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

Part I - Chapter XV: Vengeance & Vows

Half of my soul has been ripped out and fed to the dogs.

 

Lorelle is gone.

 

And someone has to pay the price.

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It was his third time in London within the last week. But this time around, no hope warmed Eugene’s chest and kept him walking with his back straight and his eyes ahead. Hatred did that for him.

Despite the city being empty of rats and the spread of the plague having been eliminated, the streets were still as silent as they had been the first two times around. At first Eugene thought that Kislingbury's men had failed to let the uninfected citizens know that the threat was under control.

Wood slammed against stone. Eugene looked up. A window had been closed. A rusty bolt locked. They were hiding from him.

Eugene chuckled darkly. Smart humans.

He picked up his pace and soon he had arrived in the square. A worn burlap sack just large enough to hold a pewter bowl blew across the courtyard. Eugene looked up at the councillors building. It was less imposing than in had been the last few times he had seen it. Before, it had been cold and large, a stone giant ready and able to crush any who dared threaten it or its inhabitants. Its cracked stone no longer spoke of ancient and majestic times. Now, it simply looked weak, old, and ready to be torn down.

Eugene continued across the square. His boots, caked with dirt and mud and dust barely made a sound on the stone. As he neared the building, something burned at his side. He winced and snatched it out of his coat. The flute. It was still there. After finishing the task, he had completely forgotten about it. Heat pulsed through the wood, a heartbeat.

Eugene stuffed it back into his coat. Perhaps it would be of some use to him. It did after all have much power in its core.

He walked straight up to the doors and without a moment of hesitation, blasted them from their hinges. The wood flew back into the hall. Dust covered the ground.

“Hey! What do you think you are doing?” Roddendale’s pretentious voice called out from the dark of the passage way. “What have you done?”

The man rushed forward. With a single flick of the wrist, he was sent flying back crashing into a wall. His limbs stuck and his back fastened to the wood as if he had been tied with rope. He hung above the ground, pressed firmly against the wall.

“What do you think you are doing?” he said again struggling against his magical bonds.

Eugene ignored him and continued past towards the door of the meeting chamber.

“You won’t get away with this!” Roddendale roared, but his voice was drowned out by the explosion of the chamber doors as they burst into hundreds of pieces and flew into the meeting room.

The entire council was there. Perfect.

Eugene strode into the room and walked straight up to Kislingbury.