The Dragon's Back Trilogy

by Robert Dennis Wilson

  An instant later, quicker than a blinking eye, the sky had cleared. No trace of smoke lingered in the flower-scented air. No trace of threatening shadows whirled to block the sun. No harsh sound rivaled the soft whisper of the wind through the surrounding wildflowers and grass: its only challenge came from the distant untroubled voices of the people below, celebrating on the banks of the River.

  Not a single dragon remained, save for the living land beneath their feet.

  Jason looked down. His unharmed pack lay at his feet, dry and free of all thorns!

  Awestruck, both fell to their knees in worship of the Gryphon.

  "Praise Him! for the strength He gave you to stand, but," warned Nathan in hushed reverence, "always know, His power alone caused that victory. Only the Gryphon's Son could have done what we just saw!"

  "Of all the things that have ever happened to me," whispered Jason in response, "of that am I most sure!"

  USING THORNS

  Raven led him through a series of short tunnels to another huge subterranean cavern, this one laid out for use as a great arena. They were the first to arrive so he could take his time to examine his surroundings. The setting, with some minor exceptions, had a remarkable similarity to the thornhouse he had visited on Central Isle. Close by the nearest wall, grew a thorntree of tremendous proportions. Below it marked off with a row of black scaline blocks, an artesian fountain bubbled up through a small but deep pool, to feed the twisted roots of that tree. Some distance in front of these stood a solitary chair, he supposed for the witness, which in turn faced a single pole; both had been carved in place from the native rock of the cavern. He wondered at the lack of the second pole and the missing bench for the referee, yet Raven had been unapproachably silent since they had left the sleeping chamber.

  The dark gray-brown walls of the arena were free from the brightness of the green luminescent moss—multiple flaming torches provided illumination instead. Smoke stains, like claw-tipped blackened fingers, pointed upward from those flames toward the top of the domed chamber, marking testimony on those walls, like ink on a scroll, of the countless years this room has been in use. Kaleb had already sensed the enormity of the Society, now, for the first time, he began to understand its ageless permanence.

  Fanning out beyond the commodious floor of the central staging area, row after row of benches rose up a slope in ever-expanding concentric patterns, etched in the flickering torchlight. Kaleb marveled at the size of this arena. A cavern this large could easily seat an army!

  The blackrobed giant led his charge to the center of the ring and pointed at the lone chair in its middle. "You must sit there," he said and then turned away toward the nearest wall.

  Kaleb seated himself in the rather uncomfortable stone chair, then turned to watch as Raven walked the circumference of the huge chamber, systematically extinguishing the torches.

  But as the man-made light died, Kaleb did not find himself left in total darkness as he had feared. Instead, through holes in the roof far overhead, two beams of light dissected the blackness to penetrate the blackened depths of the room. One beam created a circle of illumination on the single pole opposite his chair, about two manheights away. The other fell on Kaleb, himself.

  When Raven finally completed his task, Kaleb's world shrank to two small circles of light and the sounds of his wildly beating heart.

  After what seemed like an eternity, Kaleb heard the sounds of people moving in the darkness beyond his sight. The hushed rustling of long robes, the shuffling of sandaled feet on stone, the muffled disembodied coughs: all these indicated to the nervous youth that many people were entering the cavern and filling the unseen seats. Try as he might, Kaleb could see nothing except himself and one tall pole rough-carved from cold gray scaline stone.

  Then, as if on cue, silence descended so completely that, over the next several moments, Kaleb could easily have imagined himself alone again.

  BOOM!

  Kaleb jumped as the sudden tremendous sound of a booming crash shattered the silence. It seemed to him as if a giant tree were being used as a battering ram against the stout wooden gates of a city. Twice more in rapid succession, the boom reverberated through the chamber.

  As the last echo faded away, a powerful male voice claimed its place, shouting, "All rise in honor of the Grand Dragon!" Kaleb heard instant compliance from the unseen audience and the brief scuffling sound of movement filled the darkened room. The initiate in gray jumped to his feet as well.

  The Woman approached Kaleb from out of the night. Taking her position between the two spots of illumination, she seemed to absorb light from both. Clearly seen by all, she dramatically raised her hands in a gesture of salutation. In response, all the people in the arena shouted their greeting, "Hail, Queen of the Night!"

  As the Woman lowered her hands once more, Kaleb heard the sounds of the assembly being seated, but he could not sit. He could not even move, the Lady before him so captivated the youth that she stole away any hope of movement.

  Even in the dimly reflected half-light that illuminated her, he could see in her a living beauty beyond anything that even his moss-induced fantasies had ever produced. In proportion, in perfection, in pleasure, that one sight of her redefined forever his definition of Woman.

  And her robes! Black! Flowing. Unbound at the waist. And...?!

  They were not robes at all but moving shadows that clung to her seductive form. Moving, changing, barely revealing and then hiding, they wove a hypnotic, suggestive pattern round and round her body.

  Fire burned in Kaleb's heart. Confusion! Excitement!

  Speak to me! his heart silently implored her. And then her heady, sweet perfume touched him, driving all powers of reason and self-determination from his grasp.

  She turned, took a step closer to look directly at the gray-robed youth. Her coal-black eyes sparkled in the darkness and Kaleb saw his own twin reflected images captured in their depths. Deliberately the Woman wet her lips with her tongue before she spoke. The soft whisper she employed was deep and suggestive, yet something in the shape of the room, allowed even the softest sound from the center to be clearly heard throughout.

  "Kaleb, son of Timnon," she called his name, "We would ask you some questions."

  Anything! Anything at all! he thought, so filled with the presence of the beautiful seductress, that he would have willingly given up life itself at her whim. But the ability of speech had departed: he could only nod his head in willingness to comply.

  The Dragon Lady continued, her voice now louder and more demanding, "You have heard the creed and doctrines of the Society of the Dragon? Do you wish to join us in power as the rightful rulers of Dragonsback? Do you swear, on pain of blood, your undying allegiance to Lord Dragon, in whom we live, and move, and have our being?!"

  If it had been his to give he would have given this Woman the entire world. Of course he would give her his life. And now he would give her his words. "I do!" he shouted and the echo filled the cavernous chamber. Shouted once, the commitment repeated itself over and over in his ears.

  The Lady smiled at him and moved even closer! Kaleb’s blood pounded so loud in his ears that he thought his temples were going to explode. The darkened room swirled about his head as She reached out an elegant arm, now bare of any covering, and lightly touched his forehead.

  Hot pleasure, like molten honey, poured down from that point of contact to immerse the transfixed young man in a cocoon of ecstasy. The feeling! That remembered and longed for feeling from his distant infancy coursed through his veins like a living thing.

  At last! he thought, I have found it! I am home!

  The Source of that pleasure whispered for his ears alone, “Be seated, Kaleb, dragonman of the Heartland!”

  The Touch lingered only a second longer but the burning fire it produced in his heart remained. Like a man in a trance, Kaleb stumbled backward to find again the comforting strength of his seat.

  Slowly, the Grand Dragon moved away to take up a
position exactly between his chair and the pole, effectively blocking his view of anything but Herself. Her eyes never left him, and his were bound inexorably within their infinite depths. If those eyes were the bottomless Sea, he would have gladly cast himself into that deep, to sink forever with no thought of life, or death, or rescue.

  Her next question (though given in a soft and intimate tone guaranteed to coax a response) left Kaleb speechless again for a moment: it was that totally unexpected!

  "Tell us about the Headmaster of the Middle Isle Orphanage," She asked him. "How well did he treat you and your younger brother, Jason? What are your true feelings about the man you knew as 'Marvin'?"

  Tentative, at first. He addressed the Speaker, “Your Majesty…”

  Then anger and frustration flared like an erupting volcano from deep inside the youth. Years of pent up emotion burst from his lips in a verbal stream of hot lava. "He kept us like rats in a cage!" Kaleb spat the words at her, in spite of himself. "Our only freedom was to view the outside world through a tiny barred window. He only allowed us out on forced learning trips and those were strictly supervised. We had our childhoods stripped away from us! We weren't allowed to act, or think, or even look like other kids our same age."

  Kaleb paused in his tirade to grab a quick breath before continuing: the volcano momentarily restricted itself to allow the build-up of even greater pressures. "It was almost like Jason and I were two coins belonging to a stingy old miser! Rather than take a chance of spending or losing us, he stuck us down in the moldy old boot he wore, to live out our lives in the filth of his unwashed feet!

  "You ask me what I think of Marvin? I hate him! I hate him almost as much as I hate the cursed Swimmer who drowned my parents! And I am not alone in my hatred. Even in our forced isolation, we heard the forbidden songs the other children of the Orphanage, the ones with more freedom, sang behind his back!"

  And Kaleb changed his voice to mimic that of a taunting angry child:

  "Marvin, Marvin, mean and cruel,

  Feeds us crusts and feeds us gruel.

  For everything he has a rule:

  We hate the short, fat, ugly fool!"

  "No!" screamed a voice, familiar, even though distorted by extreme anguish or fear. The Grand Dragon gracefully moved sideways into the darkness, revealing the Director of Middle Isle Orphanage naked, all pudgy and pinkish-white, tied to the thorning pole opposite Kaleb's seated position.

  Kaleb burst out laughing to see the always dignified, always in control, Marvin squealing and desperately wiggling to free himself, like some fat pig, trussed up for selling in the market. The entire assembly followed in the mirth. The pink pig turned visibly redder.

  "I tried to protect you!" screamed the man on the pole. "I knew you two were special so I kept you away from that other filth! I treated you like my treasures! I knew they had plans for you!"

  "Silence him!" came the harsh feminine order from the nearby darkness. Two dark-robed dragonmen rushed forward. One slapped Marvin hard across the face, then they both worked together to roughly gag his slumping form.

  Again the Grand Dragon approached Kaleb. Again the sensuality of her presence overwhelmed him, heart, mind, and body.

  "This man," she accused, "is responsible for your brother being in the hands of that mind-bending, murderous, Swimmer-bard! It is your right as a member of the Society to exact revenge! You may practice on this despicable failure, for the time in the near future when you will face the bard, himself!"

  From somewhere in her swirling robes, she produced a huge thorn, different from any he had ever seen because of its barbed end. This weapon, once used, would leave behind a poisonous stinger like a very large bee.

  Marvin screamed through his gag, a muffled and piteous wail.

  "Silence, you incompetent, fat toad!" screamed the Dragon Lady, turning to face her victim, "Or I will finish you myself!"

  Kaleb rose to his feet to accept the thorn she offered and moved toward the naked man on the pole. First, he would make full and expert use of this gift from his newfound Queen, then he would reach into his pack for the poisonous brand that he had cherished there for so very long—the one in which he had etched the letters “M A R V I N”. It too would not be wasted. Behind him, others gathered, each with a thorn in hand, to finish the process he would begin.

  Kaleb laughed as he stood before his tormentor. The former Director of Central Isle Orphanage still looked like a fat squirming pig, ready for slaughter, but now he was decidedly white in color.

  DARK TOMORROW

  “Master Nathan, why are we heading back out of the Valley? We really haven’t been there all that long?” Jason didn’t want to seem disrespectful to his mentor, so he didn’t voice all the questions that were really on his heart.

  They were supposed to be bards. He had been learning his lessons and memorizing many things from his teacher's instructions; and one thing he definitely knew--bards were supposed to sing entertaining songs and carry news from one part of Dragonsback to another. In order to do that, they had to find people, but Nathan deliberately seemed to be keeping away from towns. For several days now they had been steadily climbing up through the forested slopes bordering the side of the Great Valley. In this rugged environment, settlements or even squatters’ shacks were as scarce as fish in the River. For the past two nights, they had made their bed under the stars and supped from stores in their packs instead of exercising bard’s rights and enjoying the hospitality of the locals. The narrow winding path they now traveled lacked any sign of recent passage by any of those locals.

  “I was wondering how long it would take you to ask!” laughed Nathan, his dark beard shaking with merriment. “I bet you’re trying to figure out why we’re not busy singing to the folks down in the Valley, but rather traipsing about in these barren woods?”

  Even the semi-twilight of the overhead leaf canopy could not hide Jason’s silent crimson response.

  The bard chuckled and continued, “I could give you your GrandSire’s response and tell you ‘we’re a followin’ Gryphon’s tracks’ but I think you probably want to know more than that, so I’ll ask you a question. If I gave you a new instrument, say a set of reed pipes, would you try to show off your playing ability to the first person we met?”

  “Only if I’d practiced and learned how to play those pipes well before we met that person. Probably not, even then. From the little bit of practice I’ve done on the lute I know that playing well is a long involved process. To try and play without the practice would only bring discomfort to the hearer and shame on the player!” Jason felt like adding a question that started, “but what does that have to do with…” He did not. He had grown in his knowledge of the bard’s ways enough to know that the question would be answered regardless. Anything else would have been redundant.

  “Exactly!” exclaimed Nathan with approval in his voice. “And you, my son, are just such an instrument. Three days ago, when you gave your life to the Gryphon and His Son, you put your self into the hands of a new Master Player. In your case, He does not need to learn how to play you, rather you need to learn how He plays. You are an instrument with a will of its own. The Master’s touch is light. Only those instruments that learn to wait in anticipation of that touch will learn to faithfully play His songs. In a world full of doing and being, rushing here and there, it is hard to feel that touch. We are in the woods so you can learn to practice!”

  “That way,” said Jason, joining in on the analogy, “Those who hear will hear truly and the Player will not be shamed! Is that why we have spent our time learning Gryphonsong while we walk? So I will better recognize His touch? To be able… To be able to see Gryphon’s tracks!”

  Nathan beamed a smile at his student and slapped him soundly on the back in approval, “Well spoken, son. Well-spoken, indeed!”

  A sudden realization brought a tear of joy to the young man’s eye. All of his life he had guarded his back, for any bump or jostle of his pack had brought instant
and excruciating pain from the thorns he carried. When Nathan had slapped him he had winced involuntarily. But he felt no pain! Even though the ugly scars remained, his back truly had been healed! Three days. Three days had made quite a difference in his life. What other changes had occurred?

  “There are two other reasons why we are on this mountain track,” said the bard quietly after a few moments.

  Something in his serious tone brought an instant end to Jason’s brief mental reverie. Fully alert, the apprentice waited to hear what awaited him.

  “The first reason has to do with something that you overheard in the dream you experienced in Scalina. Brother Lot shared with me a little of what happened to you. As far as I know — and Lot agreed with this assessment — you in all likely hood received a true vision. Until the recent events that have changed you forever, I did not want to share my speculation with you. Now, as a young follower of the Gryphon’s Son, you need to hear what the truth may be. It appears that the dragonmen have had long-reaching plans for you and your brother. Because of this, we are walking on paths where they will not be looking for us.”

  Jason remained silent in thought, pondering this disturbing revelation. That would explain why they had been repeatedly attacked, but why would the dragonmen be so interested in two young boys? He opened his mouth to seek enlightenment, but Nathan spoke before he could say a word.

  “The second reason we are taking this path is because it is the shortest way to our next goal. We are going to meet some friends who live on the coast in the village of Haven. They are some of the Gryphon’s fishermen and they know you by name. They fought the Dragon alongside your GrandSire and will rejoice greatly when they hear the new song you have to sing.”