Demon Singer (31 page)

"May I speak, sir?"  Lyric addressed his grandfather, but combover replied.

"That's the point of your presence here."

"I have reliable information concerning the impending attack on Markhato."  No one spoke, so Lyric continued.  "The crazy woman, Melody, has convinced her army she's a goddess and you are the enemy."

"A few thousand rabble rousers to give our troops something to do for a day or so.  Who cares if they believe she's an egg salad?  It makes no difference."  Combover sounded unimpressed.

"Voice Master Lomong cares, so does the High Master.  The Soul Singers Guild teaches there is no deadlier foe than the man protecting his family.  Second only to that is the man who believes in what he's fighting for.  You're facing both.   Melody's prophet spreads fear like a disease.  She uses it to steel her army against the 'tyranny of the kings of Markhato'.  Her army isn't some fringe element of society.  It is comprised of talented, intelligent supernaturals and humans who believe you are heartless despots who oppress them and threaten the future of their children.  To them,
you
are the threat, and their families are at risk.

"Beyond that though, whatever you face from the east with Melody, it in no way compares with what's approaching you from the west.  Melody's General, Rondeaux has over a million soldiers of the same nature preparing to annihilate you from behind while she distracts you from the front."

"This idea is ludicrous, Lyric." Chab's wobbly face expressed his disdain.  "Where would these soldiers come from?  An army that size would be hard to miss.  We've had spies inside Melody's cult for over two years.  Our information comes from experienced, trusted agents who have no hidden agendas and have not spent the last several months under the corruptive influence of a demon."

"Demoness.  Your spies have been compromised, Master Chab.  Melody's general has the ability to control minds and memories.  If it wasn't for Acheron, I'd still be under his control, and so would Cadence for that matter.  He elicits absolute obedience.  His front man is a fake healer named Peter Falspoh.  He does the soft sell to get them listening and wondering.  Rondeaux meets them and starts his work, shaping minds, bending wills like clay.  Even without mind control, he's incredibly charismatic.  His soldiers will consider it a privilege to die for him.  And Markhato will be lost.  You
have
to listen to me."

"We have listened." Lyric turned at the resonant sound of his grandfather's voice.  "We have listened carefully and openly to a young man tied to a demon, responsible for the severe injury of one of his teachers and who seems to be leaving a trail of chaos in his wake."  Though he had never before met David Westfall, Lyric recognized the look on his face.   His mother had the look before she said something she knew he wouldn't like.  "The people who know you best are either..." the man stopped taking and looked down for a moment before continuing.  "They are either missing, dead or have declared you Fallen from Grace and a danger to the world.

"Markhato is not defenseless.  Besides the Milleytes Lux, there are protections against spirit creatures.   Even your demon can't enter without our knowledge and permission.  And yes, we know she snuck past the front gate.  We let her.

"As for you, your sentence is death.  Because you are the son of my daughter, that sentence will be served in the dungeons of Markhato, where you will exist until the Composer ends your part."

Lyric went numb.  

Chab protested loudly.

"Your majesty, I appreciate your zeal in taking care of this matter but I strongly recommend you let master Fishne and me take Lyric back to the Guild to face our justice."

David Westfall turned a cold look on Chab.

"Do you have an issue with my decree, Master Singer Chab?"

"No, your majesty, we simply like handling our own messes.  It would be much safer for you and your home if we were to take him with us."

"My order stands, Master Chab.  If your master would like to take issue with it he's welcome to visit anytime."

The icy tone of Westfall's voice was clear.  Chab inclined his head and kept his silence.

Lyric didn't even notice the men who took him and Cadence from the room, down several flights of stairs into a large room where a group of guards stripped them both down and put them in plain cotton pants and shirts.   

Cadence was not allowed to keep a glove, so her black scar was visible.  It was hard not to stare.  

They were taken to a cell and locked in together with another man.  

"Hello," he greeted them warmly.  "My name is Fugue.  Welcome to the ass end of Markhato."

28 FUGUE AND CEYLAN

Lyric examined Fugue.  He looked easy to miss.  They seemed to be the same age, though Fugue was a few inches shorter than Lyric with sandy blonde hair.  He was handsome without being strikingly so, and had a pleasant smile.  Perhaps the strangest thing about him was how comfortable he seemed to be, as if locked in a cell at the bottom of a mountain was no different from lounging on a couch watching football.

"Lyric." The Singer identified himself.

Fugue's demeanor changed as he stood up excitedly and approached with hand outstretched.   Pumping Lyric's hand enthusiastically, he said.

"Damn, son, you're the Demon Singer!  It's an honor," he beamed with delight.  Crow's feet caused Lyric to adjust his estimation of the man's age.  Withdrawing his hand, he eyed Fugue warily.

"What are you talking about?"

Fugue looked perplexed.

"Aren't you the soul singer who tied a demon instead of a Verger?"

"Who are you?" Lyric asked coolly.

"Qui Fugerit, friends call me Fugue.  Soldier of fortune, swordsman, and cursed with the second sight but no magic of my own.  In fact, magic tends to bounce off me for some reason.  Mostly I hire out as a bodyguard for caravans.  For the last few weeks I've been incarcerated here."  Fugue chatted easily as though they were old friends.  "Not as pleasant as my first stay in Markhato, but a hell of a lot better than mucking out centaur motels.  I just came across the Pacific with a group of zombies looking for work.  Rumor has it, Markhato is looking for cheap labor to reinforce the city against the impending invasion.   Between you and me, I think they're looking for cannon fodder.   Anyway, there was a whole crew of Polynesian undead wanting to get away from the islands-"

"Why did you call me the Demon Singer?"  Lyric cut in, noting in his peripheral vision that Cadence was staring intently at Fugue.

"Sorry, is it supposed to be a secret?" Fugue smiled easily.  "I hope not, the whole city is abuzz with stories of the Demon Singer, and how he's coming to Markhato to pave the way for Melody and her army.  Between you, me and the rats, half the city wants her to win."

"I suppose you're part of that half?" Lyric said acerbically.

"Not me," Fugue threw his hands up as though to ward off stray accusations.  "I'm part of the crowd who thinks you're one of the good guys.  I heard tell of a troop of goblins that were killed by the Demon Singer out east.  A number of werewolves were killed out in a factory.  He could have killed a whole lot of people in Boston at some kind of school, but forced his demon not to kill anyone.  Rumor has it, one of the Guardians has even fought on his behalf.  The Demon Singer is a hero to a lot of people.  They think
you're
the one who will stop Melody."

"I never said I was the Demon Singer." Lyric pointed out.  "And if you're one of the good guys why are you in here?"

"I applied to the Milleytes Lux.  The captain who interviewed me said I glow weird and so I'm an unnecessary risk and one that is easily remedied.  So they stuck me here to keep me safely out of the way."

"He's right, you do glow weird."  Acheron's voice caused Lyric to jump involuntarily.  This was hilarious to Acheron.  Fugue smiled.

"You
are
the Demon Singer!"

"What the hell is a demon singer?  I'm just a Singer."  Lyric said flatly.  Fugue shrugged.

"Have it your way.  A lot of people are excited about what your arrival in Markhato means.  Truth is I don't know what a demon singer is. But the way your pretty friend showed up just now looked pretty demonic to me."  He leered at Acheron who responded with a wink. "I'd say being the Demon Singer isn't all that bad if that's your demon."

"Um, look around," Lyric gestured to their cell.  "I'm in a real, honest to goodness dungeon in the United States of America in the twenty first century.  I'd say my arrival doesn't mean much, regardless of who you think I am."

Lover, this guy is impossible.

What do you mean?

He doesn't glow weird; he's completely invisible to my demon sight.

That was interesting.

"Who were you before you were a bodyguard for zombies?"  Lyric asked.

"Oh, this and that.  I've smelted silver in Peru, fished for mermaids in the Antarctic, trained soldiers in Germany, I even worked in a bank once."

"I'm sorry, did you say you fished for mermaids?"  Lyric frowned.  "Why would you do that?"

"Because I got paid."  Fugue met Lyric's gaze without a flicker of guilt.  "I'm not wealthy enough to have scruples.  I'll do whatever pays to feed myself."

Lyric didn't respond.  He'd met all sorts in his travels and the fact was Fugue was far from the worst he'd encountered. At least he was honest.

They all turned at the sound of soft footsteps.  Lyric suddenly believed in love at first sight.

A beautiful young woman stood at the door of the cell with a food-laden tray.  She stopped and frowned as though confused.

"Aaah, Ceylan my lovely, have you come to spirit me away from it all?"  Fugue asked lightly.

"I thought you only had two guests, Fugue."

Acheron smoked through the bars to stand beside the girl.  Ceylan jumped back in surprise, almost losing her tray.

"I'm just visiting, but you're hot.  Wanna party?"  The demoness turned her megawatt smile in the girl and it bounced off ineffectively.

"If you don't belong in there you should probably leave." Ceylan said flatly.  "Hellions don't do too well in Markhato."

"Your wish and all that," Acheron curtsied prettily and smoked out.

"She's... lovely." Ceylan seemed to struggle with finding a diplomatic descriptive.

"Yes, she's a whore," Lyric finally spoke; shaking off the stupor the pretty girl's arrival had sent him into.  "Your name is Ceylan?"

"Yes sir," the woman's excellent posture and gracious manner set her apart from what one might typically expect of a jailor.

"Ceylan, no offense but you don’t seem like a prison attendant."

The woman smiled kindly at Lyric and his heart beat harder.

"I strive to be completely present, wherever I am.  And as your religion has taught me, my place is to serve the Composer.  I accomplish that best by serving others."

"You know of my religion?" The soul singer struggled to keep up his end of the conversation without sounding like a complete idiot.

"I've been fortunate to be instructed in all major religions and most of the lesser known.  Your own has captured me.  Singer Talbot has taught me much about your beliefs.  It is the only religion I've found where a person's position in the afterlife is secured not by what they do, but in Whom they believe.  It's beautiful, and remarkably freeing. So I've embraced the Song of Creation and serve him with all that is in me."  The raven-haired beauty continued down the hallway to deliver food to other cells.

Her words made good sense and served to increase the odd aching in his heart at her beauty.  It defied logic.  Both Acheron and Cadence were more pleasing to the eye, but something about this woman instantly resonated deep inside the singer. Two instants changed his life.  The first was his reaction to seeing her and realizing that love at first sight was a real thing. The second instant closely followed the first and was, perhaps, the more important of the two.  It was the instant he realized he would love her with a ferocity that immediately and permanently diminished every other priority in his world.

Still feeling shocked at the severity of his reaction he looked at Fugue next to him who was watching him closely.  Clapping his hand on Lyric's shoulder, he smiled sympathetically.

"You too, huh?"

"Who is she?"

"Ceylan Branigan, daughter of King Thomas Branigan and princess of Markhato.  Rumor has it she's only half-human.  Thomas got drunk one night and had an affair with a wild fairy.  Twelve years later Ceylan shows up on the castle doorstep asking to see her father.  Thomas was so smitten with her that he's raised her as his own."

This confusing revelation was interrupted by a tremendous crash.  The dungeon shook and guards went running by.

Lyric watched Ceylan flee up the hall, his heart threatening to rip in half at her absence.    He knew exactly what was happening.   Meeting Cadence's eyes, she nodded grimly at the Singer.  Acheron swirled into existence between them, smiling happily as she announced.

"Markhato is under attack."