‘Awg?’ said Archie, screwing up his eyes under the dentist’s lamp.
‘Indeed. For it is in Dundoodle that I intend to launch my campaign, this very week.’
‘Awgaggawg?’
‘What campaign, you ask? A campaign to rid the world of the poison of sweets and chocolate and fudge, to drive out all that is unwholesome and unclean.’
‘Awgkeen?’ Mr Preen’s eyes glowed steely-blue and Archie could sense there was a cold, perfect smile underneath the mask.
‘Yes!’ said the dentist. ‘I believe it is my mission in life to make the world safe for children to grow up in. I want to make the world … nice.’
‘Aigh?’ Archie’s head began to ache and he felt himself begin to panic. He realised he was trapped, at the mercy of this increasingly sinister man. He gripped the arms of the chair as the dentist scraped the metal tool along a tooth, like fingernails against a blackboard.
‘N.I.C.E. Normal, Inoffensive, Cleansing and Educational. If it is not N.I.C.E, then it is naughty. Naughtiness will not be tolerated. And what is naughtier than a factory devoted to making sweets? Your business is very, very naughty. I have you in my sights, young Mr McBudge. Now rinse and spit, please.’
Archie furiously spat the pink mouthwash into a basin.
‘I can’t make people eat sweets, any more than you can force them to stop,’ he spluttered angrily. ‘You have to let people have a choice!’
‘We’ll see about that,’ said Edward Preen, calmly smoothing his hair back again as Archie walked quickly for the door. ‘You’ll be seeing more of me, Mr McBudge, ha ha.’
Archie had arranged to meet up for lunch with Fliss and Billy at Clootie Dumpling’s after his visit to the dentist. The cosy café was hidden at the back of the McBudge Fudge Shop next to the factory, and its nooks and crannies were always filled with delicious smells. Miss Dumpling (who everyone thought might be a witch because of her sparkly eyes and her habit of knowing just what you wanted to eat) made hot chocolate that was famous throughout Dundoodle for its sweet, dark richness, and the children often used the café as a place to chat and relax after school.
‘Why have the Puddingham-Pyes asked you to their birthday party?’ said Fliss, after Archie told them about his encounter with Garstigan. ‘I thought they hated you.’
‘They don’t have anyone else to invite,’ said Billy. ‘It’s not like they have any friends.’
‘Maybe they’re trying to be nice,’ said Archie. There was silence for a second before they all burst out laughing at the idea. ‘Speaking of nice …’ Archie told them about Edward Preen and the dentist’s threat against the McBudge Factory.
‘He sounds like a total crackpot to me,’ said Billy, dismissively slurping his hot chocolate. ‘Who would want to give up sweets?’
‘He’s already started with his campaign,’ Fliss said. She went over to the counter and picked up a piece of paper from a pile by the till. ‘I saw these when I came in,’ she said, showing the leaflet to Archie. Printed on it was a very flattering picture of Mr Preen’s smiling face, beneath a banner with Normal, Inoffensive, Cleansing and Educational written on it in huge letters. Under the dentist’s handsome chin were the words:
Stop the rot! Put an end to the unnatural pollutant of sweetness.
Join the N.I.C.E. campaign to promote dental and mental hygiene: clean your teeth and your mind!
BE N.I.C.E. AND BANISH NAUGHTINESS
(COMING SOON: New, healthy treats for all the family.)
‘Healthy treats?’ scoffed Billy. ‘They don’t sound very nice at all.’
‘Relax,’ said Fliss. ‘It sounds harmless enough to me.’
‘I can’t believe he had the cheek to leave these in here!’ said Archie, screwing up the leaflet indignantly. ‘I’ll get Clootie to throw them in the bin.’
Just then, Clootie came to their table with a large plate of biscuits. She was very embarrassed when Archie showed her the leaflet.
‘So sorry, Mr McBudge!’ she said, flustered. ‘He was such a charming man, I didn’t realise he was up to no good. I don’t know what I was thinking! I’ll remove them at once.’ She placed the plate on the table. ‘Have a Gingerbread Dragon to make up for it – they’re fresh from the oven.’
‘Ooh, I’d forgotten it was that time of year,’ said Fliss, grabbing one of the dragon-shaped biscuits.
‘What time of year is it?’ said Archie.
Billy and Fliss stared at him.
‘You mean you don’t know about …’ said Billy.
‘You mean you’ve never heard of …’ began Fliss.
‘Don’t know about what?’ said Archie, between mouthfuls of dragon. It was very tasty: rich and spicy with a soft but dense texture. ‘Never heard of what?’
‘Unquiet Night,’ Billy and Fliss said together. A shiver ran down Archie’s back at the words.
‘What’s that?’
‘Unquiet Night is when the dead and undead walk, and the spirits and ghouls rise,’ said Billy. ‘Legends say the magical folk come out of hiding for the night and dance the Dance of the Wyrd.’
Archie frowned. ‘That sounds like Halloween to me,’ he said.
‘It’s nothing like Halloween!’ said Billy hotly. ‘What a ridiculous idea!’
‘Dundoodle doesn’t have Halloween,’ explained Fliss. ‘Halloween is at the end of October, and in Dundoodle that means icy wind and horizontal rain. The weather’s so miserable even the undead stay in and watch TV! So we have Unquiet Night in the summer instead. It’s always on the first Tuesday after school finishes – just over a week away. The town holds a festival for it, with special home-made food – spiced fruit punch, toffee apples …’
‘Coffin Cake!’ said Billy.
‘Witchberry Buns!’ said Fliss.
‘Spellcaster Sugarbeer!’ laughed Billy.
‘And Gingerbread Dragons,’ said Fliss. ‘People dress up in costumes and go around the town knocking on people’s doors to get sweets.’
‘You mean trick-or-treat?’ said Archie.
‘It’s called the Wyrdie Walk here. Then there’s music and dancing by lantern-light, all kinds of games, and a brilliant, creepy puppet show. It’s loads of fun!’
Archie grinned. Trust Dundoodle to have its own special, spooky holiday!
‘It’s not fun at all,’ said Billy huffily. ‘It’s a crucial time of study for a wyrdiologist. At least one of us is taking their responsibilities seriously.’ He gave Archie a meaningful stare.
Archie sighed and told them about the second meeting with the strange little man, showing them the orange leaf he’d been given.
‘I might be trying to ignore the Wyrdie Tree, but it’s not ignoring me,’ he said.
‘What does it mean?’ asked Fliss. ‘What are these signals?’
‘They are messages from the Tree itself,’ said a voice with an accent Archie recognised. The little man was stood next to their table.
‘It’s you!’ said Fliss. ‘You were on the moor.’
‘That was my brother,’ said the man.
‘And I saw you outside the dentist’s,’ said Archie.
‘That was my other brother,’ said the man, sounding a bit embarrassed. ‘We’ve all been searching for you, Guardian. I have brought you this.’
From inside his cloak he produced a small, black, sleepy animal. Its velvety nose sniffed the air.
‘That’s a mole,’ said Fliss.
‘Sorry,’ said the man, hurriedly putting the creature back in his cloak. ‘That’s Ingeborg. She likes to snooze in my pocket.’
He then presented Archie with a third leaf. This one was red.
‘The final signal,’ he explained. ‘The Tree has summoned you, Guardian. And this time, you must heed its call.’
‘I haven’t had the chance, the other times,’ said Archie. ‘You keep disappearing.’
The man blinked in surprise. ‘We thought you’d know what to do,’ he said. ‘But then we’ve never had a Guardian so young … You
’re supposed to reply, “the Guardian accepts the summons”.’
‘There’s no manual for this job,’ said Archie in frustration. ‘What does the Tree want?’
‘We cannot talk here,’ said the man, lowering his voice. His eyes darted about the room. ‘The Mirk could be hiding anywhere! Meet us at the Tree tomorrow. We will be waiting.’
‘Hold on a minute!’ said Archie. ‘Why can’t we talk here? What’s the Mirk?’ But the man had already slipped away into the crowd of customers and was gone, leaving only the smell of warm earth behind.
‘It looks like we are going to visit the Wyrdie Tree, after all,’ said Fliss smugly. ‘We’re having an adventure whether you like it or not, Archie McBudge.’
‘There’s only one problem with that,’ said Archie, helping himself to another Gingerbread Dragon. ‘We don’t actually know where the Wyrdie Tree is …’
‘It’s in the forest, silly!’ said Fliss.
‘But where?’ said Archie. ‘And how will we know which tree it is?’
‘There has to be some clue to the Tree’s location amongst all those books and papers in the Honeystone Hall library,’ said Billy, as they left the café.
‘Can’t we just go to the forest and wander around for a bit?’ said Fliss impatiently. ‘Maybe there’s a sign that says Wyrdie Tree – this way.’
Billy gave her a withering look.
‘The forest is vast,’ he said, stretching his arms out like a nerdy-looking scarecrow. ‘And because the Wyrdie Tree is there it’s full of enchantment. Even locals rarely go into the old forest. Paths are few and can lead you in never-ending circles. There are stories of people who have gone into the forest and have never been seen again. We could end up as food for wood waggles – Macabre Creepy Scale rating of six point seven – if we’re not careful.’
They wandered through the warren of Dundoodle’s streets, back to the Hall. Fliss and Billy were chatting all the way, but Archie was quiet. Even as they ambled up the drive to his home he couldn’t shake off a feeling of unease. Not because he was getting involved in an adventure he hadn’t asked for, nor because they had to visit the mysterious and magical forest. Ever since the stranger had mentioned the Mirk, Archie had felt a growing sense of dread. He wasn’t sure why. He had no idea what the Mirk was. But now it felt as if he was carrying a great weight on his shoulders. The summer air was stifling and the afternoon shadows seemed to have deepened and become menacing. Today, the usually friendly-looking stone dragons that dotted the walls of the house appeared hostile and unwelcoming. He was glad to get inside, away from … whatever-it-was.
Mum phoned to say she wouldn’t be home until dinner, as she had been asked to go to a meeting about the Unquiet Night Festival. The organisers were hoping to recruit her on to their committee. So the children went to find Tablet, Honeystone Hall’s decrepit butler, to see if he could tell them anything about the odd little men. Blossom joined them, taking her usual place on Fliss’s shoulder.
Tablet, who happened to be half-gnome and knew all about their adventures, was bad at pretty much everything to do with looking after a big house. In his opinion, dust was a form of interior decoration. ‘And anyway, you don’t notice it after a century or two,’ he always said. However, he made up for it by being a brilliant cook – his famous walnut sponge cake was even envied by Clootie Dumpling – and they found him in the kitchen taking a delicious-smelling apple pie out of the oven.
When Archie told Tablet about the strangers and the different coloured leaves, a frown fell across the butler’s already much wrinkled face. He put some meat scraps in a bowl for Sherbet and, with much wobbling, eased himself into a chair at the large kitchen table.
‘Nothing like this has happened in all my time with the McBudges, Master Archie,’ he said, as the children demolished the still warm apple pie. ‘And I’ve been with the family a very long time.’ He cackled wheezily. Fliss had guessed Tablet’s age to be somewhere between ninety-nine and ‘post-Jurassic’. ‘But I do recall a story from several hundred years ago,’ he continued, ‘back when the family still lived at Pookiecrag Castle. Lady Archibelle McBudge, known to the family as Belle, received a summons from the Tree. That was probably the last time it happened. I don’t know what it was about, but I do know it’s too rare an event to be ignored.’
‘I don’t suppose you know where the Wyrdie Tree is?’ Fliss asked the old butler.
‘It’s in the old forest,’ said Tablet. ‘Oh, you mean directions?’ he added, in response to Fliss’s masterclass in eye-rolling. ‘Let’s see, you go left at the first oak, then there’s a patch of ferns, then … er … turn left again … or is it right?’
‘We need to find a map,’ Billy hissed at Archie, grabbing his wrist and forcing him to put his cup of hot chocolate down. ‘Now.’
Archie sighed and reluctantly led the way to the library. Sherbet trotted along with them, yawning contentedly after his tasty meal. At the library door, Archie stopped, his fingers on the handle. A sweet scent had wafted over from across the hallway, and made him turn towards the portrait room.
‘I wonder if Belle McBudge is in there,’ he said, remembering Tablet’s story.
They peered into the neglected room. Cobweb-covered paintings of all Archie’s McBudge ancestors hung there, their faces carrying the air of disapproval that old portraits always seem to have. Archie felt their disapproval was stronger than ever – did they understand his need to live in the ordinary world, just for a while, before taking on the responsibilities of being a McBudge?
‘Found her!’ said Fliss suddenly. In a corner – lost amongst other, grander portraits – hung a painting of a young woman wearing a jewelled dress and veil. The woman was looking into a gold mirror with a kind but sad face. Behind her on a table sat a little statue of a honey dragon, a common decoration in the Hall. The label underneath the picture read:
Lady Archibelle McBudge (1498–1560)
‘If she received a summons, then it must have been about five hundred years ago,’ said Archie. ‘Tablet was right – the Tree doesn’t send them out regularly.’
‘She doesn’t look very happy about it,’ said Fliss, peering at the woman’s face. ‘Come on – back to the library!’
Papers and ancient manuscripts were still piled up on the library desk, where Billy had left them.
‘There are loads of atlases here, bursting with maps,’ said Billy, scanning the bookshelves. ‘Where do we start?’
There was a rattling from one of the shelves above him. A pair of heavy-looking books were shaking and juddering. Something was trying to push past them, trying to get out of the bookcase from its hiding place behind the larger volumes. With a spurt of dust, the large tomes gave way and a small, tattered book hurtled off the shelf and slammed on to the desk, knocking a pile of scrolls to the floor.
‘I think the library is helping us,’ said Archie, as they stared at the book. It was leather-bound with gold edging. Archie carefully opened the cover. Inside, in graceful handwriting, was written the name Belle. A globe was printed underneath.
‘It’s an atlas!’ said Fliss. ‘Belle McBudge’s atlas!’
Just then, a breeze blew down the chimney and swept out of the fireplace beneath the portrait of Great-Uncle Archibald. It gathered up the loose parchment and papers so that they flew and danced about the desk, a blizzard whipping around the children and flying into their faces. Sherbet ran for cover under an armchair. The pages of the atlas turned furiously, thumbed by an invisible hand.
‘Wyrdie-weather alert!’ cried Billy, and was about to give a Creepy Scale rating when he half-swallowed a dusty scroll that was battering him around the face.
Just as suddenly, the air became still. Paper and parchment floated lazily to the floor.
‘What just happened?’ said Fliss, dragging her hair out of her eyes.
‘Look!’ said Archie, pointing at the desk. ‘The atlas. It’s opened at exactly the right page …’
In front of them lay a
hand-drawn map of Dundoodle. It had been tucked inside the pages of the atlas. Archie held it up. He recognised the landmarks of Ben Doodle and Pookiecrag Island, at the edge of the loch. Dundoodle looked much smaller than the bustling town he knew. It must have only been a little village once. Dotted lines marked paths that led into the old forest.
‘Where’s the Wyrdie Tree?’ said Fliss. ‘It’s not marked.’
‘And which path goes to it?’ said Archie, scratching his chin. ‘These just wander around.’
‘Perhaps it’s a puzzle!’ said Billy. ‘Let’s have a closer look.’ He hastily threw a large book to one side to clear some space on the desk. A roar erupted from Blossom: the book had landed on the end of her tail! A ball of flame burst from the startled little dragon’s mouth, missing the map by a hair’s breadth.
‘Poor Blossom!’ said Fliss, scooping up the dragon into her arms. ‘Don’t be so careless, Billy!’
‘She almost burned the map to ash!’ the boy countered. ‘A priceless, centuries-old document could have been lost forever!’
‘Shut up, you two!’ said Archie. The others looked at him in surprise. His eyes were shining and there was a smile on his face. Then he spoke softly to the honey dragon. ‘Blossom, give us another fire-burst, please. Like you did just now.’
The dragon blinked at him in confusion, but breathed in deeply then released a gentle stream of fire. Archie held the map in front of the flames so that they lit it up, but not close enough for the parchment to singe. Bright spots of orange appeared on its surface, forming a pattern.
‘The light from the fire makes another pathway appear on the map,’ he said. ‘One that’s normally invisible.’ The others crowded around. A glowing, dotted line led right to the middle of the forest, where there was a symbol of a tree with a curling W written on it.
‘It’s Arcanolux Ink,’ said Billy. ‘I’ve heard of this – it’s like invisible ink, except you need a magical light-source to see it. That lantern you found on the Quest would probably work too.’
The Dentist of Darkness Page 2