Never taking his eyes from those of the beloved old Heartlander, he struck the pose of a singer, that he had seen Nathan employ and said softly but very intensely, "The window of our room in the Orphanage faced toward Dragonsback across the Bay. We were imprisoned in the highest room on the highest point of Central Isle, so we had a better view than any other man. That window became my only picture of hope. As long as I could gaze out from its heights, I could still believe in today and will myself to face tomorrow! And though I was forbidden to sing, looking out that window filled my heart with songs. Out that window I would sing my silent Morningsong, greeting the dawn of every lonely day. No other living person has ever heard these words: GrandSire, I sing them now to you!"
Then the emerging man inside the boy found a voice. It did not have yet the strength or depth of maturity to send it forth as a conqueror, rather it came with the still shaky, tentative conviction of an explorer who, though not yet certain where he was going, knew beyond doubt's shadow that he was destined to reach a distant and glorious goal. And so Jason sang: his sad tenor notes a silver bow that shot arrows into the hearts of all who heard:
"Through my window, I can see
The Land that rises like the dawn
To cover half the sky:
But when ev'ning comes and its shadows rise,
I remember what is gone
And then try not to cry.
By sight I touch my parents' land;
Reach for the place that was my home,
For there this child was born:
But from its shores they slipped away
And I was torn to live alone,
Still waiting for the one who's sworn.
And when the moments of the years
Are measured on a clock of tears
Whose hands but weigh their sum,
From open window, I mark their time,
Yet will not listen to their fears:
I still believe that he will come!
The promise will at last ring true,
Once more together we will stand:
Together cross the deadly Sea!
Then he and I walk hand in hand
To scale the heights of Dragonsland:
Today he'll come to set me free!”
And in the reining silence that followed, old man and young man met, and embraced, and shed tears over all the years that had been stolen away. All the while beside them the master bard knelt in silent homage to his student.
Later, Joannah quietly led the old Heartlander and his grandson to an adjoining room where bedrolls were laid out. As Jason passed her, Shoshanna raised her head from where she sat on the floor to briefly gaze up into his eyes and reward the young bard with a smile that rivaled the noon-time sun for its warm brightness. Then he passed by into the night.
Jason lay so that he could hold onto his GrandSire's hand and the two of them talked quietly for a time. Out in the main room, Nathan succumbed to the entreaties of his hosts and filled the night with gentle, soothing Gryphonsong. The last thing Jason remembered was thinking, What a difference a day has made! Listening to Nathan's words, he fell asleep:
"He that is born of the Gryphon,
Beneath the waves won't sink:
Forsaking the venomous flow,
From the River will not drink.
As sons of the Gryphon's Son,
The truth you'll realize:
Upon the Dragon's back,
The whole of man's realm lies." *7
~ ~ ~
The boy who sang like a man stood alone in the thick darkness, watching with eyes that could see no light. No stars were visible. Nor, for that matter, was anything else. Blackness surrounded him. Instinctively he knew: this was not the Place. He had visited There many times before and would have known. No, this was another place. Different.
The wind did not howl here... Instead, it moved first in one direction, then in the other in a repeated cycle. Slowly back and forth it went, rhythmically in the warm, moist blackness, but still with enough force for him to feel it move the stiff linen fabric of his night-hidden tunic. Yes, definitely another place.
That realization tempted him to feel relief, almost. Maybe, this time will be different? his thoughts asked and pleaded with the dark. There is no broken Column here, no Sea below, no gaping chasm to fear. Perhaps there would be no ...
He could not bring himself to say the dreaded word even in his mind as if thinking the thought would conjure the reality. He sought other, less dangerous thoughts.
Where am I? What should I do? Why am I here?
In the blackness he felt the Wind tug him first one way, then the other. As if it were a living thing, imploring him to decide. Go this way! No, come this way instead!
He could not see but did not trust this fickle, too warm Wind. Shuffling his unseen feet, he moved at right angles to its ebb and flow. Drawing his sword, he extended it outward, groping at the unknown in his blindness.
Tug. Push. Go my way! No, my way!
The scraping of his feet told him more about his environment than either sight or sword. He could feel a hard, almost polished smooth surface below him, yet it had been marred by uneven grooves or cracks that ran left and right, paralleling the flow of the air. In the brief moments when the Wind stopped to change direction, he could hear the scraping whispers made by his boots. They echoed off of nearby surfaces, in front, behind, and just over his head.
Instinctively he raised his shortsword and instantly felt a jar in his wrist as the blade clanked against a rock-metal surface. Scaline! Not the thin carved-out shells that were human habitations in a city he remembered somewhere in his past. No, this sound had been filled with the deadening solidarity of multiplied manheights of virgin rock.
I am in the Dragon!
Crushing fear threatened his sanity. In his mind, the massive static weight of the tunnel that held him suddenly constricted inward. He could not breathe! Stumbling forward, the changing Wind pushed him off balance, sending him crashing into the stone-hard wall. In the darkness, in spite of his best efforts, he followed his clattering sword to the ground.
I am in the Dragon!
The Wind... back and forth... It's, it's Dragonsbreath!
Cold, dark infinity filled the frigid void of time, his time. Alone in the dark, he lay frozen where he fell on the floor. Fear chilled his limbs to inaction. Uncertainty numbed his mind past caring or comprehending. Nor did the warm ebb and flow of the air over his body do anything at all to warm his shivering heart.
Then the blinded watcher heard the Noise. In the distance, like chalk on a black scaline slate, the high whistling screech tore through him, setting his teeth on edge.
Screech. Pause. Screech! Pause.
The Sound's growing in intensity! he thought in sudden panic. Whatever’s making that sound must be getting closer to me.
SCREECH!
Wait, it's timed with the Wind! Every time the -- the breath comes from that direction, I hear the Noise. But when the air changes directions, it stops!
SCREECH!
The Wind must be pushing something this way! Something very very big!
The time for thinking had passed, the young man groped madly in the darkness for his fallen sword. Finding it, he scrambled to his feet and ran blindly through the darkness-- away --away from the Sound!
SCREEECH!
Under his feet, the floor, though scarred with uneven ridges, was nevertheless smooth and slippery enough to make it treacherous. This and the uncertainty of darkness forced him to run with his sword in his left hand while his right skimmed the wall for support. Once, twice he stumbled in his flight. The Thing was almost on him!
SCREEEECH!
Again he fell, tumbling and painfully striking his head against the wall as he went down. Somehow he ended up seated in a heap, facing back toward the source of the Sound. Because his eyes had been so long blinded by the darkness, he thought for an instant that he was seeing stars from the knock on his head.
>
SCREEEECH!
No, I've never seen stars colored bright red like that before. Besides these are moving toward me.
Then memories of a thousand other nights of terror raced through his mind; nights filled with flying shadows, their flashing eyes as glowing embers burning deadly arcs across the midnight sky! Dragons!
Recognition brought a sudden calmness to his strange, black universe. I am dreaming! Soon I will be awake and all of this will pass away, like a wave passing a ship. The dragons cannot really hurt me!
SCREEEECH!
The next breath of Wind would sweep the dragon over him! In defiance, still from his position on the floor, he raised in both hands the sword he had carried through the darkness. But in this dream world, the blade he held had changed from what he expected.
This is not my sword, thought the watcher in surprise. This is no splinter chipped from the back of the Dragon, this is carved bone. I am holding my GrandSire's sword!
So he held his weapon raised as he had seen the old Heartlander do against the dragonsbreath and whispered a silent plea to the Gryphon the old man served, "I know, Mighty Gryphon, this is a dream, but please help me to face my foe!"
As if in response, the scrimshaw blade in his hand, suddenly started glowing with a pale white brightness, like moonlight falling on an open field at night. By its light, he saw the approaching serpent. Taller than himself, blacker than the surrounding night, the creature stood facing him with all four of its scaly legs extended and locked rigid. Its metal-hard claws gripped into the grooves along the floor. These were the source of the Noise: scaline metal talons tearing across scaline metal tracks as the beast rode the Wind through the tunnel. Its wings, closed against an oncoming headwind, suddenly snapped open as the Wind changed, making them sails to drive the dark creature forward straight at him!
SCREEEEEETCH!
The boy inside the man closed his eyes. But the Sound passed by and kept on going. With the passing, a chill, like ice in the North, filled his bones and set the youth to shivering, but the dragon had passed by, leaving him untouched!
Slowly the torturous Noise receded into the darkness. Windblown blackness again filled his world for, with the passing of the winged creature, the sword had turned dark once more.
Content to sit and breath, the youth forgot for a moment his location, for the simple joy of being alive.
Push. Pull. The Wind again asserted reality into the dream.
I am in the Dragon!
I am in the Dragon, but why am I here? Why didn't that warrior dragon see me? Just what is it I'm supposed to be doing here?
But the blackness offered no answers except "Push" or "Pull". Go this way. Go that way.
“I've already come from that way,” he decided. “So I don't want to backtrack my steps. I might as well follow that blinded bat that swept through here!”
His words, spoken out loud, sounded braver than he felt. The last thing he wanted was to stumble into a nest of dragons. One dragon had missed him in the darkness as it flashed by. He might not be so lucky the next time. Yet the decision made, he gathered himself together and started once again down the passageway, one hand touching the wall, the other using the sword like a cane to tap his way along like a blind man.
The eternal night concealed everything from the traveler, including time. How long he walked, carefully placing one unseen foot in front of the other, he could not have guessed. To fill his mind and find some point of reference in the darkness, he began counting his footsteps in a whispered voice that hopefully only he could hear.
Twice more he cowered at the base of the wall behind a thin glowing blade of bone as unheeding dragons swept by him into the night. As he stared after the retreating sound of the third lizard's passage, he first noticed a change in his environment.
Moisture dripped irregularly from the ceiling to strike his head and shoulders. Cool slime marred the surface of the wall, causing him to retract his fingers in revulsion. In the distance, he noticed for the first time a soft green spot that became brighter as the red-tinged shadows caused by the retreating dragon disappeared from view.
Well, at least this tunnel leads somewhere, he thought.
With a goal in sight, he quickened his pace only to discover too soon that the green light did not come from an opening or chamber in the passageway. With disgust, he recognized the green glow as only the effects of luminescent slimes and mosses growing on the vile goo that now contaminated the walls. The air around him became more and more acrid and bitter to his taste and he knew the moisture on the wall also caused the evil stench. His eyes started watering. He soon learned to inhale only when the Wind pushed fresher air at him from behind.
Then, two things happened at once. He noticed a widening of the passage ahead and he heard the tell-tale sound of another dragon approaching from the rear.
His fearful thoughts became claws that tore into his imagination, forcing screeching words into his mind; I'll never be able to hide from a dragon in this much light! I've walked too far in the lighted passage to make it back to the darkness before that lizard gets here! I must run for the opening ahead! Maybe I can find a place to hide!
Even while thinking this, his feet were already acting on their own to carry him forward. Terror whipped him into faster and faster flight until suddenly he burst unthinking out into a large green-lit cavern.
Instantly realizing the foolishness of his actions, he dove to his right for cover, rolling against the damp, moss-covered semi-hardness of the cavern wall.
Just in time! he thought as a large dragon shot out of the tunnel-like a bolt from a mechanical bow, spreading its wings to soar up into the shadowy dimness of the immense cavern.
I wonder if anyone saw me? What is that awful smell? Why would anyone be emptying their chamber pots down here? Where did that dragon fly off to? questions flooded his mind, but still, he stared toward the ceiling trying to locate the flying lizard in the tangle of bumps affixed to the distant ceiling.
Until...
"What in the name of the Gryphon?" the whispered words involuntarily escaped his lips. "Dragons!"
His eyes, at last, had adjusted to the dim light of the upper reaches of the cavern. The all-consuming terror of that moment, dream or not, reached beyond the worst nightmare he had ever experienced; it reached beyond human words or even thoughts. The sheer magnitude of the hosts of his enemy arrayed above him overwhelmed the lone boy to abysmal insignificance: by comparison, he felt a tiny fleck of foam drowning on an eternal and infinite sea of filth. Its weight crashed over him in incomprehensible wave after towering wave of naked polluted fear.
Dragons, as numerous as grains of sand on the shore, filled every available space of the huge upper cavern. Dragons: some as large as houses, others smaller than himself, most somewhere in between smothered the cave. Hanging upside down like bats, the ceiling was a living, moving blanket of black shadows decorated with tiny sparks of red and green. The bitter smell that burned his nose and eyes issued from the mountains of droppings that the centuries had laid on the floor of the cave on which he lay.
An involuntary shiver of revulsion shook the boy so hard that he felt sure his enemy above must see or hear his movement.
Escape! I must escape! What if they see me? Where should I run? Which way?
He stifled a gagging cough that threatened to reveal his location. In the enforced silence, the incongruity of the sound he heard next left him stunned.
What was that? he strained to hear again.
Human voices!? There are people nearby, talking out loud! Who could they be? Why are they here of all places? Are they prisoners of the dragons?
Curiosity conquered fear and loosened his immobile limbs. Slowly the youth rose to a crouching position and crept forward along the cavern wall toward the next cave opening. Even from his position stooped down against the wall, he could see many such entrances circling the perimeter of the great hall of the dragons. Whether they led to tunnels or chambers,
the dragons’ lair formed a hub that connected many spokes.
As he crept carefully along he saw other dragons shooting out of other tunnels to rise to their gathering place above.
I only see them coming one way, he mused. Must mean it's gettin' light out and they can't fly about in the open anymore. Either that or they're grouping together for some sort of meeting. I can't believe there's so many of them! Another thing I can't believe is that I am seeing and thinking about dragons as calmly as I am! I really don't want to turn my back on them, but I'm up to this opening now and I've got to see what's going on in there!
The entrance, slightly larger than the tunnel he had fled from, stood about four manheights wide and two high. It was dry which meant it was also free from the light-producing moss. As he stared into the darkness, waiting for his eyes to readjust to the gloom, he heard the voices clearly for the first time.
"That incompetent fool has jeopardized everything! He cannot know the well-laid plans he has sent up in smoke!" The woman's voice, though speaking angry words, carried a breathy sensual quality that instantly set a fire in the heart of the hidden watcher. He inched closer all the while fearing discovery: she did not sound like a prisoner!
"Yes, my Lady," answered a strong male voice, almost militaristic in its decorum. "That pompous quill-pusher shall be made acutely aware of your displeasure! I've taken the liberty of arranging something suitable. You will be both satisfied and amused!"
"That's what I like about you, darling," she replied with a sultry purr in her voice. "You know your place, but you're always so eager to get ahead. I do so like surprises!"
The chamber curves to the left, the youth suddenly realized. They're around the bend!
Recognizing his position made him safe from detection (at least from those inside the chamber), he quickly scurried across and deeper into the opening to peer around the edge into the candle-lit elegance beyond. The elaborately furnished room seemed oddly out of place in the heart of the Dragon. A large giant of a man wrapped in a black cloak sat with his back toward the entrance. The woman he had heard must have been seated opposite to the large man, obscured by his massive bulk, for the watcher could not see her at all.
The Dragon's Back Trilogy Page 11