Lyric stared at the crazy old man in confusion.
“What do you want?”
“What will you give?”
“I don’t have anything!” Lyric said pulling his pack off his back and opening the zipper. “Clothes, granola bars, a water bottle, some jam.” Lyric’s finger traced the label on the jam jar from Aunt Bea, then he looked up at Joe. “You want my jam?”
“I do enjoy jam,” Joe said simply.
Lyric shook his head in frustration, was this crazy old man really a prophet? Could he help or was he just an insane hermit who liked to torment Errol? He sighed and held the jar out.
“Are you offering me this jam, Lyric? Is this a gift offered freely without compunction, or a price that must be paid?"
"You really are crazy aren't you?" Lyric's exasperation began to get the better of him. "It's a payment you're demanding in exchange for information I'm becoming less enthusiastic about obtaining. Do you want the jam or not?"
The old man snatched the jam and hid it in his jacket.
"I do not, but your answers tell me what I need to tell you. With all you have learned in the last several years in the Guild and on the road you are still lacking in places. Learn to develop grace. Then you’ll find things often work out the way they should, even if it’s uncomfortable or painful..."
"Are you trying to tell me I’m stuck with this demon?" Lyric cut in angrily. “Because that’s not okay. Even if I wanted to stay with her, the Guild will declare me fallen and have me killed within a year if I don’t sever this tie.”
“Demoness,” the Prophet Man corrected. “And I'm telling you the respect you promised her on Dacapo should be real, not merely lip service. You're tied to her with what is supposed to be an unbreakable bond that you are determined to break. You are in debt to Hell for, what, six more payments after trying to kill me and smashing poor Errol’s house?” Lyric flushed with shame. “Your infernal companion is correct by the way, there is more coming, but you'll discover that soon enough. You are going to need all the help you can get. It's time to grow up, stop crying about your situation and deal with what lies ahead of you with courage, grace and dignity."
Joe eyed him for a moment as though waiting for him to interrupt again. When he didn't, the old man continued.
"Acheron is dangerous, evil and brilliant. And you will never survive what's ahead without her. Like so many of us, she is unbalanced. She had paradise and was conned out if it. Acheron is not a servant of the darkness; she is a slave to it. She will torment you and try to corrupt you. If you lose your way, she may even destroy you. You have so many things to learn young Singer, before you will be able to safely sever this tie." The old man's expression became sad. "Part of me would save you from the lessons that lay ahead. That part of me that is the selfish old man who looks at you and sees a son he lost." His voice broke and his expression became hard. "The truth continues though, the lessons we learn best are the ones we live through, not the ones we're told. You came for a prophecy, you've paid the price. Listen close:
The Light of Markhato faces darkness. A deceptive song from the east veils the desolation approaching from the west. A prayer for a giant will be answered. That day betrayal will destroy a family and heartbreak will lead to healing. A Singer’s grief will split the mark, allowing Verger shackles to free the Soldier. The Hunter will die, his work will perish, but his story will continue. The Beautiful One will be chained by the Fugitive and the Dark Flower. The Fugitive will cast away the Flower, but not before the tie is broken. The Hunter will return and with the help of his brother, they will open the way for the beginning to enter the den of the Beautiful One. There he will find that hidden by the Composer. The Key will be restored and lost again and only the Fugitive’s child can find it. The Beautiful One will come again with the Dark Flower. When they all gather in the hills, the Hunter and his brother will bring the fugitive to rest. His child will find the Key again, and when he does, glory will light the sky.”
Lyric stared at the old man for a moment before saying, "what the crap was that? Are you serious? Did that even mean anything, or did you just string together some inane mystical bullshit? Give me my jam back."
"Prophecies are funny things, but if you seek understanding in earnest, the answers will make sense."
"What do I do now? I need to know where to begin! Can't you just give me a straight answer?"
The Prophet Man pointed west.
"Go straight that way."
I should probably have my blood pressure checked. Lyric thought as he choked down his frustration, bitterness laced his farewell.
"You're a dick."
The Prophet Man slapped him across the face.
“Watch your mouth, boy.”
Lyric clenched his fists and prepared to level the man when he realized he was wrong. Conviction hit him like a ton of bricks and he almost staggered under the realization that everything the Prophet Man said to him about himself was absolutely true. Mind reeling with confusion, guilt and anger Lyric forced himself to breathe deep. Calming himself, he met the steady eyes of the Prophet Man who remained still, waiting.
“I apologize, Joe, my behavior, attitude and perspective are all inappropriate. Please forgive me.”
Joe smiled warmly and handed Lyric his jam.
“I forgive you, Lyrical Sound of the Evening. Now call your Demoness and let’s get ready.”
"Ready for what?"
"Whoever holds your contract placed a tracking spell in that stone you dropped. They're on their way here to kill me."
14 OF COURSE
Acheron arrived and stood beside Lyric in silence after his call. Cadence took up position on his opposite side, staring warily into the eerie mist that rose suddenly from the ground. Lyric noticed the vapor was so thick it muffled the sound of Creation.
"Smart," said the old man beside him. "Whoever holds your contract is bashful. They've sent Shadow Wights. They tend to be problematic to the likes of me. Perhaps the Composer will look favorably on our plight."
A sound of rushing wind and a startled grunt and suddenly Acheron was gone.
"Then again, sometimes we are expected to make use of gifts already given." Joe cackled loudly and leapt into the thick mist. Lyric could hear him for a moment seeming to struggle with someone when abruptly the sound stopped. The mist seemed to follow the Prophet, clearing a bit around Lyric and Cadence.
Lyric adjusted his stance, standing back to back with Cadence. As usual, the little warrior seemed at ease, a long knife in each hand she stared calmly into the fog.
Acheron, where are you? Lyric thought.
Busy, I'll be with you in a moment. Don't get yourself killed. Acheron responded. Lyric picked up an image of a tremendous face that belonged in a nightmare. It was surrounded by brightly colored people with odd wings, shaped like a butterfly but feathered like a macaw.
The same sourness that preceded the attack on Da Capo filled the air, so Lyric forced himself to concentrate on the present threat. The song of Creation was not just muffled here, it was discordant. He couldn't find the root. Sweat broke out on his brow as the import of that fact struck him like a physical blow. Never, since his first measure, had he been unable to discern the music of the spheres.
A massive hulking shape appeared out of the mist in the bayou. Lyric stared in increasing alarm as the massive troll approached. It bore a striking resemblance to the Verger tied to Master Normvy; it even had the same yellow cast to it. If Lyric didn't know better he'd think he was facing Johaus, only this monster made Johaus look like a child. As he continued trying to find a suitable key, a blur of motion distracted him. Cadence was hurtling at the troll, knives in hand. A dark blue streak appeared and collided with the small warrior, sending her spinning away into the mist. Lyric watched helplessly as two more Hellhounds appeared out of the gloom and followed the first one in pursuit of Lyric's protector.
The Singer focused on the troll that was slogging through the mud toward him. Breathi
ng a prayer, he did something he'd never done since becoming a soul singer. He ignored his surroundings and simply sang. The discord jangled inside him all the way to his toes. Gritting his teeth, he sang through it and forced his song to take precedence. Bending the very air to his will, he used a song from Mistress Holt's book and pulled together a ball of pressure. Focusing between his hands, he built it, directed it and released it at the troll. The air warped around the invisible ball. Lyric watched as it crashed into the giant troll, forcing it back a pace.
Undaunted, the enormous beast continued its approach.
Recalling his town, Lyric summoned the same fire he'd destroyed the goblins with, only this time it was focused and controlled. Leaping to do his bidding, the flames poured out of the sky and flowed over the beast, like liquid fire. A deep howl erupted from the column of flame and Lyric released it, letting it dissipate. The troll remained, blackened and smoking, but still moving. Almost to him.
* * *
Acheron flitted gracefully through the deadly parade of Brazilian Fairies that had grabbed her from Lyric's side. They'd deposited her in a warded circle that was stopping her from smoking out. Given a chance to focus, she could break free of the barrier, but every time she tried, one of these psychotic dolphin-faced bastards attacked her. She could fight them or fight the barrier, but not both at once.
She glanced at giant face in annoyance. An old demon slept there. She didn't know who it was but the energy beneath the surface seemed pretty damn potent. She'd wondered what the point of this was, Fairies couldn't kill her. Then she noticed. Every time she killed one, another would take its blood and smear it on the dormant face.
It was a waking ritual! They were sacrificing themselves in combat to awaken their deity. Blood spilled in violence carried a curse that would make sure whoever was sleeping woke up good and pissed. Not a bad plan if they were looking to give her trouble.
Why did this face seem familiar? It looked half-human, half-porcine.
Oh shit, they found Legion.
* * *
Clouds. Stupid clouds that get in your ears and your eyes. Stupid clouds with sharp teeth and poor manners. After everything he'd lived through, Joe completely refused to be done in by stupid, bitey clouds.
"C'mon you bastards, let's have it. You aren't here just to separate me from the boy. That stone was meant to bring down more than a tree."
A bit of ephemera separated itself from the fog and floated toward the old man. Joe watched it approach with an insane glee that masked his guilty hope. Perhaps his sentence was at an end. Maybe the Composer meant to bring him home at last. Of course, he would fight. It was his nature to fight. Besides, not resisting the deadly embrace of the shadow wights was tantamount to committing suicide. He didn't want to answer for that. Prophets weren't allowed to suicide. But he was tired and oh, how he longed for the promise of paradise.
The wight reached him and he summoned his gift. Not allowed to sing any more, but prophets were never defenseless; Joe allowed the power to course through his arms and manifest itself in his open palm. A small, brilliant ball of white light took shape.
The Light of the Voice. Harmless to any who worshipped the Composer, the Voice and the Singer. Lethal to any who didn't.
Holding his hand out toward the shadow wight, he smiled as it shrank away.
"You came looking for a fight. Don't run already."
A flick of his wrist and the light shot into the retreating creature. Wights don't make noise; still, it was easy to imagine it shrieking as it exploded from the inside out.
Joe summoned two more balls of the Light of the Voice and waited. He didn't have long to wait.
* * *
Cadence saw the Hellhound in her peripheral vision just before it struck. Reversing the blade in her hand, she drove it into the roof of the creature's mouth, to prevent it from biting. It didn't work. The knife was wrenched from her grasp as the creature's jaw snapped shut and she yanked her hand out just in time. Its head lowered and collided with her. She was sent flying through the air from the beast's attack. Rolling into a ball, she braced herself for impact. As soon as she struck the ground, she flattened out on her stomach and skidded to a stop.
Immediately on her feet, she hurled her second knife at the second hound and jumped aside as the trio charged straight at her, oblivious to her small weapons.
Pulling her sword from its concealment, she turned to face them as they wheeled about and paused, waiting for her to experience the fear they fed on.
They were big, strong, fast, and tireless. Cadence considered her options. Immediately a fragment of memory came dancing out of the fog in her head. A man she knew to be her mentor came to mind and his advice on how to handle a situation where she was outgunned, outmuscled or both.
Smiling wickedly, Cadence attacked.
* * *
Lyric leapt back as the huge brute swept an enormous fist downward, trying to crush his head.
The Singer tried again to focus on the sound of Creation, but the discord was so great it was impossible to hear. Without it, he couldn't manipulate his surroundings. Frustrated he attempted to again sing his own song. The troll kept swinging at him. Lyric kept evading the blows. If even one connected, he would be in serious trouble. A few times he started singing, and then had to duck a huge fist, breaking his vocal line.
What to do? He couldn't manipulate the troll due to its resistance to magic. He couldn't manipulate surroundings due to the weird dissonance in the air. Casting about for a solution, he moved too slow and got clipped in the shoulder by the giant troll. A crunching sound and tremendous pain eclipsed everything else for a brief moment. Then his arm went numb, hanging uselessly at his side.
Panic seemed the catalyst he required to face the troll. Sprinting away from the beast, he turned toward it and sang an odd tune far removed from his common melodies.
Brief and powerful, Lyric's song laid a hold of his body and surrounded him with a projection from his mind. The troll lumbered toward him, intent on putting an end to the Singer. As Lyric rose into the air and the product of his song coalesced into his desired outcome the Troll paused in confusion.
There, where the soul singer had been just seconds ago stood an enormous troll, even bigger than his adversary. Lyric couldn't believe the song had worked; he'd never attempted anything like this before. Assessing his new body, he reveled in the power, but noticed his arm was still numb and limp. Regardless, the Lyric troll stomped forward, preparing to engage the smaller beast.
Refusing to be intimidated, the yellow troll took a swing at Lyric troll and sent him sprawling. Lyric tried to flip to his feet and succeeded only in flopping about like a beached whale. This body wasn't built for swift or graceful movement. Struggling to stand up, Lyric presented a perfect target for his enemy. A powerful kick to his ribs sent Lyric flying. A large tree stopped his momentum and he slid down the trunk to the ground, groaning in pain.
Busted shoulder, broken ribs, he needed to turn the tables soon. Rolling to his knees, he forced himself to his feet as the Troll approached. An odd intelligence seemed to be in the beast's eyes. They screamed hatred at him. It swung a fist at his head, which he blocked with his good hand. This left him open to the troll's wicked right hook. Lyric's head exploded in pain and he staggered back from the blow. All he could think was how glad he was that he wasn't taking this punishment in his normal body.
The troll refused to give Lyric any room to breathe, pressing forward to continue his assault. In desperation, the soul singer resorted to an ugly tactic and put all of his frustration and fear into his right leg, which he then delivered to the troll's crotch.
The creature made a loud whuffing sound and stepped back a pace. No wanting to lose the advantage, Lyric surged forward and began pummeling the Troll with his good arm.
It attempted to ward off his blows at first, but his adrenaline had finally gotten into sync with his anger. He beat its guard aside and rained hate down on the creature's head. H
e couldn't believe the amount of punishment the beast was taking. The troll fell to its knees and Lyric took that as his cue to switch it up. Thrusting his foot out he tried kicking through the troll's chest. That didn't work, but the brute did take flight similar to the way Lyric had. It flew so far he lost sight of it in the mist.
Lyric pursued the creature to ensure its surrender or destruction. He was surprised to discover the troll seemed to have vanished.
Suddenly the discord that had bothered him resolved and the Song of Creation was once again clear.
Pain shot through his body as the song that forced his body into troll form clashed with the beauty around him. Reflexively he released the song and his body reverted to its natural state. Immediately the pain subsided and he was left with the dull ache in his shoulder and fire in his ribs. At least the sour taint to the air was gone.
Forcing discomfort aside, the soul singer went in search of his companions.
* * *
Acheron had changed her tactic. She stopped rending the fairies apart, thereby stemming the flow of blood. She didn't know who'd win between her and Legion, but even after two millennia, she hadn't forgotten that he was completely revolting. He also had a disgusting infatuation with her that she refused to indulge.
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