The Dragon's Back Trilogy

by Robert Dennis Wilson

  “I can’t wait! I’ve always wondered what life was like in a big city!”

  “They can have it!” commented the bard, dislike seasoning his words so that even Jason could taste their sharpness. “If the towns and hamlets we’ve visited could be compared to the water flowing near the shores of the River (drinkable by some but still polluted), then Sinsinatti is center channel: filled with burning poison and corruption. Oh, don’t get me wrong, there are some decent people who live there, even some of our own sent there on a mission; but all in all, it’s a place much more to a dragon’s liking than mine. The Gryphonsbreath will open your eyes.”

  “I never looked at it that way before. I just thought of it as a place where lots of exciting things were happening all the time. I never stopped to consider whether or not those ‘things’ were pleasing to the Gryphon!”

  Nathan responded by repeating the words of a familiar proverb:

  “A Swimmer’s eyes should always be open

  Whenever he enters a darkened room;

  Then, when he’s arrived, he’ll know where he is

  And will not have stumbled in the gloom.”

  “Yeah, I know,” said Jason, nodding his head in affirmation. “And one of those eyes should be on his shellbowl!”

  “On that we both agree!” the bard clapped his partner on the back as he spoke, “and we ought to put that agreement into practice! I had not planned to stop since the house is vacant, but my family home is just ahead on the right. We can pause there to reflect for a while. I feel a troubling in my Gryphonskin and need to find out why.”

  Noting the unusual construction of the house through the trees, Jason commented, “I’ve not seen too many log houses in our travels. Why was your house not made of scaline block like most of the other buildings in the Valley?”

  “It was my Dad’s doing. Before he changed we used to live in a block house like everyone else, but after he got burned he didn’t want to have anything to do with the Dragon. Used the money he had earned singing and had this place built from seaside trees that had only felt the dew. Then he put in the perimeter of ocean pines for privacy. Didn’t want his family influenced by anything that might distract us from the Gryphon!”

  “He must have been a very interesting man. I would have liked to meet him.”

  “Someday you shall!” said the bard. Entering the yard through a narrow opening in an otherwise impenetrable wall of tall evergreen pines with thick foliage all the way to the ground and bypassing the entrance to the large log house, he led his apprentice around to the secluded back of the lot. There, in a long raised bed bordered with weathered square-cut logs, Jason made a startling discovery. As he followed Nathan onto the white-colored patio a crunching sound issued from under his boots with each step. When the bard sat down in a reflecting position and motioned for him to do likewise, he saw for the first time what they had been walking on.

  “Shells!? A bed of crushed shells from the seashore! Why? How?...”

  “Oh, it was my Father again,” replied the bard with a grin. “He was a true Swimmer and loved the sea. He told me he didn’t think anyone could do any serious reflecting if they were still in contact with the Dragon, so he had this place built and the shells brought in special. He used to spend hours out here talking to the Gryphon. At first, I thought he was going crazy or something, but later I learned he was right. This really is a good place to reflect!”

  Some minutes later Jason spoke softly in an intense whisper, not even looking up from the now darkened shellbowl lying before him, “Master Nathan, I saw something very frightening! Black wind-driven shadows darkened the sky ahead threatening to turn the daytime into night! Only the path itself was clear, except... Except up ahead, I saw the Gryphon! He stood there over the Road smiling at me and shining like a golden sun! Where He stood the shadows could not prevail! I believe He is telling me that something bad is ahead, but He wants me to go forward anyway!”

  He looked up in time to see a reflected golden glow fading from the face of his friend. Nathan’s eyes were closed and streaming with tears, but Jason could see a peaceful smile framed by his dark beard.

  After a moment the bard spoke, his words were hushed in a reverential whisper, “I saw something different, but the intent was the same. We must attend the Great Games and then proceed to the city as soon as possible. Empty your bowl so we can get started!” Then, after he had drunk the contents of his own golden shell and had risen to his feet, Nathan added almost as if an afterthought, “Oh, by the way, I’m an only child and my family is all gone; if something should happen to me, I want you and your brother to have this place.”

  They cut around the opposite corner of the house and out through a narrow opening between the massive trees. Jason noted in passing a weathered wooden bench nestled under the tree to his right. Oddly, it faced toward the trees but was hidden from the Road beyond.

  As they broke free of the prickly foliage, Jason noticed a large scaline structure jutting out into the water of the River. It was built on top of solid-looking pilings that allowed the water to continue its unrestricted course underneath. The edifice extended out to the middle of the River where it had been built up to resemble a small fortified castle. The purple banners of a healer flapped in the wind from their poles atop the four turrets.

  “What is that place?” asked Jason, stopping in his tracks. It certainly doesn’t look like a bridge, it only goes halfway across!”

  “Keep moving and I’ll tell you about it as we travel,” responded Nathan over his shoulder with uncharacteristic impatience. Jason hurried to catch up with the now fast walking bard.

  When his student again found his place Nathan began his explanation, “Do you remember how I told you that my father used to sing on the pleasure piers along the River, how he got addicted to strong water and then fell off the pier into the deepest channel?”

  Jason recognized the question as rhetorical so offered no response and the bard continued almost instantly, “That scaline monstrosity out in the water, that castle of wickedness, is the very place where he almost died. He received his scars right out there!” The bard pointed to his left without even looking at the structure. “Well, when Dad got better, he bought this property directly across from the pier’s entrance. He built us this house and then he began singing again. This time however it was Gryphonsong! He used to sit on that bench back there hidden behind the trees (so he wouldn’t scare anyone with his scars) and sing every night to the people walking by. But particularly he sang to those entering the pier. Gryphonsong and River water don’t mix too well. It tends to make those who drink the River feel nauseated, their packs and chains seem heavier, and their fear of anything wet grows immeasurably. People stopped entering the pleasure pier where they had to pay to feel bad and started standing around in the Road listening to the golden-voiced invisible bard who would make them feel good for no charge at all!

  “The owners of the pier were quite upset over the loss of their considerable profits and attempted all sorts of maneuvers to get Dad to stop singing, but to no avail! He had found his mission in life! He was singing softly, out of sight on his own property and not charging a single grain of sand for his service. The authorities were helpless to stop him. Eventually, people found their way through the trees and past my father’s scars to find Another, Greater One, who had also been scarred for their benefit. Eventually, also, the pleasure mongers deserted their unprofitable pier.”

  “What a victory!” exclaimed Jason with Gryphon’s pride in his voice. “Your father was able to undo some of the evil he had done earlier in his life and help many people in the process! You must have been very proud of him! But what’s in that old castle now? I saw the purple banners of a healer flying from the top.”

  “The banners are purple, but there are no healers under that roof!” snapped Nathan vehemently.

  “You almost sound like my GrandSire, he sure had some strong opinions, too,” Jason replied keeping his voice calm
and light.

  The bard suddenly looked embarrassed and lowered his eyes. Then he slowly pulled his narwhale sword halfway out of its sheath only to push it loudly back into place with the flat of his open hand on the end of the hilt: I HAVE OFFENDED. I AM SORRY. To the formal swordsign, he added verbally, “I’m sorry, Jason, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. What those people did to that place after my father died is a burden I will carry with me to the Gryphon’s Land. I roar like a Gryphon every time I come near this place or even think about it! The Swimmer has called me to other tasks or I would be sitting on a wooden bench every day singing to bring about the end of that place or at least to help its victims!... By the way, thank you for your compliment – that I sounded like Thaddeus; he was a man of strong convictions. If we had some more like him, places like that dock would never have been tolerated!”

  “But what are they doing there that is so bad? And why did you call that place a ‘dock’?”

  “A dock is a place where boats arrive or depart,” said Nathan cryptically. “Look at that young couple we will soon overtake. Discretely observe the woman as we pass. Her companion is escorting her from the dock where he brought her earlier this morning.”

  Their rapid pace soon brought them alongside the slow-moving pair and then swiftly beyond them out of the range of hearing. The unidentifiable woman had been wrapped head-to-toe in white gauze and leaned against her youthful male companion as though she barely had strength to walk. His treatment of her indicated to Jason that they were obviously close romantically and so probably of the same age. If Nathan had not given him a stern look, Jason would have offered his assistance to help ease her obvious pain. Something about his mentor’s demeanor triggered an unthinkable thought process in the young bard’s mind.

  Making sure to keep his voice from carrying, an incredulous Jason dared to ask, “Was she burned in the River?”

  Nathan kept his eyes straight ahead, yet Jason could see light reflecting from tears on his nearest cheek. Quietly the bard answered him with only two words, “Yes, deliberately!”

  “But, why? Why would a girl allow herself to be disfigured like that? You said your father’s scars were permanent! Isn’t that against the law?”

  Once again the bard paused as if weighing the value of each of his words. He sighed the sigh of one who is burdened with a too heavy pack before answering: “Girls... Women go to the dock to find a cure for something they call the ‘disease of inconvenience’. Society has taught them that this is its only cure and the champions at the head of the River have agreed. There is no penalty to the healer for administering the cure, only rewards. He is paid very well for his services either by the women themselves or by the champions who were supposed to be the women’s protectors.

  “The women are first tested to see if they have the ‘disease’, then if confirmed, they are placed in a scaline boat (actually a locking cage filled with small holes). Chains lower the boat down into the strongest part of the River until the solution purges away the woman’s ‘inconvenience’. The strong current draws it to the surface then flushes it away, thus its arrival and departure occur at the same instant. Many of the women fight and scream the whole way down, but the attendants are trained to turn deaf ears to their pleas. Back safely in the dock, the severely burned patient has healing ointments and bandages applied and then is sent on her way to make room for the next victim!”

  Jason, too, now felt like shouting a Gryphon’s roar, “They should be stopped!” he shouted in spite of the glances that it brought their way from passersby. “No disease could be worth all of that suffering to cure! This is a tragedy of epic proportions!”

  “No,” replied the still grieving bard, “the real tragedy is that the ‘disease of inconvenience’ is almost always preventable, is rarely if ever fatal, and is, in fact, the Gryphon’s blessing in disguise. Yet the Dragon has so deluded the people of this land that they see the Gryphon’s blessing as a curse and would rather choose a lifetime of scars than face the consequences of their choices!

  “Because of this, some women have chosen to be scarred more than once. It has become a thing of pride for them. They openly wear their burn marks as a badge of honor, a visible symbol of their freedom to choose their own destinies. Some deluded men have come to see these senseless brands as beauty marks! Other women, who are not so brazen, try to mask their scars with a lifetime of applied creams and powders. And quite a few will spend small fortunes taking weekly trips to the couches of professional cover-up artists.”

  Though his words were strong, tears continued to run freely down the face of the bard from Riverton.

  “Is there no hope for those who are scarred like this?” Jason asked softly, sharing his master’s tears. “Do the scars reach to that place inside; the part that can hear the Gryphon’s voice?”

  “In many they do. And this makes it very hard for them to hear. Yet in a few, that Voice wins through, but only through the personal intervention of The Swimmer. If they turn their eyes from their own scars and fix them on His, then they (like my father) can find healing. Only He who was scarred for them can lighten their packs. Only He can transform their scars into true beauty once again.

  “The only ray of hope in this whole hideous process is that those millions of discarded “inconveniences” are safely gathered by eagles, to never again have to face another single scheme, indignity, or hurt from the wicked Dragon. Defiled by others, but innocent of any offense, they are instantly transported into the loving arms of the Swimmer-Son who gladly welcomes them, not as inconveniences, but rather as full eternal citizens of His Father’s Land.”

  Nathan stood still, his overflowing tears making safe forward progress all but impossible.

  His ward stopped beside him and placed a comforting hand on the older bard’s shoulder, before quietly whispering, “You mean…?”

  ~ ~ ~

  Kaleb had never experienced anything like his wild journey through Dragonsback.

  At least not while I was awake! He thought, remembering with fresh hatred the false-robed lying bard who had knocked him unconscious during his first experience with dragonsbreath.

  The mechanical device they were sailing on was a marvel to him. Fashioned of scaline, wood, and cloth, the land-boat rolled through the tunnels on wheels instead of waves, driven forward by the dragonsbreath that pulsed back and forth through the passageways. The wind blew first one way, then the other. Back and forth. Back and forth.

  The ingenious device caught the wind in the sail when it was going in the direction they wanted to go, at the same time avoiding the backdraft that went the other way. A hinged sail and clacking one-way devices in the wheels (Raven had called them ‘ratchets’) were the solution. The cloth snapped open to catch the wind from behind but fluttered shut when the breeze changed direction. The wheels, fixed so they could only roll in one direction, were locked into grooves in the tunnel floor. The craft required little or no guidance unless they had to change to a different passage at one of the hubs.

  As the small two-man vessel shot along through the dark, Kaleb found his large companion silently locked in thought and wearing a grimace that he had come to recognize as a “Do Not Disturb, I’m Thinking” sign. So he began doing some thinking of his own.

  At first, he thought of ‘The Bard’, refusing to call him by name. He carefully pulled from his pack the large thorn that Raven had given to him. Though he did not know it, it rivaled another thorn named Samson in its size. Its potency was another matter. He thought only of the point, knowing little of the poison it would inflict.

  He did not unwrap the barb: his friend the giant had cautioned him not to. He just stood facing the oncoming wind and hefted the cloth-bound bundle like the weapon it was.

  Soon, Bard, he thought. Soon you will feel some of my pain! I will have no mercy on you!

  Back and forth went the wind.

  Kaleb replaced the thorn in his pack and allowed his thoughts to contemplate what had been happening t
o his brother.

  I must rescue him! Wait till he finds out all that’s been happening to me! I’ve got to tell him about Marvin! He’ll probably think this tunnel boat is incredible.

  Back and forth went the wind.

  Bet he’s never even imagined a place like this before.

  Yet even as he thought the words, Kaleb knew they were false. On their last day together as they rode the Flying Eagle down the coast of the Bay, they two had sat side by side on the wooden deck and shared some of their recent experiences. Jason had told him his dream from their first night in Scalina.

  Jase knew about this place and he’s never even been here. What had he said? That there were dragons in these caves?!

  THE GREAT GAMES

  “I’m a bit confused,” Jason confided. “I understand the concept of competition among athletes for grand prizes. It makes sense that the sponsors of the contest would want to gather the best of the best from all over the land to participate in these challenges every four years. It also seems absolutely fair that the overall champion of the Games should get the best prize… But you say that the winner of the Great Games gets to rule the Heartland until the next time the games are run? Is that really the best way to select a leader?”

  “It sure beats having someone for a leader whose only achievement is the chance happening of being born to ‘royal’ parents!” Nathan laughed at his student’s innocent confusion. “Besides, winning the games takes much more than just physical strength and athletic prowess. Just like a ship captain guiding his craft to safe harbor, a true champion must ‘captain’ a monumental effort involving many, many people. You see, it is not just the one or two ‘visible’ people who are actively involved in the winning; the prize of championship is always a team effort. Unlike the events in other lands, the Great Games, as a rule, are not spectator sports. The support of his people is literally a champion’s true strength.