Max thought she was dead for sure, but the ogres hesitated. They eyed her. Then, warily, they eyed each other. Like two children who’d discovered a treat fallen on the floor between them, each was waiting for the other to make the first grab. Two enormous girl-eating children.
Max had a crazy idea, and before she could talk herself out of it, she actually turned and backed up toward the first ogre. “Fair’s fair,” she called. “He saw me first!”
The first ogre’s massive brow furrowed in bewilderment, and then he broke out in an evil grin. He thought he was in for a tasty snack without having to work for it. But Max had been counting on the second, larger ogre being just as dumb and twice as greedy. Sure enough, the second creature snarled and barked out something in an ugly guttural language—at least, Max thought it was language—and then he charged.
Max barely avoided getting trampled underfoot as the two monsters began to pummel each other over the right to eat her. She dodged their tree-trunk legs and ran for it. She ran as fast as she could. She left the wrestling ogres well behind her and made for the gate.
It was clear by now that the rats were in full retreat. The two ogres eventually stopped punching each other long enough to see that they were now outnumbered, and then they, too, fled for the forest. A third ogre lay unmoving. Geldorf stood over the body, his nose bloody and several teeth missing, but he was smiling broadly. The trollsons had enjoyed themselves immensely.
Max found Harold at the gate, and he gave her a quick hug. He at least had emerged from the fight more or less unscathed. Max peered through the smoke at the child defenders up on the wall. Far from letting out a cry of victory, they looked haggard and worn, unsure of what to think of their strange saviors. She searched their faces until she found someone she recognized. It was Lukas. When their eyes met, he smiled, but it was a smile full of heartbreak. His dirty cheeks were streaked with tears.
Carter wasn’t there. Max knew her brother, and she knew that no force in existence could have stopped him from joining Lukas on that wall.
But Carter wasn’t there.
Tonight’s winter felt even colder, despite the lack of snow. The previous Winter’s Moon had arrived with a blizzard, but this night was still and dry and brutal. The land lay under a crust of killing frost that glistened in the moonlight, and the frozen grass crunched beneath their boots as Carter and the Piper stepped off the moors where the Peddler’s Road bordered the Deep Forest.
The Piper refused to let them carry their torches any farther. Too many elves about, he warned, even on a true night. Elves did not fear the dark like humans did, nor were they fond of fire, and if Carter and the Piper entered the forest with torches blazing, they would alert every elf for miles. So they paused there at the edge of the trees, and enjoyed the last minutes of their torches’ light and warmth.
They stood at a crossroads, and before them was a gate hung with animal skins and antlers, which barred the road south into the elves’ domain. Bandybulb had told Carter to lead the Piper past the Antler Gate, and this must surely be the one. The roads west and east were not closed, but they were no more inviting. The Peddler’s Road had grown even wilder since Carter had last seen it. How much longer before there wasn’t any trace of it at all?
The Piper stared at the road and wrapped his pied cloak tight around himself. “It’s all happening so fast. I don’t think this winter will be over come dawn.”
“My friends told me that Grannie Yaga killed the Peddler,” said Carter. “Is that why his road is disappearing?”
The Piper nodded. “The road fueled the Peddler’s magic, and in return the Peddler maintained the road. They were connected, and together they kept the evil on the Summer Isle in check.”
Carter mentally added, Evil like you. But even as he thought it, he wasn’t sure he believed it. The Piper was a villain, to be sure, but now that Carter had spent time with him, it became harder to think of him as evil. Misguided, arrogant and dangerous. Insane, maybe. But evil? He wasn’t sure anymore, and that thought alone chilled him more than the winter’s night.
“The Peddler taught me, you know,” said the Piper. “I was his apprentice once, long, long ago. I think I’ll miss him.”
“But you sent Grannie Yaga after him, didn’t you?” asked Carter. “That was the deal, right? She captured me and brought me to the Black Tower, to you, and in exchange you made some kind of deal to help her get the Peddler. You knew that the Peddler would help my friends try and rescue me, and you knew that to do that he’d have to leave the protection of his road.”
“It’s true I lured him into the fight,” said the Piper. “But that doesn’t mean I wanted him to die.”
“What did you think was going to happen?”
“Can you believe I was hoping that he would win? The fight would have given me enough time to escape my prison, and in any case, after battling Grannie Yaga he’d have been too weak to try and stop me. He should have been strong enough to defeat Grannie, though. He would’ve been if he hadn’t also been protecting your friends.”
Incredible as it was, it sounded as if the Piper was blaming Carter’s friends for the Peddler’s death. Carter knew that the Piper and the Peddler had a long history together. That they’d even come to the Summer Isle together. The Piper claimed to have once been the Peddler’s apprentice, but it was the Peddler himself, helped by the Princess of the Elves, who’d locked the Piper away in the Black Tower. That was his punishment for stealing away the children of Hamelin, and the children of the elves. It was hard to believe that the Piper was now grieving over the Peddler’s death.
Though he didn’t talk about it, Carter still believed that the Piper planned to steal the rest of earth’s children away and bring them to the Summer Isle. As insane as it was, the Piper claimed that he was doing them a favor. But Carter knew better. The Piper wanted revenge on a world that had scorned him. Carter had to assume that the Peddler would try to stop him again, if he were alive.
No matter how he felt about it, the Peddler’s death meant there was one less obstacle in the Piper’s way—Carter wouldn’t forget that. Whether he’d intended to or not, the Piper had led the Peddler to his death, which made him culpable. Now the Deep Forest was just on the other side of that gate, and waiting somewhere in those trees were the elves. It might be Carter’s best chance to stop the Piper, but did it also make him culpable for whatever fate lay in store?
Their torches were burning low, and the Piper grew impatient and stamped his out in the frost-covered grass. Carter hesitated, and not just because he feared the dark.
“What’s the matter?” asked the Piper. “Afraid of what might be waiting for you out there at night?”
That wasn’t the only thing Carter was afraid of, but he nodded anyway.
“True nights play with our fears, Carter. That’s true of everyone, but it’s particularly dangerous for a magician. Our imaginations summon some pretty ugly things.” The Piper flicked him on the forehead. “Your own mind works against you.”
“Ow.”
“So don’t let it,” continued the Piper. “Magicians must also be disciplined. If you feel something coming for you out of the dark, push back against it with your willpower. Be stronger than the dark.”
“But what if I’m not? What if I don’t have any willpower? I mean, I always eat dessert, even when I’m so stuffed I’m gonna barf. I can’t help it.”
“Carter, you have to believe in the magic, and in yourself. Belief is the key to a magician’s power. I know what it is to be different. To have people stare at you. To call you names. I know that to survive you have to believe you’re stronger than all of them; it’s the only way to win.”
“I’m not trying to win anything.”
“Of course you are!” said the Piper. “Life is always about winning. You and I have a truce now—I teach you magic, and in exchange you show me where my pipe is hidden. I will hold you to your end of our bargain, but then you’ll be free to do as you like. Of cour
se, I have much more to show you. I promised to make you into a magician, and that’s what I intend to do, as long as you don’t get in my way.”
“And what if I do get in your way?” Carter asked cautiously.
The Piper’s eyes glinted in the moonlight. “Then may the best magician win.”
And just like that the Piper admitted that despite everything they’d been through in the past few days, very little had really changed. Carter had seen glimpses of another side to the Piper, the human part of him, perhaps, and whether Carter believed it or not, the Piper believed they were alike. The Piper had made it hard for Carter to hate him. But the Piper was still set on retrieving his magic pipe, and he assumed that the lure of magic would be enough to make Carter cooperate. The Piper thought Carter wanted to be a magician more than anything, more even than stopping him. Carter had wondered, in his guiltiest moments, if the Piper was right.
The Piper deserved to be locked up; he didn’t deserve to die. But if he succeeded, every child on earth would be in danger. Carter made up his mind. He would do everything he could to keep the Piper alive—beg the elves for his life, if that’s what it took—but he couldn’t let him go free.
“The pipe is in the Deep Forest,” Carter lied. “Past the Antler Gate, we have to follow the road for a while, but it’s not far.”
The Piper cocked his head at him. “You’re sure?”
“Yes,” said Carter. “Roga said so.”
“Then in we go. Stay close to me, and I’ll protect you. If we somehow get separated, remember what I’ve already taught you. Be stronger than you think you are.”
Then he snatched the torch from Carter’s hand and ground it into the frost-covered road, smothering the last of their light. “Let’s go.”
The forest was quiet except for the hunting calls of night birds and the rustling of small animals keen to avoid them. The luminous moon overhead provided light enough to see by as it filtered down through the bare branches, and the thick boughs gave welcome shelter against the howling winter wind. The road inside the forest was not as ruined as it was elsewhere, which was lucky because the ankle-high blanket of fallen leaves would have made sinkholes and tripping vines even more treacherous.
They didn’t talk much, but the Piper hummed quietly under his breath, and Carter found the tune soothing. It didn’t calm him exactly, but he felt the hysterical edge of his fear melt away. He suspected there was some magic at work in the Piper’s little song, but for once Carter didn’t mind being under his spell.
As they walked, Carter’s mind wandered back to the campfire and what he’d done—he’d performed real magic. By leading the Piper into the forest, into the elves’ ambush, Carter was giving up on learning any more. Even if he kept the Piper alive, his dreams of becoming a magician himself would be over. Imagine it—Carter Weber, a magician! What would Max have said? She might have been jealous at first, but she probably would have been relieved not to have to stick up for him. His days of being bullied would be over. And his parents? Carter wondered if there was a spell to make your mom and dad fall in love again.
His thoughts snapped back to the present when he realized the Piper had gone silent. He’d stopped humming.
“Is there something wrong?” asked Carter quietly.
“I don’t know,” said the Piper. “I’m wondering that myself. I mean, we’ve been wandering through these woods for an hour at least and you haven’t said a word about where we’re really going. We’re supposed to be searching for my pipe, but it seems more like you’re waiting for something.”
“What?” asked Carter. “What would I be waiting for? I told you, Roga said that your pipe was here in the forest. I’m just not sure where exactly…”
His words trailed off as he heard an owl hoot somewhere nearby. Three distinct calls.
“What’s the matter?” asked the Piper. “It’s just an owl.”
The owl hooted three more times.
Carter threw himself to the ground just as something whistled over his head, and the Piper let out a cry as an arrow lodged itself deep into his shoulder. All at once the trees came alive with bodies swinging between the branches. Lithe, shadowy shapes leaped from above and landed on the road in front of and behind them. The elves’ eyes shone like the eyes of night predators in the dark.
The Piper fell to one knee and his wounded arm hung uselessly at his side, but with his other hand he lifted his small flute to his lips and managed, with shuddering breaths of pain, to blow a single harsh note.
In answer to the Piper’s call, a sudden torrent of wind tore through the trees, blowing up leaves into a blinding whirlwind and knocking the elf attackers to the ground and the rest from their perches in the trees. And it blew Carter off the road entirely. He tried to stand, but blinded by the flying debris, he stumbled and fell and found himself sliding down a steep embankment. He rolled through the underbrush until he landed roughly at the bottom of a dry creek bed. He was covered head to toe in scratches, but at least he hadn’t broken anything. He figured he must have tumbled thirty or forty feet through brambles and over sharp rocks and hard roots. The distant sounds of battle echoed from the top of the ravine.
Carter pulled himself up to sitting and examined his surroundings. It was darker down here, much darker than up on the road, where the trees were thinner and the moonlight could reach. A few feet away from him, lying on its side across the creek bed, was a toppled, rotted tree. The broken roots reached up like grasping fingers, and in the hollow beneath the trunk was a black patch that not even moonlight could touch.
In an instant, Carter realized he was free of the Piper. The ambush had worked, but he was also alone. He thought about calling out for Leetha. Maybe she was somewhere in the trees nearby. But if so, she was probably deep in battle. Plus, Carter was loath to make any more noise than necessary. Something about that fallen tree and the dark space it sheltered unnerved him.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. He couldn’t let his fears run away with him.
He heard a snapping, like the breaking of twigs. And another. His heart beat even faster against his chest as he peered at the hollow beneath the log. Was there something moving there?
No! he told himself. There’s nothing there. There’s nothing there.
A pale hand, twisted and clawlike, reached out from beneath the tree. A body took shape; a painfully thin creature all covered in rags came crawling out of the darkness.
A gray man.
Carter was lost. No one was here to save him this time, not even the Piper. Carter had seen to that.
He scrambled backward from the creature and tried to get to his feet, but his legs were shaking so badly he could barely stand. He searched frantically in his bag, feeling around for a weapon, anything, but all he could find was his leg brace. It wouldn’t do much harm, being mostly plastic to begin with, but he still brandished it like a club.
The gray man rose to his full height. A spindly demon in the dark, with arms outstretched.
“I’m stronger than you, I’m stronger than you.” Carter repeated the words, but they sounded hollow to his own ears. As the gray man came closer, Carter gripped the brace tightly, until the buckles bit into his palms, just as they’d bit into his leg for all those years. All those years of walking when the other kids ran. All the people staring. All the names. All those years that Carter had survived, thrived, in spite of it all. In spite of the brace. “I’m stronger than you.”
Be stronger than the dark. Carter was holding the reminder of his strength. His armor.
“I’m so much stronger than you!” cried Carter as tears streamed down his face. And he believed it.
Then the gray man was gone.
By the time Carter had climbed out of the ravine, the battle was over. He could see, through the trees, the Piper kneeling, his head bowed in defeat. Elves tended to wounded comrades, and some were not moving at all. Two watched over the Piper with their blades bared. A third, Leetha, stood in front
of him. She was holding her long knives in her hands.
“Piper,” she was saying. “For the crimes you’ve committed against our people, and against this land, and for the death of the Peddler, we sentence you to death.”
The Piper lifted his head, and his hood fell away. But he didn’t look at Leetha; instead, he looked past her into the trees directly at Carter. It was too dark to see the Piper’s face, but Carter could feel those eyes on him.
Bandybulb had warned Carter that the elves might hurt him, too, if they found him with the Piper. At the very least, they would take Carter prisoner for trespassing in their domain. Not even Leetha would be able to protect him from that. The plan had been for him to escape in the chaos of battle. That had been the plan.
Plans had a way of going awry on the Summer Isle.
“Stop!” Carter cried.
The elves whipped their heads around to look at him, and one drew back an arrow and aimed it at his heart.
“No!” said Leetha, and she held up a warning hand. “I know this human boy; he’s the one who led the Piper to us.”
The elf relaxed his bowstring, but he kept the arrow cocked. His eyes were unfriendly, suspicious.
“Carter, you don’t belong here anymore,” said Leetha. “You don’t want to see this.”
“Don’t kill him,” pleaded Carter. “Can’t you just lock him up again?”
“So that he can escape again?” said Leetha. “He must pay for his crimes. Truly pay, once and for all.”
The elf with the bow growled and showed his fangs. “Who is this boy who begs for the Piper’s life? A changeling child?”
“I’m sorry, Carter,” said Leetha. “This has to be.”
The Piper stared at Carter, his face expressionless.
Carter’s hand drifted to his belt, and he found the little pouch of spark powder he’d used to light their campfire. His first magic. The Piper had warned him not to let it touch anything wooden. Gently Carter loosened the drawstring.