But what if it’s from Malcolm? The thought popped into my head.
“If I don’t open it, it would be rude,” I said, slipping off the box top before I could convince myself how stupid an idea this was.
Inside lay a plain wooden pipe, snapped in half. I dropped the box and jumped back, reacting as strongly as if it had been a dead rat. My power took advantage of the distraction.
A song slipped out, shimmering like droplets of venom dripping from a rattlesnake’s fangs, and attacked the threat. The box began to crumple within seconds while the broken pipe blackened. The smell of burning wood broke through my shock and I shoved the pipe to my lips. I heard wood splinting behind me but did not let it distract me.
The song wriggled away from me, resisting my call back. The carpet below the box started to curl and brown. I’m failing, it’s not working, my mind screamed even as I shoved what little power I had left. Each attempt only seemed to add fuel to the fire.
“Stop Kyra,” Malcolm snapped. He released a song so light, it looked like it wouldn’t make its target, a replay of me trying to turn off the light with the pillow. A sob escaped me when the song hit and the magic burning stopped.
“I,” I started but didn’t say any more. I didn’t even know where to start. Malcolm shook his head, grabbed the pillow off the floor and ripped the pillowcase off. He eased the box in and carried it back to his room through the broken door.
“What was that?” I whispered when he returned. My gaze kept drifting back to the burnt spot.
“Do you really want to know the answer? You have enough to worry about tomorrow as it is,” he said as he ran his hand through his hair.
He looked ruffled. Even when my uncle had thrown insult after insult, he hadn’t looked phased. I didn’t want to know. I went to tell him, meant to tell him so. “Yes.” My voice came out surprisingly confident. In reality I wanted to crawl under the covers and pretend I hadn’t just seen my mentor worried.
“Could we leave it at someone is not pleased with you?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“My uncle?” I asked, making myself meet his gaze and hold it.
“It could be, but is probably not. Just let me do all the door opening here in the future. You worry about the fields, and I’ll worry about everything else.”
“What does it mean?” I asked. I wished I could forget it. But I couldn’t. The delivery hadn’t happened until Malcolm had gone to bed. That meant whoever it was had been watching me, waiting for me to be alone.
“Wrong question. You can already guess what it means. The question should be why? And I can only tell you what I’ve said before, your power is enviable, and for some scary. The Fields are important. The status you gain from them invaluable. If you, a half-piper, are placing so well, you’re shaking up the order of things. You are awakening old demons your own ancestor sowed.”
I raised my eyebrow.
“The only thing to do is finish. Get some sleep if you can,” he said. He patted my shoulder then left the room. The adjoining door remained crookedly opened an inch. I took comfort in that inch and crawled back into bed. This time I was grateful as the blackness rolled over me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The Field of Contention
MALCOLM SHOOK ME AWAKE AT DAWN then left. I tossed on my clothes and went into his room. I cringed as someone knocked on the door.
“I figured after last night it might be best if we get our own car service,” he said heading for the door without hesitation. I could almost tell myself I hadn’t seen his worry last night. He was back to my mentor, the piper who could handle anything.
He nodded before opening the door a crack.
“I did my best with the measurements. I had to guess from when I saw her yesterday; either way, it has to be better than the atrocity she came out in. Of course, it wouldn’t have occurred to a man that a young woman like this needs to have a gown for her ball,” said a little old lady as she pushed Malcolm out of the way and toddled in. I shivered as I met her eyes and saw they were as white as her hair. “Now, now, no need to fear. Grannie fixed something up for you,” she said as she limped over and held out a package wrapped in a paper bag and held together with a piece of twine. I couldn’t imagine how she could fix anything with her gnarled fingers.
I looked to Malcolm, hesitant to take it.
“Hurry,” Malcolm barked as he shut the door. “I want to check out the other fields to see if they’ll give away what they are planning for the last one.”
“She will be ready when she is ready,” she snapped right back at Malcolm, then waved in the direction of the bathroom. I shook my head as I took the package with me and slipped the dress on. I turned around in front of the mirror, awestruck. This lady, whoever she was, was magic. Everything fit just right, pulled me in the right places, whooshed out where it should, and cascaded just an inch from the ground. I would have to lift up the bottom a bit to keep the hem from getting soiled.
It was like she said, “The kind of dress you wore to a ball.” It didn’t seem practical for this type of contest, which made me love it even more. Now, this was my kind of dress-up, or in this case, dressing for the part. It was dark blue velvet, the bottom half being a darker shade of blue than the top, all tied together with silver stitching. Despite Malcolm clearing his throat several times, I couldn’t stop running my fingers across it.
A grey length of fabric remained in the package the dress had come in. I picked it up, and it billowed out into a half-cloak with a hood. The inside was lined with grey silk that complimented the outside. As the cloak unrolled, two little silk shoes fell out. They again emphasized how impractical this outfit was, but I slipped them on all the same.
The deep blue dress highlighted my dark hair and seemed to enhance my brown eyes. I glanced in the mirror, startled to see I looked almost beautiful. The image before me imbued me with confidence. I was ready to play with the big boys.
Grannie sat me down on the bed while she braided and twisted my hair this way and that, looping ribbons throughout it. It looked complicated and fragile, yet I was witness to her pulling my dark hair so tight that I was certain, despite its waves, it wasn’t going anywhere.
“There now. You look as pretty as a spring song. We must have you properly represented; you are the first woman to win two fields since his poor lassie, and if you could win the third, well, I’d be honored to have you follow in my footsteps,” she added as she patted my arm and started for the door.
“You were the last woman to win three fields?” I asked, startled. You are so old! I hoped after this was all over with, I’d have a chance to speak to her again.
“I was, and in that very dress. It will bring you luck; it did me. Now, you had better hurry for I’m guessing this old sport wants to see the last field while you are in your first. I’m sorry to say I won’t be able to make it down to see you again, but I’ve sent my son to watch, and he’ll tell me all about it,” she said as she flashed me a smile and closed the door behind her.
The clothes helped steel my nerves and for a moment my fear born last night disappeared, then my gaze fell back on the burn spot in the carpet. Malcolm returned and we headed for the car. I hoped to see her again to say thank you. Thank you for a few seconds she gave me where I saw myself and believed I was just like any other piper.
I held the image of what I looked like close to me. I could pretend I was that person I saw in the mirror. That person looked confident. She could deal with getting kicked out of the house, a crazy uncle out for revenge, and even a threat in the night. I had been bluffing so far, why not another day.
Malcolm guided me to the field and left me there, striding off in a hurry. I glanced over at the last field, but a mass of bodies, many layers deep, surrounded it. I shrugged and went back to looking at my field. The apprentices around me fidgeted while we waited for the match to begin. Did one of them send the threat? One of their Masters?
A little blonde girl with bluebell-colored
eyes ran up to me and tugged on my hand. I scanned the area until my eyes rested on a couple, who I thought were her parents. They waved and pointed to the field. Pipers were already starting to cross it.
The starting sound had not blown, so I crouched down to her level. “Hello there. What is your name?”
“Maybelle,” she said through a giggle.
“Oh, what a beautiful name, Maybelle. Did your parents explain what is going to happen?” I asked her. The crowd stirred and my eyes lifted to where one of the judges stood. He had begun lifting his pipe.
“Yes, I am going to play a game of make believe with you. And even if I see something scary, I should know it’s not real,” she said, so solemn for one so young.
“So Maybelle, if you had a favorite stuffed animal, what would it be?” I asked as I stood and stepped across the line, feeling the chaos start to pound into me yet waiting to pull her through.
“My stuffed bear, Pickles,” she said as she giggled.
“How about I show you a magic trick? Does that sound fun?” I asked right before I put my own pipe to my lips. “Close your eyes tight and cover your ears,” I said as I pulled her over. I started piping the instant her foot hit the other side of the line. I was trying something new, thanks to Malcolm’s brief late-night descriptions of how to pipe an illusion. I’d only bother with one item to begin with. “Now, why don’t you open your eyes and see how you like my trick?” I asked as I pulled her hands away from her ears. Amidst the chaos of the field, a few apprentices already staggered around in rage. Maybelle shouted with glee, hopping up and down.
“Teddy bears! Big teddy bears everywhere!” she screamed as her eyes widened in glee. She went running after one of the apprentices who had not only lost their child already but was approaching us in a threatening manner. I could see the little boy the apprentice had abandoned screaming at the top of his lungs a few feet away, and I cringed. So this is how it was going to be.
I pulled out my flute and walloped my attacker with a sleep song so hard that he fell over backward. Stupid little man, losing his child. I marched over to the little boy and yanked him into my illusion. With the added person, my song started to waver under the strain. The boy paused his raw scream to draw a jagged breath and pursed his lips as he took in his new reality. His bottom lip quivered.
Thanks to me, he entered a land of fluffy white teddy bears that roamed free in a wide meadow. I lifted my pipe and pushed another thin layer on the children’s illusion, trading it for a piece of the song I had been using to block the onslaught of the ten Master Pipers’ songs.
My calm wavered as the thick pounding song broke through my shields and ramped up my frustration as surely as if I had been stuck in rush hour traffic in a broken-down car trying to get to the hospital. I gritted my teeth and focused on the pipers around me who had lost their children, ready to release this rising tension on a deserving target. Those apprentices would be first. Not the soundest of strategies, but it would have to do. My power slithered up, rallying at the promise of the attack.
As we walked in the direction of the worst cluster of lost ones, my own shield shuddered and all but collapsed. I could understand why the apprentices in this area had given into the songs and illusions so fast. The Master Pipers here were by far the best on the field. I pushed more of my power into the song for the children, allowing the lost ones to step straight into it. My own vision started to waver as illusions of cannons started to flicker before me, followed by the smell of burning and rot. I fought down the urge to gag and clenched my hand so hard, I had crescents cut into my palm.
A piper pierced the air with a deep-throated howl before he leapt at his own children like a wolf going in for the kill. My pipe was at my lips before I could fully think it through and I played a harsh, turbulent song that spoke of raging storms touching down and uprooting rickety houses in the dead of night. It smacked into the apprentice so hard, his nose bled dark red, contrasting against his unnaturally pale skin. He skidded backward and fell across the crisp white line. Spectators caught him. Even as they dragged him away, he continued to shake his head as if he were trying to throw off the illusions that still clung to him.
Maybelle waved over his lost child. “That’s George and Mary and Susie and Jane,” she rattled off catching the poor boy up on the list of teddy bears names before he could react. “You can name that one. I like the name Millie. Do you like that name?” A sweet smile spread across her face as she leaned in before he could answer, “I thought you would like it too. Good job, her name is Millie.”
I glanced over at ‘Millie.’ A wry grin settled on my face. Millie had a scraggly grey beard and sweat streaked his baldhead. Soon enough, the boys were going to be roped into a tea party.
I continued to slosh through the thick illusions. The music circled my shield as a predator might his prey, occasionally bumping up against it to test my wavering strength. I pushed more into the children’s illusion, praying it would be enough to keep up a world of teddy bear naming.
The emotion of terror clawed through my shield first, leaving a small crack for fear to slink in and rub my tired, fraying nerves raw. I bared my teeth and dug down further, pulling up bits of power I didn’t know I had lingering there. Dark bits that were never meant to see the light of day. I shuddered for a moment, feeling the power lingering in my throat, giddy to be released and wash devastation across the field.
I lifted the pipe to my lips, took a deep breath and smiled. If I freed this, even my uncle would hesitate coming after me. It seemed to sense my wavering resolve and pushed forward, almost overcoming my tiring defenses from within.
My stomach turned and I dropped my pipe to my side. Tears formed in my eyes. What had I almost released, and for the cost of a game? Though the wavy promise of death floated around me, it was only an illusion, created by great pipers to take me to the brink. I had gone there, stepped on the line, and did not like what I saw.
My power hissed as I shoved the bit back down, promising this part would never be released from its prison again. Then the rippling burning sensation rolled over me, dropping me to my knees.
I screamed and went to roll on the grass, my eyes darting around the outside of the field, searching for water. My gaze came to rest on the children behind me. Maybelle’s eyes had widened, and she clutched one of the boy’s hands tightly, but she did not step away. I forced a tight smile on my face despite the pain, though from the expressions on their faces, it did little to help.
“Sorry,” I croaked, staggering to my feet. A few nodded, but all still stared at me warily. A fresh wave of sensation washed over me, splotches of red filling my vision. Had I not been looking at the children, my howl would have rivaled the apprentice I had thrown out earlier.
When the red faded, I snarled and scanned the field again. The remains of the song I had pulled up before started to creep back up, no longer hindered by my direct attention. There, hiding behind another piper, stood Derick’s apprentice. He grinned.
His pipe was already at his lips. I struggled to lift my arm, for any movement heightened the prickly burning sensation. His chest rose and fell, and all my muscles clenched, bracing for a new wave of whatever he had thrown at me. Nothing happened. I turned back, confirming it hadn’t hit the children. Behind me, Maybelle kept the kids in line. For once, she wasn’t pushing the edge of my song to check out the teddy bears. Some of the children had even sat down and were plucking strands of grass.
Out of the corner of my eye, another apprentice rushed at me, pipe raised as if he meant to skewer me with it. I shoved through the pain and jammed my pipe to my lips, forcing out a song as his pipe smashed against my arm. The song hit him straight on. All the color dropped from his face before he staggered backwards and dropped limply to the ground like a kite with its strings cut.
“Is he dead?” one of the children asked, his question mirroring my own thoughts.
I shuddered, unsure myself. I hadn’t paid attention to what song I had th
rown out—no grand illusion, no pointed attack, just a bit of who-knows-what to stop his unthinking charge.
The sight of his chest rising as he took in a shallow breath almost made me break out in a cheer.
“Your arm’s bleeding,” Maybelle whispered.
I looked down to see blood streaming down my arm. The lingering burning sensation masked the pain. One of the boys pulled a handkerchief out of the fallen piper’s pocket and handed it to me. I clenched my jaw and started to wrap it around my forearm. I took a sharp intake of breath as I accidently embedded the bits of wood from the broken pipe still stuck in my flesh. It would have to wait until after.
With a growl, I brought my pipe up again and shoved a song worthy of a Master Piper at Derick’s apprentice. For the first time, my pipe seemed almost too small to funnel the song. The notes, once released from their confined space, shot out as if I had filled my pipe with hundreds of tiny, barbed darts. They pierced his shield simultaneously. The illusions from not only the judges but those being thrown around by attacking pipers whooshed in. His clothes whipped around him as the songs filled the void where the defense had once been. His eyes met mine as he took a step, and then he fell.
I glanced to the still-unconscious boy beside me and could almost feel his power swirling around inside of him. I was so tired. A sudden itch to take his energy loomed in my mind. I could give it back—later.
Why not just take it? my power whispered, as if my unleashing so much of it granted awareness. Malcolm’s wife had been consumed, and it had killed her. Even then, Master Pipers who knew what they were doing had performed the act. Not me. I made myself turn away and glanced around for Maybelle.
“Come. Now,” I snapped, pointing at my cloak. “Maybelle, if you don’t stop wandering off, I’ll turn the teddy bears off.” She looked up at me through her long lashes and smiled. “I’m not joking,” I added as if we both didn’t know I would never do it.
A Piper's Song: The Pied Piper Tales Page 19
