the present state of igneos research

In keeping with our policy of reporting on dragons, and in the spirit of the season …

Research—serious research, that is—into the subject of the large igneoeructidae known familiarly to scholars in the field as “igneos” and to the layman as “dragons,” has always been hampered as much by lack of a place to publish results as by the general skepticism of the public—to say nothing of the skepticism of most present-day biologists and zoologists—concerning the existence of this species.

The effect of this has been that efforts to publish in the field have produced activities on the part of the researcher more resembling those of the hero in a late-night spy movie than those of someone engaged in ordinary scholarly investigation. Occasionally, of course, this unorthodox behavior has paid unexpected dividends, as in the discovery of new channels of information, such as the publication in which you are now reading this monograph. True to a long-standing policy of barring nothing from its pages which might be of interest to its admittedly highly-selective readership, Analog has emerged as the one publication of the last several decades which has continuously striven to keep its readers up to date on the latest igneos research.

Occasionally, we must admit, this information has had to be presented in fictional form, even here. But I need not rehearse examples of excellent information on the igneos, reaching this publication’s readers from highly qualified workers in the field such as Ann McCaffrey and Poul Anderson, to name only two. Having, however, cited this pair, who by their scholarship and renown are hardly in a position to be shaken by any ordinary attack, let us move along to the main topic. For the subject of this particular paper is not the conditions and problems surrounding igneos research, but a fortunate discovery of a piece of invaluable new evidence which bids fair to shine a powerful, valuable—if not revolutionary—light on the whole species.

This discovery consists of a manuscript that presents an account, in verse, of an encounter between an igneos and a human. It is not, however, merely the account of any random encounter, but details the exact actions of a member of the “Dragon-Runners’ Guild” toward one particular igneos, in accordance with the rules of that Guild. The Dragon-Runners’ Guild is an organization, the existence of which has been long suspected by researchers into the igneos situation. Now, with this manuscript, proof has at last been obtained that the Guild did indeed exist—and may still, in fact, be not only in existence, but in active existence, even in our present era.

But more of that in a moment. Let us pass on to more solid matters. It is necessary before building conjecture upon fact to give a more precise description of the manuscript, and an account of the information to be deduced from it.

On first examination the narrative appears to be written in something very like Fourteenth Century Middle English. Closer scrutiny, however, reveals two puzzling inconsistencies. One, the chronicler who wrote it was clearly unused to the making of such chronicles. There are variances within the text that show that it was penned with a good deal of carelessness and little thought beyond that of setting down the immediate information it contained. Second, the language used, while it has some of the tricks of spelling common to Middle English in the period mentioned; also shows a meter and rhyme that is only consistent if the words set down are pronounced as a speaker of Modern English would pronounce them.

However, tests of the parchment on which the manuscript was written, and the ink used, have proved that neither parchment nor ink were of any more recent vintage than some five hundred years, and possibly much older. This has left only one possible conclusion, by anyone knowledgeable in the igneos field. That is, that while the manuscript had to be written by someone with a modern ear, it was nonetheless written by such a person while he or she was existing in the Fourteenth Century or earlier.

In short, we must assume that a case of temporal translation (i.e., time-traveling) was involved in the production of, this manuscript.

Startling—even self-contradictory—as this may sound to those unacquainted with the work already done in this field, it is quite consistent with other evidence previously published. Those informed about the igneos will undoubtedly recall Ms. McCaffrey’s references to, and descriptions of, the phenomenon of temporal translation as achieved by these remarkable creatures, in her earlier papers in this publication. It therefore becomes entirely conceivable that the author of this manuscript was originally of our own modern era.

Once this fact is accepted, the internal evidence of the manuscript delivers up that information which I have—and I believe justly—referred to as revolutionary. For centuries researchers have puzzled over what actually extinguished the race of the igneos. Naturally, among knowledgeable scholars, the mistaken folk-tale notion that the igneos were evil creatures destroyed by human heroes—the “St. George and the Dragon” legend, for example—has long been recognized for the cruel distortion of fact that it is. I, myself, have had a few words to say on this matter in another publication, some seventeen years ago (“St. Dragon and the George,” Fantasy and Science Fiction, September 1957); and the georgists, I am confident, are a dying breed. For some centuries we in the field have been convinced that igneos-nature was just the opposite of evil; although it is only for the first time, in this manuscript, that we have documentary proof of the fact—documentary proof provided by a human writer.

I refer you to stanza twenty-four, lines one and two, of the manuscript:

“Ye whole world knowes—despyte hys fercer parte

How ech Dragon wythin hathe noble herte …”

The important information here lies in the words “… hathe noble herte.” As I say, anyone expert in the field has long suspected this to be true. But we must ask ourselves, since igneos were noble-hearted, and known by humans to be so, how did canards like the St. George and the Dragon legend get started?

I believe the answer to that can be given simply, in one word. Guilt. As internal evidence in this manuscript makes clear, humans were indeed responsible for the disappearance of the igneos from among us; but not by force of arms. Rather by neglect and inattention, a treatment these noble-hearted creatures could not endure.

As a careful examination of the manuscript will show, a close association between man and igneos was originally considered not merely advantageous, but necessary to the igneos. Observe that the story set down in these lines is that of an igneos revived from a poor state of health by a human. Lacking such human association previously, the igneos Shagoth, as it is noted near the beginning of the poem, has become “fatte” and “styffe,” with a temper that “wasse notte gude.” He has, in fact, become so debilitated as to lose his natural ability to fly.

Contrast this condition with the accounts of the same igneos, further on in the poem after he has been contacted and exercised by a comparably noble-hearted human—the Prentice (later Knight, still later Baron) Morlet:

“… Above ye rockye strande and cruel sea,

SHAGOTH bete upward, lyght as fethers bee:

Swoopynge and makynge Turnes Immeleman,

And Loope-ve-Loopes, all suche as Dragon canne …”

Note, also, how it is later remarked that the now-slim igneos continues to “ronne” and lift “hevie weightes to keepe hym trim” although Morlet, in person, has already parted with him. Above all, note the extremely important lines emphasizing that, as a result of Shagoth keeping up these activities, “all other Dragones envie hym …” (!)

To the trained professional eye, lines and line-fragments such as these fit together to make certain unmistakable statements. Shagoth is not just one igneos, left to lead a solitary existence—but all igneos in such condition of human neglect. Morlet is not merely one human, but representative of a whole class of humans who have always concerned themselves with the welfare of the igneos. And the message, in brief, is plain. Igneos require human contact and assistance for their existence in this world. A lack of such contact in recent centuries was obviously a primary reason for their disappearance from among us.

But is this sad conclusion all we can learn from this manuscript? No. There is further information to be gleaned from the lines of poetry; and this indicates almost beyond a shadow of a doubt that the igneos need not be gone from among us for good.

For, I submit humbly, but with the certainty of all my years of scholarship in this field, that these lines, together with other evidence I have mentioned, reveal that the igneos, as a race, have not died out. What they have done is to withdraw temporally from us humans. They have literally hidden themselves somewhere in the temporal continuum, using their ability to travel there.

Where in the temporal continuum are they hiding? The answer to this question must await further research. But no one of intelligence can doubt that the answer is there waiting for us. I submit to you two inescapable conclusions:

One, that this manuscript was clearly written by a modern hand. Two, that the Dragon-Runners’ Guild is proved beyond any reasonable doubt to exist.

The deduction from these conclusions is obvious. The writer of the manuscript must have been himself or herself a member of the Guild—a modern member who was able to return through time to the Fourteenth Century or earlier. Such temporal translations could only have been accomplished with the help of one or more igneos—which means that their race must still exist, in some area removed from our modern present, but from which they are in contact with the Guild. Such Guild-contact can only indicate that the igneos have not completely given up on humanity.

This being the case, however, we may well ask ourselves—can the igneos ever be brought back into contact with the rest of our race, and if so, how?

The poem itself offers an answer. It was the lack of association of noble-hearted humans that caused the igneos to disappear from view, it tells us. But it avoids suggesting that there were no longer any noble-hearted humans in existence. I propose, rather, that it was the noisy vehicles of modern transportation, the overwhelming growth of human cities—in short, the infestation of earth and sky with all the artifacts of what humans call modern civilization—that caused the sensitive igneos to shrink back more and more into isolated areas, where the possibility of their contact with the noble-hearted among our own race was extremely limited.

But now, we have finally come upon a practical means of bringing the igneos out of hiding. It is through such publications as this, that a sufficient number of igneos-minded humans can be located and identified; so that, finding human friends once more available to them, the igneos may possibly be enticed to return among us.

I have been told point-blank by other igneos experts that this prospect is a pipe-dream on my part; that the noble-hearted human is as extinct as the igneos themselves have popularly been believed to be. However, I emphatically reject such pessimism; and I offer to rebut it with the reactions of the readers of this monograph. Let me refer you to the fact that, at its conclusion, the manuscript shows Shagoth and Morlet, although they are now separated, maintaining their friendship through an exchange of correspondence once a year:

Butte yn ye season whenne ye misteltoe

And holly hangeth hevye on ye bough,

Ech wrytes to ech a lettere of gude cheere,

To telle hys friende whatte hym befel thatte yeare.”

I stand on my belief that there are among the readers of this publication many of those noble-hearted individuals with whom our time-stranded igneos friends yearn to have contact. And I call on all of you reading this. How many of you would not be willing, like Morlet, to sit down once a year at this holiday season and pen a “lettere of gude cheere” to an igneos friend?

Confident that the positive response to this question will be an overwhelmingly decisive one, I sit back to await the future in an atmosphere of anticipation and high hope.

GORDON R. DICKSON

Ye Prentice and Ye Dragon

Yn frostye season whenne ye misteltoe

And holly hangeth hevye on ye bough;

A deede bothe brave and kindlie once befel;

The tale of whych yn truthe I canne nowe telle.

Ther wasse a Dragon, SHAGOTH, on a clyffe.

I wiss hee wasse a Dragon fatte and styffe;

For thatte since manye settynges of ye sunne

Hee hadde no ferce battaile, nor helthful ronne.

And as bothe Dragones and alle mankinde hathe,

Hys styffnesse fedeth fulle hys anciente wrathe.

By alle of whych I shulde be understoode

To saye of hym, hys temper wasse notte gude.

By cause of thys, hys sore infirmitee,

He sheweth no traveleres ne mercie;

Ande suche grym stories of hym didde resound,

Alle folke of hys clyffe passeth far around.

But at ye tyme of whych I nowe relate

Ther cameth one whose renoun wasse notte grete;

A Prentice onlie, but by stronge oathe bounde,

To ronne alle Dragones, and to keepe them sounde.

And as hys rank, tho gentil, wasse not grete,

Hee had no welth, ne any by estate;

But that rare charitie to Dragonkinde

Whych Sages praiseth, tyme alle oute of mynde

MORLET, hys name, a brave and kindlie youth.

When thatte hee knew ye mattere wasse ynsoothe

Of a Dragon’s deepe neede, yvowed thatte hee

Shulde see ye SHAGOTH ronninge lyssomlee.

Yet penile was ynough, as welle he wotte,

Sobye hee came at nyghttyme as ythought,

Wher slepeth SHAGOTH yn a rockye neste,

Groanynge for aches thatte paineth stronge hys reste.

And cleverlye ye Prentice, alle alone,

Beneathe ye necke of SHAGOTH rolled a stone.

So thatte ye Dragon twyst hys necke yn sleepe,

Ye stone from bruysing of his fleshe to keepe.

So slepeth hee wyth twysted necke tyll dawne,

Woke wyth ye sunne and sterteth up anon.

A styffe, and certes, a crookede necke to fynde,

Soe thatte he myghte bye no meanes looke behinde.

Soe payned thys laste condicioun, past beliefe,

Thane SHAGOTH gan to wepe for verie griefe-

“O sadde a Dragon’s lyfe,” quod hee, “thatte I

Must suffere soe, and am too fatte to flye!”

But scarcelie hadde he made thys woefulle moan,

When hee did feele a poke at hys tayle-bone.

Furieuse, hee tryde to turn hys head and see,

Who poked atte hym; but hys styffe necke stopped hee.

“Hay done!” hee cryed, “Yn Name of Dragon’s Wrathe!”

Yette MORLET kneweth welle hys Prentice’ pathe;

Wherefor hee proddeth SHAGOTH yette once more

And SHAGOTH lepeth from hys neste, aroare.

So wroth ye Dragon wasse, ne recketh hee

Of alle hys aches and alle hys miserie.

“I shalle thys Pokkere shak fro off my tayle,”

Swered hee, “then dryve hym erthwerd lyke a nayle!”

Rechinge ye open plaine, hee gan gallope

As onlie Dragons canne, withouten stoppe.

At fersom speede hee thundred o’er ye lande,

Ther wasse no distaunce thatte culde hym withstande.

Meantyme, yonge MORLET, faithfulle to hys vowe,

Clunge to ye Dragon’s tayle, gratefulle enowe.

For hys gude belte, withe whych tyght-bounde hadde hee,

Hymself to SHAGOTH, leste hee bee throwne free.

So, ryskinge lyfe and lymbe and mortale dethe,

MORLET revowed hys oathe whyle hee hadde brethe,

“I will succour thys Dragon, or wille die.

Such dutie ys ye leeste fro suche as I!”

Yet, if yonge MORLET wulde notte bende hys wille,

Namor culde SHAGOTH’s Dragon’s wrathe be stille.

Togethere, they continuede on ther ronne

Through mornynge, noone, and settynge of ye sunne.

Acrosse ye wyde plaine, thro ye furthere hilles,

By fieldes and forestes, swampes and rockye rilles,

Chargeth ye SHAGOTH ynto deepeste nyghte.

Fulle warme wasse hee, ne ached, but felte aryghte.

And as ye yongling dawne gan bleede ye skye,

SHAGOTH unto hymself asked, “Bee thys I?

So Iyghtlie leping o’er ech hille and dale;

So acheless, fulle of strengthe, ne lyke to fayle?

“Mayhap thys longe gallope hathe done me gude.

Culdest bee thys Pokkere knewe soe, thatte yt wulde?

Yf soe, mystaken wasse my wrathe anon

I muste admitte to hym thatte I wasse wronger

Hee turned hys heade–nowe on a supple necke,

To speke to MORLET. But hee fayled to recke

Of (juste aheade) a cliffe-edge, sharpe yndeede

From off of whych hee hurtled atte fulle speede

A cliffe ytte wasse, famos fro lande to lande,

For halfe a myle sheere, felle ytte to ye strande

Of ye deepe sea, wyth grete stones alle aboute,

To smashe ye lyfe fro man and Dragon oute.

Ye whole world knowes–despyte hys fercer parte,

How ech Dragon wythin hathe noble herte;

And yn thys moment whenne fel dethe wasse nere,

Ytte wasse notte for hymself SHAGOTH felte feare.

“Alas!” cryed hee, “ne looked I onne, eftsoone.

I have repayed kyndnesse wyth ferful doome!

Pokkere, t’was thou helped mee–nowe wee muste dye!”

“NonSense!” quod MORLET. “Needes butte thatte ye flye.”

Grete teares therpon bedewed ye Dragon’s cheek.

“Alas,” hee wept, “I am too fatte and weake!”

“Thatte once wasse true,” sayd MORLET, “but namor.

Thy ronne hathe made thee lean and lyght to soare.”

“Canne thys bee true?” sayd SHAGOTH. “I wille trye.”

Hee tryed, and lo! Hee founde thatte hee culde flye.

As once hadde hee, when butte a Dragon yonge,

Soarynge above ye erthbounde, everechon.

Ah, grete ye bliss of hygh lordes yn ther toweres,

And grete ther laydes bliss wythin ther bowers;

But no bliss toucheth that whych doth obtayn,

A Dragon fatte, who nowe canne flye agayne!

Above ye rockye strande and cruel sea,

SHAGOTH bete upward, lyght as fethers bee;

Swoopynge and makynge Turnes Immeleman,

Ande Loope-ye-Loopes, all suche as Dragons canne.

So triumphantlee returned hee home by aire,

To hys own clyffe. Partynge wyth MORLET ther,

He didde ye Prentice thanke moste hertilie,

And waved farewel as far as hym culde see.

And soe they parted. Butte since then, ech dawne,

Earlie, SHAGOTH some lengthie leagues doth ronne;

Ande lyfteth hevie weightes to keepe hym trim,

Soe thatte alle other Dragones envie hym.

Meantyme, yonge MORLET hath becom a Knyghte.

Yn manye landes hath shone yn gallaunt fyghte

Ande won hym grete honors, untyl ye Kyng

Hath made hym Baronne, as ye mynstrelles sing.

Soe goeth ech, uponne hys separate waye,

SHAGOTH doth aide alle travelleres gone astraye.

MORLET doth rule hys Baronnie, and fyghte

Alle eville Knyghtes, and trounceth them aryght.

Butte yn ye season whenne ye misteltoe

And holly hangeth hevye on ye bough,

Ech wrytes to ech a lettere of gude cheere

To telle hys friende whatte hym befel thatte yeare.

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