Wild Magic (3 page)

“
Eurgh!
” he said. “Miner's sneeze!”

Everyone laughed. They were all giddy with happiness. Even Greta seemed brighter. She wasn't hugging her rag doll anymore. She was showing it the stalactites.

The Piper led them on, back into a twisting, narrow tunnel, then down a slippery flight of steps. Marianna could hear running water, getting louder and louder—and soon she discovered why. They emerged into an immense cavern, as big as a cathedral, with not one but
two
waterfalls cascading down from the roof.

Marianna's jaw dropped. It was breathtakingly beautiful. The most magical thing she had ever seen in all her eleven years. And just when Marianna thought life could never, ever be better, the Piper made the moment even more wonderful.

He led them
between
the waterfalls. First they had to walk along a thin ridge of rock—slipping and sliding, trying not to fall—then across a low wooden bridge that lay between the twin walls of water.

Marianna paused as she crossed the bridge. Above her rose the waterfalls: thunderous torrents of water that cascaded endlessly from on high. Right beneath her feet was a deep pool. It rumbled and churned, sending up swirling clouds of mist. They hung in the air like ghosts. Trailed their phantom fingers across Marianna's face. Soaked her clothes. Drenched her hair—but she squealed in delight. This was surely Paradise.

When the children reached the far side of the bridge, the Piper led them up another flight of steps to a rocky platform. And there, as they all gazed at the glorious cathedral cave, Greta's brother Fredrik said what everyone was thinking. “Well! Haven't
we
got a tale to tell the folks back home!”

Suddenly the air seemed to shatter around them, as if a diamond had been dropped. The Piper was
laughing
. A strange, eerie laugh that echoed off the cavern walls and fell back down like winter rain.

“My sweet boy,” said the Piper. “You won't be telling anyone
anything
. You won't be going home.”

CHAPTER
FIVE

“What do you mean—we won't be going home?”

It was Marianna who had spoken. Fredrik, like the other children, was too stunned to say a word. But Marianna was quite calm. She hadn't been shocked by the Piper's words. She felt that somewhere, deep down inside, she had known all along.

“Exactly that,” said the Piper. “You won't be going home.”

“Now you just listen to
me
,” said an angry voice. Karl, the mayor's son, was burrowing through the crowd like a bad-tempered mole. “You brought us in here—you'd better take us out!”

The Piper's eyes narrowed as he scanned Karl's face. He knew this boy. No, he knew the boy's
father
. Loud mouths ran in the family, it seemed.

“Take us out!” cried Karl again.

“Ah, but I can't, you see,” said the Piper. “You remember the door that opened? It cannot be reopened for another hundred years. That means nothing to me. But to you . . . Well, you will be dead by the time it opens again.”

A thick silence flooded the cathedral cavern. Suddenly it felt even colder. The little ones hadn't understood what the Piper had said but they could feel that something was wrong. Some started to cry.

The older children looked at each other in horror as the truth sank in. And then came a rumble that grew louder and louder:

“You evil, scheming, devil of a man!”

And Karl threw himself at the Piper, fists curled, eyes bulging, teeth bared.

Voomf !
There was a blinding flash of light—a terrible
thump
—and Karl flew through the air backward, fast as an arrow.
Doom!
He smacked into the cavern wall and slid down into a pool below, a crumpled heap of a boy.

“Dear Lord!” cried Marianna. “You've killed him!” She wanted to run to Karl. Pull him out of the icy water. Save him. But she couldn't. Her legs wouldn't move. Like everyone else, she was frozen in fear.

“I think not,” said the Piper. “I have no desire to kill him. I am simply protecting myself. Come! Our journey continues.” He turned his back on her, put his pipe to his lips, and started to play.

Instantly the cavern was filled with a sweet, haunting tune that made everyone think of summer. Hot days, when the bees drone in the lane and the fish laze in the river. Warm nights under starry skies, with sausages on the bonfire and tales before bedtime. Marianna felt the enchantment wash over her. She covered her ears with her hands. She didn't want to follow the Piper—not now. She wanted to help Karl and then she wanted to go home.

But it was no use. The magical music wormed its way between her fingers. It curled into her ears and sang to her heart. Marianna could feel her eyes glazing over, like ice freezing on a pond. Her feet started to tap in time to the rhythm. She didn't want them to, but she couldn't fight the Piper. His will was too strong. She had to follow.

Marianna glanced at Karl. He was still unconscious, lying in the pool half in and half out of the water. She felt her desire to help him start slipping away. The other children were passing her by, dancing in line like a wriggly caterpillar. Suddenly Marianna feared she would be left behind. She started to panic. Her hands dropped to her sides and she heard the Piper's music ringing round the cathedral cavern. She smiled and started to dance. And when the final child passed by, she slipped onto the end of the line and Karl was forgotten, left behind like a broken toy.

CHAPTER
SIX

An hour passed, maybe more, and still the Piper led the children on. But then Marianna noticed it was becoming brighter and warmer. Lunar blue light was playing on the tunnel walls ahead. The air was softly fragrant.

And soon Marianna found herself outside, staring at a fabulous landscape. The Piper had paused. They were standing on a steep track that clung to the side of a hill.

Marianna gazed at the extraordinary world that lay before her. A majestic moon hung low in the sky, illuminating a lush, fertile land completely enclosed by mountains. Much of it was wooded, but there were settlements here and there, with lights shining like stars. It looked homey and peaceful. Nothing was stirring except for owls, which flew over the treetops on ghostly wings, hunting for prey.

“Where are we?”

Marianna felt a warm hand sliding into her own. It was Greta again. “Are we on the other side of Hamelin Hill?”

“Yes,” said Marianna, “I believe we are. But I don't think this is our world.”

“No,” said Greta. “This is Paradise.”

Marianna smiled, then glanced at the Piper. He was staring at the full moon. And she couldn't be sure, but there seemed to be a new expression on his face. One she hadn't seen before. He looked
anxious.

“Come,” said the Piper, and Marianna heard a strange new urgency in his voice. “Come!”

He started down the path, not bothering to play his pipe, trusting that the children would follow. Wherever he was going, he was in a hurry. There was no time for dancing now.

He led the children down the steep path, faster and faster, not pausing for breath. When they reached the bottom, they followed a goat track until it joined a lane. Here the Piper stepped up the pace until they were storming along. Then he suddenly veered left, onto a path that cut across the fields, and Marianna saw what he was heading for.

There was a standing stone, set high on a mound of earth beside a rushing river. The stone was shining in the moonlight and, as they drew closer, Marianna could see it was carved with peculiar symbols. The Piper began to climb the mound, but it was steeper than it looked. He started to struggle.

Marianna was behind him. She saw him seize his leg about the thigh, as if it were troubling him. Then he cursed and turned, and she saw his face was a mask of pain. But he battled on and eventually reached the top.

Marianna followed and found the Piper more agitated than ever. He was pacing up and down. Glancing at the moon. Urging the children to be quicker. And all the while his dark eyes shimmered like fish scales.

Then there was a flash of fire-gold feathers, and a hawk cut through the shadows and landed on the Piper's shoulder. Did it whisper something in his ear? Marianna couldn't be sure, and it seemed such a silly notion. But she definitely heard the Piper speak.

“Almost there,” he muttered. The hawk seemed to nod.

Finally the last child was up. There was a chorus of coughing and gasping as they tried to catch their breath. The Piper raised his hand for silence, then his musical voice rang out through the night.

“Children of Hamelin,” he said. “This is a very special moment. Everything is special. The time . . . the place . . . the stone.” He elegantly waved his arm; its shadow passed across the stone like a snake. “But the most special thing here is not hard and cold like this stone.” He slapped his hand against the rock. “The most special thing here is a living, breathing creature. At the moment, it doesn't know how special it is. But I do. And it is very,
very
special, believe me.”

The Piper smiled knowingly and went on. “Did you ever wonder why the rats came to your town? I can tell you why. It had nothing to do with the weather or the size of the harvest or plain bad luck. No! Their coming was a sign. They came because they had to. They came because somebody in the town is
special
. Somebody has the most extraordinary magic power—but they don't know it. The power within them has been hidden, unbidden, waiting in the dark like a sleeping dragon. But now it is waking up. The magic is moving, stirring. The rats could feel its energy. They were feeding off it.

“And who, you ask yourselves, is this special person from Hamelin Town? Who has this unbelievable magic power?”

The Piper paused dramatically and raised an eyebrow. He shrugged. “I confess—I don't know who it is. But I
do
know that he—or she—is with us right now.”

Everyone gasped. Eyes widened. Heads turned. Mouths opened.

“And,” said the Piper, “we are about to discover exactly who it is.”

CHAPTER
SEVEN

The Piper glanced at the moon and placed his hand flat against the Standing Stone.

“The land you see around you is called Elvendale,” he said. “It is full of elvish magic, wherever you go. But there are points in the landscape where the power is especially strong. Such points are marked by stones, like this. And when
serious
magic needs to be done, elves—like myself—will choose such a place to do it. And now, what I want
you
to do is this. I want you to come forward, one at a time, and touch the Standing Stone.”

“What will happen?” asked Johann, the butcher's boy.

“Nothing,” said the Piper, “unless you are the One.” He smiled and beckoned Johann closer. “Touch it and see.”

Johann glanced at his friends. They nodded eagerly. Someone prodded him in the back, pushing him forward.