“Kaleb… It’s real!” Jason managed to say between sobs. The youth slowly moved forward toward that dark place of dreams, the others moving with him. The fitful breeze pulling at their hair and garments also haunted their ears with a whistling moan caused as it passed between the shattered column and the remaining proofs of its fall.
“Yes, I guess it is,” responded Kaleb weakly, unable to hide the incredulity from his voice. “I don’t know how, but it is.”
“What’s the matter, son? An’ what’s ‘real’ that’s got y’ so upset?” asked an obviously concerned Thaddeus, still leaning on Jason’s arm.
When Jason did not immediately respond, Kaleb offered quietly, “This place is a place of nightmares,” and then stopped, turning his back on the scene to face his three companions. Deliberately and protectively he gripped with both hands Jason’s shoulders, seeking eye contact with his sibling before he would continue.
Meeting that gaze, at last, the young apprentice bard raised his chin, almost defiantly, then taking a deep sigh, he nodded ever so slightly, granting his older brother his consent. That nod released a vow of promised silence that would have hidden forever Jason’s pain and the significance of this place.
Only after receiving that silent permission did Kaleb offer further explanation. Stuttering at first, his words grew in intensity as he spoke them, “Since… Since that day… ten years ago. This place (and we’ve never been here before) has haunted my brother’s sleep. Every night in his dreams he was drawn here to this very spot. Every night his cries would wake me as black dragons with glowing eyes would tear into his flesh and drag him screaming over the edge of that cliff!” Kaleb released his grip on his brother to first point at the darkening chasm to his left and then thrust his pointing finger accusingly into his GrandSire’s face. His voice had risen in anger-fed power until now his shouted words fell like arrows from heaven. “This is a dark and cursed place! If you, old man, love your grandson at all you will take him from here at once!”
Kaleb’s harsh words overflowed from a crashing sea of emotion that churned within his heart. Fear for his brother’s safety and fear for the sanity of his own world (now that he knew that “the Place” was real) became the surging waves that scoured any land toughing that troubled inland sea. But even greater forces swept that sea, tearing at it as though driven by the inescapable pull of opposing planets, eroding the boundaries of his mind like massive tides tearing through restricted channels. Ever moving, never at rest; on the one side stood the unresolved guilt and anger caused by his parents’ death. On the other, a deep burning need for love that he could never express.
Hate and defiance raged through the young man’s eyes, burning toward that withered old man as though he were the cause of all the world’s woes.
Yet the old carver did not respond in kind. Love rather than anger filled his words. Suddenly Thaddeus changed before their eyes. The startling transformation caused Kaleb to step backward in sudden bewilderment.
The master carver seemed to instantly take on new strength and stature. Like an empty skin filled to bursting with new wine or a parched flower touched by water, the old man rose to his full height. Shaking off his weakness and the arms that held him, for a moment his face sparkled with the joy and wonder of life. He spoke and his words were no longer slurred with the Heartlander’s draw or the discomfiture of age but were clear and sure with the confident exuberance of youth.
“As you have said,” confided the powerful white-haired man before them, “this is a place of darkness, a place of cursing. A terrible and dark deed was done here long ago. This place, the top of the Dragon’s head, truly has been named the Dilemma Plateau for on these two horns rest the fate of every soul on Dragonsback. Yet blessing also fills this place. There is only one curse here! A terrible and ancient curse that has fallen and will fall on the Dragon’s head! Yet because of the One who broke that horn, this place has become as well the Place of Gifts, the High Ground of Promises. Here lies in chain-broken stone the Proof of all that’s real! Fear, not my sons! Fear not the Dragon beneath our feet! Look to the One who broke that horn and you never need fear again! Look to the One who bruised the Dragon’s head, for in doing this He has also broken the Dragon’s power! He alone can and will set you free if you but let him!”
But then, as though the flower had been surrounded by burning brands or the wineskin pierced by a sharpened dagger, Thaddeus collapsed, withering down into a broken shell of the man that once had been.
Terrible spasmodic coughs tore the breath from his lungs. Tumbling to the ground so quickly that neither of his former supporters could catch him, he clutched at his chest as though Kaleb’s formerly flaming eyes had finally found their mark.
“GrandSire!” Kaleb heard his younger brother scream. Jason and Nathan rushed downward to aid the fallen man but Kaleb remained frozen, unable to move. Nor could he for several moments; he had been taken totally off guard by the too swift double transformation of this enigmatic Swimmer.
“The Gryphon’s callin’ me!” he heard the old man say.
Those whispered words broke the paralysis that had gripped him. Free at last Kaleb, joined the others on their knees above the white-haired man. Startled, he hardly recognized the specter that awaited him. The face that had seemed so ruddy with life only moments before now wore the pallor of cold ashes swept from the bottom of a heating stove.
“What does that mean? What’s the Gryphon want?” Kaleb demanded.
Thaddeus opened his eyes and looked up at his oldest grandson. Kaleb saw they were filled with pain as deep as the ocean and with tiredness as big as the sky, but no fear.
“It means I’m dying,” whispered the old carver.
Kaleb heard his brother catch his breath, breathe a denial, and then start to cry again. He, himself, felt awash in a universe of confusing, warring feelings and thoughts, but uttered not a sound. What did he feel toward this man? Love? Hate? Nothing at all? Fear of being alone again!
I don’t know! His raging mind shouted in reply. What’s happening? Why is he leaving me again?
“Father,” said Nathan, the bard, gently cradling the white head in his arm, “is there something we can do for you?”
“Yes… there’s… little time,” came the barely discernible response. “Kaleb… son… please, take off my pack.”
Sensing the urgency in those words, Kaleb scurried to comply, scooting backward to make a place to set the leather-bound parcel in front of him, next to his GrandSire. He allowed the action to settle his seething thoughts and tried to focus on whatever would happen next.
“Open the pack.”
Kaleb froze, again locked in paradoxical conflict. The law of the land clearly forbade the opening of someone else’s pack. A man or woman hid their deepest darkest secrets under those dark leather bindings. It was the keeping place of thorns and dream-makers and binding chains: inner things that ought never to be shared with another. Yet… He had been instructed to open his GrandSire’s pack in the presence of its owner!
“Have no fear, lad… I’ve no secrets t’ keep from any of you… The Gryphon’s already lightened m’ pack.”
This old man’s starting to lose his mind! Kaleb’s thoughts were not being disrespectful, only stating facts as he saw them. There’s no Gryphon here. There’s not a single Gryphon on all of Dragonsback. He must be seeing things!
Despite his feelings, Kaleb’s nimble fingers went about their task and soon the contents of the leather satchel lay exposed to the entire world.
Several small cloth-wrapped bundles, a piece of flattened bark with some thin charcoal wands bound to it, an ancient wooden box (two hands long by one hand wide and about three fingers thick), a change of clothing, and a seashell bowl attached to a narrow leather thong were the only items revealed!
He holds no thorns! Kaleb’s eyes raced over this life laid bare while his thoughts accused those eyes of lying. This old man’s son lies murdered and unavenged in the depths of the Se
a, yet he holds no thorns in his pack? What kind of man is this? There is no moss, no secret chains. He carries not a drachma in scaline coin. How did he live? How could he live like this?
But the old man’s whispering broke into his thoughts, “Kaleb, eldest son of my only child… My father’s father an’ all that followed have carvers been… I meant t’ train y’ myself… but that'll never be… Maybe somewhere, sometime ye’ll find somun t’ teach y’ proper. T’ you… I give the tools o’ m’ life… The wooden box holds my knives and chisels, … the drawin’ bark wipes clean an, is used fer makin’ patterns, the two… small bundles hold samples of m’ work… Take them, they are yours… I wish… I wish I could exchange them for the thorns y’ carry… But each man mus’ bear ‘is own… I only hope…”
A hacking spasm of coughing interrupted the old man's speech. He gripped his chest even tighter cringing in pain until the fit passed, then waited till he had recovered his breath before speaking again.
He has no thorns of his own, thought Kaleb more confused than ever, but now he wants to take mine? What good would they do him? I will never understand this old man even if I live to be as old as him!
“I hope that someday… someday ye’ll be able t’ find the Gryphon… Or to let Him find you! Then maybe ye’ll be able t’ face the man you hate… without a thorn in your hand.”
Never! By the Dragon that will never happen!
Fire burned in Kaleb’s eyes once more. He picked up the offered items and turned away from his GrandSire in stony silence.
The old carver gave a sigh that spoke volumes about his aching heart yet Kaleb did not turn back to ease that pain. The recalcitrant youth did watch surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye to see what would transpire next.
“Jason?” called Thaddeus at last.
“Yes, GrandSire, I am here,” replied the youth scooting closer to the prone figure. Kaleb heard the mixed fear and sadness in his brother’s quiet response.
“Son, ye’ have set your feet on a path… on a great adventure… Soon ye’ll know the reason for the gifts I give… Guard ‘em till y’ do… First of all, I give y’ my song which y’ heard me sing. Take it with y’ … an’ learn it’s meanin’. Like it says, I give y’ the “Water an’ the Sword!”
They waited while another fit wracked the old man’s lungs. Kaleb thought he saw tears flowing from the carver’s eyes but he couldn’t be sure without turning again.
“Jason, take my ‘skin, the skin of adoption. Let Nathan… fill it for you each mornin’ till y’ learn… t’ do it yerself. I know y’ don’t know the Gryphon yet… But I trust y’ will someday real soon… Take m’ sword, carved by m’ own hand. Wear it proudly… Listen t’ Nathan… He can teach y’ how t’ use it.”
Another fit, longer and more severe than the last, came and went.
“Take also my shell bowl… Already y’ have seen its gift. Learn t’ see it well… Jason, above all else, learn the Gryphonsong! … There’s no other song more worth the singin’.”
“GrandSire?” asked Jason and Kaleb could hear the tears in his voice. “I… I will learn the Gryphon’s songs, but what is the gift that I am supposed to have seen? How will I recognize it again?”
Kaleb saw a short-lived smile break across his GrandSire’s ashen face as he replied, “Keep askin’ questions. Keep askin’ yer questions… Ye’ll find out soon enough.”
Thaddeus struggled to lift both of his hands off of his chest, but the effort only produced another chest-gripping spasm. Finally, when it finally ended, the old carver managed to accomplish the monumental task.
“Jason… Nathan… each of you give me yer hand…”
From opposite sides, teacher and student each gripped the trembling hand closest to him.
Thaddeus smiled and brought the two hands together so that the strong hand of the bard rested over top of that of Kaleb’s brother.
That one action tore into Kaleb like a spear piercing his heart.
An involuntary gasp escaped his lips.
Pain, like a gushing fountain, poured from that inner wound. Kaleb wanted to scream, but instead, clenched his jaw and gave no other outward sign of his feelings.
No!! You’re giving my brother to that stranger! the angry words shouted in his mind.
To a Swimmer! How can you do this, you old fool? I hate you! I will always hate you! Isn’t there anyone better in all the world to leave him with? Not a Swimmer!
He slightly turned his head to focus two burning weapons of destruction on the object of his anger. But those unaffecting eyes saw instead Jason kneeling over the form of the old man, clinging to him. The cursed Gryphonskin, the brand of a Swimmer, hung openly from the young man’s neck.
Die, old man! Die!! Kaleb seethed to himself.
Look at what you’ve done! You’re trying to turn my brother into a murderin’ Swimmer! Almost… Almost I wish you’d never come for us! At least Jason and I would have stayed together. At least he wouldn’t have that skin around his neck!
Dark shadows swirled through his vision. Abruptly Kaleb stood to his feet and walked away.
Moments later a touch on his shoulder startled the angry youth.
Spinning around, he lashed out at the unknown intruder, only to catch himself mid-stroke. His elbow brushed his brother’s tear-stained face, but his fist and forearm were retracted and did no harm.
“Oh, Jase, I’m sorry!” Kaleb said with true remorse ringing in his words. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know it was you.”
“It’s all right. You didn’t hurt me,” replied the youth in a voice barely above a whisper.
Kaleb did see hurt etched into that familiar face but knew instinctively that it came from within, not from his glancing blow. Unconquered Fear bound his brother like a fetter.
Without realizing how or why he did it, Kaleb found himself embracing his brother. The two clung to each other for a long moment, seeking and giving comfort.
At last Jason whispered, “He’s dying, Kaleb. He asked me to leave him so he could talk to Nathan one last time… Kaleb, don’t let it end this way. Don’t let him die feelin’ your anger.” Jason had pushed himself away far enough to raise pleading eyes at his brother.
Those dark, innocent eyes, marred now with sorrow and loss and emptiness, moved Kaleb as nothing else in life could.
A decision made, he turned to take a deliberate step in his GrandSire’s direction. But in that instant, the carver gave a deep protracted sigh and then closed his eyes. Neither filled with hopelessness nor exhaustion, that sigh sounded instead to Kaleb like the contented, restful sigh a worker might make as he finally sat down, having successfully completed a challenging and lengthy task. The old man’s face echoed the same sentiments, for a smile rested on his lips and peace crowned his brow and smoothed his ancient features.
Nathan, the bard, bowed his head in apparent sadness. Silently he laid his friend back down on the ground. Empty, the once-living wineskin would hold sweet nectar no more.
Too late, Kaleb walked closer. Bending down, he briefly and gently touched the old man’s lifeless forehead in farewell.
Giving place to the bard, Kaleb retreated several steps to stand once more next to his brother. He could think of nothing to say, so instead placed a comforting hand on Jason’s shoulder.
Together they silently watched Nathan bind their GrandSire’s body with cloth torn from the old man’s extra tunic.
Kaleb felt his brother shutter and heard his soft sobs. He, himself, did not know what to think or feel. Contradictory thoughts and clashing emotions used him as their battlefield. Like the ground beneath a battle, he bore its scars in stoic silence.
Nathan picked up the bundle that had been Thaddeus the carver and slowly walked to the edge of the chasm. They now stood on the top of Dragonshead, well past both tower and town. Hundreds of manheights below him, hidden in shadow, lay the bottomless depths of the Sea. Here, whether through passage down the River to its mouth or through direct insertion in th
e waves, lay the final resting place of all the dead of Dragonsback.
The rich bass voice of the bard cracked as he spoke, “Farewell, my friend and father. For you, the Gryphon’s prints are clearer now. It has been your desire to walk with Him. Now, at last, you shall. Farewell.”
Then he slowly opened his arms one at a time and the cloth-bound bundle disappeared, feet first, down into the shadows.
Jason took a sudden step forward, reached out with his hands, and uttered one word, “GrandSire!”
Protectively, Kaleb matched his brother’s step and reclaimed his grip on the now stationary shoulder.
His task done, Nathan bowed his head and stood as silent as a statue for a long time.
~ ~ ~
Though copious tears marred his vision, Jason would always contend that he saw something very different from his brother.
When Nathan released the body, instead of it falling from sight, it stood upright! Thaddeus, unbound and alive, stood beyond the edge of the Dragon, on nothing!
Jason wanted to rub his eyes and clear his sight but feared that the action might destroy the vision of this man he loved.
Unable to contain himself, the youth took an excited step toward the edge, raised his hands in an offered embrace, and spoke that name, “GrandSire!”
In response, the figure drew a sword from his side. Not a piece of carved bone, this fiery blade shown with a light to rival the sun! Quickly the sword-wielder swept the blade back and forth sideways, then up and down. DANGER! STOP!
Then the white-robed man knelt and raised the blade in front of him by its burning hilt. I AM ON QUEST.
Beaming a smile at his youngest grandson, a youthful and vibrant Thaddeus rose, turned, and walked away from Dragonsback, supported only by a bridge of air.
~ ~ ~
Twilight fought to claim the rose-colored western clouds when at last Nathan broke his silent vigil. Stripping off his pack, the bard unslung his lute. Rising, he stood once more on the very edge of Dragonshead. Then, like a messenger calling out to someone far away, he sang his farewell into the eastern darkness.
The Dragon's Back Trilogy Page 16
