Pied Pipers

The Pied Piper lunged at me, snapping with his rat like jaws. He had pointed front teeth, again like a rat's. He clutched at me and bit my shoulder. I socked him hard in the jaw, making him stagger back.

"Impudent whelp. I'll bring this fetid city down with the plague. Let them all suffer and die. You first."

I readied by sword, but he moved so fast, that he was at me with the dagger and scored a hit down my side as I tried to dodge sideways.

I waited, waiting for his next blow. This time I was ready and waiting for his attack. It's a basic combat technique. Learn your enemy's style. This time I parried the blow and drove my sword through the Piper's evil heart. I picked up the pipe's and put them in my pack. These pipes were clearly too dangerous to leave lying around. But there was no time to do anything else. The town's militiamen surrounded me. I cannot raise a sword against honest men just doing their job. Even though I had saved the town from plague, they took me to the cells where we first met. The rest you know.

00O00

Jemmy finished his story. "So now you know the burden that rests on my shoulders. Unless I stop Nazek, I will be culpable for the Infernal Beast rising again."

Tira blinked. "No… you wouldn't be responsible." She gripped his shoulders with her slender green hands, gazing at him with wide blue eyes. "Why would you say something like that Jemmy?"

He gazed back at her. She was a strange looking girl, to say the least. Her face was a bright, unnatural, yellowish-green. It really clashed with her yellow hair and eyebrows. Her skin looked inhumanly smooth. The firelight shone off her green nose and cheeks. "The villain tricked me into inviting him across the threshold," he replied in a dull voice.

"Yes. After he lied. How were you supposed to know he was lying? I wouldn't have done."

Gloom the imp, the witch-girl's servant, gave his screeching laugh. "Oh, the villain could have tricked you too, Mistress? That makes him a mastermind."

Tira turned her green face to the little creature. "That is not helpful, Gloom. Please think, before you make fun of me." She turned her face back to Jemmy and gazed at him steadily. "Now you said you were wounded? The Piper wounded you?"

"Yes," he said proudly. The wound still smarted. "It's nothing. An honourable war wound. I endure it with pride."

The girls at home who were impressed by heroes would admire that kind of stoicism, but the witch wrinkled her shiny green nose at him. "Don't be silly. It has to be treated right now. Please unbutton your shirt."

Jemmy was a little baffled as to how he should respond. Was it appropriate for her to see his bare torso?

He hesitated. She smiled at him. Her full lips were a very dark green, or dark grey. They were almost black. "It's alright. It won't hurt. I know a spell… Don't be afraid."

"I fear nothing," he said indignantly.

"Keep telling yourself that, boy," chirped Gloom from across the room. "'Til experience changes your mind."

Tira smiled so that her shiny green nose crinkled and touched his cheek with a green hand. "I know you're brave, Jemmy. Now I'm not going to let your wound go untreated, so why not just unbutton your shirt?"

Jemmy unbuttoned his shirt. He was aware that he was sweaty and a bit grimy after being in the cell, but the witch-girl smelled even more. Her stench was weird. Like she was sweating rotting berries.

Her green hand felt his torso and her other hand felt his forehead. Her warm breath tickled his face.

"OK… please keep still, Jemmy," she said. "I wanna do a spell to get rid of the infection that's begun. It's a guaranteed anti-septic spell. Any witch can do it. Even me."

How reassuring.

She placed her hands on his wound. He winced, and she mumbled a weird garble of syllables. The pain in his wound lessened. Tira withdrew her hands and smiled at him again, then tore a strip of fabric from her dress to bind the wound.

"Thank you…" he said. He thought he should try and sound grand, as was only fitting for a hero. "You can take away my bodily pain, but not my sense of guilt and responsibility."

She gazed back at him, rubbing her green cheek pensively, then touched his hand. "I wish I could make you understand it wasn't your fault. But why don't we do something fun and you can forget about the horrible things for the evening? I loved your story. I wonder if they're telling stories down in the Common Room."

The three of them went down to the Common Room to look. At this time, there was indeed a group of pilgrims around the fire, telling each other stories. Tira picked Gloom up, and the kids squeezed together on a spare armchair near the fire.

The pilgrims were in fits of laughter. A gaunt man was just concluding a rather lewd tale about a blacksmith. Gloom joined in their laughter, his screechy cackling resounding around the room. Tira kept an arm around Gloom as he sat on her lap, and put her other arm around Jemmy. She rested her cheek against his. Her green skin felt cold, smooth and kind of clammy, like she was a frog girl. Nonetheless, it was reassuring to have her arm around him. It was like how his older sister comforted him sometimes. He let the comfort of the witch's presence and the warmth of the fire wash over him and listened as a grey-haired pilgrim told the legend of Gawain the Warrior Hero, who defeated the Canker in Arunn's Hill, dread follower of the dread demon, the Spirit of Disease.

Arunn's Hill… that was where the evil Piper had been, and where the poor man who had been afflicted with the plague had come from. Could the ancient evil be stirring there again?

"Those still alive know the secret survives in the darkness beneath the earth. The dread cultist is a canker at the heart of the mound, waiting, always waiting, for the chance to rise again and cover all the lands in pestilence."

The audience applauded this retelling and Tira got to her feet, still clutching Gloom. "Well told, Sir, I love the way you tell the story. My boys love it too."

"Your boy? What do you mean? I'm an imp, and proud of it, Mistress," grumbled Gloom. Tira stroked his furry head.

Jemmy thought he didn't mind being Tira's boy at this moment. With the warmth of the fire washing over him, he felt calmer and more relaxed than he had been since the dreadful night he met Nazek.

The grey-haired pilgrim stared down at them. "What have we here? A witch and her familiar along with an untested would-be warrior?"

"Not just a would-be warrior," Tira retorted, the firelight shining off her green nose, "Jemmy has done very brave things already. He could tell you stories too."

She looked down at Jemmy smiling, but Jemmy shook his head. "Not now. I can't go over it again." Did she expect him to start talking about Nazek again? Or the evil Piper? In front of this crowd?

Her brows drew together and she bit her dark green lip. "Well perhaps a bite to eat will cheer you up."

She took him over to the bar and ordered a hot pies and rolls for him and potato cake with apple sauce for herself. "I'll pay you back for everything … um, not sure how I'm gonna do it, though," she said, her green forehead creasing slightly in worry. She shoved a potato cake into her mouth, getting apple sauce on her blackish lips. "Isn't it great, how potatoes were brought back from the New World? They go with everything. You can even make fried chips with them. Wait… where's Gloom?"

Just at that moment, they heard Gloom's screechy voice from the corner. "Gimme chips, now, or else!"

"Gloom!" Tira swept over to the table in the corner, where Gloom was standing near a little boy who had a plate of fried chips. The witch glared down at the imp, her hands on her hips. "Are you terrorising people into feeding you chips? You'd better not be. I'll be very, very cross."

Gloom whined and wilted. "It won't happen again, Mistress."

"Are you a witch?" demanded the little boy.

"Yes, dear," said Tira, smiling at him.

"Can you do magic?" The boy held up a wooden frog. "Make my frog real."

Tira shook her head, her blond hair rippling and bouncing. "No, but I can make him hop."

She held the frog in her green hand and murmured a few incomprehensible syllables. The wooden frog twitched and then leapt into the air. The little boy whooped and clapped. "Yay! Real magic."

"Do I get chips now?" demanded Gloom, hopping up and down.

Eventually, Tira took Jemmy back upstairs, Gloom clutching her shoulders and riding her piggyback style.

"So sorry. I got distracted down there," she said as they returned to their room. "Are you feeling any better?"

"After watching you and Gloom piffle about?" he replied sharply. "What difference would that make?"

"I-I dunno," she said, rubbing her green cheek with one hand.

"A palpable hit, Mistress," crowed Gloom. "What was the good of my behaving sensibly if you just piffle about?"

"Watch it, you," said Tira. "Unless you want a bath?"

"Eep! No fear," said Gloom.

Jemmy had gathered that imps do not need to bathe, any more than cats do. What is more, they hate the idea of being bathed as much as dogs do. But witches and warriors must keep clean. Tira went ahead and ordered that hot water be brought to their room, not waiting for Jemmy's say-so. It would cost in the morning.

Jemmy would bathe first. "I'm getting undressed. Don't look," he admonished.

He made sure she had put her green hands over her eyes before he took off his clothes and went into the little side chamber with the tub.

To his annoyance the imp followed him and started gabbling in his harsh, squeaky voice. "Sorry, chum, but the Mistress seems to think you need supervising. Worried about your wound, or your melancholy, or something. If she gets an idea stuck in her head, it won't budge."

Tira's voice carried easily from the bedroom. "Thank you, Gloom."

Gloom squatted on the tiled floor and Jemmy tried to ignore him. Tira bathed as well, but it didn't stop her musty stench from permeating the room. In fact, now she was clean, it seemed to emanate from her skin even more pungently… Perhaps the dust of the road had been covering up her witchy smell. He got the full force of it as she leaned over him, making a fuss of adjusting his blanket.

How could he complain about it to her?

"Good to be clean and not smell," he said.

"Nothing wrong with how you smell," said Tira, smoothing his pillow with her green hands. She smiled. "I actually like the smell of your sweat."

"Compared to my Mistress, you smell hardly at all," said Gloom sniggering.

"You little rascal!" said Tira in mock outrage, rounding on the imp and grabbing him. She tickled his belly so that he screeched and kicked his legs in the air.

Tira giggled as well. "That'll teach you to be so cheeky to your Mistress."

"You two may not need to sleep, but I do," said Jemmy, grumpy.

Tira sat herself on the side of his bed and smoothed his pillow. "Of course. Sorry."

Jemmy wanted to make a waspish reply, but the stress of recent events were getting to him. It probably showed on his face, because Tira leaned over him, her blue eyes anxious.

"It's like I said, you've got nothing to be ashamed of, my handsome warrior." She touched his cheek with a clammy hand. "You're gonna do great things."

His emotion bubbled up in him, making a lump form in his throat. Oh no… his eyes were tearing up, and he didn't want them to. He wanted to appear strong and impressive in front of a girl, even if she had clammy green skin.

Tira's yellow brows drew together and she leaned close. "Hey, it's alright. I'm here."

With surprising strength, she gathered both Jemmy and his blankets into her arms, and hugged him while he was wrapped in the blankets.

"Can't help thinking of what I should have done differently at Redstone Monastery," he admitted.

"Aw, you think too much," said Tira, nuzzling his cheek with her cold nose. Her sweet, musty smell filled his nostrils. "Why d'you wind yourself up? Hmm? What's the point?"

Jemmy didn't have an answer to that one. It was dark outside, and the dying embers of the fire cast flickering shadows on the walls. Gloom was scuffling about in the corner. Tira held him tight and Jemmy felt the knot of worry in his stomach unwind and his muscles relaxed. He fell asleep in her arms.

00O00

Jemmy awoke the next morning to the sound of birds chirping outside the window. The sun streamed through the window, warming his face. He felt a lot lighter and calmer. He sat up. Tira was lying beside him, fast asleep, although she was not under the blankets. Her blond hair was spread around her on the mattress. She was clothed in her ragged dress. The only clothing she had. The sunlight shone off her green cheeks and forehead.

He gripped her shoulders and shook her gently. "Tira?"

Her eyelids fluttered and she mumbled. "Lemme sleep, Gloom."

He gingerly touched her green cheek. It didn't feel improper to do that, now she had held him in her arms and comforted him. He supposed that kind of thing broke down the formal barriers that existed between him and strange ladies.

Her blue eyes opened and she gazed up blearily. "Huh?" Her eyes focused on him and she smiled. "Oh. Good morning, dear." She sat up and kissed him.

Gloom the imp clambered in at the window, a long earthworm in his jaws. "Are you kids going to waste the entire day? I've been out hunting. Shekka knows the bills high enough already at this place."

He dumped the earthworm on the floor. "Do you two want a bite?"

Tira wrinkled her shiny green nose. "No thanks."

"I know what we must do," said Jemmy. "I have my sense of purpose again." That phrase impressed the girls back home.

Tira beamed at him. "That's great."

We must go to Arunn's Hill. We both know that an ancient evil is stirring there. There are people there who need our help. There are lives to be saved."

Tira nodded vigorously. "That's why I got myself turned into a witch. I wanna save lives."

00O00

The three of them travelled by road directly to the hill's. By mid-afternoon, they caught sight of the village by Arunn's Hill.

Gloom skittered about, clearly nervous. "Brr! What a place. Gives me the creeps!" Stumbling on the road. It was clear what he meant. A deathly stillness hung in the air. The village was shrouded by the smoke from several bonfires. Tira's blue eyes were wide and anxious. He gave her clammy green hand a reassuring squeeze.

An old woman with a huge pack of possessions tied to her back stumbled towards them. "Stay away, handsome boy! Stay away, green girl! There's a plague in Arill!"

Arill… the local contraction of Arunn's Hill.

The witch and the warrior looked at each other. The witch bit her dark green lip and nodded.

They walked towards the plague-ridden settlement.

"Huh. I must be mad to follow you," grumbled Gloom.

As they entered Arill, they could see that many of the buildings had large red plague symbols painted on their doors. Two men were unloading corpses from a cart and throwing them onto one of the bonfires. The smell of burning flesh made Jemmy's stomach heave. Beside him Tira sobbed.

He turned to her. "Are you alright?" he asked awkwardly.

"Yes – Nun-no… my mother died from disease…" her voice was choked. She sniffled. There were tears shining in her blue eyes. "But I wanna help. I wanna save lives."

Jemmy nodded and called out to the people what their intentions were. "I am a warrior and she is a witch. As a pair, you'll find us uniquely qualified."

"Ooh… bravado," said Gloom. "I hope you never loose it, boy."

One of the men who had unloaded the corpses smiled and led him to the village elders who were in a large, stone building. The only stone building in sight.

The village elders, two gentlemen and one lady, listened impassively as Tira and Jemmy assisted each other in explaining their intent to free Arill from the plague. It was a little difficult, because Tira almost broke down sobbing again.

"Arill is overrun with rats," said Edgar, the chief elder, "and it is clearly these vile rodents who brought the plague. A demon-worshipper lured them hear with his pipes."

Jemmy nodded. "I know. I killed the rat faced evil-doer myself. I just pray to Seraton that I'm not too late to undo his wicked work."

Tira nodded, her blueberry coloured bottom lip quivering.

"We have a plan," said Edgar, "if it were possible to get all the rats into the old barn outside Arill, we could eliminate them. We could set fire to the barn and contain it, without the fire spreading. But we've got no way of luring the rats there. But you boy, you've a witch with you."

"Good to feel appreciated, eh Tira?" said Gloom.

Tira smiled and nodded.

Jemmy had a brainwave. "The pipes! I took the ratty villain's pipes when I killed him! I've got no magic to make them work, but Tira has magic in her blood and heart."

"Yes!" Tira grinned. "What an idea. I wanna do it."

Gloom shifted on his clawed feet. "You'd lure the rats into the barn, and then what? Die for the cause?"

"No, don't be silly, Gloom." Said Tira. "A witch can make a broomstick fly. I know what the spell is. It's just I've never flown before. I'd have to practice."

"We can get you a broom," said Edgar.

"While we're here, best eat the Aramance I got at Redstone," said Jemmy. "It may help ward off the plague. I think we'll need it."

He divided the sprig into three and chewed on his part. It tasted sort of bitter. He hoped it would work.

00O00

Outside the village, Gloom and Jemmy watched while Tira held an old broomstick in her green hands and muttered strange sounding words. The broom twitched.

"Okay… gottit." Tira straddled the broom and it rose into the air, but then she slipped off and tumbled to the ground and the broom rose in a lazy arc and then plummeted back to the ground.

Jemmy helped the witch to her feet.

"Thanks, dear… it's harder than it looks."

"You made it look really straightforward, Mistress," sniggered Gloom.

On her second attempt, Tira rose into the air and stayed there. Then she floated gently back to the ground. She grinned at them. "Okay boys, I'm ready to carry you." She beckoned with a green finger.

Jemmy uncertainly straddled the broom as well. "Put your arms around me, Jemmy."

Jemmy circled his arms easily around her slim waist. Her soft hair tickled his cheek.

Gloom the imp perched onto the handle behind him. "Imps are much more graceful than humans. See? I've got the reflexes of a cat. I can stand."

"That's great, Gloom," said Tira. "Now…" the broom rose into the air and Jemmy felt a thrill as the ground grew smaller beneath them and the wind rushed in his ears. Arill stood beneath them, the wooden houses small as piles of twigs, the smoke from the bonfires rising up in lazy plumes… It really felt like they were doing something impossible.

Then Tira gazed downwards pushing her green hands onto the handle, and the broom plummeted back to the earth, in such a way that it made Jemmy's stomach lurch.

"Now we'd better try… Um, Jemmy…" Tira put a green hand on his arm. "If you don't wanna come, I'll understand. It is dangerous, and you've got no magic."

"I've got a sword," he replied. "If the rats threatened you, I can certainly make them taste my blade. No magic needed for that."

"Well said," Chirruped Gloom. “Don’t you want to save lives, Mistress? You can’t do anything without a sword at your side. Not a thing. I suppose you don’t want Arill to die of the plague?”

"I'm coming with you," persisted Jemmy. "Any danger you can face, I'm facing. You can't do without me, anymore than I can do without you."

He said that last part without really thinking about it. But on reflecting, it started to seem right… he had needed her reassurance the previous night.

Tira gazed at him with wide blue eyes. She sighed, rubbing her green cheek with one hand. "You are brave… maybe too brave."

She put the Piper's pipes to her blackish lips and blew. She looked funny with her shiny green cheeks puffing up.

An eerie, dirge-like melody rose from the pipes, slow and haunting. Jemmy carried the broomstick, and followed the witch, Gloom scampering in their wake. With a shudder, he became aware of hundreds of beady eyes watching them. Crawling out of the cellars and sewers of Arill, the rats came in their hordes. Some were thin and scrawny, while others were large as dogs and covered in coarse black fur. Jemmy could see their sharp, yellow teeth and in every red eye, a malevolent gleam…

Tira's blue eyes were fixed on the way ahead. Her tune increased in tempo and the rats swarmed towards them, a river of furry bodies. The witch-girl led the way from the village to the barn, and Jemmy found himself skipping along to the rhythm, which had got a bit like a spooky dance melody.

They entered the dingy barn. The only light from the setting sun shone through the gaps in the roof. It smelled musty, like bad hay. The rats swarmed in after them. Gloom made a disgusted sound, and leapt onto Jemmy's shoulder, his clawed feet pinching. The multitude of rats stood around the three of them, entranced by Tira's magical tune. When every last rodent was in the barn, the villagers slammed the heavy doors shut. They were going to set the dry straw alight with torches. Tira had to keep playing as long as possible to leave the rats no opportunity of escape. But would the three of them be able to fly off in time?

Flames began to lick up the wooden walls and heat and smoke surrounded them, making Jemmy choke. Tira's blue eyes flickered around, wide and alarmed, as the firelight shone off her green nose and cheeks. She stopped playing and at once, the barn was filled with the terrified squeaking of rats trying to flee, but finding themselves trapped by walls of flame. The only way out was to fly up through the hayloft.

"Quick!" Tira's voice quivered with fear as she straddled her broom, but at that moment, the plague-rats leapt at them from all sides, ready to bite with their diseased jaws. As the walls of flame encircled them, Jemmy raised his sword...