At first, the rustic harshness of those mingled but untrained voices grated on Jason’s musical ears. Someone definitely sang slightly off-tune.
But a sun-warmed breath from the Sea reminded Jason of that other Breath he had recently experienced. Chided by that memory, he listened to the song with new ears. And the Gryphonsbreath touched him anew with fresh insight.
These songs were sung without any instruments. Their purpose was not to entertain. These were words from the heart, love songs to the Gryphon. The most important thing about this song was not the notes, nor the word, nor how it was sung. The blending of the voices, high, low, gruff, polished, or slightly sour had to be the focus. The purpose would never be the quality of the song, but rather the blending: a particular sound that only this group could duplicate, unique in all of the world and in all of time. This song belonged to them for without each combined voice it would have been lessened or changed in some way. Other Sharings would also sing, but each would have its own song.
With new understanding and joy springing from within, Jason also joined the chorus, adding his sweet tenor to bolster the heartfelt efforts of each of his companions. And so Jason sang his new song before the fisherfolk of the Sea. Not as a solo, to glorify a man, but as a minute part of a greater whole: majestic and glorious as it uplifted One greater than them all.
Then the song ended. The ringing echoes faded away. Bereft of the oneness and belonging the song had invoked, Jason felt a quiet empty sadness in its place.
But the time of Sharing had only just begun. Jason watched as the sacred ritual unfolded around him. First, each individual quietly rose one by one to pass beyond the circle. In humbled silence, they walked to that place where the waves touched the Dragon. There he or she emptied out the contents of their personal family waterskins. Then each, in turn, went to the far back of the cove where… To Jason’s surprise, he saw what appeared to be a small garden of the rare dewcatcher plants.
These he had recently learned were the instruments the Gryphon used to catch and supply the fresh Dew of the Morning to His children. The broad upper leaves of the plants funneled the heavy dew that fell each morning to a single pitcher-shaped blossom lower on the stalk.
Each of the residents of Haven carefully poured out the residue from his or her Gryphonskin in a way that watered the garden and then filled the 'skin of adoption afresh with the Gryphon’s sweet bounty before returning to his place in the circle.
As he had been instructed Jason endeavored to duplicate what he saw. Walking to the edge of the Dragon and facing those dark waves felt like the hardest thing that he had ever done in his life. (Harder even than opening his pack in a sunlit field.)
Next, each one took out his or her shellbowl and polished it clean. Then, taking their freshly filled skins of adoption marked with the golden Gryphon, they each poured a small amount of the dew of the morning into their newly cleansed shell. Quietly then, they each reflected into their own bowls in the growing light of the dawn. At some point one or the other of them would set their bowl down and go place his hand on the shoulder of another in the circle; the two would then go out of earshot, kneel down and open their packs. Any thorns that were found would be cast into the sea; the two would embrace and then rejoin the group.
Jason saw only an image of himself in his bowl. The naked young man reflected there still bore reddened scars on his back.
How can the Gryphon love me? silently pleaded the scarred man. I still wear the brands of my hatred. I hated You for taking my parents away from me. I hated You because we were locked away in the Orphanage. I even hated You for taking away my GrandSire after he finally found us again. Gryphon, how can you love someone like me when I’ve hated You so much?
It’s true, I don’t hate You anymore. Is there hope in that? Do you really do more than take away thorns? Can You take my scars as well? Forgive me, Mighty Gryphon! Forgive me!
The teardrops that fell into his unprotected shell did little to hide the image of a man who still bore his scars.
The movement around him had all subsided when Jason heard a woman softly call Nathan’s name, “Nathan, Master Bard of Riverton and Voice of the Heartland, will you please sing a song for us before we Share? Will you sing the ‘Song of the Servant Swimmer’?”
“Human titles have no place within the circle, my sister,” whispered the bard with only the slightest hint of rebuke in his voice. “But this servant of the Servant will gladly do as you bid.”
Then without accompaniment, as befitted this place, Nathan lifted up his rich bass voice in song. Sadness kissed the haunting melody as its minor key filled the enclave with softly echoed harmonies:
“Have this mind in you
Which was in the Swimmer too,
In Gryphon’s form, he did exist,
But for his rights did not insist.
As a Servant, He came down
And in man’s form was He found:
He humbled Himself, He did obey,
Though death, death in the Stream was the way.
So the Gryphon did lift Him up,
Gave Him a name of matchless worth,
That at His name each knee
Should bow and touch the earth:
And in Gryphonsland, Dragon, and Sea
Every tongue and voice should agree
That the Gryphon’s living Son
Is Lord of all.
So the Gryphon did lift Him up,
Gave Him a name of matchless worth,
That at His name each knee
Should bow and touch the earth:
And in Gryphonsland, Dragon, and Sea,
Every tongue and voice should agree
That the Gryphon’s living Son
Is Lord of all. *22
When silence again ruled the sacred cove of the fishermen, each member of the circle leaned forward and poured the contents of his or her bowl into the Great Shell that itself formed the center of their circle. After the waters were co-mingled, all drew closer to the Shell of communion, rose to their knees, and, kneeling down, reflected together. As they worshipped in this way, to Jason's amazed eyes, a living image of the Gryphon’s Son (as a huge Gryphon himself) appeared, first mirrored in the reflection, then, taking form and rising, in the air above the Shell. The sudden manifestation of the image filled Jason with a terrible dread. The young man trembled as he watched the mighty Gryphon. He seemed to speak something in turn to each member of the circle, but no one else could hear anything but their own message.
As He turned to each one in the circle, drawing closer to Jason, fear gripped the young man. He had never met with the Gryphon before, face to face. Would he be acceptable? After all, he had carried the Dragon’s thorns for a long time and still bore the Dragon’s scars! He could not bear to look but bowed his head instead.
“Jason, my son, you do not need to fear Me,” came the Voice, gentle as his all-but-forgotten mother’s kiss, but at the same time, deep and as powerful as continents on the move.
“Jason, open your eyes and behold your King!” That awe-inspiring Voice filled him, compelled him. Trembling, the young bard obeyed.
Slowly he raised his eyes until at last, his fearful gaze touched, then fell into the infinite depths of those dark, love-filled orbs. Then he saw himself, reflected back: he knelt within the Gryphon’s eyes. Yet the image he saw there differed greatly from the person he knew himself to be. There were no scars, no blemishes, no imperfections reflected there, only a bright and shining knight, dressed in glorious shining armor.
He only sees in me what He will make of me not what I am! thought the youth in amazement.
“I will be with you,” said the Gryphon, and Love as a warm, living thing embraced Jason’s long-wounded heart, wrapping it in the comforting arms of unconditional acceptance.
“I will never leave you alone,” whispered the Swimmer, and Peace gently laid its hand of benediction on Jason's brow, easing and then erasing the lines of worry that had for so long marred t
he youthful line of his eyes.
“You have a mission to fulfill. It will break your heart. It will also bring you great joy!” And a mighty tear welled up within the Gryphon’s eye and as it fell, a great transformation encompassed the awesome Beast. For a brief moment, a Man stood before the boy where the Gryphon had been. The kindness and compassion of that Face all but hid the terrible underlying mask of scars burned into its features.
“Go in My Name,” whispered the Swimmer-Son and then He vanished. And the young bard felt bereaved at His leaving, empty and alone, yet somehow also filled, still aware of the Gryphon’s continued touch.
All the questions that were flooding Jason’s mind, burst through the floodgate of his voice as a long sigh. He could feel that something was different, but it took him a long moment to ascertain the truth. His scars were gone!
Jason noticed movement around him, and looking, followed the example of the others as each one dipped their golden shellbowls back into the central community Shell. Each in turn retrieved enough for a small sip. Together, as a united body, they all raised their shells and drank as one. The sweetness of the dew brought joy to his mouth.
As they stood up and moved toward the shore of the Bottomless Sea, Jason willingly, eagerly joined the procession.
All eyes were on him as he, with Nathan now at his side, separated themselves to walk to the very edge of the dark water. Boldly, the young bard turned to face his new brothers and sisters.
The lingering touch of Peace filled his face with a smile that rivaled the rising sun behind him as he raised his voice for all to hear, “My name is Jason, son of Timnon, son of Thaddeus the carver. I am told that you know my name; for this I am thankful. Seven days ago the Gryphon’s Son set me free. For I called upon His Son to make me His own. Today I, who have never swum, will follow Him willingly into the waves!”
The fear that he had fought concerning his First Swim had vanished, replaced by a quiet devotion to the Gryphon and His Son. He was ready!
Jason turned. Nathan, still at his side, smiled encouragingly at his apprentice and reached out to take his hand, like a father guiding his son through a dangerous place. Together the two bards stepped off the edge of the Dragon.
GRANDSIRE'S SONG
When the shadows of Darkness rise,
Unto salvation 'twill make you wise,
'Twill bring new Light to darkened eyes.
The Water and the Sword.
'Twill waken those who fall asleep,
'Twill comfort those who can but weep,
Protecting those you cannot keep:
The Water and the Sword.
In pathless ways 'twill be your guide,
'Twill show you where the dragons hide,
And cleanse from poison deep inside:
The Water and the Sword.
The Water and the Sword, are one,
'Twill finish that which they've begun,
To make you like the Gryphon's Son:
The Water and the Sword. 3
POP POP'S SONG
Noise and excited laughter – the sounds of children playing – filled the crowded school playground. Filled it; everywhere except for one shadowed spot in the corner between the school wall and the cold mountain of concrete and brick that formed the stairway back into that building. There, seemingly ignored by each of the exuberant revelers and their stoic mentors, a young girl sat alone on the chilled ground. Huddled, with her face down and her arms locked protectively around her jean-covered legs, her mouse-brown hair, tussled and blown by the early autumn wind, became the only mask she would offer her world.
They all know! her silent cry tore through her like the lash of a cruel whip, yet no tears escaped from her hidden eyes. Somehow they found out. D… Daddy’s in jail. And they know why … What he was doin’… To me!
Why did Mrs. Marsh have to tell the police? I thought she was my friend—at least as a teacher she was friendly to me. But then… then she saw the marks on my arm… It’s all my fault! I shouldn’t have let her see. I should have been more careful!
Oh, Daddy! I love you… and hate you so much!
And now the other kids know! How can I ever face them? They won’t even want to look at me! Daddy, it’s your fault! …It’s my fault! It’s…
“Jenny?”
She jumped in involuntary fright at the sound of her name spoken from close by.
“What do you want?” she managed to respond, hoping her words conveyed her desire to be left alone. She didn’t look up, knowing that eye contact could be considered an invitation for the speaker to enter her self-imposed cloister. The youthful male voice sounded familiar, but she just couldn’t place …
“Jenny, it’s me, Justin.”
Oh, great! she thought. It’s payback time. After all of the names I’ve called that guy, now he wants to gloat over me. I wish he’d just go away!
But he didn’t go away. Instead, Jenny heard the sound of someone sitting down next to her!
“I just thought,” said the intruder.
And she shuttered, interjecting in her mind, Here it comes, someone else beating up on me!
“…that you could use a friend right now and I’d really like to be that friend!”
In spite of herself, Jenny Oliver’s head snapped up and she looked into the face of the boy sitting next to her.
“Y… you want to be my friend? After all the things I’ve said about… about… the way you look and all those awful names I’ve called you?”
Justin shrugged and grinned at her as if it didn’t matter at all, revealing in the process the shiny metal of his braces. It occurred to her then that he had been doing that a lot more lately – smiling, that is. She looked at him with fresh eyes. You know, she thought, even with his lop-sided nose and the slight scar on his lip, Justin’s really kind ‘a cute with his blond hair and blue eyes. And that new-found smile.
“Aw that’s OK,” he replied, never losing that smile. “Those names don’t bother me anymore. Besides, things change, people change. I’ve changed! What you did is in the past. This is today and today you need a friend!”
“I need...?” Jenny started to question, but then smiled back at him and agreed, “I need a friend!” The certainty of that fact and the unquestionable reality of his sincere offer, led her to inquire, “So where did this new you come from, the one who wants to be my friend?”
“It seems I was carrying around this old backpack full of huge, razor-sharp, poisonous thorns. They were sticking me in the back all the time and making me miserable! Someone told me how to get rid of them. And, Jenny, you know, as your friend I’ve gotta’ tell you something. You’re carrying some around with you, too!”
“Thorns?” she asked. “What are you talking about?”
"We know that we are of God and
the whole world lies in the evil one."
(1 John 5:19, The BIBLE, ASV)
The story will continue in
“The Dragon’s Back: Book 2:
MY BROTHER’S KEEPER”
APPENDIX A: FOOTNOTES
TO BIBLICAL REFERENCES
1 John 5:18-19 ASV
“…and we know that the whole world lieth in the wicked one.”
Genesis 2 & 3
Hebrews 4:12-13 & Psalm 119
John 15:1-8
2 Peter 3:10-12
Hebrews 12:1-3
1 John 5:18-19 [ASV]
Galatians 6:4-5
Hebrews 4:12-13
Romans 3:10-20
Psalm 110:3
Psalm 119
Genesis 6 & 7
Proverbs 15:1
Ecclesiastes 1:7-8; 3:19-20
Hebrews 1 & 2; Luke 1 & 2
Ephesians 4:17-27
Romans 12:19
James 3:2-12
Hebrews 2:9-5:9; 7:25
Luke 5:37-38
Isaiah 53
Philippians 2:5-11
THE DRAGON'S BACK
TRILOGY - BOOK 2
MY BROTHER�
�S
KEEPER
by Robert Dennis Wilson
Extensive helps included
at the end of the book.
© November 2011 by Robert Dennis Wilson
2nd Edition: December 2019
Gryphon’s Bard Publishing
Paperback EAN-13: 978-1467984249
Paperback ASIN: 1467984248
Ebook ASIN: B006GKLYB2
OTHER SPIRITUAL WARFARE NOVELS BY
ROBERT DENNIS WILSON:
THE POISON OF THORNS: The Dragon’s Back #1
Fantasy. Currently out as e-book & paperback.
THE PLAYERS: Earth - The Arena #1 [Science Fiction]
Available as e-book & paperback.
CONTACT INFO
Amazon Author Page:
www.amazon.com/Robert-Dennis-Wilson/e/B004FEK3XQ
Facebook Writer Site:
www.facebook.com/Novels.by.RobertDennisWilson
Facebook Personal:
www.facebook.com/RobertDennisWilson
The Author’s Blog:
robtdwilson.wordpress.com
RDW’s Gemstone Carving:
www.facebook.com/WE.ROCK.stone.jewelry
RDW’s Acappella Scripture Songs:
www.reverbnation.com/robertdenniswilson/songs
Email:[email protected]
The cover for this novel was designed by graphic artist Julie Grace.
The Dragon's Back Trilogy Page 27
