An Internal Struggle

Meredith had assumed the leftmost head was already dead when she came across the hydra. It hung at the end of a drooping neck, scales clawed from its jaw and over one eye. She chalked it up to the same luck that let her find the beast on dry land.

She forgot about it once eight sets of eyes looked down. Taking up her sword, the woman whispered an incantation before rolling out of the way. Her blade ignited.

It would cauterize the wounds it made, so the hydra's acidic blood wouldn't spray over everything. She quite liked having un-melted limbs.

The first head fell within minutes. She took the center one, aiming to give herself space when they all lunged at once. Then she took the rightmost, because it caught her shield and would have torn her arm from its socket if she hadn't moved quickly. Remaining heads shrieked with each loss.

But they weren't weakening. Instead, their eyes glowed brighter for every set that dulled. They became more coordinated. Necks that ended in stumps were flung out to smash her against the stone.

The hydra was down to three heads when she got cocky with evading it. Meredith managed to fling herself out of the way of another stump, the impact knocking her over and spraying the air with rubble. She picked herself up, keeping her eyes on the heads and gripping the hilt of her sword more tightly- when its tail snaked around and caught her full in the chest. It sent her flying. For an instant, her world was a topple of colors and shock. Then she hit ground.




Shrieking gave way to long, hissing breaths. Crashes settled into rumbles.  

Stillness. Peaceful darkness… Then pain. Actually, quite a lot of pain. And stone, and limbs tangled over each other. The sensations surfaced all at once, and Meredith groaned. Opened her eyes, only for sunlight to stab at the back of her skull.

“Oowth.”

She blinked. Then, after the delicate process of untying a human pretzel, she spat a mouthful of pebbles.

“Ouch,” she said, still tasting a combination of earth and what was probably her own liver.

Then something blocked the light above her, and she looked up to find a sky of black scales. The warrior lurched backward- straight into another wall of slick, serpentine muscle. Meredith couldn't help it; she yelped. Her hand clenched around air, and her mind raced drunkenly through memories in some attempt to find her weapon.

“Here, brave one.”

She jumped to face the other way. Bleary, orange eyes the size of dinner platters blinked back at her. The ruined face scraped toward her slowly, gingerly, until she felt metal against her boot. She looked down, stunned to find her sword at her feet.

It was the first head. The one she had taken for dead at the start. As she stared, a pained smile pulled along its jaw.

“This is yours, is it not? Take it.”

Her head still felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and not having any better ideas, she complied. “Why are you giving it back? Weren't you all trying to kill me?”

Except there was no “all.” Meredith found the remaining two heads dangling from partially-severed necks. Her fingers brushed over a now-concave hilt.

The hydra sounded apologetic. “I tried not to damage the handle,” it offered. “But I cannot finish what you started. That is for you.” Steam blossomed from its nostrils in a sigh.

Meredith took care not to inhale until it cleared. “Finish?”

It looked ruefully at the remains of the other six. “If you do not, we will rise and multiply to seventeen. Then we will continue to travel until we come to dwell in the Crown's Basin and poison your water. Your people will die fighting us, or they will die because of us. Is this not why you met us here?”

She nodded slowly. “I couldn't hope to stop you once you slipped back in the water,” she admitted. “Even like this… I'm alive because you helped me.” Bracing an arm over her chest, she gave a stiff bow. “Thank you.”

“You owe us nothing,” the head told her. Its tail wrapped around again. She flinched, but this time, it only tilted her chin up with its tip. “I am tired of wasting thousands so nine can remain.”

She couldn't guess how old it was. All the same, an ageless ache flowed from its bones into hers.

“I understand.”

And she did. Already, the stumps were beginning to hiss and steam. Lumps were starting to bubble through cauterized flesh. They would keep growing as long as any life remained in their body.

Meredith placed a hand on the creature's nose. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Yes, brave one. Make your first strike true.”

It had noticed, then, how her hold was unsteady. Taking a deep breath, Meredith clasped both hands around the hilt. “Close your eyes,” she said.