The Dragon's Back Trilogy

by Robert Dennis Wilson

  “What exactly are you getting at?” demanded the bard in a tone (seldom heard by his apprentice) that conveyed injury more than inquiry.

  “It just seems to me that bridging and damming are two different things. The one offers help (to cross or to catch on to). The other promotes control and dominance as a show of force that attempts to change that which has no will to be changed. You have told me that the River fills all that it flows through. From what I am looking at now, I see that this is true. Look, see how the dam causes the River to back up and expand in its banks? Please compare that to the downstream side. If the work of Gryphon’s Bridge really is effective, wouldn’t the width of the River on the downstream side be smaller? Am I mistaken? Tell me, what do you see?”

  For all of their restriction of the flow, Jason had observed that the builders of the dam had not diminished the volume of the liquid one little bit. As soon as the muddied water escaped the stricture of the Bridge it swelled (as was its nature) to refill its banks to capacity. In fact, the River continued growing wider and deeper and faster than before. To Jason the reason for this seemed obvious; water under pressure carves deeper channels.

  Perhaps, he wondered, all of the effort that has gone into making this megalithic dam would have been better spent in creating several smaller bridges spread out to more effectively cover the River. But, then again, Master Nathan seems to think that this way of doing things is fine. Maybe I’m wrong.

  A GATHERING

  ON THE BRIDGE

  Nathan did not reply to his student but instead increased the pace of their descent to the Bridge. Jason assumed that his master would answer his questions later after he had thought about them, so did not pursue the matter further.

  In spite of the early hour, there were many people converging on the entrance to the Bridge. Soon this human current swept them under the massive scaline arch joining the two guard towers and onto Gryphon’s Bridge. His inbred fear of being surrounded by water could have been the cause, but walking on that relatively narrow walkway over the top of the dam felt very disquieting to the young bard. But then they entered a covered passageway and he lost sight of the outside world.

  Openings in the walls on either side were covered with rare glazed sand, multicolored and wondrously translucent, affording a limited view in either direction. But then he noticed that the colors formed patterns and images. Transfixed, he marveled at the glorious artwork displayed in those sun-colored lights, picturing events from Gryphonsong. Scenes he had only sung about before were clearly displayed right before his eyes!

  He also marveled at how blessed by the Gryphon these Swimmers must be to afford such luxuries. Truly this Bridge was one of the wonders of mankind. Some of his former misgivings lost their sharpness under the diffuse effect of those captivating colors. The fortress had revealed a softer heart; inside the toughened rind, the fruit had a sweet interior.

  Absorbed as he was in observing this magnificent display, he failed to recognize at first that Nathan had stopped to introduce him to a stranger. He had taken several steps before he realized that the bard no longer walked beside him. Turning around he saw the two men staring at him with smiles on their faces. Embarrassed, Jason immediately lowered his eyes. His blush would have matched the brightest of the glazed reds if he had seen it.

  Drawing his sword he quickly retraced his steps and humbly knelt before the stranger, offering him the hilt of the carved weapon. With his head lowered as a sign of contrite humility, he did not see, only felt the light touch of recognition the man placed on that visible apology.

  “Rise, Jason Ben-Timnon,” said a voice deeper and stronger (if such a thing were possible) than that of Nathan the Bard. “You are among friends here. You do not need to bow to one of your brothers. You see, although we have never met, I would know you anywhere simply because of that remarkable blade you carry!”

  That voice sounded so warm and caring that Jason felt immediately at ease and rose to his feet.

  To his surprise, the man had also drawn his own sword, to offer it hilt first to the young bard. With a start, he recognized it as a twin of his own ornately carved bone weapon! Slightly embarrassed by this unexpected ceremonial honor, and blushing once again, Jason followed the man’s example. Lightly and briefly he caressed the handgrip of the proffered blade. Yes, it definitely bore the mark of his GrandSire’s hand!

  “Greetings to the grandson of my old friend, Thaddeus the carver!” exclaimed the man in a voice both loud and powerful (but also filled with friendliness). “As you have no doubt observed, your GrandSire also made and gifted me with this beautiful blade I hold!”

  While the stranger talked, Jason suddenly realized that he wore the White tunic and sky-blue armbands of a master bard. However, above the four, wide embroidered stripes on his right sleeve, he also wore a narrow golden thread. This unfamiliar marking puzzled the young bard for a moment until he remembered one of Nathan’s heraldry lessons. The gold thread was reserved for senior masters in any guild who were so expertly skilled they could establish permanently fixed schools and were deferred to in setting the standards of their craft. Awestruck, Jason realized that this man could well have been one of the men who trained Nathan to be a bard. At the least, Nathan owed allegiance and accountability to this individual.

  “Thaddeus was a skilled craftsman and a dear brother,” continued the senior bard. Out of respect, Jason had not, as of yet, allowed his eyes to rise to a level above the stranger’s arms. “I (and all other Swimmers who knew him) mourn with you his loss. But we also rejoice with you in his glorious passage to the Gryphonsland! As much as he is missed here, you can be assured that he was welcomed there even more! In the spirit of that everlasting welcome, I welcome you as a fellow bard to the Gryphon’s Bridge!”

  Encouraged by these words and the stranger’s infectious laugh, the young bard timidly raised his eyes to meet those of his master’s master. But the man’s wide bright smile captured Jason’s attention first. A short curly black beard and matching hair (both as dark as midnight) framed a handsome face colored only several shades lighter. The contrast of the brightness of that sparkling white smile set in living ebony made the young bard think of a blazing bonfire lighting up a summer’s evening. The master bard’s eyes, twinkling with the joy of life, were like two wind-borne embers, sparking up from that fire.

  Having sheathed his sword with a flourish, the stranger gripped each of Jason’s shoulders securely but affectionately in powerful hands. Then he turned the young bard first to the left and then to the right. Then, with approving eyes, he smiled and nodded to Nathan. In this silent way, he indicated that he had examined the human prize he had captured, and found him acceptable.

  Jason, at the same time, had also taken the measure of the man. Although he obviously had lived much longer than Nathan, the man looked extremely fit, little showing his age. Without even knowing him, the younger bard instantly decided that this dark-skinned stranger with the big smile would be very easy to like.

  “Since he has already guessed your identity,” said Nathan with a smile to his student, “I might as well introduce this man that’s got a hold of you. Jason, this is William, the Master Bard of Dragonsback, Guardian of the Gryphon’s Song, Chief Rescuer of Gryphon’s Bridge, one of my best friends, and a man so full of life and excitement that it overflows onto everyone he meets!”

  “Don’t let all of those high sounding titles make your head spin,” Master William’s deep laugh accentuated his words. “I’m just a simple man who loves the Gryphon’s Son. It just so happens that (unlike a lot of folks on the Dragon’s back) I have been rewarded for that love in the here and now. Whatcha say there, young Jason, I hope that doesn’t bankrupt my account on the other side! What do ya’ think?”

  While he talked, William had released his grip on Jason’s shoulders, only to move beside him. He wrapped his left arm affectionately under the younger man’s pack. Having secured a hold, he lifted up slightly on the burden, effectively
lightening the load, but also using the bulk of the pack to steer its owner further along the inner hall of the Bridge.

  “Well… Well I hope not,” stammered Jason, somewhat taken aback by the whirlwind personality of the master bard. He would have spoken further but the whirlwind had not yet dissipated.

  Jason would soon learn that, in talking with William, he himself resembled a muted harp playing the accompaniment behind a great operatic vocalist. Overpowered by an ocean of sound, only a note or two of that background would ever escape.

  “Speaking of rewards,” roared a wave of that ocean, “I see that you are to be congratulated! Not many apprentice bards earn their second, journeyman, stripe in less than two years. Well done, son! What are you, about sixteen, now? Your GrandSire would have been proud of you! I look forward to hearing you sing sometime. But we’ll have to put that off for now. We have to move toward the central hall of Gryphon’s Bridge. The time for the first in-gathering will soon be upon us. Nathan, come walk with us!”

  The arm guiding Jason from behind increased its forward pressure and (like one of the sailboats in the Bay in the hands of a skillful captain) the bards were navigated swiftly through the growing crowd.

  “Is this your first time on one of the big bridges?” William asked Jason as he maneuvered the younger bard around a particularly rotund, slow-moving woman and her gaggle of squawking children.

  Jason barely had a chance to think of an answer. The Master Bard, however, never gave him a chance to speak but continued after only the briefest pause.

  “You’re in for quite an experience! But I don’t want to spoil any of your surprise.” While he talked William had his sword out once more and his sword arm free. Various people they passed caught his eye and in response he briefly touched swords with them in greeting. This “kissing of the swords” took place in the air over the heads of any people who stood between them – in this way many individuals could be personally greeted in spite of the press of the crowd. “We meet here to better follow the Gryphon. The purpose of Gryphon’s Bridge (besides being a passageway over the River) is to train our people to be stronger Swimmers, more skilled swordsmen, and more proficient water-carriers, to the glory of the Gryphon!”

  So much excitement and emotion came backed in those rapidly spoken words, that Jason again renewed his conclusion that he liked this man. However, he could not help thinking, I’m glad this man’s on our side! I’ll bet he could outlast the dragonsbreath in a puffing contest and still have wind and voice to spare!

  Touch swords. Dodge. Touch swords. Push. Push.

  “We have built our main building,” continued the dark-skinned bard, “directly in the path of the River to dam its flow and rescue all those who are trapped in its currents. We have also constructed a bridge from our edifice across the rest of the River, so more people can come from the other side. After all, we wouldn’t want them to soil themselves in the River.”

  Touch swords. Swerve. Swerve. Touch swords.

  “From the safety of our bridge, we can reach down with our fishing poles and snag those who are about to drown. We call those whose mission it is to man the bridge, our lifeguards. We are very proud of them and have their pictures up on our wall. We send others out, positioning them along the shore at various locations, so they can affect rescues from there as well.”

  Push. Touch swords. Touch swords. Touch swords.

  So many people wanted to greet the senior bard at this point that his progress and words momentarily subsided. Jason took the opportunity provided by this unexpected lull to ask one of the many questions that continuously filled his mind. Remembering Nathan’s reluctance to answer concerning the restrictive nature of the Bridge, he chose in its stead another equally puzzling concern.

  “Does anyone actually go into the River to perform a rescue?” Jason asked, remembering the story of the rescue of Nathan’s father.

  “Oh, no!” replied William, free at last of the restrictions of protocol. He pushed Jason forward through an arched doorway and then released him. “We wouldn’t want to get ourselves spotted by the poison. We normally try to keep as far from the River as possible. Only those who receive a special reflection from the Gryphon go into service at the River’s shore. I’d be glad to answer any other questions later. It has been a real pleasure talking to you but I must go for our meeting is about to begin. Won’t you please go in and take a seat. I’m sure there’s some room up front!”

  William the Master Bard turned and rapidly disappeared in the crowd, leaving Jason and Nathan to fend for themselves.

  “We might as well go find some seats while some are still available,” said Nathan in his ear and Jason turned to comply,

  Jason did not know exactly what to expect as he turned to face the Gathering Room. If he had imagined that the hallways of the Gryphon’s Bridge were beautiful, with their colored glazed portal coverings, they had not begun to prepare him for the reality of the central chamber. Built in a huge circle, the auditorium looked like an enormous spoked wheel with the aisles serving as the spokes and the many seats as the spaces in between. Level with the door they had entered, a luxuriously paneled wall of dark-grained wood, marked with many similar doors, formed the outer rim of the wheel. But above that wall, as high again as the doors, rose another higher layer of the wall. This marvelous construction, however, had been fashioned entirely of molten sand hung between a support structure of intricately carved scaline.

  If the outer portals were but pictures seen by candles, the inner portals were like glorious nature revealed by the sun itself. In the intensity of their colors and the complexity of the scenes they portrayed, never had Jason imagined that such manmade beauty could exist in the world of men.

  He stopped, in spite of the people milling around him, and slowly, reverentially spun around in a wide-eyed circle to try to take in the entire huge panorama captured above him in transformed sunlight. Realizing that the pictures formed a timeline of the events from the Gryphonsong Nathan had been drilling into him, he searched for and found the beginning of the story where the First Ones swam beneath the falls in the Gryphon’s Land. He saw the guilty pair set adrift in a sailless and rudderless boat. The next scene marked their first landing on Dragonsback, its background marred with twisted shadows whirling in a dance macabre. As Jason turned he recognized scene after progressing scene spanning the years of ancient mankind’s existence, all of whose brilliant colors were marred with intermingled panes of opaque blackness.

  He stopped and rejoiced at the glowing bright scene showing a second small boat being sent by the Gryphon from His Land. Guided by golden eagles, this craft and its precious infant cargo also found its way to the Dragon’s back to be received by a lowly pair of fisherfolk. He also saw the grown Child teaching and healing the oppressed people of the land; in the background, the Light emanating from that Child seemed to war with the all-encompassing dark shadows. In each subsequent scene, the shadowed shards grew darker and obstructed more and more of the picture.

  Then finally, two panels on the western side of the building, directly opposite of the morning sun’s position, were made of glazed sand so dark and dismal that Jason wondered if even direct afternoon sunlight would have brought them much illumination. The first of these depicted the Gryphon’s Child, weighed down with chains and nailed in the River to the wall of the cliff beneath the poisonous falls at Dragonshead. The only clearly discernible color, shining bright red, marked bloody drops flowing from the wounds on his head, arms, and side. The next scene, darker than the last, revealed the lifeless form of the Gryphon’s Son chained to the still-intact eastern horn of the Dragon’s Head.

  Overcome by emotion, the young bard stood as if alone in the crowded auditorium, bowed his head and wept over the incomprehensible sadness of that cruel and hopeless scene. In all of this time Nathan, neither speaking nor intruding in any way, stood guard over his transfixed student, using his bulk as the breakwater against the human sea that poured in to fill the g
reat room.

  At last, Jason raised his tear-stained face to allow his now swollen eyes to continue their pilgrimage.

  The next three panels, though made of the same once-molten material as their fellows, were as opaque as a night without stars. They told no tale, they offered no story except for their blackness. Jason saw at once that they marked the triumph of the shadows that had marred all the previous panes. So great was that victory that no light escaped, no beam could penetrate. Inwardly Jason felt a kinship with those imageless pictures; they mirrored what he had felt when his pack had been full of poisoned thorns and his belly full of the Dragon’s water.

  Praise the Gryphon, the fourth panel showed something much different. Brighter than even the scenes with the sun directly behind them, in blazing light, a huge golden Gryphon stood on the Dragon’s Head. In his mouth He carried myriads of broken chains and at His feet lay the scattered remains of the Dragon’s once-proud horn. Jason’s heart pounded in his chest for sheer joy; the only shadowed shard on the whole panel lay firmly under the Gryphon’s foot!

  Suddenly aware of his surroundings once more, the young bard apologetically sought the eyes of his waiting mentor only to find there nothing but approval and a nod of acceptance. Quickly he finished his survey of the wondrous glazed panels of Gryphon’s Bridge. Each of the few remaining pictures showed him familiar events from Gryphonsong, actual events that had helped change the course of human history.

  All except for the last and final panel. This event had never occurred in all of the known history of Dragonsback. Overhead, in the translucent glazed picture, the circling wall of clouds had risen from its appointed place to darken the entire sky! Below this dark canopy, a band of Swimmers fought with an attacking flight of black-winged dragons. In the distance, moving toward them out on the waters of the Great Sea, sailed a mighty sailing ship more magnificent than any that the Dragon had ever harbored. So wide and long that it required no outrigger for stability, the regal multi-masted vessel sported banner after wind-borne banner and sail upon sail of pure golden cloth, each piece marked with the crest of the Gryphon in contrasting dark relief.