"There is a better way! Any image springing from the infinite Sea and washed pure in the Gryphon's dew has the power to reach beyond this world and touch the Gryphon's Land; and in building a bridge, create here and now that which men would otherwise claim impossible. How do men write Gryphon’s songs that swell beyond mere notes and words to grab the hearts and minds and lives of men? How does an old man carve simple symbols on a fish tusk and create a masterpiece saber that, like a beacon, points a blazing path to the Gryphon? Where the Eagle has landed, man's small steps often become giant leaps!
"Jason, my son, choose well the images that fill you, for you might well fill your image!"
~ ~ ~
Kaleb’s world had shrunk and then infinitely expanded to a new reality he had found deep within a glowing green object held to his lips. Still groggy, the heady and potent excitement supplied to him by the undried VR moss-filled him to overflowing, like the course of the River fills its banks. Never before had his imagined pleasures seemed so absolutely real! An all-consuming fire burned within his chest and he could only think about feeding it more fuel! At last, in exhaustion, he fell back onto the cot, the rough, uneven fibers of the rustic cloth pressing against his back became an anchor drawing him down to another reality – the deadening reality of sleep.
Suddenly shaken awake, Kaleb opened his befuddled eyes to find his vision filled with the cause of his earthquake – the human mountain named Raven. "Wow!" exclaimed Kaleb, for even through his self-imposed stupor, he recognized and tried to confide in his friend, "that was unbelievable! It was so real!"
But Raven did not seem in an appreciative mood. "Yes, we know," he said tersely, then forcefully yanked the reclining youth into a sitting position. "Kaleb, listen to me! You've got to come out of it, now!"
The driving force of those words, hurled at his face from extremely close range, chased the lingering fog from his mind. As those last mental wisps dissipated, Kaleb found himself staring into twin caves, black as night, infinitely deep and cold as the depths of the Sea. Vision cleared once more and in refocusing, the endless caves resolved into two dark eyes, set in the massive, worried face of his friend, less than a handbreadth from his own.
Instantly alert, Kaleb queried, "What is it, Raven? What is wrong?"
The dragonman laughed, giving his protégé room to rise, "Nothing is wrong!" he shouted and slapped the youth on the back hard enough to send him reeling. "Now that you are conscious, everything is fine, but you need to prepare yourself at once! Your name has been called! You must appear before the Inner Circle! The Lady, Herself, wants to see you! What an honor she bestows!"
A thrill of excitement coursed through him. This is it, he thought. My chance to be accepted; to be part of something bigger than myself! Belong!
The giant gave him the formal gray robe of an initiate to wear in the ceremony and quickly reviewed with him one last time the basic doctrines of the Society of Dragons. Those who followed this way were called dragonmen, not because they looked like dragons, but because they sought to discover and use the powers of those dragons. And yes, from all that he had learned, Kaleb was beginning to realize that dragons were not as mythical or powerless as he had once believed. But he found that he welcomed this new knowledge with the burning fire of an excited passion, for he knew that with the promise of greater power also came a greater ability to exact revenge!
THOUGH HE WERE
THE SON
(Part 2)
IV.
Though He were the Gryphon's Son,
He had to learn to swim:
He overcame the crashing waves
So we'd grow strong in Him.
He took on Him the ‘skin of man,
That He might swim the sea
And pass beyond the circling clouds:
He drowned to set us free.
He brought to naught the Dragon's chains
That drug us down in fear.
No more need drown: He built a bridge!
So we could all draw near.
V.
Passing through polluted waters,
They did not poison Him:
He who drowned beneath the River's source,
Helps those who cannot swim.
But harden not your hearts,
Lest you all find watery graves:
For a faithless heart is heavy
And will sink beneath the waves.
Filled with the hardness of unbelief,
Your fathers failed this test,
If on the waters you would swim,
You first must learn to rest.
With boldness, therefore, learn to swim,
And fearless, face the waves:
For He who swam the ocean wide,
Ever lives and ever saves. *20
INTO THE FLOOD
"You have done well, Jason. Exposing, naming, and claiming the thorns you carry is never an easy process."
"But I feel so bad," he replied, holding back the unmanly tears of pain that threatened to expose him even further. "I see the thorns before me on the ground, yet it feels like they are still cutting into my flesh. Even though I know now I never needed to carry the biggest one, still, it keeps on hurting me."
"What you say is true," replied the bard looking past his student's shoulders. The wounds on your back have been freshly opened by the action you have taken. Only a man who is desperate for relief would allow himself to experience the torture of this process. I honor your openness and courage. The Gryphon Himself will reward you."
But at that moment, they both heard a distant commotion coming from the direction of the River.
Someone will see me! Jason thought in embarrassed panic, moving quickly to cover the contents of his exposed pack.
But Nathan reached out his hand to stay the actions of his young student, saying in a calming voice, "No need to hide, son. Those people are not looking for you. They are involved in important business of their own and would not be interested in us even if they knew we were here."
Jason instantly recognized the truth in the bard's statement. From their vantage point on the raised meadow, they could look down virtually unobserved by those below. He heaved a big sigh that visibly moved his shoulders, bringing some much-needed relief to the tension he felt. Still, the thought of turning back to the task at hand filled him with loathing trepidation.
As though he too sensed Jason's hesitance, Nathan asked him a question, "Do you know what those people are doing down there?"
Nathan, you're amazing, thought Jason with an inward smile. You take everything life throws at us, even an interruption, and turn it into an excuse for teaching!
The youth did recognize the ceremony being enacted: the brightly colored clothes of the celebrants below him readily marked the occasion. "They are practicing the Law of Original Swim," he replied, glad to be able to answer correctly. "It is practiced everywhere. Even on the islands, they bring the babies to the thornhouse to dip 'em."
"Do you know why we practice this Law and who established it?" Nathan's uncharacteristically serious response placed a strong emphasis on the "why" and "who".
Jason thought for a moment before replying, "I suppose that the Gryphon set up the law, for it is a very old one; but why He would want babies dipped in the River, I couldn't possibly guess."
"The water in the thornhouse pools is imported," came the reply. "It is also from the River. That liquid is not only the sustainer of all of the ceremonial thorntrees; it defines our life here, just like the River does everywhere else on Dragonsback."
Jason wanted to ask what sort of definition a River could give, but his teacher continued.
"We are a race that lives in rebellion to our First Cause. That First Cause was, in a sense, a Living River of pure water. We call him the Gryphon. When our first parents chose to rebel against the command of the Gryphon, who made them, and follow the way of the Dragon, they cut themselves off from that Living Water. When He then sent our parents to Dragonsback, they
carried the poison of impure water with them. That poison-filled their waterskins, their family heritage. It has been that way ever since."
Something that Nathan had said puzzled Jason so much, that he interjected a question. "But," he asked, "doesn't dipping babies in the water of the River poison them even more?"
"No, I'm afraid not," and the bard seemed saddened by the reply he made. "The poison is already there in those babes before they ever get wet. Dipping them into the pollution of the River is only an outward sign of an already present inward reality."
"But," asked Jason, again questioning the system he was forced to live under, "Don't the parents fill their child's waterskin from the River at this time? If the River is actually poison, as you say, why not fill those skins with some of the Gryphon’s pure water? At least, if they did that, the child wouldn't be forced to keep drinking the River!"
Jason noticed that Nathan's response carried in it a tone of confident authority, "The Gryphon's Son told us, 'You can't put new wine into old skins.' *21 Most people on Dragonsback don't think the River is poisonous at all. They say, 'It's all in how you use it.' So, in their minds, they are doing nothing wrong either in submerging their newborn for an instant or in filling those ‘skins that way. Besides, it is the Gryphon's Law that they do so. They have no control over it. If they filled the waterskin with River water, dew, or the salt of the ocean, it would still turn to poison in the end. That is the nature of the 'skin of our heritage. Just as it is our nature to be thirsty for the water that it contains."
"But why is it that once the waterskin is filled on the day of their birth it never has to be filled again. I know that this is true, but I certainly don't understand how such a thing can be."
"You looked from the heights of Dragonshead out over all the land. What did you notice about the nature of the River? Describe to me its properties."
"It started out beneath the Falls, fairly narrow at first, but grew in width as it spread out in the distance. I suppose that it gets shallower the farther downstream that it goes."
"You are right, that is what it appears to do, but that is not what it actually does. It gets deeper and expands in volume to fill any space that tries to contain it. The nature of the River is one of the great mysteries of Dragonsback. A single drop of its venom will eventually fill an empty bucket.
"That is why I never have to fill my own waterskin? Why can't we just throw them away?"
"A man cannot deny the color of his own skin: black, brown, yellow, red, or pink. That which he was born to remains. Even when the River burns a man beyond recognition, the color of his skin will surface. Our waterskins are the same: we cannot deny our heritage. The Gryphon has decreed that we must carry them with us till we swim the River or walk the Bridge. In the end, a man is judged by the size of the 'skin he carries. Those who drink deeply, cause their 'skins to grow to meet their appetites. Some even force stronger water into its mouth to quench greater and greater thirsts."
"What about the skins of adoption that you Swimmers carry? Are they polluted, too? Why do you have to keep filling them up? Won't they fill themselves just like River bags do?"
"The Gryphon has also ordained, as part of our training and growth, that we must renew the contents of our adoptive skins every morning: the dew will quickly sour if it is contained for too long and not used. But this is not the fault of the bag of adoption, for the dew of the morning purifies almost everything it touches. That is why plants can grow on the Dragon’s harsh and polluted soil: if not for the Gryphon's gift of dew, all of our world would be desolate, a barren rock in the midst of an eternal ocean.
"And, no, the skins of adoption will not fill themselves, but here is another mystery. A son (or daughter) of the Gryphon's Son is free from his dependency on the Dragon's brew. When the Gryphon breathes upon someone, all the old chains are broken. A Swimmer from then on can choose his water source. If he keeps his 'skin of adoption filled up and uses it alone to quench his thirsts, then he never needs to taste the poison again. But the poison is addictive and many Swimmers never drink enough dew to realize that it can satisfy all their thirst. In ignorance they willingly allow the dragons to feed them, and then wonder why they cannot roar the Gryphon's roar."
"But, why then does drinking the pure water make me feel sick? Is it poisonous to me?"
"No, to tell the truth, you are poisonous to it. You have never felt the Gryphon's breath, so though the Gryphon's water can give you clarity, it cannot give you life!"
"Then tell me how to find this life! I am filled with poison and don't know where else to turn for a cure. My thorns, my pack, and my waterskin lie here open and exposed before me. You have told me, and I know it's true, that they and I are overflowing with the Dragon's poison. What do I need to do?"
But in response, Nathan the master bard held up his hand in a stopping motion and shook his head in negation before answering. "The Pasca priests try to build boats and also to distill the Stream. The Heartlanders try to build a one-sided tower bridge reaching out into nothingness. The Hinterland fanatics empty their 'skins every day and try to live without water. Many people feel that if they can walk across the River without falling down, their future is guaranteed. Rubbish! All these are things that people 'do' to try to reach the Gryphon's Land. In the end, all of them fail. The gap is too great. The poison too strong. The answer, the cure, is found not in what we can 'do', but in what He, the Gryphon's Son, has already done!
"Listen to the Song of the Prophet, written ages ago so that we would know the cost that would be required! In truth, you cannot possibly pay the price of your cure! All the jewels in the world could not buy the potion. But One has paid it for you already! Listen and find in these words your cure!"
And Nathan's voice rose in might and majesty, in a song that called down the eagles for its splendor. He sang as Jason had never heard him sing before, and beneath their feet, the Dragon moved and quaked with fear. And tears of power and joy washed down that manly, bearded face, anointing that song with a living benediction of grace. Jason saw and heard and knew that this, above all else, was Truth.
"All we like grass are blown in the wind,
'Gainst the gale we can't stand though we try,
Yet the Gryphon had mercy and sent down His Son:
In our place, He was sentenced to die.
Yet, who has believed in our message?
Who has heard the Gryphon's great roar?
The Gryphon' whelp was rejected by all,
Like a reed cast far from the shore.
For our faults, He was placed in the River,
The weight of our Stream held Him down.
Yet it pleased the Gryphon to bruise Him,
In the River to allow Him to drown.
In exchange for our thorns and our poisons,
Condemned, in our place, He did stand,
Impaled on the horns of the Dragon:
But it was as the Gryphon had planned.
For He saw His travail and His suffering
And agreed to accept what was done,
Receiving the eternal transaction
That was made at the cost of His Son.
And after the Son makes His offering,
The Gryphon will give life back to Him:
He will breathe Gryphonsbreath
through the nose of His Son,
And through the waters
will cause Him to swim.” *23
"The Gryphon's breath! The Gryphon's breath! I feel its warmth on my heart! It was for me! It was for me that He carried the thorns! And those thorns… they were my thorns! I accept Him instead because He died in my place. I know and believe that He and He alone is my cure!" cried Jason as the tears flooded outward from the depths of his soul.
But suddenly Nathan sprang to his feet, dropping his precious instrument and drawing his narwhale sword. "Quickly, Jason!" he shouted. "Get behind me! The dragons from your thorns have awakened and are after our blood!"
Frightened beyo
nd knowing, Jason rushed to comply, then stopped in his tracks. "I see them! I see them in the air above me!"
Black and dark as night in a cave, cold and hard as ice in the north, the great winged creatures filled the air above them, swooping down to attack.
Four! Five! Six of them! Razor talons extended to tear at their hearts, they fell from the sky like rocks. But Jason's sudden fear had vanished. The breath of the Gryphon now filled him and, no longer a frightened child, he rose boldly and forcefully to face his foes!
In new-found confidence, Jason swiftly drew his GrandSire's sword from his side and stood poised to defend himself. "Son of the Gryphon!" He screamed into the darkening sky. "I no longer lay claim to these thorns, but freely give them to You! I am now Yours body and soul! Defend me and bind these, Your enemies!"
Then, without ever knowing why he did so, Jason stooped quickly, grabbed his GrandSire's skin of adoption with his empty hand, pulled out the stopper with his mouth, and poured its contents over the exposed pile of thorns on the ground.
Instantly, as the dew of the morning touched them, they burst into brilliant flame! The column of their smoke rose to meet the plummeting dragons.
Blinded by the sudden flash, the dark creatures attempted to break their downward flight. Too late, they could not stop! Their momentum carried them into that pillar of smoke, and the smoke became to them a dangerous solid thing!
Jason and Nathan both heard their screams of denial and pain as the smoke struck and enveloped each of them in turn. Its swirling plumes seemed to transform into binding chains of brilliant white that grew and spread until they ensnared the whole brood of dragons in a crushing, burning embrace of blinding brightness!
Then, for the briefest moment, the ground and very air seemed to reverberate with the ferocious sound of a triumphal roar more mighty than all the waves in the Sea. If allowed to continue, that sound would have crushed the very Mainland on which they stood. But, as if a door had closed, it cut off in mid-voice.
The Dragon's Back Trilogy Page 24