Coming in 2012, a young adult fantasy novel...
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ECHO'S LYRIC Known only as Echo Lyric for her extraordinary magic, a young slave lives in misery. Her one true joy is music. But when powerful visitors hear her play, the cruel wizard who has raised her must destroy her before the secret of her birth is revealed. Left for dead, with only her ferret-companion, Fidget, Echo falls in with a traveling band of gypsies. She embarks on a journey to find a new life, but soon discovers that fate has plans for her. Some would place a crown upon her head; others a dagger in her heart. The forces of angels, princes, elves, and others would guide her, but the song is hers to sing. She will dine with kings. She will answer the magic in her soul. She will play the wild music for her very life... |
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Read the PROLOGUE
A great gust of heat blew back the flames and bowed the lines of Azrael's feathers. He felt the arching in his wings as the force of the air scooped them outward from his body. The young boys were screaming. He could hear their voices over the roaring of the fire, could see the eldest, who was on the threshold of manhood, standing in front of his siblings, his lanky frame erect and bold in defiance as he faced the wizard. The lad stood no higher than the man's shoulders but he would be tall in a few years. One of the smaller boys reached a hand out toward the fire and winced in pain as the searing heat drove him back. Azrael frowned. The eldest, the proud one, flung his arm out, making a futile sweep with his small, ornamental sword. His arm wrenched as the wizard batted it away, laughing.
“Let's be done here.” Michael raised his sword.
“No.”
“What do you mean, 'no?'” Michael's chest, encased in deep red and gold armor, puffed with anger. His wings quivered.
“No,” said Azrael once more, his voice no more than a whisper. The dark angel, his black eyes reflecting the fire in flickering crimson and amber, stared down at the tiny creature that lay bundled in linen at his feet. Two uncannily dark eyes, very like his own, stared back. He knew that she should be howling with terror or confusion. She was still. Her gaze remained locked on Azrael's.
Azrael raised his eyes, and looked across the wall of fire once more. The wizard was closing in on the boy. He knew the plan. He had written the names in The Book with his own hand, and knew full well when they were to be erased. Still, something was moving in him. His hand would not close on the hilt of the sword. He had reaped the souls of the parents without a moment's hesitation, but something, somehow, was staying his hand.
“No. Not this child. It is not the will of God.”
Michael's eyes blazed.
“Azrael , you are not the one to make such decisions. You do not know the heart of the Maker. Stop this now before you bring Raguel and Sariel down on yourself!” Michael gestured to the pale figure in the shadows behind the wizard. “Have you forgotten the consequences of such actions, Azrael? Have you been lingering so long in the wake of his deeds that you have become one of his?”
Azrael's gaze followed Michael's gesture and held as another dazzling angel emerged from the shadows. His tunic, shirt, and breeches were brilliant in their whiteness. Eyes so crystalline they seemed to reflect in shimmering silver-grey the light of the raging fire, an icy mirror. His hair, fair as moonlight, fell in soft waves to his shoulders. Wings so pale they glowed were folded neatly against the back of the Morning Star, most beautiful of all angels. His beauty had not been marred by his fall.
“ Lucifer.” Azrael spoke the name with no condemnation or fear.
“Hello Azri. Hello Michael.” Lucifer looked at his hands, his head bowed to hide a smile. “You really should learn to control your temper, Miky.”
Michael's nostrils flared and his wings bristled with outrage. “You should learn to control your tongue.”
Lucifer grinned openly then, chuckling. He crossed to them, slipping between the flames, passing through them as though they weren't there. Sidling up to Michael, he flicked an invisible speck of dirt from the shoulder of the angel's red and gold tunic.
“Oh, I miss you brother. You always leave the field before the battles are ended. If I didn't know better I'd think you were afraid to see me. I see Gabe and Raphe; I always see Azri. I never see you anymore. You don't even write.”
“Don't touch me, you abomination!”
Lucifer's pale brows rose in feigned shock. He drew back in a dramatic pose and turned his gaze to Azrael.
“Will you hark at the boy?” He sighed and tsked. “My, my wouldn't Daddums be disappointed in you, Miky. Now really, is that any way to treat family?”
Michael snarled and stepped back from Lucifer.
“You know what he is. You know your duty. My work here is done. Remember whose servant you are, Azrael” With a last disgusted glance at the other angel, Michael was gone in a flurry of golden wings.
Lucifer hooked an arm over Azrael's shoulder. Black as night and white as snow, they looked down at the baby.
“She is a cute little thing, isn't she? Does it wear you down, Azri? You know, if you simply decided to join the ranks of the free you could decide for yourself who lived and who died. You could spare the wee ones and take the murdering drunks who rape and rob and terrorize the innocent.”
“And how, Luc, would that serve you?” Azrael's black, bottomless eyes gazed directly into Lucifer's crystalline, steel ones. “What price would you exact for my freedom of choice I am not so much a fool.”
Lucifer's face went cold and his eyes narrowed. “Aren't you? Are you so very clever? If not one of mine you'd have made an excellent Watcher. Think what handsome, clever children you might have had.”
“I was never so inclined.”
A flurry of sound and wind interrupted their exchange and an angel in pale blue and aquamarine strolled between them, her face lit with a soft smile. Chestnut hair spilled down her back in a riot of curls and her skin was smooth over perfect cheekbones. She bowed her head, gazing at the child.
“Oh, but isn't she lovely!” she said.
“Remiel, what says the Father?”
“You called her? Oh please, Azri, must you?” Lucifer sneered and folded his arms across his chest.
Azrael ignored Lucifer, turning to Remiel. His face was passive, but his eyes were searching.
“It feels wrong, Remi. I am His servant-- but it feels wrong and I wanted to be sure.”
Remiel drew a breath, and her violet blue eyes glimmered as she spoke. “The disruption in the balance is done. Your hesitation has wrought this. The Father will allow for the change, but the balance must be restored. He reads no pride or ill purpose in your heart, Azrael.”
“Oh, I like that!” fumed Lucifer. “That's just perfect! The dark prince questions and his heart reads pure. Give Azri a mild scold delivered by a powderpuff-- but where was the Angel of Mercy for me? This is what you choose to serve? You are both fools!”
Remiel's eyes went soft and liquid as she regarded the fair angel. “Lucifer, please...”
“Shut your mouth Remi! What would you know? How dare you pity me?” His chest heaved and his sliver eyes deepened to the color of iron. He spun on Azrael. “You heard what she said. The balance must be restored. A life for a life. My servant,” he gestured to the wizard who stood poised, hovering above the boy, “was due to claim this one. I get another in return. You owe me, Azrael.”
Azrael glanced at Remiel. She nodded, her eyes filled with sadness.
“All right, Luc. Name your price.”
Lucifer stood still, his cunning gaze leveled on the dark and quiet Angel of Death. He seemed to measure him. And then he smiled.
“No. Not yet. I will keep this little debt in my pocket.” He reached a slender hand out and plucked a short, black feather with a swift tug. Azrael flinched. Lucifer rolled the quill in his fingers, and the firelight picked out colors in the black sheen of its surface. “I will keep this as my marker.”
He turned to leave and paused as Remiel called his name.
“What is it?”
She looked from Lucifer to Azrael and back, then gazed down at the child.
“Neither of you will intervene in this child's life again. The Father has respected whatever disturbance in the plan Azrael felt, has found his heart pure in its purpose, and grants that Lucifer may exact some equal portion for his loss. But neither of you will use this child as a pawn in a contest,” she said. Her voice deepened with scorn. “There has been enough of that.”
Lucifer sighed. “If you mean Desua, that silly boy-prophet they nailed to the tree, I had no hand in his death. You know I don't kill. I offer choices. My purpose has never changed, I merely fulfill it in a different place. Your scorn, dear Remi, is misplaced. Look at your darling Azrael and ask him why he never felt any strange disturbance in the plan on that day, sister. He did not hesitate to use his sword then.”
In a burst of light and warm wind he was gone.
“Things are not always as they seem, Luc,” Azrael said.
He looked into Remiel's face and smiled knowingly. She stroked his shoulder where Lucifer had torn loose his marker and another small feather fell into her hand. Remiel ran a hand through his dark hair, pulling one long strand free. Wrapping the hair around the end of the feather, she sang a little song and blew softly on the bundle in her hands. Azrael watched, his dark eyes fixed on her cupped palms. The air shimmered, the hair and feather glimmered, shrank, and turned to silver. Remiel knelt and draped the shining charm around the baby's neck, tucking it inside her swaddling clothes. The infant gave a soft coo, echoing the song.
Across the wall of flame the wizard looked up suddenly. He had a young face made harsh by bitterness and anger. As he turned his head toward the sound, the small boy took his chance and lashed out with his small jeweled sword, slashing the man's leg at the knee. Screaming in rage, the wizard clutched at the gushing wound. With a snarl and a gesture he drew another line of fire between himself and the seven lads.
Turning once more toward the other side of the chamber he saw something small on its stone floor. Guards had breached the outer chamber door and were breaking the inner door down. He passed through the wall of flame, knelt, and looked into the small bassinet. As the door frame shattered, he made one, final gesture, sending the flames into a sudden raging wall as he picked up the tiny child and limped to the window.
Azrael and Remiel watched as the wizard took the child and vanished into the moonlight. She had begun to make soft sounds, imitating the song she had heard repeatedly. Azrael frowned.
“Perhaps I was wrong. What purpose could sparing her have served if even the Angel of Mercy is powerless to save her from the likes of that?”
Remiel smiled. She smoothed the hair from her brother's brow and touched his cheek lightly.
“Things are not always as they seem, Azri.”
©Chrissy Olinger Coming in 2012!