The Dragon's Back Trilogy

by Robert Dennis Wilson

  The smallest hook, once it is cast,

  Will rule the mighty fish at last;

  A tree may grow ten thousand days,

  But a tiny spark will make it blaze:

  In that same way, even the smallest thorn

  Is the ruler of every man that's born.

  For every thorn's a tongue of flame

  And that evil tongue can no one tame,

  For the smallest thorn is poison-filled;

  Yet with it you've both blessed and killed.

  Who claims among you to be wise?

  Then let his life show Truth, not lies!

  If bitterness and thorn-strife in you abound,

  Then you are living on Dragon's ground! *19

  THE SOCIETY

  “I can't believe that we’re actually underground now? Inside the Dragon in a cave in the mountains? That’s incredible!” Kaleb directed his excitement toward the barely discernible bulk of his large friend as they walked rapidly through the blackness. Raven, two steps in front of him, confidently and silently negotiated the darkness as though he had been here countless times before.

  Two nights after walking out, unchallenged, from the Scholl of Arden Nox, Kaleb had followed his friend across a starlit plain into a place where the stars had never shown their light. They had made the trip from the River to the Eastern Mountains of Dragonsback with virtually no stops. The giant seemed tireless and Kaleb, free at last from the confines of his second prison, found himself filled with an exuberant boundless energy that needed no rest.

  Kaleb felt an indescribable excitement flowing through his veins. The thrill of defying those who had imprisoned him; the heart-quickening anticipation of moving into the unknown: these he understood, but something else drove him into dizzyingly higher and higher emotional heights. A wisp of a childhood memory told him he had been here, or someplace very much like this, long, long ago. Was this the place he remembered? Is this the place where someone had touched a tiny infant filling him with strange joys and unquenchable longings?

  At last, Raven slowed his pace. Kaleb could sense from the echoed sounds around him and the increased flow of warm air brushing his face, that they were leaving the narrow tunnel behind and moving into a much wider area. He moved up to walk next to his companion.

  “Kaleb,” said the giant and the sudden boom of his deep bass voice startled his unsuspecting companion, “we are about to enter into a secret underground community. This small city is one of several hidden deep within the Dragon. This particular city is called ‘Subverzia’ and is the capital of the hidden kingdom of the dragonmen. It is an ancient and prosperous city where you will find whole groups of people who work, live, love, give birth, and even die without ever leaving the safety and darkness of this their home. Like the proverbial ant, we are well organized and industrious. Like ants, we also have explorers and soldiers that work in the outer world.”

  “You said ‘we are well organized,’” observed Kaleb. “I take it then from that, that you are one of those soldier-explorers and that this is your home.”

  “We,” said the huge blackrobe, emphasizing the tiny word as if to answer the question, “are called ‘the Society of Dragonmen’. Those who live here full time (‘Getting to our roots’ they call it) never venture out on the surface for the constant sunlight above ground bothers them.”

  “What kind of work can be done underground?” asked the young man.

  “You will be surprised,” commented the dragonman with a hearty laugh, “when you learn all we are able to accomplish from here (even being able to influence the outcome of the four-year games at the head of the River). As far as other things? We have many exports that affect the lives of many throughout Outside Dragonsback. Are you familiar with the use of moss as a moldable imagemaker or dreammaker?”

  “Of course,” responded Kaleb and, not wanting to hide anything from his friend, added, “I own a piece myself and so does my brother, I think. It’s the only thing that helped me get through being in the Orphanage and attending that school. I would use it to fashion an image I wanted to experience, wet it with water from my 'skin, then when I tasted it, it almost seemed like I was living that experience!”

  “Well, my friend, have you ever stopped to wonder where those dreammakers come from?” asked Raven and Kaleb could almost hear a twinkle in his voice.

  Ahead of them, the widening tunnel took on a splotchy, pale-green glow as though someone had splashed some kind of magical light-giving paint against the rough stone walls.

  With his attention less than half on this new wonder, Kaleb answered, “Not really. I just always had my piece of it as long as I could remember. I assumed that it just grew wild somewhere… Wait, are you telling me that imagemaker moss comes from down here?”

  Instead of answering directly, Raven instructed him, “Reach out and grab a piece of that green glowing stuff off of the wall. Look at it closely and tell me what you see.”

  Kaleb obeyed the strange request. The object under his fingers felt soft and slimy, not in the least hard or brittle. He brought it closer to his eyes. In the light of its own illumination, he made a startling discovery, “This is moss! Real live, glowing moss! And it’s down in these caves! I never would have guessed! I had no idea that it glowed like this in its natural state!”

  Raven’s hearty laugh filled the long stone tube with its rebounding echo. “Of course it glows! Moss is not only our main export crop, but it’s also the light source for all our underground cities. We dragonmen raise all the moss on Dragonsback. It is grown in the extremely fertile soil found only in our caves. We harvest it, dry it in special caverns where the dragonsbreath blows, then we ship it out dry.

  “The moss has special properties, as you know: when River water is added, it can readily be shaped and molded into images. Then when an imagemaker is tasted, the molder has an instant vision of the reality that the image represents, experiencing within his mind that which his mind conceived. Once an image is molded it can be tasted over and over again as long as it is resoaked in fresh River water, or it can be remolded or combined with another image to build something new. The choice is up to the molder. The making and tasting of images are highly addictive, though harmless (After all, what harm can there be in doing anything as long as you only do it in your mind, not in reality). From one end of Dragonsback to another, whether rich or poor, great or small, everyone eventually buys a piece of moss from us!”

  Fascinated as he was by the economy of the cities of the Society, the actual sight of one took Kaleb off guard. Rounding a gradual curve in the tunnel, Kaleb suddenly found himself out in the “open”. It seemed like this whole mountainous Dragonspine must be hollow! Even though illuminated by brightly glowing moss on its walls, he still had trouble seeing the far distant wall of the immense cavern. The expanse reached up into the “sky” so far that distant hanging points and tubes on the roof seemed to be shrouded in a heavy cloud-like mist. In his recent travels, he had walked through the dawn and experienced first hand the morning fog that watered the land above ground. The fog above him now looked thicker and more moisture-laden than even that.

  Then, looking to his left and right at the nearer walls, he saw the city. Layer upon layer of openings climbed the sides of the huge cavern, Rising to the heights, these doorways and windows peeked out from the ever-present pale green luminescent moss. A complicated system of ladders and ropes and pulleys linked one layer to another and all layers to the floor. The floor of the cavern could best be described as a valley covered with farmland. Two wide plains sloped in a gradual “V” toward a common middle where…

  “There’s a river in here! How can that be, there’s only one River in the whole of Dragonsback? But there’s a river down there!”

  Raven’s laugh had lost its echoing chorus, but still seemed as loud, “There certainly is, my young friend! There certainly is! Been there for ages, too, from what I understand. It’s an underground tributary fed directly by the Great River. Ther
e’s a branch flowing in each of our cities. Without its water, we’d never be able to grow the moss (for the moss loses its light and its power when it’s dry).”

  Although the city did not seem crowded, Kaleb saw people everywhere. Men, women, and children, clothed in a wide variety of colors, moved with organized purpose in each location he examined.

  “I thought all dragonmen wore black robes,” he commented.

  “No, they’re only for formal occasions,” answered the giant, “and when we appear to the Outsiders. Inside we can relax from that image. Blackrobe is, however, the full-time uniform of our soldiers. Here, turn into this doorway to your left and go straight ahead.”

  As Kaleb followed his friend’s instructions down a door-lined hallway cut into the stone, he suddenly realized how tired he had become. In spite of the excitement caused by his new surroundings, he now felt like an unstoppered ‘skin, ready to flop weakly wherever he sat.

  As though he could read minds, Raven escorted him through one of the doors to a small room furnished only with a cot, a low table, and a crystalline globe filled with dimly glowing moss. Kaleb noted with relish that a fruit-filled cut-scaline bowl and a small loaf of bread sat on the table. Keeping up with Raven's aggressive cross-country pace had left him famished.

  “This is a guest room,” said the giant. “Have a seat on the bed and relax. I imagine you’re tired now, so you’d better eat and then get some sleep. Just a couple of points, first, if you don’t mind?”

  “Sure, go ahead. I’m not that tired, yet,” said Kaleb with a shrug before adding, “What do you need to know?”

  “Oh, I’m not the one who needs to know something, my friend. You are. You have entered this city as an invited guest. Soon you will need to choose your future status among us. If you decide to become a member you will go through an initiation process. This will involve some schooling (none of which is anything like that boring dust you were trying to swallow a couple of days ago). This will also involve a commitment on your part. It is the same commitment your parents made.”

  From somewhere inside his robe Raven produced an official-looking document, bound into a roll with a golden ribbon. Formally, he presented it to Kaleb, saying, “This is a membership scroll. It contains the pledge of commitment that all dragonmen must make. That pledge is binding for life. It binds us to you. It binds you to us. Forever.”

  “Thank you, Raven, my friend, that you have put this kind of trust in me,” Kaleb declared with a new confidence in his voice. “You delivered me from the prison of that school and you have given my life purpose a name and direction. You have called me ‘friend’ and invited me to share in your secret world. Of course, I will take your pledge! What else is there in life for me to do?”

  Kaleb, as an orphan, has grown up starved for love, affection, and acceptance. The attention shown to him (the fact that they bothered to send someone to recruit him) affected him like a potent drug designed to assuage his hidden pain.

  “I knew we weren’t mistaken about you!” shouted the human mountain sitting next to him. “The Grand Dragon will be so glad to hear of your acceptance! I welcome you as a future brother of the Dragon!”

  Raven slapped him on the back again, as he did habitually when he got excited. Kaleb winced under the blow and stoically accepted the bad with the good. At least his pack absorbed some of his friend’s force this time.

  “Unroll the scroll,” prompted the Blackrobe, “and hold out your left hand.” From somewhere inside of his gossamer garment, he then pulled out a midnight black feather quill, which he offered to his companion.

  Extracting his sharpened scaline sword, he instructed, “Because this membership is such a serious and permanent thing, the only proper way for it to be granted is by a binding blood signature. Run your left thumb lightly over the edge of my blade, just enough to raise some blood. Then dip the quill in this red ink and sign your name to the bottom of the scroll.”

  “Exactly, just like that! Now we need to celebrate!” exclaimed the giant, as he carefully blew on the signature, then rolled up and pocketed the scroll. “And I have just the thing. It’s brand new, kinda’ like your relationship with us. As I told you before, the entire world has used our dried moss. Well, recently our research guys came up with a new way to package moss for shipping. The new packs are watertight, like a small ‘skin, so we can fill them with water and undried moss! The glowing moss imagemakers can be exported all over Dragonsback without losing any of their potency. The product is being marketed under the name ‘Vitally Resplendent’ and sales are growing like a thorntree in a bog! Anyway, I have some samples of this VR Moss, as we call it. I want you to try one! It will help lift you back up after the long ordeal you’ve been through. You’ve never seen images like those you get on fresh moss! Here, I’ll leave it with you.”

  Raven handed a fist-sized leather packet to his young friend, and rising to his feet, told him, “You’ll be safe here so feel free to experiment. I have some errands to run, but I’ll check back in on you later, all right?”

  Without waiting for a reply, the giant turned, bent forward, and disappeared through the curtained doorway, moving surprisingly fast for such a large man.

  Kaleb, alone in the heart of the Dragon, laid back wearily on his cot. Forgetting his burning hunger for food, a new hunger filled with anticipated fire had taken its place. After a moment’s rest, he opened the packet in his hand.

  ~ ~ ~

  Elsewhere, Jason, in emptying, at last, his pack, pulled out a small bit of moss, an “imagemaker," which he had been using from his childhood.

  Realizing his apprentice’s ignorance concerning its true nature, Nathan carefully explained to him the source of the moss, “Do you realize, son, that moss comes from the caves of Dragonsback? It grows in the darkness, fed by the rich black soil found only there. Most of those who tend and then gather the moss for distribution and those who use it are unaware of the true nature of that soil. Cave soil is, in reality, the visible droppings of invisible dragons, who infest those underground realms! Watered by the poison of the River, this dangerous and highly habit-forming crop is deliberately raised for profit and pleasure!”

  “Who would do such a thing and why? If moss is as addictive as you say and filled with poisons, you’d think that it would be banned!” So saying, Jason took the offending gray-green lump and deliberately tossed it aside.

  “Oh, it definitely should be,” agreed the bard, “but that will never happen. Remember, Jason, that most of the world finds nothing wrong with River water in moderation. Moss is part of the same ‘philosophical package’. ‘What could be wrong with dreams,’ they are liable to ask. And most Swimmers (the majority of whom use moss themselves) would be hard-pressed to give them any defensible answer. Who are the farmers of the moss, you ask? They are of course those who follow the Dragon.”

  “Wait a moment,” exclaimed Jason, obviously puzzled by what he had been told. “Are you trying to tell me that it’s wrong to dream, to make images of realities we’ve never seen or only hope to see?”

  “Of course not! The problem comes if the source of the image is corrupt. If you plant the seeds of a weed, you shouldn’t be surprised to see weeds produced! But, as with most things in life that the Dragon has corrupted, there is an alternative. (Actually, what I just called the ‘alternative’ is not! It came first and, like the original, is the best possible way, just as the Gryphon intended; the Dragon only offers a cheap counterfeit, an inferior substitute that can never be as good as the original!)”

  “What is this ‘original’ and how may I obtain it?”

  Nathan reached into his pack as he answered, “I have one for you right here. Like the sword you carry, this dreammaker has a source other than Dragonsback. It comes from the Sea. The fishermen gather them and freely give them away to all who ask.”

  Nathan stretched out his arm and opened his hand so Jason could see what it held. There on his palm sat a yellow-green lump not much bigger than Jas
on’s discarded piece of moss. Instead of the minute intertwined network of filaments found in moss, the new object had tiny holes poked in it from every direction.

  As Jason took the offered object, he exclaimed, “This is really light! Oh, I mean, thank you for the gift… How do I use it? I suppose River water won’t work?”

  “No,” replied the bard, “it won’t. In fact, if the ‘sponge’ (that is what the fishermen call this thing) is touched by River water or water from your family ‘skin, it will shrivel up and all but disappear. The residue it leaves behind can be quite noxious. To make this imager work, you must only wet it with the dew of the morning, either fresh from the dewcatcher plant or from your Gryphonskin. Then you can fashion images pleasing to the Gryphon!”

  Nathan’s student screwed up his face as though trying to sort out which question, out of a growing multitude, would invoke the best possible answer. Finally, he asked, “OK, that’s how I make it work, but why does it work? What makes this any different than using moss? In both cases, I’m filling my head with images that are different than my current reality.”

  The bard also paused for a moment to gather his mental resources before launching an explanation, "In spite of what the dragonmen say when they sell or give away their moss, imaging a thing in the mind can, in fact, make it real in a person's life: whether good or bad according to its source. Not all imaging is bad. We must choose the water and the vessel that carries the dream.

  "When we choose right, and the Gryphon blesses, the potential is great beyond our knowing. These dreams can be translated into actions! Those who are chosen to build from this kind of special dream, find in retrospect that the Great Eagle, sent from the Gryphon, is the actual Artist of the new image and the unseen Architect of the plan. In those cases, the human imagers were but a willing brush in the hand of a Master Painter!

  "However, those who fill their minds with dragons-moss cannot see much beyond themselves, for their images are selfish and filled to overflowing with personal gratification. In their addiction, those so trapped in the moss may well perform the Dragon's will without even knowing whom they serve.