Archie Greene and the Alchemist's Curse

by D D Everest

  It was the smell of amora. They walked through the market again, pausing occasionally to close their eyes and take a good sniff. They loitered by a greengrocer’s stall for a while. The fresh fruit and cut flowers smelled like natural magic, but then Bramble picked up a whiff of brimstone, the unmistakable scent of mortal magic.

  ‘It’s coming from that shop over there,’ she said. ‘Past the shoe shop, the one that’s in shadow.’

  A small shop was tucked away in a dark corner of the market. As the three children approached, the smell of magic got stronger. The shop had red curtains across the windows and a sign that said: AGATHA’S EMPORIUM: PUTTING THE MAGIC BACK INTO SHOPPING.

  They opened the door and went inside. The shop was small and cluttered. A selection of magical instruments and objects had been laid out in glass cases.

  Agatha stepped out into the front of the shop, wearing the same green smock that she’d had on at the fayre.

  ‘Hello, my dears. What can I do for you? Interested in a gift for a friend or family member?’

  ‘We met you at the book fayre,’ said Archie. ‘You were interested in my pendant.’

  Agatha peered at them through watery eyes. ‘Ah, yes. I remember you now,’ she said. ‘John Dee’s scrying stone, the Emerald Eye. Have you changed your mind about selling it?’

  ‘No,’ said Archie. ‘I’m here about something else. A ring.’

  ‘Show me, and I’ll tell you what I know.’

  Archie hesitated. He didn’t know whether he could trust Agatha. But he was desperate to find out more about the ring. He took it from his pocket and placed it on the counter.

  Agatha regarded it keenly. Her bony fingers closed around it like claws and her eyes gleamed.

  Archie felt Bramble and Thistle at his side, watching carefully. The little woman was making cooing noises.

  ‘Well, well. Fabian Grey’s ring,’ she sighed. ‘Aren’t you full of surprises? Next you’ll be telling me you’ve got his quill!’ she added, watching their faces. ‘Where did you get the ring? Don’t tell me, it was a present, too?’

  Archie smiled. ‘Sort of,’ he said. He couldn’t really tell her that a raven had delivered it. ‘What do you know about it?’

  Agatha shook her head thoughtfully, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. ‘Fabian Grey was the greatest alchemist in England. Most people know him for the Great Fire of London, but he was also a brilliant artist and inventor. He made the ring himself.’

  She peered at the gold band. ‘There aren’t many pieces that were forged in the magic flames – but I can tell that this one was.’

  She held it up to her eye.

  ‘What’s that?’ she said, turning the ring between her finger and thumb. ‘There’s something written inside.’

  She picked up an imagining glass and peered through it. ‘The writing is very small, but I think you can just about make it out.’ She offered Archie the imagining glass, and turned the ring in her hand so he could see the tiny lettering.

  This is my word, this is my mark

  Forged in the fire, a light in the dark.

  ‘It must be very special to have an inscription like that. You should be careful,’ said Agatha. ‘There are some who’d give anything to get their hands on this.’

  ‘Greaders, you mean?’ said Thistle.

  ‘Collectors,’ Agatha said. The conversation was starting to make Archie uncomfortable. He just wanted to get the ring back, but Agatha clutched it tightly in her hand.

  ‘How much did you say you want for it?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s not for sale,’ Archie said.

  He held out his hand for the ring, but Agatha seemed reluctant to give it back. He thought he heard something cry out, and a black bird fluttered against the shop window. Archie felt the palm of his hand start to itch.

  He clasped Agatha’s hand in his. He gently plucked the ring from her fingers. As he tucked it back into his pocket, Agatha gave a small gasp, and her hand made a clutching movement in the air.

  16

  Winging It

  The next incident occurred a week later. Old Zeb had sent Archie to collect yeti hair and werewolf claw needles from the mythical menagerie. On the way, he had run into Bramble and Thistle, who were in the Natural Magic Department and decided to go with him.

  As they approached the menagerie, they could hear a cacophony of screeching, flapping and growling. When they reached the passageway between the pens, they could see that the food buckets had been knocked over. There was no sign of Rupert.

  They glanced over the low gate to the snufflings pen, but it appeared to be empty. Either the small creatures had made themselves invisible or they had escaped.

  In the next pen, Desmond the dodo was flapping his pathetically short wings and honking madly. In the pen with the blacked-out glass, they could hear the man-eating birds, the stympalians, crashing against the wire mesh and making blood-chilling screeching sounds.

  ‘I have a bad feeling about this,’ said Bramble. ‘Where’s Rupert?’

  ‘Look at the dryads,’ cried Thistle. The tree nymphs were clinging to the tops of their trees and shrieking in their high-pitched voices as loudly as they could. They were shaking their branches and pointing at something.

  ‘I think they’re trying to tell us something,’ said Archie. ‘What are they pointing at?’

  Someone had placed a silver locket on top of the wall of one of the animal pens.

  ‘It looks like Rupert’s new keepsafe. He’s only had it a few days.’

  The locket was open. The dryads were pointing at it and covering their ears with their tiny hands.

  ‘It must be a musical locket,’ said Archie. ‘It’s too high a frequency for us to hear it, but the creatures hate it. It’s driving them mad. Look!’

  The golden hinds and satyrs were racing up and down their pen, bucking and snorting. And Simon the salamander had turned an angry red. The children took cover as the salamander blasted the metal door with its flame.

  Just then they heard the bellowing sound.

  ‘Uh-oh,’ cried Bramble, pointing at where the reinforced gate to the next pen was standing open. ‘Someone’s let the Minotaur out!’

  The bellowing wasn’t coming from the reinforced pen. It was coming from the large pen that held the Pegasus. They heard a frightened whinny and raced over.

  The winged horse was backed into a corner, its nostrils flaring and its eyes wide with terror. Staring angrily at it through bloodshot eyes was the Minotaur, its two very sharp horns aimed menacingly at the Pegasus’s exposed flank. The bull-headed monster was preparing to charge.

  At that moment they spotted something else lying on the ground between the terrified winged horse and the angry Minotaur. It was Rupert, and he wasn’t moving.

  Bramble’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Rupert!’ she cried, but he could not hear her. ‘He’s hurt. He must have tried to protect the Pegasus!’

  The Minotaur snorted loudly and pawed the ground with its foot. It threw back its huge head and roared.

  ‘He’ll be killed,’ cried Thistle, ‘unless we can stop it.’ There was no time to reach the gate which was standing open some twenty metres away. Thistle started to climb the fence, but Archie was already at the top. He dropped down into the pen and ran towards Rupert.

  ‘Hey, wait for me!’ cried Bramble, scrambling up the fence behind them. By now Thistle was racing after Archie. Bramble swung her leg over the top of the fence and dropped down on the other side. Now there were three of them running towards the confused Minotaur.

  Thistle started shouting and waving his hands. The creature looked from one to the other, unsure which one of these irritating humans annoyed it most. Bramble had picked up a feeding bucket and was hitting it with a stick to make even more noise.

  Archie saw that the Minotaur was momentarily distracted. He darted forward. Rupert was heavy, but Archie gripped him under his arms and managed to haul him away from the snorting Minotaur towards the Pega
sus. The winged horse whinnied and tossed its head frantically, watching Archie as he tried to drag Rupert to safety.

  Archie felt Rupert stir and groan something. ‘My ribs, I think they’re broken. The Minotaur trampled me. I was trying to protect her.’

  The winged horse flared its nostrils in fear.

  ‘Easy, girl,’ soothed Archie. ‘I’m going to untie your wings so you can get away.’

  The horse inclined its head as if perhaps it understood.

  ‘Steady, girl,’ said Archie, holding up his hand to calm her. He gently stroked its head. Then, letting go of Rupert for a moment, he reached up and undid the strap that bound its wings to its body. The creature unfurled them to their full span.

  The movement drew the Minotaur’s attention. Thistle and Bramble were still shouting and waving their arms, but the beast’s bloodshot eyes had locked on Archie and the Pegasus. It bellowed once. Then it put its head down and charged.

  ‘Run, Archie,’ cried Bramble, desperately reaching for the tiny gold bow and arrow charm on her keepsafe. But there wasn’t time for her to take aim at the charging Minotaur.

  Archie was cornered. There was only one thing he could do. Hauling Rupert to his feet, he shoved him over the Pegasus’s back and scrambled up after him.

  For a moment, the great winged horse stared wide-eyed as the Minotaur bore down on it. Then, when the beast was almost upon it, when Archie had almost given up hope, the creature beat its powerful wings and launched itself into the air. It soared upward, and Archie held on to its long white mane with one hand and on to Rupert with the other.

  Thistle and Bramble cheered as the flying horse swooped around the pen. The Minotaur, unable to slow its charge, crashed into the fence, roaring with anger. For a moment it was dazed, but then it shook its head and began to paw the ground again.

  ‘Erm, Bram,’ said Thistle. ‘I think it’s time to go!’

  ‘I’m with you,’ cried Bramble. ‘Run!’

  They sprinted for the gate. Behind them they could hear the Minotaur’s hooves tearing up the ground and getting closer and closer. Bramble reached the gate first and darted through it. Thistle was a fraction behind her, and the Minotaur a fraction behind him. But it was just enough time for Bramble to let Thistle through and then slam the gate shut. With a loud thump and a sound of splintering wood, the Minotaur smashed into the gate, knocking itself senseless.

  Bramble dusted herself down. She marched over to the silver locket and closed it. The magical creatures immediately began to calm down.

  Bramble gave a low whistle. ‘Phew. That was close,’ she breathed. ‘Where are Archie and Rupert?’

  ‘Over there,’ cried Bramble, pointing. ‘I think they’re enjoying themselves. Look!’

  She was right – the Pegasus was soaring over the animal pens, its long mane and tail streaking out behind it. Rupert was now sitting astride the beautiful creature in front of Archie, still looking groggy but holding on around its middle with one hand and clutching his ribs with the other.

  *

  Inside the Lost Books Department half an hour later, Gideon Hawke paced back and forth, his brow furrowed. Feodora Graves and Orpheus Gloom were sitting in armchairs on either side of the fire, watching him. Archie and Rupert sat on the gnarled leather sofa in the middle of the room.

  Rupert was trying to explain what had happened.

  ‘One minute it was fine,’ he said. ‘The next thing I remember is opening the locket and then all hell broke loose.’

  ‘Well, someone knew you’d take it into the menagerie,’ said Graves, holding up the musical locket. ‘In fact, they were relying on it. This is a very nasty little piece of work.’

  ‘It looks harmless enough, but it has a hex on it,’ said Hawke. ‘The tune it plays bewitches the person who opens it and drives magical creatures mad.’

  ‘Where did you get it?’ asked Gloom.

  ‘Well, that’s the odd thing about it – I thought it was from you!’ said Rupert. ‘It came with a letter saying that the five apprentices with the Golden Circle firemark must all have keepsafes, and the locket was mine.’ He paused. ‘So it wasn’t from you?’

  ‘Certainly not!’ said Gloom.

  ‘Well, who was it from, then?’

  ‘I wonder,’ said Hawke. ‘Did anyone else receive a keepsafe?’

  Rupert thought for a moment. ‘Archie got the ring from the raven,’ he said.

  ‘Hmmm, yes, the ring,’ said Hawke thoughtfully. ‘But this,’ he added, indicating the musical locket, ‘is a different matter altogether. And it just arrived out of the blue?’

  ‘I lost my lucky cufflinks and it arrived shortly afterwards, gift-wrapped and everything.’

  ‘Some gift. If it hadn’t been for Archie’s quick thinking it would have been fatal for you,’ said Hawke.

  Archie smiled. Tucked inside his shirt was a single white feather.

  ‘The Pegasus was grateful, too,’ he said.

  ‘I’ll second that!’ said Rupert. ‘I owe you one, Arch.’

  Graves’s expression was serious. ‘First the accident with the dark quill, and now this,’ she said, shaking her head.

  ‘They were no accidents, Feodora,’ said Hawke, his brow darkening. ‘The Alchemist’s Curse has returned.’

  17

  The Foul-Weather Friend

  The second half of December brought frosty weather and a few flurries of snow to Oxford. The children were disappointed it didn’t settle. The work of the museum carried on all year, but lessons were suspended for the Christmas holidays.

  Under normal circumstances, the children would have been happy to pass the time talking about the presents they were hoping to get. But there was a shadow hanging over the members of the Alchemists’ Club. The incident with Rupert and the hexed keepsafe was weighing on all their minds.

  Whoever had sent Rupert the locket was still at large, despite attempts by the elders to discover the culprit.

  Nor had they managed to find out any more information about the Alchemist’s Curse. It seemed to be the museum’s best-kept secret.

  *

  The morning after they had broken up from their apprenticeships, Loretta called up the stairs.

  ‘Archie, something came for you in the post. It’s on the kitchen table.’

  Archie felt his spirits lift. He guessed it was from Gran, who was still on her road trip. Sure enough, a padded white envelope was addressed to him in her neat handwriting.

  Inside was a brightly wrapped gift, with a card that read:

  To Archie, Bramble and Thistle,

  Merry Christmas.

  Love from Granny Greene

  PS. Don’t open until Christmas Day.

  With the parcel was a letter addressed to Archie. Hungry for news, he tore it open and started to read.

  Dearest Archie,

  I’m sorry I can’t be there with you at this special time of year, but I am thinking about the three of you.

  The reason I am writing to you separately is to tell you what I have discovered on my travels.

  As you know, before he left, your father made me promise to keep you away from magic for as long as possible. If that failed, I was to find out as much as I could about Fabian Grey. It is known among certain magical aides that your fate and his are linked in some way.

  What I tell you here is what I have been able to piece together. Grey escaped the blaze in the baker’s shop and returned to Oxford, where he was arrested and taken to the Tower of London.

  It seems that he was badly affected by what happened in the cellar and lost his memory from the shock. Somehow even in his poor state of mind he managed to escape and left England. I have traced his movements to the Himalayas. Where he went from there, I do not yet know.

  There are questions that need answers, and I cannot return until I find them. Keep your cousins close by, and share this letter with them.

  Give my love to them and to Loretta and Woodbine.

  Merry Christmas.

&
nbsp; All my love as ever,

  Gran

  Archie showed the letter to his cousins.

  ‘The raven that brought the ring said it came from the Tower,’ said Bramble, thoughtfully. ‘And the Tower of London is famous for its ravens, so that might explain it. But why didn’t Grey leave the country straightaway? Why risk travelling to Oxford? It’s the first place the authorities would have looked for him.’

  ‘Maybe he’d already lost his memory by then, or was confused?’ said Thistle.

  ‘He had enough wits to find his way back here,’ said Archie. ‘There must have been something he needed to do. Some unfinished business.’

  Just then, they heard Loretta calling them from downstairs.

  ‘It’ll have to wait,’ said Thistle. ‘Mum wants us to help decorate the tree.’

  *

  The Christmas preparations were a welcome distraction from their worries. The children hung magic lanterns from the ceiling and cut out Christmas trees from scraps of parchment that Archie had rescued from the workshop. They festooned the tree with tinsel and other decorations and put the gifts underneath, with the package from Gran in pride of place.

  Arabella dropped by with some good news. Rupert was on the mend and seemed to have suffered no long-term effects from the Minotaur attack.

  ‘He’s still very pale,’ said Arabella, who looked ashen herself. ‘He’s cracked a couple of ribs, but they don’t think there’s any lasting damage.’

  ‘Well, thank heavens for that,’ said Bramble.

  ‘What kind of nutter sends someone a hexed keepsafe?’ said Thistle. ‘I mean, you’d have to be pretty sick.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Arabella, looking upset again. ‘He could have been seriously hurt.’

  ‘I saw Katerina,’ she added, changing the subject. ‘She was asking about the azoth. She’s worried we might try to write magic with it unsupervised. After what happened with the black quill, she thinks it’s too dangerous and we should give it to her or hand it in to the elders.’