The Ivory Lyre

Chapter 20

Teb dug with the clasp, the mortar dust filling his nose. The darkness pressed at him, making him want to batter mindlessly at his prison. The bar was slowly loosening; already he could wiggle it. He tried to keep the sense of Seastrider close, but even that was not constant. Sometimes he thought he heard rumbling over the scraping of mortar, but when he paused to listen he wasn’t sure.

Soon the sound came louder; he felt Seastrider close as she battered against stone so hard he could hear the mountain rumble. Hot tears welled in his eyes. She was tearing at the mountain to reach him. He dug harder at the stubborn mortar.

*

She could hear the echo of emptiness behind the wall she battered, ramming it with her sides and with her horns. Though the cave was huge, this wall was not thick, and at last it gave way. But Teb was not there inside the big echoing space. She listened and could just hear faint tapping and scraping. He was in another cave beyond this one. She tore at the new wall, while above her on the mountain Kiri stood between dragons.

They pushed their noses at Kiri. She scratched Starpounder’s black forehead. They were watching the city, and suddenly Starpounder drew away, then leaped skyward as a small band of king’s soldiers rode out from the palace stables down along the curving road. Kiri watched the black dragon dive on them spitting flame, scattering the horses, dragging the men from their saddles. She watched Starpounder kill the soldiers and chase the horses away. Beside her Windcaller rose to attack another band near the river, her wings catching the sun with white light. Both dragons sped over the city slashing and ripping, but avoiding their own troops. Kiri saw Nightraider join them with Camery astride, her sword flashing. Moments later, Starpounder banked and returned to the mountain, sliding down the wind, his wings grazing her as he came to rest, nudging her until she leaped to his back.

He did not join the others over the city; he circled the mountain, then dropped low along its southern cliffs. She ducked as he glided into the big, echoing cave. Inside, far back, she could see Seastrider’s pale shape battering at the cave wall. The next instant they were beside her in a shower of rock, as Starpounder, too, attacked the mountain. Kiri slid down, drew her sword and began to dig beside them, hacking at earth and stone.

Teb could hear them digging, could hear metal striking stone as he gouged at the flaking mortar. Accacia and Gram were quiet. As he forced his shoulder at the bar again, it broke away at the bottom so he fell half out of his cage. One more shove and he was out, still clutching the little hair clip. He ran in blackness toward the sound of digging, slammed into the wall, felt it trembling. Metal rang, thuds like stones falling. Then Seastrider’s voice, “Stand back, Tebriel. The stone will bounce and roll.”

He backed away, into bars, felt Gram’s hand on his arm. “What is happening? Is it the dragons?”

“Yes, the dragons, Gram. Will you be afraid?”

She squeezed his hand and laughed. “Excited. Awed.”

They heard stone fall, a dragon roared, thunder shook the mountain and boulders were tumbling in, the light so bright. Then Seastrider’s face filled the hole, her green eyes on Teb, her white nose pushing at him. He was only vaguely aware of Kiri crowded against the wall sheathing her battered sword, for his arms were around Seastrider’s neck, squeezing so hard she belched flame.

It was flame that freed Accacia and Gram as Seastrider’s breath cut away the bars. Teb thought of leaving Accacia there, but he could not. He did leave her to climb out of the fissure alone, as he and Gram lifted into the sky between Seastrider’s white wings and Kiri clung to Starpounder. As they dropped low over the sea along the cliff, they could see a tunnel well beneath the water. And now guard lizards began to appear on the mountain, slithering out of every crevice, snarling and hissing up at them.

The battle was quickly fought, the two dragons killing the lizards like a fox in a nest of mice, tossing them into the waves. If there were others, they had fled back into the cracks of the mountain. The riders slid down. Teb took Kiri’s hand.

“Can you swim? Can you dive deep?”

“I can swim. I never tried to dive for long.”

“I’ll show you.” He stripped off the brown skirt and tunic.

“They’re Gram’s,” she said, laughing.

Teb chose two heavy stones. “Pull in your breath and hold it, relaxed and slow. Hold as long as you can, then let it out. Do that five times. Each time you will be able to hold longer. Then take the last breath, clasp the stone to you, and jump in. Let your breath out a little at a time under water. When you are ready to come up, drop the stone and kick.”

Kiri pulled off her skirt and boots, modestly leaving her tunic on, and followed his lead down into the sea, her last breath so deep she thought her lungs would burst. She was terrified there would be more lizards. She and Teb dropped fast under the weight of the stones, the undersea all glowing with green light. Deep down they grabbed for the tunnel wall and pulled themselves in.

Not far inside the tunnel shone a metal door set into the mountain. Teb smashed at the lock with his stone. Kiri took a turn, but her need for air was getting uncomfortable. Soon it was urgent, but he, battering away, seemed ready to stay under forever. She knew she couldn’t hold much longer, would have to suck water into her lungs. At the last possible moment he slammed the rock from her hands, pulled her out of the tunnel and, kicking, dragged her up. She kicked madly and burst through the surface gasping for air.

They took new stones and went down again, to work until Kiri again felt her lungs would burst. Then a third time. It seemed hopeless to her, but at last the lock shattered and fell in pieces to the tunnel floor. When Teb pushed the door, it flew open under the pressure of the sea. Again Kiri was frantic for breath. She had a glimpse of the other tunnel opening high in the little cave roof; then they were shooting upward.

She was still sucking in air when Teb dropped back into the sea, too eager to wait. She followed, and found him crouched inside the treasure cave upon a heaped carpet of gold coins, his knees deep in them as he cradled a small, delicate white lyre stained green from the sea light. He raised it to Kiri in salute, his face distorted by the sea; she touched it and felt its power. Then he pushed himself out of the tunnel and they shot upward.

The two dragons nosed the lyre, crooning. It was a beautiful lyre, the ancient ivory delicately carved, the joints perfectly fitted. It held such power that when Teb struck one note the dragons shivered with pleasure.

They carried the ivory lyre up to the crest of the mountain, to the highest peak so the dragons were in full view of the city. There were battles down in outlying regions, but not many. The dragons’ attack had turned the tide; the dark was in retreat.

Standing tall on Seastrider’s back, Teb touched one string of the lyre; one note rang out. The rebel soldiers looked up at the mountain, struck still. The lyre’s voice was louder, stronger than seemed possible for such a delicate instrument; it filled the city streets and the palace. Teb’s voice joined Seastrider’s; all their voices joined. All battles ceased and men stood staring at a past so sharply alive they staggered with its power. They knew the pain of past lives, the wrenching challenges. They knew the triumphs. They knew feelings stronger than their own lives had ever permitted, a world immense with possibilities. The dull sickness of the drugs and taverns fell away. Dacia saw its tormentors clearly now for the first time. It understood them, those who sucked on lust and degradation and on terror. The dragon song and the music of the lyre exploded with life into a thousand facets of purpose and strength these peoples had never imagined.

In the black palace, servants ripped off the green tunics that marked their loyalty to the king. Palace guards came awake from their servitude and pulled off their uniforms but did not lay down their swords. Together they marched to the gates to join the gathering townsmen. Then all turned back into the palace, first to the great hall, then, finding it empty, to the king’s private quarters.

The dark general and his captains were there with the king. They saw the faces of the townsmen and paled. Those would be the last faces they would see.

When the dark leaders were dead, the people of Dacia marched down into the city to join the troops there, to rid Dacia of other dark captains. But not all men cleaved to the dragon song. For those whose minds had been destroyed, or who preferred evil, there was only dim confusion. They did not see the living past, but only a gray, moving haze. They did not hear the dragon song, but only a few far-off notes that they could not identify. For them, rescue came too late.

As the lyre stilled, as dragon song stilled, the city turned to the mopping up that comes after battle. It was then that a lone man began to climb the black mountain, his mind still filled with the music of lyre and dragons.

He climbed in silence while his troops secured their boat, for they had just crossed the sea from Igness. When he came up over the top of the cliff, black Starpounder keened, then bugled and reared up over the lone figure. Colewolf raised a hand to him, then leaped to his back, and Starpounder rose skyward.

Kiri watched them, choked with joy. She looked at Teb and swallowed back tears. Starpounder circled the mountain bugling as if his strident voice was plenty to speak for both of them, bard and dragon.

Much later, when the dragons and their bards filled the sky, Gram rode behind Kiri, excited as a child. They circled Dacia, swept over Edain and Bukla and the small islands of the archipelago, then dropped down to the sea cliffs that guarded the gate of Gardel-Cloor. The moment the dragons settled, the gate flung open and a little boy ran out, limping hardly at all, and climbed the cliff to them. Teb reached down from Seastrider’s back and pulled Marshy up before him, tucking the child’s legs into the white harness, and Seastrider swept aloft.

Out over the sea, Marshy sang alone, his voice given power by the dragons and by the bards who, in silence, joined him. Marshy touched each child in the war-ravaged city, made each know special things. He brought the last of the children out of hiding, many who knew nothing but darkness. They came running now, the child-slaves dragging their chains, swarming into Gardel-Cloor, following for the first time not cruel masters but a far greater power.