isn't scaline at all! It's carved and colored to look like it is, but it's really a piece of carved bone! This is truly an amazing piece of work!" Silently, however, the boy wondered what trick had been used to give the sword's edge its polished appearance, but felt way too embarrassed to ask such a personal question.

  The gold-turbaned sentry nodded his head in acknowledgment of the boy's praise and then offered Jason's own sword back to its rightful owner, hilt first. Following his queue, Jason did likewise, also wondering why a Swimmer would want to camouflage the fact of his identity.

  At that moment a booming male voice thundered at them from close by, causing all five members of the group to jump: "Is there a problem here, Sergeant?"

  A tall clean-shaven man with a nose like a huge broken mountain ridge, suddenly stood among them, filling all the empty space with a swish of his deep blue and gold-braided robe.

  "Capt'n, sir!" replied the black mustache suddenly snapping to his feet to stand at rigid attention; all business now in the presence of his superior. His words, too, snapped (at least as much as they could for one whose tongue was Heartland born and bred) as he answered and made request, "These friends o' mine 'ave just arrived up the Road from the port, an' the elder 'un, here's been injured in their journey by a fallin' stone! Sir, I 'spectfully request p'mission t' take them t' my home t' tend 'is wound an' see t' their needs. I'll gladly double m' watch t'morrow if I can be excused for the rest o' t'night. Sir, thank y', sir!"

  Apparently, in spite of his severe demeanor, the Captain of the Guard was in a good mood that evening for he laughed briefly at his subordinate's request, commenting out loud, "Lot, I sometimes wonder why you ever became a guard. Your heart's too soft for it! And why are you thanking me? I haven't said 'yes' yet, have I?" But though his words were loud and filled with warrior-like sternness, Jason heard in them a hint of softness.

  Lot, the guard, must have heard it also, for he boldly continued, "No sir, y' haven't! But, then again, sir, y' haven't said 'No!' either, sir!"

  "Lot, sometimes when I'm wondering, I also wonder who's in charge around here!"

  "Why, o' course you are, sir! Everyone knows that!"

  "As I said, sometimes I wonder." Then, with military toughness back in his voice, the Captain barked, "Well, what are you and your friends still doing here cluttering up my gate?!" But under his breath, he added so only they could hear, "Just take care that you keep those Swimmers clear of the public. I don't want any trouble on my watch!"

  "Yes, sir! Thank y', sir!" said Lot briskly saluting his officer with swordsign that conveyed the same respect and gratitude.

  "Well, lads, let's go a'fore m' Capt'n changes 'is mind!" said Lot cheerfully. "M' 'omes not too far, so y' should be safe iffin y' don't attract no 'tention t' yerselves."

  As he led the group off to their right, the friendly blue-robed guard motioned for Jason to join him at the front of the line. Nathan still supported Thadeus and Kaleb followed behind. At times they were forced to walk single file for there were pedestrians and human-powered wagon-carts everywhere, even at this late hour. Soon Lot turned to their left up a wide ramp that led deeper into the interior of the mountain and the heart of the city.

  Something about the scaline walls and strange twisted buildings surrounding him (to the left, to the right, above, and below) made Jason feel very uneasy. Was it only his imagination or was he being swallowed up by the mountain, lost and drowning under tons of endless stone? Yet that stone had a purpose: it was, after all a city filled with living people and they all seemed to survive here.

  And what a city, thought Jason, trying to push aside his apprehension. He gazed upward into the living web of stone that was Scalina and instantly felt like a tiny creature down in the dust beneath a mighty forest of trees. Colossal multi-sided columns of scaline lace rose at varying distances to sprout branches of arches and roads that intertwined with each other at irregular intervals as they reached into the heights. The roads and arches provided entrance into the center of the columns where the people of Scalina lived and played, and where they conducted their businesses day and night. The whole hollow structure supported itself only because of its interconnectivity. "This must be what a thorntree forest looks like from underneath!" he commented to Lot.

  "Y'are very perceptive,
there Lad," said Lot shaking his head sadly. "Indeed, they're more alike than mos' people care t' agree. The Dragon pumps the poison into one an' ‘as his people do it for 'im in the second! Both're filled with evil purposes. But what about ye', Laddie m' boy? It's m' guess an' hope that y' two lads be Thaddeus' missing grandsons. Am I truthful in that?"

  While he spoke the sentry continually turned his head this way and that. Jason could see that his eyes also were in constant motion as though he were still on duty and watching for the enemy in every face he passed. He did pause his visual patrol long enough to acknowledge Jason's nod of affirmation.

  "Then this 'ere's a day o' praise an' celebration! There's been much reflectin' an' not a few battles fought on yer behalf by many throughout the Heartlan'. I'm glad the Gryphon gave 'ol Thaddeus the answer he sought! When we reach my home you'll have t' tell us yer story!"

  The sudden realization that others besides his GrandSire were concerned about his welfare surprised Jason. Caught off guard, the youth groaned inwardly as this news snagged on the bitter thorns he carried and brought fresh and remembered pain from their razor points. Its coming pushed the almost suffocating weight of an unshed ocean of tears up past his heart and almost out to the surface. All that time! All that dark and lonely time—he had not been forgotten!

  A person with friends is never alone, he thought with burning conviction. Yesterday Kaleb and I were alone in the world, forsaken orphans. Yet, today, somehow, we belong and we also have an army of unmet friends who know our names, speaking them aloud to the Gryphon?!

  To hold back the liquid emotion that threatened to expose him to the world, Jason consciously followed the guard’s example and also began to examine the people they passed. A cross-section of Dragonsback's diverse peoples, the mingling mixed mass of humanity that they encountered on the walkways and tunnels found commonality only in three ways that he could detect: in their combined apparent lack of concern for the four strangers in their midst; in their corporate sense of busyness and hurry which isolated them into individual human whirlwinds; and in the profusion of polished scaline chains that they wore. Almost without exception, Jason noted, the citizenry of Scalina sported around their necks an abundance of shining metallic chains of various weights and lengths. One old man's chain had such large links and was of such extraordinary length that its weight stooped him over and the polished scaline drug on the ground, causing a ringing sound as he hobbled along. Others made the appearance of walking proudly erect under multiple layers upon layers of smaller chains; all the while their legs visibly shook from the sustained effort they endured to maintain their pose.