The Dragon's Back Trilogy

by Robert Dennis Wilson

  “If you have done anything to hurt my young friend…” responded the bard in a voice as cold as ice in the North and as sharp as the sword at his side.

  “Oh, you misunderstand me,” replied the priest. “Our purpose is rescuing people, not hurting them.”

  “You, then, have made your choice,” warned Nathan. “Now you must live with its consequences.” Then he took three large steps backward, slowly and deliberately drew his sword and (in the sight of the priests) anointed its blade with every last drop of the dew remaining in his ‘skin. Each drop sparkled in the torchlight as it fell toward the ground, where it sizzled and popped like acid burning into unprotected flesh.

  Instantly Nathan’s bone-white sword glowed brightly in the night as though lit with the power of the sun. The feeble-flamed torches sputtered and went out. The green-robed priests all took a sudden and involuntary step backward as if afraid they would be burned by this light.

  Nathan snapped the handle of his sword firmly to his chest with the blade raised over his head. By that action he left the clear message, I AM ON GUARD AND WILL DEFEND WITH MY LIFE. Nathan, bard of the Heartland, then spun on his heels like a palace guard on parade and marched out of their darkened presence.

  ~ ~ ~

  Shortly after dawn the next morning, Nathan and his friends gathered just inside the outer walls of the grounds of Arden Nox. Traversing the dismal swamp, they began circling the fortress only an arm’s length from the wall. Each man or woman carried with him a freshly filled but unstoppered Gryphonskin. Having each marked off a section of the wall, at a signal they slowly and silently started walking in the same direction around the perimeter. As they walked they poured out a steady stream of dew against the slimy green foundation stones of the college.

  Other Swimmers arrived, one after the other, to replenish the walkers’ supply of the Dew of the Morning. Where the River had lapped its walls, bold Swimmers walked. But instead of staining their feet, the poisonous flow retreated from the touch of the fresh water. In fact, everywhere the dew was sprinkled, if only for a path an arm’s length wide, the marsh disappeared, mysteriously replaced by solid ground.

  In this way, a thin, fragile circle of fresh, sweet water finally encircled the mighty citadel of the River Watcher priests. Nathan had chosen his place directly opposite the dark entranceway of the unresponsive fortress. His task finished, at last, he raised a great shout.

  “For the Gryphon and His Son we stand!”

  Others near him took up the shout and so it spread around the circle in both directions, like a wave spreading outward from its source. Each one who heard, repeated and continued to repeat the words until, as one, the entire Swimmer army echoed the battle-cry of the bard.

  “For the Gryphon and His Son we stand!”

  “For the Gryphon and His Son we stand!”

  The circle of dew was complete. The army of the Gryphon raised their bone-white swords into the air and shouted all the louder.

  “For the Gryphon and His Son we stand!”

  Slowly, the ancient and massive walls of Arden Nox began to shake as though they stood on a foundation of quicksand.

  “For the Gryphon and His Son we stand!”

  The impervious scaline of the huge blocks began to flake off and crumble to dust.

  “For the Gryphon and His Son we stand!”

  Suddenly the college doors at the end of the tunnel swung open.

  “For the Gryphon and His Son we stand!”

  Nathan raised his arms in signal and the ringing battle cry faded to a lingering echo.

  Followed by an entourage of unarmed green-robed priests and gray-robed initiates, a frantic senior pontificate (marked by the dark green miter on his head) rushed out to confront the bard. “What are you doing?” he demanded. “Why are you trying to destroy the good work that this place does?”

  “I am not destroying this school for its good work,” replied the bard facing his accuser with burning coals of righteousness in his eyes and the fire of truth in his voice, “but I will destroy it for its bad. I came to you peacefully on two occasions with no weapon in my hands, but your priests have spoken to me harshly with thorns and sharpened swords in their hands and threats and lies on their tongues. Contrary to the law of the land, you have refused to give me hospitality. At the same time, you have retained my young apprentice under false pretenses. If you do not release him immediately, I will gather more Swimmers with more dew! I promise you in the name of the Gryphon we serve, that together we will continue to circle this nest of dragons until not one stone remains atop another!

  “Last night I drew my Gryphon’s sword only as I left this place. Make no mistake, until the bard, Jason ben-Timnon, stands free and unharmed in my presence, this blade will not return to its resting place– no matter who or what gets in its way. This, I swear, is bard’s truth!”

  ~ ~ ~

  Only one sad note marred the joyous reunion that soon took place outside the gate of Arden Nox College.

  “Brave Swimmers of the Heartland!” Jason shouted to his gathered rescuers, “You have by your efforts today, shaken the Dragon and even turned back the tide of the River! For this and my rescue, I thank you from the bottom of my heart! And I thank the Gryphon who sent you here!”

  The Swimmers raised a mighty cheer at the young bard’s words.

  He raised his hands to be allowed to continue, “And no one can belittle the victory you have won today, but one thing saddens me greatly. I share this because Nathan, my master, has told me that you, my brothers and sisters, are a formidable army of Shellbowl Warriors. With a heavy heart, I offer you a dark reflection. My night’s stay in that evil place has confirmed my worst fears. My brother Kaleb, Grandson of Thaddeus the carver, is indeed missing. We can only assume he lies now within the heart of the Dragon. And perhaps the Dragon also lies within him. By your united request to the Gryphon, I trust that soon will change!”

  OVER THE BRIDGE THAT TROUBLED WATERS

  “I’m used to rising early, but not this early and usually not to go to a specific location at such an early hour. What exactly is this place we’ll be visiting this morning?” Jason tried to stifle a yawn as he asked his question.

  Overhead, many of the stars were still visible, dimly twinkling as they waltzed in their eternally slow dance across the gray-black floor of the heavens. The red-orange glow of the pre-dawn hinted of highlights to come on the still indistinct edges of the night-enshrouded mountains to their east. Closer at hand, the morning mist blurred objects even within the range of their recently revived campfire and every surface dripped with the moisture of the new morning’s dew.

  Their morning routines finished and their light breakfast eaten, Jason puzzled at his mentor’s continued silence. Ever since his student’s release from Arden Nox, Nathan had seemed wrapped in a cloak of deep and troubling thoughts. Jason had endured a day’s hard walk with no songs, lessons, or pleasant conversation and then a chilly night marked only by the bard’s cryptic comment, “We must rise extra early tomorrow. There is someplace nearby that we must visit.”

  The rising sun seemed to have improved the bard’s disposition for at last he offered a more expansive (yet still cryptic) explanation, “We are going someplace safe. We will be among friends there. In fact, there will be more Swimmers gathered than you have ever seen before in one place in your entire life. We go to the Gryphon’s Bridge. The brothers and sisters gathered there follow the Gryphon in a way that is slightly different than you have known before. Today will be, for you, a learning experience. For me, it will provide a chance to compare notes with other visiting bards. Something is happening in the land, but I don’t yet know what it is. Maybe we can find some answers there.”

  As they shouldered their packs and headed south along the River through the rapidly dispelling fog, Jason attempted to continue their conversation. “I’ve heard about the bridges before, though I don’t think I’ve ever seen one. From what I remember, they’re meeting places, stru
ctures of different sizes, crossing the River from one side to the other. Some are so big and filled with so many rooms that they could house an entire town! I didn’t know they had anything to do with Swimmers. Are all of the bridges built by Swimmers?”

  “No,” replied the bard. Enough light now leaked past the Dragon’s eastern spines so that Jason could see the bard shaking his head sadly as he spoke. “Although most of the bridges are constructed by people who purport to follow the Gryphon is some way or fashion, in reality, many of them are just community efforts to avoid contact with the darker and more dangerous parts of the River. They are maintained more by a sense of social duty than by any prompting from Gryphonsong or the Great Eagle. These people are just playing bridge, not living the reality.”

  “What do people do at their meetings on the bridges?”

  “One of the main purposes of the in-gatherings (as they are called) is the spreading of ‘truth’. But here is where problems arise for the Dragon is like polished scaline that has been warped and twisted. He reflects the light of truth in ways that are very distorted. People see this shining corruption and try to emulate it. As a result, some well-intentioned individuals and their followers (and forgive me as I change metaphors) will listen to only one or two notes from the entire symphony of Gryphonsong and try to build their bridge based only on the limited bits they have heard. Unknowingly wrapped in dark wings they call this limited blueprint ‘truth’ and vehemently oppose anything or anyone with different plans. There are a lot of very strange looking bridges spanning the River!”

  “Well, if bridges get so messed up, why build them at all?” asked Jason, confused by this confusion.

  “Because we were commanded to,” said Nathan with conviction in his voice. “When the Swimmer-Son walked on Dragonsback (before they chained Him to the source of the River), He gave His followers this promise:

  On this rock will I build my bridge,

  Though the currents of the River assail.

  From its arch, you must rescue

  Those soon to be drowned:

  Against my bridge evil will not prevail.

  Unto you, I’ve given the key

  To my kingdom and to Gryphonsland:

  What you bind here

  Will also be bound there:

  What you lose here will be free there by my hand. 11

  “From what you have told me, you have seen the true bridge He built for us (Thaddeus used it to cross over to the Gryphonsland!) Those who would follow the Swimmer also try to build earthly bridges, not so much for themselves, but to rescue those swept away by the River and as a place to help others learn to become rescuers as well.”

  “If that’s the case,” replied Jason with a flash of insight that rivaled the newly risen sun, “then the false bridges are counterfeits built with the Dragon’s help to distract people from the Swimmer-Son’s true purpose. They’re just a lot of wasted effort spent to make bridges full of holes! So they’re just like that one-sided bridge to no-where out on Mann’s Pointe that we passed when my GrandSire was still with us!”

  Nathan smiled at him approvingly and nodded; words were not needed to confirm something they both recognized as truth.

  They continued to walk north on the River Road in contemplative silence. When the dusty thoroughfare turned westward to skirt a dark patch of thorntrees, they lost sight of the River for a while. A pattern of regularly-spaced wide and rounded hills (or tall mounds), being divided by crisscrossed depressions, marked the entire floor of the Great Plain. Nathan had told him that the technical term for each of these rises was “a scale”, whatever that meant. They had mounted the summit of one of these hills before the thorntree grove dwindled away and the Road turned eastward once more toward the Great Stream of the Dragon.

  Having, at last, cleared the tangled obstruction, Jason suddenly had a clear view of the Valley ahead and below. Awestruck by the sight before him, he stopped in his tracks. A low whistle escaped his lips before he asked, “Is that Gryphon’s Bridge? It’s huge!”

  In spite of his earlier memorized description, he had never actually envisioned just how big a building would have to be to “house an entire town”.

  He had previously estimated they were only a handsworth of days below the source of the River, yet already the poisonous flow had carved a wide serpentine path into the Valley floor. He guessed that it would take him a good portion of the morning to walk from one side of the Stream to the other if such a thing were possible.

  Apparently, it was. Stretching from a point well beyond the banks on either side of the River, rose an immense structure that reminded Jason of nothing less than a fortified castle. Though none of the joined buildings were taller than his present viewpoint, still the stone, coral, and wooden structure sported many towers. Two guarded each of the landward ends of the Bridge, others marked, at regular intervals, the arched boulevard that led out to the extensive expanse of the middle. The most substantial of the towers marked the four corners of this grandest and most central of the buildings. A fifth, a slightly thinner, more intricate, and by far the highest of the scaline monoliths, rose directly from the central peak of this edifice. From its pinnacle, flapping in the morning breeze flew a huge blood-red banner emblazoned with a golden Gryphon of the same pattern as the one on Jason’s ‘skin of adoption.

  Conflicting feelings, grotesque revulsion mixed with awestruck amazement, had mired Jason’s feet as he stopped to wonder at this strange sight. During his travels with Nathan through the mountains, they had happened upon a scaled reptile that had just consumed an animal much larger than itself. It lay there, unable to move, with its narrow head stretched in one direction and its thin tail in the other. In the middle, the creature swelled to contain the bulk of that which sustained it.

  Similarly shaped, this massive, River-spanning construction below him also filled Jason with similar conflicts. He, himself, had become a Swimmer, yet as he looked at the Bridge, the thought of entering that place built by and filled with so many Swimmers inundated his resolve and eroded his strength. The sheer massiveness of the structure made it more intimidating than inviting, more large than lovely. As a stranger it made him feel much more wary than welcome, almost like the tiniest of fish, an unnoticed innocent morsel, about to be consumed by some great denizen of the deep.

  If just looking at that Bridge, Jason puzzled (not daring to let Nathan know his thoughts), makes me feel this way, what about those who don’t know the Gryphon’s Son? The thought of willingly entering this fortress (even when invited by a friend) must fill them with all kinds of fear. Passing under those towers would make them feel like they’re walking naked into an armed camp! But, then again, I’ve never been in there before and looks can be deceiving. Master Nathan has warned me to not trust a piece of fruit until I first cut it open and examine its middle. Although this first sight of Gryphon’s Bridge makes me uncomfortable, I will reserve judgment for now. After all, it’s filled with Swimmers; it can’t be too bad.

  “You really seem lost in thought,” commented the bard after his student had remained motionless for some time. “But if we don’t continue our journey, we’ll never make the first in-gathering.”

  “The ‘first’?” Jason wondered out loud, moving forward down the hill with his mentor.

  “Yes, there are so many people who attend Gryphon’s Bridge that they have split themselves into two separate assemblies. One meets early in the morning, the other just before the noontime meal. Between them, there is a less formal time of combined training and practice.”

  “There must be a lot of people if they can’t all fit into the buildings on that Bridge!” exclaimed Jason, but then noticed something very peculiar. “I thought you said that this was a Bridge. Aren’t bridges supposed to go over the top of the water? It looks like this thing’s actually blocking the flow like a dam!”

  “That’s only partially true, son. See there, on the far side, is a channel passing under an actual bridge. The rest is as you
say. Gryphon’s Bridge was built to withstand the poison of the River and try to change its direction and flow. In fact, that is part of what they see as their purpose for being or their calling. They believe the Gryphon, Himself, wants them to take this public stand before everyone on Dragonsback!”

  It seemed obvious to Jason from the tone that Nathan employed that the bard whole-heartedly shared the sentiments of the Bridgebuilders. For that reason, the apprentice bard chose his next words very carefully. Something that he saw did not make sense to him.

  “I can clearly see that this magnificent structure is a monument to those who are dedicated to following the Gryphon and His Son. I really have no right or great wisdom to question their worthy calling, but I definitely do have some questions about the way they are carrying it out.”

  “What do you mean?” asked the bard, apparently taken off guard by his student.

  “In damming the River,” Jason continued, “haven’t they forced it to flow through restricted channels? Normally the water of the River flows fairly placidly, but it looks to me like their actions have caused it to be transformed instead into a loud and angry torrent. Am I wrong in thinking there are at least three problems that this makes much worse? First, if the purpose of a Bridge, according to what you told me, is to rescue those that have fallen into the River, doesn’t making the water run faster also make it harder to conduct that rescue? And second, whether foreseen or not, their damming has churned up the water, mixing the bad together with the not so bad, so that those living in the wake of their efforts will be more poisoned than if there had been no dam at all. And, finally, doesn’t damming the River cause it to swell and consume more of the heartland?”