Timing would be everything. He waited for that first leg-raise to happen again, and when it did he played the musical cue for the dancers to separate and take three quick steps backwards. The civilians did just that, but now they bumped hard into Pipers who were all standing precariously on one leg.
Here it was: Patch’s attempt at chaos. He could hardly bear to watch in case his idea simply fizzled out, but the line of Pipers teetered back and toppled – right into the next line, who also fell.
And the next.
And the next.
Patch couldn’t contain his glee as the wave of toppling Pipers spread out and kept on going. The Pipers let out grunts and yelps as they fell, still trying to perform the movements that the Organ was commanding them to do. Unable to stand up again, they twitched their limbs and shouted, “We obey you, Lord!”
By the time the toppling petered out, a third of those in the Hollow lay on the ground flapping like landed fish. At the centre of the confusion, Patch let out a triumphant shout, laughing as hard as he could. He saw the Hamelyn Piper suddenly freeze, hands stopping above the Organ keys.
He had finally noticed.
The Hamelyn Piper jumped up from his seat and strode to the edge of the stage, his mouth gaping open. The toppling had failed before reaching those closest to him, and as the music continued to play within the Pipe Organ they kept on with their bizarre drill. “Who dares to defy me?” he shouted. “Who dares to defy me?”
“I do!” yelled Patch. He raised his Pipe and started to build another Song – a Push, just to rile the man even more. He launched it and for once his aim was good enough to knock the Hamelyn Piper off his feet, even from such a distance.
The man was stunned for a moment, but snapped out of it and pulled a dark Pipe from his belt, quickly weaving notes together, taking Patch by surprise with the speed and strength of the result. A pocket of air shot from the Pipe straight at Patch, sending him flying before he could move out of the way. Winded, he quickly picked himself up off the ground.
The Hamelyn Piper roared in anger and started to build another attack; Patch was building one too. They launched simultaneously and the two Songs hurtled towards each other. At the midpoint the Songs collided, and a deafening thunderclap echoed around the Hollow. The two Pipers set about forming yet another attack.
Suddenly Patch saw Barver closing in fast from behind the Organ. If the Hamelyn Piper hadn’t been focusing on Patch, Barver would have been the target of those powerful Songs, but instead he and Wren had a clear run. It was only as Barver flew over the tops of the organ Pipes that the Hamelyn Piper saw him, and by then it was too late.
The open pouch of Kaposher hurtled down towards him and exploded. A cloud of dust obscured the man, and some of the Pipers closest to the stage collapsed as the Kaposher reached them.
Barver and Wren saw Patch and started to head towards him.
“Go!” shouted Patch, waving at them to leave the Hollow. “Go, now!” He looked at the huge cloud of Kaposher obscuring the stage. The way that the pouch had exploded left Patch feeling very uneasy indeed. “Get out of here!”
They seemed to get the message, and began to turn.
Then Patch felt the cold edge of a knife at his throat, and a strong grip on his arm; his Pipe was wrenched from his hand. He didn’t dare move, but he could see the sleeve of the arm holding him, with the colours of a Custodian’s uniform.
The Hamelyn Piper’s voice boomed through the air. “You fly anywhere, dragon, and he dies!”
A swirl of air began to spin on the stage, taking the dust cloud higher and higher until it dispersed. The Hamelyn Piper was standing there, the hood of his robe still hiding most of his face, but not his malicious grin. He was surrounded by a shimmer of air, the telltale sign of the protective shield he’d managed to create. The shimmer faded as the short-lived barrier vanished.
All around the Hollow, fallen Pipers were recovering and rising to their feet.
“Let him go or I will burn you,” shouted Barver, maintaining his height.
“My soldier will slit his throat if you make any such attempt,” cried the Hamelyn Piper. He waved a hand in a carefree gesture. “By all means try!”
Barver scowled but did nothing. On his back, Wren glared at the man.
The Hamelyn Piper gestured to his “soldier”. Patch was pushed towards the stage and forced up onto it. He saw the members of the Council standing on the grass nearby, their faces blank.
“Now isn’t this interesting,” said the Hamelyn Piper. He pulled back his hood, and ran his fingers over the Mask covering Patch’s face.
With the man’s hood down, for the first time Patch got a good look at him, and all he could do was stare. Terrible scars covered his face, long healed-over but deep. The man’s right ear was ragged, half-gone. But that wasn’t why Patch stared.
He’d seen that face before, without the scars, but filthy and bearded. “My God,” he said. “You…you look exactly like him.”
“What are you babbling about?” said the man, raising an eyebrow.
“The prisoner in the Iron Mask.”
The man’s eyes narrowed for a moment, and then he smiled. “Oh, very good! Very good. You do seem to know a lot, don’t you? And you have his Mask. However did you come by it? I thought it hadn’t been found. I must try not to kill you, so you can tell me all about it later!” He looked more closely at the Mask, and his smile became a sneer. “Ah, I see what you did! Inside out, I’m impressed! Very clever. I wonder if Casimir originally made it that way, as a device for his own protection?” He looked around at his soldiers, only half of whom had managed to stand again. The rest were lying still. “You’re little more than a boy, and look at all the trouble you’ve caused me. That will take time to fix.” He shot Patch a look of sheer malice. “His Pipe if you please!” he ordered, and the Custodian – the soldier – holding Patch handed it over. “Beautifully made,” he said, studying it. “The glaze is unusual.” He raised it to his nose and sniffed. “Not sure what it’s made of, but look at mine!” He held his own Pipe up for Patch to see. “Obsidiac glaze, of exceptional thickness and quality. Better than yours, lad.” He put his own Pipe away, and gripped Patch’s with both hands. “Shame,” he said, snapping it in two and tossing the pieces to one side.
Patch felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. He’d been getting to like that Pipe.
“I suppose you must be a trainee, studying at Tiviscan,” said the Hamelyn Piper. “Imagine! Tiviscan’s last hope, a child!” He leaned close to Patch, leering at him. “I know a way to deal with children, lad.” Patch squirmed in the grip of the soldier holding him, and the Hamelyn Piper backed away. “But yes, of course the prisoner looked like me,” he said, smiling. “Our mother would have been so disappointed by what I did to him.”
“Your own brother?” said Patch.
“My twin, no less! It was always my plan to have him punished in my place. I played a Song of Forgetting and Piped away his memories, then kept him safe in a secret location. All I had to do was lead the authorities to him when the time was right! But the Eight made everything so much more difficult. They kept closing in on me, hundreds of miles away from where I was keeping my brother. It was tiresome! They almost got me, too. Left me with this.” He ran his fingers over the scars on his face. “A present from the Eight. I’ve wanted to repay the favour all these years, but I had to be patient and not draw their attention. And what patience I have shown! Then some idiot started messing around, playing illegal Songs and making everyone worry about Dark Pipers. I’d intended to put my plans into action next year, but I decided to bring everything forward. Rundel Stone had started to ask awkward questions! I couldn’t take the risk that he’d stumble onto something, or get the other remaining members of the Eight involved.”
Patch gulped. The idiot messing around and playing illegal Songs had been him.
“Why are you doing this?” said Patch.
“To rule! This world needs a
ruler who’s truly worthy of the responsibility.”
“And that’s you?”
“Of course! There are so very few people deserving of power. The rest –” he looked out across the Hollow, at all the people under his control – “cattle. Sheep.” He leaned close again, and smiled. “Now, I could tear that mask from you and make you just another of my soldiers, but I wouldn’t want you to miss the rest of the performance. I think you’ll appreciate it. Right now, they obey my will for as long as the Song plays, but when I am done they will be mine for ever.”
Patch saw the fearful look on Barver’s face, and on Wren’s. They had to escape, he knew, escape and warn the world – and Patch had an idea, a way he could help them do it.
“I have one question,” said Patch. He made sure he sounded absolutely defeated. “Did you ever think of your brother, condemned in the dungeon?” His voice grew quieter with every word, and the Hamelyn Piper drew closer to hear better. “Did you ever think about what he suffered?” whispered Patch. “Have you no compassion?”
The Hamelyn Piper put his lips right up to Patch’s ear. “No!” he snarled with glee.
His glee was short-lived. Patch turned quickly and flung his head forward with as much strength as he could muster, catching the Hamelyn Piper on the nose with the full force of the blow. There was a satisfying crunch as the metal Mask hit home. The Hamelyn Piper fell to his knees with a howl, his hands covering his face, blood pouring out between his fingers.
At once, Patch flung his head backwards, connecting hard with the soldier holding him; the soldier’s grip weakened and Patch tore free. He ran towards the rear of the stage where the Organ Pipes loomed high above him.
“Get him!” screamed the Hamelyn Piper, and more of his soldiers – the Puppets – strode with terrible purpose towards Patch. The Hamelyn Piper brought his obsidiac Pipe to his lips and began to play a Song that Patch recognized at once. A battle Song, and a powerful one – it wouldn’t take long to complete, but Patch realized it wasn’t going to be aimed at him: the Hamelyn Piper had turned to face Barver and Wren.
“Barver!” Patch yelled. “Do as you swore! Get out of here!”
He could see the hestitation on Barver’s face, but there was no other choice. The dracogriff flew hard; seconds later the Song was launched, catching Barver a glancing blow. He tumbled; Wren only just managed to stay on, but Barver kept them airborne.
The soldiers were closing in on Patch, and only one route was left: onto the very Pipes of the Organ itself. He leaped high and got his fingers on the edge of the smallest Pipe, pulling himself out of reach just in time. His pursuers hoisted one of their number up after him. He backed away, climbing the taller Pipes as he went; ahead, he could see more soldiers climbing the smallest Pipes on the other side of the Organ.
On the stage below, the Hamelyn Piper was working on another battle Song to throw at Barver, but after a few seconds he stopped. “No, no,” he said. “That’s boring. I’ve got a much better idea, and I do love a challenge!” He put his Pipe away and hurried to his keyboards. He sat and rubbed his hands to warm them. “Let me see…” he said, and he feverishly worked the keys and pedals, adding more layers to the Song.
Barver and Wren were halfway to the edge of the Hollow.
The Hamelyn Piper turned to look at them and frowned. “Nothing?” he said, disappointed. “Mmm. That really should have worked on a dragon. Hang on! Were those feathers I saw? Was that some kind of beak? A griffin?”
He played a slight variation on what he’d added before, then stopped and frowned again. Barver was at the edge of the Hollow now. They were almost free!
The Hamelyn Piper grinned. “Of course!” he said. “How stupid of me!” He looked up to where Patch was scrambling to ever-higher Pipes, always just out of reach of his pursuers. “Taking control of a mind is so much easier one-to-one,” he called. “Even if the target is a dracogriff!” He began to play again, laughing as he did.
Dismayed, Patch watched as Barver turned and started to fly back, helpless against the power of the obsidiac Pipe Organ. Patch felt a hand grab at his ankle, and he kicked it away, almost losing his balance. There was only one Pipe left to climb now – the largest of them all. He had little strength remaining in his arms, but he hauled himself up. This last organ Pipe was four feet across. He could feel the deep notes reverberate in his bones. Its edge was only a few inches thick and he struggled to stand, almost toppling into the gaping hole at its centre.
Barver reached the stage, level in height with Patch. The dracogriff’s eyes were blank; on his back, Wren pleaded with him. “Barver!” she cried. “It’s me! Please!”
She met Patch’s eyes and shook her head in despair.
The Hamelyn Piper smiled at Patch, then looked to Barver. “Let’s deal with your rider first!” he said. “Fly until you are above the rocks over there. Drop your rider onto them from a great height. Then come back here and eat your friend.”
“NO!” shouted Wren. She tried to jump from Barver, but he grabbed her by the arm and held her dangling under him as he flew off.
The Hamelyn Piper looked to Patch’s pursuers. “Leave him where he is,” he instructed. “Let him watch his friend die.”
Patch looked on in horror. Barver flew away from the Hollow until he was directly above a wide rocky outcrop. Up, up he went, a hundred feet higher, two hundred, three, all the while ignoring Wren’s screams.
At last he stopped climbing. He held Wren up in front of him and looked at her.
Wren was distraught, tears flooding down her cheeks. She could see no emotion in his eyes, only cold obedience.
“Please,” she said. “Barver—”
He dropped her to a certain death below, then turned back to kill Patch.
Wren screamed as she fell. Above her she saw Barver flying off, and she knew his target was Patch. She wondered if her dracogriff friend was still conscious of what was happening. If so, he would be suffering horribly.
She tumbled down through the air. She could see the rocks below her as she hurtled towards them, and she knew what she had to do.
Wren reached to her wrist and took hold of the bracelet that let her take human form. Alia’s words of warning echoed in her head: Do not remove it…You’d be a rat, immediately, and no amount of magic would shield you in future.
She pulled hard, and the bracelet came apart. The beads scattered in the air, becoming ash. Pain coursed through her body as she changed – immediately, and for evermore – into a rat.
At this size, she was safe. She could fall from any height, and the air would slow her down, cushion her.
Wren Cobble, rat, flopped onto the rocks and looked across to the Hollow. Barver had almost reached Patch. She closed her eyes, unable to watch.
Patch saw her change, and understood at once what she’d done. Tears poured down his cheeks, knowing what it had cost her.
Get away from here, Wren, he thought. She was the only one who could warn the rest of the world now.
Barver would be on him in moments. Below, the Hamelyn Piper’s laugh became ever more insane as Barver approached his target. There was nothing he could do, except stand and wait for the end to come, keeping his footing on the vast organ Pipe and its gaping core.
The Pipe.
Patch gasped as the thought came to him. He shook his head, angry with himself for not thinking of it sooner.
Taking a deep breath, he lifted up his right foot and gathered all the courage he had. He stepped forward into empty space and fell, plunging into the darkness of the Pipe’s interior. It grew narrower lower down, jamming him inside; the sense of claustrophobia was unbearable.
He could hear the Hamelyn Piper’s laugh falter, hear him scream at Barver to stop. But it was far too late.
Barver would seek his prey, whatever it took.
Patch closed his eyes. A moment later, everything exploded around him.
Patch opened his eyes and found himself looking straight at the face of a rat: Wre
n was sitting on the Mask peering into an eyehole.
Get up! she signed, and moved off him.
He sat up slowly. Pieces of debris fell from him – smashed organ Pipes and chunks of wood. He groaned, every part of him in pain. His lip felt swollen, and he had cuts and bruises aplenty. He started to work at the twine securing the Mask, eager to get out of it, but Barver had tied it too well.
Any bones broken? signed Wren. She was perched on a large section of smashed Pipe, a few feet away.
“I don’t think so,” said Patch. He looked right at her, and felt tearful. “I saw you fall,” he said. “I know what you had to do. I’m so sorry…”
Yeah, signed Wren. She pointed to the markings around her midriff. The pattern of beads was still there, but they were all solid black now. Being a live rat is better than being a dead girl.
Patch reached out his hand to her, and she ran to his shoulder.
He stood, and they looked around. Everywhere in Monash Hollow, people were on the ground, out cold. In places, some were stirring, or sitting up and holding their heads. The Council members were on the grass near the stage, starting to rouse themselves.
“How long have I been unconscious?” said Patch.
I got back here a few minutes ago, signed Wren. It was a long way to run on little feet. Half an hour maybe? I thought you were never going to wake up.
Just in front of them a large pile of debris suddenly rose up, startling them both. A very familiar head emerged from underneath.
“What happened?” said Barver, blinking. “Why is everything blurry?”
“You ploughed head-first into the organ Pipes,” said Patch. “Don’t you remember anything?”
Barver frowned. He stood up, the debris falling away from him. “The last I remember I was escaping with Wren on my back!” he said. “And then I—” His mouth opened wide with horror. Huge tears welled up in his eyes. “Wren!” he wailed. “No! I killed her!”
“It’s okay!” said Patch. “She’s here!”
“I can’t see properly,” said Barver, sniffling. “Talk to me, Wren! Let me hear your voice!”
A Darkness of Dragons Page 25