Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
I moved quickly through Song, my heart beating rapidly as I got deeper and deeper in the dark, twisting area known as the maze. The cavern was lower here, so it felt like we were in underground tunnels. It was the least civilized part of an extremely uncivilized world. But I was wearing elven armor, and I had an ogre with me, as well as my harp, my trusty friend that Rook had made better than new.
I was past the court of burning, where the car-sized ball of fire, infernal flames of darkest red to black, licked swirling around the heavenly fire in orange-gold to white. I couldn’t help staring at the impossible sight before shaking my head and continuing on. I wasn’t here to gawk at the local sights, however creepily fascinating they were. It did make you think, though, about mortality, death, good and evil, and how much of that played inside your own soul. Was I acting according to the dictates of my conscience, or was I really only motivated by money and music?
I shook my head and continued walking faster. I had no time for doubt if I was going to use the goblin attack to my advantage. Heavens knows I’d paid for it with enough pain, and even worse itching.
I stopped in front of a low building that looked small, nondescript, and it was, because the actual structure was buried beneath street level and went on for miles into the rock wall behind it. The former music master had made very detailed maps of Song, and if I’d learned anything from my father, it was to know the terrain before you attacked.
“Here?” Lanise looked at me like I’d gone insane. This was on the very edge of Song and looked as lifeless and desolate as a place could. It was too quiet, too empty to possibly be a good place to have a concert.
“Sure. Here, if you put the platform down next to the lamp, I’ll set it up.”
She slowly lowered it down, and I busied myself, expanding the legs, and tapping the braces so the whole thing wouldn’t collapse under Lanise’s weight. Once it was set up, three feet off the ground, I climbed up and pulled out my harp.
“Come on, Lanise. This is the moment we’ve been waiting for.”
If how slowly she pulled out the harp she’d carried on her back was any indication, she had not been waiting for this moment. After thumping the platform so it shook, she climbed up and stared at me. “Now?”
I strummed my harp. “Now we play. Do you see that streetlamp? It’s almost entirely out. We’re going to bring it back to life. You know the song we played earlier? It’s the first maintenance spell that will help clean out the lamp and bring it to life. Go ahead.”
She looked at me like, ‘and we needed a platform to clean a lamp?’ but she only played the first line of the maintenance spell, and the lamp immediately flickered brighter before it once again went dark. Hm. Looks like someone had put some magic into keeping that lamp burning very low. I glanced over at the shack. I wonder who that could have been.
I played a particular number of notes, hard, staccato, and the lamp flared up and, with a popping crackle, continued burning, blue flame mixed with gold until it made the first sounds it had in who knows how long. The lamp sang so badly, so out of tune, that even Lanise shuddered.
It was like nails on a chalkboard, but I ignored it, and continued playing the song that would bring it back. I played around Lanise while she kept on with that simple tune, and eventually I noticed the first shadow moving in the distance around the lamp. A predator. Obviously. Everything down here was a predator, but I had an ogre with me. Still, one ogre for however many mangy werewolves lived in this part of town…
Of course, I also had my harp. I’d killed a lot of people with my music, and while that was something I’d put behind me, I wouldn’t feel bad using my knowledge of war magic to defend myself and my ogre assistant if it came to it. Of course, that would also damage the city, and since we were underneath another city, that could very well kill us if it collapsed. War magic was definitely a worst-case scenario.
“Music Master,” Lanise murmured, obviously seeing the moving shadows, but she kept playing her part like a trooper.
“Yes, I agree. The lamp is absolutely the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. We’re heroes, Lanise, saving the abandoned lamp on the edge of the undercity like truly noble warriors.”
She snorted.
Yes, well, she needed to work on her propaganda. There was no cause noble enough that it didn’t need propaganda. Finally, with a tinkling sigh, the lamp was in tune, and it played its part of the Singsong symphony with the sweet enthusiasm of a lamp that had been left in the dark for far too long.
“All right, Lanise, now transition to the second part we worked on.”
She fumbled over her strings until she finally landed on the right combination of notes that left a solid beat and chord progression for me to build upon. She was as steady as a metronome, which may have been a symptom of her lack of expression, but she was definitely exactly what I wanted for this attack. I mean, performance.
I heard a distant howl. No, that wasn’t very distant come to think of it, but I didn’t think about it, or notice the shiver it sent down my spine, not when I had strings to pluck. I started singing, because I needed to get the platform operable before any of the predators decided that an ogre with a harp wasn’t enough of a threat to keep my pretty throat from getting ripped out. Werewolves always mentioned how pretty my throat was, right before they threatened to rip it out.
Being a travelling musician for years before I settled down as Music Master as well as my years in the HARPS had given me a certain ability to navigate extremely dangerous situations, but I looked particularly sweet and delicate, vulnerable, which would always bring out the predators before they learned that I ripped out things even more delicate than throats. Pride, for instance.
The shadows spread towards the platform as more than wolves took interest in my performance. Our performance. Lanise was doing a stellar job with her part, even as her anxiety increased. I could feel her concern as more and more of the shadows grew in this very unsavory spot of the world. I couldn’t afford to be concerned, not when I had to focus on the oratory bit of this performance. I sang:
In the heart of darkness, city draped in night,
Assassin bomb, exploding with spite
Pain and misery, a symphony of pain,
We rise from the shadows, vengeance and bloodstain.
I took a break to play a riff that brought the shield to life around the platform. It was incredibly easy, because elven runes had already been burned into the underside of the thing. It was invisible, but it would stop a rotten tomato as well as a battle axe. Once it was in place, I felt slightly less nervous, but Lanise was still watching me with low brows, like she was considering personally decapitating me.
I sang the next verse, putting more volume and emotion into it.
Through urban maze we walk unbroken,
Warriors of music, in words that are spoken.
Darkness and light, a fusion of song,
Uniting forces, the weak will grow strong.
I played another complex piece that brought another layer of the shields alive. I’d probably need all of them plus a few extras tied to my blood before we were finished up.
I switched to a major key and sang the chorus. They’d be hearing it a lot by the time I was finished.
Singsong City, where melodies entwine,
Upper and lower, we are a force divine.
We will not fear, we will not run,
Stand in song until the battle’s won.
The next two verses and choruses were more about the upper city and lower city coming together in song to defeat the darkness of goblin assassins and other terrifying evils. It took until the third chorus for a creepy werewolf in man form to lunge at my ankle, where it was close to the edge of the platform. He would have loved to yank me off the platform and into the shadows to eat me in private, and rip out my lovely throat, but instead, he jerked back with a yip of shock, cradling his hand to his bare chest while he glared up at me like I’d seriously offended him by not being the easy prey I appeared to be.
I winked at him and continued with the next verse.
The city echoes with its resilient tune,
A symphony rising, dispelling the gloom.
Assassins and nightmares silenced, their plot undone,
In the unity of music, victory won.
I took a deep breath, and then a shock went through the barrier and the platform as a black buzzing force hit it, knocking me to my knees. Of course, I could do that and continue with my music. It was absolutely expected to get knocked over when you were in the battle ranks of the HARPS.
I kept playing and then grimly got to my feet, one leg at a time, while I sang the chorus even more loudly.
Singsong City, where melodies entwine,
Upper and lower, we are a force divine.
We will not fear, we will not run,
Stand in song until the battle’s won.
I finished that with my feet spread, glancing around, challenging whoever had cast that magic spell to do it again. Yes, waste your magic and strength on me. My harp had been charging along with the lamp, tied to all the other lamps in both under and upper city. My song was a variation of the Singsong City symphony, and it was almost ready to give me its strength, the city’s strength, drawing energy from every single person in the city, both upper and lower.
They really should have ripped out my throat before I tuned the lamp.
I took a deep breath, centering myself before I finally ran the spell with a few drops of my blood on my harp strings, cutting my palm on the hook kept for the purpose, and then the force went out from our little performance, and into the stone behind us, the ground beneath us, force that the HARPs had to use sometimes to unearth some adversary who would tunnel beneath the HOSTS and undermine their ground, or come out to attack from behind the front lines.
The magic would literally shake anything inside those tunnels up and down until they came scrambling out like rats from a sinking ship. The tension of the spell, the power I harnessed pulled at me, skin, teeth, until my hair was floating around me, held in that spell.
I sang full out, straining every part of my body and soul as I completed the spell.
“In the tapestry of night, where shadows cease,
Our city’s song, a melody of peace.
Darkness and light, hand in hand we’ll stride,
In Singsong City, where music is the guide.”
Applause came from the audience, and the others scattered to either side, allowing the slender, but tall for a goblin man to amble forward with that same loud, slow clap until he stood on the edge of the platform, face hidden behind a mask.
He crossed his arms and cocked his head. “You have won an audience with the current Goblin authority. I assume you wouldn’t park at our front door if you didn’t want to speak with someone.” He gestured at the small shack behind me, which the late Music Master had labelled as the goblin entrance.
I hesitated. He’d come too quickly, before I could really shake some fear into the goblins who resided in the tunnels behind me.
He narrowed his dark eyes at me, and they flickered green for a moment before a green shock went over and under the platform, a poisonous dissolving spell that was truly powerful. Happily, I was expecting at least that much. I smiled at him and plucked a certain order of chords and the goblins in the mountain behind me got shaken, not stirred. They’d be hitting the top of the tunnels, then the floor, then the ceiling, until they were unconscious.
The man flinched like he could hear the cries of his people getting their brains bashed around, but he’s the one who had attacked my shield. Of course, it didn’t look like anyone would attack me if he told them not to. Perfect. He was dangerous enough to keep dozens of werewolves, ghouls, zombies, and who knew what else at bay.
He crossed his arms, eyes hard, while he waited for me to stop shaking his people. The last of my harp’s strings faded from the effective chord, and I moved onto one that strengthened my shield instead. In the next few seconds, the wall above me was covered in dark bodies that clung to the rock, hundreds of vicious goblins that would fall on me and my shield with their magic. They waited on their ‘Goblin authority’ for the command to attack.
“Do you want to die?” he asked, voice dangerously melodious, and a flash of his serrated teeth reminding me of a body on the field I’d seen after it hadn’t survived a goblin.
“No, I don’t. Otherwise, I’d hardly be offended by your goblin assassin’s attempt to kill me. If it weren’t for my good friend and musical associate, Cutter, I wouldn’t be facing you today.”
He cocked his head slightly as he studied me. “You survived a goblin attack? Perhaps you should be grateful for the miraculous circumstances and…” His words trailed off as he glanced at Lanise as if he’d just recognized her as the niece of someone important. Hm. That would probably make her someone important as well. “You were the one carried from the scene by Arrook? You are his consort?”
I really didn’t like the way he was looking at me, like what could Rook the Luthier see in some scrawny musician like me? I smiled at him and plucked a set of strings. “We are working towards common goals. You could say that we share political ideals. Why shouldn’t ogres be placed in various parts of society as well as goblins?”
That was the thing about goblins. They were horrifying assassins, yes, but they were also notoriously vicious bankers, accountants, and other things that had to do with meticulous mathematics skills. He hesitated, then nodded at Lanise. “I see that you are putting your convictions into action.”
“Naturally. What else would you do with them? Goblins are so talented at ingratiating themselves into various levels of society, but then one of them throws a bomb in the middle of the city, and you wonder if they aren’t better left in the caves.”
He cocked his head. “Indeed. You are perhaps foolishly confident in the strength of your shield, considering that you’ve come to my part of town.”
“Perhaps. You could try me. Rain down your goblins and see what happens to them when they strike my shield.”
He held very still while he studied me and then raised a hand in a dismissive gesture. It took a few seconds, but the goblins clinging to the walls and ceiling dispersed. “What do you want?”
“Justice.”
“Your song mentioned vengeance.”
“Did it?” I smiled as sweetly as I possibly could, but he’d seen me in action, so he didn’t buy it.
“I am currently hunting down the assassins responsible for the attack that you were so lucky to survive,” he finally said.
“Excellent. When you’ve found them, and cut off their hands, I’ll expect you to send them to me in the mail, but in the meantime, I need renumeration for the medical bills, trauma, and general irritation I feel every time I remember the itching.”
“You came here for money?” His eyes narrowed.
“Absolutely. Ten times the rate the assassin was paid, I believe, is what the usual payment is to survivors who appeal to the ‘Goblin authority.’”
“You are well-informed.”
“Not particularly. It’s common knowledge.”
“You learned how to deal with goblin assassins as well as seducing ogres in music school?”
I smiled with my teeth bared. He was going to pay for that incredibly rude slur. Literally. “I will be waiting here for the money,” I said with a strum of my harp that played the precise order that would shoot pain through a goblin. They were quite sensitive for infernal creatures.
He didn’t wince, no, because he was a ‘Goblin Authority.’ That meant he was a master assassin as well as a master mathematician, probably spy, and whatever else Goblins kept their claws in. “That’s all you want? Filthy money?” He nodded at someone in the shadows without taking his eyes off me. He sounded so condescending, like I should be above money, but he was a goblin. They loved the clink of gold coins more than any other infernal group.
“Now that you mention it, no. You attacked me in my own city. As Music Master, I can hardly allow that without collecting a little more than a few paltry coins. I’m organizing a Jubilee, a celebration of Singsong City, Sing and Song, and I demand six groups of musicians from your people to perform twice a day each day of the Jubilee.”
He leaned away from me, like I’d finally caught him off guard. “You want goblins to perform with you after you survived an assassination attempt? Are you mad?”
I sighed heavily and played a few more chords that made the lamp flare more brightly. “Are you always this rude? I don’t care if you are, as long as you play in my Jubilee.”
His dark eyes widened. “Me?”
I smiled. “How else could I be certain the goblins stayed on their best behavior and didn’t try to assassinate someone if their ‘Goblin Authority’ wasn’t right there to keep them in line? You also have an extremely good tone. I am genuinely looking forward to hearing you sing.”
He blinked at me twice before he shook his head and turned to take a bag from the dark figure who scuttled up to him and then rapidly retreated before I could so much as get a glance at his features.
He hefted the bag and then threw it at me, directly at my face. It was my payment. Hm. If I didn’t drop the shield and try to catch it, it would fall to the street and all those hungry wolves would fight over it. Perhaps I should have thought about my exit strategy more carefully.
Before I could do anything, a hand darted out and caught the bag, a large blue-tinted hand that belonged to a bare arm and massive shoulder of the ogre who had saved my life from the stone wall. Hm. If that had been an assassination attempt, then I’d been targeted before anyone had seen me with Rook the Luthier. He had some serious explaining to do.
And if the look on the ogre’s face was any indication, when he turned his head to stare into my eyes, so did I.