Battle with Pendor dragons

Ged's battle with the dragons of Pendor marks his first great feat of wizardry after leaving Roke, a confrontation that tests his courage, his mastery of names, and his ability to act decisively under immense pressure. Sent to the westernmost township of Low Torning to protect its fisherfolk from the threat of nine dragons that had laired on the ruined isle of Pendor, Ged found himself trapped between a looming dragon attack and the shadow that hunted him. Rather than wait helplessly, he chose to take the fight to the enemy, a decision that would transform him from a haunted apprentice into a dragonlord and a hero sung of in the isles.

Background and Motivation

Ged had been sent to Low Torning by the Archmage Gensher, who judged the township's fear of the dragons well-founded. The old Dragon of Pendor had spawned nine young, and they were growing, their hunger stirring. A flight of four had already been seen spying out the villages of Hosk. Ged, however, was also driven by a personal urgency: the shadow he had loosed on Roke Knoll was drawing near, and he felt that staying in one place made him a target. He asked the Head Isle-Man for leave to go to Pendor, saying, "I must go from here. I ask your leave to rid you of the dragon-peril first, if I can do so." The Isle-Man and the other fishermen thought it folly, but Ged sailed westward, using the magewind for speed, fearing what was behind him more than what lay ahead.

The Course of the Battle

Ged approached Pendor in a small boat, and at the harbor entrance he summoned the dragon: "Usurper of Pendor, come defend your hoard!" A young dragon, thin-winged and spiny-backed, flew at him, but Ged bound its wings and limbs stiff with a sharp spell and sent it hurtling into the sea. Two more rose from the tower, and he caught both, drowning them as well. Then three came against him at once, one of them much larger and breathing fire. Ged, seeing no binding spell would catch all three, worked a spell of Changing and flew up from his boat in dragon-form. He met two head-on, withering them with fire, and then turned to the third, a larger dragon also armed with fire. In a fierce aerial duel, Ged flew upward, then stooped like a hawk, striking the other down by neck and flank. The Pendor dragon tore free and fled, hiding in the ruined town. Ged returned to his own form, his hands black with scalding wormblood, and called out the remaining dragons.

The Confrontation with Yevaud

The highest tower then seemed to change shape, and Ged realized it was the shoulder of the Old Dragon of Pendor, Yevaud, uncurling his bulk. He was lean as a hound and huge as a hill, his scales grey-black, his spike-crowned head rising higher than the broken tower. Ged stared in awe, knowing that no song or tale could prepare the mind for this sight. The dragon spoke in the Old Speech, which binds a man to truth but which dragons can twist. Yevaud offered to tell Ged the name of the shadow that hunted him, but Ged, though tempted, set hope aside. He had staked his venture on a guess drawn from old histories of dragon-lore: that this Dragon of Pendor was the same that had spoiled the west of Osskil in the days of Elfarran and Morred, and had been driven from Osskil by a wizard wise in names. The guess held. Ged spoke the dragon's name: "Yevaud." At the sound of it, the old dragon held still. Ged then demanded an oath: "Yevaud! Swear by your name that you and your sons will never come to the Archipelago." Flames broke from the dragon's jaws, and he swore it by his name.

Consequences and Significance

Ged returned to Low Torning, where the people rejoiced, lighting bonfires and singing the Song of the Sparrowhawk. The dragon-peril was averted, and Ged's deed became legend. Yet the victory was bittersweet: his friend Pechvarry, whose son Ged had failed to save, now looked at him with fear and reproach. Ged left Low Torning soon after, driven onward by the shadow that still pursued him. The battle with the dragons of Pendor established Ged as a dragonlord and a wizard of great power, but it also deepened his isolation and set the stage for the greater hunt that lay ahead. The oath he extracted from Yevaud, binding the dragon by his true name, stands as a testament to the principle that true naming is the core of magic, and that even the most ancient and terrible of beings can be bound by a word spoken with knowledge and will.