Fiction novel hf

The Horns of Kings

Hathor Ingot

4

The Horns of Kings Book One of the

Barren King Accords

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The Horns of Kings Hathor Ingot

Book One of the

Barren King Accords

The Horns of Kings

Chapter One

Will could remember very little from his life before the banishment. He was perhaps three when his family and many others were moved from their warm and comfortable homes in the city to this tiny, dirty town in the middle of the Lo Debar, a vast plain encompassed on three sides by mountains and the cold ocean on the northern most border. There was nothing out here except shallow grassland, with soil that only ran a few feet deep before becoming too stony for anything to grow deep roots. It rained almost every day, sending streams and rivers gushing towards the sea. As far as Will knew, Nilemah was the only town that struggled to survive in this harsh world.

He could still remember the day they were brought here. At least, he could remember snippets. He was too young to understand what was really going on, and the adults of his town refused to explain it to him, even after the twelve years that had past.

It had been raining, he knew that. And there were men in dark coats with big sticks. The mud sucked at the wheels of the carts carrying the people as they rolled closer to the mountains.

When the pass through the Gongar mountains had grown too steep and narrow for the carts, the people were forced the rest of the way on foot. It had taken them three days to cross to the other side, then another day to reach the newly built village. Will’s father carried him on his shoulders for most of it, but the journey still exhausted him. His mother was there, holding his baby sister, who had been crying. Will remembered smiling at her, even though he didn’t feel like it, and she stopped. He’d been scared that they were being taken away from their home. He didn’t like the men in dark clothes, and the cold and rain made him feel like crying. But his father had told him to be strong, for his little sister.

There was a wall around the town, made from stone, and mud. Will remembered thinking of them as the walls to a prison, and when the town gates had boomed shut behind the troupe of families, Will had started crying. It had taken several days for his father to explain that the gates were not locked. They weren’t trapped.

But six years ago, everything had changed.

Will sat on top of the town wall with his breakfast sack, watching the empty 11

Hathor Ingot grey clouds disperse as a gentle morning wind from the south swept away the night’s rain. The sky brightened and the looming silhouettes of the Gongar mountains slowly crept into sight, hiding the sun behind their tall peaks. There was something beautifully ominous about those mountains, like the walls around a forbidden garden.

In the first few months of their new lives, the men of the town had tried to find a way back through the pass, but the men in dark coats had forced a rock fall over the road, blocking it behind them. There was no way back. The men had tried for months to clear a way through, but there was no hope.

Will had long concluded that the men in dark cloaks, and those they worked for, were not worth the effort of getting back to. Though living here was difficult and bleak, it was a way of life. They had survived here for twelve years, and they would go on surviving for as long as necessary.

But that didn’t stop Will from wondering what lay beyond the mountains.

Often, he dreamed of discovering a way through and exploring the land beyond.

He didn’t want to meet the dark men again, but longed to discover the land and the creatures. Will was bored of the same flat landscape and the same dull adults who never smiled.

Will looked down at his thin legs swinging on either side of the town wall.

His left leg was whole and unbroken, but he had broken his other leg six years before, falling from a wall he’d climbed as a dare. His father, being the closest thing the town had to a physician, had set the bones wrong, and it had healed crooked, slowing him to a pace no faster than a lopsided trot.

He took a deep breath and dropped over the side of the now crumbling wall, careful not to land heavily on his lame leg. He could go wherever he pleased, provided he stay within sight of the town, but Will found that leaving via the one and only gate drew too much attention. He never strayed far from the town; his leg made it difficult for him to move very fast, and often grew stiff and painful.

There was a stream to the west of the town, cutting as close as it dared then darting away to meet a larger river that ran north, one of the many that meandered the plains. The large rivers were fast flowing, but the stream Will crossed was shallow enough not to pose any danger, even with his lame leg.

After a few minutes of stiff walking, Will reached his secret place, somewhere he was sure the adults knew about, but never ventured. Just within sight of the town walls was a tree that sat near the river, marking where the ground tilted down to a lower section of the plain. The tree felt older than Will could guess, yet it stood as solid as a young oak. Its bark was black and leathery, but when it was pealed back, the wood beneath was a dark red, as though someone long forgotten had died amongst its roots and the blood had soaked into the ground and stained the very life of the tree. The leaves were a matt silver colour, and they almost seemed to whisper to Will in voices that tickled the edge of his awareness.

When Will reached the tree, he turned his back deliberately on the town, and sat facing the vast emptiness that stretched out at his feet. As far as the eye could see there was only long grass and the occasional scraggy bush. Will knew 12

The Horns of Kings how hard it was to grow enough crops to the north of the village to feed everyone, so he had no idea how the tree’s roots could penetrate deep enough to sustain its life, but here it was none the less.

Will let out a small sigh, lent his head back against the tree and took an apple from his bag. The cool wind playfully pulled at some of his hair, sweeping a dark strand across his eyes. He gazed into the icy sky, watching the lazy patterns of wispy clouds as they moved with the wind. The mornings were his favourite time of day, when he had no responsibilities, and he could simply be himself, revelling in the quiet company of his tree with no-one else in sight.

Will sat up, instantly alert. There was someone there. The stranger had his head down and was leading a large horse. It looked like he was heading for the tree, but Will couldn’t be sure. So far as he knew, no-one had ever come to the town, not since the men in dark cloaks had left. And it couldn’t be someone from the town, no adult ever ventured that far into the Lo Debar. Disturbed by the presence of the stranger, Will stood and pulled himself into the tree. Even with a lame leg, he quickly climbed though the branches with practised ease, balancing on the strongest branches and bracing himself. He stopped halfway up, crouching close to the trunk where he could see the stranger without being noticed.

As he drew closer, Will began to distinguish more details of the man’s attire. A large scabbard and the hilt of a hefty looking sword that glinted in the morning light hung from his belt. His clothes were a mismatch of black and brown, leather and cotton. Only his boots looked new. Will could see a bow and a bundle of arrows wrapped amongst the many packs hanging from the horse’s saddle. Both the man and horse looked weary, and Will reckoned they must have been travelling for a long time if they were coming out of the Lo Debar.

There was nothing to the west of Nilemah, except low hills and yellowing grass.

At least, that is what Will had been told.

Will cautiously shifted higher in the tree as the man began up the slope.

To his horror, the man plonked himself down exactly where Will had been minutes before. He dropped his horse’s reins, and pulled an apple from Will’s bag without showing the slightest surprise at finding a sack of food in the middle of nowhere. After chucking away the apple core, he proceeded to eat the rest of Will’s breakfast.

When he had finished, the man leant back on the tree and released a sound of contentment. He stayed like that for a long time, humming a strange little tune that tugged at Will’s hearing, like he’d heard it before. He was just starting to think of making himself known to the stranger when he heard a deep throaty voice rising from below him. The man was singing!

There was a boy sat in a tree, Who gave me all his lunch for free So scared was he that he fell from the tree And landed with a bump to his head.

13

Hathor Ingot The man repeated the verse several times, each with a different voice, before Will realised that it was about him. He was so surprised that his hand missed he branch he was reaching for, and he fell to the ground with a thump, hitting his head on a protruding root. The stranger laughed.

‘Well, I didn’t know I was that good at predicting the future.’

Will picked himself up and glared at the stranger, rubbing the back of his head, trying to ignore the spots that danced in front of his eyes. The man’s dark hair looked as though he had cut it himself, and together with his scrubby beard, it gave him the look of a vagabond who hadn’t slept properly in the last five years. His face had a weathered look, ingrained with dirt like he had been exposed to the elements for too long. Soft freckles ran across his nose and cheek bones, almost like a mask around his muddy eyes.

All of this registered in a split second, and when their eyes met, the man released another hearty laugh. Will scowled and brushed some dust from his arms.

‘Sorry lad, I shouldn’t laugh, but I’ve been through a lot recently, and you’ve cheered me up no end.’ His laughter receded to a chuckle, and he held out his hand. ‘My apologies for eating your breakfast, but I ran out of food a couple of days ago, and couldn’t resist. I’m Stornwol, or at least, that’s my most common name, and by far one of the nicer things I’ve been called.’ He smiled again as Will warily took his hand.

‘I’m Will.’ There was something compelling about this stranger… Stornwol. Will was torn between knowing better than to talk to strangers and trusting this very friendly man.

‘Short for William?’

‘No, Willem.’ He sat down a little away from Stornwol, facing the mountains.

‘That’s a good strong name.’ Will looked up to find Stornwol staring intently at him. His eyes were the colour of rain that sat on top of thick mud.

They looked deep and full of thought, like they had seen things Will had better not ask about.

‘I suppose.’ Will flicked his gaze back to the mountain range. A stray cloud lightly brushed one of the shorter peaks before slipping away behind the taller ones. The calmness of the sky always comforted Will; it promised a bigger world than the one he lived in.

‘Where are you from?’ the boy asked. ‘There’s nothing out in the Lo Debar except grass.’

‘Isn’t there?’ Stornwol had sat too, and was looking at Will from behind a veil of uneven hair, a smirk playing on his lips. Will was taken aback by the question.

‘Well, of course,’ he replied, but he didn’t sound so sure of himself.

‘How do you know? Have you been out there?’

‘Well no, but–’ ‘Then how do you know what’s out there?’

14

The Horns of Kings ‘That’s what the adults said,’ he mumbled.

Stornwol snorted. ‘And you believe them, do you?’

Will hesitated before he replied. ‘No.’ It came out as little more than a whisper. He trusted the adults, of course he did, but he had always found it hard to believe that there was nothing other than their town in the Lo Debar.

‘Well, they’re wrong. There is something out there, just nothing good.’

‘What do you mean?’

Stornwol sighed and shifted himself so he was lying with his head resting on one root of the tree and his feet on another.

‘I was sent to deal with a family of ogres that was causing trouble in a couple of villages off to the east. Nasty beasts they were too; took me ages to kill them all.’

‘You’ve fought ogres?’ Will asked in an awed voice. His mother used to read stories to him when he was younger, the adventures of knights and tales of mythical beasts. ‘Are ogres really as big as the stories say?’

Stornwol laughed again. ‘No. As a matter of fact, they’re quite small.

About the largest thing they can kidnap is a sheep.’

‘Oh,’ said Will, sounding more than a little disappointed. ‘Why did it take you so long to kill them if they aren’t dangerous?’

‘I never said they weren’t dangerous, just that their arms can’t carry much.

Especially when they’re holding their clubs. That’s the dangerous thing about them; they’re fast and often adorn their weapons with nails and broken bits of metal. They like to go for your ankles, and cut the tendons. When I first attacked, they all came at me at once, and it’s hard keeping your eyes on five different creatures, even when they’re not moving. That’s how I got this.’ Stornwol lifted his trouser leg to reveal a length of old white cloth wrapped around his calf. ‘One of the little ones was faster than I expected and took a swipe at my leg. I had to fall back and hid for a day.’

Will turned to face Stornwol, listening raptly. ‘So how did you kill them all?’

‘Well, ogres are incredibly stupid. Despite their eye-sight being terrible, they insist on doing all their misdeeds at night. It wasn’t hard to sneak up on them on their way back to their den after pillaging. I cut one off from the group, and whilst the others went on ahead, I killed the one I caught. They wouldn’t notice he was missing until they lit a fire in their hole, and by then it would be too late. It took me ten nights to kill them all.’

‘I thought you said there was five?’

‘In the group that attacked me, yes. But there were others in their den.

They only come out a few at a time.’

‘Oh,’ Will pulled a handful of grass out of the ground and rolled it into a ball. ‘Is that your job? Killing ogres?’

‘That’s part of it,’ Stornwol said. ‘I work for the king.’

‘The king?’ The awe was plainly obvious in Will’s voice. This man had seen so much of the world.

15

Hathor Ingot ‘Yes, but I can’t tell you more than that, I’m afraid. It’s a secret.’ He winked at Will, then smiled a wide smile. Will didn’t know what it was, but he decided he rather liked this man. He smiled back.

‘Wow.’ Will started wistfully off to the mountains, his mind suddenly full of all the possible things Stornwol had done. ‘I wish I could travel the world, and get out of this stinking town.’

‘Well, why don’t you?’

The boy shook his head. ‘I can’t.’

‘Why?’ Will didn’t reply. Stornwol watched him for a while, then stood up.

‘You’re a good lad, Will. I wish there were more people like you in the world.’ He wandered over to his gazing horse and picked up the reins. ‘Is there a farrier in your town? Dwanin, my horse, threw a shoe yesterday and I’m tired of walking.’

‘Just inside the gate on the left, you can’t miss it.’ Will watched as Stornwol began walking at a leisurely pace away from him.

‘Thanks for your help, lad,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘And for your breakfast!’ Will could tell from the tone of his voice that the man was smiling.

He whistled as he walked off, and the tune hung about Will on the breeze He waited until Stornwol was through the town gate, then ran as best he could back to the wall.

16

The Horns of Kings

Chapter Two

Will’s mind was spinning from his meeting with Stornwol. As he limped into the kitchen, he was starkly reminded of how much time he had spent with his new friend. His father, a once proud man, was sat at the plain wooden table, staring at a blank bit of wall.

Will stopped when he saw him, as he always did. His father once worked as a physician for a man the villagers call The Great One. He was the only thing from their old lives they ever mentioned, but when Will asked who he was, the elders merely said he was once a great leader, and that he lived no more.

From what he gathered, his father was almost famous; everyone in the town knew him and his work, though they never said what it had been. As Will watched him now, it was hard to see the man they remembered. All that was left was a worn-out shell that could do no more than sit at a table and remember better days. He stirred as he heard his son enter the room behind him.

‘Where have you been, son?’ Will remembered when his father’s voice was strong and comforting, but now it was rough, and quiet.

‘Just beyond the wall, father.’ He took some bread and honey from one of the cupboards and set them on the table. His father, if not prompted, wouldn’t eat. Will took care of him as best he could, but it was difficult now his mother had gone.

‘She doesn’t like you going beyond the wall.’ The man slowly picked at the bread, dipping it in the honey before lifting it to his mouth.

Will stood for a moment with his hand on the back of his father’s seat.

His eyes stuck on the empty chair by the window.

‘Mother isn’t here.’

His father stopped eating. The dripping bead fell wetly from his hand.

‘What?’

Will squeezed his eyes shut.

‘She died, six years ago. You remember.’

‘Oh yes,’ came the haunted reply. ‘After we lost Lotty.’

Will looked sharply at his father. It wasn’t often he said Will’s sister’s name, and it was always painful. Will was the last child left, after the Demon had taken the other children away some six years ago. Yet another thing the villagers refuse to talk about, except to curse the Demon’s name.

‘Yes,’ Will whispered.

17

Hathor Ingot Taking some bread for himself, Will left the house.

––– Will limped a little quicker than usually towards the farrier’s. As the only boy his age, Will had several jobs around the town, but his favourite by far was working with the horses. He silently thanked the Great One – a habit picked up from the adults – that he was working there today, and hoped that the stranger had not already left.

Sure enough, as he neared the gate, Will saw Stornwol holding his horse as the Farrier hammered a shoe to the hoof. He was laughing, and the Farrier was smiling, a rare sight from so sombre a man. Stornwol must have made a great impression.

The Farrier spotted Will as he slunk into the workshop and pulled in his apron.

‘You’re late.’ His voice was soft but stern. It often occurred to Will that all of the men folk spoke in quiet, hushed voices, as though they didn’t want to be over heard.

‘Sorry, I got caught up.’

‘Your father?’

Will nodded. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but for some reason, Will didn’t want to tell the Farrier that he and Stornwol had already met.

Stornwol had looked up when Will spoke, but Will shook his head, and the man held back whatever remark he had been about to make.

After a few more minutes of working, the Farrier release Dwanin’s forth leg.

‘There, all done.’ He patted the patient horse on the flank. ‘I’ve re-shoed all his hooves, as well as the one he threw. The rest were looking a bit worn down.’

‘My thanks, friend,’ said Stornwol with a smile, passing the Farrier a pouch that Will noticed clicked quite heavily when it moved. The Farrier’s eyes widened a little as the bag was dropped into his waiting hand.

‘You know, you really should take better care of your horse. The poor beast looks exhausted.’

Stornwol gave a guilty little shrug. ‘We’ve been travelling for several months. I didn’t think we’d be away from civilization for so long.’

The Farrier nodded, only half listening as he bounced the money pouch around in his hand. He absently told Will to put the horse in the stable and give it some food before he turned and disappeared into the tiny room at the back of the work shop. Will took the reins from Stornwol and lead Dwanin next door to the stables with Stornwol following behind them, staring curiously at Will’s lame leg.

The stables were only half full, so Will put Stornwol’s tired horse in one of the stalls closest to the door. He closed the gate behind them, leaving Stornwol on the other side.

‘How did you get here, lad? I didn’t see you come through the gate.’ The man propped his arms up on the closed gates.

18

The Horns of Kings ‘I climbed the wall,’ Will replied, relieving the horse from his bridle, and hanging it on a peg.

‘No, leave the saddle,’ exclaimed Stornwol, pulling open the gate and rushing to the startle boy’s side. ‘It, ah, I’m not staying long. You don’t need to take off his saddle.’

Will looked uncertainly from Stornwol to the weary horse, who seemed to huff and stamp his hoof with indignation, but brooked no argument. Instead, Will climbed the ladder to the elevated platform beside the stalls and started forking hay over the edge for Dwanin. The horse promptly forgot his momentary nuisance and gave a little nicker of appreciation.

‘What’s wrong with your leg, lad?’

‘I broke it when I was nine. It never healed properly.’

‘Yet you walk without a cane, and willingly climb trees and walls? Curious, don’t you think?’ Will looked over at Stornwol, but the man wasn’t waiting for a reply. He was watching Will’s leg as he moved, as if medically observing it. He snapped his head up to look at Will, realising he’d been staring, then turned to Dwanin.

Stornwol took a brush from one of the saddle bags and began sweeping burrs out of the bit of exposed brown flank. His stroked were slow and steady, and he whispered to Dwanin in melodic tones. He occasionally glanced at Will, who was filling a bucket with oats and chopped carrots, already having forgotten the older man’s question.

After a few moments of silent work, Will’s stomach betrayed his need for food. Stornwol looked up form where his head was resting against Dwanin’s neck and laughed.

‘Did you not have anything after I stole your breakfast?’ he asked, his eyes sparkling with the remembered mischief. Will shook his head and lowered the bucket in front of the hungry horse.

‘Just some bread, that’s all.’ Stornwol chuckled.

‘Why don’t you go and find yourself something to eat. And perhaps a strong drink or two? For me, I mean. Don’t worry, I won’t tell the Farrier.’ He winked at Will as the boy grinned and slipped off.

Not long after, Will and Stornwol were sat at a hurriedly cleared worktable. Will had managed to find several bottles of beer for Stornwol, and few scraps of food for himself.

‘It might taste slightly strange,’ Will explained, handing one of the bottles to Stornwol. ‘We make it ourselves, but no-one here is sure how to brew it properly.’

‘Yep,’ wheezed Stornwol, coughing into his hand. ‘Definitely not beer.’

But he continued drinking it anyway.

‘Have you been on other missions for the king?’ asked Will, itching for more stories about the world he knew so little about.

‘I wouldn’t call them missions, exactly,’ he replied, stealing a corner off a wedge of cheese. ‘They’re just odd jobs that the king needs doing but can’t get 19

Hathor Ingot anyone else to do them.’

‘Why not?’

‘Too secret; too risky; high probability of death. That kind of thing.’ He took another swing from the bottle and screwed up his face.

‘But you do them.’ Will persisted. ‘Why?’ Stornwol looked him straight in the eye. Again, Will felt that faint tug towards the man sat across from him. Then Stornwol blinked and broke the connection.

‘The king is an old friend of mine, and I owe him my life. I repay him by doing his dirty work.’

Will sat back in his chair and huffed. ‘That’s not the real reason.’

‘No, but it’s the reason I’m giving you for now.’

Will sat for a moment, flicking crumbs off the table.

‘What’s it like, out there? Beyond the Lo Debar?’

Stornwol looked at Will, his eyes almost calculating. He took in a deep breath, closed his eyes and began talking, using a strange musical voice filled with magic. He told Will of far of worlds, of mountains so tall they touched the stars, of oceans that housed great leviathans, of cities so immense it took days to cross from one side to the other. He spoke of bewitched armies, of cursed villages and of haunted castles. He described endless journeys, impossible quests, and hopeless battles. Stornwol had been there, and seen everything you could possible imagine, but there was still more.

Will sat before this awe-inspiring man, enthralled as he listened to the wonders Stornwol laid out before him, his mind spinning with each new story.

A quiet sound from behind Will broke the spell and brought the storyteller and his avid listener roughly back to reality; the farrier was leaning against the wooden wall, watching the pair with a disapproving eye. Will didn’t know how long he’d been standing there. There was something in his gaze that frightened Will.

‘Isn’t there work you’re supposed to be doing, boy?’ His voice wasn’t as gentle as usual. Will glanced outside and saw that the sun was already well past midday. It would soon start raining. Will stood from the table without replying and collected the now empty bottles lying in front of Stornwol, and limped out of the workshop. He didn’t want to leave though, and stopped just out of sight to listen.

Neither of the men spoke for several minutes, but Will thought he could hear the Farrier’s breathing getting louder.

‘I know who you are.’ The Farrier’s voice was low, and only just audible.

Will strained his ears to hear what he was saying.

‘And who am I, good sir.’ There was something different about Stornwol’s voice too, but Will couldn’t tell what.

‘You’re him. You’re the devil that took our children from us.’

Silence fell again. Will held his breath.

‘You are mistaken, good sir.’ There was a scraping or wood against stone 20

The Horns of Kings and the soft tread of a man’s step. Stornwol must have stood up. ‘I have never been to your fair town before.’

‘Don’t lie to me,’ the Farrier hissed. ‘You stole my children.’ Will suddenly remembered the Farrier’s three young children. He had been close friends with the Farrier’s eldest son.

More footsteps.

‘No.’ Stornwol’s reply was low, almost menacing.

‘Devil!’ There was a whistling sound, then a sharp crack as wood bounced off wood. More scuffling sounds reached Will’s ears, followed by several thumps. Will was too afraid to peek around the corner; afraid that the Farrier was hitting Stornwol, afraid the Farrier was telling the truth.

There was silence again. Will, unable to contain his curiosity left the bottles where they were and walked back into the room and over to the table where his empty plate of food still lay. There was no one else there.

Will picked up his plate and was about to call out for the Farrier when Stornwol walked out from the Farrier’s room. He stopped when he saw Will.

‘Will.’ He ran his hands down the front of his tunic, like he was getting rid of something. He walked over to the boy, who watched him with a wary eye. Will kept glancing at the Farrier’s room, wishing the man would walk out.

Stornwol dug around in one of his pockets before taking Will’s hand and placing a large gold coin in his palm.

‘Here, something for all of your help.’ Stornwol’s rich voice was back; gone where the tones he used with the Farrier.

Will looked at the coin with wonder. He’d never seen a golden coin before. It must have shown, for Stornwol laughed again, and Will forgot his brief mistrust of this man.

‘Have you never seen gold crown before?’

‘Never,’ Will turned the coin over in his hands, running his fingers over the unfamiliar markings. ‘We trade what we need here. Well, I work for food mostly.’

Stornwol chuckled again and went back to Dwanin’s stall. The bottle’s clinked as his foot brushed them on the way past, but Will had already forgotten about them.

While Will tucked the gold safely into one of his pockets, Stornwol took the bridle from its peg and tied it back on the horse. Taking the reins in one hand, he led the big horse from the stall, humming again. The tune seemed oddly familiar to Will. Once back in the main road, Stornwol checked the buckles on Dwanin’s saddle, patted his sword, various pockets in his cloak, and rubbed his horse’s nose, all whilst whistling.

‘Where are you going?’ Will didn’t mean for his voice to sound how it did, so forlorn and desperate. He didn’t want Stornwol thinking he was a child.

The man finished his tune and turned a soft gaze to Will.

‘I’m not welcome here, lad. Your master made that clear to me.’ He looked at the buildings around him, and the people that were busy with little chores.

21

Hathor Ingot ‘I’ll stay to pick up some supplies, then leave in an hour or so. I’ll follow the road to the east and over the mountains. There’s more the king needs doing.’

He chuckled a little. ‘Sometimes, I think his kingdom would collapse without me.’ He held out his hand, and without realising, Will clasped it.

‘The Farrier said to tell you to go home, there’s nothing more for you to do today.’ Will’s hand tingled where Stornwol held it. ‘I’ll see you soon Will.’

And with that he turned his back and drifted into town, leaving Will to wander in a daze back home.

The rain had been pouring steadily for the last two hours, the droplets chasing each other down the window pane. Will traced a few with his finger as the raced. The tune Stornwol had hummed was spinning around his head, merging with the stories of adventures Will had heard. He had never wanted to leave this town, thinking how cruel the people beyond were for banishing his and many other families to the Lo Debar. But now, after meeting Stornwol, Will wanted to leave, to see if the world was horrid, like the adults said, or if it was as wonderful as Stornwol described.

His father coughed and shifted his position. Will looked at him and sighed. There was no way he could leave his father. Who would take care of him?

Will pushed himself away from the window and the darkening sky, and began preparing dinner. There was never very much to eat, but they always had just enough to see them through until the next day. Will hummed Stornwol’s tune as he worked. It hadn’t been a particularly catchy tune, but for some reason, it stuck.

Suddenly there was a loud bang. Will spun around and found his father standing and staring at him as thought the boy had just sprouted wings. His chair lay on its side.

‘Where did you hear that?’ his father demanded.

Will was almost speechless. His father had never used that tone before.

‘What?’

‘That tune, where did you hear it?’ His father took a couple of steps towards him. Will took a step back, but there was nowhere to go, his back pressed into the stove.

‘There was a man, at the Farrier’s. He was singing it.’

His father began shaking his head.

‘No, no not again.’ He clutched at his hair with his hands, and Will saw with shock that the man was crying. He never cried. ‘Not again.’

‘Dad?’ ‘No!’ With a great bound, Will’s father was in front of him and grasping the front of his shirt. ‘You must forget that song, do you hear me? Forget it!’

‘I don’t understand.’ Will could feel tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

It scared him to see his father like this. ‘Why?’ ‘It doesn’t matter why,’ his father barked. He turned and started dragging 22

The Horns of Kings the boy out of the kitchen and up the rickety stairs. ‘Forget it!’

When they reached Will’s room, his father flung him in and stood blocking the door. Will landed on the floor and rolled to look up at his father. Tears filled his eyes as he looked up at his father. He wiped them away angrily, but the came back, blurring his vision. His throat was dry and he realised he was sobbing.

‘I don’t understand.’ It didn’t sound like his voice. It was rough and childlike. He could tell his father was looking at him, but he only saw the rough outlines.

‘I’m sorry, my son.’ His voice was soft and quiet. If he hadn’t just thrown him to the floor, Will might have thought he cared about him. ‘I won’t lose you too.’ He shut the door.

Will sat on the floor and listened to the sound of the key turning in the lock and being taken out, then the heavy tread as his father walked slowly down the stairs. Will tried to choke back the sobs, but they wouldn’t stop. His throat felt like it had closed up. He ran to the window when he heard the front door slam shut.

His father stood in the street for a moment, looking around as if he didn’t know where he was, which was possible, Will thought; the man hadn’t been outside in six years. His father hesitated, then walked away from the house into the rain. Will didn’t stop the sobs now. He collapsed onto his bed and wept.

23

Have you ever wondered what happened to the children who followed the Piper to paradise?

What happened to the lame little boy from Hamelin who got left behind?

How truthful was the tale we were told?

This is Will’s story; his escape from Hamelin, his adventures across the world, and his reunion with old friends.

But not everything is as it seems‌