The Lyre Thief

by Jennifer Fallon

  The road was icy and after only a few steps she slipped, coming down hard on her knees. Scrambling to her feet, the bandit only a step behind her, she tried to run again, but this time was beaten down by a powerful gust of wind from above.

  Looking up, Rakaia forgot all about the bandit pursuing her. She gaped and turned, open mouthed, as another powerful beat of wings rent the air. The world fell silent, all the sounds of the battle stopping abruptly, as if someone had ordered it to end.

  She looked up, her eyes fixed on the sky, as the dragon let out a screech, its rider guiding it gently to the ground.

  Then she glanced at the bandit, expecting him to be staring at the dragon too, but he was staring at her, frozen mid-step in his pursuit.

  There was clearly magic at work here. The pass was eerily silent, the bandit frozen in an impossible pose. Rakaia ventured a step toward him and came up against an invisible wall between her and the bandit.

  But it was the dragon and its rider that drew her attention. She couldn’t approach any closer. The beast was huge and had landed just near Aja’s body. The dragon rider dismounted and looked around and then turned toward Rakaia.

  It was a woman. A Harshini dragon rider.

  The tall young woman had long red hair and wore the fabled dragon-rider leathers like they’d been painted on her skin. She spotted Rakaia, studied her for a moment, but made no other acknowledgment of her presence, and then turned and raised her face to the sky.

  “Death,” the Harshini woman cried. “We need to talk!”

  Chapter

  14

  DEATH WAS AN elusive creature when he didn’t want to be found.

  R’shiel té Ortyn didn’t know for certain Death didn’t want to be found, but she did know that no matter how hard to she’d tried to find him these past ten years, he was always one step ahead of her.

  She’d been sure she would find Death in Calavandra when plague decimated the island city, but as soon as she arrived, things started to improve—no doubt helped by the city elders calling on the experience of their new Hythrun allies in dealing with a similar situation—and he slipped away before she could locate him.

  R’shiel was certain she would find Death on the battlefield when the Denikans invaded the Principality of Ronstinelle, after their prince murdered his royal Denikan wife for not giving him a son. But by the time R’shiel reached the western border of Denika, King Shadow Lunar Kraig had accepted Prince Barshell’s surrender and then executed him for murder of his sister, so there was nothing left to die for.

  And so it was for a decade. Wherever the demon child went, Death departed just ahead of her. She began to worry someone might recognize her, or worse. If they knew who she was, people might start to think that somehow the arrival of the demon child meant she could drive Death away.

  Ironically, R’shiel was quite certain she was driving Death away, but not for the reason most ordinary souls might imagine.

  Death was avoiding her, because he knew she wanted something he was not prepared to grant her.

  She was just as certain she could negotiate what she wanted from him, if only she could pin him down.

  The gods were little or no help in her quest. With Medalon, Hythria, Karien, and Fardohnya at peace since she’d killed the One God, Xaphista, the God of War’s power was significantly reduced. Zegarnald had turned his attention to Denika and the Trinity Isles since then, but the southern nations didn’t have the vast populations of the northern continent, so any skirmishes he managed to instigate in the south were necessarily limited.

  She’d hoped Dacendaran might help. R’shiel even tried pitching the idea of stealing something from Death, hoping it would entice the God of Thieves to aid her, but he was no more help than Zegarnald.

  Kalianah, the Goddess of Love, was even less cooperative. Apparently, the goddess was still annoyed with R’shiel for being in love with the wrong person in the first place. Especially when she’d gone to all the trouble of putting a geas on Tarja to make him love her. Breaking the geas—while it had been unintentional and saved Tarja’s life—offended the goddess. She rarely, if ever, came when R’shiel called these days, and on the odd occasion Kalianah did deign to appear, she was anything but the adorable child goddess her worshippers imagined. She appeared to R’shiel in adult form and she was begrudging at best.

  The Goddess of Love was less than lovable, it seemed, when you had the temerity to love someone other than her choice for you.

  The hardest part of R’shiel’s quest was more than the effort involved. It was taking so long.

  Almost ten years, in fact.

  And R’shiel still hadn’t managed to pin Death down.

  She understood that what she wanted of him was against the rules. She also knew that, rules or no rules, Death had the power to grant her wish.

  She just needed the right currency.

  Which had brought her here to the Widowmaker Pass.

  With a wave of her arm, R’shiel had frozen time to stop anybody in this bloodbath dying. There were plenty of souls here waiting for Death to harvest them. He would notice if they suddenly stopped coming. She’d waited weeks for a caravan large enough to entice Death to deal with the harvest personally.

  It was R’shiel té Ortyn, the Harshini demon child, who broke the lead wagon’s axle. R’shiel who had alerted the bandits to the caravan’s presence in the pass.

  And R’shiel who had stopped time to prevent anybody dying, so she could force Death to confront her.

  So far, the plan had worked well. She felt for the victims, but not enough to prevent her doing what needed to be done. R’shiel did not know how long she would live, but it was likely to be a thousand years or more. Learning not to take on every human death she might be responsible for—either by accident or design—was something Brak had tried to warn her about.

  She was learning the lesson the hard way.

  There were more than a hundred souls here and they were all going to die—assuming she was successful—except for the one young woman—a Fardohnyan by the look of her—who must have been beyond the edge of her time bubble when she unleashed it. She would have to do something about the girl who’d seen more than anybody was supposed to and was staring at R’shiel with the stunned expression of someone witnessing more than her mind could cope with.

  It might be kinder to extend the bubble to include her. Kinder to let her die with the others once she was done doing her deal with Death.

  “You interfere with time at your peril, demon child.”

  R’shiel forgot about the young Fardohnyan woman as she turned to confront Death, who had appeared behind her. He wore a long white robe and the aspect of a tall, golden-skinned Harshini, but his eyes, instead of black-on-black pools of enchantment, were hollow orbs, and he didn’t look happy. That, more than anything else, separated him from a true Harshini. They were always happy.

  “It’s not the first time a god has interfered with time to thwart you,” R’shiel pointed out. The God of Thieves had stopped time to save her once. The deal Brak made following that day to keep her out of Death’s clutches was the reason she was here now, trying to get him out of it.

  “You are not a god.”

  “I am the demon child,” she reminded him. “I suspect that’s marginally worse.”

  Death glanced around at the bloody battle she had stopped in its tracks. There were injured and dying everywhere, frozen mid-stride, mid–sword thrust, even mid-rapine.

  A lot of souls would meet Death this day. Assuming R’shiel allowed it.

  “I know what you want.”

  “Then let us be done with this. Give him back to me.”

  Death shook his head. “Brakandaran made a bargain and he kept his side of it. You should stop trying to undo it and diminish his honor and his sacrifice by rendering it pointless.”

  “I’m sure Brak would rather have his life than his honor.”

  “If you think that, demon child, you do not know Brakandaran n
early as well as you think.”

  The argument was pointless. And she was getting annoyed. It would not help matters at all to get annoyed. “You took Brak body and soul, so you can return him to this life anytime you want.” The agony of that moment a decade ago in the Citadel’s Temple of the Gods still burned R’shiel with a pain that had barely dulled since then. Perhaps that was Kalianah’s revenge—this unbearable loss of someone she loved. “Why would you do that if you believed Brak would want to stay dead?”

  “Not all the seven hells are unpleasant places to be, demon child, and Brak’s time in this life was . . . trying. I imagine he’s enjoying the rest.”

  R’shiel shook her head in wonder. “Seriously? Are you telling me you won’t release Brak because he’s happy in hell?”

  “I have no opinion on the matter, one way or another.”

  “Then let me ask him.”

  “No.”

  “But you just said you didn’t care, one way or the other. Take me to him. Let me ask him myself. If Brak tells me he’s happy where he is, I’ll never bother you with this again.”

  “I said I had no opinion on the matter, demon child, which is quite a different thing from not caring. And why do you assume you can make deals with me?”

  “Brak made deals with you all the time.”

  “Not as often as you think.” He looked around at the carnage and then cocked his head curiously. “I wonder, demon child, if you want to join Brakandaran so badly, why you don’t take the obvious course.”

  “What obvious course?” she asked. Surely, if there were an obvious course she would have discovered it before now.

  “I could arrange for you to join Brakandaran in my realm, you know. That would solve your dilemma in one fell stroke.”

  “You’d kill me? Let me share the afterlife with Brak? I don’t believe you.”

  “You think I can’t take your life? Right here? Right now? Just by willing it to be so?”

  “Of course you can,” she said. “But you won’t. I don’t know why you let me live. Maybe you know something about the future I don’t. Maybe it’s because the gods went to so much trouble to bring me into this world that you’re not prepared to risk their combined wrath by taking me out of it. But you haven’t killed me yet, and I have a feeling you’re not going to do it now.”

  “You risk a great deal on a feeling.”

  “It’s my life to risk.”

  Death fell silent for a moment and then he shrugged. “Very well, I will give you what you want.”

  His sudden capitulation left her almost breathless. “You’ll bring back Brak?”

  “No. But I will tell you where to find him. If you can get to him. If you can locate him and get him to talk with you . . . if he expresses a genuine wish to return to this life, I will grant it.”

  If you can get to him. There was a sentence fraught with peril, if ever R’shiel had heard one. “What’s the catch?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you don’t let anybody out of hell for any reason, without making a deal of some kind. What is it? A life of equal value, like you made Brak promise when he traded his life for mine to save me?”

  “It was Brakandaran who chose his own life over that of another, demon child. Do not blame that decision on me.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  He hesitated before answering. “No. I think not. For you the decision would be too easy. Brak was far more principled than you, demon child. I suspect a decision such as that would not slow you down for a moment.”

  “What, then?”

  “The life of a friend.”

  “What?”

  “Assuming Brakandaran wishes to return to this life, you may have him back in return for the life of a friend.”

  “I don’t have any friends.”

  “I think you do, demon child. In fact, to be sure you keep your end of the bargain, I will hold their lives in trust until you have made your decision.”

  “Hold in trust . . . What does that mean?”

  Death refused to answer. “Release these people and let me do what I am here to do.”

  “You haven’t told me where Brak is.”

  “He is in Sanctuary.”

  “That’s impossible. Brak and I threw Sanctuary so far out of time, nobody will ever find it again.”

  “Then you have a problem, don’t you, demon child? Release the time bubble surrounding this place now or I will change the terms of our deal to include the lives of all your friends, rather than just one of them.”

  R’shiel glanced at the frozen carnage around them and then looked over at the young woman standing just on the other side of the bubble, staring at them with wide, uncomprehending eyes. She looked around again, sickened by what she saw. Most of the caravan guards were dead—or at least they would be as soon as she released them—as were almost all of the wagon drivers and the merchants’ families traveling with them. There were several women, and as far as she could tell most of them had already been raped and were about to be killed. One mother still clutched the limp body of a small child covered in blood where a bandit had crushed his skull with a boot rather than waste a sword thrust on the child.

  The brutality of the attack shocked her. Some years ago, Brak had spent time in these mountains as a bandit. Surely he had never been party to such wanton violence.

  A movement caught her eye and she realized the Fardohnyan girl was still watching her. She was only a step away from being raped and killed too, R’shiel guessed, if the spell were released while that bandit pursuing her was still within arms’ reach.

  “Is she on your manifest today?”

  Death shook his head. “Life and death require a certain balance, demon child. There are a number of lives I must return with, to maintain that balance.”

  “So it’s a numbers game, then, rather than a specific soul you seek?”

  “That’s one way of looking at it.”

  “Fine, then.” R’shiel walked over to the edge for the bubble, snatched a sword out of another bandit’s upraised hand and then turned the blade sideways, thrusting it with all her might between the ribs in the man’s back and up through his heart. The bandit remained standing, sword protruding from his back. Not until she released the spell would he fall and die.

  The Fardohnyan girl didn’t flinch. That could mean she was too shocked to react or, possibly, that she was not worth saving.

  She turned back to face Death. “Does that balance the books?” R’shiel wasn’t sure why it was suddenly so important to save the girl. She didn’t even know who she was. It just seemed it might compensate, somehow, for the rest of the lives here she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—save.

  “She is of no concern to me now. Do what you will.”

  “Don’t I always?”

  But Death didn’t answer. He was gone, leaving R’shiel alone amid the suspended battle.

  She looked up. Outside the bubble, the sun was almost completely set, awaiting her whim to complete the task. Long shadows darkened the pass, while outside the bubble, another early summer blizzard was gathering in the west to unleash its fury on them as soon as she permitted it.

  Still, it was done now. R’shiel turned to the dragon-meld. “Time we were gone from here, Dranymire.”

  “We have a passenger?” the dragon asked, turning his massive head to look at the Fardohnyan girl.

  “Apparently we do.”

  “And where are we taking her?”

  “Testra, I suppose,” R’shiel said with a shrug. Beyond saving the young woman from Death, she really hadn’t given her impulsive gesture much thought. “That’s the closest city to the Sanctuary Mountains.”

  “You know how I feel about passengers, your highness.”

  She smiled as the dragon lowered his head to her. She reached up and scratched the bony ridge above his eyes, knowing how much the meld enjoyed it. “It’s all right, Dranymire, I’ll keep her unconscious until we get there.”

&
nbsp; But the dragon pulled back from her touch, not willing to let her coax the meld so blatantly. “And then what? You will abandon her, penniless and alone, in a strange city in a foreign country? She might have been better off if you let Death have her.”

  “I saved her from being raped and murdered.”

  “You saved her to assuage your own conscience, your highness. There is nothing noble in that.”

  “Why does everyone assume I’m even trying to be noble?” she muttered, mostly to herself. The gods had created her to kill one of their own, and she’d done exactly as they asked. And yet everyone she’d ever met, from the demons who melded to form her dragon, to Korandellan, the long dead king of the Harshini, believed she was filled with some inherent nobility of spirit.

  She approached the Fardohnyan girl again, not sure how much the young woman had heard of the exchange, whether she had seen Death, just assumed R’shiel was talking to herself, or what she thought about what was going on.

  R’shiel didn’t have time to question her about it. She waved her arm and the girl collapsed, unconscious. Stepping through the barrier, she shivered a little at the sudden change in temperature. The wind whipped at her hair as she scooped the girl up, surprised at how light she was. Dranymire opened his wings and with one powerful beat, flew the short distance through the barrier to land beside her. He lowered his shoulder to aid her as she climbed aboard with the unconscious Fardohnyan girl, waiting until they were secure before he lifted off, much more gently than he would have done had it just been R’shiel on his back.

  As the Widowmaker fell away behind them, R’shiel released the time spell, holding on to her lifeless passenger. The dragon meld banked to the left and headed around the storm clouds, north toward the city of Testra.

  R’shiel tried not to think of the death and the scores of dying she’d left behind, just of the single life she had saved and the idea that finally, however impossible it might be to retrieve him, she knew where to look for Brak.