by D D Everest
‘And the picture of the raven?’ said Archie.
‘The raven brought you a warning when it delivered Grey’s ring to you, and I was trying to warn you, too,’ she said.
‘But why all the secrecy?’ asked Bramble. ‘You could have talked to us any time you wanted.’
Graves’ smile vanished. ‘I suppose I do owe you an explanation for that,’ she said. ‘You’d better sit down.’
When they were all seated at the wooden bench, Graves told them that she knew all about the Alchemists’ Club rewriting the magical books.
‘Gideon told me what you were doing,’ she said. ‘All the heads of department knew but we agreed to let you get on with it. That way we didn’t have to report it to the magical authorities and you didn’t have the Magical League breathing down your necks. Writing magic is classified as a dangerous magical practice and against the Lores of Magical Restraint.
‘Everything was fine until The Book of Night was stolen. That cast a huge shadow. I’d known for some time that we had a traitor inside the museum. Whoever it is has been spying on us for a long time. They seemed to know our every move. They were leaking information to the Greaders, even before Katerina Krone arrived.
‘But I didn’t know who it was. I still don’t. That’s why I sent you the cryptic messages. I wanted to warn you, but I didn’t want the enemy to know what I suspected.’
She paused.
‘Whoever is behind this wanted Gideon out of the way. He was following some line of enquiry that made them very uncomfortable, so they got rid of him.
‘The reason I’m telling you now is that I believe they will try to get rid of me, too. That’s why I’m leaving tonight. It isn’t safe for me here any more. The Greaders are mustering their forces and soon they will be strong enough to try to take over the magical realm. They will be ruthless with those who oppose them.’
‘Where will you go?’ asked Bramble.
Graves gave a thin smile. ‘I’ll go into hiding. If the Greaders succeed in seizing power, the magical realm will need people like me to organise the resistance. I can do more to fight the Dark Flame if I’m still at liberty. And the Greaders are plotting something very dark indeed. Every day their ranks grow. The Black Dragon is spreading like an epidemic. People are frightened.’
‘Why don’t the museum elders do something to stop it?’ asked Archie.
Graves shook her head sadly. ‘I’m afraid it’s beyond the powers of the museum,’ she said. ‘Any one of us who made a stand would be overruled and removed from office like Gideon. There are powers at work here that you don’t understand.’
‘The Magical League itself,’ breathed Archie. The suspicion had been growing in his mind ever since Morgred had turned up at the asylum.
Graves nodded. ‘I fear so,’ she said. ‘The Dark Flame is very powerful and very persuasive for any one who has Greader sympathies. And I’m afraid there are many of those in positions of power. The magical realm will be overcome by dark magic unless someone stops them. Grey’s vision – it’s the only hope!’
‘We know,’ said Archie. ‘We’ve been searching and we’re so close to knowing it. We think we’ve got the final clue—’
There was a creaking sound from the other side of the room near the door.
‘What was that?’ demanded Graves. ‘I heard something.’ She paused, listening. ‘Over by the door! I can feel a presence.’
‘There’s someone there,’ she cried. ‘They’re using some sort of cloaking magic!
‘Spell of Hiding
Spell of stealth
Secret listener
Reveal yourself!’
As she uttered the last word they saw a cloaked figure standing by the door.
‘A spy!’ cried Graves. ‘Quick, grab him!’
But it was too late; the hooded figure had already opened the door and darted into the passageway, slamming it shut behind them. By the time Archie and the others reached the door and opened it, the cloaked figure was gone. They heard footsteps running up the spiral stairs.
‘Leave him,’ cried Graves. ‘You won’t catch him now – the revealing spell only lasts a few seconds. He’s using invisibility magic and he’ll have vanished again before you can catch up with him.’
‘But how?’ Bramble asked.
‘Snuffling blood makes a very potent invisibility potion,’ said Graves. ‘I think we know where the snufflings have been going now.’ She sighed. ‘At least that explains how the enemy always seemed to know what we were doing.’
‘I bet that’s what the Greaders have been using to hide the Black Dragon firemark, too,’ said Archie.
Graves’ face looked drawn. She looked at each one of them in turn.
‘The final battle of the flames is about to begin. I trust you to do what I have not – to find the secret to defeating the Dark Flame. I will do what I can to help you. By leaving tonight I will divert attention away from you. But it’s up to the Alchemists’ Club now. All our hopes rest with you.’
*
The four of them were thoughtful as they walked home. They felt the weight of responsibility on their shoulders. It was a new moon so there wasn’t much light. They had just left the courtyard outside Quill’s and were walking up Catte Street past the Bodleian Library when they heard a sound like crumbling masonry and some stones falling onto the pavement behind them.
Bramble looked up at the parapet. ‘Where did they come from?’ she said, leaning against the iron railings.
‘Must have fallen off one of the statues,’ said Thistle.
Bramble was still staring at the roof. ‘Wait a minute,’ she said, ‘there’s something missing. Look, up there, there’s a gap. I’m sure there used to be a gargoyle there.’
Archie looked where she was pointing. She was right. ‘It’s the stone dragon,’ he said. ‘It’s gone!’
‘It can’t have just gone,’ said Arabella. ‘Stone dragons don’t just wander off!’
‘You’re right,’ said Bramble, swallowing hard, ‘unless they aren’t stone any more. Look!’
They stared at the roof. Two angry red eyes stared back. They belonged to a large, heavily scaled reptile with a long snout and jaws full of razor-like teeth. Two wings were folded across its back.
‘What on earth is that?’ said Arabella.
‘A medieval fire drake,’ said Thistle, staring at the creature. ‘A dragon to you.’
As they watched they saw something else on the roof, a dark shadow beside the creature.
‘There’s someone up there with it!’ cried Arabella.
At that moment the creature opened its jaws and belched fire. They could see the cloaked figure crouching beside the beast. Something glinted in its hand. A knife. Archie recognised it.
‘It’s the Shadow Blade from Hawke’s office!’ he exclaimed.
‘What’s he doing?’ asked Bramble.
They watched as the hooded figure plunged the blade into the dragon’s chest. The wounded creature screamed with pain and launched itself off the roof.
The four children watched as it opened its wings, gliding through the air towards them.
‘Its heading straight for us,’ cried Archie. ‘Run!’
Bramble and Thistle ducked out of the way, but Arabella stood transfixed, unable to take her eyes off the dragon as it hurtled towards her. The dragon opened its jaws, belching out a plume of fire. In another second it would have incinerated Arabella, but at that moment Archie rugby-tackled her to the ground. The dragon passed just over their heads, missing them by inches, its fiery breath making the iron railings glow red-hot. As it did, they could see the gaping wound in its chest near its heart.
With a few powerful beats of its wings, the dragon soared off among the towers and spires of the Oxford skyline. Then it wheeled around in the sky to make another pass. As they stared after it, they saw a small dark shape of a bird dart in a circle around it. The dragon turned its head, its jaws snapping at the bird. But it was getting weaker. Its wing
beats slowed and it began to fall out of the sky.
The children watched the dragon spinning out of control towards the ground, its fiery breath lighting the Oxford night like flashes of lightning. Down it tumbled until it disappeared from sight. With a final scream it crashed into the River Thames.
They were too stunned to speak for a few seconds. When they glanced back at the rooftop, the cloaked figure had vanished.
Thistle was the first to recover. ‘What was that all about?’ he said still staring in the direction that the creature had fallen into the river.
‘Why bring it to life only to kill it?’ asked Bramble.
‘Someone is practising some very dark magic,’ said Archie. ‘And whoever it is is very nearby,’ he added, looking around anxiously. ‘And where did all these birds come from?’
A flock of black birds had landed on the roof of the Bodleian and were shrieking in their high-pitched voices.
‘They’re ravens,’ said Thistle. ‘You don’t normally see this many all together.’
‘Look for the raven’s coming,’ murmured Archie, under his breath.
One of the birds was sitting apart from the others.
The solitary raven ruffled its feathers and fixed him with its flinty-black eyes. It flew down and landed on the head of a statue nearby. Archie noticed that it had some white feathers among the black plumage of its head.
‘We meet again, Archie Greene,’ it said.
‘You’re the raven that brought the ring,’ Archie said.
The bird gave him a haughty look, putting its head on one side. ‘Yes, of course,’ it replied. ‘How many talking ravens do you know?’
A gentle breeze ruffled the raven’s feathers. It turned its head on one side again and bowed. Now that Archie saw it up close, he thought its flinty eyes were slightly different colours, and some of the feathers on its head were definitely white.
‘Gran was right – you’re Fabian Grey!’ exclaimed Archie, hardly able to contain himself.
The raven regarded him evenly. ‘Yes,’ it said, ‘or at least I am one part of Fabian Grey – for that is the curse that was put on me. Poor Roderick, Angelica, and Braxton, their lives were cut so short. But the Grimoire wanted me to suffer. While the others were cursed to die young, I was cursed with another burden. This burden that you see before you.’
‘Why didn’t you say who you were before?’ asked Archie.
‘Would you have believed me?’ asked the raven.
Archie thought for a moment. ‘Probably not,’ he agreed.
‘I thought as much. That’s why I was waiting for the right moment to reveal myself. I had to win your trust first.’
‘Why are you telling us now?’ asked Archie.
‘The enemy has what it has been seeking,’ said the raven.
‘Dragon’s blood,’ said Archie.
‘Yes.’
‘It was you we saw flying with the dragon just before it fell from the sky.’
‘I led it towards the river where it could do no more harm and I caught some of the beast’s blood,’ said the raven. Archie noticed it grasped a small silver phial in its claw.
The raven continued. ‘Time is short. We have work to do. I bring a warning. The Flame of Pharos is in great danger. You must act quickly if you are to save it.’
‘How do we know we can trust you?’ asked Arabella suspiciously.
The raven fluttered into the air and alighted on a ledge nearby. It ruffled its feathers and gave her a flinty stare. ‘I give you my word,’ it said. ‘And my word is my mark.’
Archie recognised the phrase. ‘That’s what it says on the gold ring you gave me,’ he said.
The bird bowed low to him, and then it bowed three more times to Bramble, Thistle and Arabella.
‘What happened to you?’ asked Archie.
‘It’s long story,’ said the raven. ‘But I will tell you what you need to know.
‘When I was imprisoned in the Tower of London, I befriended the ravens that live there. They brought me food, and I told them my story. Without them I would have starved.
‘As you see, I am cursed to spend part of my time as a raven. The change is brought on by the new moon, and lasts twenty-four hours. This I discovered when I was locked in the Tower. The Grimoire’s curse said that I would transform into the first creature I saw – and that was the raven that brought me my food. My raven form allowed me to escape from the Tower – but still I found myself in a prison of the flesh.’
The raven hopped closer. It fixed its flinty eyes on Archie.
‘As a man I have no memory of my previous life. I do not even know myself as Fabian Grey – but as a raven I remember everything.’
The bird hopped a little closer still and looked into Archie’s eyes. Archie could see the torment in its dark eyes. ‘And so I am cursed to live this double life. Once a month I change into a raven and know that whatever I do, when I transform back into a man I will have no memory of it. Do you know what it is like to wake up in a strange city and not know how you got there? He thinks he’s going mad, this other me. I leave him clues but he never knows what they mean or what he’s meant to do with them!’
As the raven spoke Archie felt a terrible sadness for its predicament.
‘Who is he this poor tormented man?’
‘I know him only as Fabian Grey,’ said the raven.
‘Isn’t there a spell that could lift the curse?’ Archie asked.
‘There is,’ said the raven. ‘I read it in a book a long time ago. It is a spell that would allow me to take on one or the other form permanently. But I cannot perform it as a raven and he does not remember.’
‘When this is all over, we’ll help you,’ said Archie, struck again by the raven’s sad plight.
‘But how have you lived so long?’ asked Thistle. ‘Was it the azoth in the fire?’
‘Yes,’ said the raven appraisingly. ‘I was drenched in it at the moment the Grimoire cursed me. It prolonged my life.’
Archie held up the scarlet cloak. ‘I think this is yours,’ he said.
The raven gazed at it in wonder. ‘Is the receipt still in it?’ it asked.
Archie took the piece of parchment from the pocket.
The raven’s eyes glinted in the light from the street lamp. ‘Thank you,’ it said, and took the parchment from Archie’s outstretched hand.
‘What will you do with it?’ asked Archie.
‘I will deliver it somewhere my human self will find it, in the hope that it rekindles some deep memory in him.’ The raven turned its head and looked at the roof of the Bodleian. ‘And I will send the ravens to watch over you. They will carry the warning. The rest is up to you.’
It flapped its wings. ‘Look for me when all hope has gone!’ it said, and soared into the air.
26
Where Shadows Dwell
That night Archie slept fitfully. He dreamed that he was a raven flying over the rooftops of Oxford pursued by a great snarling dragon.
The next morning he awoke with a terrible sense of foreboding. He roused his cousins but he was too agitated to wait for them.
‘I’ve got to go – sorry!’ he said, dashing out of the front door while they were still getting up.
He ran all the way into Oxford. When he reached the courtyard outside the Aisle of White, he went to the bookshop.
He knew something was wrong the moment he stepped through the door. The bell didn’t clang. Marjorie Gudge, Geoffrey Screech’s assistant, was sitting behind the counter. She’d been crying.
‘Where’s Mr. Screech?’ asked Archie urgently.
Marjorie blew her noise loudly into a handkerchief. ‘Gone,’ she sobbed.
‘Gone where?’ asked Archie.
‘To tell the elders.’
‘Why? What’s happened?’
She blew her nose again and waved her hand towards the black velvet curtain behind her.
‘It’s too awful. See for yourself!’ she wailed.
Archie’s
heart was beating fast. The last time he’d seen Marjorie this upset was when Greaders had broken into the bookshop. He pulled back the curtain and slipped through.
‘Hello?’ he said to the magical books that were usually there. But there was no reply. The bookcase was empty. There were always some magical books waiting to go to the museum. What could possibly have happened?
‘Where are the books?’ he called over his shoulder.
‘Apparently they weren’t safe here any more,’ sniffled Marjorie. ‘Motley Brown collected them an hour ago.’
Archie took the spiral stairs two at a time. When he reached the passageway at the bottom he raced past the first two doors and opened the third door. What he saw was almost too much to bear.
Old Zeb was sitting hunched over the workbench with his head in his hands. His shoulders were stooped.
Archie shivered. The room was cold. He’d never known it be other than warm. He looked at the old bookbinder in bewilderment.
‘What’s the matter?’ he asked. ‘What’s happened?’
Old Zeb looked up – his normally bright eyes had lost their sparkle. They looked dull and rheumy. He suddenly looked his age. He shook his head sadly from side to side.
‘It’s the Smithy.’
Archie crossed the room to the furnace against the wall. He touched it. It was cold. He opened the door and peered inside.
‘The Flame!’ he exclaimed.
Old Zeb shook his head again. He looked close to tears himself. ‘Gone,’ he said, his voice flat and breaking. ‘The Flame of Pharos has been extinguished.’
‘How?’ asked Archie.
‘Sabotage,’ said Old Zeb. ‘Someone deliberately put it out. Someone who knew how to quench it.’
‘Dragon’s blood!’
The old man nodded sadly.
So that was why the stone dragon had been brought to life and then killed – for its fresh blood. And that must have been why someone had taken Simon the salamander’s blood as well – but clearly it hadn’t been strong enough, perhaps because he wasn’t a real dragon. The same person must also have entered the bookend beast’s lair trying to get griffin’s breath but had been scared off.
