The Magician's Vow: A Retelling of The Pied Piper of Hamelin

Part I - Chapter I: Still & Silent

The illness still grips Lorelle like a python does its prey. It does not weaken despite my best efforts. It is almost as if it is familiar with my magic and has become immune to it. I have been searching for months for a potion that will cure my wife. Many I have tried but even the best has done nothing. 

I have spent almost all our coin on ingredients and maps and recipes, yet it has been all for naught. I was a fool, believing this to be a simple illness, one that could be easily cured with little money spent,  little time dispensed. My foolishness could very well cost Lorelle her life. I should not have trifled with weak potions, weak recipes, those that did not completely guarantee her survival.

Now, I have only an ancient tome to go on. Father left it for me before he passed. Its spells are weak and simple, but perhaps old enough to be of some use. The ingredients in the olden days were common enough; I might not have to purchase anything more. Even if I do, though, I will be unable to. I barely have enough coin for food. I refuse to debase myself into a common thief. I will not lower myself to a commoner’s means. 

This tome has to be the answer. I have nothing else to do. Nowhere else to turn. If this does not work, Lorelle is dead. And then, so am I. 

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Year 1350

The night was still. Too still. The night was silent. Too silent. 

In the midst of the terror and sadness cloaking the land, wails and cries of pain should have been rising out of the town and from London which could be seen only a few miles away. But no, the world was quiet, its voice having been quelled by two years of mind-numbing suffering. 

The wind blew strongly, rustling the branches of the old oaks lining the dirt road that traveled through the ancient but modest town of Antvrae. Even through the darkness of the night, thick dark clouds could be seen rumbling together, announcing the impending storm. 

At the farthest point west of the little town stood a charming little house. Simply built, it had walls of stone and a thatched roof. The single doored, two windowed home was accompanied by a large willow before it, blocking it from any curious, prying eyes of those traveling along the road. Another willow tree was located to the left of the house, hiding a second building. The shed stood firm despite its apparent age and use. The wooden boards that made up the walls were worn and small etchings decorated the wall facing the home.

The extensive collection of candles dispersed across the inside of the small building was the only brightness amidst the dark, unassuming town. From inside the miniature building, dancing light hinted at movements and a shadow flickered through the matted glass windows as the inhabitant of the building paced back and forth.

The shadow finally stopped and sat down at his desk. Picking up a quill pen, he began to write a quick sentence in a journal before getting back to his feet and reaching for a large, leather-bound book resting on the aged bookshelf to his left. 

Laying it gently on his desk, the man blew on the cover of the book, sending a cloud of dust spiraling into the air. 

A few coughs and a sneeze later, the dust settled and the man opened the tome and rifled through it, obviously on a search for something. He leaned over the bulky book which was filled with a strange markings. Apparently knowledgeable in the odd language, the man flipped over page after page. His black, curling hair - in desperate need of a trim - covered the lines of worry etched on his forehead. His sage green eyes were filled with desperation and anxiety. 

A cry of delight erupted from the man and with renewed vigor he began to translate the ancient recipe he had found into his journal. As the quill clenched in his hand flew over the paper, the deep furrow in his brows eased up. Once finished, he dropped his quill back into the ink pot and stared down at what he had inscribed into the little book. His eyes danced with excitement and a smile of glee melded onto his face.