“That’s why,” shouted Jason, not caring who heard his impassioned words, “the dragons don’t want us to know and act like we’re citizens in two lands! That’s why the Dragon’s smoke hides the Bridge and the Gryphonsland from our eyes. If we lived and acted like that land was true and real… If we opened our eyes and knew for certain that we were seated there already… If that were true in our lives, then there’s nothing that all the dragons in the world could do to stop us! This message has to be told! The slaves of the Dragon need to know: it is possible to see and live beyond the clouds even while we are living here on the Dragon’s back!”
“That, my young friend, is exactly why I am a bard, so I can share that news with all the peoples of this world. It is the victory already won by the Gryphon’s Son, our Swimmer King. That is why the forces of the Dragon want to stop us – to stop you: they fear the dew we carry! They fear the song we sing! They tremble and seek to destroy any light that might shine into their darkness and expose them, showing them to the world as they really are: weak and defeated! Strong only with the strength of smoke without fire. They might blind our eyes, but they can never burn us!”
“But what of those,” Jason asked, his own calling burning like a fire of compassion in his breast, “you told me about who are trapped by the River water, mainstreamers, tube-sippers, and others, can the Gryphon win them free again? What of the Dragon’s slaves, sinking into the River under the weight of forged scaline chains?”
“It is always a hard battle, especially with the dragons feasting on the minds of the users, but the dew of life is given freely and is always stronger in its weakness than the River is in all its strength. Yes, there are many who have been restored by the Swimmer King: He has, after all, first-hand experience in dealing with the poison at the center of the River! He, Himself became its cure.”
“The Dragon sure will use anything to further his ends and stop the Gryphon’s work in this world! I’m glad that the Gryphonsbreath has come and set me free!”
“Me too, son. Me too,” commented Nathan with a smile which faded as soon as he glanced back over his shoulder. “Jason,” the bard spoke in an intense whisper that conveyed extreme concern, “we must hurry toward the center of town where a friend of mine lives. Some of the dragon’s ‘anythings’ are following us and I’m sure they would love to ‘further his ends’ by hastening ours! Let’s move!”
Jason, too, stole a quick glance over his shoulder and what he saw sent shivers running down his spine. The shadows of the buildings behind them, which moments before had seemed innocently empty, were now peopled with a dark flood of hooded men in shimmering black robes!
“Dragonmen!” Jason’s whispered acknowledgment also fashioned itself as a desperate plea meant for the Gryphon’s ears.
Without any further words, both men quickened their pace until they were all but running. Jostling through the faceless crowd at breakneck speeds, something broke through Jason’s single-minded fear and caused him to focus on the people they were running into rather than those they were running from. All the armor-bundled citizens of Sinsinatti seemed to be traveling in the same direction: away from where they were headed! What was there, he wondered, up ahead that had set these mindless cattle to flight?
They rounded a corner and came out to the open area of the Center City Commons. But the area was not open, rather it violently overflowed with angry, shouting people in full riot. Both bards stopped in their tracks, poised between the noisy destruction ahead and the silent terror behind.
Nathan, apprehension showing in his eyes, turned his back on the mob to face his apprentice. “I believe this is part of an elaborate trap set on our behalf. If we get separated,” he shouted above the din, “find Virgil the Weaver, two blocks to the south on Thornhouse Street!” The bard raised his left hand to point toward a street leading off of the Commons.
As Jason leaned forward to follow his direction, something in the air caught his eye.
PERSUASION
“Oh mighty Gryphon, what am I to do?” Jason pleaded softly under the overwhelming noise of the angry mob. “Nathan’s been hurt! He might even be dying. His head is bleeding a lot and I can’t wake him up! What should I do? The blackrobes are chasing us and from the shouts of this mob, the whole lot of them are all after Swimmers’ blood as well!
“We were supposed to be going to his friend’s house just south of here, but if I try to drag Nathan that far, we’re sure to be seen. Against so many, I don’t have a chance of defending him!
“That means I need to go find help, by myself. But what should I do with Nathan in the meantime? I can’t just leave him lying here on the edge of the street like this; the blackrobes’ would find him for sure. Help me, Gryphon! I need a place where I can hide him quickly, but where he won’t be found!”
The young bard gently set his master’s head down on the hard cobbled scaline of the street and then, still kneeling, stuck his head around the corner to look around the crowded square. Looking south to his immediate left…
“Thank you, Gryphon! You have turned something the Dragon meant for evil into our salvation!”
Quickly he grabbed the dead wait of the injured bard’s hands and tugged him around the corner and into a shattered doorway less than an arm’s length away. The deserted shop – it must have been a bakery – had helped to feed the indiscriminate tastes of the mob only a short while before. What remained of the pastries in there had definitely gone flat! The once ordered interior had become a disheveled mess of overturned shelves, scattered baking pans, and discarded partially-spilled sacks of flour – the perfect recipe for a hiding place!
He dragged the large bard to the rear of the shop, then quickly crafted a disguised lean-to over his fallen mentor, tossed out some loose flour to cover their tracks, then entered the shelter to minister what comfort he could to the man. Using spare clothes from his own pack, he tore a strip to use over the still-bleeding head wound. The rest of the material became a pillow under his friend’s head.
While he worked he wondered what trick of the Dragon had caused that large chunk of carved scaline to come flying out of the clear sky right at Nathan’s unprotected head.
The young bard didn’t have long to wait for his answer, for outside the bakery shop he heard an oddly familiar voice bellowing, “Where did they get to? I know I hit that bard in the head, I saw him go down! They’ve got to be around here someplace! You there, corporal, you say you chased them this way up the street back there and they didn’t come back toward you?”
Jason couldn’t hear the reply, but suddenly knew where he had heard that Booming Voice before. Raven, the giant!
“All right, corporal, take your men and search through the crowd for them. Remember, if you find them, bring them to me! I want them alive if at all possible! But if either one of them gives you a hard time or tries to escape, squash ‘em like bugs and bring me the pieces! I’m tired of their meddlin’ interference in my plans! I want both of their bodies thrown into the River before the sun goes down tonight! Remember, they both should be totin’ one of those accursed Gryphonskins. Two Swimmers in bards’ white and blue shouldn’t be that hard to spot, ‘specially when one of them’s got a volcano on his head, spewing bright red blood!
The sound of many men laughing did little to remove the choking sensation produced by Jason’s pounding heart. Neither did the giant’s next words.
“The rest of you men come with me! We need to search each of these shops and houses around the square! If someone won’t welcome you in when you knock, then, by all means, invite the good citizens of the city (who are celebrating in the square just behind you) to help you give those misinformed people a warm example of what Sinsinatti hospitality should be!”
More ugly laughter entered the shop.
“Now move! The longer you wait, the more of a chance I have of losing them!”
The din of the mob and the pounding sound of Jason’s own heart filled the void left when the laughter s
uddenly disappeared.
“Dear Gryphon, help us!” Jason whispered. “Only You can deliver us now. This has got to be the first place they’ll look!”
Because of the deliberate disarray of the hasty shelter Jason had constructed, there were many gaps in that cover. Through one of these, the young bard watched in horror as Raven, the blackrobe captain, stomped boldly into the Bakery followed by several of his men.
“They sure did a good job in here!” boomed the giant from right over Jason’s head (and pride of accomplishment filled his words). “I only wish they had left me some samples! I hear that the Swimmer lady who ran this place was a mighty fine cook!”
Jason did not even dare to think, lest his silent thoughts themselves should somehow become messengers screaming to the enemy, “Look down! Look down! He’s right below you!”
Surely he must hear the mountainous sound of Jason’s beating heart.
“Captain?” said a voice from the doorway.
“What is it, corporal?”
“We found a trail of blood near to the spot where you hit the bard. There’s a large chunk of carved scaline near there, too.”
Oh, Gryphon, please help me!
“Well, are you just going to stand there and keep me in suspense? Where does it lead, you idiot?! Do you think I have all day?”
“Sorry, sir. It leads to the north, sir. My men are following it now.”
“Lead me to it right now! You men come with me!”
Finally, Jason could breathe again. The dragonmen were gone! They must be following someone else’s blood!
“Thank You, mighty Gryphon!” he dared to whisper. “Thank You, Swimmer-Son. I don’t know whose blood they’re following, but could You please protect him? There’s no tellin’ what Raven will do when he finds out that Nathan’s not at the other end of that trail!”
Quickly then he checked his mentor’s bandages; the bleeding seemed to be slowing at last! Remembering Raven’s description of his intended victims, he took a long drink from his Gryphonskin and then concealed it and his shellbowl in his pack. After leaving a silent request to the Gryphon to watch over his friend, he carefully exited the shelter, covered his tracks with some more flour, and then snuck out onto the square.
The noisy mob had found some fresh entertainment so were unconcerned with the young non-Swimmer who casually skirted their outer edge. Jason headed to his left, pushing his way southward toward the opening that should be Thornhouse Street.
Reaching his goal, at last, he launched himself down the less congested avenue. Too late, he realized that he could no longer count on the relative security that blending with the mob had afforded him. Two blocks down, several black-robed dragonmen suddenly appeared as they turned a corner and headed right up the street toward him!
Oh, Gryphon! Here we go again! He thought, letting his eyes roam furiously to the left and right for a possible escape route. Unless I run, the blackrobes and I will both arrive at the next intersection at exactly the same time! There are people in the street, but not enough for them not to notice me.
This will never do! I’ve got to get into one of these shops, but who would foolish enough to still be open with a riot less than a block away?
Across the street on his right and down just a little he spotted an open door! He did not recognize the banner, a black triangle with a winged red dragon in flight, but at this point, he couldn’t be particular.
Mentally he commented, Maybe those who live under the sign of a dragon don’t have to worry about mobs and such. After all, I’ve heard that the Dragon takes care of his own.
Rushing from bright sunlight into the relative darkness of the candle-lit shop, Jason almost collided with its merchant-owner. Immediately the young bard apologized to the shopkeeper, bowing his head and half raising his sword from its scabbard before letting the blade drop back into place with an audible click.
“You are welcome here, young bard,” said the man in a voice so smooth it sounded oily. “But mind you I don’t want any trouble. There’s enough of that up in the square.”
“No sir, I won’t cause any trouble,” replied the bard in question, raising his head to examine his host for the first time. “I just came in to examine your wares. I’m sorry, I was momentarily blinded by the sunlight and didn’t see you standing there.”
Jason’s eyes had adjusted so he could now see that he addressed a portly man with small beady eyes and hair so greasy that it sparkled in the light of several candelabras strategically located around the large single room.
The owner moved back out of his way like a gate turning on a well-greased hinge, saying, “Feel free to browse. I’ll be back behind my counter if you need me.”
Because of his limited exposure to such devices, it took Jason several moments to comprehend the contents of the row upon row of shelves before him. The merchant was a seller of children’s games!
In spite of himself and his concern for his injured companion (in the Orphanage he had never been afforded any toys or what Marvin called “useless trappings of frivolous pursuit”), he took a few moments to visually examine the merchant’s varied wares, being careful not to touch a thing.
Most of the shelves were filled with children’s pseudo-swords made of transparent crystallized dragon scale called “chips”. Inside the handle of each of these, he saw a small sealed chamber filled with River water and a piece of moss in a preset image. From what he remembered (for Nathan had told him about these devices), apparently anyone who held one of these “swords” would be enabled to enact the specific fantasy of that chip, mentally entering into the reality it portrayed.
Jason also recalled the bard’s stern warning, “Like any combination of moss and the Dragon’s venom, these ‘games’ can be highly addictive. Those who use the chip-swords (both children and adults alike) have been led to believe that the deeds they commit (while under the influence of the moss) are only entertainment – something ‘make-believe’. They think that the fantasies they are engaged in have only been enacted in their minds, so they are not actually committing the deeds. In this way, they can temporarily become anything the game allows, from vile murderers to attacking dragons to mighty conquering warrior-kings, and never face the consequences of any of their actions.
“Yet, son, you should already know,” the bard had continued, “that to practice a thing, is to become that thing. You learn to sword fight by practicing your skills over and over again even if you’re using a blunt stick and only holding an imaginary blade for the exercise. You already know from your lessons that if you practice something wrong for long enough, it may well become a weakness that limits you for the rest of your life. That is why it’s so important that you learn to do something right the first time. That is also why chips can be very dangerous things! You become what you practice!”
Jason remembered his own response, “Don’t these chips also teach the practice of evil behavior as a game. If evil becomes a game, then how can children tell right from wrong?”
Well, enough time spent on useless games, he thought, shaking his head as though waking from a dream. I’d better see if the way is clear so I can go find Nathan’s friend and get him rescued!
He turned to leave and found a tall blackrobe blocking the doorway. No, it was not the giant, but with the sun framing the man in the doorway, Jason could not see his face. Were the stranger’s intentions hostile or not? He did not know!
“I thought that was you, I saw come in here. How’re you doin’, little brother?” said the dragonman in a voice that sounded just like Kaleb’s.
~ ~ ~
Kaleb had been trying to force his way around the mob when he saw someone in the livery of a bard separate himself from the crowd and dart down a side street. A short time later, as he, himself, gained the same egress from the square, he just managed to see the bard duck into one of the small ground-floor shops that lined the street. Above these shops, were stacked apartments in varying numbers of additional levels (from two
to four), their balconies and windows colored with laundry hanging out in the noontime sun to dry.
For a moment the young blackrobe hesitated at the corner, looking back and forth several times, first toward the place where he had last seen his brother and then toward the shop he knew contained an unknown bard.
Shrugging his shoulders he commented out loud, “Well, I’m sure not making too much progress getting around the rabble in the square. I might as well check this out while I’m here.”
Casually waving at the three dragonmen that passed him (obviously on duty by the way they walked), he then entered the doorway of the shop. There he maintained his position while he waited for his sight to adjust to the darker interior.
Just as his eyes came into focus, the bard turned to face him. Jason! And he wasn’t wearing that foolish Gryphonskin, either!
“I thought that was you, I saw come in here,” although Kaleb kept the tone of his words very casual and light, inside, his heart raced with the excitement of seeing Jason again. “How’re you doin’, little brother?”
“Kaleb? Is that you? But you’re one of them – a blackrobed dragonman!”
“And who else do you think would be callin’ you ‘younger brother’?” Kaleb laughed to see the changing emotions rippling across his brother’s countenance.
“I can’t see your face because of the light behind you. All I saw was the black robe so I was ready to run or defend my life!”
Perplexed by this answer, Kaleb did step into the shop before he asked, “And why would you want to do that?”
Jason took a sideward glance at the shopkeeper before answering, “Because just a short while ago I heard your Captain tell his men to find Nathan and me at all costs and if we wouldn’t come peacefully, to kill us on the spot! He plans for both our bodies to be floatin’ in the River by nightfall!” His brother paused for a brief moment before adding in a very intense but much softer voice, “And because of that riot out there and the blackrobes that instigated it who have one target in mind, Swimmers!”
The Dragon's Back Trilogy Page 53
