With fresh tears streaming from his eyes, Jason’s heart soared like an eagle with the uplifting strength of the master bard's simple song:
The sun has set,
And though I know
It will rise elsewhere,
Its passage leaves me cold
And so, alone
Now in the dark.
A wave passed by,
And though I see it break
On distant shore,
Yet, I find my eyes
Are searching
For lingering traces
Of its passing mark.
You have moved on,
Oh faithful friend
And loving father,
Swum through the clouds,
The Bridge, at last, is crossed;
But, like treasure spent,
I find that I am empty,
And can but remember
What I gained and what it cost.
Though I could wish you here,
I will not call you;
For you have journeyed home,
Where you belong.
So until the Gryphon wills
That I should join you,
I will keep for you
A place in heart and song!
THE QUESTION
“Is the bottomless Sea filled with the taste of salt ‘cause it catches the tears of all the men and women who suffer?” Jason’s silent question, came unbidden and unanswered, prompted by a fresh taste of salt in his mouth. Its fountain source had barely ceased flowing for seven days and now on the eighth, though somewhat assuaged, still flowed intermittently as with a mind of its own. Questions and tears. Tears and questions. Would there be no end to their flowing or the pain that squeezed them out of him?
“Is that all we’re here for in this life, to suffer and then to die?” Jason’s silent thoughts accused the open sky above him. It’s not fair! My GrandSire just found us and now he’s gone! It’s just not fair!
But another voice deep inside him seemed to argue against the persuasion of the pain, He knew he was going away. He made it his goal in life to find you and set you free before that happened. He gave his life energy and at the last, his very life to accomplish that… for you!
The boy-man shed fresh tears, but now for the first time, prompted by love, not loss.
While they climbed up from the sea up to the mountain pass before them, Jason spent much time grieving the dual loss of his GrandSire and his brother. He hardly knew the kindly old Heartlander who had obtained their freedom from the prison Orphanage, yet he had been family. Deep within, an aching loneliness had invaded that special spot his GrandSire had always filled even in his absence. Now he and Kaleb were alone in the world. And no longer together. They had never ever been separated before and, though Nathan was interesting and good company, still he was not family.
And so Jason trudged behind his Master: for a time his tears, his questions, and his pain were his closest companions. The bard must have sensed this need in his ward, for he kept his lessons to a minimum, freely offering instead the safe harbor of his silent companionship. Jason eventually rode out the rough waves on his sea of salt and sought at last rest in that strong solace.
After their GrandSire's passing all three of them had descended once more to the Flying Eagle, having stopped for a brief overnight stay in Scalina. Then, once more on board, together they had sailed south, back down along the Inner Coast of the Bay until they reached the border of the Hinterlands. There, in the small town of Claw Cove, Jason had said his goodbyes to his still sullen older brother. The Orphanage Director had kept his word, for a green-robed official from Arden Nox College stood waiting for them on the dock when they arrived. Kaleb had been enrolled at this school to "benefit" from the government-sponsored program. His course of studies would train him to become a guardian, Riverwatcher priest. With a tortured heart, Jason had watched his brother disappear westward up the Inland Road toward the River. Shortly after that he and the bard had headed up the northern fork of the road across the border into the Heartland.
Thinking about his brother having to sit in that monastery copying books, prompted an increasingly lonely Jason to ask his teacher, (Anything to get my mind off of this brooding!) "You are a singer of the Songs of the Gryphon. My purpose in life, according to my GrandSire's last wish, is to learn those Songs, so I can teach them to others. Why was the Gryphon's Word never put down in scrolls so men could carry it with them?"
It was a small first step, that question, yet Jason knew in voicing it that he had turned a corner. Behind him lay a dark and dismal past. The future, well, the future would lie ahead, no matter what it held. He would embrace it. That’s what GrandSire would have wanted.
"Your question is the answer," was the only response Nathan would give.
With a barely audible sigh, Jason thought to himself: Getting answers out of this bard is going to be like trying to get a Pascan monk to giggle. Impossible! He wants me to think about everything! But out loud, he only prompted, "I don't think I understand," having discerned already that the bard also loved to shine a light into dark places.
Nathan did not disappoint him for the teacher readily snapped up the bait left by the student: "A scroll is something men carry with them: a song is something men carry in them. The Gryphon's Word was never meant to simply be carried and read like other scrolls. Listen: if you had a seed of the most beautiful flower ever grown, one sent to you as a gift from the shore of the falls in the Gryphon's Land; if you had such a seed, what would you do with it?"
Jason knew that he was the one who was being baited now, but he loved stories with hidden meanings, so willingly responded, "I would plant it, and water it. I would care for it and then enjoy it as it grew!"
"Exactly!" said the bard, growing obviously more excited. "Of course you would; and in so doing it would produce more seeds that you could scatter all over Dragonsback, filling it with the glory of the Gryphon. But what would you think of someone who had such a seed, and instead of planting it, carried it around with him, taking it out to examine it every chance he got. 'Oh, what potential!' he would say. 'Oh, what beauty lies within this unplanted seed! And it is mine to carry wherever I go!'"
In spite of—or maybe because of having lived in Master Marvin's sterile Orphanage for most of his life, Jason loved flowers. He loved their unfettered beauty. He loved their freedom to express themselves. The thought of wasting all of that "potential" made him furious at the selfishness it implied. "Why, that man would be a fool! The beauty he held would be no beauty at all! And the seed would soon die and lose its ability to grow!"
Nathan waited for a long moment, letting his student taste the emotion he had invoked, before saying, ever so quietly, "So must the Word of the Gryphon produce a song!"
Jason felt the truth of this answer in his heart. Though he didn't actually know the Gryphon, it made sense that the Great Gryphon would want His word to be a living part of His followers, not something they could conveniently leave behind whenever they chose.
"Master?" Jason turned the title into a question.
"What troubles you, son? I can see you're dying to ask me something. Go ahead, trust me when I promise you I won't think you foolish for asking."
"It's just I didn't want to seem disrespectful to the Gryphon, but I've had this question wanderin' around in my head for the longest time and it’s just got to get out!"
"Well, by all means, let it loose!" said the bard chuckling. "You look like a full wineskin that's been left out in the hot sun: ready to burst if even a falling leaf lands on it!"
Jason, too, laughed nervously at his own expense before continuing, "Master, you speak of the 'word of the Gryphon' as though He, Himself, had given those words to you. Yet, in fact, those words were given centuries ago by men who spoke a different language than we do now. The words you sing, the words my GrandSire and you want me to memorize and devote my life to, are translations of translations that have been passed from one man
to another over many lifetimes. How can you be so sure that they are still 'the word of the Gryphon' and not just our corruption of His words?"
Jason filled the silence that followed his words with a huge sigh, as though the releasing of his question had lifted an immense weight from his shoulders. (In truth, his pack did feel lighter after expressing his doubts to his friend.)
After a moment’s thought, the bard replied and Jason noted a tender kindness in his words, "That is not a question to be feared or ashamed of. It shows much wisdom and thought. In fact, son, it is a very, very important question. Whatever I have become as a Swimmer and Fisher of Men depends totally on my understanding of its answer. If I am following the words of men who are as imperfect as I am, then they, well-intentioned as they were, might well lead me astray... My purpose in life is to be a conveyor of truth, yet even though a 'skin filled with poison might momentarily quench the thirst, it still brings death in the end. How do I know that the words that I carry and share with men are His words and not poison?"
A tear, unbidden, escaped from Jason's eye. He now realized for the first time that this man, who was his companion, would never hold his fearful doubts or doubtful fears against him. Once expressed, they would never be turned back on him as weapons or chains. At last, thought the youth, I am free to ask whatever I want, no matter how sacred or mundane the question. GrandSire is gone, Kaleb has been taken from me, but Nathan is truly my friend! I have a friend! A second tear followed the first.
People talk about things tear-stained. Looking down, Jason never would have thought of the two dark marks of moisture on his linen tunic as stains. Love’s proud gifts were rather badges of manhood to be openly displayed. Whatever future braids he won to mark its sleeve, his GrandSire's gift would never be graced with a worthier token than the tears of that moment.
Unaware of the transformation occurring within his young ward, the bard continued with his answer. "When our first Father was fashioned from sea-moistened sand on the shore of the Gryphonsland, the Gryphon stooped down and breathed into that lifeless sand the breath of lives. That breath not only gave our father life, but has also been passed on to all his children down through the ages. All of those children and children's children have been made alive because they still carried in them the breath that the Gryphon breathed into our first father. Have you ever seen a man, woman, or child who was deformed at birth through no fault of their own?"
As though impatient for Jason's silent nod, the bard quickly continued, "No matter how much they were obstructed by these 'defects' from being what men would consider 'perfect', those marked at birth still have within them the breath of life that was passed down to them from their parents. Their 'imperfections' become to those courageous individuals a daily challenge that they must learn to face and overcome if they are to succeed in 'normal' society. Other men, through accidents or warfare, have been scarred or marked so greatly that they are barely discernible as men. Yet the life that breaths within them is the same as the life in you and me: a gift from the Gryphon. No matter the limitations on the package, the gift inside remains the same!"
Jason could feel the passion with which his mentor spoke but didn't see how this was an answer to his question. He started to ask what this meant when the bard silenced him with a stopping motion of his upraised hand and then continued.
"Don't you see? The word of the Gryphon is the same. The Great Gryphon breathed life into His words just like He did to our first Father. And yes, He used imperfect men to record the perfect message. In doing this He acted exactly like a master painter, Who, knowing the individual texture and quality of each brush and paint in His collection, used each in its uniqueness to produce a masterpiece. In the end, it was His masterpiece, His work of art. The credit did not go to the brushes, or to the paints, or to the canvas, but to the Artist, Himself, who wielded them! The word of the Gryphon is that masterpiece. And the Great Gryphon breathed into those words His breath of lives, making them eternally alive in a way that we as mortals cannot comprehend:
Dividing the joints and marrow,
Separating what we know
From what we feel:
It cuts away every place we hide,
Our true self to reveal:
It is alive and it is active;
Sharper than any
Two-edged sword,
Piercing even the soul and spirit:
It is the Gryphon's
Ever-living Word. *9
"And what if it gets deformed by mistranslation or faulty memory? We diligently guard against that with all of our strength. But what if it does? The breath of the Gryphon still courses through it and it remains alive! Even though its corruption and our weakness it still can speak! The Gryphon would have it no other way. His Song is alive and carries life even if those wonderful words are translations of translations. I know this is true, for I have heard the Gryphon speak through those words! And the Life they contain has filled my life to overflowing! I have seen its proof in the transformed lives of hundreds of broken men and women, made whole and strong by the strength of words alone!"
Nathan paused and then looked suddenly embarrassed. Lowering his eyes he shrugged, saying in a much more subdued voice, "Guess I got a little carried away there. I didn't mean to preach. You can tell that this is something that means a lot to me. In the center of every tree is the heartwood which is its strength and life: the word of the Gryphon is that heart in me! Jason, son, it is a part of every man's struggle to come to terms with Truth. Truth can only be possessed if it is bought and paid for with answered questions!"
"Master Nathan," said the boy at length, and there was a new sound of respect in his voice, for the bard's answers had been masterful and moving, "How did you become a bard, a standard-bearer for the Gryphon?"
Nathan visibly brightened at this question and responded immediately,
"You might say I was born to it twice."
Uh oh, thought the youth, now he's going to start talking in riddles again! He and my GrandSire must have had a good time together.
But Nathan had no interest in hiding this story. Instead, he forthrightly said, "My father was a bard, well-traveled and well renown. At one time he was the toast of the River Valley and his singing brought him wealth and popularity. But the riches his golden voice brought him, also bought him the opportunity to experience the extremes that the River can offer. During that time he stayed away from Mom and me for days at a time. It had to be expected, we thought, that’s the price for being a popular bard.
"Then one day, we were sent urgent word to come right away; Dad had been sippin' straight River water and lost his balance and fallen from one of the pleasure docks into the deepest part of the Stream. If not for a passing Swimmer, who dove in to rescue him, he never would have made it to shore. As it was, the hard stuff severely burned him from his head to his feet. He was just barely alive."
"That's horrible!" shouted Jason, and his outpouring of empathy was real, for the picture of his own parents drowning flashed clearly into his mind once more. "At least that Swimmer was able to rescue him," he said with a little bitterness, thinking about another Swimmer who hadn't bothered to rescue anyone.
As though Nathan could read the boy's deep sorrow, he shed a tear, and Jason's heart captured and treasured that liquid jewel of shared emotion.
"Well, the Swimmer that had rescued him," continued the bard, "stayed with my father throughout his recovery. He brought my father, and us as well, the first fresh water that we had ever tasted. The Gryphon's dew aided my father back to health, though he remained horribly scarred. Then Father made a change that affected all of us in my family. He first gave to the Gryphon all of his scars, then he invited the Gryphon to breathe on him.
"His scars didn't go away, but they took on new meaning. Dad said that they were given to him by the Gryphon to help him remember how the Gryphon's Son had also been scarred in the Stream to rescue us all. After that Dad's scars didn't look so ugly anymore, for his f
ace had changed under the scars. We all saw this new beauty in my father. We saw other changes as well. He didn't leave us for long trips anymore, even though he continued to sing. The way he treated Mom and me became his greatest change. He began singing to Mom, not just for her. And most of all, he started teaching me. He taught me how to sing. Our new Dad, reborn from the River, was better than our old Dad had ever been.
"Not long after that I also started seeking the New Song he had in his heart. Soon I found it—or it found me—and I began singing it, too. So you see, I have music in my heritage two times. Once from the loins of the golden-voiced father who died in the River. And once again from the heart of the scarred father, whose song of joy found a place to be born in my own heart."
Jason had been intently listening to his teacher's story as they walked along. Much of it confused him for many of the concepts were brand new. You became a Swimmer by accepting the Gryphon's Song? What about those people who couldn't carry a tune, like Kaleb?
To fill the protracted silence, Jason decided to ask another question. At least, he thought, if Nathan is talking about himself, I won't have to feel like I'm on the spot. It's almost like this man wants me to do something, but I don't know what and I'm not sure I want to find out.
So he asked his teacher, "Have you always sung for the Gryphon?"
Nathan took a long moment to answer and it appeared to Jason that he was having a deeply troubling conflict within his soul. Dark shadows seemed to gather momentarily on the singer's face only to dissipate rapidly when the sunshine of a decision melted them away. Deliberately and slowly, the bard proceeded, "Have I always sung for him? No, sadly I must say that I have not. In my younger years, I sang for all I was worth to please the Gryphon. I invested my life in learning His Song so I could sing it for others. But then, about ten years ago, something very tragic happened to me. As a result, I gave up singing for a long time.
The Dragon's Back Trilogy Page 17