Ivory Lyre

by Murphy, Shirley Rousseau

  *

  On the mountain, Seastrider woke. She lifted her head. Her long muscles tightened and expanded with sudden nerves. She stared up at the black sky, her unease making her shudder all through her long, gleaming body. In her mind she saw Tebriel, where he was held in a dark, close place. She twisted and thrashed, trying to see where, exactly where. This was unclear, but his message of a cave and passage touching the sea was vivid. She slipped out from beneath the trees, her wound making her stiff and slow, and pulled herself up toward the crest of the mountain.

  Soon she lay along the crest staring over at the pale wash of the distant sea and the black jumble of the war-torn city unrelieved by any light. She gazed down at the palace, dark and still. She rumbled once deep in her throat, then turned back to examine the mountain again, for it was there, deep within, that she felt the sense of Teb.

  She laid her head down along the mountain, crawling and scenting like a hunting snake, her tongue slipping in and out, her head hugging stone and earth and twisting one way, then the other, as she sought down along the mountain’s wild reaches. Her newly forming scar tissue loosened, her hurt muscles warmed and eased until she moved more freely. She scented the inner shapes of the mountain, its caves and passages and the turnings of its rocky coast.

  *

  Well past midnight, as a group of king’s soldiers slept inside a tavern with the door barricaded and two of their comrades standing guard, a shadow slipped silently across the cobbles, its tail lashing. It killed the guards. Soon five great cats climbed the stone building, from shed roof to window ledge, then pushed through the shutters into the dark rooms.

  All five returned the same way, jumping down to the empty street, leaving dead soldiers behind. So the great cats prowled the war-torn city, five here, three there, seven, a great tom alone—all taking their toll, then vanishing. But suddenly they heard two mounted battalions coming softly along the street on padded hooves. As the battalions appeared, silhouetted against the dawn, the great cats slipped into cottages and shops to warn Garit’s troops. Men rose, armed, and slipped out into the dawn’s shadows.

  In the tower, Kiri woke Camery as a great cat lingered on the stair. The two archers crouched ready. A thin seam of dawn’s light shone at their backs. Soon came the soft hush, hush of rag-shod hooves along the cobbles. All over the city, rebel soldiers moved closer to the approaching riders, and in the tower Kiri and Camery held steady, their bows taut.

  At the cry of “Redbull,” the rebels struck, swordsmen and cats and spear throwers leaping out of cover to panic the long line of horses; mounts reared and spun, swords rang against swinging metal; the archers aimed high to pick off mounted men above their own comrades. Great cats leaped and brought down riders. As uniformed riders fell, rebels snatched up their weapons, caught their horses, and tore the yellow and green tunics off them. But too late they heard the racket of hooves, and four more battalions pounded in to block the surrounding streets, green-clad warriors fresh from sleep in the palace and mounted on fresh horses. They pounded into the melee, cutting and slashing. Kiri fired and fired again, she and Camery back to back. Then Kiri glanced up at the mountain and froze.

  The great ridge of the black mountain had turned white. It was moving, gleaming in the rising dawn like silver and pearl as coils of the dragon’s body caught and turned the light. Kiri pulled her gaze away, taking aim, firing, but longed to look again. The king’s soldiers charged the tower, and she choked back a cry as they battered at the door with huge timbers. Her eyes met Camery’s. They put aside their bows, drew swords, and waited at the top of the stairs. The pounding shook the tower so hard Kiri thought the stone would crumble. The door crashed in, she heard Elmmira’s angry scream, then she was dodging the sword of the first soldier; she struck deep beneath his ribs and he went down. The next fell to Camery’s sword; the next up the stairs lost his footing dodging Kiri’s sword and fell onto his mates. Kiri and Camery finished them where they thrashed in a bloody tangle.

  At the bottom of the stairs they found Elmmira with her teeth in a soldier’s throat. They ran directly out into the battle, grabbed the first riderless horses they came to, and piled aboard, Elmmira leaping beside them. Kiri’s frightened mare reared, then ran, leaping bodies, dodging battling men, pounding toward the mountain. There was power on the mountain, the power of the dragon, a power that could save Dacia. Where was Tebriel? Were he and the white dragon so badly hurt that they could not attack? Where were the other dragons?

  *

  In the blackness of his cell, Teb felt the sense of Seastrider touch him, then subside. He lay thinking of the sea vault, imagining the lyre there, making a picture in his mind of it for Seastrider; but he was frantic to be free, and soon he rose and began to feel along the base of the bars where they were set into mortar between the stones that formed the floor. Surely the mortar must be ancient, surely it must have a weak spot.

  “Gram, if I could find a place to dig, do you still have your hair clip? Could you rip your skirt into a cord to tie to it and throw it to me?”

  To his left, Accacia snorted. But on his right, in the blackness, Gram chuckled. “Yes, the clip. . . . Then the sound of ripping. “Here it comes.”

  A clink hit the bars; he heard the clip drop. He felt around his feet and through the bars, but couldn’t find it. “It’s gone too far outside. Try again.”

  It took Gram nine throws, aiming toward his voice, before the metal clasp fell in between the bars, so close it grazed his foot. He grabbed it up and knelt again to examine the floor of his cell, his fingers touching the mortar as delicately as an otter’s paws would examine the sea floor.

  Each time he found a tiny crack, he worked at it with the metal. But the mortar was hard; he could not break away so much as a chip. Soon he grew disgusted with the frail trinket and was about to throw it away when he came to a corner where the mortar was rough and crumbling.

  *

  The jagged rocks along the cliff tore at Seastrider as she searched for a way in toward Teb. She sensed the hollowness of caves. At last she found the opening to a tangle of caves that she knew, by the echoes, went far back into the mountain. She could sense Teb, sense his stubborn hope, and that kept her seeking. She moved deep in, not liking to be underground. But she sensed something else ahead of her, the hint of a bright and powerful magic. She pushed forward eagerly.

  From above her on the mountain she heard the screams of dragons. The others had returned. She felt the vibrations of their bodies as they settled among the trees and boulders; then came a cry loud enough to crack the mountain right through. It was Nightraider, bugling. Only one thing made a dragon bugle. Nightraider had sensed his bard. The commotion was terrible and wonderful. Seastrider wanted to pull out of the caves and look, but she would not leave Teb. She sucked in fresh air and moved deeper in. She could see Teb in vision, stubbornly digging at the floor with a puny bit of metal, brushing the mortar away with his hands.

  *

  Kiri clung to the side of the mountain staring up, frozen with wonder at the sight above her as the great black dragon reared into the sky, bugling. Beside her Camery stared, too, her cheeks flaming and her eyes huge.

  They had released their horses at the foot of the cliff where the climbing grew steep, pulled the saddles and bridles from the poor blowing beasts and sent them wandering away. Now, above them, the black dragon was a turbulence of dark coils, his wings snapping over the edge of the cliff, a huge clawed foot sliding over a boulder. Then the dragon’s head was so close they could feel his hot breath, as he stared down at Camery, his eyes yellow and luminous. She looked up at him, then laughed out loud, and struggled upward fighting to get to him. He bugled again, then reached down.

  His great mouth came over Camery so wide open they could see every knife-long fang. Camery looked up unafraid. He took her between his jaws with infinite gentleness. She pulled herself in, clinging to his ivory teeth, and he lifted her and set her on his back between his spreading wings. The
re Camery clung to him, her arms trying to circle his neck, and her bright hair spilling across his black scales.

  As he gathered himself to leap skyward, she sat up straight on his back, clutching at the scallops of mane along his neck, pressing her booted legs tight to his sides. He lifted into the dawn.

  Kiri watched them soar over the mountain. She could still feel the wind of the dragon’s wings across her upturned face. The stone beneath her hands felt lifeless. She was only a small, earthbound creature.

  But then the knowledge that there were dragons overrode all else. There were dragons again on Tirror. Her pleasure in Camery’s freedom filled her soul. She began to climb again, up to where the other dragons waited.

  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 possibi
lities. 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.