Chapter 10
Survivors begin to roll onto the street like scattered dice.
Slowly at first, after peeking from windows, cracking open doors, climbing down from rooftops. When it’s evident that the Rats are truly gone, people abandon caution and come out to see what’s happening.
Facing the gruesome destruction that awaits.
The buildings are even more ruined than before, the Poison-stained walls now with chunks gnawed off. Puddled blood and mangled bones are the only thing left of the dead, and Rat droppings are scattered all over, adding to the foul scent of smoke that swells around the city.
With a pulling force, my gaze swings to the Pied Piper again. He’s below my platform, legs braced and arms crossed, his gaze now locked on the Govern’s manor that lies behind the line of fire.
There’s a formidable charge to his presence that makes my chest tighten.
No wonder he’s known throughout all of Brekon.
Stories are written in the newspaper every time there’s a sighting, or when he fights back a Plague, or when he’s involved in gossip-tinged scandals.
Not every Core fae achieves that kind of celebrity, but everyone seems to know about him—to want to know about him.
And I can see why.
He looks as dangerous as they say. A rage of authority and forbidden magnetism. Even without the music pouring from his pipe, I’m entranced.
Afraid.
Lord Havlon’s presence is laughable compared to the Piper.
The three others with him are Core fae too. One woman, two men. Even from up here, I can see the matching markings that stain the tops of their pointed ears like bloodied candle wax.
As if my own blood is competing with the drips, I feel my back oozing out a fresh rivulet that makes me wince.
The Piper suddenly jerks his head in my direction again, and my breath catches, body freezing. He turns away just as fast, his lips moving as he speaks to the man beside him, though I can’t hear what he’s saying.
Doesn’t take long to figure it out.
The lanky-limbed Core fae with black skin and hair breaks away from the Piper and walks over. He climbs the stairs and stops at the base of the punishment post and looks up. “Might want to hold on,” he calls to me.
I blink at him, but that’s all the warning I get before he reaches out and yanks the entire pole out of the bricked platform.
Like it’s a damn daisy he’s plucking from the dirt.
Since I don’t really have anything to hold on to, I go plunging off. A garbled cry of alarm flies out of my mouth as I fall, the chain sliding through my hands.
I flinch, bracing to have my neck snapped from the chained collar, but instead, the man leaps up and catches me, while he’s still holding the forty-foot pole with his other arm.
He lands on the ground with a jolt, and I hiss in pain. He drops the post onto the platform, while I stare at him in shock. When our eyes meet, his stars flash to life for a split second, just near his temple.
Good under pressure. Will take risks. Competitive.
“Why didn’t you hold on?” he asks.
I stare at him incredulously, unable to form words.
With a shake of his head, he sets me down, and I wobble on aching legs. He reaches up and takes hold of the iron collar around my neck, and with barely a tug, he snaps it off.
The iron clangs to the ground.
Alright, so he’s strong strong.
Got it.
“Thanks,” I rasp out.
But he’s already walking away, heading down the stairs to return to his group on the street below. He doesn’t cast me a second glance.
I’m free now, but I’m unsteady on my feet, and I nearly fall to the ground as my body protests. I breathe through the agony in short pants, forcing myself to stay upright by locking my knees.
Even more people are gathering on the street to see what’s happening, spilling in from the alleys, muttering in huddled groups as they warily watch the scene.
Finally, Lord Havlon comes out from his manor, flanked by four patrolmen.
They smother the line of fire just enough for them to pass through, before making their way toward the Piper’s group.
Carefully, I start down the stairs, though my movements are slow, stiff, full of pain. But I’m alive. I can get home. Check on my family. That alone keeps me from collapsing in a bloody heap. I split my attention between the stairs and the Core fae as I move.
“You’ve cleared the Rat Plague,” I hear Lord Havlon say by way of introduction as he comes to a stop in front of the other Core fae.
“Indeed.”
The Piper’s reply is a rumble that fills me with a strange sense of dread. It does not sound friendly.
“We’ve also cured your Poisoned water,” another Core fae says. He’s a bit shorter than the Piper but stockier, his bald head shining beneath the daylight.
My brows lift in surprise, and people in the crowd rustle with shocked murmurings. The water is clear? No longer Poisoned?
Hope jostles me, rattling around in my head, urging me on. Many people in the crowd peel away, wasting no time to race in the direction of Erews River.
Lord Havlon looks at those in the Piper’s group, and a shaky smile lifts his yellowed mustache. “Well. I owe you my gratitude, then.”
“You owe us far more than that.”
The Piper’s words make me pause on the stairs. Everyone in the street seems to pause too.
Havlon’s brows draw together. “Pardon?”
I know I need to keep moving, to get off this platform and get home before I collapse. But it’s hard to look away from the display. Aside from Lord Havlon, I’ve never seen another Core fae, let alone a whole group of them, and certainly not the most famous Core fae in our world.
Unlike the rest in his group, the Piper wears no sword; only a short dagger is sheathed at his belt. That and the pipe. Though, I suppose that’s a weapon all its own.
I’ve read plenty of stories of him wielding it. Some painted him as a hero, drawing out Rats to save cities. Others painted him as a villain, using his magic for sordid things like luring husbands to their deaths so he could steal their wives.
Unfortunate for the husbands.
I make it another step down when I hear the Piper respond. “The debt is thirty thousand coins.”
I freeze in place again. Maybe blood loss is making my mind flip. Did he just say thirty thousand?
Several gasps ring out through the street.
“Thirty thousand coins?” Lord Havlon sputters.
“Yes. For clearing you of two Plagues.”
Havlon’s face seems to swell with outrage. “I never asked for assistance!”
Wrong thing to say in a street full of your people who just spent the night on the cusp of death. He should have asked for assistance. Even if the cost is astronomical.
Jeering and cursing comes in raised waves from the crowd.
Hateful accusations fling at Havlon with heavy condemnation.
He grimaces, like he forgot any of us were around.
Like he forgot that just yesterday, he had the patrolmen out battling the mobs and then left us all to fend for ourselves while the Rats devoured the city.
“Take it as a token of goodwill that we did come, regardless that you didn’t ask,” the Piper replies, anger tingeing his tone.
Lord Havlon straightens himself. “We cannot pay that amount.”
The Piper stares him down, his voice turning dangerously blasé. “Should I call the Rats back in?”
Horrified shouts ring out. Havlon’s eyes bulge. “No!”
“Then you will need to pay,” the Piper says evenly. “We have no alliance, Lord Havlon. Our territories are in no union. Which means any Plague assistance comes at a price.”
“A price that you set!” Havlon barks.
The pause that follows makes the onlookers tense, and I swelter beneath the peppering anger.
“You’ll need to pay the price all the same, or consider yourself at war with my territory,” he replies, low and terrifying. “Or I can claim Hamelyn if need be. It seems you’ve been neglecting it of late, anyway.”
The threat lands, making Havlon flinch. The Piper’s territory is vast, consisting of not just a single city, but many, including smaller burgs, and it’s rumored that he doesn’t just have patrolmen, he has an army.
Lord Havlon looks around as if someone else can help. Unfortunately for us, he’s all we’ve got. “I . . . uh . . . I thank you for ridding us of our Plagues,” he croaks out, his face gone blotchy. “And I would gladly pay, but our city simply doesn’t have the amount you ask . . .”
The Piper pauses, seems to consider his words. “If you can’t pay with coin, then I will take something else as payment.”
Havlon jumps at the offer. “What?”
His answer rusts out from a voice of steel. “I’ll take some of your people.”
My jaw drops open.
For once, Havlon has the decency to look guiltily around at the citizens he rules. “Take my people for what?” he asks warily.
“That doesn’t concern you.”
I can see Havlon’s hands trembling at his sides. His voice lowers, making it harder for me to hear, but I hobble down another few steps. “And . . . this will make us allies?”
“No. This will prevent us from becoming enemies,” the Piper corrects. “Unless you’d rather war against me? I don’t suggest it.”
The protests in the crowd go quiet. My stomach singes with unease.
“How many?” Lord Havlon finally asks, his tone dropping to a near-mutter.
I hadn’t realized I’d made it to the bottom stair, just above the throng. There’s a healthy gap of space that surrounds the Core fae, but I’m close enough that I can pick out lighter streaks of hair on the back of the Piper’s head.
We all watch, waiting for his answer.
It lands like a blow.
“One hundred and thirty.”
My eyes go wide, and the crowd bloats with stress.
“Done,” Lord Havlon answers—too quickly. He asks no other questions. Doesn’t try to negotiate. Just gives in to the Piper’s demands. He jerks out a nod and then strides away, barking at his patrolmen to follow.
He leaves his people behind without a backward glance, as if he doesn’t even care that over a hundred are about to be ripped away from their homes.
Their families.
Anger rocks through me, pitting my gut.