by Matthew Cody
Leetha looked at one of the elves standing guard over the Piper. “Do it.”
As the elf drew back his blade, Carter hurled the entire bag of spark powder into the trees over the elves’ heads. At once, the branches exploded in flame. Every piece of wood the powder touched went up in a magical fire. The initial flare was so bright that it blinded the elves, ruining their night vision. And they tripped over each other as they ducked out of the way of the falling burning leaves. It was into that sudden inferno that Carter ran. He shoved Leetha out of the way and safely away from the flames, and then he grabbed the Piper by his cloak. He hauled the Piper to his feet, but was surprised to see that he could stand without any help. His wound must not have been as bad as it looked.
Together they dodged the fire and made for the safety of the darkness. As they ran, Carter heard Leetha calling his name.
“Carter, wait!”
But he didn’t stop for her. He pulled the Piper after him, and together they fled into the night.
They ran until the fire’s glow became a distant spark of light. The Piper played a small tune to hide their tracks, but as he did so the notes sounded flat and hollow. Carter saw that the little flute was cracked and warped, its magic nearly spent from the battle. But it was enough to aid in their escape, and they ran until they were finally clear of the trees. Clear of the Deep Forest. Clear of Leetha and the elves. Clear of any paths but the one Carter had chosen.
Max had never been to a funeral before. It felt sort of like a going-away party. There was food and drink and even laughter as people took turns telling funny stories about Paul’s antics. Lukas’s story about the fart cushion Paul had slipped under Emilie’s chair got a really good laugh. But there were a lot of tears, too, and when Emilie got up to speak, she broke down before she could get any words out, and Max had to help her back to her seat, and she kept her arm around her for the rest of the service.
They buried Paul in the town square beneath the Summer Tree. His name was carved into the tree bark and the letters filled in with smelted iron so that they would never fade.
But New Hamelin couldn’t afford to grieve for long. The gate had to be rebuilt, and a decision had to be made about what to do with the hundreds of Bordertowners that had suddenly appeared, wide-eyed and bewildered in their new magical home.
Lukas put the trollsons to work felling trees from the Shimmering Forest, and plans were drafted to expand New Hamelin’s walls. The village would have to double in size to accommodate the newcomers, but anyone who wanted to join the village would be allowed to do so, human or not.
Between the business of the refugees and Paul’s funeral, it was nearly two days before Lukas and Max had a chance to properly talk alone. They shared a small breakfast of cheese and sliced apples on the gate wall one morning, wrapped in blankets to ward off the cold. The sun shone weakly in the sky, and snow flurries drifted along the morning wind. It had been two full days since the battle, and spring had yet to arrive. The days stayed cloudy and dim, and the nights were true nights. A change had come over the Summer Isle. A real winter had come at last.
“Maybe it’ll last for just a few months, like a normal winter does,” said Max. She stomped her feet to warm up her toes. “I’ll need warmer socks, though.”
“I wish it would at least snow,” said Lukas. “It would be nice for the little ones to get to play in snow in the daytime. I can’t remember the last time I threw a snowball at someone.”
“I’d kick your butt in a snowball fight.”
“I won’t argue with you.”
Max gave Lukas a Well, that’s settled nod and smiled. The wind picked up, and she had to clutch her blanket tighter to keep it from blowing away. “Do you really think the cold will never end?”
“I don’t know,” said Lukas. “Something’s broken on the Summer Isle. We saw it out there on the Peddler’s Road; you can feel it in the air. It’s like when the Peddler died, all the good parts of this place got weaker.”
“Do you think there’s a way to fix it?”
“I hope so,” said Lukas. “But I’m no magician. I wouldn’t even know where to start. We’ll just have to learn to live with the cold for a while longer at least.”
He handed her a slice of apple, and Max ate it without enthusiasm. It tasted bland and watery. A winter apple.
“So, it’s final?” asked Max. “You’re all staying?”
“It’s not normally how we do things, but last night we put it to a vote. We’ll set Watch boys to guard the door you discovered, keep anything nasty from using it, but the New Hameliners won’t be leaving the Summer Isle until all the children can leave together, and that means rescuing those who are being held as slaves by the rat king. And that means finding Carter, too.”
Max nodded. She’d expected as much. The Black Door may not have been a door back to the thirteenth century, but it was a door away from this place, and they’d just begun to explore its secrets. But the children of Hamelin had waited almost eight hundred years to escape the Summer Isle; they were prepared to wait a little longer.
“So, when are you leaving?” asked Lukas.
“Tomorrow,” said Max. “Emilie’s packing me a bag. She says it’s good to get her mind off Paul. Wants to stay busy.”
“Going to be a dangerous journey to the Deep Forest. Even if you stick to the road.”
“I’m getting used to it by now.”
Lukas frowned. “I’m sorry we let your brother go on without us. I really did think he’d be safer with Leetha and the elves.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Max. “If I know Carter, he’s probably running through the Princess’s halls playing knights and castles, and stuffing his face full of…whatever elves eat. Besides, I need to talk to the Princess. They say she’s got magic, and I need a little magic right now. I need her to break my parents’ curse.”
Max absently patted her backpack. She’d wrapped her parents’ jars in an extra layer of wool to keep them warm. It was probably a silly gesture, but it made her feel better. “Maybe she can explain what this winter is all about, too,” she said.
“Maybe. I guess we’ll find out when we ask her.”
“Lukas, no…” Max looked at the boy. She’d known this was coming.
“I’m going with you.”
“You can’t,” said Max. “You’ve got your hands full here with your own people and now, like, a hundred refugees making camp outside your walls. What if the rats decide to attack again? And what about your friends that are being held by the rat king?”
Lukas shook his head. “Emilie is a better leader of New Hamelin than I could ever be. And I really don’t think the rats will try anything for a while. Not while Geldorf and the trollsons are around. Plus, we need to prepare before we try and rescue the missing New Hameliners. After the defeat here, the rat king will be on guard. The trollsons have agreed to help, but first we need to rebuild our defenses. Finn and Emilie can handle that. I made a promise to you, and I aim to keep it.”
“But you don’t have to do this.”
“I know.” Lukas pulled the Sword of the Eldest Boy out of its scabbard and held the ugly blade up, pointed to the sky. “I was going to give this back to Finn, but I think I’ll hold on to it for a while longer. The journey won’t be dangerous just because of rats and ogres, Max. Grannie Yaga came here looking for Carter. I don’t know why, but she wants him back. Which means that if we go looking for him, there’s a good chance we will run into her again.” Lukas gripped the sword handle with both hands. “I’m counting on it.”
Max didn’t like the edge in Lukas’s voice, but she understood it. Grannie Yaga had a lot to pay for. So did the Piper.
“You know,” she said after a moment, “I knew you were going to come.”
“Of course.”
“No, I mean…I’m bad at saying it, but I mean thank you.”
“I know what you meant.”
“But this time, I’ve got the map and I’m in charge.”
Lukas gave her a look. “Really?”
“I’ve kind of gotten used to it.”
Lukas nodded. “Fine. Well, then, Captain, when do we leave? Dawn tomorrow?”
“Noonish. In honor of Paul.”
Lukas smiled, and the two of them finished their breakfast on the gate wall. Max watched a tiny flurry of snow blow past her cheek and out across the ruins of the Peddler’s Road. She quickly lost sight of it as it was carried by winter winds past the Shimmering Forest and beyond.
A single snowflake spun in circles away from New Hamelin and above the treetops, until it rose high on a mighty gale, joining with others of its kind as they blew eastward. When it came back down to the ground again, it was part of a storm that battered the eastern shore of the Summer Isle. The first snowstorm of this new winter.
Carter pulled his wool hood tighter around his ears and tried to breathe some warmth into his stinging hands. The Piper, as usual, bragged that he could barely feel the cold. When Carter complained about it, the Piper told him to just ignore it. Magicians couldn’t let themselves succumb to something as trivial as the weather. Carter wanted to kick him.
But this morning was too bitter cold even for the Piper, and when he returned with an armful of firewood (it was his turn), they both grew frustrated when they were unable to get the damp wood to light. The Piper was carving a new flute, but it wasn’t finished, so he couldn’t use magic yet to light the fire, and Carter had used all his spark powder in their escape. So they ate a cold breakfast of leftover rabbit as they shivered inside the cave where they’d hidden for the past several days while the Piper’s wounds healed.
But he was better now, surprisingly so, and in the morning they planned to venture forth, staying clear of the trees whenever possible. While the Piper finished his breakfast, Carter sat near the cave entrance, studying the leg brace cradled in his lap. He could feel the Piper’s curious eyes watching him, even though he didn’t say anything.
“It’s a reminder,” said Carter. “That’s all.”
“Is that all?” said the Piper. “I’ll make a magician out of you yet, Carter.”
Carter nodded, but he didn’t look at the Piper. He didn’t want him to see the blush of shame on his cheeks. He didn’t regret saving a person’s life, even the Piper’s, but he did regret how he’d had to do it. Leetha was his friend, and he’d betrayed her. And he worried about what was to come. It was now more important than ever that the Piper not discover the hiding place of his lost pipe.
“So,” said the Piper. “Are you coming with me to Magician’s Landing?”
Carter gave a start. He looked up to see the Piper wearing the most infuriating grin.
“Your face looks like a donkey’s when you get surprised, did you know that?” said the Piper. “You have an ass’s face, Carter, you really do—”
“You knew all along!” said Carter. “Roga told you where your pipe was hidden and you knew all along!”
“Of course,” said the Piper. “Roga wasn’t at all happy with the way you slipped away. She was in such a rage that she would’ve spilled any secrets.”
“Then why go through all this…this whole charade? You let me lead you into the Deep Forest for nothing.”
The Piper grew suddenly serious. “Not for nothing, Carter. Not for nothing. Just look around you. The Summer Isle is changing. For the first time in a very long time, the balance has tilted in favor of evil. But evil hasn’t won, not yet. And that means war is coming. One last war. Winner takes all—that’s what life is about, remember? And I want you on my side.”
“And what side is that?” asked Carter.
“The only side that matters,” answered the Piper, and he grimaced as he sat up straight. He was healing fast, but the arrow wound still bothered him. “Can I tell you another secret? Grannie Yaga stole the Winter Children away, Carter. She stole the Winter Children and laid the blame on me, I’m almost certain.”
“But why would she? That only caused trouble for you.”
“That’s the question, isn’t it? The old witch is playing her own game, and she won’t tell me all the rules. She’s been around forever, you know, and she plots constantly. Who do you think I got the magic mirror from? The mirror I used to bring you and your sister here, the one you shattered. It first belonged to Grannie, and I believe she used it to steal the elves’ children away. There were never many portals. The mirror was one. The Black Door back on earth is another, but I locked that one up tight ages ago. There’s no one back there who could open it, unless…” The Piper’s words drifted off as he seemed to be thinking of something. Something bothersome. Or someone.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m telling you this about Grannie because she’s up to something, and until I know what it is, I’m keeping you far away from her. The only reason she hasn’t found you yet is that my magic is hiding you from her spies. But she’s searching for you. She’s desperate to find you.”
Carter shuddered thinking about the old witch and her oven. He knew the old folktales of Yaga, and of witches in the woods and what they did to children. Rats and hangman’s trees were nothing compared to that.
“The way I see it, you have a choice to make,” said the Piper. “Walk away from me now and take your chances with Grannie. Or you can come with me south to Magician’s Landing and continue your magic training. Learn to defend yourself. Who knows, maybe you’ll figure out a way to stop me from getting my pipe back after all….Or maybe you’ll decide you don’t want to. Come with me or be hunted by the witch. What will you choose, Carter?”
In that moment, Carter hated the Piper as much as he’d ever hated anyone. Lies and betrayal came as naturally to the Piper as breathing, so why should Carter believe anything he said? It was different for Carter; he’d recently had to learn those skills. Much to his shame.
He grabbed his bag and stormed out of the cave, fully intending to march right into the Deep Forest alone, witch or no witch. But then he realized that he was still carrying his brace. Suddenly it represented everything that he used to be, before he’d woken up on the Summer Isle. It wasn’t just a reminder of the pain he’d suffered; strangely, it was a reminder of a happier time, before his life had been upended. That was the saddest thing about feeling happy—you don’t truly appreciate it until it’s over.
The Piper was right. Carter couldn’t leave. But not because of Grannie Yaga. He’d saved the Piper’s life, and that meant that now more than ever the Piper was his responsibility. His problem. He’d started this quest to find a way home for himself and the children of Hamelin, and the Piper still represented the best chance they had. But that didn’t mean that the Piper had gained the upper hand. Something had changed between them. It had changed in Carter.
The Piper had told him that his pain was his source of strength, but he was wrong. Carter’s strength was something else, the thing that had allowed him to endure the pain, to weather it. It was the thing Carter possessed that the Piper couldn’t understand. A tragedy, really, because the Piper had never known it himself.
Carter closed his eyes, and as he breathed in the winter air, he felt it chill his lungs. In his mind’s eye, he pictured his family. His mom and dad. Max. He focused on them, his true armor, his barricade against the years of pain. He pictured the people who loved him, and he felt their strength flow through him.
Then he pictured the little pile of wet sticks, the failed campfire at the Piper’s feet.
The Piper let out a little cry of surprise as the pile of sticks suddenly burst into flame. A small fire, but it burned hot, despite the sodden wood.
A fire created by magic.
The story will reach its conclusion in
The Piper’s Apprentice
I’d like to thank Team Hamelin over at Knopf, Stephen Brown and Kelly Delaney. And their fearless team leader and my wonderful editor, Michelle Frey, who makes my stories better, always. A big thanks to Kate Schafer Testerman, who’s been my
agent for almost ten years, and a friend for longer than that. And, of course, I have to thank my family, Alisha and Willem, who usually get the dedication page, but this time I didn’t want it to go to their heads.
Matthew Cody is the author of The Peddler’s Road, the first book in the Secrets of the Pied Piper trilogy, as well as the popular Supers of Noble’s Green trilogy: Powerless, Super, and Villainous. He is also the author of Will in Scarlet and The Dead Gentleman. Originally from the Midwest, he now lives with his wife and son in Manhattan. You can visit him on the Web at matthewcody.com.
