A Piper's Song: The Pied Piper Tales

by C. K. Johnson

  “Now, I believe you have a visitor,” he added right before we all heard three pounding knocks on the door. The blows landed so heavily, the wood cracked.

  Kelly answered it. As soon as it swung open, my great uncle pushed him out of the way and stormed up to Malcolm, stopping inches away from him. “What is the meaning of this, this atrocity?” Magnus bellowed, his words laced with such power, I could feel it spill out into the room. A lesser man might have quivered, but Malcolm stayed impassive. I cringed.

  “It’s been a long time, Magnus. It’s nice to see you again. Your niece made an offer, an open ended deal, as I assume you now know. Dare I say to avoid you?” Malcolm gave a slight shake of his head. “I found myself worried for her safety. You know how any number of unsavory characters might come to accept such an offer. And I thought it best to stop by and remedy the problem,” he said as he let his hundred-watt grin loose on my uncle.

  The smile did nothing to soften my uncle’s disposition in the least. “If your true intention is to be honorable, I thank you. Having said that, if you wish to do the honorable thing, you will turn her contract over to me. Release her to me and be on your way with my blessing,” he ordered. He slipped off his glove and held his hand out.

  “I thank you for trying to relieve this burden, but I have made a deal and plan to keep my end of the bargain. As you know from personal experience, I am not one to leave unfinished business. I am more than happy to train your great-niece and bring her into the piper world.” Barely concealed amusement laced Malcolm’s voice.

  “No, no this will not work. You are not of her clan. She is mine. You cannot just take people that are not yours—I thought you would have learned by now. This is simply poaching. It will not do. Release the contract, give her to me, and all will be well.”

  “Avalyn made her choice, just as Kyra will. I must decline your fine, though unnecessary, offer, to release Kyra from our contract,” Malcolm responded, stepping around my uncle to face me.

  “Kyra, I must go. Until we meet again, be well.” Malcolm rested his hands so lightly over my ears, his fingers only fluttered against my skin. Despite the barest contact, I felt like I had been dipped into a well of silence, blocking all sounds but my rapid heartbeat.

  A song unfurled and slithered in, tickling my inner ear as it slipped into my mind. Once inside, it started to expand and sink down, growing weightier as it incorporated a bit of myself into its melody.

  He leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “Best keep this to yourself until your dear uncle departs.” He then gave me another half bow and stepped outside.

  “I will tell the Chieftains,” Magnus threatened as he stormed toward the door after my new master.

  Malcolm gave a slight shrug, admitting he had heard, and shut the door.

  Magnus spun on me. “You, girl. You do not know what you have done. I should have been harsher, insisted you come back with me immediately. I foolishly hoped you would come to us on your own,” he growled.

  “Don’t say you left me with a choice. You stole my choice when you compelled me to come to you when I became a full piper.” My voice lashed out with power. The space around me started to smell of smoke, as if I had just blown out a match. I knew my stance would only make the situation worse, but his words and threats provoked me and I couldn’t hold my feelings inside.

  Magnus looked at me, his eyes expressing the barely checked emotion he felt, but the rest of his face was impassive. “I gave you time to finish being a child. I cannot say the same for him. How did you manage to align with the one clan, furthermore the one man, I do not mix well with?” His tone was suddenly congenial as though we were speaking about the weather, not feuding piper families.

  It made me shiver to see the change happen so swiftly. If he could flip one way that fast, he could probably easily do it the other way, like Father, and I feared the consequences. I looked at McKennan, who shrugged, also unable to answer how the man before us had gone from a fiery rage to an icy, controlled silence in seconds.

  His question seemed rhetorical. I had not chosen Malcolm. He had chosen me.

  “You wrote your own deal. I have done what I could, but unfortunately, it was not enough. You must live with that,” my uncle pronounced. Then he left as fast as he had come.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Never Trust A Piper

  THE REST OF THE WEEK FLEW by, filled with school activities and McKennan’s lessons. My mind kept drifting to my uncle’s dire warning. Yet, despite this, I started to feel eager for training—more specifically, being able to use my music. I dreamed of releasing one more song, to soothe the desire that coursed through me. It grew stronger with each passing day.

  I looked down at the crumpled napkin containing Malcolm’s scribbled directions. They looked even less legible than my doctor’s handwriting. It might as well have said drive to the middle of nowhere, turn left at the large rock, and keep going until you’ve lost all hope of seeing another human.

  McKennan and I had been driving for some time. I was beginning to worry that we missed a turn. To be honest, I was more concerned with the never-ending isolation surrounding us. It looked like a place where people came to die. I bit my bottom lip to prevent myself from saying, “Turn around now! Let’s run for it!” Tibet was looking better by the second. Now was the time to heed the feeling of dread that had started to build in the pit of my stomach.

  McKennan glanced my way, and I looked back out the window. Running would do no good. I made a deal and I needed to stick to it. “Once I drop you off, the clock is ticking. I’ll be back in three hours. If you need me sooner, just call me,” he said for a fourth time.

  I didn’t have the heart to tell him. We probably lost service I-don’t-know-how-many miles back. “I know,” I said, trying to sound like this was no big deal, and failing. My voice wobbled too much. McKennan growled, but said nothing more.

  When we pulled up, if I had any enthusiasm left, it was quickly doused. He has to be joking.

  There was nothing but a large, worn canvas wall tent.

  I pulled my coat tighter, glad I had grabbed it instead of a jacket. McKennan warily looked around before heading in the direction of the tent. I followed close behind, listening to our shoes crunch on the ice-covered snow. The dark green pine trees against the white snow made them appear to float. I could see why he chose to live out here, almost. Despite our family’s wandering life, I had become accustomed to basic necessities like indoor plumbing and heaters.

  Malcolm stepped smoothly out of the tent as if he were welcoming us to his large estate. He nodded and held out his hand toward McKennan. They shook and McKennan stared intently at Malcolm. A deep frown marred my brother’s face. The same frown I had witnessed in the past that usually made lesser men back away, and a few of them run.

  If I hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t have believed it. Malcolm glanced over at me, winked, and rolled his eyes. Was he actually amused by McKennan’s protectiveness?

  He blinked and I shook my head. My new mentor didn't know fear. He had no problem facing down my uncle and now he stood toe to toe with McKennan without flinching.

  McKennan kept glancing over, probably to see if I would change my mind. I gave him a firm nod. “Be back in three hours,” he said for the fifth time. The look in his eyes told me he wished he’d set a shorter amount of time.

  A lot can happen in three hours.

  I swallowed and pasted on what I hoped looked like a reassuring smile as McKennan pulled out and waved good-bye. I kept that smile on my face long past when he could see me, trying to delay the time I would be truly alone. When the grey exhaust from his departing truck dissipated, I let out a heavy sigh and slowly faced my new mentor.

  Malcolm allowed me a moment to compose myself and started a small, crackling fire in a pit near his tent. The sweet smell of hickory hit my nose as the smoke drifted over. It reminded me of the large bonfires my brothers would build in late summers and helped tame my nerves.

&nbs
p; “Today, we meditate together. After this, you will do so on your own.” He waved me over to a large log.

  I sat down and shoved my cluttered thoughts into mental boxes I started using for control after my incident with Mark. They were brimming over, thoughts poised to spring out the moment the door opened.

  Good enough. I shifted my attention to my breathing. After what felt like forever, I opened an eye and glanced around. I hadn’t heard a peep from Malcolm since he told me to meditate.

  “Kyra, I’ve known few who can meditate with their eyes open and not get distracted. You are not one,” he said from behind me. I almost jumped up from the log. What was he doing, trying to scare me before we even started?

  “Have you ever seen an hourglass?”

  I nodded. It might have just been a picture of one, but I had the idea of it.

  “By trying to separate yourself from your piper half, you are going against gravity. Let the sand go and see what’s inside. You can’t keep yourself in check until you learn what you need to control. With each breath, feel yourself sinking down further.”

  I closed my eyes again and tried to picture an hourglass as he had suggested. With each breath, I let more of the sand go and came closer to awareness of what was going on inside me. A piece of me I had gone out of my way to avoid before my piper magic surfaced.

  The moment I truly hit my power, it uncoiled and rose up, acting like a long-lost friend come to greet me. It felt explosive, like bottled sunshine, the power to heal and scorch all at once. I licked my lips and shivered in anticipation.

  Why had my father never practiced this with us? He was selfish. He wanted to keep this all to himself. Or he thought we wouldn’t be able to control it, I added, trying to temper my spiteful thoughts.

  I shook my head, trying to refocus on the melody that reverberated so sweetly inside myself, and sank deeper into the song that spoke of me. I could get lost in here. My body housed the perfect music hall, playing back in infinite measure the song of my existence, complete with its own symphony: my heart the drum, my breath providing an ever-changing tempo.

  Occupied as I was, I almost missed the light touch on my shoulder. Malcolm left his hand there until I could surface long enough to nod. Only then did he whisper in my ear, “Tell it to heel. Let it know you are its master, not its friend.”

  I dove back inside and grabbed my wriggling power, trying to do just that. Sweat dripped down my forehead into my eyes, causing them to burn and sting. I dared not let go to do something as trivial as wipe it away. If I lost control, I’d have to start all over again.

  My power, which had been acting the part of an obedient dog, shivered and dissipated, revealing its true nature. Before me stood the wild animal my uncle talked about, and it didn’t care to submit itself to me now that I planned to shape it to my will. The internal tug-of-war raged inside my mind.

  It happened so suddenly, I almost released the reins. Even now, as it lay submissively still, I didn’t completely trust it not to rear up the moment my attention was drawn elsewhere. I had told it to heel and it had listened.

  Again, Malcolm spoke softly in my ear. “It will never be your friend. It is a wild thing, a constant companion that must never gain control. We pipers truly have a devil on our shoulders, whispering sweet promises that we can never give into. The consequence of such a mistake would be devastating. Now, when you are sure it will stay, come back to me.”

  I held it down for a few more minutes, until it stopped trying to slip past me. When it remained submissive, almost docile, I rose up out of the half-awake state and yawned. I glanced over at Malcolm, who had gone back to his log.

  “You will have to push it down every day, Kyra. You must constantly tell it you are the master. The line between you controlling it and it controlling you is very fine. Now, your brothers have told me you’ve only cast two songs, and nothing involving animals. Is this true?” he asked as he looked intently into the fire.

  I don’t know why, but I found it comforting that he kept things so open. He seemed kind, something I had heard was rare for a Master Piper during a lesson. “It’s true. I’ve never sang to an animal. I cast my first song by accident,” I replied, feeling embarrassed to talk about it again. I already felt bad enough that my family knew. I purposely looked into the burning embers to avoid having to see his reaction.

  “Then we must try now. Not all have the ability to call animals, and some can only do so with a pipe. The pipe will only amplify what you have. If you can’t call animals, I do not wish to teach you for naught.” He paused and I snuck a glance to see why he stopped. He had a wry grin and appeared to be debating how much more to say.

  “Your uncle might differ with this philosophy. You never know when you’ll be called to be a Master to someone who can call animals. If you can, I would still suggest you pass them along to someone else because you would never fully understand what it is they are experiencing.” He stood up and held out his hand.

  “Let us start with something simple. See the birds in the trees over there? Call one of them to come to the field so it doesn’t fly directly at you and get caught in the fire.” He waved at a snow-covered clearing off to the left.

  “How?” I swallowed, licking my lips, the sweet desire to use my power tempting me even though I had just seen the monster inside.

  “You will know how, if you are meant to do it.” With a firm nod, he clasped his hands behind his back and waited patiently.

  My power leapt up upon request. Like a large dog excited to see its master’s return, it pushed so heavily against my control, I almost let go. It took a moment to calm it and then sort through the many options it threw at me, almost drowning me in a desire to do far more than the task Malcolm set before me.

  In the end, I pulled out a song that seemed right. The song whispered of soaring through the air and drifting peacefully in the currents, a melody that spoke of safety and passing seasons.

  The resonance started slow, steady, and full, echoing nature’s own rhythm. As the song flowed out, I tried to narrow it down by picturing a funnel. He had only said one bird yet, the song was large, an uncontrolled net cast into a sea of birds.

  My funnel splintered under the wave of power and the birds began to come. First one or two, then three, and before long, the whole flock, and those in the surrounding trees, were soaring forward, weaving distinctively in time with my drawn-out beat. They landed, scattered across the width and breadth of the field.

  It was breathtaking, like hundreds of leaves in all shapes, sizes, and colors falling at the same time to rest gracefully on the snow.

  At the same time, it was chilling. The power wanted to tell them more, and I yearned to see what it meant. I held tightly to its twisting strings, shoving it down inside until I could bring it to heel yet again. When it stopped struggling, I let it be and turned my attention back to the birds strutting on the ground before me.

  “It got away from me a little bit.” I rubbed my hands together, and looked up at him from under my eyelashes. “So what about you?”

  A smile broke across his face. He nodded toward a robin and started whistling. The robin hopped up and down a couple of times and took flight, alighting on his shoulder and coming to rest against his neck as if he were a warm nest built just for it. He lightly rubbed a finger across its back before shooing it away. It tweeted, and then took off to join the rest of the birds again.

  “Good. Very good. I am curious. Is the song you sang one specific to your kin? I have not heard one quite like it before.” He moved in front of me.

  “No, it just sort of came,” I said, looking into his brown eyes for deeper meaning. They didn’t reveal anything.

  “Not all can create what they will. I would keep this ability to yourself. I suppose your uncle knows about this?” he asked as he threw a few more logs onto the fire.

  I remembered the song I had sung for Ben and nodded.

  “Then we must keep it secret from other clans. Have you perch
ance heard of being consumed?” he asked, still looking intently at the fire.

  His question seemed to hit a painful chord. His lips tightened, his jaw clenched, and his hand wrapped painfully around the stick he used to push the logs in the fire.

  I knew so little about my Master and I wanted to know why these words brought him such pain. I might never know. I could only hope someday he would share it.

  I realized I hadn’t replied and whispered, “It’s a punishment if a piper goes bad.”

  The temperature dropped in the last hour and I hadn’t noticed. I shivered and rubbed my arms. All my focus went into the song, bending the birds’ will to my own. I settled on a tree stump near the fire. The radiating heat felt good on my numb fingers and toes.

  “That is correct, but who decides if a piper is bad?” he asked, his voice still tinged with anger that made the air sizzle as his power hit it.

  “Their own clans?” I leaned forward.

  “Actually, any clan can decide. If my clan was to come across someone we didn’t rightly agree with, we could decree him bad and there would be no going back.” He looked up, holding my focus with that penetrating gaze. “Those decrees tend to happen more often than not when the piper in question has a large amount of power the other pipers want.”

  “Oh!”

  “I just want you to understand the stakes here. It helps that you sent out that silly call. It speaks of your inexperience at such an old age. The fact that you are only half-piper is also another deterrent, but it doesn’t hurt to keep your secrets to yourself.”

  “Why are you helping me? My uncle said you are from the one clan we don’t care for. What clan are you from?”

  He shook his head. “There will be time for that discussion, but not tonight. And here is your brother, right on time,” he said as he pointed toward the road.

  Not a minute later, I could see McKennan’s truck start up the last bit of what I would loosely call a road. The truck seemed to carve its own path through the overgrown bushes and weeds. It bounced its way on the uneven surface toward us. I flinched as a long branch scraped against its side, eliciting a sound to rival fingernails scraping down a chalkboard. Through the window, I saw McKennan clench his jaw and grab the steering wheel tighter.