The Silent Piper

Those idiots down in that town thought I would help them and just not bother to pay the bill. Oh, I will show them. I will show them.

The incantation I played as I played my pipe spun benign notes into whatever the youngest of their numbers wanted to hear. A loving father. A kind mother. Or maybe the call of a little girl across the way that they can't even summon the courage to look in the eye.

Perhaps music that is so pure and lovely they can't help but want to go find it. To pay homage to its creator and absorb every note given.

What they want to hear is not important to me. Just that they follow the sound.

The other half of the incantation's effect is much straightforward. The older people have all heard the mellow melody. All their problems forgetting about paying the local lord's tithe or the crops already devoured by the rats I got rid of, or the ongoing sickness I would have driven out for yet another fair fee if only they would stick to their word, all of it washed away like the tides have pulled it into the sea forever.

What else was to be done but sleep in such a tranquil state? A sensation hysterically strange to all but the most privileged and the very most secure of them. And now in their sleep, they were powerless to control what is happening.

But even all the influence and gold in this world could not make one immune to my punishment. I wanted to make sure that I visited my retribution upon the rich and the poor as much as possible, without letting the system that keeps the most vulnerable under wraps, and protects those who pay for their privilege from the worst depravities of this backward kingdom, keep doing its work.

When the time came I swore I would find a quick way to start to use this gift to actually create a difference instead of simply shilling myself out for my craft as a travelling musical mercenary. I simply did not have the time to sit down and figure out how.

As I approached the tree line, I turned around to see the procession of children marching behind me. What a sight it was to have so many children; all those young faces accentuated by the sun beginning to fall on the western horizon, the town already hidden in the valley below me. I blew a few more notes on the pipe, not caring whether the notes had any positive order or semblance; the

The children ceased their seemingly unceasing march around me, no longer commanded to keep being moved forward by the energy of preoccupation but just as, if not more confused where they are, and what they are doing here. Some looked around, some mumbled to themselves, and some just stood and swayed, still effects of the spell, though more removed from it, so any suggestion I gave them (to "keep walking," for example), would have been accepted as gospel.

For it was neither the voice nor song that kept them moving.

Eventually, when a frozen numbness turned my limbs into wood and the sun threw long shadows in my direction, a man in a green cloak walked toward me with the oddest spear - pointed at me.

It was hard to miss the glass lens on top of the spear, similar to a looking glass the vendor from the other world assured me would let me look through into reaches beyond the mortal, but I did not see above me the horrible, tortured mouths laughing back at me as I did once when I stupidly partook in a smoke. Kajeet had to put all his strength to keep me from smashing it.

"Not me," he said to the bear. "TJ is going to shoot this shot. And we then disguise the gunshot wound with another crossbow bolt, which is the result of keeping a sniper aspect a secret from this point forward. That alone disqualifies you from living, friend," he indicated the oozing hole in my body, "because you've experienced it. I can't have you testifying in court."

TJ shook his head. "I think we should call time on this Jason, we are kind of making this a bit of a taunt. It seems a bit unfair."

Jason sighed, "Okay. Let's stop having fun with our food."

The bear raised the crossbow up and pointed the iron tip at my heart.

And true to their word, I didn't experience anything that came next.