Septimus Heap, Book One: Magyk

by Angie Sage

  “What happened to him?” Jenna whispered.

  “He has been Consumed. It’s an old and particularly nasty trick. One from the Cryptic archives,” said Marcia gravely. “The ancient Necromancers used to do it all the time.”

  “Is there nothing we can do for the boy?” asked Aunt Zelda.

  “It’s too late, I’m afraid,” replied Marcia. “He is nothing more than a shadow now. By midday, he will be gone.”

  Aunt Zelda sniffed. “He had a tough life, poor little mite. Snatched from his family and Apprenticed to that awful man. I don’t know what Sarah and Silas are going to say when they hear about this. It’s a terrible thing. Poor Septimus.”

  “I know,” agreed Marcia. “But there’s nothing we can do for him now.”

  “Well, I shall sit with him—what’s left of him—until he disappears,” murmured Aunt Zelda.

  A subdued party minus Aunt Zelda made their way back to the cottage, each occupied with his or her own thoughts. Aunt Zelda came back briefly and disappeared into the Unstable Potions and Partikular Poisons cupboard before returning to the duck house, but everyone else spent the rest of the morning quietly cleaning up the mud and setting the cottage to rights. Boy 412 was relieved to see that the green rock Jenna had given him had not been touched by the Brownies. It was still where he had put it, folded carefully into his quilt, in a warm corner beside the fireplace.

  In the afternoon, after they had coaxed the goat down from the roof—or what was left of it—they decided to take Maxie for a walk on the marsh. As they were leaving, Marcia called out to Boy 412, “Can you help me with something, please?”

  Boy 412 was only too happy to stay behind. Although he was used to Maxie by now, he still was not entirely happy in his company. He never could understand why Maxie would suddenly take it into his head to jump up and lick his face, and the sight of Maxie’s glistening black nose and slobbery mouth always sent an unpleasant shiver through him. Try as he might, he just did not get the point of dogs. So Boy 412 happily waved Jenna and Nicko off to the marsh and went inside to see Marcia.

  Marcia was sitting at Aunt Zelda’s small desk. Having won the battle of the desk before she went away, Marcia was determined to regain control now that she was back again. Boy 412 noticed that all of Aunt Zelda’s pens and notebooks had been dumped on the floor, apart from a few Marcia was busy Transforming into much smarter ones for her own use. She was doing this with a clear conscience as they had a definite Magykal purpose—at least Marcia hoped they were going to have—if all went as she planned.

  “Ah, there you are,” Marcia said in that businesslike way that always made Boy 412 feel as though he had done something wrong. She dumped a scruffy old book on the desk in front of her.

  “What’s your favorite color?” demanded Marcia. “Blue? Or red? I thought it might be red, seeing as you haven’t taken that awful red hat off since you got here.”

  Boy 412 was taken aback. No one had ever bothered to ask him what his favorite color was. And, anyway, he wasn’t even sure if he knew. Then he remembered the beautiful blue inside the Dragon Boat.

  “Um, blue. Sort of deep blue.”

  “Ah, yes. I like that too. With some gold stars, don’t you think?”

  “Yes. Um, that’s nice.”

  Marcia waved her hands over the book in front of her and muttered something. There was a loud rustling of paper as all the pages sorted themselves out. They got rid of Aunt Zelda’s jottings and doodlings, and also her favorite recipe for cabbage stew, and they turned themselves into a brand-new, smooth, cream-colored paper, perfect for writing on. Then they bound themselves in lapis lazuli–colored leather complete with real gold stars and a purple spine that showed the diary belonged to the Apprentice of the ExtraOrdinary Wizard. As a final touch Marcia added a clasp of pure gold and a small silver key.

  She opened the book to check that the spell had worked. Marcia was pleased to see that the first and last pages of the book were bright red, exactly the same color as Boy 412’s hat. Written on the first page were the words: APPRENTICE DIARY.

  “There,” said Marcia, closing the book with a satisfying thump and turning the silver key in the lock. “It looks good, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes,” said Boy 412, bemused. Why was she asking him?

  Marcia looked Boy 412 in the eye.

  “Now,” she said, “I have something to return to you—your ring. Thank you. I will always remember what you did for me.”

  Marcia took the ring from a pocket in her belt and placed it carefully on the desk. Just seeing the gold dragon ring curled on the desk with its tail clasped in its mouth and its emerald eyes shining at him made Boy 412 feel very happy. But for some reason he hesitated to pick it up. He could tell there was something else that Marcia was about to say. And there was.

  “Where did you get the ring?”

  Immediately Boy 412 felt guilty. So he had done something wrong. That’s what it was all about.

  “I—I found it.”

  “Where?”

  “I fell down into the tunnel. You know, the one that went to the Dragon Boat. Only I didn’t know that then. It was dark. I couldn’t see. And then I found the ring.”

  “Did you put the ring on?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “It—it lit up. So I could see where I was.”

  “And did it fit you?”

  “No. Well, not at first. And then it did. It got smaller.”

  “Ah. I don’t suppose it sang you a song, did it?”

  Boy 412 had been staring intently at his feet up until then. But he glanced up at Marcia and caught a smile in her eyes. Was she making fun of him?

  “Yes. As it happens, it did.”

  Marcia was thinking. She said nothing for so long that Boy 412 felt he had to speak.

  “Are you cross with me?”

  “Why should I be cross with you?” she replied.

  “Because I took the ring. It belongs to the dragon, doesn’t it?”

  “No, it belongs to the Dragon Master.” Marcia smiled.

  Boy 412 was worried now. Who was the Dragon Master? Would he be angry? Was he very big? What would he do to him when he found out he had his ring?

  “Could you…” he asked hesitantly, “could you give it back to the Dragon Master? And tell him I’m sorry I took it?” He pushed the ring back across the desk toward Marcia.

  “Very well,” she said solemnly, picking the ring up. “I’ll give it back to the Dragon Master.”

  Boy 412 sighed. He had loved the ring, and just being close to it had made him feel happy, but he wasn’t surprised to hear that it belonged to someone else. It was too beautiful for him.

  Marcia looked at the Dragon Ring for a few moments. Then she held it out to Boy 412.

  “Here”—she smiled—“is your ring.”

  Boy 412 stared at her, uncomprehending.

  “You are the Dragon Master,” said Marcia. “It is your ring. Oh, yes, and the person who took it says to tell you he’s sorry.”

  Boy 412 was speechless. He stared at the ring lying in his hand. It was his.

  “You are the Dragon Master,” repeated Marcia, “because the ring chose you. It doesn’t sing for just anyone, you know. And it was your finger it chose to fit, not mine.”

  “Why?” breathed Boy 412. “Why me?”

  “You have astonishing Magykal power. I told you before. Maybe now you’ll believe me.” She smiled.

  “I—I thought the power came from the ring.”

  “No. It comes from you. Don’t forget, the Dragon Boat recognized you even without the ring. She knew. Remember, it was last worn by Hotep-Ra, the first ExtraOrdinary Wizard. It’s been waiting a long time to find someone like him.”

  “But that’s because it’s been stuck in a secret tunnel for hundreds of years.”

  “Not necessarily,” said Marcia mysteriously. “Things have a habit of working out, you know. Eventually.”


  Boy 412 was beginning to think that Marcia was right.

  “So is the answer still no?”

  “No?” asked Boy 412.

  “To being my Apprentice. Has what I’ve told you changed your mind? Will you be my Apprentice? Please?”

  Boy 412 fumbled in his sweater pocket and pulled out the Charm that Marcia had given him when she had first asked him to be her Apprentice. He looked at the tiny silver wings. They shone as brightly as ever and the words on them still said, FLY FREE WITH ME.

  Boy 412 smiled.

  “Yes,” he said. “I would like to be your Apprentice. Very much.”

  48

  THE APPRENTICE SUPPER

  It had not been easy to bring the Apprentice back. But Aunt Zelda had done it. Her own Drastic Drops and Urgent Ungent had had some effect, but not for long; soon the Apprentice had begun to slip away again. It was then that she had decided there was only one thing for it: Vigor Volts.

  The Vigor Volts were a bit of a gamble, as Aunt Zelda had modified the potion from a Darke recipe she had found in the attic when she had moved in. She had no idea how the Darke part of it would work, but something told her that maybe this was what was needed. A touch of Darkenesse. With some trepidation, Aunt Zelda had unscrewed the lid. A brilliant blue-white light shot out from the tiny brown glass bottle and almost blinded her. Aunt Zelda waited until the spots had disappeared from her eyes, then carefully dropped a tiny amount of the electric blue gel onto the Apprentice’s tongue. She crossed her fingers, something a White Witch does not do lightly, and held her breath. For a minute. Suddenly the Apprentice had sat up, looked at her with eyes open so wide that she could see almost nothing but white, taken a huge, sighing intake of breath and then lain down in the straw, curled up and gone to sleep.

  The Vigor Volts had worked, but Aunt Zelda knew there was something she had to do before he could fully recover. She had to Release him from the clutches of his Master. And so she had sat by the duck pond and, as the sun set and the deep orange full moon rose low on the broad horizon of the Marram Marshes, Aunt Zelda did her own bit of scrying. There were one or two things she wanted to know.

  Night had fallen and the moon was high in the sky. Aunt Zelda walked home slowly, leaving the Apprentice in a deep sleep. She knew he would need to sleep for many days before he could be moved from the duckhouse. Aunt Zelda also knew he would be with her for a while longer. It was time that she had another stray to look after, now that Boy 412 had recovered so well.

  Her blue eyes glittering in the dark, Aunt Zelda picked her way along the Mott path, engrossed by the images she had seen in the duck pond, trying to understand their meaning. So preoccupied was she that she did not look up until she had almost reached the landing stage in front of the cottage. She was not pleased by the sight that met her.

  The Mott, thought Aunt Zelda irritably, was a mess. There were just too many boats cluttering up the place. As if the Hunter’s rancid canoe and the tatty old Muriel Two weren’t bad enough, there was now, parked on the other side of the bridge, a decrepit old fishing boat that contained an equally decrepit old ghost.

  Aunt Zelda marched over to the ghost and spoke to him very loudly and very slowly, in the voice she always used when addressing ghosts. Particularly old ones. The old ghost was remarkably polite to Aunt Zelda, considering she had just woken him up with a very rude question.

  “No, Madam,” he said graciously. “I’m sorry to disappoint you. I’m not one of those awful old sailors off that evil ship. I am, or I suppose I should, strictly speaking, say that I was, Alther Mella, ExtraOrdinary Wizard. At your service, Madam.”

  “Really?” said Aunt Zelda. “You don’t look a bit like I expected.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” said Alther graciously. “Excuse my rudeness in not alighting from my boat to greet you, but I have to stay in my dear old boat Molly, otherwise I will be Returned. But it is a pleasure to meet you, Madam. I take it you are Zelda Heap.”

  “Zelda!” Silas called out from the cottage.

  Aunt Zelda looked up at the cottage, puzzled. All the lanterns and candles were blazing, and it seemed to be full of people.

  “Silas?” she yelled. “What are you doing here?”

  “Stay there,” he shouted. “Don’t come in. We’ll be out in a minute!” He disappeared into the cottage, and Aunt Zelda heard him say, “No, Marcia, I’ve told her to stay outside. Anyway, I’m sure Zelda wouldn’t dream of interfering. No, I don’t know if there are any more cabbages. Why do you want ten cabbages anyway?”

  Aunt Zelda turned to Alther, who was lounging comfortably in the prow of the fishing boat. “Why can’t I go in?” she demanded. “What’s going on? How did Silas get here?”

  “It’s a long story, Zelda,” said the ghost.

  “You may as well tell me,” said Aunt Zelda, “as I don’t suppose anyone else will bother to. They seem too busy raiding my entire stock of cabbages.”

  “Well,” said Alther, “I was in DomDaniel’s rooms one day attending to some, er, business, when the Hunter came and told him he had found out where you all were. I knew you were safe while the Big Freeze lasted, but when the Big Thaw arrived I thought you would be in trouble. I was right. As soon as the thaw came, DomDaniel shot off to Bleak Creek and picked up that ghastly ship of his, ready to bring the Hunter down here. I arranged for my dear friend Alice at the Port to have a ship ready and waiting to take you all somewhere safe. Silas insisted that all the Heaps had to go, so I offered him Molly to travel in down to the Port. Jannit Maarten had her laid up at the boatyard, but Silas got her in the water. Jannit wasn’t very happy about the state Molly was in, but we couldn’t wait around for any repairs. We stopped off at the Forest and picked up Sarah; she was very upset because none of the boys would come. We set off without them, and we were making good time until we had a small technical problem—a large technical problem, actually. Silas put his foot through the bottom of the boat. While we were repairing it we got overtaken by the Vengeance. Lucky not to be spotted, really. Sarah was in a terrible state about that—she thought all was lost. And then, to crown it all, we got caught up in the Storm and swept onto the marshes. Not one of my most enjoyable trips in Molly. But here we are, and while we were just messing about in a boat, you seem to have dealt with everything most satisfactorily yourselves.”

  “Apart from the mud,” muttered Aunt Zelda.

  “Indeed,” agreed Alther. “But in my experience Darke Magyk always leaves some kind of dirt behind. It could be worse.”

  Aunt Zelda did not reply. She was somewhat distracted by the din coming from the cottage. Suddenly there was a loud crash followed by raised voices.

  “Alther, what is going on in there?” demanded Aunt Zelda. “I’m only gone for a few hours, then I come back to find some kind of party going on and I’m not even allowed back into my own home. Marcia has gone too far this time if you ask me.”

  “It’s an Apprentice Supper,” said Alther. “For the Young Army lad. He’s just become Marcia’s Apprentice.”

  “Really? That’s wonderful news,” said Aunt Zelda, brightening. “Perfect news in fact. But you know, I always hoped he would.”

  “Did you?” said Alther, beginning to warm to Aunt Zelda. “I always did too.”

  “Still,” sighed Aunt Zelda, “I could have done without this supper lark. I had a nice quiet bean and eel stew planned for tonight.”

  “Got to have the Apprentice Supper tonight, Zelda,” Alther said. “It must be held on the day the Apprentice accepts a Wizard’s offer. Otherwise the contract between the Wizard and the Apprentice is void. And you can’t make the contract again—you only get one chance. No supper, no contract, no Apprentice.”

  “Oh, I know,” said Aunt Zelda airily.

  “When Marcia was Apprenticed to me,” said Alther nostalgically, “I remember we had quite a night. We had all the Wizards there, and there were a lot more in those days too. That supper was something we talked about for years afterw
ard. We had it in the Hall of the Wizard Tower—you ever been there, Zelda?”

  Aunt Zelda shook her head. The Wizard Tower was somewhere she would have liked to have visited, but when Silas was briefly Alther’s Apprentice she had been too busy taking over as Keeper of the Dragon Boat from the previous White Witch, Betty Crackle, who had let things go somewhat.

  “Ah, well, let’s hope you get to see it one day. It is a wonderful place,” he said, remembering the luxury and Magyk that had surrounded them all then. A little different, thought Alther, from a makeshift party beside a fishing boat.

  “Well, I have every hope that Marcia will be going back very soon,” said Aunt Zelda. “Now that we seem to have got rid of that awful DomDaniel man.”

  “I was Apprenticed to that awful DomDaniel man, you know,” Alther continued, “and all I got for my Apprentice Supper was a cheese sandwich. I can tell you, Zelda, I regretted eating that cheese sandwich more than anything else I had ever done in my life. It bound me to that man for years and years.”

  “Until you pushed him off the Wizard Tower.” Aunt Zelda chuckled.

  “I didn’t push him. He jumped,” protested Alther. Yet again. And not, he suspected, for the last time.

  “Well, good for you, whatever happened,” said Aunt Zelda, distracted by the babble of excited voices coming from the open doors and windows of the cottage. Above the hubbub came Marcia’s unmistakable bossy tones:

  “No, let Sarah take that one, Silas. You’ll only drop it.”

  “Well, put it down, then, if it’s that hot.”

  “Mind my shoes, will you? And get that dog off for goodness’ sake.”

  “Wretched duck. Always under my feet. Eurgh, is that duck poo I’ve just trodden on?”

  And finally: “And now I’d like my Apprentice to lead the way, please.”

  Boy 412 came out the door, holding a lantern. He was followed by Silas and Simon, who were carrying the table and chairs, then Sarah and Jenna with an assortment of plates, glasses, bottles, and Nicko who had a basket piled high with ten cabbages. He had no idea why he had a basket of cabbages, and he was not going to ask either. He had already trodden on Marcia’s brand-new purple python shoes (there was no way she would be wearing galoshes to her Apprentice’s Supper), and was keeping out of her way.