Wren squeaked.
“She’s a rat again,” said Patch. “She had to break her bracelet and change back to survive the fall.”
“But that means she’ll never be able to change again!” said Barver, blinking away his tears. “We’ll find a way, Wren. We’ll find that griffin, and—” He was cut off by a shout from nearby.
“We have been attacked!” came the shout. “Get the rest of the Council back to the tent!”
Patch looked across and saw a group of Custodians; standing among them was Lord Drevis, who suddenly pointed right at Patch. “He wears the Mask of the Hamelyn Piper! Seize him!”
The Custodians ran directly at Patch. He held his arms in the air. “Hold on!” he said. “I’m not—” One of the Custodians tackled him; they hit the ground together, and the Mask popped open and came off. The Custodian pinned him down, but the relief of being out of the Mask was immense. Then Patch realized Lord Drevis was looming over him, staring.
“Good God,” said Drevis. “Patch Brightwater. What have you done? Explain what happened here!”
“You were under a controlling Song, Lord,” said Patch. “Everyone was! Try hard, and you’ll be able to remember!”
Lord Drevis glared at him, but then his glare faded. “There was another man—” he said. He looked around at the debris. “He played a vast Pipe Organ. He tried to seize everyone’s minds! You fought him!”
“That’s it!” said Patch. “It’s coming back to you!”
“He was—” started Drevis, but then his eyes went wide. “No. No.” Drevis looked horrified. “Let him up,” he ordered, and the Custodian released Patch and pulled him back to his feet. “I remember it now,” said Drevis. “The Hamelyn Piper. How is that possible?”
“The prisoner in Tiviscan was his brother, Lord,” said Patch. “He’d tricked you into imprisoning his twin, all those years ago.”
“An innocent man,” said Drevis, stunned. “I condemned an innocent man. Is the true villain dead?”
“He was at the keys when the organ was destroyed,” said Patch. “He must have been crushed.”
“Clear this area!” yelled Drevis. “Find the corpse! Now!”
They watched as the Custodian Pipers worked to clear the debris. Patch felt a dread building deep within him. As each piece of shattered Pipe and broken timber was thrown to the side, his dread grew.
When the stage was cleared, no sign of the Hamelyn Piper – and no sign of his Puppets – had been found.
They had vanished.
Lord Drevis ordered that the search be widened. He looked at the Mask he now held, then turned to Patch. “You were thought to have died when the dragons attacked,” he said. “Instead, the chaos gave you the chance to escape. But why take the Mask?”
Patch shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. But I’m glad I did.”
Drevis folded it, inverting it again. “It protected you,” he said. “Smart lad. And it’s lucky for us that you came back to Tiviscan. Now, there’s much you have to explain to the Council. Come with me.”
Patch looked across to Barver and Wren, who were clearly anxious. He signed to them: Wait here. Then he followed Drevis, who led him across the Hollow to a sumptuous tent where two Custodians stood guard outside.
Drevis held the tent flap open for Patch. Inside, the other four members of the Council sat on wooden stools around a central table. Each of them bore scratches that showed how near the stage they had been when Barver had destroyed the Pipe Organ. Some held small glasses filled with a brown liquid that Patch suspected was brandy; he could see more than one hand trembling a little.
Patch stayed by the tent entrance, but Drevis strode over to the others.
“Your memories have returned?” Drevis asked them.
“More or less,” said Lord Cobb. “Imagine, all this time. An innocent man in the dungeons!”
Drevis said nothing, but Patch knew the comment must have pained him.
“Those Pipes were obsidiac glazed,” said Lady Winkless.
“Impossible!” cried Lord Pewter.
“No, no, he’s correct,” said Lady Rumsey. She held a fragment up. “I’ve yet to do the sums, but the glaze is thick. There must have been a vast store! Goodness knows how he got all that obsidiac.”
Patch kept silent – he would tell Lord Drevis what he knew about the source of the black diamond, nobody else.
“Wherever it came from, it’s ours now,” said Lord Cobb. “It’s a source of unspeakable power, and it will be researched. I’ll put our top people on to it!”
“The dragons may have something to say about that,” said Lord Drevis.
“Let them,” said Cobb. “One thing’s for certain, that amount of obsidiac will be very handy in rebuilding the Castle defences.”
Patch had listened to this madness long enough. “You must destroy every fragment!” he cried.
Lord Cobb frowned. “Who’s this? We’re discussing sensitive Council business! This is no place for a boy!”
Drevis gestured for Patch to come closer, and Patch saw Lord Pewter sit up sharply, eyes wide.
“This is Patch Brightwater,” said Drevis. “This is who was wearing the Mask, and fought the Hamelyn Piper.”
“Brightwater?” said Lady Rumsey, peering at Patch. “Didn’t we lock him up?”
“We did,” said Drevis. “He was in the cell next to the Hamelyn Piper – well, the Piper’s brother, as we now know. Brightwater was presumed dead after the dragon attack.”
“Well then, there’s only one course of action!” said Lady Rumsey. “Guard!” One of the Custodians entered the tent. “Throw this criminal in a cell at once.”
“What are you doing?” said Lord Pewter.
“The law demands it!” Lady Rumsey replied.
“Enough!” said Drevis. “He saved us all. I believe a suitable reward is appropriate for his courage.” On the table in front of him was a small chest, which he opened. He took out paper and a quill, and wrote for a few moments. When he was done, he stood and showed what he’d written to each member of the Council. “Any objections?” he said. There were none, although Lady Rumsey looked slightly peeved. “Good.”
Drevis passed the paper to Patch, and Patch read it.
It was a pardon. It absolved him of all guilt, and meant he was free. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he didn’t care. He folded the pardon up and placed it in his pocket, his fingers brushing against another piece of paper – Alia’s prophecy, and an unwelcome reminder of Erner. Even so, the joy and relief he felt at being pardoned was so strong he thought his legs might buckle.
“Wait!” cried Lord Pewter, rummaging in the chest where Drevis had found the paper. He took out a small block of wood and what looked like an ink pad. “It still needs stamping with the Council Seal to make it official.”
Drevis smiled and held his hand out. “My mistake. Can I have it back for a moment, Patch?”
Patch reluctantly took the pardon out of his pocket and returned it, feeling like it would burst into flames or simply vanish, but it was stamped and back in his grasp within seconds.
Drevis smiled at him. “When this immediate chaos abates, we must talk more. I’d like to know just how a disgraced trainee saved Tiviscan, and the world.”
“The Hamelyn Piper is still out there, Lord,” said Patch. “The world isn’t saved yet.”
“You saved it for today, at least,” said Drevis. “That’s all a hero can ever do.”
At that, the tent flap opened and an out-of-breath Custodian entered. “Lord Drevis, your presence is needed.”
“Good,” said Drevis. He looked to the Council. “The hunt for the Hamelyn Piper is being organized in the Castle as we speak, and I must oversee it.”
“But there are things I must tell you—” said Patch.
“It will keep until later,” said Drevis, and he left.
“I suppose we too should make our way to the Castle,” said Lord Cobb. He stood slowly from his stool and began heading out.
“Oh please wait,” said Lady Winkless. “I need to sit a moment longer. I’m too old to be in such a hurry.”
“Indeed,” said Lord Pewter. “Allow us to finish our brandies, at least.”
“Oh very well,” said Lord Cobb. He turned back to the table, then stopped, gesturing to something on the ground near Patch’s feet. He looked at Patch. “Did you drop your pardon, lad?”
But Patch still had the pardon in his hand. He looked down and saw what Cobb meant, and realized at once what it was. He checked his pocket to be sure, and yes – the pocket was empty. When he’d removed the pardon to be stamped, the paper with Alia’s prophecy had come out too and fallen to the ground.
Lord Cobb picked it up and unfolded it. Patch had a curious sense of unease.
“‘They thought they had us’,” Cobb read aloud, in a monotone voice. “‘But we’re almost clear. Just the ridge to go. What’s wrong with you? What’s wrong?’” Lord Cobb looked up from the paper. “An odd set of words, don’t you think?” he said.
Patch felt every drop of blood drain from his face. He could hear Alia’s voice in his mind, saying exactly the same thing: An odd set of words, don’t you think?
“I agree,” said Lady Winkless. “Very odd.”
“What say you, Patch?” said Lord Pewter.
Patch stayed silent, too stunned to answer.
“The lad’s gone so very pale,” said Lady Rumsey. “The day’s been quite a strain, I imagine!”
An odd set of words, don’t you think? I agree, very odd. What say you, Patch? The lad’s gone so very pale. The day’s been quite a strain, I imagine.
The precise words Alia had spoken. Patch had thought that those words were mere ramblings, but instead they had simply been a continuation of the prophecy.
There will come a time when you hear these words, Alia had told him. A mouth that speaks them is a traitorous mouth.
This was the first time the words had been spoken in their entirety. This was the moment the prophecy had warned him of.
This moment, and no other.
He felt sick with guilt. Erner had never been a traitor. The Council were the ones who had spoken the words. They were the ones who would betray him to whatever he feared the most.
When Erner had said it, Patch had most feared returning to the dungeons, being put back into the Dark by Rundel Stone.
But now…
His mouth went dry as he thought about what he feared most now. It was the leering face of the Hamelyn Piper that came to mind.
He looked at the Council, trying hard to keep his emotions from showing.
Get away as quickly as you can, Alia had said. Run!
The Council were still awaiting an explanation of what was written on the piece of paper. “Just the words of a song I heard,” said Patch. “I wrote them down. Odd words indeed. Now, if the Council will permit, I think I need to go and get some rest.”
“Indeed!” said Lord Cobb. “We’ll speak again later, as Lord Drevis said.”
Patch managed to smile. He prayed that it seemed genuine, because at that moment he wanted to scream and run from the tent.
“Absolutely,” he said, and left.
Somehow he kept that smile going all the way out of the Council tent and across the Hollow.
He reached his friends. Barver was lying face down on the grass, his wings outstretched and badly cut. Wren was perched on his snout. “Ah, there you are!” said Barver. “How did it go?”
“Um,” said Patch. “Yes. It went…fine. I was pardoned. Which was good.” He coughed. “How’s your eyesight? Still blurry? Can you fly, do you think?”
“Oh, my eyesight’s recovered,” said Barver. “But flying? I doubt it.” He sat up and used his hand to lift one wing, then let it drop. It was completely limp. “Something’s broken in there.” He picked the tip up and bent it right back, making Patch and Wren wince. “It shouldn’t be able to do that, either,” he said, with a shrug.
“Perhaps we should, um, journey to Marwheel and call in on Brother Duffle to treat you?” said Patch. “Right now?”
“Oh, I’d rather rest for a few days,” said Barver. “We all should! You seem agitated, Patch. Do you need to empty your bladder or something?”
Wren frowned with concern. You do seem agitated, she signed. What’s wrong?
And even though there was nobody close enough to eavesdrop, Patch leaned over and whispered to them both, explaining what had just happened.
Barver stared at him. Wren stared too.
“Alia warned me that prophecies were dangerous things,” said Patch, frowning. “Never straightforward, she said. Tend to cause endless trouble.”
“She was certainly right about that,” said Barver.
“So,” said Patch. “Marwheel Abbey, anyone?”
Wren hopped from Barver’s snout to Patch’s shoulder. We should leave at once, but how can we get away unseen?
Patch nodded to the edge of the Hollow farthest from Tiviscan. “We can reach the Penance River from that side,” he said. “If we can sneak into the trees, it’s forest all the way.”
“Avoid the roads,” said Barver. “Good.”
We’ve done it before, signed Wren.
“Are we sure about this, Patch?” said Barver. “The prophecy already led us astray once. You say the Council will betray us to the Hamelyn Piper, but how? And what about Lord Drevis? My mother trusted him.”
Patch shook his head, uncertain. “Drevis left the tent before it happened. Perhaps he’s trustworthy, perhaps not. That must be for Tobias, Alia and Rundel Stone to decide, when we tell them what’s happened here. Let them deal with the Hamelyn Piper. We have our own business to attend to.”
“Yes!” said Barver. “Our own business – to find Underath’s griffin!”
Wren looked dejected. Alia said breaking my bracelet would leave me permanently changed. Nothing can be done for me now.
“What kind of talk is that?” scoffed Barver. “We’ll find that griffin, Wren, and all will come good.”
“There’s something we have to do first,” said Patch. He pictured Erner’s shocked face as he’d fallen from Barver and into the lake below, swimming for shore to an uncertain future at the hands of those mercenaries. “We have a friend to rescue,” he said. “Agreed?”
Agreed, signed Wren.
“Agreed,” said Barver.
The Hollow itself was emptying, people going back to the town and Castle. Patch led the way to the far edge of the Hollow, and they waited. When they thought it would be safe, they walked into the cover of the trees.
Their departure went entirely unnoticed.
So it was that the three friends – Piper, dracogriff and rat – began the journey that would take them, eventually, back to Marwheel Abbey. Even after they reached the Penance River, each step they took was leaden, as they fretted about Erner, and the Council, and the Hamelyn Piper.
“Look at us,” said Barver. “Together we saved the world, but we’re weighed down by worries!”
You should play a Lift and lighten our mood, Patch, signed Wren. Like you did to the little ant and the monks in Marwheel.
“My new Pipe was destroyed,” said Patch, thinking of the terrible feeling of loss he’d suffered when it happened. “I hope you can spare a few more feathers, Barver, when I make a new one?”
Barver nodded. “As many as you require.”
Can’t you play the Lift without a Pipe? signed Wren.
“I can try,” said Patch. But his lip, injured when the Pipe Organ was destroyed, was too swollen. When he tried to whistle, all that came out were flubs and raspberries. “Sorry,” he said.
“Never mind,” said Barver. “Do you know the shanty ‘Farewell the Winter’s Frowning’? It’s popular in the Islands.”
“It’s popular everywhere,” said Patch. He cleared his throat and started to sing, his voice unsteady. “Farewell the winter’s frowning,” he began. “The sun’s smile comes again.”
; As Patch sang the rest of the verse, Barver sang too. Wren joined in with tuneful squeaks.
They gave voice to the lyrics of hope and renewal, and as they did their singing grew ever more heartfelt. Soon enough, hope had truly bloomed within them; they smiled and laughed once more. And all from a simple shanty.
For there is a truth, one that is all too easy to forget:
There is magic in music.
Listen…
Patch, Wren and Barver will return for a second spell-slinging, shape-shifting, flame-throwing
adventure in 2019…
Check here for news:
@Usborne
@SethPatrickUK
@usborne_books
facebook.com/usbornepublishing
Patch, Wren and Barver have been waiting a very long time for me to tell their story. I thank them for their patience.
Thanks also to my agent, Luigi Bonomi, who encouraged me to follow my heart when I was dithering about what to work on next.
I’m indebted to Anne Finnis, Rebecca Hill and Sarah Stewart at Usborne for all their help and support in turning my early efforts into the finished work you have in your hands.
My final thanks, of course, go to my wife and children. Without you, there would be no music at all.
S.A. Patrick was born in Belfast. When he was a child, he wanted to write video games, become an author, and have magical powers. The first two came true. If he does ever get magical powers, he hopes people like dragons and griffins because there’ll suddenly be a lot of them around.
He has had four previous books published as Seth Patrick. Songs of Magic: A Darkness of Dragons is his first book for children.
Follow S.A. Patrick online
@SethPatrickUK
#ADarknessOfDragons
For more fantasy and adventure visit usborne.com/fiction
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First published in the UK in 2018 by Usborne Publishing Ltd., Usborne House, 83-85 Saffron Hill, London EC1N 8RT, England. www.usborne.com
A Darkness of Dragons Page 26