Chapter 11
It’s like a lucid dream.
Nightmarish, as I walk dazedly outside the walls of Hamelyn, caught in a symphony snare.
Grubby daylight shows the horrors in the water, where Rats are drowning or dead. Our city’s river pours into the bay, no longer black with Poison, but crystal clear except for the Rats that churn within it, the waves taking bites of them with each surge.
There are so many. Just ripples of furred bodies like a pebbled terrain. They squeak and splash, but none try to turn and swim back to land. Their minds seem to be still caught in a haze, even though their bodies struggle with a base instinct to survive.
But they can’t. Because the Piper’s magic is a fatal victor.
It’s like a fog, heavy and drifting. It soaks through my clothes and sticks to the drums of my ears, forcing me to float with it.
I hate every single note.
The vermin sink into death, screeching and hissing, and I try to slap my hands over my ears, but my limbs are caught.
My muscles strain against the unseen force, but it’s as if the Piper physically holds my arms down.
With a panted grunt, I give up, my body sagging against the lost fight.
Any attempt to block out the noise of the Rats or the Piper’s music is impossible.
We walk down the shore, alongside the rodents’ last frantic movements, before they all go still. Despite the death they caused, it’s hard not to pity the creatures. The bay chews up its Rat-soaked morsels, and the sea digests them.
And still, the Piper plays.
In the line in front of me, I watch every single kidnapped person trudge down the path. We look vulnerable and childlike, like baby chicks following behind the fox. The city’s wall casts us in shadow, while pillars of smoke rise in the air, permeating with quiet stupor.
Overhead, the core’s pollution squirms like angry worms digging through the sky. It’s a punishment, my aunt once told me. The world broke, and so it still bleeds. But maybe it’s not a punishment at all. Maybe it’s an omen.
That we’re going to be the ones left bleeding.
After a few more minutes, we reach the farthest dock. From there, we’re led onto an awaiting ferry that’s flat-topped and large, with enough space to fit all of us.
Which fills me with a realization.
This was planned. They expected that Havlon wouldn’t pay the Piper.
At least, not with coin.
We file onto the ferry’s platform, shuffling past the low railings before settling on the benches in orderly rows.
Woodenly, I take a seat at the end of the last bench, forced to squeeze up against a trembling fae woman at my left.
We fill every space, and as soon as we’re all on board, the other three Core fae get on the boat too.
The strong one who broke the punishment post strides up the rows, heading for the red-painted winch.
He turns the wheel, and the spooled chain goes taut as he starts tugging our chained ferry across the bay.
He pulls us effortlessly, the only sense of discomfort coming from his expression as he eyes the water with wariness.
As we’re towed across Dolven Bay, I can feel every bump against the side of the hull. Imagine every bloated body of the Rats knocking against the wooden boards.
The sound tightens a coil within me.
I let my eyes drift over the stolen in the row in front of me. Fae and fiend men are lumped together, their postures rigid. A woman and child sit huddled together, matching horns protruding from their sweat-slicked hair.
One hundred thirty.
The Pied Piper has stolen one hundred thirty people, and a question keeps blaring in my mind, louder than his song.
What is he going to do with us?
Turning my head toward the aisle, I see him where he leans against the wooden handrail at the front of the ferry. He holds his instrument lazily against his lips, blowing against it in unhurried calm, keeping us tethered in place.
His hair is windblown, the strips of color on his cloak whipping behind him.
There’s a distinct arrogance in the way he doesn’t look at us, only over us, his gaze skimming the tops of our heads like he doesn’t even care that he just kidnapped us.
Like he doesn’t see us as any different from the Rats.
I simmer with a hot hate that can’t yet boil over. If I had complete control of my body, I would fight and scream and let this hate bubble out to scald him alive. I would get away from him, however I could.
He led us out like children sleepwalking from their beds. Collected us as a debt.
And Lord Havlon did nothing to stop him.
My eyes burn when I think of my mother. My aunt. Somehow, I have to get free. I have to get home.
They’re alive. They have to be. I can no longer think of the alternative. Aunt Lenna would’ve been able to keep the Rats back. Our home was already very well barricaded from pests. Plus, she’s smart and strong, and I know she could’ve fended them off for one night.
That is what I choose to believe. That they’re okay, and that I’m going to get back to them.
Determination solidifies in my chest as I stare daggers at the Piper.
He can’t play that stupid instrument forever. Once he stops, I’ll fight tooth and horn to get away. I’ll do whatever it takes.
For now, I just have to bide my time.
And endure.