At last she was a solid, living dragon.
She breathed out flame slowly, testing herself. Teb hugged her, pressing his face against her cheek. Soon Starpounder began to change, then Windcaller.
The dragons lifted skyward into the night, shaken, reaching with trembling effort for the clouds.
“Was it on purpose?” Teb shouted into the wind later. “Did the unliving do that on purpose? Do they know about you?”
“No, Tebriel. I think not. But there is more evil upon Dacia, now the unliving are here.”
Once the dragons were away from Dacia and out over the sea, their strength returned. They hunted shark and fed, coiled on a marshy island. Here they spoke together of the lyre of Bayzun, for the knowledge had flooded into the minds of the dragons when it burst into Teb’s own conscious thought.
“The spell is broken,” Seastrider said. “The spell Bayzun himself laid upon the lyre has been fulfilled.” She eased into a new position among the boulders. Teb shifted, too, to find the warmest spot against her scaly side.
“The lyre was fashioned from the claws of Bayzun,” Seastrider said. “Three claws he tore from his own foot as he lay old and weak, knowing he would soon die.
“Bayzun called forth the dwarf Eppennen, master carver of all the dwarfs of the northern lands, and bade him carve the lyre as he instructed. Eppennen did the work there in Bayzun’s own cave, never leaving until the lyre was completed, taking for his meals the small creatures that Bayzun was still able to kill. When Eppennen completed the lyre, Bayzun clasped it to his scaly chest and said spells over it to enhance its magic.
“The lyre was used only once,” Seastrider said, “against the first dark invaders. Its powers are against dark magic, Tebriel, not against normal human force. It will not weaken a warrior, but it will weaken the dark evils that drive him. It will strengthen the force of the bard magic. It will strengthen dragon song and the visions we make.
“When the first unliving tried to take the minds of Tirror and destroy the bards and dragons, Bayzun rose up with the last of his great strength and sang, clutching the lyre to his chest with his clawless foot. He drove the dark out with the lyre’s magic—his own power and the lyre together drove it out, a power that shattered the dark across Tirror. . . .
“The dark retreated back into other worlds for a while, though it would come again. Bayzun laid the lyre upon a pile of leaves that often pillowed his head. There it remained until Bayzun was mortally wounded by the spear of an evil man come secretly in the night, killing Bayzun when he was too weak to defend himself, stealing the lyre.
“But before he died,” Seastrider said, “Bayzun laid a curse on the lyre: that even if the dark held it, the dark could never use its power. All the dark could do in holding the lyre would be to prevent its use by the dragons and bards . . . or by anyone who would defeat the dark with it.
“Then,” she said, her breath spurting little flames, “then the un-men laid a countercurse: that the history of the lyre of Bayzun, and of Bayzun himself, would vanish from all bard memory and from the memory of all dragons, from the memory of all men and animals. He did not know that the dwarf had carved a tablet telling of the lyre.
“In his last gasping breath, Bayzun’s curse was the final one: that there would come a time when the dragons and bards would come together in force once more. At the beginning of that time the memory of the lyre would come alive again, if even one among us sought it.
“You sought it, Tebriel. Now,” she said, turning her long silver head to look at him, “now we must recover it from the treasure halls of Sardira. All dragons will know of the lyre, now the spell is spent. Dawncloud will know. All bards will know. . . . Your mother, your sister . . .”
“But how did the tablet get out of the cave to the palace where the lyre is? How did the lyre itself . . . ?”
“You know all that I know, Tebriel. There are still mysteries shrouded by the presence of the dark. But I see the dwarf Eppennen returning to that cave, to the corpse of Bayzun, and carrying the tablet away.” Seastrider licked a morsel of shark from her claws. “You will find the lyre, Tebriel. You will . . . among the treasure rooms of Sardira. Your powers are growing stronger. You concealed your true self at supper tonight very well. And you laid a strong mind-spell on Accacia.”
He touched her pearl-colored nose. “How much do you see, lurking in your disguise in the stable?”
“Quite enough.” He could feel her silent laugh like a small earthquake. “Sometimes I sense your thoughts clearly in spite of the aura of the dark; sometimes I do not. Though I sensed quite enough tonight to tell me that Lady Accacia’s flirting and her charm undoes you.”
“If it undoes me,” he said crossly, “how would I have been able to lay sufficient spell on her to learn of the ivory lyre?”
“I have trained you well,” she said smugly.
He leaped at her and pummeled her until she took his shoulder in her sharp fangs. He held still then, staring up at her eyes, like two green lakes above him. She did not press down even enough to dent his skin. When she released him, he jumped to her back and they were airborne in a wild release of craziness. She dove and spun, then beat out fast across the night winds, freeing them both in flight as wild as hurricanes.
She dove so close to waves that Teb was drenched, and soared so high he grew faint from the thin air. Windcaller and Starpounder did not follow them, and there was no sense of Nightraider on the night sky. The black dragon followed his search in deliberate isolation, all his strength turned toward one being.
At last Seastrider returned to Dacia. They both felt strengthened now by their absence from the dark power concentrated there. They felt ready to face it again. Teb’s mind was filled with the captive animals, and with Garit and Camery.
He had no idea whether the underground knew the great cats had been captured. He had no plan. But as Seastrider circled the stadium, they heard the harsh, angry scream of a great cat, wild with pain. Teb stiffened, touched his sword, staring down at the dark arena.
Chapter 14
Seastrider dove so the stadium leaped up at Teb out of blackness. The cat screamed again. Teb smelled burning fur. They hovered over the stands. Metal rattled; a man laughed. They could see two figures at a small fire at one end of the arena. The bars of cages shone in the firelight. Chained animals crouched behind them, eyes flashing as a third figure thrust a red hot poker through. A great cat leaped away from it screaming, choked by the chain that held it against the bars.
I can dive on them, Seastrider said.
No. The whole city would soon know there are dragons. The main gate is ajar; I can get in there.
Seastrider chose a deserted hill beyond the stadium, littered with fallen, rotted buildings and broken walls, just above the river. She dropped down. “I will go with you.”
He slid down from her back. “The white mare would be recognized. A wolf is too small, and maybe you couldn’t change back. Go up, Seastrider, into the clouds.”
“I will try another shape. A bear—yes, I remember bears; there are songs that hold the bears’ essence.” She breathed out a snort of flame, and before he could argue, the night rippled and twisted, the dragon shimmered, faded, and a dark hulk reared over Teb, a blackness against the stars reaching out at him with broad paws, growling.
When she dropped to all fours, he grabbed a handful of her shaggy coat and swung aboard. She sped down the hill at a fast rolling gait. He could see by the first touch of dawn that her coat was not dark, but silver. He had never smelled a bear—it was pungent and wild. The cat screamed again. Seastrider reached the high wall. The iron gate was just ajar. She shouldered through. Teb drew his sword as they swung toward the fire. Before they were within its light, he slipped down.