He rose one morning filled equally with the two needs, with the light and the dark. He could sense the hydrus down in the sea and feel its awful power over him. And he understood, for the first time in many months, that its evil must be defeated, and that it was within himself to defeat it. But still there clung within him, too, his awful need for the hydrus and the dark. Then the hydrus spoke to him.
You will not escape, Tebriel. This aberration will not last. You will bring the dragon to me—the young dragon.
I am not your slave. You are defeated now by the very fact of my awareness. But Teb felt afraid, and very weak, and was terrified that the hydrus could, again, drown his mind and twist it. You are driven out, hydrus! You will not conquer me now!
The power it sent at him threw him staggering to his knees. He struggled feebly. It held him with terrible strength so he could not rise; sweating and shaking, he fought it now with the last of his physical strength. He could feel its pleasure at his weakness.
But he could feel the young dragon, too, feel her power joining with his own. He stared down with fury at the black pool of sea where the hydrus lay submerged. You will not have us, dark hydrus. The dragon is of the light and only the light, as am I.
You will call her, Tebriel. You will make her come to you.
I will not. I will drive you out away from me into the open sea. Fear held him, but the beginning of triumph touched him, too.
If you could drive me out, weak mortal, you would die here. You would die here, alone.
So be it. But you will not have the dragon. Teb stared down at the hydrus’s shadow moving beneath the heaving sea. It was then the hydrus laughed, sending a shuddering echo through Teb’s mind, so his whole body trembled.
I have the dragon already, Tebriel. It is coming even now.
You lie. You are filled with lies, you know nothing but lies. But Teb, too, could sense a change, could sense the dragons’ sudden decision. . . .
*
“Now,” cried Dawncloud to her eager young, “now,” and the five dragonlings leaped from the lip of the nest onto Tirror’s winds, Seastrider raging in her hatred, vigorous and willful and beating the wind into storm as she fled toward that far sunken city. . . .
*
Teb sensed them winging between clouds and tried to drive them back, drive Seastrider away. Go back, go back, do not come here. . . .
On she came. And in the dark sea below, the hydrus laughed again, and then it came pushing up out of the sea. The dragon is coming to me, Tebriel. It will belong to me now.
If it comes at all, it will come to me, and together we will kill you. But, Teb thought, terrified, could the hydrus turn the dragon’s powers to darkness, as it had turned his own? He grabbed up his knife where it lay rusting, and stood up, dizzy and unsteady from the sickness, as the hydrus rose out of the dark water, sloughing water up the stone walls.
She does not come to you, Tebriel, but to me.
She comes to me, and you will have to kill me before you have her. Without me she is useless to you. Without me, you cannot control her. And I will never help you.
It reached at him, raging. If you are of no use to me, then you will die. You will not be used by the light.
“By the Graven Light,” Teb said, staring down at it. “The Graven Light will defeat you—has defeated you. . . .” He chose a spot between the eyes of the center head, his knife ready. The hydrus grabbed for him. Teb leaped with the last of his strength, straddled its huge nose, and thrust the knife directly in between the great eyes. The other two heads reached for him as bone and cartilage shattered. The hydrus screamed; blood spurted over Teb; the creature thrashed, throwing him off. As Teb sprawled on the stone floor, it reached again but went limp, flailing, then dropped down into the shelter of the sea. The sea went red in widening pools. Teb stood shaken, supporting himself against the wall, watching the red thrashing sea as the hydrus slowly pulled the boulder across the sunken portal. It would die now. Or it would mend. If it returned for him, he must be gone. How had he stayed so long in this place, without having the will to escape? When he was sure it had gone, he gathered the last of his strength and he dove, pulling himself down and down along the drowned stairs into the deep, bloodied water.
He explored every inch of the room below, coming up twice to fill his lungs, then diving again. He found at last a tiny hole through which he was just able to push himself, having no idea where it led, or whether the hydrus was there.
He surfaced on the other side of the wall, gasping, and found himself in a huge hall. The sea filled its lower floors. He climbed out, onto a great stone hearth, and took shelter within the huge fireplace. High above, niches gave onto the sky, and he could see the sun’s brightness. Sunlight in shafts across the salty pool picked out a stoppered clay jug that might have been floating there the many lifetimes since the land was flooded. When Teb heard the hydrus thrashing and bellowing—not dead at all, but furious at the discovery of his absence—he climbed up inside the chimney.
But the dragons were coming near. He would not be caught and held captive here. He wanted the sky; he wanted to reach out to them.
With a foot on either wall of the chimney, he forced himself up it until his head touched the thick stone slab that sat on its top as a rain guard. This was supported by four short stone pillars, to let the smoke out. Through the holes he could see the bright sky and feel the wind caress him. He began to dig with his knife at the mortar that held the slab. He could hear the hydrus splashing and snuffling in the hall below. It could not reach him here, but could the power of its mind make him fall? He quit digging and remained silent. His leg muscles began to twitch. The bellowing of the hydrus echoed up the chimney, and its mind forced at his, raging. Only now his own strength held steady.
Then he heard another sound that, in spite of the hydrus, set him to digging again.
A high, piercing keening filled the sky, a cry of challenge that drove the last shadows of darkness from his mind and flooded him with joy. He forced the stone off with one frantic thrust and heard it splash into the sea as he lifted himself out and saw the dragons winging between clouds, the immense pearl-hued mother and the five gleaming young. They banked down over him, their green eyes watching him, their iridescent bodies reflecting sun and sea. They circled him, their wings blocking out the sky, and Seastrider so close her wings caressed him. Then Dawncloud wheeled and soared away to drop down over the drowned rooftops, where the shadow of the hydrus lay beneath the sea, its blood still staining the water. Her tongue licked out and she dove, and the five dragonlings followed her.
The sea heaved as the dragons and hydrus battled, thrashing through the depths between broken walls.
Teb clung to the chimney, stricken, clutching his knife as blood boiled up and spread; he watched the bloody trail paint itself out away from the city.