The Dragon's Back Trilogy

by Robert Dennis Wilson

  "About seven years ago, your GrandSire sought me out. Still wet from his First Swim, he came to offer me a shoulder to lean on. His loving wisdom showed me that I was beginning to journey down the road my 'first father' had walked. He warned me, in that all but intelligible Heartland brogue of his, that I, too, would be scarred if I played in the River. And, bless him, he broke through my darkness and helped me lay down my thorns. Because of him, I again took up the standard of the Gryphon and raised my voice once more to sing His Songs."

  Many things were suddenly made clear to Jason. He knew Nathan wasn't telling him everything, but what he had explained a lot. "Is that why," he asked, "my GrandSire left me with you because you were indebted to him?"

  "No, son, I could never repay that debt. I wanted to train you for many reasons. But as far as your GrandSire goes, he became like a father to me (for mine had recently died) and I became a substitute son to him. Suffice it to say that I look at myself as a replacement for your father who cannot be with you at this time."

  Jason, touched by what he heard, still felt inclined to ask what Nathan had meant by "at this time." Is he expecting my Dad to climb up out of the bottomless sea after all these years? Jason wondered to himself.

  But before he could ask a thing, Nathan pulled out his lute and began tuning it. Jason knew from his limited experience that the bard expected him to walk quietly and try to memorize his master's words and melodies when he sang.

  "Son," said the bard as if emphasizing the word and saying it in that new way for the first time, "When the Gryphon works in your life (and He will), He will bring songs to you and out from you that are uniquely your own. These are not the same thing as the Word of the Gryphon; however, they bear much weight in the hearts of men. That kind of song works for the Gryphon in the same way that an interpreter does for a Pascan priest: the priests don't speak out loud, so if they need to communicate a complicated message, they use a skilled interpreter who can read their swordsign and translate them to the people. We become like an interpreter for the Gryphon when our lives write songs back to Him. It’s like the ‘Morning Song’ you wrote for your GrandSire!"

  The concepts were still somewhat beyond his grasp, but Jason thought he was beginning to understand what his teacher was trying to tell him. In silence, he nodded his assent.

  "At the time your GrandSire found me," he continued, as though fully confident in the abilities of his student, "my spirit had been darkened by great pain. I stood, surrounded by darkness and could offer no light. The spark that your GrandSire reintroduced into my life became this song."

  And the song that Nathan sang was sad and lonely, tears transcribed into notes and words; stains etched on a breaking heart. Until, finally, the minor key found sweet resolution and joy tumbled freely from the strings when triumph found voice in a Song.

  IN DARKNESS DARK

  Lord, still I wind the wandering way

  And plumb the depths of vales below

  Who once was taught to climb the heights

  And made Your sun-lit peaks to know.

  But in this place the sun's bright ray

  Is shadowed lest, in showing clear,

  The night that fills these murky deeps

  Be known to those imprisoned here.

  And so I stand in darkness dark

  When those around don't know of light

  And are content to stumble on,

  Blinded by the constant night.

  Hidden here as now I am,

  I have helped the darkness be darker still;

  By refusing to act, to speak, to shine,

  I embrace the darkness by my will.

  I see at last that this is wrong:

  By allowing Your Guiding Light to fade

  I planted the seeds that grew to trees

  That spread their branches to make this shade.

  By standing here in darkness dark

  I've held in darkened hands Your Light,

  By lack of action shutting off

  Every beam from mortal sight.

  But now I see me as I am,

  In darkness darkened by the night;

  I, who once walked Your sunlit trail,

  Seek once more to see Your Light...

  Illumination comes within

  As I realize Your Light's not gone

  But only waiting for the chance

  To find within my life its Dawn.

  I do not need to climb the peaks

  To let Your Light once more be bright

  If I but let You shine through me

  Then I will be in darkness Light.

  And so I shine, reflecting You,

  Who's glory filled my darkest night,

  So all may see when seeing me,

  When darkness falls, You are my Light!

  THE RIVER

  Mounting the wind-blown crest of the trail a couple of days later, both teacher and student paused as the barren mountain pass suddenly opened onto the lush contrast of the Central Valley. Below them, the River twisted its serpentine course through field and tree; a twisting necklace of sun-sparkled jewels, blue, green, and brown, set on a field of verdant green.

  The arch of an oxbow bend lay only a short walk down the rugged slope. Scattered houses, mud-brick with brown-green thatched roofs, dotted the fringes of the Valley, safe on the slopes from the wandering course of the Mainland's lifeblood.

  "Going down sure is easier than climbing up," Jason commented to his mentor as they started their descent, recalling a comment that Joannah, Lot's wife, had made a couple of weeks before.

  Nathan's strangely sad reply puzzled the boy, "It always is, son. It always is."

  Jason would have asked its meaning, but his teacher chose that moment to begin a lesson. "Consider the River below us. It flows through the heart of this land from North to South, from the Headlands to the Hinterlands, giving life to all it touches. Yet some say it’s polluted, others swear it is poison-filled."

  The boy had heard rumors of this before but had been afraid to ask questions, lest he seem ignorant to his peers. Now he was under no such constraint. Quickly he grabbed the opportunity, asking, "How can that which gives life, also carry death?"

  "It has been that way since the Falls. Learn the words from the Song of the City:

  'Everyone drinks from the Stream,

  Even he who abstains:

  You each are drunk with its wine,

  For its venom flows in your veins.

  You drink and yet you still thirst,

  Your throats always are dry;

  The more that you drink to sustain your life,

  The more it will cause you to die.'" *10

  Again Jason struggled with the concepts. "Everyone has to drink, don't they? You are confusing me even more. You quote the Word of the Gryphon that says the water is bad, but, according to the stories, wasn't the Gryphon the one that sent us here to this place? Why, if He's good, would He give us poison to drink?"

  Nathan smiled kindly at the boy and shook his head slowly from side to side, “All those questions. Almost you remind me of myself when I was younger.” The teacher paused and, for a moment, his eyes took on a faraway look. Jason had seen that look in adults before so resigned himself to an impatient silence while he waited for the adult to return.

  At last Nathan shook his head sadly. He focused deliberately on the boy's eyes before continuing, "Jason, son, you are mistaken in your thoughts. Though the Gryphon sent us to this land, it was our choice that brought us here. He does not wish us to drink of the River, that's why He warned us of its nature."

  "But what are we supposed to drink? My GrandSire told me to search for the pure water but I thought he was trying to teach me a lesson or something. Did he mean that there really is pure water? If so, where do we find it?" He stopped, captivated by a sudden thought.

  Jason lifted up his GrandSire's adoption waterskin and continued, "Is that what's in this skin? Did I drink some pure water? Is that why it tasted so sweet but
still makes me hurt on the inside? Where do you find pure water on Dragonsback?"

  In reply, the bard again started strumming his lute again. "Listen to the part of the song called the 'Psalm of the Morning' and find your own answer from its rhyme:

  The Gryphon's breath is blowing,

  In the dawning find the proof:

  For out of the womb of the morning

  Thou hast the dew of thy youth.

  And if thou hast a vessel

  All emptied of its will,

  Then on the mountains lift it up

  And thou shalt find thy fill." *11

  As the short song closed the youth was suddenly struck with a thought. "Is that where you go every morning? Is that why you take both spare bags to fill them with, with dew?"

  "The mercies of the Gryphon are new every morning," replied Nathan, but his mysterious words only generated more questions in Jason's mind.

  But all of those unanswered mysteries were instantly forgotten as both apprentice and master were distracted by the sudden loud sobs of a woman from nearby. They had reached the tree-lined bank of the River while they talked.

  In a crumpled heap at their feet lay the grieving form of an elderly woman, the snow-white tangle of her hair marking her age. Jason saw that she wore the gray, unbound robe of a destitute woman. A widow.

  Nathan laid aside his lute and knelt beside her. "What is it, mother?" he said softly, using the familiar title out of respect. "Why do you weep?"

  Finding herself in the presence of strangers, the woman strove to gather together the rags of her dignity but failed, for despair had shredded that fragile robe. Between her sobs, she lamented, "Call me not 'mother', for this day has bereft me of my only son. His father, these many years gone, is dust to give me more. Alone! Alone, I've no more life or will to give. The River that gives and takes all life soon shall receive again."

  Realizing the woman's son must have been overcome by the River, Jason quickly asked, "Where has your son fallen? Perhaps it's not too late! We will rescue him!"

  She saw Jason then for the first time, and through some great effort managed to offer a smile on the altar of his youthful exuberance. But the sacrifice ended too soon as the breath of her heavy sigh and the moisture of her tears quenched its tentative flame.

  "How much like him you are. So much like you, he was." She reached up with a frail, shaking hand and jostled the boy's dark hair.

  "Son," the old woman continued, "It's too late. It's been too late for a long time! I know why it happened. Listen to my tears, young man! Don't let them flow in vain. I taught him as he grew! I told him the deeper water's only for adults. I always brought him to the roped section set up by the priests, so he wouldn't go out too far!

  "But yonder schoolhouse offered him protection from the Stream. Each student was issued hip-boot waders. Hip-boot waders! As though those flimsy contraptions could hold a child up in deep water! Well, my Jonny had to experiment. I guess he thought, he had the boots, so why not use them. Children were never meant to taste the water beyond the ropes!"

  Anger and frustration washed over her like a storm. Closing tear-filled eyes and clenching withered fists to her forehead, the tiny woman shook as she groaned the roar of a wounded beast. Her wail of pain and despair echoed off of the nearest of the River Valley mountains. Jason knelt and wrapped his arms around her, not knowing how else to offer comfort. His own recent grief extorted tears from his eyes and robbed words from his tongue.

  She looked up into his eyes, "I saw him die! These eyes that watched him born, saw him slowly sink beneath the Stream. Poisoned by the stronger waters, he never had a chance! He struggled and fought but no one heard our cries. No one came to save." Unable to continue, for a long moment she wept silently, clinging to the boy who offered his only gift.

  "Master Bard," sobbed the broken woman, at last raising her head, "Will you grant this childless widow one last request?"

  "What is it, mother?" Nathan asked her softly, a tear gracing his rugged, manly face. With a sun-darkened hand, he gently reached to touch her wrinkled cheek. "What can I do to ease your pain?"

  The woman grasped the offered hand and, squeezing it with surprising strength, looked up into the singer's face. "Sing for me a sad song. Sing it for my son and his wasted life. Sing 'The Dirge of the Dark Waters.'" Having spoken her request, the woman released his hand and bowed her head toward the ground, waiting.

  Nathan could do no other, but reaching his lute from the ground, he stood and took the formal pose of a bard. Deftly his fingers found their marks, slowly the notes fell deep and mournful. As his base voice clearly rendered the sad, sad song of death, the world paused to listen. That song was long beyond knowing, though Jason tried, captivated by the beauty of its eloquent sadness. Yet, when it was over, only the words of the chorus echoed in the youth's mind.

  "Dark waters can run swiftly,

  Still water can run deep:

  Who falls into the River's grasp,

  Will sleep the River's sleep;

  To float the fitful currents

  Leading to eternity:

  The River carries all it holds

  Eventually to the Sea."

  The elderly woman stood then, brushing off the child-offered embrace. Resolutely she turned toward the River and held her chin high. "Thank you, kind sirs," she said, not looking at them, "for bringing comfort to my last moments. I will now walk out into the water till I can go no further, then I will drink my fill and join my son. It is my right to do so. Please do not try to stop me." She took a step toward the bank.

  Horrified, Jason rushed around her before she could take another step, blocking her path. He had to do something, but what? He looked into her eyes and his horror grew, it looked to as though their light had gone out. He recognized that empty shadow as the harbinger of a death far worse than he had witnessed when his GrandSire had left him.

  The water! GrandSire's skin of adoption! What had he said?

  "'When the shadows of Darkness rise,

  Unto salvation 'twill make you wise,

  'Twill bring new light to darkened eyes.'" *12

  "Dear lady," he pleaded with her, "Mother, will you drink of my water first? A tiny sip is all I ask. Please try it once... for me!"

  The old woman paused, considered his request, and then spoke, but even though she stood so close, her words sounded distant, as though spoken through a thick veil. "Because you look so like my son," she said in a voice that quivered in its hopelessness, "I will listen just this once. A delay will be no more fatal than the process I've begun. Jonny will wait one moment more for me. Yes, I will return your kindness by doing what you ask."

  Trembling with mixed excitement and fear, young Jason carefully lifted his GrandSire's waterskin and poured several swallows into the golden seashell bowl. The woman, as though in a trance, took the bowl in both hands and, without pausing, raised it to her lips and drank. One sip, as she had promised.

  Jason, filled with tortured thoughts, wondered, What can the water do? Did she take enough? She mustn't throw herself into the River. What else can I do to stop her?

  The woman just stood there on the bank of the River, golden shell still cupped in her upraised hands. Jason had not, nor would not move to let her pass.

  But then he noticed. Her eyes were no longer focused on distant nothingness, instead, they seemed to be watching something framed inside the remaining liquid of the shellbowl. Slowly those ancient eyes filled with tears.

  Then the woman spoke and her voice carried in it the dawning sunrise of one waking to find that the terror of the night had been after all only a dream. "I remember!" she said as the light of a true smile transformed her haggard features, then raising the golden shell, she quickly drained its remaining contents.

  She looked now directly, purposively into Jason's eyes and continued, "It’s been so long, but I remember, now!" Her left hand reached out to briefly touch the young man's cheek while she offered back the bowl with the other.
That new-found smile never left her face.

  Jason was confused. What had happened to her? Had the water done this? What was going on? He wanted to shout his questions but held his peace.

  She must have seen his perplexity, for a girlish laugh escaped from her lips as she said, "Don't you know what you have done or why I've changed my mind? I had forgotten so much for I've lived in the River Valley for so long! You, however, offered me the pure water and I felt the Gryphon's breath. Suddenly I remembered meeting Him in my youth and have now remembered all of His promises. All is not lost for, even after all these years, even with such sorrow in my life, I still have the Gryphon's love. And He's a big Gryphon with an immense heart! Thank you, child, for your priceless gift."

  She then gave Jason a gift, eloquent in its simplicity, yet in its way also priceless, to an orphan. A mother's hug.

  Two thoughts crowded into this treasured moment: in spite of his confusion, in spite of the tears in his eyes, he saw that this woman no longer intended to throw herself into the River. He also noticed that now that sadness no longer etched its harsh lines across her face, the woman looked much younger, even pretty.

  At last, she broke off her embrace. Smiling at Jason she said to him, "Goodbye, for now, my new-found son. We will meet again someday, if only in the Gryphon's Land."

  Her words both thrilled and frightened the boy. He responded, "But I've never seen that Land and I don't know how to get there! How will I meet you there?"

  "Very soon you will find the way," she replied cryptically before turning away from Jason to address his teacher. "Thank you, Master Singer, for comforting me in my time of grief and good day to you both." With that she began lightly running up the mountain path they had just descended, her unbound robes whipped behind her like gray clouds chased by the wind. It seemed as if the burden of her years had been stripped away from her and she had been made young again.