Septimus Heap, Book One: Magyk

by Angie Sage

  And now all those on the chicken boat had to do was wait. And watch. And that is what, hearts thumping in their ears, they did. They watched the Hunter and the Apprentice change from shadowy shapes into the dreaded figures they had seen months earlier at the mouth of the Deppen Ditch, and they looked just as nasty and dangerous as they had then.

  But the Thing remained a shadowy shape.

  The canoe had reached a narrow ditch that would take it past the turning into the Mott. All three watchers held their breath as they waited for it to reach the turning. Maybe, thought Jenna, clutching at straws, maybe the Enchantment is working better than Aunt Zelda thinks and the Hunter can’t see the cottage.

  The canoe turned into the Mott. The Hunter could see the cottage only too well.

  In his mind the Hunter rehearsed the three steps of the Plan:

  STEP ONE: Secure the Queenling. Take prisoner and install in canoe under guard of accompanying Magog. Shoot only if necessary. Otherwise return to DomDaniel, who wished to “do the job himself” this time.

  STEP TWO: Shoot vermin, i.e., the witch woman and the Wizard boy. And the dog.

  STEP THREE: A little bit of private enterprise.

  Take the Young Army deserter prisoner.

  Return to Young Army. Collect bounty.

  Satisfied with his plan, the Hunter paddled noiselessly along the Mott, heading for the landing stage.

  Boy 412 saw him drawing near and motioned Jenna and Nicko to stay still. He knew any movement would give them away. In Boy 412’s mind they had now progressed from Watch and Wait to Ambush. And in Ambush, Boy 412 remembered Catchpole telling him as he breathed down his neck, Stillness Is All.

  Until the Instant of Action.

  The fifty-six Shield Bugs, lined up along the gunnels, understood exactly what Boy 412 was doing. A large part of the Charm with which they had been created had actually been taken from the Young Army training manual. Boy 412 and the Shield Bugs were acting as one.

  The Hunter, Apprentice and the Magog had no idea that very soon they would be part of an Instant of Action. The Hunter had tied up at the landing stage and was busy trying to get the Apprentice out of the canoe without making any noise and without the boy falling into the water. Normally the Hunter would not have cared in the slightest if the Apprentice had fallen in. In fact, he might have given him a sly push if it hadn’t been for the fact that the Apprentice would have made a loud splash and no doubt done a lot of squawking in the bargain. So, promising himself that he’d push the irritating little so-and-so into the next available cold water when he got the chance, the Hunter had silently eased himself out of the canoe and then pulled the Apprentice up onto the landing stage.

  The Magog slunk down into the canoe, pulled its black hood over its blind-worm eye, which was troubled by the bright moonlight, and stayed put. What happened on the island was none of its business. It was there to take custody of the Princess and to act as a guard against the marsh creatures during the long journey. It had done its job remarkably well, apart from one irritating incident that had been as much the fault of the Apprentice as anything. But no Marsh Wraith or Brownie had dared approach the canoe with the Magog perched on it, and the slime the Magog extruded had covered the hull of the canoe and caused all the Water Nixies’ suckers to slip off, burning them unpleasantly in the process.

  The Hunter was pleased with the Hunt so far. He smiled his usual smile, which never reached his eyes. At last they were here at the White Witch’s hideaway, after a grueling paddle across the marsh and that wasteful encounter with some stupid marsh animal who kept getting in the way. The Hunter’s smile faded at the memory of their meeting with the Boggart. He did not approve of wasting bullets. You never knew when you might need the extra one. He cradled his pistol in his hand and very slowly and deliberately loaded a silver bullet.

  Jenna saw the silver pistol glint in the moonlight. She saw the fifty-six Shield Bugs lined up ready for action and decided to keep her own bug beside her. Just in case. So she put her hand over the bug to quiet it. The bug obediently sheathed its sword and rolled into a ball. Jenna slipped the bug into her pocket. If the Hunter carried a pistol, then she would carry a bug.

  With the Apprentice following in the Hunter’s footsteps as he’d been instructed, the pair crept silently up the little path that led from the landing stage to the cottage, passing the chicken boat on its way. As they reached the chicken boat the Hunter stopped. He had heard something. Human heartbeats. Three sets of very fast human heartbeats. He raised his pistol…

  Aaaeeeiiiigh!!

  The scream of fifty-six Shield Bugs is a terrible scream. It dislocates the three tiny bones inside the ear and creates an incredible feeling of panic. Those who know about Shield Bugs will do the only thing they can: stuff their fingers in their ears and hope to control the panic. This is what the Hunter did; he stood completely still, put his fingers deep into his ears, and if he felt a flicker of panic, it did not trouble him for more than a moment.

  The Apprentice of course knew nothing about Shield Bugs. So he did what anyone would do when confronted with a swarm of small green things flying toward you, waving scalpel-sharp swords and screeching so high that your ears felt like they would burst. He ran. Faster than he had ever run before, the Apprentice hurtled down to the Mott, hoping to get into the canoe and paddle to safety.

  The Hunter knew that, given a choice, a Shield Bug will always chase a moving enemy and ignore a still one, which is exactly what happened. To the Hunter’s great satisfaction, all fifty-six Shield Bugs decided that the enemy was the Apprentice and pursued him shrilly down to the Mott, where the terrified boy hurled himself into the freezing water to escape the clattering green swarm.

  The intrepid Shield Bugs hurled themselves into the Mott after the Apprentice, doing what they had to do, following the enemy to the end, but unfortunately for them, the end they met was their own. As each bug hit the water it sank like a stone, its heavy green armor dragging it down to the sticky mud at the bottom of the Mott. The Apprentice, shocked and gasping with the cold, hauled himself out onto the bank and lay shivering under a bush, too afraid to move.

  The Magog watched the scene with no apparent interest at all. Then, when all the fuss had died down, he started to trawl the depths of the mud with his long arms and pick out the drowned bugs one by one. He sat contentedly on the canoe, sucking the bugs dry and crunching them into a smooth green paste with his sharp yellow fangs—armor, swords and all—before he slowly sucked them down into his stomach.

  The Hunter smiled and looked up at the wheelhouse of the chicken boat. He hadn’t expected it to be this easy. All three of them waiting for him like sitting ducks.

  “Are you going to come down, or am I going to come up and get you?” he asked coldly.

  “Run,” hissed Nicko to Jenna.

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll be okay. It’s you he’s after. Just go. Now.”

  Nicko raised his voice and spoke to the Hunter. “Please don’t shoot. I’ll come down.”

  “Not just you, sonny. You’re all coming down. The girl first.”

  Nicko pushed Jenna away. “Go!” he hissed.

  Jenna seemed unable to move, unwilling to leave what felt like the safety of the chicken boat. Boy 412 recognized the terror on her face. He had felt like that so many times before in the Young Army, and he knew that unless he grabbed her, just as Boy 409 had once done for him to save him from a Forest wolverine, Jenna would be unable to move. And if he didn’t grab her, the Hunter would. Quickly, Boy 412 propelled Jenna out of the wheelhouse, clasped her hand tightly and jumped with her off the far side of the chicken boat, away from the Hunter. As they landed on a pile of chicken dung mixed with straw, they heard the Hunter swear.

  “Run!” hissed Nicko, looking down from the deck.

  Boy 412 pulled Jenna to her feet, but she was still unwilling to go.

  “We can’t leave Nicko,” she gasped.

  “I’ll be all righ
t, Jen. Just go!” yelled Nicko, oblivious to the Hunter and his pistol.

  The Hunter was tempted to shoot the Wizard boy there and then, but his priority was the Queenling, not Wizard scum. So, as Jenna and Boy 412 picked themselves up off the dung heap, clambered over the chicken wire and ran for their lives, the Hunter leaped after them as if his own life too depended on it.

  Boy 412 kept hold of Jenna as he headed away from the Hunter, around the back of the cottage and into Aunt Zelda’s fruit bushes. He had the advantage over the Hunter in that he knew the island, but that did not bother the Hunter. He was doing what he did best, tracking a prey and a young and terrified one at that. Easy. After all, where could they run to? It was only a matter of time before he got them.

  Boy 412 and Jenna ducked and weaved through the bushes, leaving the Hunter struggling to find his way through the prickly plants, but all too soon Jenna and Boy 412 reached the end of the fruit bushes and reluctantly emerged into the exposed grassy space that led down to the duck pond. At that moment the moon came out from behind the clouds, and the Hunter saw his prey outlined against the backdrop of the marshes.

  Boy 412 ran, pulling Jenna along with him, but the Hunter was slowly gaining on them and did not seem to tire, unlike Jenna, who felt she could not run another step. They skirted the duck pond and raced up to the grassy knoll at the end of the island. Horribly close behind them they could hear the footsteps of the Hunter, echoing as he too reached the knoll and sprinted over the hollow ground.

  Boy 412 dodged this way and that between the small bushes scattered about, dragging Jenna behind him, aware that the Hunter was almost near enough to reach out and grab her.

  And then suddenly the Hunter was near enough. He lunged forward and dived at Jenna’s feet.

  “Jenna!” yelled Boy 412, pulling her out of the Hunter’s grasp and jumping with her into a bush.

  Jenna crashed into the bush after Boy 412, only to find that suddenly the bush wasn’t there anymore, and she was tumbling headlong into a dark, cold, endless space.

  She landed with a jolt on a sandy floor. A moment later there was a thud, and Boy 412 lay sprawled in the darkness beside her.

  Jenna sat up, dazed and aching, and rubbed the back of her head where she had hit the ground. Something very strange had happened. She tried to remember what it was. Not their escape from the Hunter, not the fall through the ground, but something even stranger. She shook her head to try to clear the fuzziness in her brain. That was it. She remembered.

  Boy 412 had spoken.

  35

  GONE TO GROUND

  You can talk,” said Jenna, rubbing the bump on her head.

  “Of course I can talk,” said Boy 412.

  “But why haven’t you, then? You haven’t ever said anything. Except for your name. I mean, number.”

  “That’s all we were meant to say if we were captured. Rank and number. Nothing else. So that’s what I did.”

  “You weren’t captured. You were saved,” Jenna pointed out.

  “I know,” said Boy 412. “Well, I know that now. I didn’t then.”

  Jenna found it very strange to be actually having a conversation with Boy 412 after all this time. And even stranger to be having it at the bottom of a pit in complete darkness.

  “I wish we had a light,” said Jenna. “I keep thinking the Hunter’s going to creep up on us.” She shivered.

  Boy 412 reached up inside his hat, drew out his ring and slipped it onto his right index finger. It fitted perfectly. He cupped his other hand around the dragon ring, warming it and willing it to give out its golden glow. The ring responded, and a soft glow spread out from Boy 412’s hands until he could clearly see Jenna looking at him through the darkness. Boy 412 felt very happy. The ring was brighter than ever, and soon it cast a warm circle of light around them as they sat on the sandy floor of the tunnel.

  “That’s amazing,” said Jenna. “Where did you find it?”

  “Down here,” said Boy 412.

  “What, you just found it? Just now?”

  “No. I found it before.”

  “Before what?”

  “Before—remember when we got lost in the haar?”

  Jenna nodded.

  “Well, I fell down here then. And I thought I was going to be stuck here forever. Until I found the ring. It’s Magyk. It lit up and showed me the way out.”

  So that was what happened, thought Jenna. It made sense now. Boy 412 sitting smugly waiting for them when she and Nicko finally found their way back, frozen and soaked after hours of wandering around looking for him. She had just known he had some kind of secret. And then all that time he had been walking around with the ring and never showing anyone. There was more to Boy 412 than met the eye.

  “It’s a beautiful ring,” she said, gazing at the gold dragon curled around Boy 412’s finger. “Can I hold it?”

  A little reluctantly, Boy 412 took off the ring and gave it to Jenna. She cradled it carefully in her hands, but the light began to fade and the darkness drew in around them. Soon the light from the ring had completely died.

  “Have you dropped it?” Boy 412 asked accusingly.

  “No,” said Jenna, “it’s still here in my hand. But it doesn’t work for me.”

  “Of course it works. It’s a Magyk ring,” said Boy 412. “Here, give it back. I’ll show you.” He took the ring and immediately the tunnel was filled with light. “See, it’s easy.”

  “Easy for you,” said Jenna, “but not for me.”

  “I don’t see why,” said Boy 412, puzzled.

  But Jenna had seen why. She had seen it over and over again, growing up in a household of Wizards. And although Jenna knew only too well that she was not Magykal, she could tell who was.

  “It’s not the ring that’s Magyk. It’s you,” she told Boy 412.

  “I’m not Magyk,” said Boy 412. He sounded so definite that Jenna didn’t argue.

  “Well, whatever you are, you’d better keep hold of the ring,” she said. “So how do we get out?”

  Boy 412 put the dragon ring on and set off along the tunnel, leading Jenna confidently through the twists and turns that had so confused him before, until at last they arrived at the top of the steps.

  “Careful,” he said. “I fell down these last time and nearly lost the ring.”

  At the bottom of the steps Jenna stopped. Something had made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

  “I’ve been here before,” she whispered.

  “When?” asked Boy 412, a bit put out. It was his place.

  “In my dreams,” muttered Jenna. “I know this place. I used to dream about it in the summer when I was at home. But it was bigger than this…”

  “Come on,” said Boy 412 briskly.

  “I wonder if it is bigger, if there’s an echo.” Jenna raised her voice as she spoke. there’s an echo there’s an echo there’s an echo there’s an echo there’s an echo there’s an echo…sounded all around them.

  “Shhh,” whispered Boy 412. “He might hear us. Through the ground. They train them to hear like dogs.”

  “Who?”

  “Hunters.”

  Jenna fell silent. She had forgotten about the Hunter, and now she didn’t want to be reminded.

  “There’re pictures all over the walls,” Jenna whispered to Boy 412, “and I know I’ve dreamed about them. They look really old. It’s like they’re telling a story.”

  Boy 412 hadn’t taken much notice of the pictures before, but now he held his ring up to the smooth marble walls that formed this part of the tunnel. He could see simple, almost primitive shapes in deep blues, reds and yellows showing what seemed to be dragons, a boat being built, then a lighthouse and a shipwreck.

  Jenna pointed to more shapes farther along the wall. “And these look like plans for a tower or something.”

  “It’s the Wizard Tower,” said Boy 412. “Look at the Pyramid on the top.”

  “I didn’t know the Wizard Tower was so old,” said Jenn
a, running her finger over the paint and thinking that maybe she was the first person to see the pictures for thousands of years.

  “The Wizard Tower is very old,” said Boy 412. “No one knows when it was built.”

  “How do you know?” asked Jenna, surprised that Boy 412 was so definite.

  Boy 412 took a deep breath and said in a singsong voice, “The Wizard Tower is an Ancient Monument. Precious resources are squandered by the ExtraOrdinary Wizard to keep the Tower in its garish state of opulence, resources that could be used for healing the sick or making the Castle a more secure place for all to live. See, I can still remember it. We used to have to recite stuff like that every week in our Know Your Enemy lesson.”

  “Yuck,” sympathized Jenna. “Hey, I bet Aunt Zelda would be interested in all this down here,” she whispered as she followed Boy 412 along the tunnel.

  “She knows all about it already,” said Boy 412, remembering Aunt Zelda’s disappearance from the potion cupboard. “And I think she knows that I know.”

  “Why? Did she say?” asked Jenna, wondering how she had missed all this.

  “No,” said Boy 412. “But she gave me a funny look.”

  “She gives everyone funny looks,” Jenna pointed out. “It doesn’t mean she thinks they’ve been down some secret tunnel.”

  They walked on a little farther. The line of pictures had just ended and they had reached some steep steps leading upward. Jenna’s attention was caught by a small rock nestled beside the bottom step. She picked it up and showed it to Boy 412.

  “Hey, look at this. Isn’t it lovely?”

  Jenna was holding a large egg-shaped green stone. It was slippery-smooth as though someone had just polished it, and it shone with a dull sheen in the light of the ring. The green had an iridescent quality to it, like a dragonfly’s wing, and it lay heavily but perfectly balanced in her two cupped hands.