Fyre

by Angie Sage

  Septimus looked down from the ladder. “Um, Marcia,” he said. “I wonder if Julius could come with me?”

  “Whatever for?” Marcia asked.

  Septimus felt bad about what he was going to say, but he told himself it was actually the truth. “I’d just feel happier, that’s all. It’s hard to explain.”

  Marcia had never heard Septimus talk like that. It worried her.

  “Yes, of course. Now, hurry, hurry!” Marcia watched Septimus climb up the wall and drop down the other side, avoiding the broken ladder. He was followed by Julius Pike, who had done the very same thing in his time as an Apprentice. With the backyard to herself, Marcia fretted. She hated waiting but there was nothing else to be done.

  Septimus and the ghost of Julius Pike hurried along Wizard Way toward the Palace. The warmth of the sun and the spring tweeting of birds made Septimus’s spirits rise: soon all would be back to normal. He had no doubt that the Capsule would hold the Wizards securely until Jenna got there. Then all she had to do was say the Committal—which, knowing Jenna, she would have been practicing all night—then the Wizards would be back in the ring and Marcellus could DeNature it in the Fyre. It could all happen that very day, he thought. And he was really looking forward to seeing the Fyre with Marcia. It would be good to have no more secrets. Septimus pushed to the back of his mind the thought of Ernold and Edmund. Right then he did not want to think about that.

  They headed across the Palace lawns toward the Palace landing stage, where Septimus could see Sarah, Silas and Beetle waiting. Beetle and Silas were shading their eyes against the glare of the sun and Sarah was jumping up and down, waving. Septimus knew that Nicko’s boat must be in sight. He raced the last hundred yards to the landing stage and saw Jannit Maarten’s supply boat speeding toward it, dancing through the sparkling water. Nicko was windswept and smiling at the helm, Jenna and Simon leaning out, waving.

  Septimus turned to Julius with relief. “Jenna’s back,” he said. “It’s going to be okay.”

  Unconcerned about the safety of royalty, the ghost was staring at Beetle. “Why is the Chief Hermetic Scribe not in the Manuscriptorium?” he asked.

  Septimus remembered that Julius Pike had a reputation for being picky about protocol. It seemed a little misplaced right then. “A Chief Scribe doesn’t have to always be at the Manuscriptorium—does he, Beetle?” Septimus raised his voice to include Beetle in the conversation.

  Beetle turned and saw the unfamiliar ExtraOrdinary Wizard ghost approaching. The first-time greeting etiquette applied also to Chief Hermetic Scribes. Beetle bowed politely.

  “O. Beetle Beetle, Chief Hermetic Scribe at your service, ExtraOrdinary.”

  “Julius Pike, at yours,” said the ghost impatiently.

  “I trust you are well?” asked Beetle.

  “As well as a—oh, for goodness’ sake!” spluttered Julius. “I’m well—which is more than you or anyone here will be if you don’t get back to the Manuscriptorium right now.”

  “What?” Beetle looked shocked.

  “Chief Scribe. I really don’t know what you think you are doing, leaving the main exit from the Bolt unsupervised by yourself at a time like this.”

  Beetle’s jaw dropped. “Main exit? In the Manuscriptorium?”

  “Where else would it be?” snapped Julius.

  “I—in the backyard of Number Sixty-Seven,” stammered Beetle.

  “Does an old privy hut look like a main exit to you?” asked the ghost scathingly.

  “No . . . but . . . oh, sheesh. Where is it? Where in the Manuscriptorium, I mean?”

  Shocked, Julius Pike realized that no one knew about the main exit. “There’s a trapdoor at the back of the Vaults,” he said.

  “Where?” asked Beetle.

  “I will show you,” said Julius. “There is no time to lose.”

  37

  EXITS

  A flustered Foxy peered through the Manuscriptorium door—the LockDown was really spooking him.

  Password? he mouthed at Beetle. Beetle spoke into the hidden speaking tube beside the door and the password whispered through the Front Office. Trembling, Foxy UnLocked the door and let his Chief in, along with a very disheveled Princess and an unfamiliar ExtraOrdinary Wizard ghost.

  “Hi, Foxy,” said Jenna. And then, “Marissa. What are you doing here?”

  Marissa shrugged. “Oh, you know. Stuff. Like waiting for Beetle.” She giggled. “Hello, Beetle.”

  Jenna was pleased to see that Beetle did not look particularly thrilled to see Marissa.

  “Hello, Marissa. Hey, Foxy, is everything okay?” Beetle asked anxiously.

  Foxy didn’t think anything was okay at all, but he knew what his boss meant. “Um, yeah.”

  “We missed an entrance,” said Beetle, striding past Marissa. “We have to find it right now.”

  “But we Locked all the entrances that were in the book, honest,” said Foxy.

  “It wasn’t in the book,” said Beetle. “I didn’t know about this one when I wrote the protocol.”

  “Oops-ee,” said Marissa.

  Beetle stopped at the door that led from the Front Office into the Manuscriptorium. “Okay, Jenna?” he said. “We better get straight down there.”

  “Hey, can I come?” said Marissa.

  “No,” said Beetle as he and Jenna hurried into the Manuscriptorium.

  “Oh, after you,” said Foxy as Marissa pushed by him and barged after Beetle.

  Beetle set off between the rows of tall desks, trailing Jenna, Marissa, Foxy and the increasingly anxious ghost of Julius Pike.

  “Princess, Chief Scribe,” said the ghost. “You are putting yourselves in great danger. We must wait for the ExtraOrdinary.”

  “I could go with Beetle instead,” said Marissa. “Then Jenna could go home. I could easily do the whatever-it-is. Couldn’t I, Beetle?”

  “No,” Beetle and Jenna said together.

  To everyone’s surprise, the agitated ghost suddenly took a turn to the right and began to Pass Through a row of desks. In Julius’s day the desks had been arranged differently and he was forced to tread the old aisles. “Princess,” he called as he veered rapidly away from them, “you must wait!”

  Beetle, Jenna and Marissa reached the concealed door in the bookcase at the back of the Manuscriptorium and the ghost emerged spluttering from a nearby desk.

  “Princess, hear me, I beg you. They gain strength with every second,” said Julius. “Septimus told me you survived one encounter—which was very fortunate—but do not assume you will survive another. This time they are unlikely to just stand there and politely listen to you.”

  Beetle hesitated. He hadn’t thought of that. He looked at Jenna. “Perhaps we should wait for Marcia.”

  “No!” said Jenna. “This is our only chance. If we hurry we can be waiting for them when they come out of the Bolt and we can surprise them. Anyway, I’ve got a Protection Charm.” Jenna opened her hand to show a small Shield Charm that Marcia had given her a while back. She smiled. “It’s worked so far.”

  Julius Pike snorted derisively. “A speck of ice in a furnace.”

  Jenna put on what she now thought of as her Queen voice. “Julius, I refuse to discuss this any more. It is my duty to do whatever I can to protect the Castle. Beetle; let’s go.”

  “Yep. Foxo, go to the Front Office. Septimus went to fetch Marcia. When they arrive bring them down to the Vaults. Fast!”

  “Okay, Chief.”

  Marissa watched the concealed door in the bookshelves close with a quiet click behind Beetle, Jenna and the ghost. Grumpily, she followed Foxy back to the Front Office, plonked herself down in the big chair by the desk and began doodling rude words in the Day Book. Marissa was very annoyed. She had spent the most boring night ever with a load of geeks, only for Beetle to snub her. She hoped Jenna’s stupid Protection Charm was rubbish. It would serve her right.

  Foxy, who was a little scared of Marissa, went to the front door and stared anxiously out i
nto Wizard Way. A group of Printer’s Apprentices hurrying along to work saw Foxy’s long nose squashed against the glass in the door and made rude faces. Foxy returned the compliment. Everything outside seemed so normal, thought Foxy, and it was such a lovely morning. Surely, he thought, nothing could be really bad when the spring sun was shining so brightly.

  But Julius Pike knew better. As Beetle led the way down the steeply sloping passageway that went to the Vaults, the rushlights flickering as he and Jenna ran past, Julius became increasingly upset—the Princess was heading toward certain death and it was all his fault. He should have gone back and informed the ExtraOrdinary Wizard of the missed main exit, not blurted it out to a couple of impulsive teenagers, which was what the Princess and the Chief Hermetic Scribe were. And now the reckless teens were hurtling down the tunnel to the Vaults with apparently no more concern than if they were late for lunch.

  Julius did not give up. “Stop, stop!” he urged, rushing along the snaking twists and turns of the tunnel as it headed sharply downward. Jenna and Beetle took no notice. Sometimes, thought Julius, being a ghost was incredibly frustrating. He longed to race ahead, block the tunnel and tell them to act sensibly, but he could do nothing except beg them to stop.

  Jenna and Beetle had now reached the long, steep flight of steps that went down to the Vaults. Julius’s hopes were raised when he saw that the Chief Scribe had stopped for a moment. Maybe he was, at last, seeing sense. But to Julius’s disgust, all he did was to reach out and take the Princess’s hand, and then lead her down the steps—to her doom, the ghost was convinced.

  The ancient door to the Vaults, with its wide slabs of oak studded with nails, was at the foot of the steps and it was, to Julius’s relief, firmly closed. As Jenna and Beetle reached it, Julius made one last plea.

  “Princess, leave now, I beg you!”

  Jenna wheeled around angrily. The ghost was stopping her concentrating on the Committal. “Just shut up and go away,” she hissed.

  Julius Pike looked aghast. The manners of the young were shocking. No Princess would have ever spoken to an ExtraOrdinary Wizard like that in his Time—especially not to a ghost. Ghosts were always treated with respect. No wonder the Castle was such a mess. He saw the Chief Scribe squeeze the Princess’s hand and give her an encouraging glance. Then Jenna pushed open the door to the Vaults.

  And screamed.

  Standing behind the door, as if waiting for her, were Ernold and Edmund Heap. Wretched, ragged, hollow-eyed, bruised and battered, they stood holding on to each other for support. Who knows what, if anything, the two Heaps were conscious of at that moment. They were now thirty-eight hours into their InHabitation and during that time had been forced to run to the Port and back through the most punishing terrain. The very few people who have been rescued from a Consuming InHabitation—one that is designed to end with the exhaustion of the body rather than mere continued use—have reported that there is a moment when the mind becomes aware that it is on the verge of total occupation and makes a last, desperate stand against its invader.

  And it was this moment that had arrived for Edmund and Ernold. The sight of Jenna once again opening a door to them brought back memories of when they had first seen her at the Palace, and stirred a last-chance rebellion. Now, for a few desperate moments, they found the strength to fight the Ring Wizards.

  The ghost of Julius Pike watched, amazed, as Jenna stood her ground in front of the two desperate-looking tramps. He realized now that they were identical twins—two wretched, exhausted men who were bravely surviving against the Darke Wizards. The ghost watched Jenna take the gold circlet from her head and offer it out in both hands to the men. Terrified, Julius waited for the Darke Wizards to pounce—surely they would not allow this opportunity to destroy the Princess to pass. But no, somehow their victims were still holding out. Julius saw the two men wrap their arms around each other’s shoulders and stare at the Princess as if willing her on.

  And so, looking deep into the eyes of her uncles, Jenna began the Committal.

  Julius was impressed; the words flowed easily and fluently, and as Jenna moved through the words, both the ghost and Beetle felt that time itself had slowed down. Neither dared move. They watched as Jenna held herself utterly still, all her concentration poured into the words she was speaking. The Heaps, too, were immobile, each trying to hold on to his mind as he struggled to keep the last glimpse of consciousness that would allow him to stand against the Ring Wizards for a few precious seconds more. But the stillness belied a huge tension of opposing forces, perfectly balanced for that moment, like a tug-of-war rope that is still only because the two teams are evenly matched.

  Julius did not know the exact words of the Committal, but he knew the pattern that ancient Incantations took, and he could tell that Jenna was now heading toward the end. But both he and Beetle could also tell that the Heaps were nearing the end of their strength. Silently they urged Jenna on, Julius waiting for the Keystone word that would signal the beginning of the end of the Committal and render the Wizards powerless. The ExtraOrdinary Wizard ghost knew all 343 possible Keystone words and, increasingly anxiously, he waited for one of them.

  Suddenly, Jenna stopped speaking. Julius waited for her to continue—it was dangerous to pause for too long. But Jenna stayed silent and Julius realized with horror that Jenna thought she had finished.

  The Heaps’ eyes began to roll.

  Jenna waited for the Committal to work.

  The Heaps’ fists began to clench.

  Julius Pike could stand it no longer. “Run!” he yelled. “For pity’s sake—run!”

  Beetle grabbed Jenna’s hand and pulled her away. Jenna looked shocked. It hadn’t worked. It hadn’t worked. Why? She had remembered every word right. She knew she had.

  To the accompaniment of groans from Edmund and Ernold, Beetle and Jenna tore up the seemingly endless steps. It was like one of Beetle’s nightmares. He ran as fast as he could, aware that he and Jenna were in full view of the Wizards, presenting what must have been the easiest target they had ever had. At any moment he expected them to be felled by a Thunderflash or worse. Up, up they ran, and suddenly they were at the top, around the corner and leaning breathless against the wall.

  “Breath . . . back,” panted Jenna, cramming her circlet back on her head.

  Beetle nodded, unable to speak. He had the most terrible stitch in his side. As he fought for breath, Jenna peered around the corner. She turned back and grinned, holding her arms out and making pincer movements with her hands.

  Down in the doorway, two giant scorpion claws held Edmund and Ernold Heap prisoner; beside them lay two snapped Volatile Wands.

  Beetle and Jenna crashed into the Manuscriptorium. “Foxy, get everyone out!” Beetle yelled.

  Foxy didn’t need telling twice. Thirty seconds later Marissa, Partridge, Romilly and Moira Mole were outside. “I’m taking Jenna to the Wizard Tower for her own safety,” said Beetle. “I suggest you all come too.”

  “Forget it,” snapped Marissa. “I’ve got better things to do,” and she headed off to Gothyk Grotto.

  Beetle headed up Wizard Way, pulling Jenna behind him. “Beetle, wait,” said Jenna, who had seen Septimus and Marcia hurrying up Wizard Way. “There’s Sep and Marcia. We have to tell them.”

  “No!” said Beetle. “It’s not safe.”

  “I’ll tell them,” said Foxy, determined to be brave. “You go on ahead.”

  “We’ll all tell them,” said Partridge. “Come on, Foxy.”

  As Jenna and Beetle hurtled through the Great Arch they overtook the ghost of Alther Mella, who was herding Merrin and Nursie across the Courtyard in the manner of a shepherd rounding up two particularly stupid sheep. He watched Jenna and Beetle disappear into the Wizard Tower and heard hurried footsteps behind him. Moments later Marcia and Septimus, along with an assortment of scribes, came pounding through the Great Arch. As soon as they were in, Marcia took off her amulet and pressed it into a small indentation besid
e the Arch. The pitted old Barricade came rumbling down through the middle of the Great Arch, Sealing the Courtyard.

  Edmund and Ernold Heap dragged themselves up the long, steep steps from the Vaults. Behind them lay a badly damaged scorpion, its pincers mangled and burned.

  The Ring Wizards were becoming angry—their hosts were putting up much more of a fight than they had expected. What the Wizards had not accounted for was that Edmund and Ernold Heap were identical twins. All through the nightmarish trek along the Bolt, if one weakened the other encouraged him onward; in this way the Heaps had managed to keep going far longer than would have been possible if two unrelated Wizards had been InHabited. But the Heap twins had used their very last ounce of energy in protecting Jenna and now, as they fell out of the concealed door and ricocheted through the desks of the Manuscriptorium like two slow-motion pinballs, they were at the end of their endurance—and the Ring Wizards were at the end of their patience. The twins were hurled through the flimsy door that separated the Manuscriptorium from the Front Office, smashed into the stacks of papers piled up by the window and thrown through the front window.

  Edmund and Ernold Heap lay crumpled on the pavement in front of the Manuscriptorium, sprinkled with rainbow shards of glass. A few passersby rushed over to help—but they stopped dead when a green mist began to swirl out from the bodies of the Heaps and rise up to form two pillars at least ten feet tall. Recognizing the Darke Magyk for what it was, people ran to the Wizard Tower for help only to find, to their dismay, that the Barricade was down. They hurried home and locked their doors.

  But two visitors, Vilotta Bott and Tremula Finn, who had just arrived on the night Barge for the Magyk of the Castle tour, stayed to watch. The tour had not been going well. The Wizard Tower was unaccountably shut; not even the Courtyard was open. In the fabled Wizard Way most of the shops were closing, rather than opening, and now, to cap it all, the tour guide had run off.