Macster - The Last Dragon

Rolling her eyes at this fevered analysis, she forced herself to wrench her thoughts back where they belonged--the present. What was she to do now? Her first instinct was to leave the shoes where they were, or throw them back in the river, and then run away before she could become addicted again. That was the last thing this quest needed. Her second impulse was to grab them, run back to where the Trolls were encamped, and hurl the shoes at them with a shout of "Good riddance!" If they wanted them so badly, they could have them.

But then, as she regained control of her breathing and calmed herself, Virginia considered a new angle. The shoes could be extremely useful, in so many ways. The Second Kingdom and its hostile ruler lay ahead, as did the Sixth Kingdom, the dragon, and ultimately the Ice Queen. Who knew how imperative it might be to have the magic of invisibility to rely upon?

Besides, she wasn't addicted. She wasn't.

Feeling her will crumbling, Virginia slowly knelt once more and pulled the shoes the rest of the way free, washing them clean in the flowing water. Rising woodenly, she was gazing down at them, fingers biting into the jeweled leather, when she heard a distant voice that must have been shouting for some time, judging by its volume.

"Virginia? Virginia!"

It was Wolf.

Turning, she gripped the magic shoes harder, the tingling sensation building up in her palms, spreading through her hands and up her arms, potent and overwhelming after their long dormancy and lack of use. Hurriedly she thrust the shoes into her rucksack, unwilling to reveal their presence yet to Wolf, or deal with what they might mean to her.

She was about to call out and reassure him she was all right when she heard the music.

It was very faint at first, as if coming from a great distance away, but it was growing louder with every moment. The tune was one she had never heard before, yet at the same time it possessed a vague familiarity, as if she had heard it once very long ago, as if she had been hearing it through all her past lifetimes, as if it were an indelible part of who she was. It called to her in a lilting, ethereal, haunting melody, endless arpeggios of notes blending and intertwining, sounding Irish or Scottish at first, then shifting to Asian, then Scandinavian, never staying long in one culture, style, or key. Yet one thing remained constant, that undeniable power that drew her toward it.

Before she was even aware of it, her feet were moving, and she found herself walking along the riverbank, climbing up the slope and proceeding northward at a steady but trembling pace. At some point, the waterbags slipped from her shoulder, falling to the ground, but she paid them no mind. All her attention was focused on that beautiful music, and the longing it stirred to powerful life within her.

After a few miles, she rounded a bend to discover a wooden footbridge across the river, and without hesitation she crossed it, emerging from the forest into the warm spring sunlight. Somewhere in the back of her mind she could hear Wolf's frantic cries, and then a howl splitting the air, but somehow she could not bring herself to acknowledge them. Silent and enthralled, she merely walked on, until she came to a crossroads. To the north and south the rutted tracks of many wagon wheels and the prints of countless boots attested to the amount of traffic this road received, but to the west the road became a narrow track, barely visible through the overgrowth of grass and weeds. And it was in that direction the music called her.

Shuffling across the crossroads, she looked up with disinterest at the wooden arrows of the signpost: to the south lay Beantown, one hundred miles distant, while the northern sign said, HAMELIN 5 MILES. Glancing that way, she could just see a verdant valley between rolling hills, and rising from within it the quaint wood-and-slate buildings of a medieval town, with a church spire or town hall bell tower rising from the center of the village. A memory tickled at the back of her mind, telling her she should be remembering something important, but the music was as compelling as ever, and she shrugged it aside, continuing on.

By the time she reached the foothills and began climbing up into the mountains, Virginia was sweating and panting in the heat of noonday. Wiping her brow, she began muttering and grumbling under her breath, yet she still could not tear herself away from the call. The stubborn and independent streak inside her that had taken over and kept the Lewis household in line and operating smoothly in the years after her mother's disappearance rebelled now. Why should she be following the beckoning call of some invisible musician? She had never listened to anybody before but herself, and Wolf, and her instincts were crying out to her to resist, to turn back.

Virginia halted in place at the base of a ledge winding up into the mountains and tried to retreat, but her feet seemed rooted to the earth, as if grown into it. Gritting her teeth and digging her fingernails into her palms, she struggled again, perspiring heavily, but it was no use. She might as well have her feet sunk in concrete.

Giving up with a whimper of despair, she relaxed...and once again of their own accord, her feet started moving forward, carrying her up the ledge.

After about half an hour of climbing, she reached the crest of the ledge and gazed about in awe. From her vantage point of nearly a hundred feet up, she could see for miles around, and everywhere she looked lay something impressive. To the north she could now see Hamelin from above, looking tiny at this distance; the winding cobblestone streets were packed with villagers on their way to and from eating establishments, as well as horses and carts carrying all sorts of goods to and from the marketplace. Beyond the village, the road continued onward toward a castle--not as large or massive as Wendell's palace, but still quite ornate and beautiful, with white marble walls and countless towers spearing up into the sky, flapping with pennons and flags. To the east lay the extent of the Disenchanted Forest, its canopy resembling green cotton from this height, branches tossing in the wind, creaking and sighing. She could almost imagine the forest was whispering a warning to her, attempting to draw her back from the precipice on which she perched. Since it was alive, that was certainly possible...not that Virginia needed a warning to know she was in danger.

Not that she could do anything about it.

Once more the music directed her steps, tugging her onward as if she were a marionnette on strings. Despite the fear and distress in her heart, the music was light and airy and made her want to dance. She almost skipped along the ledge, mimicking Sally Peep and those stupid shepherdesses as they'd flaunted their legs on the field outside Little Lamb Village. Ahead, the ledge wound around the mountain peak, growing narrower and more treacherous, yet still the music dragged her along in its wake. It was much louder now, and clearer, and she could tentatively identify it as the music of a flute or...a pipe.

Horror filled Virginia as she realized at once where the music must be coming from. Glancing back in the direction of Hamelin, she shivered. But shouldn't the Pied Piper be dead? Unless that hadn't happened two hundred years ago, like all the Grimm fairy tales... She paused, narrowing her eyes--what was that shadow, back there on the ledge? She froze in place, shading her face with her hand, but whatever the shape was, it darted back out of sight--yet she still caught a glimpse of huge, lumbering paws, thick gray fur, and a hulking, muscled body.

Again the music latched onto her soul, making her stumble forward in its haste to drive her on, and she almost toppled from the ledge. Pulling back at the last moment, she bit back a scream and hurried around the bend, as much to get away from her pursuer as to obey the music--only to be confronted by a sheer cliff face! Several hundred yards ahead, the ledge dead-ended, with no offshoots, and no handholds above or below. She was trapped, and whatever was following her would be able to attack her with impunity.

A deep growl echoed along the ledge, and something massive and furred began to pad around the bend...but as Virginia pressed herself against the cliff face, a shudder ran through the mountain. Heart pounding, she jerked away, backing as far as she dared, as a grinding rumble shook the rock. Cracks formed in the cliff, while pebbles and small rocks tumbled down from above. How did things keep getting worse? Now the mountain was collapsing!

But no, she soon discovered she was wrong. Before her astonished eyes a massive crack formed in the cliff, and with a jerk, the two halves of the boulder blocking her path separated, rolling outwards to expose a vast cavern burrowing into the mountain. Virginia hesitated; now she had an escape route from the beast, but she was not certain she wanted to go into a secret cave where unknown dangers waited, or not unknown, if what she suspected was true.

The music gave her no choice. Powerless to do otherwise, she followed the last stretch of ledge, passing between the sections of the cliff face with a shudder as she felt the weight of the mountain settling down all around her. The cavern she entered looked almost man-made, rounded and smooth and free of any stalactites or stalagmites as it extended endlessly into the cold depths of the peak. The only light spilled in from outside--except a small patch of iridescence glowing somewhere ahead.

Despite her misgivings she hurried toward it, toward the source of the music, which was quite loud now and echoing eerily in the enclosed space. Behind her she heard the animal scrabbling around in the cave entrance and she dashed ahead, letting out a small shriek. Hands extended in front of her in case she ran into anything in the dark, she stumbled through the tunnel.

After several terrifying minutes of harrowing flight, Virginia reached another chamber, her heart pounding at a breakneak rhythm. The argent light was quite brilliant here, and as she looked up she saw it was coming from the pipe she had been following--although it more specifically resembled a recorder, the metallic shaft bulging with a fipple and bearing a flared mouth raised high. The shimmering instrument was being played by a handsome young man with auburn hair in a pageboy's cut, dressed in a costume right out of Robin Hood: a tricornered, feathered hat, a leather tunic, leggings, and doeskin boots turned down at the ankles, all dyed in alternating shades of scarlet and gold.

Smiling in delight, the man lowered the pipe from his lips, but it continued to shine and give off a constant, sustained note, locking Virginia's muscles in place so that she could not flee. "Why hello there, milady." His voice was as gentle and lilting as his music. "What a fetching damsel you are! Perfect in every way...my pipe never fails to bring me the very best." His eyes ran up and down her frame, assessing her in a manner Virginia found extremely offensive. "I simply cannot take my eyes off you!"

Finding her voice, Virginia snapped, "Well, you'd better!" She crossed her arms over her chest, blocking his view as she surreptitiously began scanning the cave for any exit other than the way she had entered.

But the Pied Piper pursed his lips and tsked softly, shaking his head. "Now is that any way to speak to your benefactor?"

She frowned, a chill going through her. She remembered the legend of the Piper quite well, and knew that the Piper always expected a reward for his services...and he had not named either service or reward. The fact that he had ensnared her will with his pipe did not bode well at all. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing you can give me that I want."

"On the contrary...I can give you...myself!" He leaped off of the boulder on which he stood and bowed with a flourish. "I am yours to cherish and honor for life."

Virginia had backed away as he jumped down toward her, but now she froze in mid-step. "What do you mean?" she demanded, although she had a sinking suspicion what was on his mind.

"Why, it is quite simple, really...I shall be your husband, and you shall be my wife, of course." A suggestive wink accompanied his words.

"No!" The cry burst from her lips instinctively, and she threw up her hands to ward him away. "There's no way I'll marry you!"

The Piper chuckled, raising one eyebrow in a humorous expression. "The sweetest ladies always play hard to get, I see...lovely maiden, I must disagree with you. Marriage is your fate, and I assure you it is a most pleasant one. I shall shower you with every finery and comfort you can imagine, as well as my undying love. You shall have a castle, gowns, balls, ladies-in-waiting, whatever your heart desires." His azure eyes burned with an earnest devotion, nigh on worship, as he gazed up at her.

Virginia put a hand to her brow, rubbing it in frustration. How was she to get out of this one? "What my heart desires is my freedom."

Blinking in confusion, the Piper sighed and reached out for her hand. "My dear, there is nothing to fear. I know this is rather sudden, and unexpected, and that the manner in which you came here was unusual to say the least, but believe me when I say you shall look back on this day with fondness, as the romantic beginning of a wonderful relationship."

"Romantic?" Virginia cried incredulously. She jerked her hand away. "You call this romantic? I call it coercion. And anyway, it doesn't matter, mister, because I've already got a husband, thank you very much." Of course she and Wolf weren't married yet, but they would be soon, and none of this was the Piper's business.

Disbelief was etched in his young face, and for a moment his mouth worked without producing any sounds. Then he recovered his composure and cast on her a condescending look. "I'm afraid that's impossible. The spell is faultless, my pipe cannot fail to bring me my perfect mate."

"I don't care if it's impossible, it happened. I'm in love, married, and I won't be your wife." Virginia glared at him in finality, one hand reaching back over her shoulder to dig inside her rucksack for the magic shoes.

The Piper's face hardened, his eyes the hue of a churning sea under a stormy sky, filled with desperation. He snatched her hand and pulled her close, jaw quivering. "You have no choice..." Then, keeping his eyes fixed on hers, he lifted his pipe, which had begun to glow brighter, to his lips...