A Piper's Song: The Pied Piper Tales

by C. K. Johnson

  I inched forward as one of them started to sway. His feeble song came out blurred, with no kick to it. It looked like a dud firecracker that sparked for a moment and died before it blew away, useless. I even smelled smoke. I released a smooth, subtle sleep song and watched the two men sigh and collapse awkwardly on the ground.

  Even after the piper who cast the song lay unconscious, I could smell the smoke. I sniffed the air and realized the pungent odor wasn’t an illusion. Smoke billowed past me and I glanced back.

  I forgot the field for a moment as my eyes took in the licking red flames roaring behind me. It has to be an illusion; they wouldn’t actually start the field on fire, would they?

  Pipers with large red gas canisters were dousing the green grass ahead of the licking flames. As the fire jumped forward, leaving behind it a black, charred, and stinking mess, a Master Piper ran behind it, redrawing the white line. A second piper followed, singing a border song stopping all the magic on the field from spilling out into the watching audience. Bit by bit, the battlefield started to shrink.

  Shaking my head, I dragged my attention back to the enemies in front of me. People were falling left and right to the already released songs. A few stumbled in the unseen holes. My shield started to waver. I had to get my back against one of the lines so I would only have to defend my front from the other competitors. If I followed Malcolm’s orders, I had to take out one more piper before the end of this level, and then I could fall into the deep sleep my exhausted body cried out for.

  I rearranged my shield for the new strategy and searched the field. Forget honorable; who was the easiest target? I settled on someone who appeared to be half-falling over. I brought my pipe to my lips when I saw Derick ahead. The pig from the plane ride who had slapped me headed my way, his pipe at the ready.

  “You are done, little girl. I can’t believe a slut like you bested him, but anyone can win if they are willing to fight dirty,” he said, his fingers tapping against the holes in his pipe.

  “I thank you to not insult me or my Master. And I fought fair,” I growled, clutching my pipe tighter. If anyone had fought dirty, it was his apprentice, forcing another piper to attack me.

  “We shall see,” he said, whipping his pipe up and blasting me with a venomous song.

  My shield crackled as the melody hit it. The high acidic notes ate their way through, filling the air around me with the smell of skunk. Once through, the sound of hissing filled my ears as if I had fallen into a nest of writhing vipers.

  Pain shot through my arm and I took precious seconds to look for the source. I jerked backward when I saw an illusion of a dangling snake biting through my bandages.

  “Better have someone look at that. They’re rather poisonous creatures,” Derick said. A wide grin spread across his face as he watched my pain.

  “It’s just an illusion,” I barked back, upset my voice came out so shaky. It would do me no good to show this man weakness.

  “The illusion isn’t what you should be worried about. I knew who you were the moment you stepped on the plane. Your whole bloodline smacks of him. There are some of us who believe all his kinfolk should’ve been wiped out when we brought down your grandfather. Such a pity, but I’m willing to remedy the problem.”

  At least my uncle had only wanted my power. Facing him seemed easier next to this. This man wanted me dead. My gut clenched and I reached inside, fingering the darkness, wondering if it would be okay to let it loose just this once. How could I combat death, or hold it off until I could get off The Field?

  I wanted to say something witty, some rejoinder that would pause his attack, but all my thoughts had become stamped out with his promise of death. A song stirred inside me, as if it had been asleep and had woken when the word was spoken: death.

  The first notes rolled out like the opening scene of a horror movie. The sinister melody unfurled and I smiled as I leveled my gaze at Derick. The dance of the dead. It was deceivingly simple and took little song to start. Around it, I wrapped a clumsy attack song, masking my quiet notes in a low, clunky, brutish Trojan horse.

  Most of the heavy notes slammed into his shield and slid to the ground, leaving pockmarks where they hit. I only released my breath when one broke through, making a crack just wide enough for the hidden notes to steal in and start their work. I needed to hold on long enough for it to take effect. He moved so gracefully, with all the chaos happening around him, he wouldn’t notice until it was too late.

  Further down the field, Ian, Robert, and Sean watched me with amusement. It made me a little scared that they were throwing out songs left and right, and yet they still had time to casually peruse and comment on what others were doing. They might as well be sitting down for a cup of tea and discussing the weather instead of fighting in a show down on the last field. I hoped that one day I could look like that.

  Ian raised an eyebrow in question but I shook my head. I would end this one. Derick needed to know on or off the fields I couldn’t be taken down so easily.

  Derick laughed at what he thought was a failed attempt and threw another rancid song at me. It struck like a car smashing through a broken brick wall and I fell to my knees. He strode toward me, his pipe raised to deal the last blow, when my song caused the first twitch.

  He shook his leg, as if the song were a cramp that could be stretched out and continued walking until he stood above me. The sneer he wore was so wide, it revealed most of his rotting teeth.

  “It’s a shame your Master isn’t here. I don’t take kindly to people attacking the Law of any clan. I could have taken care of two problems at once.”

  My stomach clenched tighter as I willed my song to speed up even as I forced a smile on my face. My arm shook as I raised my pipe, though it was weak and held little defense if he or another piper attacked.

  He frowned as a tremor shook his hand. I flinched as he blew in his pipe, releasing a song I did not think I could combat. His song hovered, then wrapped around him, and although it stopped the shaking in his arm, his leg started to tap out a rhythm.

  More notes flew from his pipe, but this time my heart did not race at its release. The melody did nothing but bounce off his own shield and before he could issue another to fend off the rising tide, the compulsory dancing began. Had it continued he would literally dance himself to death.

  For now, it looked like he had just picked a poor spot to throw a party. I flicked my pipe up a couple of times, causing him to throw his hands in the air. I was a puppeteer, pulling on strings attached to a living marionette doll.

  Laughter rippled through the crowd. Nearby, two pipers watched the dance. I took advantage of their distraction to capture their pipes. Without the pipes, they were disqualified. With a slight bow to me, they exited the field.

  The defeated pipers stepped across the line when the note signaling the end of the second level rang out. The fire ceased, leaving the field a perfect square.

  Despite the fact my injured arm was all but numb, with Derick taken care of, I began to think this was possible; I might be able to do this. Then the ground started to roll. I didn’t know how they managed to make it feel like I had stepped onto a rickety carnival ride and yet make the ground appear deceptively flat. Several of the other contestants swayed and fell down. I couldn’t tell if the ground was flat and the illusion was movement or if the ground was moving and the illusion made it seem flat.

  Derick fell over with the first roll. I grinned as his legs twitched in the air.

  “You will pay,” Derick snarled.

  “I might, but I want you to think on something for me, Derick. Right now, I am tired. Your apprentice dealt me a good blow. And I still beat you,” I said, pausing so the words could sink in. “If you come after me again, I will be fresh, and I will be ready. I cannot promise I will be so nice next time.” I winked before playing three concise notes on my pipe. He stopped struggling and went limp.

  Someone in front of me threw a song, as sharp as any arrow, at me while I gl
oated over Derick. Even from this distance, I could feel the power behind it. Whoever had sent it had crossed a line. I put my pipe to my lips, then paused. Ian had already diverted the song back to the sender. My attacker lay dead, his legs slightly askew. His still body answered the illusion question my own eyes could not; the ground was not flat.

  I recognized the dead man. He had gone mad when the two songs clashed earlier but had never left the field. However, Ian only knocked him down—attempting to protect me—the mad man had fallen on the uneven field, causing his demise.

  Two pipers stepped in and started to drag the body off the field. I bit my lip and looked down, giving him a moment of silence—the only way I could acknowledge his passing while the competition continued around us.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw two men coming toward me, trying to take advantage of my weak moment. Rage bubbled up inside me and I shoved my pipe to my lips forcing my numb fingers to move. Have some respect for the dead.

  My song slammed against them, knocking them over and freezing them in the same block. I leaned down and shut their eyes; let them lie there and think on their folly. If someone accidently kicked them, I wouldn’t feel too guilty.

  The sky above me darkened and lightning flashed. In the sudden gloom, twenty pipers started to circle the outside of what was left of the field. Were they trying to push us to the brink, make us savages? Did we now have to protect ourselves from real lightning? Maybe I was just imagining the ring of pipers? I rubbed my eyes and tried to concentrate.

  Rain fell, drowning the field. The illusions started to swim and dissipate. Without them, I could see the deep crags in the ground. The hand that I could feel shook with exhaustion and when I started to sway, I knew I had reached the end of what I could take. I didn’t have enough left in me to take anyone out with a pipe unless I physically threw mine at them.

  The few crazed people left surrounded Ian, Sean, and Robert. Lightning struck the field and set it on fire again. The flames seemed to whip the half-crazed contenders into a fury. Their screaming howls stilled my blood. My nerves were ragged and worn-out. It felt like I had stepped into a zombie apocalypse movie. The good guys couldn’t win. There were too many to hold back.

  I waved my pipe around in tempo, as if conducting the theme music to the scene before me. As I reached the climax, I brought my pipe one last time to my lips and sent the little I had left in a song of strength to my friends. My allies wasted precious seconds to nod their thanks.

  The pipe for the end of the level sang sweet and clear and I unsteadily started for the line. I stumbled to the edge of the field, hoping I had placed high enough to keep my uncle away. I could only hope I had shown I wasn’t someone to mess with. I practically fell over the line and had to have two men drag me away from the field.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  The Boon

  THEY LEFT ME ON A ROLLED-up blanket, somewhat removed from the rest of the fields. Though canvas had been stretched around poles to form a wall and give us competitors some privacy, eyes peered through the gaping holes.

  A young boy handed me a wooden cup full of ice chips then hesitated, opened his mouth, and blushed. “Thank you,” I said, shifting so I could meet his downcast eyes. I smiled, which only made his cheeks blush redder.

  “Water,” a piper croaked from the back of the makeshift shelter.

  The boy shifted from foot to foot before mumbling, “Gut gemacht,” and then darted away.

  I fingered the fabric of my dress and sighed. Despite everything that had happened, I wanted to cry when I saw it was ruined. In the end, I looked just as ragged as I had started.

  “He said good job and I agree. You did well, Kyra,” Malcolm said. He sat down beside me and took a washcloth one of the attendants brought over. He started wiping down my face, then set to the task of cleaning my wound. It felt good to have some of my sweat washed away, but each sliver of pipe he pulled out brought the feral apprentice to mind. I looked away until he finished, trying to blunt the memory of The Fields in my mind.

  One of the apprentices from the plane brought a fresh cup of ice. My hands were so tired from gripping my pipe for hours that they cramped. Malcolm took the cup and held it as I fished out a piece of ice.

  “So we’re back to Kyra now,” I said. “What will all your friends say?” I tried to sound a little snarky, but it came out sounding as if I were dying. I felt wretched right now, like I had tried to call the deer and take down my uncle all in one day.

  “I think they would say that you are the youngest Master Piper they’ve seen in a long time,” he said, a smile playing across his lips. “I’ll leave you be and come get you when this round is finished,” he said as he slipped another ice chip into my mouth.

  “And why the shoving?” I asked, hoping he had a good reason for helping me onto the field each time.

  “I watched your face when we first arrived and you saw the piper being dragged off a Master Field. Most pipers train years for this; they know what to expect. I thought it best to not let you psych yourself out. If I did not think you could do it, I wouldn’t have brought you.”

  “And you thought I needed it every single time?” I said, wishing I had the strength to throw the ice at him.

  He laughed when he saw me glancing at the cup and put his hands up as if surrendering. “I’ll admit it might not have been necessary every time, but it was amusing,” he added as he disappeared.

  I closed my eyes, hoping to get a little sleep during the lull but did not have them closed long when I felt someone at my side.

  “Back already?” I smiled and opened one eye. The amusement drained off my face along with the color.

  Derick’s apprentice stood above me, pipe in one hand, the other clenched at his side. “I shouldn’t be here, and I’ll deny I was if anyone asks. I just wanted to warn you he’s really mad. He was disgraced by a half-blooded apprentice and he wants to make you pay.”

  He paused as a young boy ran by, and then leaned closer. “Your uncle may hunt you openly, but Derick will go after you in secret. First, he will hunt down Malcolm, to make you suffer. Then anyone else you love.”

  “Is he the one who sent me the broken pipe?” I asked hoping to put a face to my unknown attacker. If it was what the apprentice said this would be Derick’s style.

  “No,” he said before stepping back as two caretakers approached. He pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket and threw it to the ground. “Be warned. If I ever see you again, you will fall,” he shouted. His voice thundered through the tent, causing all to stir and look our way.

  “That’s enough of that, boy. Leave now, before we tell your Master you’re disturbing the peace,” said one of the caretakers, raising his thick hand as if he meant to backhand the apprentice. The apprentice ducked and hurried out, casting a quick glance back. I nodded and looked away lest anyone see through his ruse. I did not know the consequence for betraying your Master, but I had no doubt it would be horrible.

  Malcolm arrived shortly after that. “Ready to go?” he asked, holding out his hand. I groaned and stretched, if possible feeling worse than when I laid down. When I didn’t take his proffered help, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me to my feet.

  Malcolm escorted me toward the raised stand. The Field had been cleared and looked almost serene. I shook my head at how different it felt without the songs layering its reality. Even that simple movement made me sway and Malcolm stopped while I steadied myself again.

  At the white line, he stopped. “Only the contestants go on from here.”

  “What, no push,” I joked as I stepped over the line. It took me much longer than it should have to go barely a few feet, and then I had to wait for the rest of the contestants to join me.

  We filed into two long rows as the judges took their places at a long wooden table that looked out of place—hoisted on a platform—in the middle of rolling green fields. The dark tone and thick legs reminded me of something that would belong in a castle rather than her
e.

  When all were seated, I noted one of the high-backed chairs remained empty. Someone had moved the flags that surrounded the fields behind the judges and the banners flapped in a breeze I desperately wanted to feel.

  It was disappointing my weathered friend was not up there. I guess the judges who presided over the apprentice round were less important than these men were.

  The judge seated in the center stood and clapped. The crowd hushed. I was close enough to hear him clear his throat and hum a three-note tune before he spoke. “First order of business: The winner of The Fields this year is Ian McClaine. Please step forward and present your request to be considered.” His voice rumbled across the crowd, amplified by the song he cast so all could hear.

  Ian stepped forward and handed his pipe up to the judge. A piece of twine kept the small piece of paper wrapped around it from falling off.

  “Second place to Robert Barton. Please step forward and present your request to be considered,” the judge said. Robert glanced at me before handing his pipe up to the judge.

  I leaned forward to get a better look at him, but he was already back in line. His black hair covered enough of his face that I couldn’t make out his expression.

  “Third place to Sean O’Conner.” He stepped forward and winked at me before presenting his pipe.

  I laughed and then blushed as a couple of the judges glanced at me. At least it effectively stopped me from making the silly comment about him looking like a young Sean Connery with red hair.

  The judge who accepted the pipes slipped the small piece of paper off each and read it before handing it around to the rest of the men at the table. After the last judge viewed it, the announcer stood again. “We must take a moment to confer. The requests are a bit unusual.”

  The judges descended the stairs and shuffled behind the stand and, despite the silence of the crowd, not a word of their discussion could be heard.