by D D Everest
What did Hawke mean by the same fate as Grey? Was there something besides the Great Fire, something even darker?
‘Don’t be such an old worrywart, Gideon,’ said Gloom. ‘If history teaches us anything, it is that we can get stuck in the past. It is time for magic to move on. Besides,’ he added, ‘we don’t have a choice. Amos Roach is back.’
There was more murmuring among the elders.
‘Roach?’ Brown sounded alarmed.
‘It’s true,’ said Graves. ‘We have been tracking him. He has been seen in Oxford.’
Amos Roach was a notorious Greader who had been an associate of Arthur Ripley when he was head of Lost Books and had been linked with the plot to snatch the Terrible Tomes twelve years earlier. He had disappeared shortly after.
‘There are rumours that he is part of a secret network of Greaders,’ said Graves, ‘and that he was responsible for that terrible business in Prague and Edinburgh. So we have to seize this opportunity. The children are the only way to restore the Book of Charms and protect the museum.’
‘But you know what happened the last time someone tried writing magic,’ objected Hawke. ‘The same thing could happen again.’
‘Darchemy?’ gasped Graves.
‘Yes,’ said Hawke.
In the passageway outside, the five children exchanged anxious looks.
Hawke was still talking. ‘Barzak had the Golden Circle when he was an apprentice. So did Hecate and the writers of the other Terrible Tomes.’
Archie’s stomach dropped through the floor. He had just remembered where he’d first seen the Golden Circle firemark. It had been on Barzak’s clawed hand when the dark warlock had confronted Archie in the crypt.
Hawke was still talking. ‘Until now the threat we have faced has been a Greader attack on the museum. But what if a new darchemist emerged, someone who could write dark magic? Or what if one of the children were to start writing dark magic, even by accident?’
‘I told you it was dangerous,’ mouthed Arabella.
But Archie wasn’t taking any notice of her. He was too startled by what he’d just heard. The voice in the dark had said Archie could be the next great darchemist – and if the elders knew, they’d make him leave the museum. Archie couldn’t take that chance.
Gloom coughed. ‘But if the magic in The Book of Charms isn’t rewritten, then the spells protecting the museum will fail. You said it yourself, Gideon. The Flame has chosen these five apprentices for their magical talents. We must assist them in every way. I propose you let me assess their magical talents so we can make an informed decision.’
‘I agree with Orpheus,’ said Brown. ‘If they have special gifts, then they should be encouraged.’
‘Very well,’ said Graves. ‘You may assess their magical ability.’
‘Excellent,’ said Gloom. ‘I will begin immediately. I must confess that Archie Greene is the one who interests me most.’
Archie felt the colour rise to his cheeks. There was a sound of people standing up.
‘They’re coming out,’ whispered Rupert. ‘Quick, let’s get out of here!’
8
Orpheus Gloom
‘You are to report to the Scriptorium,’ Old Zeb informed Archie when he arrived at the mending workshop the next day.
Bramble, Thistle, Rupert and Arabella were already there.
‘What do you think he’ll test us on?’ asked Arabella anxiously.
‘Who knows?’ said Rupert. ‘But I imagine he will want to see if we have what it takes to write magic.’
‘We wouldn’t have the firemarks if we didn’t,’ reasoned Archie, trying to sound upbeat. ‘And maybe we will learn something useful from the tests. Gloom does work for the Royal Society of Magic, after all. He must be pretty knowledgeable.’
‘Good thinking, Arch,’ said Thistle. ‘If we ask the right questions, Gloom will tell us what we need to do to write magic.’
‘But what if one of us turns out to be a darchemist?’ said Arabella, voicing Archie’s deepest fear.
The question hung awkwardly in the air.
As they waited outside, they heard voices coming down the stairs from the direction of Hawke’s office.
‘The Scriptorium has been neglected. It is time the magical world regained its confidence,’ said Gloom.
‘I’m still not convinced it’s safe for the apprentices to write magic,’ Hawke said. ‘I wish you’d wait until I had a chance to find out what’s attacking the museum’s defences. I fear we are playing into the hands of the enemy.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Gloom. ‘We must embrace our heritage, not shy away from it. We have been hiding in the shadows for too long because we had no magic writers. The return of the Golden Circle firemarks signals a new start.
‘I think if you had your way, Gideon, I wouldn’t be holding the assessments at all!’ he continued. ‘But the world needs magic now more than ever. Where’s your ambition, man?’
‘Ambition,’ muttered Hawke. ‘It was reckless ambition that led to magic being banned.’
‘Yes, but that’s because Grey wasn’t nurtured properly. That’s why we must help these children, guide them in the right direction so that they don’t make the same mistake.’
‘Grey had talent and he had ambition,’ continued Gloom. ‘It wasn’t just writing magic that interested him. Look at his experiments with magical art. He was a brilliant painter, too.’
‘Grey was irresponsible,’ said Hawke. ‘He thought he knew more about magic than the elders, and look where it led! It is because of him that magic was discredited and his friends were all—’
At that moment the two men turned the corner and saw the five apprentices waiting. Hawke fell silent. The children shot nervous glances at one another. What was he about to say? What had happened to Grey’s friends? What was the secret that no one wanted them to know?
Katerina appeared from the direction of the Great Gallery.
‘Ah, Katerina,’ said Gloom. ‘Glad you could join us. Your knowledge of the magisters could be very valuable.’
‘Is this the Scriptorium?’ Katerina asked excitedly, gazing at the burnished oak doors.
Gloom smiled. ‘Yes, my dear,’ he said. ‘It is an exact replica of the original scriptorium at the Great Library of Alexandria, where the great books of magic were written. This is the place where one day they will be rewritten and history will be remade.’
Entering the room with the other apprentices, Archie felt a twinge of excitement and anticipation. He had been inside the Scriptorium three times. Once when Bramble was showing him around the museum for the first time, and twice when he had entered The Book of Yore to find out about the past. The second time had almost ended in disaster when he’d become trapped by the fire inside the Great Library of Alexandria and had had to be rescued by Gideon Hawke.
As they stepped over the threshold, torches on the wall magically lit themselves and blazed to light the room. Thistle and Katerina gasped, but Archie had seen it before.
Gloom smiled to himself. ‘Ah,’ he breathed. ‘The old magic stirs!’
In the centre of the room, two rows of desks were shrouded in white dust sheets. More dust sheets were draped down the wall, concealing what lay beneath.
Whenever Archie entered the Scriptorium, he felt he was trespassing on its stillness. That feeling came back to him strongly now. He felt a sudden sense of loss, as if the room itself was still grieving for something or someone.
He tried to put it to the back of his mind. He was there for a reason: to discover the secrets of writing magic. If he could do that, then the Alchemists’ Club could rewrite The Book of Charms and dispel the shadow hanging over the museum.
Gloom saw his wistful look. ‘A great sadness lies on this place,’ he said. ‘It mourns the passing of the great magic writers of old.’
Gloom strode along the aisle between the rows of desks, running his fingers excitedly over their shrouded forms.
‘When Barzak set fire to the Gr
eat Library of Alexandria and corrupted the magical books, there was nothing our ancestors could do except try to preserve them until they could be restored to their former glory.’
He uncovered one of the desks, letting the dust sheet slither to the ground.
‘By some miracle the contents of the original scriptorium survived the fire. These are the very same desks where the old magic writers practised their craft and the great books of magic were written. The desks were brought here from Alexandria. Look – you can still see the scorch marks from the fire.
‘But by then there were no great magic writers left to use them. The last of the magisters founded the museum and wrote the spells that have protected it all these years. And then something remarkable happened – Fabian Grey and his group of apprentices emerged with the Golden Circle firemark. They squandered their opportunity. But now we have another chance in you.
‘Ambition,’ he said. ‘Aspiration. These should be our watchwords. We must seize this moment – otherwise the museum and all it stands for will come to nothing.
‘Here in this place the most precious books are stored.’ He gestured to a wooden podium where a large book with a brown leather cover was displayed. ‘The Book of Yore contains the history of magic,’ he said, shaking his head sadly. ‘It is a proud history, but we have forgotten the achievements of the past.’
Katerina was staring at a glass dome at the far end of the room. ‘Are they what I think they are?’ she said, gazing at the books inside.
‘They are indeed,’ Gloom said. ‘Come up here so you can get a better view.’
He led her up some stairs to a raised wooden platform. ‘Behold the Books of Destiny,’ he said dramatically. ‘The Book of Prophecy contains predictions about the future of magic,’ he said, indicating a grey book that was closed. ‘And that,’ he added, nodding at the very large open book, ‘is The Book of Reckoning. It keeps the tally between life and death.’
The open book was the size of a table and raised up at an angle of forty-five degrees so that its pages were visible. Suspended in its centre was an ornate crystal hourglass. The hourglass was protected by a silver case, which formed part of the spine. The pages of the book were shaped around it so that it could be seen even when the book was open.
A blue quill floated in the air just above its open pages. It was a magic quill from a Bennu bird, and it was constantly updating the names and dates. The Book of Reckoning recorded every birth and death in the magical realm.
Katerina was gazing at the books in wonder. Archie smiled to himself. He had had the exact same reaction when he first saw the Books of Destiny.
Archie glanced at the silver hourglass. It kept a tally of the time that was left until the books in the museum released their magic into the world. According to legend, that day would mark either the beginning of a new golden age of magic or the start of another dark age.
The last time the sand had moved, it had been a warning that the Greaders were plotting to steal The Book of Souls. Archie was relieved to see that the hourglass was still. He noticed that a third book had been placed inside the glass dome with the others.
Katerina interrupted his thoughts. ‘Is that The Book of Charms?’ she asked, gazing with fascination at the most recent addition.
‘Erm, yes,’ confirmed Gloom. ‘The elders had it put there for safekeeping. The glass dome is sealed with a guardian spell.’
Gloom’s face turned suddenly troubled. ‘Although I suppose that even that will lose its strength as The Book of Charms fades.’
‘Then it is The Book of Charms that is the key to everything,’ said Katerina. ‘It is what protects the museum from attack.’
She gestured at the Books of Destiny. ‘We must look to the future. We must develop the next generation – our generation.’ She paused. ‘You have the Golden Circle firemark, so one of you will be the one to reclaim the place of magic in the world!’
‘Quite so,’ exclaimed Gloom. ‘And that is why, despite the objections of some at the museum, I have brought you here today. I hope it will inspire you to achieve your full potential. It was in this very room that the last generation of magic writers honed their special gifts.’
What Gloom didn’t know was that the Alchemists’ Club had already been re-formed. Archie caught a sideways glance from Arabella. Rupert nudged Bramble, and Thistle looked at his feet. Archie wondered what he’d got them all into.
‘They were the most naturally gifted apprentices who ever worked at the museum,’ Gloom continued, tugging one of the dust sheets from the wall to reveal a large painting.
It was a picture of five young people in their late teens. There were three young men and two young women, all sitting at a table. The men wore black tunics with white collars, and the women wore long gowns pulled in tight at the waist. On the table in front of them was a black quill and a flask containing a golden liquid.
Two of the men and both of the women were facing the front and smiling. But the young man at the end of the table was turning away. Despite his youth, he had a streak of white running through his dark hair and appeared to be pointing at an open door at the back of the room. The man had his head turned towards it so that his expression was hidden. A sign beneath said: THE ALCHEMISTS’ CLUB, 1665.
Gloom stepped back to admire it. ‘It is the only picture we have of them,’ he said. ‘Grey painted it himself. They say it contains a prophecy about the future of magic.’
With a flourish, he pulled off the other dust sheet to reveal a wooden plaque.
The Alchemists’ Club, founded 1662
Fabian Grey
Braxton Foxe
Felicia Nightshade
Angelica Ripley
Roderick Trevallen
Beneath it was the Golden Circle symbol.
9
Book Hauntings
Archie was convinced that there was something the elders still weren’t telling them. The newly re-formed Alchemists’ Club had decided to forge ahead with its own research. They already knew that the Golden Circle firemark was one of three requirements for writing new magic. But they would also need an enchanted quill from a magical creature and the mysterious substance called azoth.
Mudberry’s A Beginner’s Guide to Magic was a good starting point, Archie decided. Once again, it didn’t let him down.
He found an entry for azoth. The page was worn. It had obviously been read and reread many times.
Azoth: a magical compound highly prized by alchemists. The ancient magic writers wrote their master spells with azoth because of its long-lasting properties. It can also extend the life expectancy of mortals. The symbol for azoth is the caduceus, which represents the staff of life.
Arabella had been busy doing some research of her own about the dangers involved with writing new magic. She was working in the Supernatural Magic Department and had access to Feodora Graves’s study, which was located in the North Gallery. Arabella had invited the other four apprentices to meet her there that lunchtime, to share what she had discovered.
Thistle, meanwhile, had been reading up on the different departments in Magical Places to Visit. He had it open now and was looking at it as they walked.
‘Katerina is right about Grey having a secret laboratory,’ he informed Archie and Bramble, as the three cousins made their way up a flight of marble stairs connecting the Great Gallery with the North Gallery. ‘Listen to this:
‘The locations of some magical places remain a mystery. Among the most intriguing is the secret laboratory of Fabian Grey. Grey is known to have carried out magical experiments while still an apprentice at the Museum of Magical Miscellany. It is believed that it was here that he first discovered the secret to making the magical substance azoth, although Grey’s notebook containing the formula has never been found. The exact location of the laboratory remains unknown, but it is thought to be somewhere within the museum.’
‘Imagine if we could find it!’ said Archie. ‘Maybe Grey left some clues there about how to
make azoth. Or even a secret stash of it!’
They passed through an arched doorway with a smiling skull above it, the symbol for supernatural magic. In front of them they could see a staircase that gave off an eerie light in the gloom. This was called the Pale Staircase. Flaming torches were set in brackets shaped like the clawed hands of grotesque beasts, and the balustrades had skulls carved into them, their mouths fixed in hideous grins.
The dark walls of the staircase were covered with runes and other magical designs that looked like they had been drawn with chalk and gleamed in the murky half-light.
They climbed the stairs until they reached the first landing, where Rupert was waiting for them.
‘Hurry up,’ he said. ‘We haven’t got long. Arabella says that Graves will be back soon. It’s this way,’ he added, indicating a dingy hallway that led off from the main staircase. Behind them the stairs continued to rise into the shadows above.
The hallway ended in another arched doorway. Two demon-headed gargoyles stood outside as if on guard.
‘Nice gargoyles!’ joked Archie.
‘Technically, they aren’t gargoyles, they’re grotesques,’ said Thistle, referring to Magical Places to Visit. ‘Gargoyles are decorative water spouts. These are grotesques because they are free-standing.’
‘Whatever they are, they don’t look very friendly,’ replied Archie. ‘Look at the size of their claws!’ He remembered how the bookend beasts, the two great stone griffins that had once guarded the Great Library of Alexandria, had turned from stone into flesh and blood in front of his eyes.
‘Come on,’ said Rupert. ‘This place gives me the creeps. I don’t want to be here any longer than necessary. Give me the mythical menagerie any day!’
Three-quarters of the way up the door was a brass door knocker with a heavy brass ring. Rupert gave it a loud rap.
‘Come in,’ said a voice from the other side.
