Carnival Souls

Soulbound (part 1)

Lira took an involuntary step back as the two spirit armies came crashing together, as though the force of their collision had created a physical aftershock. She heard the screams, the pounding of feet, the thud of bodies hitting each other, the hisses of pain and yowls of triumph, but she saw none of it. Her eyes remained closed and her fingers kept moving across the violin's strings.

The thump of her racing pulse burned in her ears along with the ever-increasing pitch of the music that poured from her instrument. The sweat already beaded at her hairline began to trickle down her temples, sticking wisps of hair to her face and her tunic to her back. A red glow warmed her closed eyelids, but she dared not part them.

The carousel rocked as one or several spirits fell against it, and she staggered a few steps to regain her balance, a loose chain brushing her shoulder, the metal cold, but still she didn't open her eyes. She did not want to see what her music was doing; what she was doing.

Instead she tried to keep ahead of the music; one part of her mind queuing up the next notes while the other part kept her hands moving. She played with reckless abandon, letting her anger at Bebinn and her anger at herself flood the music, knowing that's what the witch wanted. The angrier Lira was, the harder Bebinn's spirits would fight.

Her thoughts flicked briefly to Genzel and Vivian, wondering if they had managed to escape the horde. The last image she had of the carnival was of Bebinn whirling towards her with venom in her voice and murder in her eyes. She had not expected them to confront Bebinn so and had nearly lost her place when they appeared from the folds of the crowd. She had only the smallest of hopes that their eleventh-hour stand would stop the bloodshed before it began, but deep down she knew Bebinn would not give up. Not that easily. And now Lira would add the carver and his youngest daughter to her conscious as well.

Shame at her own weakness, at her own ability to stand up to the witch pooled in her stomach so now every part of her was burning. If Genzel could face his own daughter, defy her openly in the face of all their shared history, why was she unable to defy her captor? Sure, at first, she had said she wouldn't be a part of Bebinn's scheme, given her some speech about how she wouldn't be a puppet anymore. But, in the end, it had just been a bunch of words, meaningless syllables that had broken against the first sign of resistance. Because here she was, playing a battle song that would turn into a dirge before all this was over. In the end, she was no better than Baleros after all.

Then you deserve to watch it happen, said a nasty voice in her head. If you won't stop it, then you should have the end burned into your memory.

Lira swallowed against her dry throat and opened her eyes. Her vision was blurred at the edges, but whether it was the exertion of playing or the sweat on her eyelashes she couldn't be sure.

As soon as she registered the scene before her, Lira wanted to close her eyes again. The ground and air were alive with a teeming mass of spirits, pairs of them reeling back and locking together in a kind of horrible dance that left pools of thick, black blood soaking into the ground.

In front of her, a spirit that was half-man, half-viper, with slitted eyes and glistening incisors, lashed out at a large panther-like beast covered in feathers. The cat screamed as the fangs buried in its shoulder, pulling out a clump of blue-black feathers as the snake-man reared back to strike again. The cat pivoted, lightning-quick, to swipe the dark spirit with a tail that ended in a row of spikes. Great sweeping gouges opened up across the man's torso, his cry cutting off as he fell back to lie bleeding in the dirt. The cat bounded away to help a small, animated tree dodging the fiery blasts from something that looked like an overgrown lizard.

Above the carousel, one of Zabaria's golden eagles was screaming as it flew towards a hideous bat-like creature. The two collided, talons flashing, wings flapping, a gold-black comet hurtling towards the ground. At the last second, the eagle wrenched itself free, the bat spiraling to earth to be lost in the throng, while the eagle circled in a wide arc, searching for another target. Its cry pierced her music briefly, folding back amongst the melody to be lost in echoes.