Chapter Ten:
The Six Musketeers and the Terrible Five
Science, the final of their six classes, met in a lab up on the second floor. The students gathered around a central table, but the majority of the room was taken up by lab stations with sinks and Bunsen burners. Tinted windows kept the sunlight streaming through the courtyard from damaging the millions of fascinating objects stored on the shelves and in the glass cabinets. Towards the front of the room was a large and handsome terrarium, a playground for the tutor’s toad familiar.
Rachel chose a seat with her friends. Turning slowly in a circle, she let her gaze fall over the entire classroom, taking everything in: crystal vials, shiny copper crucibles, jars containing dried flowers and feathers and scraps of colored light that bounced around with a soft zing. A full-sized skeleton of a horse stood in the back corner. Someone had thrown a saddle blanket over it. Two stuffed bats and a tarantula hung from the ceiling.
Drinking in new information gave her a way to keep her mind from fixating on why Dr. Mordeau hated her father. Rachel was extremely curious about why her math tutor hated her father, but no amount of speculation on her part was going to answer the question without more facts.
To the students’ delight, the tutor was the famous Crispin Fisher. Mr. Fisher was a family friend of the Griffins and one of the Six Musketeers—the group of students, led by James Darling, who defeated the Terrible Five at the Battle of Roanoke. Fisher himself had dueled one of the Terrible Five.
Mr. Fisher was a pleasant fellow with sandy hair and glasses who dressed in the black and orange of the alchemists. With the eager smile of an enthusiast, he assured them that when they were done with his fascinating class, they would all want to be alchemists. It was his dream that someday Raleigh Hall would be full, and the other Halls empty.
There was much more to alchemy, he explained, than merely turning lead into gold, though that could be done with great patience and time. Alchemy was the ancient Chinese art of putting magic into physical objects. The original ancient Chinese mainly put this magic into elixirs, but great strides had been made since then. All magical talismans—swords, grails, amulets of protection—were made by alchemy.
He then launched into a rambling description of what his course would cover. His voice droned on in a pleasant monotone. Rachel listened carefully, but she noticed many students were no longer paying attention. Like in Math, the non-Dare students were the ones who were serious about alchemy—the kids from Raleigh Hall. Even they seemed bored.
Siggy had begun to nod off, his mouth hanging open, when Yara Rahotep, a girl from Raleigh Hall, interrupted Mr. Fisher.
“Tell us about fighting the Terrible Five!” she cried in her thick Egyptian accent. She had a sweet, dazed expression, as if she was never quite sure where she was.
“Yes! Tell us! Tell us!” clamored the rest of the students. Rachel clamored with them. She knew these stories. She had heard Mr. Fisher and Mr. and Mrs. Darling tell them at Yule parties, but she never tired of hearing them again.
Mr. Fisher glanced at the clock on the wall. “Well…I am not sure I should take the time…”
“We know the story. I had more relatives than I can count fighting in the Battle of Detroit or the Battle of Roanoke or the Battle of Spaghetti-Whatever. They’ve told me more than any sane person would ever want to know. But there are students here who grew up in the mundane world,” Zoë Forrest drawled. She sat with her chair leaning back and her feet resting on the table, chewing on the long scarlet braid that hung down from the side of her head. “They don’t know about the Terrible Years.”
“Oh…Good point.” He crossed to a glass cabinet and removed some jars as he spoke. “When sorcerers go truly bad, people become afraid to kill them. This is because some sorcerers refuse to die. Either they have hidden their life outside their body, like Koschei the Deathless. Or they have made a deal with dark powers to bring them back when they perish, like Aleister Crowley. Or perhaps they have found a way to make their bodies repair themselves, after their spirit is driven forth, such as Simon Magus. Or they have separated their soul from their shadow because they know the secrets of The Book of Going Forth By Day, like Morgana le Fay. Or, they are just plain scary like Baba Yaga. Instead of killing them, the Parliament of the Wise turns them to stone.
“About forty years ago, an archiomancer named Aaron Marley—who happened to be the great nephew of Ebenezer Scrooge’s old partner, Jacob Marley—discovered the lost secret of turning those who had been turned to stone back to flesh. He revived the five worst sorcerers of all history: The aforenamed Simon Magus, Morgana le Fay, Baba Yaga, Koschei the Deathless, and Aleister Crowley. Hence the nickname the Terrible Five.”
Mr. Fisher placed the jars on the counter beside the first lab station. By squinting, Rachel could make out bark, a blue butterfly, wool, and gold dust.
“Marley and the Terrible Five joined forces. They forged a cabal devoted to destroying the world. This cabal was known as Veltdammerung—or, in English, the Twilight of the World. There were three prophecies about the Veltdammerung.” Mr. Fisher sat on a stool beside the jars. “One predicted their rise to power, which came true; one foresaw their gaining control of some talisman called the Heart of Dreams, that never did happen; and one claimed that they would be undone by a boy named James Darling.
“They sent a smoky-winged creature to slay the Darling family. Only, somehow, the six-year-old James survived—which is how these things always work. Prophecies can be altered. Universally, however, committing an act of violence to change them seems merely to hasten their arrival. Look at Oedipus or Perseus or Paris.
“About ten years later, Aaron found out about a meeting of the Agents. He had friends in the Wisecraft, so he knew the date of their annual dinner. The Veltdammerung took the gathering by surprise. In one fell swoop, they killed everyone who could have stopped them. Or so they thought.
“With the help of the Morthbrood—sorcerers who were tired of obeying the rules of the Parliament of the Wise and welcomed an excuse to practice black magic—the Terrible Five set about conquering the world—starting with the Wise. The Terrible Five had other servants, too. Supernatural servitors. The entire group of them—Marley, the Terrible Five, the Morthbrood, and their other servants—comprised the Veltdammerung.”
Wulfgang Starkadder raised his hand. “Was the Terrible Five’s Morthbrood the same Morthbrood organization that terrorized England in Morgana le Fay’s day?”
“Um…” The Science tutor blinked. “I…don’t know. I think they were just named after the earlier Morthbrood. But there are secret covens of black magicians that have hidden from the authorities throughout the ages. These all rushed to the side of the Terrible Five.”
“What happened?” Siggy asked, fascinated. “Did everyone die?”
“Obviously not, Bird Brain.” Zoë Forrest rolled her eyes. “Some of us are still here.”
“Hey, that’s Dragon Brain to you,” Sigfried shot back, grinning. Zoë’s black lips twitched with amusement.
Mr. Fisher gave them both a gently reproachful look. “They killed a great many, terrorizing the World of the Wise. But we students who were in the Young Sorcerers League at the time did some research. We were able to discover how each of them had been captured the first time, except for Koschei the Deathless. A few of us older students joined together and vowed to stop them. People called us the Six Musketeers—because there were six of us to counter the six of them—the Terrible Five and Marley.” He faltered, and sadness came over his features. “Or rather, we were five older students and one younger sister of two of our members.”
“Wendy MacDannan,” Rachel whispered softly, but not softly enough to keep Mr. Fisher from hearing her.
He swallowed and nodded. “Wendy MacDannan.”
“Who was she?” Siggy finished folding his fourth paper airplane. Every time he completed one, he let it fly under the table, where Lucky burned it in mid-air. So far, they had manage
d this without singeing the other students.
“The MacDannans—there is one in your year—” Mr. Fisher looked around, but Ian was not in this class, “are descended from the Selkie. They are a strongly magical clan, prone to the Second Sight. Wendy, the younger sister of Finn and Ellyllon, was blessed with this gift. Thanks to her visions, we discovered where Koschei hid his heart.”
“Wasn’t it in a duck?” called Arjuna Pandava, a boy from India with a faraway look in his keen eyes.
The tutor shook his head. “In a needle, in an egg, inside a duck, inside a hare, inside an iron chest on the disappearing island of Buyan.”
“That’s…pretty hidden,” Sigfried snorted, amused.
Zoë snorted, too. “Who puts a duck inside a hare?”
Mr. Fisher nodded. “Ellyllon is friends with the mermaids. She talked them into taking her to Buyan, where she beguiled the three brothers who lived there—the Northern, Western, and Eastern winds—with her dancing. Once she destroyed the needle…” Mr. Fisher paused, looking a bit sheepish, “I vanquished Koschei in a duel.”
“But what happened to Wendy? I mean the one in your story. Not the one in our class.” asked Ameka Okeke, the daughter of an Orkoiyot, a supreme chieftain of the Nandi people of Kenya. She had dark brown skin and beautiful, slanted eyes much like Rachel’s, courtesy of her Chinese mother. Rumor had it she was the Freshman class’s best female soccer player.
Mr. Fisher’s expression faltered. “She…she tried to learn more by journeying into dreams, the realm from which conjured things come. The Terrible Five attacked her there, trapping part of her in dreams forever. She…was never the same after that. The Wendy in your class, Wendy Darling, is her niece and namesake.”
“Is she dead?” Siggy pressed. “The old one, I mean.”
Mr. Fisher shook his head. “No. She is still with us. She is just…”
“Crazy,” muttered Wulfgang Starkadder.
Mr. Fisher glared at him but did not contradict him. “She is…trapped at the age of fifteen, even though she is an adult now. She dreams even when she is awake.”
There was an awkward silence. Mr. Fisher cleared his throat and returned to the subject of his class syllabus. Again, Rachel paid close attention. Again, the rest of the class, except for Astrid Hollywell, began to drift off. Siggy went back to folding airplanes. Ameka Okeke drew funny stick-figure pictures of her fellow students, causing those to either side of her giggle. Joy O’Keefe slipped her day-glo pink photo album under the table and showed it to Nastasia. The princes clearly wished to pay attention to Mr. Fisher, but she was too polite to stop Joy because that would have meant interrupting the tutor.
Ameka waved her hand. “Sir! Tell us about the Six Musketeers!”
“Well.” Mr. Fisher paused in the act of placing more jars on the lab counter. “There was me, of course. I am the alchemist in the group. You already know that. I made the shields we used to stop Morgana’s deadly fire blast and the dagger that James used to kill Simon Magus. And I made our tarnhelm and tarnkappe. I used the stories about the original ones—the ones that came from the gods—as my models. Mine came out pretty well, if I don’t say so myself. Though it was extraordinarily difficult work.
“Then, there’s James. He’s the most famous member of our team. You’ve probably heard of him—due to the James Darling, Agent pulp adventure comics, if nothing else. He was our canticler. When he speaks, everything listens to him. He can make rocks talk, and rain sing.
“James came up with the idea of fighting back. Everyone else had given up three years before, when Aaron Marley and his evil cronies killed the Wisecraft Agents—just in case that isn’t clear for some of you newcomers: this meant that the entire law enforcement staff of the World of the Wise had been murdered. We had no police force left—but James said: ‘What do the adults have on us except a few more years of school? We have the resources of Roanoke Academy. Maybe a lot of children can do what a few adults can’t.’”
“He must have been quite brave,” the princess said approvingly.
Mr. Fisher nodded. “He was. Of course, the Darling family has a history of remarkable children. James’s grandfather and his great aunt and uncle were the ones that put an end to the stealing of children by Pan’s son, Peter. James had been raised hearing about their adventures in Neverland. It gave him faith that we could do what needed to be done.”
“Is he really like the guy in the comics?” Arjuna asked eagerly.
Mr. Fisher smiled sheepishly. “Yes and no. He is smart and athletic. But he can’t leap rushing rivers, cantrip fifty people at once, or fly a broom at two hundred miles an hour through a snowstorm.”
Arjuna looked disappointed. Wulfgang snickered. Rachel lost track of the conversation for a moment, caught up in the logistics of flying so quickly through blinding snow.
“How long ago did all this happen?” Sigfried was asking, when Rachel looked up again.
“The Battle of Roanoke took place twenty-five years ago, this coming April. But, back to what I was saying,” Mr. Fisher tapped on the nearest jar, causing the gold dust within to dance, “Finn MacDannan—or Red Ryder, the lead singer of the band Bogus, as he is known to the music fans among you—is the cocky one. He was our enchanter. There is nothing that man cannot do with music. When he plays, people can’t keep from dancing, even when he doesn’t use magic. But he had an obnoxious sense of humor.
“Scarlett Mallory, who later married Finn, is brilliant. In the entire four hundred years plus history of Roanoke Academy, she is the only person who ever lived in all seven dormitories. Scarlett moved every year. She mastered all seven of the Sorcerous Arts. The only student I have seen come even close is Miss Griffin’s older sister. Upon graduation, Sandra Griffin was presented with rings of mastery for five of the Arts taught here.”
The other students looked at Rachel, who blushed, very pleased. She loved when people praised Sandra. Still, she could not help wondering, if Sandra was so good at everything, why was she, Rachel, not a better sorceress?
“Let’s see,” he counted on his fingers, “Wendy, myself, James, Finn, and Scarlett. Ah, right. The last Musketeer was Ellyllon MacDannan, our conjurer and a friend to mermaids. A strange young woman. She used to dance on the tables in the dining hall. Instead of shooing her off, the proctors would pull out their instruments and play for her. She was…quite provocative.” He paused, as if caught up in a memory. “Nowadays, she is Mrs. James Darling.”
“How could kids do all that?” Joy O’Keefe asked.
“They were college students,” Rachel pointed out.
“Even college students,” Joy looked inquiringly toward Mr. Fisher, “against such powerful sorcerers?”
“Who else was there?” Mr. Fisher shrugged. “We were the front line. We could give up and die, or we could go forward. We chose forward.”
Yara asked dreamily, “So James married Ellyllon, and Finn married Scarlett. That’s so romantic. Would you have married Wendy MacDannan, if she had not been injured?”
All the humor fled from Mr. Fisher’s eyes. He spoke quietly. “I do not feel that I should answer that question.”
There was a pause. Students squirmed. Mr. Fisher forced himself to smile, “Back to the Terrible Five. Each of us took on one of them. James fought Simon Magus. Scarlett Mallory defeated Morgana le Fay. Finn MacDannan destroyed Crowley. Ellyllon and her mermaids overcame Baba Yaga, and I dueled Koschei and won.” He looked amazed, as if his victory still surprised him.
Siggy leaned forward. “This Koschei the Deathless was bad news?”
“Oh, was he! A horrible, withered old man. He dressed in his own hair. Who does that, I ask you? He could kill people by pointing his bony finger at them.” Mr. Fisher strode back and forth, pantomiming several cantrip gestures, as if recalling the fight. “It was an amazing duel, the best I have ever fought! Every spell coming from his wand was lethal! He could kill all living things in a ten foot radius. He could even kill the wind and make the air st
ill for a week!”
“So you defeated the baddest of them all?” Siggy asked. “Ace!”
“Yeah.” A grin spread slowly across the alchemist’s face. “Yes, I guess I did!”
• • •
“It’s driving me crazy.” Valerie rubbed her temples, as she sat on the bench in the walled garden. The scent of wisteria perfumed the air. The water falling from the cherub’s trumpet fountain gurgled. Siggy, Nastasia, and Salome were with them. “I keep thinking I’ve seen a guy like you described…the guy who wanted to kill me.” She shuddered. “Or whatever that scarab thing would have done to me. But I can’t remember where.”
Rachel shuddered, too, but for a different reason. The idea of not remembering disturbed her. She knew other people could not do what she did, but knowing in the abstract and watching someone suffer from forgetfulness were entirely different.
“No matter what, though!” Valerie pounded her fist on her thigh, looking both fierce and impishly cute, something Rachel noted that Siggy noticed. “I am going to get to the bottom of this. My father was the best detective on the Kennebunkport police force. He taught me quite a bit before he…I am going to figure out who this guy was, why he attacked me, and why this man said the ‘gift’ was from my father.” She spun her pencil around her hand and caught it, stabbing it against the bench. The graphite point snapped.
“Can’t get to the Internet on this island,” she continued, pushing her glasses back up on her nose. “Drives me crazy. Though the World of the Wise isn’t on the web. So if he is a Wise guy, I couldn’t trace him that way.”
“Wise guy, oh that’s funny.” Salome was buffing her nails, making them shine. “Not that I haven’t heard it before…but with you, it takes on an additional Mobbish meaning.”
Valerie’s nose crinkled with amusement. “I’ve written my friend Wally back home with a list of searches I want performed. He and I worked together for two years at the Seashore Trolley Museum—home of the world’s oldest and largest collection of mass transit vehicles. Bet you all were dying to know that. And now I have made your day complete. I am happy to have helped.
The Unexpected Enlightenment of Rachel Griffin (Books of Unexpected Enlightenment Book 1) Page 11
