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

Part I - Chapter VI: Inspection & Information

All the hopelessness of earlier has almost drained from my body. There is hope... An actual physical possible hope of Lorelle’s recovery. In less than two days, I will have the recipe in my hands and I’ll be able to create the one potion strong enough to cure her. And then life will go back to the way it was: peaceful and quiet. The smell of death in the house will be gone, and Lorelle will be herself again, always smiling and with a laugh ready at the back of her throat. 

I’ve waited so long for this opportunity. I’ve had to endure watching others around die only days after being infected. The only reason Lorelle is still alive is the spell I managed to cast on her that slowed down the symptoms of the illness. But that spell is weakening and I cannot do it again. A second attempt would kill her. For weeks she has been bedridden. It is time for her to get to her feet.

And yet, even though it seems like the path is clear, I am a little uncertain whether or not this will actually happen. Yes, everything is lined up to work out, but I cannot help but get a feeling that something will happen... Something always happens. 

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The room’s window looked out over the western end of London, a sea of grey and brown buildings that ended abruptly a mile away. Then it was dark green fields, dreary from the rain that had been falling every night for the past couple of weeks. The sun half way to the horizon: evening was quickly approaching.

A little sparrow glided down and landed on the window’s sill, it’s brown and white body twitching as it bounced closer to the inside. Eugene stretched out a finger and gently caressed the soft downy feathers along the little bird’s back. It chirped and leaned into the petting. 

“Scient verba mea,” Eugene said. Instantly, the bird’s eyes fixed upon him and held a kind of understanding that was unnatural in a bird. Eugene held out a little scroll, no longer than his little finger. “Take this to Lorelle, at the little house on the western end of Antvrae.”

The bird looked up at him with small button-like black eyes. It placed a short spindly leg on the magician’s arm before snatching the scroll into its mouth and jumping out of the window. 

The door slammed open and Eugene spun around. Two guards stood just outside in the stone stairwell. “Your...er, guest has arrived,” the first man said, glancing at his companion uncomfortably. “He will come up the stairs when we have left.”

“That’ll do,” Eugene told them, turning back to the window in time to see the little bird’s body disappear into the ocean of buildings. 

The two guards stood there for a few more moments, shuffling their feet and expecting the man to say more. When he was just as silent as they, they closed the door and left, their footsteps echoing throughout the stairwell and reverberating beneath the room. 

Eugene leaned on the window’s sill, looking out over the city. With the buildings a dark grey and the world silent, it was almost like a graveyard. But that is what it had become: a cemetery of thousands. 

The wind had picked up a little and a sharp cold blew into the room, snaking through Eugene’s hair and picking it up from over his eyes. It stung his eyes and pulled at his shirt, almost as if it was a child, beckoning him to come and play.