Page 29 of Ogres Don't Play

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 ratsfrom 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 dangerousenough to keep dozens of werewolves, ghouls, zombies, and who knew what else at bay.

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