The Children of Hamelin

by Danny Lasko

  The snow is dwindling. In the sky, on the ground. The wind is dying.

  “We don’t have much time. Jayce is losing steam.”

  “Relax, Dad. This could be any lake anywhere. They missed the Cellar. It’ll take some time.”

  “Not as much time as you think. Time to play the pipe.”

  “But it doesn’t work.”

  “Of course it doesn’t work when Annie or Linus play it. You got the Call. The pipe was given to you. You must play it.”

  “Okay, let’s get out of here, and I’ll figure this out.”

  “No, son! You have to play it now! Time is running out.”

  “Dad, it’ll be hours, days maybe, before they figure out that we’re at the mouth of the—”

  With the snow melted and no longer falling, with the ice transformed back into a lazy lake, a nearby wrecked shack on the banks of the river, a sign hanging on a single nail strikes a fear in me that sucks the air out of my lungs. I lock on words in flaked red letters: Itasca Bait and Tackle.

  “That’s it,” breathes Jayce, doubled over as he runs up. “That’s all I got.”

  “Time to go,” I call.

  “I will not let you run away again!” shouts my dad, grabbing my coat.

  “I don’t have time for this. Let’s go!” I jerk away, pull Annie, and call the others, heading back to the shuttle. We’ll figure out another way to get to Britain. Two seconds later, the air bursts with the crash of an explosion coming from the direction of our only escape.

  “Man, that was fast,” I mumble, scanning the sky for Synarch cruisers or worse.

  “It wasn’t the Synarch or the wizards,” calls my dad, grabbing me and slapping the pipe back in my hand. “It was me. I burned the ship!”

  “What?”

  “There’s no going back now. Only forward. Play the pipe!”

  “You are insane!”

  “No, the insanity is that after all you’ve seen, you still haven’t accepted the Call, Horatio. Decide now. Play the pipe or everyone dies!”

  “I don’t know how!”

  “I’ll show you. Here,” says Annie, forcing my fingers on the right set of holes.

  “Guys, do you hear that?” asks Jayce. I think he means the distant rumbling. The distant rumbling that’s getting less distant by the second.

  “Softly,” she says.

  I try, but just as before, more air than sound comes out.

  “Softer,” she instructs, “like you’re whispering in my ear.”

  PLAYSONG ship rises into the air DON’TPLAYSONG Dad dies Annie dies Linus dies Jayce dies you are captured.

  I close my eyes and whisper into the pipe, thinking of Annie and the summer nights in her backyard. The note hits perfectly.

  “Whoa,” I hear mixed amongst the growing roar in the sky. I open my eyes to see the end of the pipe on fire! No, not on fire, but lit with bright wisps of light spilling out of its mouth. Annie places my fingers again, and I play the second note. The wisps grow brighter, longer and begin to stretch out towards the wreckage. I focus on the Jolly Roger.

  “It’s getting louder!” shouts Jayce, describing the thunder.

  “Board the ship!” cries Linus. I hear my dad’s footsteps trail away and assume he and Jayce follow Linus’s direction.

  Another two notes. The light finds its way into the holes of the hull and wraps itself around it. The ship creaks and cracks, seemingly urging for more.

  “You’re doing it, Raysh. It’s working!”

  Another few notes. I can barely hear them over the thundering onslaught of Synarch cruisers and the earsplitting cracks of wood coming from the wreckage beside me.

  We peel off the last of the notes. The trails of light yank the pirate ship from the last of the overgrowth that had kept it safe and imprisoned for so long. The Jolly Roger, or at least what’s left of it, floats free from the trees and muck ten feet in the air, it’s rotting hull dripping bits of decomposed wood and whatever’s been growing on it over the last two hundred years. But thanks to my dad, it’s all we’ve got.

  I push Annie up a shoddy rope ladder to the quarterdeck. The ragged sails are at full. There must be seven or eight of them. The ghost ship rises high over the trees, revealing clear skies.

  “Let’s go,” I say, seeing Linus is already at the wheel.

  “On our way!” he answers. But then we’re all thrown forward as the ship jerks back. Pieces of rotting debris shower us. I whirl around, expecting to see the tractor beam of a Synarch cruiser reeling us in like a desperate fish. But nothing’s in the sky above us. The thunder isn’t coming any closer. My guess is they’re investigating the recent explosion and burning heap a few hundred yards from here.

  “It’s tied up!” yells my dad. He disappears over the ship’s wall before I can get to him. I peer over the side to see him shimmy down the rope, hit the ground, and then try to untangle the bird’s nest of rope corralling us among the trees. With one hand!

  I leap over, grabbing the rope on the way down with one hand and unsheathing my sword with the other. Suddenly, I see the Synarch’s armada rise over the trees. They’ve found us.

  I flip myself so I’m sliding headfirst and lock my leg into the rope about seven feet from the ground. I reach out and grab my dad’s arm then slice the rope with a clean swing of my sword. We’re free.

  Linus lifts the Jolly Roger over the trees and turns as fast as the massive ship will let him, swinging me and my dad every which way through the air. I look up to see Annie and Jayce trying to pull us up, but it’s not doing any good. But I see what will.

  “The cannons!” I cry. “Fire the cannons!” I point to the gun ports all along the side.

  “They’re all rusted!” cries Jayce.

  “Then fire the rusted cannons!” I scream.

  After Linus shouts off directions, Annie pushes Jayce out of the way and fires a shot at the leading cruiser, sending it careening to the earth and I am immediately sold on the magic of the Jolly Roger. No wonder Hook was so feared. One down. I see at least four others trailing behind. Annie fires at will. Jayce must have joined in because a barrage of cannon fire scatters our attackers. They manage to take down one more cruiser and badly damage another before we put some distance between them and us. But the remaining cruisers are still following.

  I have another problem. I’m not worried about my leg; it’s secure, and the rope isn’t going anywhere. But my dad has long since lost his grip with his remaining hand, and my own is starting to perspire. I try to pull him up to get a better grip or to lift him to the rope, but the force of the ship’s speed is fighting against me. Annie, Jayce, and Linus, who’s put us on a straight shot out of here, are all trying to pull us up, but it’s slow going. And we can’t afford to stop. I give it one more heave and manage to pull my dad high enough to grab him around the chest, under his arms, with both of mine. I’m still holding the sword, unable to sheathe it. That’s when I realize the fight isn’t over.

  The cruisers are trailing, falling back. But two other ships have taken their place. Smaller ones. More like the old Spirit than anything the Synarch has. They’re fast, too, easily matching our speed. Wizards.

  “You have to let me go, Horatio,” yells my dad into my ear. I ignore him.

  “It’s the only way. You can make it without me.” My grip loosens.

  SCREAMFORLINUSTOSTOPSHIP rope gets shot by wizards SCREAMFORANNIETOSTOPSHIP Annie tells Linus to stop ship Linus stops ship you and Dad swing to safety.

  “Let go! Save yourself! Save Mira!”

  “Dad, shut up!”

  I double up my grip on my dad’s hand.

  “Annie! Stop the ship!” I cry. “Stop the ship!” I don’t know how she hears me, but she does. She screams at Linus, whose confused face suddenly brightens.
He disappears just as the first hot fire rips across the ship’s port side, splintering away the decayed planks. Jayce fires back, but the small shuttles are too fast for the awkward cannons.

  Without warning, the ship defies all laws of nature—it breaks so hard that my dad and I swing forward fast enough to swing high up and over the deck. I drop my dad about ten feet above Jayce, who prepares for the collision. I flip myself right side up, grab hold of the main mast, and slide down a nearby rope fastened to its base.

  I hurl myself below deck and reach the rearmost cannon and set the closest of the two wizard ships in my sights.

  Fire.

  One down, one to go. I clip him just enough that he can no longer continue but should be able to land. That’s what I want. The same goes for the other.

  Fire.

  And miss. It jolts me. I don’t miss. I have never missed. Not in anything I’ve aimed for. The wizard fires back and, thanks to Linus, misses off the starboard side.

  He must see what I see, I think. Another soothsayer. Or maybe, maybe the second sight!

  “Annie!” I cry, waving her over to the cannon next to mine. There’s only one way to beat him. I fire three more shots just to make sure I’m right, and he makes his move each time just as I pull the trigger. He knows where I’m aiming and when I’m firing.

  I flash forward. Not yet. Not yet. He lets go a barrage of heat that penetrates the hull not more than ten feet from me. That one hurt. Not yet.

  “Now!” I whip my head over to Annie just before she fires the cannon. The wizard’s cockpit lid pops off, and the pilot bursts out into the sky just as Annie’s shot cuts a gash through his ship, causing it to erupt in a wave of yellow flame.

  By the time we reach the deck, all we can see is a speck of a parachute floating to the ground below.

  I scan the deck to make sure everyone’s alive. My dad is favoring his right arm and he’s lost his silver hand and Jayce can’t stand up straight, but they’re still breathing. Annie’s on it.

  “Something special about this?” I ask my dad, holding up the frayed end of the rope about two inches from his face.

  “We were stuck.”

  “I could have cut it from this side, Dad!”

  “Ah,” he says after a moment. “I should have thought of that.”

  “You think—wait, we’re turning around. Linus! We gotta go get that guy!” I yell, pointing to the parachute.

  “But safety is that way,” Linus shouts, pointing in the opposite direction.

  “He’s our second sight!”

  Linus flings the wheel, letting it spin while the ship banks around, back toward the fallen wizard. The Synarch cruisers can’t even be seen now. Must have given up.

  The wizard stops and rolls to the ground, detaching his chute. He’s making a run for it into a nearby wood that spans the countryside for miles. If we don’t get him before, we won’t ever get him.

  “Jayce,” I call out. “Do you have it in you?”

  “I’ll try,” he winces. He lumbers over to the side of the deck. I watch him focus hard enough to push beads of sweat away from his temples. But it must be working. The wizard slows down about fifty yards from the woods. Thanks to Jayce, he thinks he’s already hit the tree line.

  Linus comes in low and to the side. By the time the wizard realizes we can still see him, it’s too late. I leap off the ship and tackle the wizard just as he tries to turn around and make it to cover. He’s bigger than I thought, which is good—more to break my fall. I roll over the big guy and back onto my feet. He handled the brunt better than I had hoped and is up before I can deliver a knockout blow. His eyes are covered with blacked-out goggles. I pull my sword. He pulls something else. Something that shoots.

  I flash forward and leap back to get some distance between the wizard and me. With each shot, I move just before it can hit me. They’re coming fast. So fast my mind pushes two or three moves ahead at a time.

  Finally, I see my chance, and I feel the blade sing through the flesh as I pierce his shoulder. His arm and the gun go limp. A few quick blows to the head with the broad side of the blade and the hilt hits square on his jaw. The big wizard falls to the ground. Guess his second sight couldn’t help him at such close range. No time to react. I’ll have to remember that.

  I love this sword.

  I have a pretty good idea of who this is. I pull off the goggles, expecting to see Bo Kotch, the former Knights striker and all-around scumbag. He had had contact with me. My mother had told me the wizards had infiltrated every level of society. It shouldn’t be a surprise they would have someone in the League. Or a Citizen.

  I study the face for less than a second before crouching down, juggling the loose goggles in my hand, and looking off into the near woods.

  “What is it?” asks Annie, stepping up. “Do you know him?”

  I nod my head. “Yeah.”

  “So it’s your second sight.”

  “Special Agent Farr?” questions my dad. “He’s your—”

  “No. He’s not a Child or a Wizard or anything. He’s just a Synarch goon.”

  “The Synarch goon in charge of the manhunt against you,” adds Linus.

  “I know.”

  “The Synarch goon in charge of the manhunt against you working with the wizards,” adds Linus again.

  “The Synarch knows about the wizards?” asks Jayce. “Does that mean they know about us?”

  “I don’t know, guys! I’m pretty new to all of this, you know?”

  “Then how did he know what you were going to do?”

  I glance down at the goggles just in time to see a flickering light come from inside the darkened lenses. I pull them up to my eyes, and see what I expect to see.

  “Look in these,” I tell Annie. “Tell me what you see.”

  “I … ” she says taking a step back. “I see me. No matter where I look I see me, like—”

  “Like you’re looking through my eyes.”

  “Yeah!”

  “He’s not the guy.”

  A red light right between the lenses starts flashing. I flash forward, grab the goggles, and chuck them. They blow in midair. They know that we know.

  “Let’s go,” I say, shaking my head in disgust.

  “What about him?” asks Annie.

  I study the sky for any sign that Special Agent Farr isn’t alone. But not even a vapor trail still lingers there. If this were The Escape, if my opponent were lying on his back, I’d make sure he wouldn’t move for the rest of the game. One less obstacle to worry about. But this isn’t The Escape.

  I nod to Annie, who eagerly jumps to his aid. I grab her hand.

  “Just don’t heal the bump on his head.”

  “Fine.”

  Annie heals the special agent’s more serious wounds and is back on the ship before I can convince the others to make a quick detour before continuing Pock’s journey.

  “Head for Appalachia,” I call out to Linus.

  “What?” asks my dad.

  “Yes, what?” asks Linus.

  “Just do it,” I order, pinching my eyes with my thumb and forefinger. I keep them closed.

  “But Pock wants us to head to Britain.”

  “And we’ll go to Britain,” I say, “after Appalachia.”

  “What’s in Appalachia?” asks Jayce.

  “The Rim.”

  13

  Granddad York

  “NO.”

  “It’s not your call.”

  “I’m your father, and I am making it my call.”

  “It’s Granddad, and I’m captain of this ship. You blew up your ship, remember?”

  “Yes, I remember. And it saved us.”

  “See, this is why you weren’t supposed to come wi
th me.”

  It’s going on twenty minutes of this back and forth, with no end in sight. Not even the revelation that Granddad is alive helps to convince my father. I’m not sure if it makes it better or worse that I have to keep my eyes closed. Now that I know it’s possible that more than one person can see what I see, I don’t even want them to have a chance at reading lips.

  “He knows the wizards. He might know where to find the guy who can see what I see. Or at least how to stop it. How far do you think we’re going to get with my eyes shut? Do you know how to beat second sight without finding the guy?”

  “No,” my father struggles to say. I know it’s not in his nature. He usually has a gadget for any situation.

  “He’s right,” says Linus from the wheel. “Horatio is more harmful than good until we can free him of the visual parasite. If your father-in-law has information that could help us avoid the wizards, we have to risk it.”

  I’m a little surprised by Linus’s defense. It’s as if the fire thing never happened. Maybe somehow he doesn’t know?

  “Second sight or not, Horatio, you’re alive and you have a job to do. I don’t know if I can say that after the Rim.”

  “Dad, no one’s gonna be looking to stop someone breaking into the Rim.”

  He stops in the middle of trying to say something, pushes out a sigh and then I hear the merciful sound of his step-clomp backing away towards Linus and Jayce up on the quarterdeck.

  I hear the three of them pointing out directions and concerns about the ratty sails or the worst spots of the deck. I pull out the pipe. I run my fingers over the smooth, warm wood. The scent of peppermint hasn’t faded at all. My fingers feel the carving of the crow symbol. I want to open my eyes to examine it, but I resist. It’s strange. It doesn’t feel like two crows clinging to a branch. It feels more like two letter p’s, one inverted and upside down, sharing the same stem. “P”, for Pock, maybe. I slip my fingers inside the pipe’s mouth, running them around the lip. I wonder about the limit of its power. It brought this ship back from the dead. And worked only when I played it.