The Dragon's Back Trilogy Read online

  "Sir?" Jason asked the guard in a whispered voice just loud enough to be heard above the noise of the crowd, "Can I ask you a couple of questions?"

  "Why, sure Lad, ask away! What's on yer mind?"

  "First of all, why do all the people around here, except you, wear so many chains? It looks like some of the folks we passed were deliberately killing themselves under all the weight they were carrying. Are they being punished or something? Is this some form of religious penance? And second, as you talked with us you spoke several times of danger for us in this city and you've continued to watch over us as though you expect us to be attacked. What's going on here? Why would someone want to hurt us when they don't even know us and we certainly haven't done a thing to hurt them?"

  "Lad, look ov'r yer shoulder a bit at the reaction o' the people as they pass yer Gran an' the bard, particularly thems as got the most chains on."

  Turning his head as though to talk to his companions he noticed that a well-dressed merchant decked in brightly colored robes and layers of highly polished chains, stumbled just as he came abreast to his GrandSire. The man clutched desperately at his chains as though they suddenly needed that extra support and turned to glare angrily at the old carver and his bard companion.

  With his eyes, Jason followed the next person to pass, a rather portly woman with only a few chains over her simple clothing. Yet she, also, reacted to the two travelers: first, a grimace darkened her face (as though she had tasted or smelt something very unpleasant), then she, too, gripped her chains as if in support and turned openly hostile eyes on the men.

  "What is happening here?" asked the youth quietly to his guide. "Why are those people reacting that way?"

  "Only the Gryphon knows fer sure. 'Tis one o' the myst'ries of Dragonsback that thems with chains can't abide a Swimmer. It seems that when they get near anyone who openly follows the Gryphon, it suddenly makes their chains feel exceptional' heavy. Passin' by two as strong as Thaddeus an' Nathan mus' make 'em feel pretty downright uncomfortable! Them poor folks learned t' carry their set burdens grad'ly over time as they built 'em up, yet when a true son or daughter o' the Gryphon's nears, all o' sudden they have trouble carryin' their extra load. (As if their packs wasn't 'nough fer them t'ave t' bother with.) An' even though its none o' the Swimmer's fault, that's where those that be chain-bound place the blame. Iffin enough of 'em get t' feelin' bad 'nough, they can get pretty testy an' start some trouble. That's what I'm watchin' out fer; t' steer us away from 'em I knows is bad news an' bring ya' safely 'ome."

  "But why are they wearing chains in the first place?" asked an incredulous Jason. "Aren't chains a mark of slavery or of bein' a prisoner?"

  "Not t' them! Well, at least not at first 'til the chains've taken root an' can't be removed. Y' see, Lad, Scalina is a place fer makin' chains. Yes, they do make other things here like swords, an' dishes, an' cutlery, an' so forth, but primarily they make chains. They make 'em in all sorts an' shapes an' sizes, then they ship 'em out all over Dragonsback. People purchase their chains that way or else they travel here an' pay t' make ‘em themselves, goin' down to the depths of the mines. The more they have t' give in trade, the deeper they go. Kinda like a pilgrimage in reverse: 'stead of seekin' the Gryphon, they pull out all the stops lookin' fer the Dragon or what 'e 'as t'offer. An' proud they are! 'Looky me!' they tell their friends, showin' off their bran' new chains when they go back home. But this only starts a competition seein' who can get an' carry the most! The poor fools'll break their backs an' their lives t' be better 'an their neighbor at carryin' the Dragon's weights."

  "But why? Can't they see that they're hurting themselves? Why don't they just take them off and go free?"

  "Why? Why, indeed! 'Cause the tricky Dragon's ordained it so! People feel their chains are hard-won an' hard paid for, so they're slow t' pass 'em by. Those chains also be proof 'gainst Gryphon's Breath, a kinda armor, if y' will. Jus' like its hard t' keep scaline warm, it's hard to get warmth past it t' the 'earts o' men! Truth is, men an' women grow so's attached t' their chains (and their chains to them) that they forget what life was like without 'em an' the Dragon's little broth'rs bind 'em on so tight that, in the worse case, no man by hisself can drop 'is chains! An' yer right: chains is al'ays a sign o' slavery. 'Tis only the Gryphon can melt 'em off an' set men free!"

  "You speak as though you believe the Dragon's real. I've seen him in my dreams. Him and the little dragons! They torment my sleep over an over again! Are you saying they're real?"

  "Oh, 'e's real all right! 'E jus' don't want no un' t' know it's so! Him an' 'is little broth'rs 'bout got the run o' the land 'cept fer over the few that feel the Gryphon's Breath. 'E's definitely got the run o' Scalina. Won't let no Swimmers live in 'ere unless we come in quiet-like an' hide what we are. Got t' come in 'limited access' or some such thing them folks at the bridges call it. Take me an' mine fer example: we's here kinda' secret an' I work at the gate so's I can help thems as need helpin'. Speakin' o' me an' mine, here we are! Turn in at this doorway... Joannah! We've guests fer dinner, Love! An' ye'll never guess who they be!"

  INSIDE THE DRAGON

  Joannah: warm, plump, friendly, smelling of good things to eat; instantly inserted herself into a long-empty void in Jason's heart.

  "Call me 'Mother,'" she had said to him as soon as the formal swordsign introductions were made. "Everyone does!" Indeed, with six children aged from three to fourteen crammed into that not overly spacious apartment, it seemed, in fact, like everyone was calling her 'Mother'!

  In a compassionate, but business-like way, she tended GrandSire's wound and saw that room was made for them at the table (a permanent fixture carved in place out of the scaline). Movable benches were drawn up and the guests were treated to large bowls (wooden, not scaline!) of a rich brown stew filled with vegetables, with plenty of thick slabs of fresh, warm bread on the side. Some of the older children also were allowed to sit and take their meals with the adults.

  Tears filled Jason's eyes as he took his first taste. This woman has asked me to call her Mother! Then she’s opened up her heart and home to us. And this food... How long has it been since I’ve savored good food seasoned with love?

  Joannah, ever sensitive to those around her, instantly responded to Jason, "Son, what's wrong? Is the stew too hot? No? Then somethin's troublin' you? Is there anything I can do?"

  His weakness exposed like a bonfire set on a nighttime hill, Jason flushed a fiery crimson and stuttered out an answer, "N--no, M-ma'am. It’s just that, well, we never got food like this at the Orphanage..."

  "Yeah, that stuff they fed us was so bad they couldn't even get the animals to eat it!" quipped Kaleb, reaching for another slice of bread. "This food is great! We can't remember eatin' anything so good!"

  Jason flashed his brother a smile of gratitude for helping to cover his embarrassing moment. He knew his older brother had been feeling absolutely miserable even threatened, surrounded as he was by a whole household of Swimmers, and as a result, this misery had caused his older brother to be withdrawn and uncharacteristically quiet all evening. Jason also knew that this verbal smokescreen his brother had just created had taken a major effort on his part: Kaleb simply did not offer praise without a very good reason. Jason's smile to him served as an unspoken marker on a tally sheet between them. They were still a team!

  "Well, bless me!" laughed the guard's wife, and her whole non-petite frame laughed with her. "Jason, m' boy, I've had people compliment m' cookin' before, but never have I known someone to cry 'cause it's so good! Thank you, son, and bless ya'. You're welcome t'all y' can eat, and then a little!"

  "Jo?" Lot, now seated at the table in a plain gray tunic, addressed his wife. "Do y' think we should invite some o' the other dew carriers t' meet our guests?"

  "Well," responded his ever-sensitive wife, "I guess we'd better put that question t' our weary travelers, first. We've tended Thaddeus' wound and he should manage well enough, but I reckon he an' the others might be plent
y tired... But hearin' Nathan sing Gryphonsong would be a privilege very few would hide from!"

  Then she dusted the flour from her hands on her apron and formally drew her own shortsword, a dainty white rapier made of carved bone. Joannah gracefully extended her arm and the blade outward in an arc that ended pointing down and away from her toward the floor. The action looked much like a bow or curtsey. It was the universal sign for a polite request (not demand): PLEASE! Lowering her eyes she made her verbal request to GrandSire and the bard: "kind sirs, I know you are tired and worn from your travels, but since this is a night o' celebration markin' the freein' o' your boys, could we impose on you..."

  "Jason, take notice, son!" said Nathan with a smile in his voice and a playful twinkle in his eye. "This is the law of the bard throughout all Dragonsback. Learn it and learn it well for it is a sure thing that others will hold you to it. (Not that I mind it at all, ma'am). That law states:

  A minstrel bard must never steal;

  But will repay you for a meal

  With story, song, or current news:

  He's bound to honor, nor refuse."

  Then Nathan rose from the table, turned toward the lady of the house and drew his own sword. Kneeling and bowing his head, he raised the hilt of the sword into the air above his head: I AM ON QUEST. (In this context signifying he was honor-bound to fulfill the request she had given him.) "We would be glad to 'sing for our supper', this is, after all, a bard's acceptable currency for hospitality and this fine meal was well worth the compliment of many bards voices!"

  "Aw, pshaw!" said Joannah, feigning embarrassment, but obviously well pleased by the bard's words. "'Tis a wonder what cookin' with the dew will do. Makes food taste as it ought!"

  "Don't let me slow y' young folks down," said the old carver between mouthfuls. "I'll jus' prop m'self up in a corner outta the way an' enjoy the fun! Hearin' Nathan sing'd do these weary ol' bones a world o' helpin'!"

  "Good! It's settled!" shouted Lot slapping his knees with a loud crack! "Sammy, run out an' fetch John the Miller an' Tony the Baker! Tell 'em t' bring them an' theirs fer a special treat!"

  To his credit, Sammy, Lot's oldest, jumped right up and instantly left his half-eaten dinner to obey his father. His curly mop of black hair disappeared in a flash. Guess he's kinda excited, thought Jason. Then again, I guess I am, too! I get to hear Nathan sing!

  Slipping quietly into his vacated seat, Sammy’s next younger sister, Shoshanna, hid her embarrassed smiles and coy glances behind a tumbling waterfall of midnight-black hair. Jason could not help but notice that her dark eyes followed his every action, yet surreptitiously turned away if he sought to meet her gaze. As she noticed him, Jason, in turn, noticed her in a way he never had been afforded before.

  She’s really pretty! he thought with a sudden revelation. Even if she is a little younger than I am. And she’s paying attention to me. Never had a girl do that before!

  ~ ~ ~

  Of that evening, Jason later could remember very little. No, he would never forget the precious gift silently offered to him by those two young, midnight-black feminine eyes, veiled in innocence and purity. The confusion and excitement that they generated made his mind bubble-like Joannah’s stew kettle and his heart burn like the fire beneath it. The new fire's source had a name, "Shoshanna", called after the dewcatcher flower from the mountains.

  However, the emotions and physical efforts of that longest and brightest of days had exacted a toll on him. A warm, crowded room, a tired body, a full stomach, and a soft seat are an equation whose sum is as easy as one, plus one, plus one.

  Yet two other events transpired before he slept, that forever scribed themselves on the open scroll of his still young life.

  "Please sing for us The Witness of the Swimmers!" plump Tony the Baker had pleaded from his newly found seat on the floor as the bard was still tuning his harp.

  "Yes! Yes! The Witness of the Swimmers! That's our favorite!" a chorus of voices young and old had pleaded in unison.

  "Oh, I see!" said the bard, laughing at his motley audience. "'Tis a conspiracy y' have against me. First, ye'll be tellin' me what t' sing, next ye'll be wantin' to tune m' harp! And then ye'll be wantin' t' do the singin' yerselves!" And they all responded with glee for he had done a convincingly accurate imitation of Lot's rough Heartland brogue. When silence returned, he bowed in a courtly manner, using his harp in place of a sword to sign his submission, before announcing in his regular voice, "As you wish, The Witness of the Swimmers!"

  Jason marveled at the deep richness of his mentor's voice in the closed space of the scaline room, as Nathan skillfully wove an elaborate musical tapestry that had his audience emotionally grasping after each tiny thread. With power and conviction, he brought to life a complex story about men and women, heroes, who had given their lives for love of the Gryphon. The names were strange to Jason's ears, yet the musical history was so detailed that he could actually see these martyrs in his mind’s eye.

  And as they suffered in the song, so did he, with them. Suffering he knew: he could relate to those who had given all for a dream they believed in. Here inside a city of those willingly chained, he listened with keen interest about those who were chained and bound against their will so they could follow Another who also had been involuntarily chained. Almost, he could begin to understand why the Swimmers were hated; why they, themselves, had been attacked earlier that day; and why Scalina was an unsafe place for those who chose this path.

  Of the song itself, he could later remember only the words to the often-repeated chorus. In fact, before the ballad was ended everyone in the room (except Kaleb) loudly sang that chorus along with the bard:

  "See now the mighty waves that break

  Against the 'circling shore,

  A living sea of witnesses

  Who tell us to endure;

  So cast off those chains that bind you,

  Those weights that drag you down,

  With patience learn to swim the course,

  That you too might win the crown:

  Look to the One who starts and ends:

  Yes, set your eyes on Him,

  Who endured the Stream,

  the Chains, the Sea

  That you might learn to swim." *6

  The conclusion of the musical marathon of Nathan's first song brought applause and more music and more applause and more music in a dizzying cycle that found Jason less and less aware of his surroundings with each passing note. He had almost lost the gargantuan struggle of carrying the weight of his eyelids when suddenly he heard his name being called by a loud commanding voice, "Jason! Jason, rejoin us! You have a wage to pay e're you sleep tonight!"

  He awoke to find himself staring up into the eyes of the bard who bent over him so close to his face that he could barely bring the bearded features into focus. "What?? Huh? What do you want?" were the only words that could trickle out of his mouth.

  The bard straightened up to announce to the room, "Why, I expect you to fulfill my promise to the fine lady of this house that I gave her earlier this evening! I said, and I remember it well, that 'We would be glad to sing for our supper'. Did I not say that?"

  "Yes, sir," Jason mumbled, unsure he understood where this was leading and then suddenly not sure he wanted to know.

  "Well, I've sung and you slept. Now it's your turn to sing so I can sleep! You do remember the universal rule concerning bards, don't you?"

  Fear suddenly gripped Jason by the throat and started squeezing off his wind supply. At the same time, his full stomach churned itself into a knot the size and weight of the Flying Eagle’s rather substantial anchor. "I... I... I.." was all that he could stutter.

  Then he heard in the background, muffled laughter and some childish snickers. In a flash, the room around him expanded back into focus. Nathan the bard, unable to contain himself any longer, burst into a rich, rolling belly-laugh so hearty and full of life that it was a song in its own right. All those in the room joined in its chorus, e
ven red-faced Jason.

  Kaleb, with tears of mirth streaming from his eyes, chided his sibling, "Jase, I haven't seen you that scared since the time you almost got caught swipin' a sweetcake from Marvin's office!"

  But while he laughed at his own expense, Jason was also thinking. I am wearing the robes of a bard! All of my life I have longed for a chance to sing out loud the songs that have flooded my heart day after day after day. By the Gryphon, I will! Let them laugh, but I do have a song to sing! I might not be as good as a Master Bard, but I'm sure willin' to try! If this is to be my destiny, then tonight I will face it!

  Then, to the surprise of everyone in the room, (except for Nathan who fully knew the explosive force of a song too long contained) Jason, the apprentice bard, jumped to his feet and rapidly drew his scaline sword. The drawing of that sword silenced every voice as quickly as though their vocal cords had been severed by its edge. Snapping his arm to a fully upright position with the blade extended toward the high ceiling, he turned to face his GrandSire: ATTENTION/ WARNING!! Then, for the second time that day, he lowered his sword and deliberately gave it away; this time to the man who had given so much to rescue him.