The Secrets of the Pied Piper 1

by Matthew Cody

  The sky was gray and getting darker, and in the short time she’d been awake, it’d grown noticeably colder. She was already wishing she had more than just her T-shirt, but she didn’t think now was the best time to ask someone to borrow a jacket. Head held high, Max let herself be escorted through this strange, almost unbelievable, village while doing her very best not to let on just how scared she really was.

  They passed through a small square built around a single enormous tree. The ground beneath it was covered with fallen autumn leaves, and the branches were bare. Boys with long torches lit tall hanging lanterns spaced out every few yards, and in every window burned a candle. Max couldn’t understand why they would need so many lanterns, but she didn’t think it wise to ask more questions just yet. At last they stopped at a cabin on the outskirts of the village, near that imposing wall of theirs. The door to the cabin opened and out walked her brother.

  “Carter!” Max shouted, and the two of them grabbed each other in a giant hug.

  “Do you know what’s going on?” Max whispered. “What is this place, and who are these people?”

  “Isn’t it awesome?” Carter answered. “Don’t worry, they’re friendly.”

  Awesome? Max glanced back at the scowling faces of the boys who had “escorted” her here. They didn’t look friendly.

  “I heard you kicked one of them,” said Carter. Well, there was that.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “He’s fine,” said another boy, stepping up behind him. Instead of holding a spear, this one had a sword belted at his waist. But he wore a friendly grin. “I’m Lukas,” he said.

  “He’s the Captain of the Watch,” said Carter, impressed.

  “He’s what?” asked Max.

  “There is little time to explain,” said Lukas. “I’ve talked to the Eldest Girl and she’s agreed to let you and your brother stay the night, but you’ll be confined inside here.”

  “Confined? So we’re prisoners?”

  “Max,” said Carter. “It was either that or we’d be sent outside the walls.”

  “So?” said Max, her voice rising. None of this made sense, and no one was bothering to explain anything to her. Surely this was a bad dream that wouldn’t end. “What if I want to be outside? What’s so bad out there, anyway?”

  Lukas shook his head. “Your brother asked the same thing. There’s too much to explain now. You’ll be safe within the village walls, but the outside is dangerous. Especially tonight.”

  “Safe where?” shouted Max. “I still don’t know where we are!”

  “This is the Summer Isle,” said Lukas, but his smile had disappeared and his voice turned thick with bitterness. “Welcome to the village of New Hamelin.”

  Max didn’t understand. Had she heard him right? Hamelin? This wasn’t any Hamelin that she recognized.

  “Max, please,” said Carter. “I think we can trust them.”

  “It’s only until dawn,” said Lukas. “At first light, Emilie will want to speak to you, and we’ll have time to explain everything. You have questions for us, but I believe we have even more for you.”

  Max looked at her brother, then at the stony faces of the guards. “Fine,” she said.

  “There are two beds and blankets,” said Lukas, leading them inside. It was a small room with no windows.

  “Thanks,” said Carter. “I’m sure we’ll be comfy.”

  Lukas looked out the doorway, at the sky. It was almost dark. “I have to go,” said Lukas. “But promise me you’ll both stay inside tonight, no matter what.”

  “Well, since you’re obviously going to lock us in, I don’t think we’ll have much of a choice, will we?” said Max.

  “You don’t understand. There are locks on both sides of this door,” said Lukas. “I will lock it from the outside, and I want you to bolt it shut from the inside as well.”

  Max examined the door. Sure enough, there was a sturdy wooden dead bolt on the inside. “That doesn’t make sense. Why lock a door on both sides?”

  “Just promise me,” said Lukas. “I’ll be back at dawn to fetch you, but this door is to stay shut and locked until then. Understand?”

  Carter nodded and Max glared, but she felt certain they were both thinking the same thing—something bad was going to happen out there tonight.

  “There are extra blankets,” said Lukas, and he set a small lantern on the table near the beds. “Keep the lantern lit at all times. Don’t let it go out. It’s filled with rendered pig’s fat, so it smells foul but burns well enough. Careful with it, though.”

  Lukas closed and locked the door, and from outside he called, “I’ll be back for you at sunrise. Try to sleep.”

  Max and Carter were left in that windowless cabin with only the little lantern to keep them company until dawn. They unfolded the blankets and pulled them tightly around themselves, shivering against the chill. Max wished they had a fire, but there was no fireplace and no chimney, no portal to the outside at all, save the door.

  “Carter, do you have any idea what’s going on?”

  Her brother shook his head. “Not really. I thought I was dreaming, but now I don’t think so.”

  “Me too,” said Max. She’d been trying to piece together the last things she remembered, but they were fuzzy, distant. “Do you remember the ratcatcher?”

  Carter nodded. “Although I was hoping he was a dream, too.”

  “And music?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Well, at least I’m not crazy,” said Max. “Or I am, and you are, too.”

  “That’s reassuring.”

  “That’s what big sisters are for.”

  Carter smiled, but he shivered as he pulled his blanket tighter around him. Max could hear his teeth chattering.

  “Why don’t you sit here on my bed with me,” said Max. “We can keep each other warm, at least.”

  Carter sat next to her on the bed, and they threw both blankets over them. “Hey, remember when we used to make forts out of blankets?” asked Carter.

  “Yeah,” said Max. “And the same rules apply, no farting under the covers.”

  “You know, Max, you can stop trying to make me laugh. I’m okay; I’m not scared.”

  Carter scooted closer for warmth, and Max put her arm around him. “Okay,” said Max, and they sat together for a while in silence, as the little sunlight they could see through the cracks in their cabin faded. They would occasionally hear voices outside their door as children ran past and the older boys ordered them to get indoors. But soon enough the sun set entirely and the only light was their little lamp, and the only sounds were the sounds of the wind howling in the night. The village was bracing itself, bracing itself for something bad.

  I’m glad you’re not scared, Carter, thought Max. Because I’m terrified.

  Lukas bounded along the walkway after Finn, mindful of the steep drop. A slick frost had already formed in places, but he’d been a member of the Watch long before becoming Eldest Boy. Finn might have been naturally quicker on his feet, but Lukas knew every splinter of the gate wall.

  The first sighting had come just after sundown, near the front gate. Only shadows in the dark, and they’d fled as the Watch shot a few flaming arrows in their direction. After that, all had been quiet as the pale Winter’s Moon rose in the sky. With that moon, winter and darkness fell across the land—a rare thing on the Summer Isle. But it was a winter that would last one night only. With dawn, spring would come again, and it was the Watch’s job to ensure that they all stayed alive long enough to enjoy it.

  The second sighting came just before midnight. As the alarm bell rang out from the northeastern tower, Lukas could already see torches moving through the streets and along the gate wall as members of the Watch answered the bell ringer’s call. Perhaps it was just more shadows, testing them, probing New Hamelin’s defenses. Perhaps not.

  Finn, however, told Lukas he was needed elsewhere and pulled him in the opposite direction, to the southeastern t
ower instead. No bells were ringing here, but Lukas found two members of the Watch waiting for him on the walkway. One of them cradled an unconscious boy in his arms.

  “It’s Pidge,” said Finn. “The bell ringer.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “We found him like this when we were doing our rounds,” said one of the boys. “Got a nasty cut on his head. We told Finn and he ran to get you.”

  Lukas knelt beside the unconscious boy. He’d seen Pidge just yesterday on day duty, but now the usually ruddy-cheeked boy’s face was sickly white and his hair slick with blood that looked black in the moonlight.

  “He must’ve fallen from his tower,” said one of the boys. “Slipped on the frost.”

  “Not likely,” answered Finn. “Pidge knows his job too well.”

  Lukas stared up at the tall ladder that climbed from the walkway to the bell tower. The tower was a dark spire in the night that reached a full fifteen feet higher than the wall.

  “Anyone know what’s happening over at the northeastern tower?” asked Lukas. “Why are the bells ringing?”

  “A few of them tried the north wall,” said one of the boys. “But they mustn’t have tried very hard.”

  “We had a possible sighting at the front gate earlier, too,” said Lukas.

  “Looks like it’s our lucky night,” said Finn wryly.

  “Not for Pidge,” said Lukas. “He needs Emilie’s medicines. You’ll likely find her in the village hall, telling stories to those who can’t sleep. Can you and the boys carry him there?”

  Finn nodded. “Of course.”

  “Has someone searched Pidge’s bell tower already?” asked Lukas.

  Finn opened his mouth to answer, then paused. He looked like someone who’d forgotten his pants. “No.”

  “We were all busy looking after Pidge,” said one of the boys quickly.

  Lukas stood and peered up at the tower. Its windows were all dark. “Someone’s put the lantern out,” said Lukas softly. The other boys exchanged looks. If Pidge had fallen, he wouldn’t have stopped to douse his lantern first.

  What would Leon have done if he were here? He would have tended to Pidge and sent the boys up top to search the tower. The Eldest Boy’s job was to give orders, to lead. Leon would have had nothing to prove by rushing into danger alone.

  “I’ll go up,” said Finn.

  But Lukas wasn’t Leon. “No, you get Pidge out of here. Give me your torch.”

  Finn started to protest, but a look from Lukas silenced him. Then Lukas took the torch in hand and, without another word, started climbing the bell tower ladder. It was tricky business climbing one-handed, but he dare not drop the torch, because it would be pitch dark inside that tower with the lantern out. And he’d have little enough room inside to move around. Bell ringers were always middles, because the middle boys were generally smaller and the towers weren’t spacious. And because it was usually safer to be a lookout in a bell tower than a guard on the gate wall. Usually.

  Lukas paused just underneath the trapdoor. The hatch was open, and his torch illuminated the interior room above him enough so that he could see his torch’s flickering firelight dancing on the low ceiling. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t something hiding just out of sight.

  The Watch had a saying—If you don’t fear the dark, the dark will fear you. On nights like this, the darkness fed on your fears and spat them back at you. So every boy of the Watch worked hard to clear his mind of such things, and in the end every boy failed. Lukas had always hated that saying, because he knew that any person who didn’t feel afraid now and again wasn’t a proper person at all. It was how you faced your fear that made you a boy of the Watch.

  Lukas swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth and took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. Then he raised himself through the hatch, into the lightless bell tower.

  He moved quickly, ready to strike out with the torch at anything that moved, but nothing did. The tower was empty. The bell, an iron-banded ringer bigger than Lukas’s fist, hung silently from the ceiling, and Pidge’s darkened lantern rested on the floor. The tower had open windows on all sides, allowing a bell ringer to keep watch in every direction. Below, the village was aglow with hanging lights and window candles—the lamplighters had done their job well. Lukas hoped everyone down there was being cautious, however, because an accidental fire would be just as dangerous a threat as what lay outside the walls. Yet another concern for the Eldest Boy.

  Beyond the wall, the moon hung pale in the sky, but did nothing to lessen the dark. Lukas touched his fingers to Pidge’s lantern. It was still warm, so someone had recently put it out. Perhaps Pidge had extinguished it before leaving his post?

  Then Lukas detected a sound, just a small sound like the creak of a board underfoot, but it hadn’t come from the floor. It had come from the ceiling. Lukas looked up, afraid to breathe, afraid of the noise his own breath might make.

  There it was again. And again. Something was walking, or crawling, across the tower roof. He could track its movement by the give in the boards as it crossed to the other side. Whatever it was, it was big. When it reached the edge, Lukas heard sniffing and scraping as a moonlit silhouette dropped down from the roof and into the open window.

  A long snout sniffed the air. Red eyes reflected Lukas’s torchlight. The creature’s fur was dark and bristly, and it wore a leather strap stuffed with knives across its chest like a bandolier. Roughly man-shaped, it was a big creature, and standing upright, it would have been at least a foot taller than Lukas.

  It was one of the largest rats he’d ever seen, and it had somehow gotten over the wall.

  Pidge hadn’t slipped; he had been pushed. There wasn’t space in the cramped tower room to draw his sword, so he brought up his torch in a two-handed defensive stance and readied himself. Rats hated fire, at least, so that was something.

  The rat leaned in through the tower window and sniffed again. Its beady eyes settled on Lukas and the torch as it let out a low growl. Then, in one swift, unexpected motion, the rat turned and leaped away from the tall tower. Lukas dashed to the window in pursuit, but he was too late. He peered into the darkness, searching for any sign of the creature below, but all he could see were the faint outlines of cottages, the glow of candles behind shuttered windows where children slept soundly in their beds, sure that the Watch would keep them safe.

  But tonight the Watch had failed. Lukas had failed. A rat was loose in New Hamelin.

  Panicked cries rose from somewhere nearby, waking Carter from a dreamless sleep. Someone was shouting.

  “What’s happening out there?” he asked.

  “Shush,” said Max with her finger to her lips. She mouthed the word listen. Max was staring at the cabin door.

  Carter’s heartbeats kept pace with the seconds until he heard it, too. A closer sound than the distant voices, like a scraping of wood across wood, like the sliding of a bolt.

  The door. Someone was opening it from the outside, opening the door they had forgotten to lock.

  The handle turned as Carter lunged across the room. He stumbled a little on his leg and grimaced in pain, but he managed to grab the door handle with both hands as he fell, yanking it back closed. For a second or two, it stayed that way, but then whatever was on the other side pulled again. It was strong, far stronger than a ten-year-old boy, and not even Carter’s whole body weight would keep the door closed for long.

  Then Max was by his side. She grabbed the wooden dead bolt and slid it shut just as Carter’s grip began to give way. Max grabbed her brother and dragged him away from the door. It rattled. The handle shook in frustration, and the dead bolt groaned as something pushed against it from the other side. But the lock held, and the door remained closed.

  Carter let out a sigh of relief as the handle stopped moving.

  Max looked at him and said, “What—”

  But she didn’t finish, because the door suddenly exploded in a shower of wood as a shape came bar
reling through it. A man-sized rat stood in the doorway, its powerful shoulders stooped low to fit inside the frame. The creature scanned the room, glancing at Max, but its stare came to rest on Carter. It pulled two wicked-looking knives from a belt strapped across its chest.

  Carter met the rat’s gaze, and his courage failed him. Numbness born out of terror spread through his body. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak.

  Then he heard, from somewhere in the distance, the ringing of bells. Loud and heavy-sounding, like church bells. Carter remembered the bells that had signaled the start of the Piper play in Hamelin. Even as the monster stalked toward him, Carter couldn’t help but think of the children scurrying around the stage in their silly rat costumes. This rat was real, and horrible, and it was coming for him.

  Voices began calling to each other in the dark, and they were getting closer. The rat cocked his head, momentarily distracted by the new sound, and in that moment Carter’s sister acted. Though weaponless, Max still had on her steel-toed boots, and she kicked out at the creature’s shin with all the strength her almost-thirteen-year-old body could muster.

  It was enough. The rat hissed in pain, dropping one of its knives as it clutched at its wounded leg.

  “C’mon!” Max shouted as she hauled Carter to his feet. The rat creature recovered quickly, however, and spun to face them.

  “Get behind me!” said Max, and she shoved Carter out of the way as the creature lunged. It was far too big for this tiny room, though, and tripped over one of the beds. As it fell to the floor, it snapped at Carter’s and Max’s feet. Max jumped back, nearly knocking her brother into the little pig-fat lantern and catching the whole place on fire.

  Which gave Carter an idea.

  The rat reared up on its knees and snarled at Max, its red eyes flashing in anger. It bared a mouthful of twisted yellow fangs.

  Carter grabbed the lantern. Careful with this, Lukas had warned.

  No need to be careful now, thought Carter, and threw the lantern into the rat’s face. The lantern exploded, and hot oil, the pig fat that had been rendered into a thick gel, spilled down one side of the creature’s snout, and rivulets of flame snaked across its fur. The rat arched backward and let out a high-pitched squeal of pain and outrage.