CHAPTER EIGHT- THE PIPER AND THE RIGHTFUL HEIR
"Key… heal," Thursday murmured, raising his misshapen hand to lift the sword. It had shrunken into a small, near-weightless dagger that was easy for him to wield in his current state. It glowed brightly for a moment, and the music wavered as the Piper stopped to observe the goings-on.
"Why are you so hurt?" Arthur asked. "I thought the Key would protect you from harm."
"Nothing… is always touchy," Thursday replied, groaning a bit as a soft shine enveloped his body, and Arthur made a face as he saw the skin stitch itself back together. "The Key did protect me, to a very large degree. That should've killed me, or returned me to the Void, which is the…"
"Same thing," Arthur finished.
The music resumed, and Arthur cocked his head to the side, listening. It was the most ethereal, beautiful melody he had ever heard, alluring harmonies somehow woven into the threads of sound. It made him want to laugh and cry and dance and collapse all at once, and it put a smile on his face. "This is so nice," he breathed.
Thursday frowned, standing and wiping some blood away from his face. The wounds were healed now, thanks to the Key, but it hadn't bothered cleaning away the bloodstains. "The Piper…"
Arthur's smile melted into oblivion. He recognized the look that was crawling over Thursday, the posture that his body was straightening into. It was the rage that had possessed him before, and there was no one there to stop the Day from falling into his frenzy. As if it too understood the anger radiating out of the Trustee, the Key elongated back into its long, heavy broadsword form, the glint of the moonlight making it seem very, very sharp indeed.
"Traitors…" he hissed.
Arthur looked around. All of the Piper's Children were frozen, as if time had stopped ticking for them. Suzy was still clutching her shoulder with a look of concern, Sable and Jazebeth's mouths were stuck in a twisted scream of agony, and Quicksilver was cemented in the act of tying a bandage around her left arm, an end of it still between her teeth.
"Traitors, all of them," Thursday continued. "All I asked… though I suppose I accomplished my mission in the end. Lieutenant, I'll take half. You take those on the right."
"Er, take them, sir?" Arthur asked, hand tightening around the hilt of his tulwar. His face stung badly, and a wind was blowing over the raw skin. He almost wanted to ask Thursday to use the Key to heal him too, but then remembered that would contaminate him, take him farther from the humanity he so desired.
Dame Primus was right, Arthur thought sourly. She said it was a weakness, and now Saturday's exploiting it. I hope she doesn't hurt my family now that I've destroyed the Spirit Eater. What if she kills them?
"Execute them, of course," Thursday growled, pulling Arthur out of his thoughts.
"Execute them?" he cried.
"The Piper would use them as additions to his troops, as our enemies. They are no longer allies, and no longer your friends. They are slaves to the Pipe."
Suddenly, the gorgeous music sounded like the ugliest, strident grackle-squawk that ever attacked Arthur's ears, and it filled him with rage as well, but for an entirely different reason.
Thursday strode to Gluepot and, with a guttural yell, hacked off the boy's head.
Arthur closed his eyes at the last second, opening them quickly again as Thursday turned to attack Quicksilver.
"Stop!" he shouted, and flung himself at Thursday's sleeve. The Day snarled and batted him away as if he were a fly. Arthur landed on his back, the wind knocked out of him, and he sat up, coughing for air. It passed quickly, however, and much faster than it would've in the Realms, where his asthma would have made it far more difficult. He scrambled to his feet, and dashed between the Key and Quicksilver.
"Stop it, sir!" Arthur yelled.
"Get out of the way," Thursday ordered through gritted teeth.
"No."
"You are disobeying a direct order."
"No!"
Arthur! It's me, the Will! Get Thursday angry, and I'll help you. It will distract him, it-
"MOVE, fool!"
"No! That is not a proper order, sir!" Arthur shouted back, as loudly as he could.
The music lulled again, and the Piper's Children all collapsed, as if under a spell of deep sleep. Arthur and Thursday turned to look at the lone caped figure, clapping. The sound was slightly muffled since he was still holding his Pipe, but it was clearly condescending, and it infuriated both of them.
"What a splendid farce," the Piper said. His long, black hair fell into his face and into his eyes, though Arthur saw only pits of darkness behind the holes of the mask, not a sign of color or life. The mask was a brilliant silver and gold, mixed into an intricate gilded pattern that rivaled the work of Grim Tuesday, and his red cape was a sanguine hue of fresh mortal blood, which was, to Arthur, slightly disturbing. "Trying to save your comrades. How honorable."
"Not that you would know anything of honor," Thursday snarled.
"I am not speaking to you, toy soldier," the Piper said coolly. "Arthur Penhaligon, is it? I have heard talk of you. You are the Rightful Heir, are you not?"
"Er, yes. Why? Is this a trick question?"
"Actually, yes," the Piper replied. "I am the Architect's son, and thus Her true Heir."
"Don't make me laugh!" Thursday said. "You? If being Her son was all that mattered, it'd be Sunday. He's the oldest, after all. Someone upset the Will skipped over them?"
"It did not, as you put it, skip over me," the Piper retorted. "I am the Rightful Heir it speaks of! Look at the soldiers I have created, just like the mortals She brought about. You Denizens have never come close to creating such life. I rival Her in creativity, in style, and in elegance."
"Then you're blind," Thursday said, "and clearly haven't taken a good look at your troops."
"My quarrel is not with you, Denizen. Arthur, give me the Keys now, and I shall let you live."
"I don't have them with me," Arthur admitted. "Dame Primus- that is, the Will, Parts One through Three- is my Steward."
"But surely that is simply a matter of paperwork, to transfer the Keys to me," the Piper shrugged.
Arthur opened his mouth, then shut it. It was tempting, he had to admit. The Piper wasn't as corrupt as the Trustees, and that would allow him to go home. Someone else could get rid of the Morrow Days, and the House and its mismanagement for millennia could be someone else's problem. He'd go home, still more human than Denizen.
But that's just like giving in to Saturday, Arthur thought, and I don't know if he'll do any better than her and Lord Sunday. For all I know, he'd be WORSE than the Morrow Days.
"Would you fix the problems of the House?" Arthur asked.
"You can't be contemplating this!" Thursday exclaimed.
"I would rule as I see fit," the Piper sniffed, ignoring him.
"And you won't interfere in the Realms?"
"Ah, interference." The Piper chuckled. "Funny little fact- my mother the Architect did interfere. Quite often, actually. Her only issue was if someone else did. So as she did, so shall I."
"Interference is not interference when it's the Architect," growled Thursday.
"Oh, how quick you are to defend Her. Were you this quick to attack Her Will?" the Piper shot back. "I am Her son. It is not interference if I commit it as well. So as she did, so shall I."
"So, yes," Arthur clarified.
"Basically, I'll do what I feel like," the Piper said, "as I wish in the House and the Realms."
"So you don't care about humans or Denizens or the Original Law," Arthur said.
"No more than anyone else around here," the Piper shrugged, "and unlike them, I'm actually honest about it. That counts as a bonus, don't you think?"
"No, it doesn't!" Arthur exclaimed. "I'm sorry, but I can't give you the Keys, though I would be honored to fight alongside you. If you have a problem with Lord Sunday or Superior Saturday…"
The Piper nodded, as if expecting this response all along. "A pity. Ah, well. I shall play at your funeral, Arthur, to commend your bravery, foolish it may be. You deserve no less. It'd be much more than what I'd do for the Trustees, if I even allow them funerals at all."
The Piper smoothly drew a slender rapier that had been resting against his hip. He turned it, twisting the blade so that the moonlight was caught and gleamed against the tempered steel. It was transfixing, hypnotizing.
The Piper darted forward, arm snapping the blade straight at Arthur.
Arthur ducked with a yelp, turning and shifting his weight to avoid the deadly length of sharpened metal. The sword grazed the cheek opposite his Nothing-wounded one, painting a thin line of blood on the canvas of his skin.
His face hurting, Arthur drew his lightning-charged tulwar and lifted his buckler in a defensive maneuver. The Piper struck again, and Arthur's sword came hurtling to meet it, crackling with electricity and heat. A deafening screech of metal on metal, steel scraping against steel with a low rumbling of thunder, rang in the air as the two combatants were poised in a lethal waltz, their dance a struggle of murder. Breaking the warring elegance of the frozen swords crossed in a shining x, Arthur rammed his buckler against the Piper's chest.
The Piper took only one step back, barely fazed, but that was enough. Arthur bounded away backwards to a safer distance, out of reach of the Piper's rapier, albeit temporarily. He couldn't see Thursday, but this barely registered as Arthur tightened his grip on the hilt of his tulwar, changed his stance to have a better footing, and raised his now-dented buckler to protect his chest. He's much stronger and faster than I am, Arthur thought, and I can't push my luck. Can I outsmart him, I wonder? Let me make the first move…
"If you wanted to dance, mortal boy, save us the trouble and say so!" the Piper jeered. "I'd just play my Pipe and avoid this foolish twinkle-toeing about!" He whirled his weapon in a show-off manner, as if to intimidate the boy. It was working.
Arthur's heart wouldn't settle, trying to break out of the confines of his chest. He couldn't fight the Piper- he was a Denizen! Where was Thursday?
The Piper chuckled, a strange, booming sound that wasn't at all muffled by the mask, and he strode forward. His laugh stopped and changed into a scream as he flipped head over heels and rotated slowly in the air, surrounded by an orb of glowing light. Then he waved his arms frantically as the orb moved and dropped him over the scaffolding.
"Impale yourself when you land, fool," Thursday spat, drawing close to Arthur. "You should've moved; I couldn't get a good killing shot at him with you in front of me."
"Sorry, sir."
"Well, no matter. It was a good tactic, Lieutenant. I was able to use the Key with the time you'd bought." Thursday shifted the large broadsword. "Well, let's go."
"Where, sir?"
"Back to the Citadel. Grab my belt, and let's go."
"But- the others-"
"Consider them casualties. They can't be carried and they can't hold on, so they'd fall off the Stair."
"We can't just leave them!" Arthur protested.
"Why not?"
"They're people!"
"So're we," Thursday said, "and we'll share a gruesome fate if we stay much longer. He'll reach us soon. We need to get back to the Citadel and prepare for an assault. Stop wasting time, Lieutenant! Grab my belt- that's an order!"
Arthur hesitated. He couldn't, in good conscience, leave all of the Piper's Children behind, but he remembered very well the consequences of disobeying an order from Sir Thursday. He was lucky the Piper had come along to stop Thursday's rage when Arthur had refused to execute- no, brutally murder- the Piper's Children. He didn't want to make the Day angry.
Or did he?
The Will had spoken to him, told him to make Sir Thursday mad…
"I-"
The rest of his words were drowned in a pure, single sustained note somewhere below them. Slowly, the Piper's Children all stood, waking and gazing at their wounds.
"It doesn't hurt anymore!" Suzy exclaimed, staring at a long gash in her forearm and wiggling her fingers. Then her eyes widened as her hand jerked to her sword and pulled it out, the other children copying the motion. Simultaneously, they began to march towards Arthur and Thursday. "Run!" Suzy screamed. "Blimey, it's like we're puppets!"
Arthur just stood there with his mouth hanging open like some sort of fish.
Something pulled him backwards, and Arthur narrowly missed Quicksilver's thrust. A vein stood out against her neck, eyes wide, and she was red in the face, probably straining to disobey the music's spell-bound commands. "Run, idiot!" she managed to say, though it seemed taxing.
Thursday tightened his grip around Arthur's arm. It hurt, but all Arthur did was shut his mouth as the Day leaped into the air, dragging the boy along beside him. They landed not on the scaffolding but the white marble of the Stair.
"See what I mean?" he roared. "But no! You're the Rightful Heir. You have greater understanding than a Trustee! You and the Marshalls should start a 'We Know Better than Sir Thursday Club!'"
Arthur kept quiet, and Thursday lapsed into silence. For the first time, Arthur was aware the Stair gave out its own little hum, the Fourth Key in Thursday's hand singing in harmony to it, the two voices eerie in the pulsing, marble world. It was similar to the Piper's melodies, but softer, quieter, and- to him- more powerful. It struck him with a wave of nostalgia, reminding him of- what, exactly? He didn't know, but he thought maybe he'd heard this music before, not on the Stair, but some half-shrouded memory hidden in the back of his mind, nearly grasped but slipping away.
Laughter. He almost recognized it.
"What was that?" Arthur asked, voice dropped to a whisper.
"What was what?" Sir Thursday said. His voice was loud and ungainly compared to the soft music of the Stair.
"The laughter," Arthur answered, "and the music."
"There is no music," Thursday replied, frowning.
"I hear it, though. And I heard a laugh." Arthur cocked his head to the side. He could hear it again, gentle and bell-like, chiming and sweet.
Was he hearing it now, on the Stair, or was it a phantom from a lost memory?
A/N: More coming soon! Please review if you like it! Just a quick 'Great' is fine. And if you hated it, I wouldn't mind a quick 'Whatever.' Next ch. will diverge from canon even more.