Archie Greene and the Alchemist's Curse

by D D Everest

  He coughed nervously. ‘This means that any spells you write today will only last a few seconds. So you can’t do any permanent harm if something goes wrong!’

  ‘Do you think he knows something we don’t?’ muttered Arabella under her breath.

  ‘There’s definitely something going on,’ whispered Bramble. ‘It must be to do with the curse.’

  ‘Today we will be using the enchanted quills,’ announced Gloom.

  The children made eye contact again.

  Gloom crossed to the glass cabinet and unlocked the door. He took out a long thin box made from polished wood, with the symbol of the Golden Circle inlaid in mother-of-pearl.

  ‘These quills belonged to the Alchemists’ Club,’ he said. ‘Miraculously, those of Braxton Foxe, Angelica Ripley and Roderick Trevallen were rescued from the burning bakery in Pudding Lane. Sadly, Fabian Grey’s golden Bennu quill and that of Felicia Nightshade were not so fortunate.’

  He opened the lid and peered in. A puzzled look passed across his face. ‘I’m mistaken, there’s four … That must be Felicia Nightshade’s black strix quill. I thought it was destroyed in the fire, but here it is.’

  He smiled. ‘So there are four quills. You will have to take turns. Thistle, you may choose first.’

  He held out the box. Thistle put in his hand and pulled out a white quill.

  ‘Ah,’ said Gloom. ‘Excellent. That belonged to Angelica Ripley. It’s from a Caladrius bird, which has healing powers.’

  Bramble went next. She held up a mottled brown quill.

  ‘Now that belonged to Braxton Foxe,’ said Gloom. ‘It’s from a griffin, one of the great guardians of magical treasures!’

  ‘A roc feather for you, Rupert,’ Gloom added, as Rupert produced a long, dark feather. ‘That was Roderick Trevallen’s quill. And finally, Felicia Nightshade’s strix quill.’

  ‘May I try?’ asked Katerina, reaching for the black quill.

  ‘Yes, why not,’ said Gloom, ‘although unless you have the Golden Circle I fear you are wasting your time.

  ‘There are three inkwells, one for each of the quills,’ he continued, ‘so you’ll have to share with Rupert,’ he added. ‘Now, let us make a start. On your desks each of you will find a piece of parchment. I want you to imagine something from nature and try to channel your imagination into a spell. Then I want you to write down the spell. This is not easy, so you’ll need to concentrate.’

  Bramble, Thistle, Rupert and Katerina dipped their quills in the inkwells. There was a pause while they all tried to imagine something from nature, and then the sound of quill nibs scratching on parchment filled the air. Rupert, Bramble and Thistle were all intent on trying to create a spell. Katerina, too, was writing frantically.

  At first, nothing happened, and then Archie looked up to see a tiny blue butterfly fluttering above Rupert’s head.

  ‘That’s amazing!’ he cried.

  ‘What is?’ asked Rupert, who was focusing all his attention on the parchment in front of him.

  ‘There!’ cried Thistle, pointing at the butterfly.

  Rupert stopped scribbling to look, and the moment he did the ink disappeared on the parchment and the butterfly vanished.

  ‘Oh, it’s gone now!’ sighed Thistle. ‘But it was brilliant while it lasted.’

  ‘Well done,’ cried Gloom, clapping his hands together excitedly. ‘A butterfly spell! Such a talented bunch!’

  Just then, Rupert exclaimed. ‘Look, everyone, Bramble’s writing magic!’

  And she was. She had her head bowed and was totally absorbed in composing a spell. As she scratched on the parchment, a bumblebee buzzed in the air above her quill, flying in circles around the feather.

  When she saw the others looking at her, she glanced up. Again the spell vanished as soon as the ink faded.

  ‘Well done, Bramble!’ said Gloom. ‘Oh and that’s rather splendid, too, Thistle!’ he added, as Thistle produced a furry brown caterpillar that crawled across his desk and then vanished.

  Bramble passed her quill to Archie. ‘Your turn, Arch.’

  Archie grasped it firmly. The quill felt wonderfully balanced, with the gold nib weighting it perfectly in his hand. He reached across and dipped his quill in the inkwell on Katerina’s desk.

  ‘How are you getting on, Katerina?’ asked Gloom.

  Katerina was scribbling frantically. ‘Nothing yet,’ she said, a note of irritation in her voice.

  ‘Well, what did you expect?’ said Gloom. ‘Only those with the Golden Circle firemark can write magic.’

  ‘It’s probably the quill,’ said Arabella. ‘It looks like it’s been mended at some point.’

  Katerina inspected the quill. ‘Arabella’s right,’ she said. ‘It has been repaired. But that’s not unusual. Magic writers get very attached to their quills and go to great lengths to make them last. Fabian Grey was so protective of his quill that he cast it in gold.’

  Archie took a closer look. He could see where the quill had been repaired. If it was the one Felicia had used in Pudding Lane then it was Fabian Grey who had tried to break it. The last spell the quill had written was a curse. Archie desperately racked his brain for some way of warning Gloom without revealing how he knew.

  ‘Erm, Professor Gloom, I think that quill is damaged,’ he said. ‘I don’t think we should use it. It could be dangerous.’

  ‘What?’ said Gloom. ‘Well, I can see that it has been well used. But I’m sure it’s absolutely fine. Katerina, what do you think?’

  ‘Yes, but the black quill is—’ Archie started to say.

  ‘Special?’ interjected Katerina. ‘So why won’t it let me write magic!’

  ‘Never mind, Katerina,’ said Arabella. ‘Would you like me to try to write a spell for you?’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Katerina, passing the black quill to Arabella. ‘Here,’ she added, handing her the inkwell. As Arabella took it, the griffin quill in Archie’s hand pulsed. He felt it fluttering in his hand like a tiny bird. Then it pulled his hand towards the parchment on his desk. As he watched, amazed, words began to appear.

  For the sake of a choice

  Between dark and light

  The city she burned

  All through the night.

  Heed thee this caution

  The Alchemist’s Curse

  Friend turn on friend

  If it be not reversed.

  Archie stared at the words. Where had they come from?

  He was still gazing at the parchment when he heard someone scream. Arabella was clutching the strix quill with a strange look on her face. Her body had gone limp like a puppet except for the hand that held the quill, which was scribbling madly as if it had a life of its own.

  Fiery black letters began to form in the air above Arabella’s head.

  In dark places where none may go

  Shadows linger from long ago

  Secrets lurk from older days

  Hidden paths and stealthy ways.

  ‘Whatever is the matter with you?’ cried Gloom. ‘Good heavens,’ he added, catching sight of the black letters. ‘Dark magic!’ He tried to snatch the quill from Arabella, but as he did his body went rigid, and the quill continued to scribble.

  Where shadows hide let darkness reign

  The Alchemist’s Curse shall come again …

  Gloom began to tremble violently. The other apprentices stared in horror, powerless to do anything.

  And in that moment Archie heard the gentle voice he had heard before, but this time its tone was urgent.

  ‘Do something, book whisperer! The quill is bewitched. The magic assessor needs your help! Without it he will die!’

  ‘But I don’t know how to help him!’ cried Archie desperately.

  ‘Use your gift,’ said the voice.

  And then Archie heard another voice. It was thin and high and at first it wavered, but it grew stronger.

  ‘Quill of darkness, spell of black,

  By the light of Pharos, I cast you back
!’

  With a shock Archie realised it was his own voice. But the sound was not coming from his lips; it was coming from the parchment in front of him. His hand was moving and he was writing the words.

  As he wrote, green fiery letters appeared above his head.

  The black letters hanging in the air over Gloom remained a second longer and then vanished. Gloom fell forward and collapsed on the ground.

  ‘Quickly,’ cried Katerina. ‘Do something!’

  ‘I’ll get Gideon Hawke,’ cried Rupert. ‘He’ll know what to do.’

  When Hawke arrived with Wolfus Bone and Morag Pandrama a few minutes later, they found Gloom on the floor surrounded by the apprentices, with frightened looks on their faces. The magic assessor was ashen, with deep shadows under his eyes.

  Morag Pandrama leaned over him. ‘Orpheus, drink this,’ she said, offering him a healing potion in a cup. She poured the liquid onto Gloom’s tongue and he swallowed. His eyes flickered and then opened.

  ‘What happened?’ he asked.

  ‘From what Rupert has told me it sounds like you interrupted a dark spell while it was being written,’ Hawke said. He bent down to retrieve the black quill from the floor.

  ‘Where did you get this quill?’ he asked, passing it to Bone.

  ‘It was in the cabinet with the others,’ said Gloom. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it is bewitched,’ said Bone, holding the quill carefully between his thumb and forefinger. ‘It has a hex on it. You’re lucky you didn’t hold it for any longer than you did. Another few seconds and you would have been dead,’ he added, shaking his head.

  He held up the quill. ‘What do you want to do with it?’ he asked Hawke.

  ‘Take it to my study. We’ll examine it there,’ said Hawke. He paused. ‘In fact, take all the quills to my office. They’ll be safer there. No one will be tempted to use them.’

  The children cast desperate glances at one another. With the quills under lock and key, what chance did they have of writing any magic?

  ‘The excitement is over,’ Hawke said. ‘You may all go back to your apprenticeships.’

  They began to file out. Archie was about to join them, but Hawke caught his arm. ‘The dark spell is trying to find a way back into the world,’ Hawke said. ‘It would have killed Gloom if you hadn’t intervened. How did you break its hold on him?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Archie. ‘I started writing, and the words just sort of came to me.’

  Hawke noticed the parchment on the desk, with the spell still written on it. He picked it up and examined it.

  ‘Did you write this?’ he asked.

  Archie nodded. He didn’t understand why the ink hadn’t disappeared.

  ‘What ink did you use?’

  ‘Gloom said it was disappearing ink,’ said Archie.

  ‘Which inkwell did you dip your quill in?’

  ‘That one,’ said Archie.

  Hawke picked up the inkwell and sniffed it. Then he held it up to the light. It gleamed with gold.

  ‘Azoth,’ he said. ‘That’s why the spell didn’t disappear. Was the black quill dipped in this inkwell, too?’

  Archie tried to think. ‘Yes, I think it was.’

  Hawke looked thoughtful. ‘I think I’d better take this,’ he said. ‘In the wrong hands it could be dangerous.

  ‘One more thing. I’d like to see Fabian Grey’s ring. Do you have it?’

  ‘It’s in my pocket,’ said Archie.

  ‘I think we’ll keep it in Lost Books for now,’ said Hawke. ‘Just until Wolfus has had a chance to examine it.’

  Hawke took the ring. Archie noticed that he folded the piece of parchment and put that in his pocket, too.

  *

  For the next few days, everyone was talking about the incident with the dark quill. There were all sorts of rumours flying around. Some were even speculating that the quill had come from the raven that had brought the ring. The elders had launched a full investigation into how the hexed quill had ended up in the cabinet with the other enchanted quills, but no one had come forward. Archie felt guilty. He had known that the black quill could be dangerous but had not stopped Arabella or Gloom from using it. When he saw Katerina he thought she gave him a knowing look, as if she suspected that he’d known about the quill.

  It was two days later that Gideon Hawke summoned Archie to his study. Hawke was sitting behind his desk. Pandrama and Bone had chairs by the fire.

  ‘I want to talk to you about the spell you wrote the other day,’ said Hawke, when Archie was settled on the battered leather sofa. ‘Simple spells are not easy, but they are nothing compared to complex magic, like charms and enchantments. That’s what the old magic writers were really good at.

  ‘They wrote in azoth, which is why their magic has endured for so long. And the reason their spells were so strong is because they were original. No one had written them before. They are the master spells. But what you did the other day, that was an original spell.’

  ‘How do you know?’ asked Archie, alarmed.

  ‘Because Morag checked it against the texts, and she can find no record of such a spell. That means it is original to you. More than that, it’s a very special sort of magic. It had to be to release Gloom from the curse. So, let’s see what you can do.’

  He opened a drawer and took something out. Archie recognised Braxton Foxe’s mottled quill. Hawke slid it across the desk to him. Then he passed him some ink and a piece of parchment. Archie picked up the quill and dipped it in the ink.

  Hawke studied him. ‘Close your eyes and open your imagination. Think of something from nature that is magical and picture it in your mind. When you can see it clearly, I want you to imagine it here in this room. It can be whatever pops into your head. This is about creating your own magic.’

  Archie closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. But nothing came to him.

  ‘What are you thinking of, Archie?’ Hawke asked, after a while.

  Archie’s mind had gone blank. All he could picture in his mind was darkness. And then he saw something else. It was just out of sight at first, but gradually he became aware of a light.

  ‘What can you see?’ asked Hawke.

  ‘The Flame of Pharos,’ said Archie. For a brief moment he felt the magic flowing through him. He felt light-headed.

  ‘Look!’ he heard Pandrama gasp. ‘The boy is writing magic!’

  Green flaming letters had appeared in the air above Archie’s head. But in the instant he became aware of them, the image of the Flame disappeared and the words vanished.

  Archie felt deflated. He had been so close to creating an original spell. He sensed the disappointment among the three elders.

  ‘Never mind,’ said Hawke. ‘You are very young to write magic. Even Fabian Grey couldn’t do it at your age.’ He smiled kindly.

  As he was leaving, Hawke put Grey’s ring in Archie’s hand. ‘I had Wolfus examine it,’ he said. ‘There are no traces of dark magic, so you can have it back.’

  ‘Look after it,’ he said as Archie put it in his pocket. ‘And Archie, one last thing. Dark spells are always looking for a way into the world. You must be very careful that you don’t allow them in through you.’

  15

  Agatha’s Emporium

  Christmas was approaching fast. It would be Archie’s first in Oxford. He was sitting at the kitchen table in Houndstooth Road with his two cousins, sharing a plate of Loretta’s mince pies. Or as Thistle called them, wince pies, because they were so bad they made you wince.

  The Alchemists’ Club had been meeting regularly at Fabian Grey’s laboratory. But the apprentices had to do quite a bit of sneaking around to get in and out without Geoffrey Screech, Marjorie Gudge or Old Zeb noticing. They held their meetings in the evenings when the Aisle of White was closed, and used Archie’s key to the bookshop to let themselves in and out. It was too risky to use the lab in the daytime.

  Thistle had Magical Places to Visit propped up in front of him.

/>   ‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Archie, as he watched Bramble take a big bite from a bulging mince pie and immediately pull a face, ‘about Fabian Grey’s ring. We need to know more about it. There must be a reason the raven gave it to me.’

  Thistle looked up from reading his book. ‘Well, I think I know just the place. Listen to this,’ he said.

  ‘Agatha’s Emporium of Magical Memorabilia is a shop in Oxford, specialising in scrying instruments and other magical memorabilia. Agatha’s caters to the more discerning magical shopper.’

  ‘That was the name of the woman selling astroscopes at the book fayre,’ said Bramble. ‘She said to ask for her at the shop.’

  ‘Well,’ said Archie, ‘she knew all about the Emerald Eye, so it’s worth a try.’

  *

  It was frosty the next day when the three children set off for Agatha’s. They made their way into the centre of Oxford and into the covered market just off the high street and wandered through the maze of little lanes. They walked all the way through a couple of times but could not see any shops that looked remotely magical. Thistle hadn’t brought his compass because they thought the Emporium would be easy to find.

  ‘Perhaps Agatha’s moved,’ said Thistle, his breath like mist in the wintry air.

  ‘No, I’m sure it’s here somewhere,’ said Archie. ‘We’re just not looking in the right place. Does Magical Places to Visit give any directions?’

  Thistle consulted the book. ‘To find Agatha’s Emporium … just follow your nose,’ he said. ‘That’s not very helpful.’

  ‘Or maybe it is,’ said Archie, stopping in his tracks. ‘We could be looking with the wrong sense.’

  He took a big sniff. ‘I can smell something,’ he said.

  ‘That’ll be the fishmonger’s shop,’ said Thistle, grinning.

  ‘Not that,’ said Archie. ‘A sweet smell.’

  ‘Okay, now I can smell it, too,’ said Thistle. ‘Vanilla, with a hint of sulphur, and let me see – a dash of decay.’