Jason, still unaccustomed to the heady drink of acceptance and praise, found his face flushing from the strength of that heady brew.
“Aw, now look at what you’ve done! Ye’ got him all embarrassed with yer words!” said Sara, a tall, hearty looking woman, who’s red hair marked a strong contrast to her husband’s white. The farmer’s wife approached, picking her way through the crowded room, carefully carrying a large cloth-bound bundle in her arms.
As she drew nearer she spoke directly to Jason, who remained dazed by the unexpected turn of events.
“Ye’ll ‘ave t’ forgive m’ ‘usband. He’s a good ‘un for puttin’ people on the spot. The Gryphon made ‘im both as blunt as a grindin’ stone and as sharp as one of your GrandSire’s hand-carved swords. Yet, all in all, he’s a good man who’s true to his words an’ says what he thinks. That’s why I love him, but sometimes he puts too many words in front of ‘is actions!”
Smiling to himself, Jason thought, But not as many as his wife! Fondly he remembered how earlier that evening loving Sara had filled their supper time with the musical laughter of her voice and wise, but continuous comments.
Stopping in front of them both, Sara continued speaking, this time to her mate instead of about him, “Well, Gideon are you gonna’ do this thing? Or are y’ gonna’ keep the poor lad in suspense?”
Gideon wisely uttered not a word as he bent over the bundle and gave his wife a kiss before relieving her of the burden.
Letting no words get “in front of ‘is actions”, the tall Heartlander silently and solemnly turned and presented the bundle to the young bard. Holding it loosely in his outstretched arms, he allowed Jason to unbind the cloth wrapping which hid the prize.
And what a prize! For a moment all Jason could do was stare, tears of wonder filling his eyes. Then recognition flooded his heart and mind and he passionately snatched up the intricately carved instrument and clutched it to his breast.
The crowded room fell utterly silent except for two sounds. Jason clearly heard the whispered words of the old farmer and the staccato pounding of his own heart.
“Many years ago we had a son who would’ve made a fine bard, for he had a pure heart an’ a voice strong and true, but the Gryphon called ‘im t’ walk the Bridge before ‘e ever had a chance t’ make much of it. One of the treasures he left behind ‘twas this old harp, carved by yer GrandSire’s hand when he was very young. I think it is only fittin’ that it pass t’ you. With this gifting, I tell you, an’ the whole world, that I’m willing t’ stand for y’ in my friend Thaddeus’ place. He had searched for you for so long and hard that in finding, he lost himself! If I can, I want t’ be a kinda GrandSire in his place. Son, our home is now yours. If ever y’ need a refuge we’ll be here!”
Flowing tears and choking emotion silenced the bard. Silently he offered in accepting response the only gift he had to give. Setting the precious instrument down on a nearby table, he threw his arms around the dear old man and his wife, clinging to them both as if he never intended to let them go.
“I, too, have a gift for this young man, if I may,” Nathan’s deep voice apologetically interrupted the ceremony several long moments later, from where he had stood unobtrusively in the back of the room. The new family of three separated to turn in his direction.
“By all means, Master bard. By all means!” said Gideon enthusiastically accompanying his words with an over-exaggerated bow in Nathan’s direction.
The tall bard stepped his way gingerly through the packed people with his right hand held high in an enclosed fist. If Jason had not been so emotionally involved in the immediate past, he would have recognized what kind of gift could have fit in the hand of a master bard. As it was, he stood gazing with only partial interest in his master’s progress.
When Nathan reached his pupil, he did not offer him the concealed gift. Instead, he raised that closed hand over Jason’s head as if in blessing.
Addressing his apprentice, but speaking so that all those assembled could hear, Nathan said, “Today, I have witnessed a great change in you, my young friend. You have mastered in one day many of the lessons that mark a true bard, among those repentance, humility, and service. Those who know what the words mean have called you a Gryphon-touched bard. For this, I, your teacher, can take no credit, for only the Gryphon can offer that special gift.”
Gradually, as the words fell around him, Jason gained awareness of exactly what Nathan held concealed in his hand. With his heart in his throat, he drew his sword, hilt upward, and bowed before his master.
With eyes closed, he felt, rather than saw, the feather-light weight of the embroidered ribbon that Nathan placed over his hand.
The master bard’s voice rose to fill the house as he commanded, “Rise, Jason, Ben-Timnon, Arn-Ben-Gideon, full bard of Dragonsback!”
~ ~ ~
Tears of sorrow filled Jason’s eyes as he looked at the shadows before him. “Can nothing be done?” he asked. “How can there be so many thorns here, so far from the River?”
A huge, impenetrable barrier of thorntrees rose as sentinel around his brother Kaleb’s land. Beyond and above, Jason’s dew-washed eyes could detect tower upon dark tower cascading up into the heavens. The air hung around them like a moldy shroud, heavy and putrid with the smell of death. Flitting shadows caused even the sunlight to turn gray.
Yet, here on the border of the two brother’s land, lay a small intrusion into the darkness. A tiny plot of green, as long and deep as a man is tall, huddled beneath the massive growth of thorns. In its center, a single flower blossomed, standing strong and defiant against the shadows.
Without being told, Jason recognized the loving work of his GrandSire. He sank to his knees and watered the oasis with his tears.
Behind him, the faithful Heartlanders waited in reverential silence.
When the young bard finally raised his head, Nathan, his master, chose to fill the silence with answers: “In the same way that the eagles can minister to the gardens of the Gryphon’s chosen, so the great scaley bats carry River water and thornlings to tend the plots of the deceived. The dark walls and protective thorns are raised high, lest any Light fall within and the deception be revealed.
“This is the only place your GrandSire could find any access to your brother’s land. It was his belief that he could plant these seeds only because both of your lands touched here. He, in fact, took some fertile soil from your side of the line to strengthen that which was dying over there.”
The tears were flowing once more as Jason bowed his head again, clenched his fists to his face, and said through his sobs, “He could gladly have taken all my soil if it would have broken down these walls! Oh, Kaleb, my brother! Kaleb, what can I do for you?!”
“Jason, my son, there is a lesson here for you,” continued the bard. His words were quiet, yet intense, tipped with hardness, like an arrow in flight. “We know that your brother has been taken over by the dragons. He is now in their total control. Yet he has a weakness, a point of vulnerability! You are that point! If any assault is to be made on this stronghold it must be made at this location, where Kaleb’s Heartland touches yours. The only reason there is life here at all is because somewhere in his hardened heart, Kaleb still loves you! Your GrandSire, knowing this, had hoped to bring you here and stand at your side for a battle to reclaim this land on your brother’s behalf. The Gryphon chose another path for him.”
Jason, hearing this, had jumped to his feet. His GrandSire’s sword was in his hand. “There is hope then? All is not lost? Kaleb has a chance, even now?!”
“Of course there is!” shouted the bard forcefully with much conviction. “Until your brother swims the River, there is always hope for him. The Dragon’s lie has been spread that ‘the Gryphon helps those who help themselves’. This could not be further from the truth! All that the Gryphon’s Son ever did, He did to help those who could not help themselves, to rescue those whom others said were beyond hope. Your GrandSire cannot stand here w
ith you today; yet, as you pointed out, he stands today in the Gryphon’s Land! I, too believe that he is a part of this fight. And you are not alone! Behind you stand threescore and two of those the Gryphon calls His warriors. Valiant men and women, all! Call on them to help you, and the Dragon, himself, will shake!”
Jason held high his sword and drew forth his Gryphonskin; because of his brother’s overwhelming need, he had found at last in himself the warrior that the Gryphon’s Son had shown him. Facing the Dragon’s wall, he shouted to those who stood ready and willing to aid, “To arms, men and women of the Heartland! Too long the Enemy has held this land! We might not have the keys or deeds to the castles, but we can surely bind them under siege! No more shall winged dragons fly from here in deceit! No more shall their shadows block out the Light!”
And once again, Jason knew the power of the Gryphon’s Breath upon him. On either side, the warriors of the Heartland, spreading to assault the wall, felt that same glowing fire as well.
“Take now the fresh dew of the morning,” Jason called to them, remembering his own deliverance, “and sprinkle it on the thorns!”
As the pure water touched the wall, it visibly withered but held fast.
This failure momentarily perplexed Jason: it has not fallen! Apparently, the dew does not have the same effect on still-planted thorns. How can we attack the stronghold if we can’t get past the thorns?
The young bard faltered in his conviction for a moment. In desperation, he raised his head to gaze at the height of the stubborn barrier before him.
There in the air! Something golden swept by on powerful wings! Then another! And another!
“The eagles have come!” he shouted. “My GrandSire has asked for the eagles, and the Gryphon has sent them to our aid!”
And then his GrandSire’s words echoed in Jason’s mind; powerful words, first given to arm a boy and turn him toward manhood:
When the shadows of Darkness rise,
Unto salvation ‘twill make you wise,
‘Twill bring new Light to darkened eyes.
The Water and the Sword.
“The Water and the Sword” he repeated out loud. “The Water and the Sword!”
In this way, he knew the truth of what he next must do. In this way, the words of one now departed sharpened many swords of the living to victory!
Jason anointed his GrandSire’s blade with the contents of his Gryphonskin. Then, with all his strength, he swung his sword in a great arc over his head and struck it like an axe against the thorns.
“This is my word!” he shouted at the passive darkness. “I speak it now against you! Powers of Darkness, in the Name of the Gryphon’s Son, I command you to yield! The Gryphon Himself bind your wings! No longer may you darken this patch of earth with your shadows and lies. In the Name of the Swimmer-Son, I claim back this polluted land. By His command, you must set my brother free!”
All along the line, the warriors of the Heartland followed his example. Raising dew-washed swords and voices filled with Gryphonsbreath, they attacked the wall of thorns! And everywhere they struck, everywhere they called the Name of the Gryphon’s Son, the thorns crumbled to dust!
~ ~ ~
Kaleb awoke deep in the darkened bowels of Dragonsback. A moss-induced stupor lay heavily on him, yet something felt different. Tears, unbidden, pooled in his eyes. With great effort, he rolled over in his cot and struggled to rise.
Yet wherever he looked the image of his brother’s face filled the semi-darkness. Nor was this the image of the sad young boy separated from him many months before. No, Jason’s familiar face had matured, even taken on a manly confidence, and seemed filled with grand purpose, determination, and hope.
Seeing this changed vision of his brother shook Kaleb like a life-threatening disease. This disease only had one cure that he knew of and its name was Jason! Kaleb’s heart broke, impaled on loneliness. And he realized that he had been filled with loneliness all along.
He had sought escape from its pain in the dragonmen’s potent drug, yet here he sat, still alone!
But they’ve accepted me into the Society! I belong!
Alone. I’m still alone.
But, they need me!
They use me.
They give me Power!
They drain my life.
Jason! Jason, my brother, I miss you!
MISSING
“I am glad you’re letting me visit Kaleb’s school,” said Jason as they walked along the River several days later. “At least this way, if the dragonmen were right and he isn’t here, maybe the people in the school will know where he went. I’m really concerned about him, especially after I’ve seen the condition of his land”
“Yes, I am concerned about him, too, but I wouldn’t expect a whole lot of help from that crowd at the college if I were you,” said the master bard shaking his head sadly. “It’s my understanding that the instructors of the School of Arden Nox, although very dedicated to their work, are also heavily influenced by the cult of the Dragon. I am not saying that the dragonmen actually run the place, but more and more the goals of both seem to point in the same direction! In short, Swimmers are not welcome there. You see, the River priests post their rules on their walls and wear them on their sleeves for all to see. We Swimmers, however, carry our rules in our hearts and live them out through our songs. What is vibrantly alive to us has sadly become a cold dead thing to them. I think they must be jealous of us. They are locked into defining the negative and as a result, are defined as negative themselves by the entire world. We, on the other hand, practice overcoming the negative, not just by avoiding it, but by actively embracing the Great Positive, the Gryphon’s living Son.”
“I think I see what you mean,” observed his pupil, “they spend all their time watching the River instead of watching the Gryphon. You’ve taught me that the River’s something we’re supposed to avoid altogether unless we are reaching in to rescue someone. But the best way to avoid it is to let the Swimmer-Son fill our skins and our thoughts! I’m glad you’ll be going with me into that place. It doesn’t sound like I’ll feel very comfortable there.”
“I am sorry, but you are mistaken,” Nathan corrected him. “I will not be going with you into the school. While you’re in there I’m planning to visit with a dear friend who lives nearby. We will meet you outside later. Besides, I know that my presence would disturb your brother if he were there. Now that you carry the Gryphonskin in earnest, it would be best if you met him alone. You will have much to discuss. My friend and I will stand vigil in shellbowl reflection for you outside the walls of that fortress of the River.”
When they finally approached the college, later that day, Jason understood why the bard had called it a fortress. Sulking behind age-worn but still formidable stone walls, the ancient, windowless mass of the structure seemed more of a blight on the landscape than a place of higher learning. More than any other building he had seen on Dragonsback, the dark scaline block structure physically mirrored the look and feel of one of the hidden castles of the Heartland. Oppressively large and dismal, the hulking edifice brooded on marshy ground surrounded by pungent swamp reeds and bristling thorntrees. The corrosive water of the River lapped the base of its westernmost walls. Time and constant exposure to moisture had stained its massive blocks with a green so dark it appeared in places almost midnight black.
“May the Gryphon guide you on your quest,” said the bard as he left his apprentice at the open archway leading to the school. “My friend, Marcus, and I will meet you out here when you’re done.”
Inwardly questioning the benefits of independence, Jason warily crossed the earthen causeway that provided dry passage over the vile-smelling swamp to the front of the college. Inset in the building’s otherwise unornamented façade, an elaborate pointed archway led its cavernous and shadow-filled way back into the bowels of the building.
As he drew close, Jason mentally corrected one of his first impressions of the walls. They were not totally windo
wless. Several manheights above the ground, what he had at first assumed were cracks in the ancient mortar between the blocks, were in reality strategically placed slits. These entranceways for air and minimal amounts of light could equally serve as well-protected exits for airborne defensive weaponry. As Nathan had said, “a fortress”.
The passageway ended abruptly against two massive wooden doors, blackened with age and pointed at the top to match the archway. There were no handles or latches on the exterior of the doors, only a large wooden mallet attached to the right-hand door with a cord.
Feeling as though hidden eyes were scrutinizing his every move, the young bard raised the hammer to knock on the door several times. His efforts rewarded him with load hollow retorts, like huge war drums echoing within the passageway
Almost immediately someone uncorked a hitherto unseen fist-sized hole in the door. Through the eye-level opening, a muffled masculine voice demanded, “Yes? What is it? State your business.”
~ ~ ~
Twilight had turned the greenness of the Valley into varying shades of gray and black when a very concerned Nathan finally approached the darkened doors of Arden Nox.
Rapping loudly with the wooden mallet, he had to wait quite some time before the spy hole opened and he heard the same gruff questions Jason had heard earlier.
“Yes, if you could help me,” replied the bard. “I’m looking for my apprentice, a young bard named Jason. He came here several hours ago to inquire about his brother and should have returned to meet with me long before now.”
“The young man you seek did approach this door at the time you indicated but we turned him away. We could not help him for two reasons. First, he (and I suppose you as well) bore the marks of a Swimmer. Reluctantly, we have been forced to make it our standard policy not to let Swimmers loose among our students. In the past when we did allow it, we were invaded by waves of lifeguards from a local Bridge. They unscrupulously recruited away too many of our promising young students. After that, out of a sense of self-preservation, we terminated the practice and determined to carefully screen all of our visitors. I am sure you understand the need for this precaution.
The Dragon's Back Trilogy Page 37
