Demon Singer (37 page)

35 THE EIGHTH MEASURE

Hot, searing pain ripped through Lyric's body as he opened himself up to the hellfire.  Recalling Revelation's words, he prayed as he sang the discernment song.

Darkness, everywhere except there.  There was light, warmth, and peace.  There He wrote on a large scroll, the stylus glowed, as did the notes he penned. They sang from the page as he worked and I knew I must sing too.  Sing I did.  My brothers and sisters, we all sang. Our songs filled the sky, a reflection of His endless glory.

There was Wisdom, measuring the boundaries of the earth.  There was Genesis, speaking quietly to creation, introducing it to Him.  Joy of joys, Genesis spoke to me, whispered our Father’s name into my ear and told me of the important work I had to do in the Score.  Then the joy, the peace and warmth, the love and light were no longer there.  They were here.  I was no longer watching and singing from outside, I was part of it.  Mysteries far beyond the scope of His revealed creation were mine because He gave them to me.  To me.  Who was I to receive such trust? Such love?  Such responsibility?  He loved me completely with a love that eclipsed every other wonder he'd created.

A mystery I've never been given the answer to was Trytohn.  How did we allow ourselves to be fooled by our brother?  Our Father gave us everything we could ever want.  Trytohn promised us things the Father could not give us.  And he delivered.

Father could never give us pain, death, hate, bitterness, disappointment... heartbreak.

No longer here.

There.

Willingly and voluntarily, I left there and followed Trytohn.  We all did.  Michael stood against us and two thirds of father's children stood with him.  It wouldn’t have mattered.  Father's tears were enough to cast us from His presence. The Composer didn't cast us out.  We did it to ourselves.

Madness. Hate. Murder. Anger. Rage. Gluttony. Lust. Fear. Loathing. Greed. Vanity. Sloth. Pain.

Trytohn released us onto the Father's world.  We are cursed to live to the day of judgment.  No sleep for us.  No death.  No end.  But it isn't the Composer's curse.  It is ours.  He has blessed his faithful children to forget us completely.  We have cursed ourselves to remember.  We had heaven.  We chose death.  We created hell and we carry it with us.

Lyric's discernment song stopped as he sobbed uncontrollably.  The hatred he felt for Acheron melted away and was replaced by terrible sorrow.  Humming gently, soothingly he made his way along the tie, into the flaming torment of the demoness and began healing her body.  Seeing through her eyes he watched Johaus hit her again and again while Normvy laughed from the branches above.  His anger returning, Lyric began his battle song.

* * *

Cadence watched in frustration as her raptor blade bent on Allison's neck.  The demented singer laughed.

"I'm a soul singer little rat, it's going to take more than that!"  Then the singer sang a small motif that froze her in place.  

Cadence experienced a chill of horror as a familiar voice spoke behind her.

"He saved the ugly Singer from the boy like his mistress asked. Now he'd like to ask for this pretty pretty for a reward."

Allison laughed meanly.

"Oh I think that's a wonderful idea. I have one condition, Giderg.  Take a long time and make it hurt."

Suddenly Cadence, still immobilized, was being dragged away by familiar, slimy hands.

* * *

Keith Normvy watched slack jawed through his Verger’s eyes as the demoness caught Johaus’ fist and crushed it.  He felt the bones snap.  Not a big deal, the shifter could mend broken bones.  Far more concerning was the fact that mere seconds ago the demoness was dying.  Now she stood straight and her body flared with intense violet flames.  Normvy couldn’t stop Johaus as he let go of her and back peddled hurriedly.  The flames died down and there she stood, immaculate, lovely and deadly.  Normvy hadn’t been able to hear the song of Creation for years, ever since he met Allison Holt and Lisian.  For the first time he found himself searching for it to discern what was happening.  Looking closely at the demoness’ eyes he saw confirmation of his fear.  Lyric had learned the eighth measure.

Normvy shifted Johaus to reflect his own body, the one he’d lived in his whole life, the one with which he’d learned to fight.  Beginning his own battle song, he sent lightning flashing from his fists each time he landed a blow on the demoness.  Acheron absorbed them easily.  Building on Normvy’s idea, Lyric shunted the hellfire that burned inside him out through the demoness’ own fists.  Violet flames left black scorch marks on the Verger everywhere she struck him.  Lyric exalted in the power he felt as he beat the other Singer back.  

Then unbelievable agony from his back to his chest and he looked down with Acheron’s eyes to see a large yellow fist poking out of her chest holding the same odd knife Ceylan had tried to attack him with.  He’d forgotten again, misdirection.  His view through Acheron’s eyes dimmed and he found himself several yards back from the fighting, watching as the Johaus he’d been fighting disappeared and the real Johaus stood with his arm buried to the elbow through Acheron’s back.  

With a shock, he realized his tie to Acheron was severed.  He felt weak, tired, and frail.  He watched the demoness fall and soul crushing grief threatened to choke his voice off completely.  Then the steely determination that had saved him time after time took over.  Without thought or doubt, the Demon Singer raised his voice and cast his Soul Song through the trees.  Creation rested, watching the gossamer violet soul song wind through the air and among the trees, waiting for the downbeat.

It was with a strong sense of déjà vu that Lyric watched the explosion that occurred at the moment of their tie.  Normvy and Johaus were blown away like reeds in the wind.  The trees closest all leaned away from the beautiful demoness that stood in the center of the blast zone, beautifully unscathed.  But Lyric wasn’t done, the words of the prophecy echoed in his head and for the first time in known history, a soul singer sent out a second casting.

* * *

Cadence was up to her neck in the earth, Giderg standing over her, chuckling and preparing to do unspeakable things.  Suddenly a silence fell and a haunting echo raced ahead of the Demon Singer’s song.  It whispered in Giderg’s ear and he looked up in terror at the death that came for him on the wind.  It doesn’t stand to be caught between a Singer’s Song and his Verger.  The Violet cable shattered the gnome’s head as it passed through the top of his body and out the bottom to reach the woman buried in the dirt.

With a shock, Cadence felt the tie she’d felt on the Verge.  It pulled her out of the ground and raced all along her body, shattering the scar on her left wrist and coursing up her arm to her head.  Suddenly her thoughts were clear and her memories returned as Lyric’s soul song healed the damage done by Acheron’s attack.  

A voice came from outside the tent where Giderg had buried her.  Allison Holt came striding in demanding to know what the hell had happened.  

Cadence remembered her, she remembered herself, she remembered everything.  The Singer stopped short when she saw the bloody mess that used to be Giderg lying in the dirt.

“How the hell did you manage to break my song?”

Lyric’s thoughts came singing along the tie.  
Cadence, kill her.
 The warrior smiled.  She remembered what she could do. Cadence pulled her sword from the Verge, realizing that she had an entire arsenal at hand.  

“You fool,” Melody was unimpressed. “I’m a goddess, no one can stand against me.”

Drawing on the power of Lyric’s Soul Song, Cadence sent it ringing along her blade as she swung it in a deadly arc, severing the woman’s head from her body.  

“I’m the Demon Singer’s Verger, I’ll stand wherever I damn well please.”

* * *

Lyric and Acheron stood over Normvy’s prone body.  Johaus lay broken a few yards away.  The demoness squatted down next to the Singer and slapped him back to consciousness.  Lyric’s former teacher looked up in confusion, then terror as he realized his position.

“I wanted you awake for this.”  Acheron sat the Singer up and grabbed hold of both sides of his head.  Lyric looked away, not needing to watch her pull it off.  The sound it made was bad enough.

* * *

General Rondeaux watched as a commotion approached him from the left flank.  Three figures strode through his troops toward him.  His soldiers hurried to get out of the way.  Lyric, Acheron and Cadence stood before the general, the demoness held two heads.  Rondeaux felt his entire world go sideways.  The Singer he couldn’t care less about, he found the man repellent.  But there, held carelessly by the hair was the visage of his goddess, his reason for living.  The only reason he was sending thousands of souls to their deaths on the spears of the Milleytes Lux.  Acheron threw the heads at his feet.

“General Rondeaux.  This war is finished.”  Lyric said.  The general looked at the young man.  He’d aged in the last twenty-four hours.  “Order an immediate and complete withdrawal.  We have no interest in prisoners or vengeance.  Enough blood has been spilled needlessly in the name of this woman.  She is no goddess.  She was a woman, she was evil and now she is dead.”  Lyric fixed Rondeaux with a steely look.  “This is your one opportunity, general.  Refuse and you will die and
I
will disband your army.”

“The problem is, young man, this army has been compelled to fight to the death.  There is no stopping them while I live.”  

The air vibrated with the tension as Cadence and Acheron waited for Lyric to give the word.

“Don’t do this, general, call them off.  Compel them to stop.”

Rondeaux smiled sadly.

“It doesn’t work that way, boy.  I wish I’d met you first.”  The general whipped his sword out and lunged for Lyric.  Cadence moved faster and the general’s head joined the two on the ground.

Lyric didn’t bother hiding the tears that came.  He was so tired of needless death.  He looked at the general’s messenger pointedly.  The white-faced young man, younger even than Lyric, raised the flag for retreat.  A slow roar built up, filling the air and confusing Lyric at first until he realized that the army was free of Rondeaux’s compulsion.  They were cheering.

* * *

Generals Sabre and Tagshout stood atop the Western tower with Lyric and his companions.  

“Markhato's going to have a hard time in the months ahead.  At least three of the kings were well loved.  With Ceylan dead, your mother missing and the absence of any other heirs, you alone stand to inherit the throne."  Sabre said.

Lyric shook his head.

"Even if I was so inclined, my vows forbid me to accept any position of political power.  It's time to elect new kings."

"Will the Soul Singers Guild send help?”

Lyric nodded silently, watching the unbeaten legion carefully and respectfully tend the wounded and dead of both sides.  

“We don’t need their help,” Tagshout growled.  “We’ll be fine, just leave us be.”

“General Sabre, you are an excellent leader.  I’m leaving you in charge.”  Lyric said. Tagshout looked like he was about to explode at Lyric's casual audacity.  Lyric smiled at him. “Tagshout, you’re an asshole.  If your men hadn't performed so admirably over the past few days I'd dissolve you're commission.  Try to be more reasonable.”  

Lyric waited, giving the man an opportunity to respond.  When the general choked down his anger and remained silent the Singer nodded.

"Gentlemen, my business here is concluded.  It's time to find my mother.  Thank you for your service to this city and these people.  More importantly, thank you for your service to the Composer." Without another word, he turned and left.

* * *

They drove in silence for a while, simply enjoying the prospect of peace when Lyric’s phone rang.  

“Lyric,” Nit’s voice sounded unusually sober.

“What’s up, Nit?  We’re on our way back.”

“Ervin sent me word, Lyric.  He was dead by the time I got there.”