by D D Everest
‘What is it?’ cried Loretta. ‘What’s happened?’
‘It’s Archie. He’s been attacked,’ said Woodbine.
*
Half an hour later, Archie was sitting by the fire in the Foxes’ living room with a blanket around his shoulders, drinking hot sweet tea.
‘W-what happened?’ he croaked.
‘You were attacked. It’s a good job you had your keepsafe on. It protected you from the worst of it.’
Archie felt the reassuring presence of the Emerald Eye on the silver chain around his neck. He clasped the gemstone – it was warm in his hand.
He looked up at his uncle. ‘What was it?’
Woodbine glanced at Loretta. She nodded. ‘Tell the boy,’ she said gently. ‘He deserves to know.’
‘You were attacked by one of the Pale Writers,’ said Woodbine. ‘There are three of them. The first is Doubt, the second is Dread, and the third, their leader and the most deadly of all, is Despair. They attack their victims when they are vulnerable. It was the first of the three that ambushed you. Doubt is the weakest of their number. I don’t like to think what would have happened if all of them had attacked you at the same time.’
‘But what do they want with me?’ asked Archie.
Loretta answered. ‘They must be drawn to you because you are descended from Fabian Grey. They must sense that you share his magical abilities.’
*
Archie lay awake most of the night thinking about what Woodbine and Loretta had said. Every time he thought he’d got it straight in his head about his connection to Fabian Grey, it seemed there was another layer to it. He couldn’t help worrying about their similarities. Like him, Grey had a forked fate and the Golden Circle firemark.
What they also had in common was that they had both consulted The Book of Prophecy. But the book had only shown Grey how to save magic.
As he turned this over and over in his mind, an idea was forming in Archie’s head. Everyone who consulted The Book of Prophecy seemed to be badly affected by the experience. Fabian Grey had lost his mind for a while and Archie’s father had disappeared under mysterious circumstances. Old Zeb had said the book’s magic was too powerful for mortal minds.
But Archie had used his retrospectre. The spell had protected him from harm.
Perhaps he could do the same thing again! It might be the only way of discovering Grey’s secret and stopping the Dark Flame. It might help him find out what had happened to his family, too. He was still brooding on these dark thoughts when he fell asleep.
12
The Oath
The next day was Friday. Archie was still feeling the effects of the Pale Writer attack. He was weak and listless. As they were about to leave the house, he glanced in the mirror in the hall.
‘Do I look any different to you?’ he asked Thistle.
‘A little paler, perhaps,’ said his cousin.
‘I feel thinner, too,’ Archie said. ‘Less solid.’
‘Mum’s cooking will soon sort that out,’ said Thistle, grinning.
Archie managed a smile, but he didn’t feel reassured.
After breakfast, the three cousins walked into Oxford. Loretta had made them promise to stick together, especially after dark. Woodbine thought it unlikely that the Pale Writers would bother them in the daytime, but they should make sure they were safely indoors by nightfall.
Bramble had spent her evening researching the Pale Writers.
‘They’re creatures of the night,’ she said as they walked into town. ‘They prefer to get their victims on their own. They prey on their weaknesses and insecurities. They are drawn to anyone with the Golden Circle firemark because they want to corrupt all magic writers and turn them into darchemists.
‘Make no mistake, Archie, if they can they will make you like them – a slave to the Dark Flame. You mustn’t let them get inside your head. Fear feeds upon itself. If you can name your fear you can break its grip and turn it on itself.’
Archie thought about that all the way to Lost Books. When he got there, Hawke had already heard about the attack.
‘So The Book of Night is open, just as we feared. The attack on you last night confirms it. How do you feel?’
‘I’ve felt better,’ said Archie, trying to play it down. ‘It was as if that … thing … could read my mind. It seemed to home in on any tiny doubt.’
‘Yes, that’s exactly what it was doing,’ said Hawke, ‘using your doubts against you. That’s their way. The Pale Writers delve inside your memories to find your weaknesses. But they can only use real memories against you, not magical memories created by spells. Remember that.’
When Archie repeated what he’d told Thistle about feeling thin, Hawke looked concerned.
‘I’ve never heard of anything like that before. I’m sure it’s nothing,’ he said, but Archie thought he avoided his eye.
‘Zeb told me about your dream,’ continued Hawke. ‘What did you see?’
Archie explained about the Dark Flame and the oath. ‘It sounded like some sort of spell,’ he said.
Hawke’s brow darkened. ‘That’s precisely what it was. The enemy is mustering its forces. The Flame is drawing the Greaders to it. It gets stronger with every new follower,’ he said.
‘There’s something else,’ said Archie. ‘The one who opened the book seemed to be their leader.’
‘A dark master,’ said Hawke. For a moment he didn’t speak. He looked straight through Archie as if he’d forgotten he was there, and then he gave a long sigh as if all the energy and life had gone out of him. ‘I have to inform the magical authorities. They will need to act immediately. Thank you, Archie. You can go.’
And with that he picked up his quill and began to scribble a note.
*
That lunchtime, the Alchemists’ Club minus Rupert held an impromptu meeting in Quill’s. Arabella had already heard about the attack through the museum grapevine.
‘So the Pale Writers are especially drawn to you!’ she said. ‘Remind me to walk home with someone else!’
It was meant as a joke to cheer him up but Archie couldn’t manage a smile. He couldn’t help thinking that the skin on his hands looked paler than usual. He had a moment of panic when he wondered if he was fading away. He needed some answers and he needed them quickly. He remembered his plan to consult The Book of Prophecy. It had seemed like a good idea the night before but now he wasn’t so sure.
And when he told the others, they reacted with howls of protest.
‘It’s a crazy idea!’ said Arabella. ‘Everyone who’s ever opened The Book of Prophecy has gone barking mad or disappeared!’
‘Except me,’ protested Archie. ‘I consulted it before, remember, and my retrospectre protected me.’
The others weren’t convinced, but it seemed the only way to find out what Grey had seen, and time was clearly running out. In truth, Archie was not completely convinced himself. His assertion that his retrospectre would protect him was mostly a show of bravado. He was beginning to have serious misgivings about the whole thing. But he didn’t want to admit that, even to himself.
‘If we can’t talk you out of it then we need to be there in case something goes wrong,’ said Bramble. ‘When are you planning to do it?’
‘As soon as I can,’ said Archie, starting to wish he’d never thought of it. ‘But I’ll have to be careful. I can’t afford to get caught,’ he added.
‘Shhhh!’ hissed Arabella, rolling her eyes sideways at the next table where Peter Quiggley and another apprentice were sitting.
‘What’s up?’ asked Bramble.
‘I think they’re listening to our conversation.’
Bramble glared at Quiggley. ‘Are you ear wigging?’ she asked.
‘You don’t really think I’m interested in your silly little club, do you?’ sneered Quiggley.
With a self-satisfied smile he moved away.
‘He’s far too pleased with himself,’ muttered Bramble.
‘He’s not
worth bothering about,’ said Arabella, tossing her hair. ‘My parents know the Quiggleys and they haven’t got a good word to say about anyone.’
*
When Archie went back to see Hawke that afternoon, his office door was closed and he could hear raised voices coming from inside.
After what Hawke had said about him listening at keyholes, he hesitated. He’d better not get caught eavesdropping again. He turned away.
But as he did he recognised Morag Pandrama’s voice. She sounded defensive.
‘There is no trace of Grey’s vision in the archive, Gideon. Believe me, I have looked! If Grey wrote it down then it must be somewhere else.’
Archie was about to move away but something about Hawke’s voice sounded different. He was usually so calm and reasonable. Archie had never heard him raise his voice before.
‘Well, look again!’ he growled. ‘Grey must have left a clue somewhere.’
‘I tell you: it’s not here,’ said Pandrama.
‘Where then?’ demanded Hawke, tetchily.
‘Have you considered the fact that the museum isn’t the only magical archive?’ said Pandrama. ‘There are others.’
Hawke grunted.
Pandrama’s voice softened. ‘You need some rest, Gideon. You are pushing yourself too hard. You’ll make yourself ill again.’
There was a long sigh of frustration from Hawke. ‘I’m so close to discovering Grey’s secret, I know it. I can feel it in my blood.’
‘Are you taking your medication?’ asked Pandrama sharply.
‘It doesn’t help,’ snapped Hawke. ‘It blunts my mind.’
‘But you know what they said at the asylum. You must take it – unless you want to have a relapse.’
Archie froze. So Hawke had spent time in the asylum. This was news. He wondered what had made the head of Lost Books ill.
‘To hell with the asylum!’ growled Hawke. Archie heard footsteps crossing the room. He managed to leap back just in time.
The door opened and Pandrama came out. She looked tired and shut the door behind her.
‘He’s having a bad day,’ she said, seeing Archie’s worried look. ‘He’s under a lot of pressure,’ she added. ‘The authorities are still blaming him for The Book of Night being stolen.’
‘But it wasn’t his fault,’ said Archie, leaping to Hawke’s defence.
‘I know that,’ said Pandrama. ‘But they’re looking for a scapegoat and he fits the bill.’ She gave a loud tut. ‘It doesn’t help, of course, that he’s refusing to take his medication. It’s to calm his mind,’ she added, seeing the question on Archie’s face. ‘When someone has a lot of magical ability like Gideon, it can be too much to handle. The medicine helps. I’ll ask Motley to make a fresh batch.’
She gave Archie a resigned look. ‘Try to encourage him to take it,’ she said. ‘It’s for his own good.’
Archie nodded and slipped through the door. Hawke was sitting at his desk holding his quill in one hand and staring into space. The head of Lost Books looked more ruffled than usual and Archie thought he could see a few grey hairs among the black. The stress must be taking its toll.
Archie was tidying Hawke’s office, something he seemed to spend half his time doing. But no matter how often he picked up open books and stacked them neatly, the room never seemed to look any less cluttered. Archie wondered if it reflected Hawke’s mind. The head of Lost Books seemed increasingly distracted, and Archie was starting to worry about his own health, too. Something was bothering him and he needed to get it off his chest.
‘Why am I having these dreams?’ he asked, trying to keep the desperation from his voice.
Hawke looked up and his face creased into a frown. ‘You consulted The Book of Prophecy,’ he said. ‘What did you expect? That book nearly drove Fabian Grey mad. It’s not wise to look into the future, Archie. It’s a burden too great for mortals.’
‘It may be the only way to find out what Grey saw,’ said Archie.
Hawke looked up sharply. ‘Consulting The Book of Prophecy should only be considered as a very last resort. It’s too dangerous, even for a book whisperer.’
Archie felt his heart sink. That was what Old Zeb had said.
‘Do you think it marked me in some way?’ he asked, remembering what else the old bookbinder had said.
‘It’s possible,’ said Hawke. ‘It’s a very powerful book and not one to be taken lightly. You were lucky.’
‘But the Emerald Eye protected me,’ said Archie, hoping it was true.
Hawke gave a long sigh. ‘You fared better than most,’ he agreed. ‘The magic pendant shielded your mind from the worst effects, but your fate and that of Fabian Grey were already linked and now they are more tangled than ever.
‘My guess is that when you consulted The Book of Prophecy you absorbed some of its powers. And it also made you more visible to the Pale Writers. They can sense your presence.’
Archie felt his blood turn cold. Hawke picked up his quill and resumed writing, a sign that the conversation was at an end. Archie closed the door behind him, leaving Hawke to his thoughts.
*
Archie agonised over what Hawke had told him for the rest of the day. What exactly did he mean about absorbing some of the book’s powers? Archie wondered if he would ever be the same again. He was walking past a bookcase in the West Gallery when his thoughts were interrupted.
‘Pssssssst!’ hissed a papery voice. ‘Over here.’
Archie glanced at the bookcase next to him.
‘No, not there. Over here!’
He spotted the thick red cover of the mystery book on the next shelf.
‘You again,’ he said. ‘You get about don’t you? How do you do it?’
‘Can’t tell you that,’ chuckled the book. ‘Tricks of the trade. I’ve got some more information for you.’
‘Do you know where my family are?’ asked Archie, excitedly.
‘Not exactly,’ rustled the book, ‘but I know someone who might be able to help you find them.’
‘Who?’
The book dropped its voice to a whisper. ‘The stone griffins,’ it said. ‘They are the keepers of magical secrets. They know more about magical books than anyone else. If your parents are trapped inside a magical book, they’d know which one.’
‘The bookend beasts?’ said Archie, remembering the fierce stone griffins that could come to life if the magical items they protected were threatened.
‘Yes,’ said the book.
Archie swallowed hard. He’d been lucky to escape with his life both times he’d encountered the beasts. Now, if he wanted to find out what had happened to his family, it looked like he’d have to take his chances a third time.
There was no time to lose. He knew that if he told his cousins they would want to come with him, but it was too dangerous. This was one thing he had to do on his own.
*
Archie took a flaming torch from its bracket and held it aloft in the passageway under the Aisle of White. The bookend beasts’ lair was behind the second door, the blue one. He reached out and felt for the invisible door handle, grasping it in his hand and turning it.
He took a deep breath and opened the door. On the previous occasion when he’d entered their lair he had no idea what he would be facing. But this time he did, and it wasn’t reassuring.
As he pushed the door open and stepped inside the frozen chamber, a cold blast of air hit his face. The icy air made him gasp as it hit his lungs. On the ground all around him, frost glittered like tiny diamonds scattered on the flagstone floor, and his feet crunched on the ice crystals as he edged his way forward.
Archie held up his torch and the light reflected off the high-ceilinged room. Somewhere he could hear water dripping, and icicles like stalagmites and stalactites had formed on the floor and the ceiling. Thin ribbons of grey mist swirled around his feet, created by the warmer air coming into contact with the frozen ground. Immediately ahead of him Archie could see a very large stone griffin.
The bookend beast stood motionless. It was eight feet tall and carved from a single slab of grey stone. Its giant eagle’s head had a vicious hooked beak and staring eyes. Below its neck it had the body of a lion with chiselled fur on its chest and flanks, and two huge feathered wings folded across its back.
As Archie stepped closer, the griffin’s eyes lit up with an amber light. With a noise like stone grinding on stone, the beast turned its head and fixed Archie with its steely gaze. A ripple of light pulsed through the creature and its body turned from cold stone to living flesh. Archie had seen the bookend beast come to life before but his legs still turned to jelly at the sight of it.
He swallowed hard.
‘Greetings, mighty bookend beast, guardian of magical books and keeper of secrets,’ he cried in a loud voice that echoed in the cold stone chamber. He knew that this was the correct way to address the ancient magical creatures. He’d read about it in his father’s magical reference book.
The beast’s voice when it spoke was a deep rumble that boomed off the walls.
‘Who are you who wakes me from my sleep and disturbs me in my lair?’ it thundered. It sniffed the air.
‘Another human!’ it roared angrily. ‘Have you come with your cloaking magic to try to steal from me again? I warned you last time that I would kill you if you returned!’
Archie remembered the footsteps in the frost. Whoever had crept into the beast’s lair had left very quickly and in fear for their life.
Archie realised he was in grave danger. The bookend beast could kill him with one blow from its mighty claws or freeze him with one blast of its icy breath. The griffin flexed its huge, razor-sharp talons.
‘Wait,’ cried Archie. ‘There’s been some sort of mistake! I’m Archie Greene. I’m an apprentice at the museum. I haven’t come to steal from you!’
‘Hmmmm,’ rumbled the griffin, bowing its head to get a better look at him. ‘Well, I can see you this time so perhaps you aren’t the thief after all.’
It fixed him with its amber eyes. ‘You look familiar. We bookend beasts have very long memories. You came here before seeking answers. You are the one that John Dee told us to expect.’
