The Dragon's Back Trilogy

by Robert Dennis Wilson

  Applause broke out across the audience.

  “Our Bridge stands against the flow of the River! Any that pass by can see the monumental effort the Gryphon has used us to accomplish. We have spanned the poisonous flood and made it our goal to rescue those who fall in and help those who need to cross!”

  Again the applause and shouted approval interrupted the speaker.

  “All of this is good and fine, but we need to do more on a day-by-day basis…”

  The Master then elegantly and logically presented his message on the technique of lengthening your strokes to swim farther. The more he heard, the more Jason grew convicted of his own poor ability to swim. But as the message progressed, he wondered when they were actually going to start the swimming lesson.

  In the end, several people came forward and were invited to take their First Swim. Members of the orchestra moved and uncovered a previously unseen opening to a shallow pool cut into the floor of the lower platform. Behind the pool, they raised a beautiful tapestry picturing the shore of the ocean with waves breaking on the sands.

  Jason, however, wondered if they got the real effect. After all, the pool was less than half a mansheight deep. How could that compare to a bottomless ocean with real waves? The devotees were each asked if they had become Swimmers and then were allowed, with William’s help, to float on their backs as proof. Finally, the lifeguards passed out seashells so everyone could take the sound of the ocean with them until the next In-gathering.

  After William finished his lecture, the people left their seats and noisily talked with each other while they waited for the next activity to begin. Jason, bursting with the strangeness of the many things he had seen, drew his mentor aside into a quieter alcove.

  “Master Nathan, do the people who attend this Bridge ever go to the ocean to swim or are they content with a one time visit to their shallow puddle?”

  The sad reply came, “Most of these people never even climb the mountains, let alone see the ocean. William, their swim-master and teacher, did attend a school on the coast, so he at least had a chance to swim the waves sometime in his past, but that was probably a long time ago.”

  “This then is a strange place, full of Swimmers who never swim!”

  “No,” replied the bard, “if these truly belong to the Gryphon’s Son, then they are His to judge. Before Him they will stand or fall. We must leave them under His paw.”

  “I hear what you say,” replied the pupil, “but I can’t believe that the Gryphon wants all these people to live their lives without knowing the joy of floating over the bottomless deep with only the Master to hold them up! Someone needs to tell them what they’re missing!”

  When Nathan failed to respond, Jason continued, “Forgive me for continuing and believe me I’m not trying to condemn what I’ve seen, but there was much that confused me in today’s proceedings. I may be wrong, but it felt to me as though they spent much of their effort lifting themselves up to the Gryphon instead of actually lifting up the Gryphon. I am not sure if this is a good thing or not, but it seemed like they should have come here to find Him who in all reality could and should have been walking with them all week long!”

  Jason felt a trembling in his Gryphonskin as he spoke, and knew the reality of Gryphonsbreath guiding his words. He continued with a rush, as if in a hurry to expel something distasteful from his mouth, “I learned a new word today, ‘worship’. But is that what I saw here? I think many of these people were actually worshipping their worship instead of bowing to the Gryphon! Only one person in this entire crowd of people actually bowed down during their service and that was William himself, and then only for the briefest moment. They danced before a deity of noise, caught up in the joy of what they were doing! Whatever happened to humbly bowing in silent reverence before the One whose silent word made us all?”

  Jason saw that his words had brought tears to the dark eyes of his friend, so he stopped to rethink what he had said.

  Into that void, the older bard quietly intruded, “He who shouts all the time never hears the words of One who whispers! You are right, young bard, they do need to be told! If only they will listen!”

  “But I am just a child, newly come to the King,” responded Jason, sensing Nathan’s pain. “What do I know of what is or is not the right way to serve Him?”

  At that moment a loud gong sounded, echoing through the walls of the Gryphon’s Bridge. But underneath it, Jason thought he heard his mentor comment with approval, “What indeed? What indeed?”

  TRIBUTE

  In a place much darker than the colorful glazed glory of Gryphon’s Bridge, Kaleb rose suddenly to his feet and started wildly waving his arm.

  “Raven! Come look at this!” from his work area Kaleb called out to the distant passing form of his gigantic friend.

  The Blackrobe captain, quickly altered his course to weave among the many stone benches of the other craftsmen, until he, at last, loomed above Jason’s brother.

  “So what has the young protégé produced today?” boomed the giant, smacking the young carver affectionately on the back., with what sounded and felt like the same force he used to “knock” on a stone wall to gain entrance.

  Good thing I set my piece down before that hit, Kaleb silently mused, otherwise, it might have been shaken to pieces!

  Without a word, Kaleb proudly held up an intricately carved scaline dragon in flight, with a wingspan more than two extended hands across. The fierce gemstone dragon had been mounted to the face of a colorful block of scaline, so it looked like it hovered in attack mode.

  “Wow! That is fantastic!” shouted the bard with enough volume to startle many of the surrounding crafters. He picked up the piece for a closer examination, “That’s the best you’ve made, yet! What do you plan on doing with it?”

  Kaleb sensed Raven’s envy and covetousness toward his work and so reluctantly replied, “I have poured my heart into this, to make it a worthy tribute to our beautiful queen. Could you please make sure that she receives this gift, along with my expressed devotion?”

  Obviously crestfallen, the Giant replied, “If that is what you want…”

  SWORDSMAN SCHOOL

  “Master Nathan?” Jason had to call out to be heard even though the man sat right next to him, “Are we done here? Is that why everyone is moving around?”

  “No, son, Gryphon’s Bridge has special training classes between the two main sessions. The assembly breaks up into small groups led by skilled instructors. Everyone has previously been divided up by either age or skill level and will go to the appropriate private practice rooms in the Swordsman Training Center for their lessons. It’s a chance to get practical training on a more private level. I think it would be good for you to attend a class of those your own age.”

  “Does that mean you’re not coming with me?” asked Jason, not wanting to face a group of strangers alone.

  “Consider it part of your bard’s training. You have to be able to communicate with people you don’t know. Some day you’ll be out on your own and have to do it all the time. Today, you can practice that and get a fresh slant on your sword discipline at the same time!” said the bard, then added with a smile and a wink, “Besides, I need some fresh meat to practice on with my sword; my current ‘practice pole’ is getting all full of holes!”

  “Yes,” laughed Jason, “and I felt every one of them, too! All right, I’ll go if you insist. Someone else can get a chance to poke some more holes into this old pole! Point me in the right direction.”

  “See those double doors over there? Go through there and ask someone where the class is for your age group. I’m sure they’ll be only too glad to help you out. When your training session’s over, meet me on the bridge outside of the main door.”

  Jason followed the directions but did not immediately find someone to give him assistance. Most of the assembly had either already entered one of the practice rooms or were rapidly walking toward one. No one seemed particularly interested in the you
ng stranger, so he continued walking down the door-lined hall.

  Then Jason noticed that there were labels above the doors giving ages and skill levels.

  This won’t be too hard, he thought. All I have to do is keep looking until I find the door with the right label. I won’t have to ask anyone!

  But he did not realize how many doors there were. The hall crossed another hall and then another. Still, he had not found one labeled “Sixteen-year-old Intermediate” (for in spite of his humorous comments, Nathan often praised Jason’s growing swordsmanship and marked him well above a beginner).

  Finally, the young bard found a large door with the word “INFIRMARY” stenciled above it in bright red letters. Under that in smaller letters were the words “Give me your tired and your poor.”

  Well, there ought to be someone in here that can help me, he thought with relief. Healers are supposed to help anyone in need. Besides, if I don’t make it to that class Nathan wants me to attend I just might need a healer for real!

  He knocked politely on the wooden door, but when he received no reply pushed it open. The vacant room did not remind him of any healer’s office he had ever seen or heard of before. Instead of apothecary shelves, there were long lists of rules lining the walls. Some were titled “DO” and the others “DON’T DO”.

  In the middle of the fairly small room stood what appeared to be an examination table.

  The strange thing was the steeply sloped ramp that extended from the foot of the table, through an opening in the wall of the Bridge. Jason looked out the opening to see that the ramp led downward to just touch the lapping water of the River below.

  This is great! thought Jason. They can use this to rescue people who are trapped in the River and pull them up here to safety. No, wait a second. If they wanted to rescue someone, the ramp should be pointed against the flow of the current so someone could be caught by it and then pulled up. This ramp is pointed in the opposite direction. If I didn’t know better, I’d think this was a place for putting people into the River!

  “What are you doing in here, young man?” asked a stern masculine voice from behind him.

  Startled, Jason spun around with his heart pounding as though he had been caught in the act of some grievous transgression. “I… I was looking,” he managed to stutter, “for someone to help me.”

  The man that had spoken, though slightly shorter than Jason, entirely filled the doorway from side to side so that his arms squeezed against the doorjambs. His somber charcoal gray robe exactly complemented the frowning expression on his double-chinned face. Rippling sunlight, reflecting from the opening to the River weakly glowed in shifting patterns off of the shining palate of his mostly bald head. Jason easily recognized that the man seemed irritated but could not recognize the golden guild markings on his sleeve.

  “What’s the matter, are you sick?” said the rotund man gruffly while taking a wary step backward away from the strange young bard (no mean feat considering his size). “The examining board only meets on Tuesdays.”

  “No, no,” Jason assured him, trying to offer a friendly smile in spite of the awkward circumstance he found himself in. “I’m a first time visitor to your Bridge and I was only trying to find someone to show me how to locate the correct practice room.”

  Hearing this, the man’s countenance changed abruptly and dramatically, like a candelabrum brought into a dark room. Gone were the frowns and gruff words, replaced instantly by overwhelming smiles and deferential smoothness. “Oh my, young man,” he purred, “you certainly are in the wrong place then. Please, come this way, if you would, and allow me to show you exactly where you need to be. I must apologize; when I found you in our Infirmary I thought you were someone else. I certainly wouldn’t want you to get the wrong impression about us. After all, we at Gryphon’s Bridge love our visitors!”

  What a strange man, thought Jason as he followed his erstwhile benefactor first this way, then that, up and down through a maze of hallways and doors.

  “Here we are… son… these rooms are where… our teens meet,” said the gray-robed man between great puffing breaths. The sheen of moisture on the man’s hairless head gave the impression that it had been polished for hours with many coats of wax. “What skill level… would you like… for your practice time?”

  “My master says that I’m a Grade One Intermediate,” said the young bard trying to keep pride from his voice. “And by the way, thank you for your effort.”

  The guide had apparently regained his breath, for his words again resembled the smooth purring of a cat. “Very impressive standings for one (and I mean no offense at this), for one so young. You see, I’m only a Grade Two myself! Well, here’s your room. Just ask someone to lead you back to the main hall when you’re through. I hope you enjoy your time at Gryphon’s Bridge.”

  Then the round man turned on his heels and waddled (more slowly) back in the direction from which he had just come.

  As Jason walked through the door, he almost ran into a wiry man more than twice his own age whose arms were full of intricately carved bone swords, much like his own. The man’s green robes and dark blue arm stripes marked him as a senior River Watcher. A single additional stripe above the others, a thin one of crimson red, also identified him as a master swordsman qualified to train others.

  “Ah, greetings, young bard, welcome to our class!” said the instructor, a wide grin beaming out from between an elaborately waxed mustache and a grandly pointed goatee. “I am Mousier Coupe Papier, one of zee teachers of zee Swordsman Training Center. Please come een and introduce yourself to zee class while I am passing out zee swords to all of zee members!”

  Jason willingly complied with the instructions, finding himself warmly welcomed into the mixed-gender classroom by several handsworth of young people all his same age.

  Each of his classmates, in turn, received a sword from Mousier Papier. Jason surmised the man had to do this because each of his students, without exception, carried only a standard unsharpened scaline shortsword. The young bard, however, declined the offer, drawing his GrandSire’s sword instead. The swordmaster at first raised his eyebrows at Jason’s refusal then beamed with approval when he saw the nature of the instrument in the young man’s hand.

  The students at first stood around the perimeter of the large room while the swordmaster reviewed sword protocol and communication. Next, he gave them a brief history of the development and use of carved bone weapons (in contrast to scaline ones). Jason learned that the Gryphon’s Son brought the first of them with Him when He arrived on Dragonsback. The instructor also informed them that the large tusked donor of the raw material had since ancient times been called the “icthus”.

  This is more like what I was expecting! Thought Jason as the practical training began. The young people were separated into pairs to practice the defensive and offensive stances and thrusts that their instructor had just demonstrated. Mousier Papier took an active interest in the progress of each of his students, sometimes prompting them to more careful execution of detail with the flat of his sword. Jason found the training to be comprehensive and very practical, as his new bruises attested.

  However, partway through the session, Thomas, the young man Jason had been paired with started behaving quite strangely. First, the youth put down his sword against the wall, next he poured some water into a shellbowl, and then he bent over to stick his face so close to it that his nose must have gotten wet. After this, the young man, with the bowl held up to his face with one hand, started acting like he had a real sword in the other.

  All the members of the class stopped their individual exercises and focused their full attention on the young man’s pantomime. Jason noted that they each respectfully gave his invisible sword a wide birth, as though it were real so he followed their example. The important lessons he had been learning ceased for the moment while even the trainer watched the antics of the young man with the bowl.

  Finally, after some time, Jason could stand it no l
onger and so quietly asked a young lady from the class, “Please, could you tell me what Tomas is doing? Why is he disrupting the class and why is the instructor allowing him to do so?”

  “Oh, you must be new here! Tom has been given an Eagle’s quill sword, brought to him by eagles from the Gryphon’s land. Another name for it is a ‘Spirit sword”. Only those who are specially gifted by the Great Eagle may use one. Tom is fighting dragons and proving his worth to the Great Eagle!” she replied with a voice filled with an awe akin to hero-worship.

  Still confused, for he still saw nothing in the young man’s hand, Jason sought further insight into the spectacle, “Wouldn’t he be able to fight better if he had the shellbowl further away from his face?”

  She laughed at his ignorance, “Oh, you’re funny! Tom’s only using the bowl to keep his face wet. He’s not using his eyes at all. He keeps them closed so they won’t interfere with the work of the Eagle quill sword.

  “That’s a neat trick”, commented Jason. “It’s a wonder he doesn’t run someone through with that invisible sword of his!”

  “Oh, he does sometimes! When that happens, it knocks open that person’s pack, exposing the contents to everyone in the room! Then if something is amiss, they have to straighten it up. It’s really exciting!”

  Jason thanked the young lady and was about to move away to ponder all of this when the teacher, Mousier Papier, approached him, saying, “Young man... Jason, I believe you said... We’re so glad to have you with us today, especially since we have seen this display by the Great Eagle. I hope you’ve found our class interesting.”

  Jason thought about saying that the class had been very interesting until the whirling youth in the middle had started playing blind man’s bluff, but thought better of it, replying instead, “Yes, very interesting.”

  “Do you know,” continued the fencing instructor, “that a fine sword just like zee one that Tom is using is available to anyone who has sought to get closer to the Great Eagle? I can tell by your ‘skin of adoption that you have already received the blessing of zee Swimmer, but have you as yet experienced zee use of an Eagle quill sword? You do want to receive everything zee Great Eagle wants to give you, don’t you? Using an Eagle quill is zee true mark of a dragon-fighter. With it, you also could be a dragon-fighter just like Tom!”