The Dragon's Back Trilogy

by Robert Dennis Wilson

  Jason sensed that his friend’s uncharacteristically somber words held some deeper meaning or warning and was about to question him further when something moving toward them along the new road arrested his attention.

  “What, under the Gryphon’s blue sky is that? I think it’s a man (at least it looks something like one), but what is he wearing and why?”

  Nathan laughed at Jason’s expression, but the sadness in his voice as he responded made a lie of the laughter, “I forgot you’ve never been to a big city before. That,” he said, indicating the approaching oddity with a nod of his head, “is a prime example of a good idea gone very bad. They call it an ‘encounter suit’. Originally designed as a kind of body armor to protect its wearer from the violence of the city, it has now become much more!”

  In his studies, Jason remembered seeing drawings of the native dress of the Couvian people who lived above Lake LaCou on the frigid northern slopes of Dragonsback. They were forced by their harsh climate to cover themselves from head to toe in voluminous animal skins in order to survive from day to day. Yet this man waddling toward them appeared more insulated than any Couvian, and this in the noon-day heat of the River Valley!

  Completely covered in a thick, nondescript gray cloth-like mass, only his eyes were visible, peering out of a narrow shaded cave near the top of the mountain of “armor”. Another opening in the approximate location of the man’s mouth remained securely shut.

  Those two shiny black orbs, his only contact with the outside world, shifted uneasily as if in fear as the two bards approached. The man moved to the far edge of the road and quickly passed the strangers without word or sign of greeting. If it were not so strange, the sight would have been humorous: the man, trying to hurry in his cumbersome garment, teetered back and forth and actually shook as he scurried by.

  Jason politely waited several moments before whispering to his mentor, “Won’t that man suffocate in that heavy suit? I’m warm wearing only my tunic and breeches!”

  Nathan shook his head sadly, “No, he’ll be fine in there. The first suits, back a few years ago weren’t so heavy and cumbersome, but that one’s a newer model. Its middle layer’s filled with River water to keep the wearer cool even on the hottest day. That way the suit can be worn all the time. As you may suspect, it’s quite a chore to get in or out of that artificial shell. A growing number of those who have chosen to put on the suits, don’t take them off even within the protection of their own homes!”

  “I thought it was bad enough that a man had to carry a waterskin filled with poison, but now the waterskin is carrying the man! He’s gotta’ be poisoned by that much contact with the River! And besides, if he’s hidden in that thing, how can a wife or child make sure the right man has entered their house? Or how can someone even recognize their friends and tell them apart from their enemies? Isn’t that kind of dangerous?”

  The bard chuckled, commenting, “Oh, to have the fresh exuberance of a youthful viewpoint! Of course, you are right, it does become difficult. That is why a man who sports an encounter suit usually provides one for each of his family members as well. That way they can be protected, too, and never have to worry about danger from contact with strangers, or neighbors, or brothers and sisters! They’re protected from the world and from each other. Each suit is virtually self-sufficient, or so the owners boast!”

  “But,” and Jason paused, embarrassment coloring his cheeks, “if they never take off their shells, what do they do with their... with their wastes?”

  “Oh, the new suits are so well constructed that they handle all of that automatically, converting them into greater protection for the wearer!”

  “How disgusting!” Jason replied, shuttering with revulsion at the thought. “I can tell by your tone that you don’t approve of the suits even though their original purpose seemed like a good one. I bet I know why! Someone wrapped up in an encounter suit can’t feel the Gryphonsbreath unless it blasts him right between the eyes!”

  “Exactly! (And sometimes, not even then.) Do you remember what you saw in your shellbowl the first time you saw yourself?”

  “I was exposed and surrounded by flying shadows!”

  “The shadows don’t have to fly if a person wears a suit! Your own healing came because you were willing to let the Gryphon see you as you really are. These people attempt to hide that not only from the world and the Gryphon but also from themselves!”

  Jason thought about the warm reception he had received at the hands of his Swimmer family wherever they had traveled. With sadness in his voice, he asked, “But how can they get to know each other and help each other or meet anyone’s needs?”

  “It all goes back to what I call the ‘STOVE principle’,” answered the bard.

  “The ‘stove principle’?”

  “Yes, a stove is a stationary object that only functions as it is acted on by others. To a stove’s perspective, if it could reason and think, all those creatures around him exist for his benefit. They bring him fuel, they clean him, and they come to him to get their food heated. Many men are like hardened scaline stoves; anything outside of themselves is but an object graded by the way that it affects their existence. In this self-imposed world of isolationism, the letters of the word ‘STOVE’ describe concentric rings, circles of impersonal objects and their relationship to self, the man who is their hardened center.

  “‘S’, the first and inner-most ring, describes those people who are closest to the man in the middle: they are seen as ‘Shelter’ and exist (in his perspective) for the man’s comfort. In the second ring, ‘T’, are those individuals he uses as ‘Tools’ to help him accomplish his ends. Next are ‘Obstacles’, people who must be overcome because their goals are different than or inferior to his own. (These he sees as rungs in the ladder of his success, to be climbed over and trodden-down to aid his own advancement.) ‘V’ stands for ‘Vermin’, these, because they cannot in any way further his upward progress, are viewed as people of contempt, annoyances to be ignored or crushed and walked on at his convenience. And finally, ‘E’ stands for ‘Enemies’, those who openly oppose him. This outermost ring, filled with objects of hatred and potential danger, first prompted our stove to put on his hardened exterior. Now he uses his shell to control all of the objects around him, even those who tend his fire and keep him clean.”

  As they walked and talked, Jason considered these things. He also noted that the buildings they passed seemed narrower and more filled with shadows. People were everywhere, most of them in encounter suits of one sort or another. Muffled noises of people, carts, and animals filled the air with a constant buzz that he found disconcerting. Walking through the faceless crowd, Jason felt under-dressed and exposed, oddly out of place in this alien environment.

  Overhead a network of pipes or tubes, some fashioned of scaline, but most of hollow River reeds joined together with black pitch, connected one tall building to the next. Bright, multi-colored banners marked with strange symbols hung from the windows overhead or from the darkened doorways.

  As he walked along in stunned silence trying to absorb the new and intriguing sights, sounds, and smells that assaulted his senses, Jason was suddenly and roughly shoved sideways.

  “Look out! Don’t walk there!” a voice shouted from nearby.

  Startled, the young bard spun in the direction of his attacker only to find Nathan standing there pointing anxiously over Jason’s head toward a thin pipe of black scaline that dripped a heavy dark liquid down on the cobbled street.

  “What? Why?” Jason managed to stutter in his confusion, rubbing a sore left shoulder tenderly with his right hand.

  “I’m sorry I had to push you so hard,” apologized the bard, “but you were in danger. That’s a mainstreamer’s pipe overhead, pulling in venom from the center of the River! One drop could have burned you severely. The appetites of some in this place are such that they disdain the water of their ’skins and have become addicted to the blissful numbness that comes from the poison
in the pipes! They are willing to pay almost any price, financial or physical, to live the living death of the mainstreamer.”

  “I’ve heard it said,” commented the younger bard, “that men will add stronger water to their ‘skins to change the taste and increase the amount it can hold, but you’re telling me that these people drink straight River water and live?”

  “If you can call what they do ‘life’, then I suppose so,” replied Nathan. “Actually they are living in the realm of the dragons more than in real life as we know it. You already know that regular diluted River water is strong enough to poison this whole land and everyone who is born here. It also affects the minds of those who drink it so they don’t know that it’s making them sick...”

  “If that’s what the weak stuff can do, then that junk from the middle of the River must be totally blinding the minds of those mainstreamers!”

  “Exactly! And all the while they feed their minds on the water the dragons are free to feed on those same minds. They think using it takes away their problems, but the only thing that has been taken away is their ability to clearly see that their problems are growing worse and worse!”

  “You’d think the government would get involved and make a law against using that kind of poison!”

  “Oh, there are laws against its use, but the politics of money often gets in its way of any policy of compassion. As I said, some people will pay almost anything for a sip of raw water! In Sinsinatti, money can buy you anything you ever wanted and didn’t need!”

  “But surely all these pipes can’t be leading from the center of the River,” Jason asked, staring over his head and spinning around until he made himself dizzy. “The sky is so thick with them here, it looks like a huge trellis overhead connecting all the buildings. There must be at least one or more pipes going into each of the buildings we have passed and some have whole clusters attached!”

  The bard laughed and reached out to steady his tottering pupil. Jason rejoiced to see his master’s dark mood lifting.

  “Well, Jason,” Nathan commented, “there are pipes and then there are pipes. Some of these are carrying waste into the homes and some are carrying it out. Most of it smells the same to me anymore, so I find it hard to tell which is which. I think those living on the inside must have the same trouble!” So saying, he scrunched up his face and pinched shut his nose with his fingers as if trying to avoid a very unpleasant odor.

  Jason laughed at his mentor’s comical expression, but finding fresh insight in it, felt compelled to ask, “You really don’t like this city, do you? Is it because the people here are not content with the inexhaustible poison they carry in their ‘skins, but have to add to it more and more each day?”

  Jason saw sadness settle back into Nathan’s eyes like a dark curtain being drawn over a lighted window and almost he wished he hadn’t asked his questions.

  “No, not every pipe leads to the center of the River for the mainstreamers. The pipes can lead to any channel: each household or place of business has to decide what they will or will not allow to enter. And not every pipe you see carries River poison, son, but for the most part, you are right. We have developed into a society where whole families never speak to each other. They simply lay next to each other on their couches, wide awake, and suck on one of these milder tubes of the Dragon’s poison. There they lay, connected to their favorite channel of the River, riding the rapids from the comfort of their homes. All the while the flow of the River is free to wash away their dreams and fill the empty essence of their lives with a counterfeit sense of accomplishment. Much good that could have been done is lost forever, washed out of their unsuspecting hands, and carried downstream beyond their reach. This happens even among those who name the Gryphon as their own! I am convinced that the bottom of the River is paved with gems sucked away from Swimmers’ final crowns! The wasted potential is staggering! To top that off, I have even heard of parents who use the tubes to suckle their children into a stupor so they don’t have to spend as much effort raising them!”

  Jason saw that the little spark that had been his question had unleashed a forest fire in his friend; and, though he shared the passionate anger of his teacher (for the words he had heard described a terrible wickedness), yet he longed for Nathan’s smile, not his righteous anger vented at something Jason had never experienced. He caught on one phrase that he had heard and used it as a hinge to turn the conversation.

  “You said that not every pipe carries poison?…”

  Nathan did smile then. It was as though the angry wind had suddenly been snatched from his sails and he found himself becalmed in the lee of another question. “You know, you are learning to do that quite well, master Jason. Keep it up and you’ll someday be able to charm butter out of cows without having to churn it!”

  They both laughed at each other, drawing sideward glances from passersby. The young bard soon observed in those he watched that it is apparently not easy to accomplish anything sidewards in an encounter suit. One man almost ran into a pole trying to watch them without looking like he was. This, too, added to their humor.

  Later, as they walked, Nathan commented, “Your GrandSire also had such a way with questions. That was one of the things I loved most about him. I needed your reminder and this remembrance of him to lift my mind out of this valley. Thank you for seeing my need. Now as far as your question…

  “What you said is true: some of the pipes don’t carry River water, but rather the dew of the morning in limited supplies. Faithful men and women living in the mountains act as freshwater gatherers for those in the cities. Though the Gryphon’s dew does fall here in the city (as it does everywhere above ground on Dragonsback) the dewcatcher plants are few and there are many people who cannot or will not make the effort to find them. To these the dew-gatherers send their daily gifts, finding in their acts of kindness a purpose and calling: warring against the Dragon by strengthening their brothers and sisters living in the cities.”

  “You mean they send it for free?!” asked Jason, the surprise evident in his voice. “It takes me enough effort just to gather dew to meet the needs of only one or two people. To supply a whole city they must have to kill themselves! Why would anyone work so hard for nothing? They must really love the Gryphon! Even bard’s law says that we should be given food and lodging for our efforts.”

  “Well, son, though their task is large, it is not undoable. Sadly, they are not supplying the whole city; that’s why there are so many of the other tubes in the sky over our heads. And those who use the dew-tubes can’t possibly get enough from them to meet all their needs. As for working for free: some of the gatherers do; many ask those they supply to voluntarily recompense them according to the Gryphon’s leading, not setting a particular fee; but then there are others… A few of the gatherers are unscrupulous, mixing small rocks in with their liquid which have threatening demands for payment scratched on them in tiny letters. They say things like ‘Give us our due so you can get yours!’ or ‘Bless us or you won’t get blessed’! As though the Gryphon’s blessings depended solely on them and not on the Giver!”

  Jason, hardly believing what he was hearing, shook his head and sadly commented, “The poor people on the receiving end would have to screen what comes through the tube just to get a little mouthful to drink! That doesn’t sound fair to me. The Gryphon gives the dew freely to all who seek it. Even if it takes an effort to gather, I think it is wrong to fill the tubes with indigestible rocks! Anyhow, doesn’t mixing the dew with scaline weaken it and turn it bitter?”

  “You’re right as usual! It’s hard to tell some of it from River water!”

  “But what about the good dew? Doesn’t it lose its potency in the tubes? Especially if it has to travel any time or distance?” Jason enjoyed these discussions with his friend. The more questions he could find to ask, the happier and more contented the bard seemed to be. It appeared to the young man that Nathan thrived on shedding light in dark places. Maybe, Jason surmised, that’s why
he became a bard in the first place!

  “Your point is well taken,” answered the man, a beard-shrouded smile accompanying his words, “but you already know that dew that is given away becomes stronger than dew that is kept. This is one of the Gryphon’s wonders and it applies to the dew in the tubes as well. Yet, in spite of that, piped dew never fully satisfies. Part of the strengthening that comes with the dew is derived from the effort it takes on our part to find it!”

  “That’s one thing I do know!” responded Jason with growing excitement. “The greater the search, the sweeter the taste! And the flowers hidden on the high cliffs are better yet!”

  “It is from those very plants, hidden in the heights, that the best of the dew-gatherers find their supply. Because the source is sweet and strong, the liquid remains vibrant and pure even after having trickled all the way down to this valley. But what of you? Do you not realize that you have been chosen to be a dew-gatherer as well? This is the calling of all true bards. If we are to fulfill the needs of those we meet we must be well supplied in all things. This is part of a bard’s daily discipline. So you must learn to always gather extra each morning, lest you come up short: not for your own need, but for someone else.”

  “But what of those that give too much away? Can someone starve themselves trying to feed others?”

  “As you said earlier, the Gryphon gives the dew freely to us, so we should give it freely to others, regardless of any personal costs. This is bard’s law: he that gives his dew away will always find his ‘skin less empty than when he started!”

  “Does everyone on Dragonsback have access to the dew, if they want it?

  “The dew falls fresh every morning, yet in some places, lands of drought, where the dragons rule through oppressive and wicked men. In those places, the land has been deliberately stripped of all dewcatcher plants. In these areas, pure dew is a rare and precious thing.”