Archie Greene and the Raven's Spell

by D D Everest

  ‘And what will the Magical League do about the stolen book?’ asked Hawke.

  Morgred’s brow furrowed. ‘We will issue a proclamation. Something carefully worded,’ he said. ‘People already suspect that it’s one of the Terrible Tomes; if they knew which of the seven there would be panic. But spreading a little fear might loosen some tongues.’

  Morgred’s eyes roamed around the room, making Archie uncomfortable. He had the feeling that the magic enforcer could sense them standing there in the shadows.

  ‘Good evening, gentlemen.’ Morgred’s face disappeared from the crystal orb leaving only Gloom’s face illuminated.

  ‘I’d better be going as well,’ said Gloom. He held up his hand in farewell. ‘Goodnight, Gideon. If anyone can recover The Book of Night, then it’s you. Good luck.’

  The oculus went dark. Hawke put his head in his hands and gave a long sigh.

  ‘Let’s get out of here,’ whispered Archie.

  ‘What about the disappearing spells?’ asked Arabella.

  ‘Not now,’ said Archie. ‘I think he’s got enough on his plate. I’ll tell him first thing tomorrow.’

  6

  The Light and the Shade

  The next day, when Archie told Hawke about the vanishing spells, he looked concerned.

  ‘And you’re sure it was a black flame?’ he asked.

  ‘Positive,’ Archie confirmed.

  Hawke paced up and down a couple of times in silence, his brow creased in thought.

  ‘Could it be connected with The Book of Night?’ Archie blurted out.

  Hawke swung round to look at him. ‘How do you know about that?’ he snapped angrily.

  ‘I overheard you talking to Gloom in the oculus,’ Archie said, his face colouring.

  ‘I see,’ said Hawke, glowering at him. ‘So you listen at keyholes now! Spying on people is becoming a bit of a habit of yours, Archie!’

  Archie stared at his shoes.

  Hawke resumed pacing. His brow darkened. ‘Old Zeb tells me you have dreams about Fabian Grey?’ he said.

  Archie was too embarassed to feel annoyed that the bookbinder had gone behind his back. He told Hawke about his most recent dream of the raven and the Tower of London.

  Hawke listened attentively. ‘You must tell me if you have any more dreams like that,’ he said when Archie had finished. He gave a grim smile. ‘Fabian Grey seems to haunt us all!’

  Hawke started pacing again, and he looked like he was carrying a great weight on his shoulders. He stopped by the fire with his back to Archie. For a long moment he stared into the flames, as if he was weighing something in his mind, unsure which direction to go in. Then he turned to face Archie.

  ‘I want you to come and work with me in Lost Books,’ he said. ‘And I don’t just mean as a magic diviner – I mean as my personal apprentice. I need some help. The Greaders are planning something very big, I’m sure of it. The theft of The Book of Night confirms it. It’s my job to stop them. We have to find that book before the Greaders open it. But I won’t lie to you, Archie, it is dangerous. So what do you say?’

  Archie was flattered. Coming from Hawke this was praise indeed.

  ‘What about rewriting the books?’ he asked.

  Hawke was studying him again. ‘After what you’ve just told me about the black flame and the disappearing spells, I think it’s best that you don’t write any more magic for the time being.’

  Archie felt a sudden panic. Did Hawke think that he was to blame for the spells disappearing? ‘Why?’ he asked.

  ‘Something is consuming the newly written spells and I don’t want to feed it. Tell the others, too – it’s not safe for any of you to be writing magic.’

  Archie was relieved to hear that Hawke wasn’t singling him out. Still, it was a blow. They’d been making good progress rewriting the books. Archie felt disappointed. But at least it would take some of the pressure off the remaining members of the Alchemists’ Club.

  ‘The black flame – what do you think it is?’ he asked.

  Hawke blew out his cheeks. ‘I think it’s related to the stolen book, and if I’m right then we must proceed very carefully indeed.’

  ‘We can continue your delving training while you’re helping me,’ he added. ‘I’ll ask Wolfus to give you some lessons as soon as he’s well enough. Kill two birds with one stone.’

  The mention of birds made Archie think about the raven in his dream. He wondered again what it meant and why Hawke was so interested. Interested enough to want Archie to be his apprentice.

  Normally, Hawke was cautious about teaching apprentices magic. This was out of character. Archie knew whatever had caused the change in him must be serious. He swallowed hard.

  ‘I’ll do whatever I can to protect the museum,’ he said. ‘But why me?’

  Hawke’s lips creased into a half smile and the shadow that had fallen over him seemed to lift a little. ‘You’re a book whisperer,’ he said, ‘which is a very useful talent for finding books, and therefore should be helpful in tracking down The Book of Night.’

  He saw Archie’s puzzled expression and continued.

  ‘A book whisperer has an advantage when it comes to delving. You instinctively know when magic is present. The first time you entered the Aisle of White, you could hear the magical books talking to each other even though you didn’t know what it was.

  ‘And there are other magical talents that come naturally to you, too. You were able to release Barzak from The Book of Souls. To do that you must have used a very powerful unbinding spell. And to send him back into the book you must have used an even more powerful binding spell.’

  Archie’s jaw fell open. ‘But I had no idea,’ he gasped.

  ‘No,’ said Hawke, ‘I don’t suppose you did.’ He looked thoughtful.

  ‘I wondered how you were able to defeat Barzak. It shouldn’t have been possible for someone untrained in magic to resist such a powerful darchemist, even though he was weakened by years of imprisonment in the book.’

  Hawke’s eyes wandered to the flickering fire and he stared into the flames.

  ‘I have to admit, Archie, it troubled me greatly at the time. Then you saved Orpheus’s life by breaking the dark quill’s spell.’

  He was referring to the time that Orpheus Gloom had picked up a hexed quill that would have killed him if Archie hadn’t managed to write a spell to stop it.

  ‘Again, you did that without any proper training. You were practising very advanced magic – yet you had no knowledge of how or what you were doing. Even the most able magister would take years to learn what you did instinctively. And then I was sure.’

  Archie felt a knot in his stomach.

  Hawke gave him a thin smile. ‘It seems, Archie, that you are practising your own kind of original, instinctual magic – and that’s very, very rare. You used original magic to defeat Barzak and save Orpheus. Those spells are your own. They are inside you.’

  Archie felt the knot in his stomach tighten. Somehow he was able to perform amazing feats of magic without knowing what he was doing. It had worried him, too. He’d pushed it from his mind, or tried to dismiss it as a fluke, but deep down he had always known there had to be some other explanation. He remembered how he’d been able to understand the magical language called Enochian Script when it had taken Horace Catchpole hours to decipher the meaning.

  For the first time, Archie felt frightened by his own abilities.

  ‘But I have no control over it,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to perform any of that magic – it just happened. What if I accidentally hurt someone?’

  ‘You can learn to control it,’ said Hawke. ‘That’s what I’m going to help you with.’

  Archie felt a wave of relief. It would be all right. Hawke would help him channel his magical ability.

  The head of Lost Books turned away and began pacing again. ‘But first you need to understand what we’re up against. I’m going to tell you some things that may alarm you,’ he said. ‘I only t
ell you now because the stakes are high and you need to know.’

  Archie wondered what he was going to say. Hawke picked up a log and placed it on the fire. For a moment he watched it burn and then he began to speak.

  ‘The Book of Night is the last of the seven Terrible Tomes. It’s the darkest book of all. Until very recently its whereabouts was known only to a handful of people at the Royal Society of Magic. Even I did not know it was there,’ he added, with a trace of bitterness.

  He was speaking in a low voice now. Archie felt a change in the atmosphere of the room. Despite the fire in the grate, it felt cold. He had goosebumps on his skin.

  He waited for Hawke to explain, but the head of Lost Books seemed reluctant to say more. He gingerly placed another log on the grate, watching as it nestled into the orange glow at the heart of the fire. The flames licked its surface and soon the dry wood caught. Hawke gazed into the writhing tongues of fire.

  ‘See how the log burns?’ he said, flicking his eyes towards Archie and then back to the fire. ‘The flames are hungry, they devour the wood and it makes them stronger.’

  He replaced the fireguard in front of the hearth. ‘The spells you are rewriting in the books are like the logs,’ he said. ‘They feed the magical flames.’

  ‘Flames?’ said Archie, surprised. ‘There’s more than one?’

  Hawke nodded. ‘The Flame of Pharos isn’t the only magical flame. There’s another – the Flame of Pandemonium – the Dark Flame. It is the dark twin of Pharos. Both flames seek to control the path of magic. Each tries to consume the spells of the other. But only one can prevail. It’s the light and the shade, you see, Archie.’

  As he watched the flames in the hearth devouring the log, Archie felt a shiver run up his spine.

  Hawke continued. ‘The Dark Flame would turn the magical realm to dark magic. It has its own firemark, the Black Dragon, and it has its own deadly servants. There are three of them and they are called the Pale Writers. They are the corrupted spirits of long-dead darchemists. They have only one aim: to find The Opus Magus.’

  Archie remembered hearing about The Opus Magus. It was the great work of magic, but no one had seen it in centuries.

  ‘I thought The Opus Magus was just a legend?’ he said.

  Hawke shook his head. ‘No, it’s real. It is the primary spell that created magic and made all the others possible. If the Dark Flame were to control The Opus Magus then there would only be dark magic in the world.’

  Hawke stared at the twisting fire in the hearth as its yellow tongues consumed the last of the burning log.

  ‘The Book of Night contains the Dark Flame,’ he said. ‘Whoever opens it will release the Pale Writers. Think of it, Archie – a dark master to rule the magical realm.’

  ‘How do you know this?’ asked Archie, shocked.

  ‘Because the new spells are burning black,’ said Hawke. ‘Stealing the book must have woken the Dark Flame. Now it is devouring the fresh spells. It is still weak but it seeks their power to regain its strength. The book has not been opened yet so the Dark Flame remains contained. It will take a strong spell to release it and probably at a time of dark power, during a lunar eclipse. We must hope we can recover it before that happens.’

  ‘But if The Book of Night is opened?’ Archie gasped. ‘How can we stop the Dark Flame?’

  Hawke’s brow darkened. ‘If the book is opened then the magical realm will be in great danger – probably the greatest danger it has ever faced. Magic itself will be in peril. But there may be a way to stop it even then.’

  His brow furrowed. ‘We found something in the archive. When Morag was looking through the old texts, she discovered an old notebook that belonged to John Dee.’

  Morag Pandrama was the museum’s archivist. It was her job to look after the old magical records. Archie’s ears pricked up at the mention of Dee’s name.

  ‘It contains a prophecy,’ added Hawke. ‘It’s written in obscure language but it suggests that there is a way to defeat the Dark Flame. That’s why Faustus Gaunt is here. He’s an expert on magical prophecies. I’ve asked him to examine it and give us his opinion.’

  Hawke paused. ‘Faustus and Morag are searching through the archive now to see if they can find anything else that might throw some light on the matter.’

  ‘And as my apprentice, you will have access to the archive. I’ll ask Morag to put out some reading materials for you.’

  ‘You’ll need this,’ he said, producing a silver key and sliding it across the desk. Archie put it in his pocket.

  *

  That afternoon, the museum elders called an urgent meeting at Quill’s. Work came to a standstill and the apprentices filed into the function room.

  Archie barely had time to tell Bramble, Thistle and Arabella what he’d learned from Hawke about the Dark Flame and the prophecy before Motley Brown rounded up the stragglers and closed the doors.

  The apprentices were restless.

  ‘What’s all this about?’ demanded Peter Quiggley, sitting down in the place where Rupert would have sat.

  ‘Dunno,’ said Arabella, giving him a disdainful look that said he wasn’t welcome.

  ‘It must be something to do with the stolen book,’ continued Quiggley, ignoring her hint. He turned to Bramble and Thistle. ‘I heard it was your dad’s fault that it was taken in the first place.’

  ‘It wasn’t his fault,’ growled Thistle, ‘he was just doing his job!’

  ‘Or rather not doing his job!’ snickered Quiggley, with a smirk. ‘Wasn’t he expelled from the museum, too?’

  It was true that Woodbine had been asked to leave the museum a few years earlier after he’d opened a popper, releasing the spell for a rhinoceros in a collection of priceless antique china. Thistle, like all the Foxe family, was sensitive about the subject.

  ‘That was an accident,’ he said, squaring up to Quiggley.

  ‘A bit accident-prone, your dad!’ sneered Quiggley.

  ‘Stop it, both of you,’ said Arabella. ‘The meeting is about to start.’

  ‘He’s asking for it!’ said Thistle, hotly.

  ‘It’s not worth fighting over,’ said Bramble. ‘It’s done now.’

  The two boys glared at each other. But before the hostilities could escalate, Graves took her place among the elders. In her hand she held a parchment scroll with a blue wax seal. Something about the scroll looked ominous.

  ‘Please take your seats so we may begin.’

  The apprentices shuffled their feet. There was a nervous energy in the room. All eyes were on Graves now. She paused and took a breath. ‘I have an important announcement to make,’ she continued, holding up the scroll so they could all see it. ‘Along with every other magical institution, we have received a message from the Magical League. I have been instructed to read it to you.’

  She broke the wax seal and unwound the scroll. Her eyes scanned its contents, her lips moving soundlessly as she absorbed its meaning. Her face, always solemn, had turned even more dour than usual. She glanced at the other elders then coughed once to clear her throat.

  ‘By order of the Magical League, I hereby proclaim a state of heightened alert in the magical realm. A book has been stolen from the Royal Society of Magic. It is one of the Terrible Tomes and is highly dangerous. This is in direct violation of the Lores of Magical Restraint, and appears to be part of a Greader plot. Anyone with information about this crime or the whereabouts of the missing book must inform the magical authorities immediately. Under no circumstances should anyone open this book. I repeat, do not attempt to open this book!’

  The room had fallen silent. Graves looked up from the scroll. ‘It is signed by Uther Morgred himself,’ she said, looking at the other elders.

  One of the younger apprentices gave a strangled sob and burst into tears. There was a cry of distress from the back of the room, and all heads turned just in time to see Meredith Merrydance collapse in a faint.

  *

  Archie, Bramble and Thistle
walked home from the museum together. Now that Hawke had suspended their magic writing they had the evening off. Archie was still thinking about the proclamation and what Hawke had told him about The Book of Night. He felt the silver key in his pocket.

  ‘What’s actually in the archive?’ he asked Bramble.

  ‘All the old records and texts about magical books,’ she replied. ‘It’s the first place the elders look when they find an unidentified magical book or artefact. Why?’

  ‘That’s where they found Dee’s prophecy,’ mused Archie. ‘I wonder if there’s anything else in there connected to the Dark Flame.’

  ‘Apprentices aren’t allowed inside,’ said Bramble.

  Archie smiled. ‘I am,’ he said. He opened his hand to show them the key.

  Thistle stared at it. ‘Why has he given you a key?’ he asked.

  Archie shrugged. ‘I suppose it goes with being his apprentice,’ he said. ‘If I’m going to work in Lost Books I need to know my way around.’

  ‘Just be careful,’ said Bramble. ‘There’s some strange stuff in the archive. You might get more than you bargained for.’

  Archie smiled. ‘Come on, Bram, we’re talking about the archive here, not the Darchive!’

  ‘Don’t mention that place to me,’ said Thistle with a shudder. ‘I don’t want to go anywhere near it ever again.’

  Archie agreed with Thistle. The Darchive was definitely not on his list of places to revisit. But he was sure the archive couldn’t be nearly as bad. And if Morag Pandrama had found Dee’s prophecy there, there might be other valuable information. He decided to check it out the following day.

  7

  Inside the Archive

  Security in the Lost Books Department had been increased after the incident with The Grim Grimoire and the Alchemists’ Club a few months earlier. The door to the archive, which also led to the Darchive, was locked and reinforced.