26. The Whistler
At the crack of dawn, Jack was passing through the woods. He had taken the assignment of finding the flute, and he knew that the paths of Mysterious Forest, which had the ability to confuse and cheat time, led to the old villages from the ancient legends, and that the Pied Piper might be in one of them. Being a half-witch, he only had to keep in mind where he wanted to go, and the road that led to the north, would eventually take him to the desired destination.
Jack heard footsteps. He was sure he’d been alone on the path. He had refused Hector’s help and told him to get the candle, and Eric was supposed to find the flea box. Jack looked around. The depths of the forest were ominous and had secrets hidden under each tree and danger lurking behind each bush. He hid behind a tree and squeezed the hilt of his dagger. The steps came closer, then a figure passed near Jack’s tree. He looked at her back and sighed.
“Ariadne!”
The girl started and turned around.
“What are you doing here? I almost pounced on you.” Jack put the dagger back inside the scabbard.
“I decided to come with you.”
“You shouldn’t have done that. This is dangerous. I told you to help the girls.”
“Hector and Eric will help them. I’d better help you.”
“I don’t need help. Go back.”
“No way. I can’t leave you alone. I am coming with you.” She stood in Jack’s way and didn’t move.
“Sometimes you remind me of my sisters. Why are the girls of Hollow so unreasonable and stubborn?” Jack walked down the path, and Ariadne followed him.
“It’s not about reason. I just fear for you.”
Jack didn’t answer. He had to go far into the forest; the path was going to be a long one, and he was glad he wasn’t alone.
The road that Jack and Ariadne had taken seemed endless. They had been going for three hours, with temporary lulls when Ariadne got tired and asked for rest, and still hadn’t got out of the woods. When the fourth hour started, Jack spotted smoke above the trees. They reached the edge of the forest and looked over the village spreading on the other side of the river.
“Is that the Sirtalion?” Ariadne asked.
“I guess so.”
“If we pass it here, we’ll get into another time, right?”
“We’re already in another time. Don’t you see that this is not a modern village? Let’s go.” Jack took her by the hand and crossed the wooden bridge.
The village was small, teemed with bricked houses and barns. The pieces of land around the houses were separated with wooden fences. Fruit trees, carrots, and radishes grew in the gardens and orchards in front of the houses. The village seemed calm, but Jack could sense that something was wrong—it was too quiet. All the doors and windows were shut. Every time Jack would see someone looking out the window, they would close the shutters without giving him time to ask anything.
“What is going on here?” Ariadne asked.
“I’m afraid we’ve reached the village too late. He has been here already.”
“The Whistler?”
“Yes. We not only have to steal the flute, but now we have something else to do.”
An old man was sitting on a stump near one of the houses and crying.
“What’s the matter?” Ariadne asked, putting her hand over his shoulder. The old man looked up at her.
“He took them all.”
“Them?”
“The children. He took all our children.”
“Oh.” She looked at Jack, then back at the old man. “Don’t cry. We have come to help.”
“What can you do, child? He took our children because we didn’t pay him enough. And now he is going to send the rats into our village. Those monsters will destroy us, they will kill us all, and they have probably killed our children.”
Ariadne was trying to console the old man, but he kept crying and mumbling about the revenge of the Whistler.
Jack knelt before him. “Tell us what happened.”
“Our village was attacked by rats,” the old man began his tale. “We hired the Pied Piper to get rid of those disgusting creatures. They were everywhere! The Piper cleaned the village from those stinky rats, but then our mayor thought his price was too high and paid him less than we had promised. Silly, silly man. I heard the Piper swearing revenge. Then he came to the village while we all were working in the fields, and took our children away. My grandchildren, too.” He burst into sobs.
“Tell me, where is his lair? Do you know where the Whistler lives?”
The old man shook his head. “Somewhere in the cave behind the hills.”
Jack stood up and took Ariadne by the hand. “We have to hurry,” he said. “We have to find them before the rats attack the village.”
“I don’t understand,” Ariadne said as they moved to the hills. “How could a piper take all the children away? Why did they go with him?”
“He has a magic flute. He uses it to lure the rats that follow the enchanting tune whenever they hear it. This time he lured the children the same way, and now his rats are going to attack the village.”
“His rats?”
“They obey him whenever he plays the flute.”
“But can’t the villagers fight back the rats and free the children?”
“These are no ordinary rats. I hope we won’t have to meet them. If we manage to find the piper’s cave, we shall free the children and steal his flute. Then he may not hurt us. But if he plays the flute we’re doomed.”
Ariadne shuddered.
“I knew I shouldn’t have taken you with me.”
“I’m not afraid.”
“You’re trembling.”
“Alright, I am afraid. But it doesn’t matter. I wanted to come with you.”
“Thank you,” he said, smiling.
They climbed up the hills and looked around. The village stood on a broad strath, quiet and empty. The houses were trapped inside the hills from one side, and the forest from the other. The river was snaking through the hills and disappearing into the depths of the forest. Jack tried to memorize the landscape. The sun was already setting, and he hurried down by the slope of the hill.
“Where are we going?” Ariadne asked.
“To the cave.”
“How do you know where it is?”
“Look under your feet.”
Ariadne didn’t notice anything at first, but after looking more precisely, she saw traces on the ground, stomped grass and flowers.
“They passed this way. I noted from the hill that this road leads to a dark spot. Should be the cave. There won’t be any other place to hide the children. We know where the children are—that’s the good news. The sun is setting—that’s the bad news.”
“Will they attack the village at night?”
“I think so. That means we still have time. The Whistler and his rats have to be asleep now. They will wake up at night. If we get the flute, he’ll be helpless. If he plays it before we escape, the rats will tear us apart.”
“I hate rats,” Ariadne whispered. “But I think I can run fast enough to escape from them.”
She doesn’t know, Jack thought. She had no idea what rats he was talking about, and he decided to keep quiet. Ignorance is bliss, he thought, she’ll remain calm until she sees one of them.
The entrance of the cave was a round hole overgrown with leaves, and so black that even the last rays of the sun didn’t penetrate it.
“No sound,” Jack warned Ariadne. She nodded in response, scared to make a sound. He took her hand, mouthed, “Let’s go,” and they stepped into the darkness.
Ariadne couldn’t see anything. She didn’t make a sound. The only thing she was capable of doing was squeezing Jack’s hand and walking next to him. She quivered at the thought of the rats lurking in the darkness, fearing she might stomp on those disgusting animals and feel their soft bodies under her feet.
The cave smelled odious. The stench was of litter, offal, and corpses. Ariadne wa
s barely fighting back the sickness. Once she gagged when the stink of rotten flesh and garbage hit her face. Jack’s hand around her waist gave her the strength to keep going.
Their eyes adjusted to the darkness, and soon both could distinguish the walls of the cave and the massive rocks under them. Jack dragged Ariadne closer to him. She didn’t know why he hugged her tighter, but she felt calmer in his embrace. The warmth of his body was soothing, and his scent, though faint, helped her fight back the sickness.
Ariadne stomped on something in the dark. It was thick and slithered like a snake from under her foot. One of the rocks moved, raised its head, and stared at her. She would have shrieked, but Jack’s palm shut her mouth. She felt his breath on her neck, his lips near her ear, reminding her that he was with her. But he couldn’t calm her when a gigantic head was right in front of her face, so close that the whiskers tickled her forehead. Jack put his other palm over her eyes, leading her through the cave. Her eyes were closed, but his were open, and he saw the giant rats under the walls, resting and getting ready for an attack on the village.
Now he wasn’t thinking of the flute, but of the children that might be somewhere in the cave, and who would become food for the rats if they didn’t hurry. He heard snores coming from somewhere in the cave. A dim light flickered in the dark. Jack peeped into the room where the Whistler was sleeping. The candlelight trembled with every snore that was coming out of his mouth. The sleeping man was thin and tall, with wrinkly hands and black bags under his eyes. He wasn’t young, and he wasn’t old. He was ageless, his snoring loud and chilling, echoing in the cave.
Jack looked around the hazy room. It was almost empty: no furniture, no windows, only a bed with the sleeping piper, a bedside table with the burning candle and the piper’s pied hat on it.
Ariadne opened her eyes and squeezed Jack’s wrist. He put his finger to her lips. She nodded, and Jack moved forward. The cave was branching into three corridors, and they strode across the central one, which was less dark than the other two. As they reached another room Ariadne gasped. Nearly thirty children were lying behind the prison bars, cuddled up to each other. A torch was burning on the wall, its light almost faded. Jack tiptoed to the prison bars, stretched his hand into the cage and petted one of the children. The boy of about ten opened his eyes and jumped back. Jack put his finger on his lips, and the boy nodded.
“We’ve come to help you,” Jack whispered. The boy nodded again and woke up the girl nearby. One after the other the children opened their eyes and stared at Jack and Ariadne. They all were pale, dirty, and scared, looking at the unknown couple with hope and pleading. Jack examined the padlock, then unlocked it with his picklock. The children hurried to the exit, but he stopped them.
“Don’t come out yet,” he whispered. “Do you know where the exit is?”
The boy who had woken up the first shook his head. The others copied him.
“Then wait here. I need to find the exit.” Jack turned to Ariadne. “We can’t go the same way. A rat has blocked the entrance. Stay with the children. I’ll look for another exit.”
She clung to him, shaking. “Don’t leave us here.”
“We have to save these children. We have to get the flute. Please stay calm. I promise we’ll get out of this cave.” He took Ariadne into his arms. “I know you’re scared. I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”
“You didn’t drag me. It was my decision.”
“Thank you for coming with me. Now stay with the children. Don’t let them come out of the cage yet. I’ll be back soon.”
Ariadne leaned against the bars and stared at the fading fire.
“He said that the rats will wake up late at night,” said the boy.
Ariadne patted his head. “What’s your name?”
“Hans.”
“Don’t worry, Hans. Jack will get us out of here.” She forced a smile to calm the children and give them hope. None of them knew how much time had passed. Each second seemed an hour, each minute an eternity. Small rats scurried across the corridor. The big ones were still asleep, but the waking hour was approaching.
Jack peered into the prison. “I found an exit,” he whispered. “It’s down the corridor. Don’t enter any other room. After five minutes you will feel the fresh air. There’s a path that leads to the bridge. Ariadne, you’ll take the children to the village.”
“Aren’t you coming with us?”
“I have to get the flute.”
“Oh, Jack, please, come with us.”
“We need the flute. That’s why we came here. I’ll get it, and you will take the children to their home.” Jack handed her a long stick. “Take this.”
Ariadne took the stick and watched Jack disappear in the corridor again. She turned to the bars. “Children, listen to me. We all shall get out of here, but we have to be very careful and keep quiet. Understood?”
The children nodded.
“Now you shall come out one by one and then will follow me through the cave. But before we start, let me count you.”
While Ariadne was counting the children, Jack entered the Whistler’s room, stepping carefully over the rat that was sleeping at the entrance. Making sure that the Whistler was sleeping, Jack stretched his hand to the bedside table, where, under the pied hat, the flute was resting. He had almost reached it, when a female shriek echoed in the cave. The Whistler opened his eyes and pounced on Jack. Screaming like a madman, he squeezed Jack’s throat and aimed his crooked teeth at his artery. Jack shoved his hand into the Whistler’s face, and the rat-man plunged his teeth into the fellow’s palm.
The dog-sized rats gathered before the entrance, watching the Whistler and Jack fight for the flute. Soon the biggest ones would come, and without the flute both of the fighters would be nothing but food for them. The rats growled and snarled, and the Whistler roared along, his sharp teeth scratching Jack’s neck, searching for the vein.
Ariadne shrieked again, fighting a rat with the stick. Hans opened the cage door, and she jumped inside, shutting it a second before the rat leaped in. Another two rats pounced on the cage, hitting their shaggy bodies against the bars, scratching the iron with their claws, sometimes getting into fights with each other.
“To the wall!” Ariadne yelled. “Stand against the wall and don’t move!”
She hit the rats through the bars to make them retreat, but her blows only infuriated the beasts and made them growl louder.
Then a gentle tune filled the corridor. The Whistler played his flute, and the rats froze in front of the prison bars. One by one they turned around and marched into the corridor. Ariadne didn’t hurry to open the cage, but the tune was coming closer, the fire was almost gone, and she had to get the children out. As she dared a peek into the corridor, the color left her face. A tall figure was sauntering backwards to the prison, and the enchanting tune was beckoning the rats after him. Slowly, he reached the prison and under the fading fire she saw his face.
“Jack!” She sighed with relief. “Thank heavens.”
Jack stopped by the prison and continued to play the flute, keeping the charmed rats in order.
“Hans,” Ariadne called the boy. “Hurry up, we’re leaving.”
She told the children to hold hands and follow her. Grabbing the torch from the wall, Ariadne dashed down the corridor. The exit was illumined with dim moonlight, and the cave’s stink was fading away.
Ariadne stood by the exit and began counting the children. When the twenty-sixth child came out of the cave, she let out a sigh of relief.
“We have to go back to the village,” she told them.
“I know the road,” Hans said. “Follow me.”
The children hurried down the hill and ran along the river.
“Faster!” Ariadne was yelling, holding the smallest child in her arms. “Faster, children! In a group, all in a group!”
Their village was on the other side of the river. Ariadne told the children to cross the bridge while she stood at its edge and
again began counting them. “One, two, three… Seven, eight, nine,” she was saying, watching the children dart before her eyes. “Twenty-five.” She looked around in agitation. “Twenty-five! Where is the last one?”
“She’s in your hands,” Hans yelled from the bridge.
“Ohh,” Ariadne groaned. “Hans, tell everyone in the village to lock the doors and not to come out. Take her.” She put the little girl into Hans’s hands. “You can make it now. I have to help Jack.”
“Look there!” Hans pointed to the hills. “He’s taking them to the water.”
Ariadne saw Jack playing the flute and luring the rats into the water of the river. He was walking backwards, and a row of gigantic rats was following him through the darkness, obeying the hypnotizing tunes of the magic flute. Jack entered the black river, and the rats, one by one, followed him.
“He will drown the rats in the river. But he’ll drown with them.” Ariadne’s voice trembled.
“There’s a raft under the bridge,” Hans said.
Ariadne looked under the bridge and saw the raft with an oar. “Run home, Hans,” she said, stroking the children's heads.
“Good luck!” Hans hurried to the village, holding the little girl in his hands.
Ariadne climbed on the raft and began oaring down the river. “Jack,” she called. “Jack, over here! Come to my voice.”
He heard her but couldn’t answer. Stopping the music meant being torn apart by the rats the same way the Whistler had been killed the moment he dropped the flute and Jack picked it up. Ariadne reached Jack when he was inside the water up to his neck. The rats were still following the magic flute. The smaller ones had drowned, but those that were bigger had managed to keep their snouts above the surface of the river, staring at the flute and the piper that was leading them to their deaths.
“Get on the raft,” Ariadne said.
Jack crawled onto the raft, letting the flute down for just a second, but it was enough to create disarray inside the line. The rats hissed and pounced forward, but Jack managed to take the flute back to his lips. Under the rays of the silver moon, the lonely raft with two passengers floated across the river, luring the beasts deeper into the water. When the last snout disappeared, Jack put the flute down and turned to Ariadne. “How are you?”
“Better.”
“You did a smart thing with the raft.”
“And you saved us all.”
Ariadne settled in the center of the raft and took Jack’s hand in hers. “Your hand is seriously injured,” she said. “How could you play with such a deep wound?”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
The raft glided down the river, taking them back into the forest. Jack gave the flute to Ariadne, grabbed the oar and began rowing.
“It’s time to go back to Hollow.”