Septimus Heap, Book One: Magyk

by Angie Sage

  “It’s so smooth,” said Boy 412, stroking it gently.

  “Here, you have it,” said Jenna impulsively. “It can be your own pet rock. Like Petroc Trelawney, only bigger. We could ask Dad to get a spell for it when we go back to the Castle.”

  Boy 412 took the green rock. He wasn’t sure what to say. No one had ever given him a present before. He put the rock into his secret pocket on the inside of his sheepskin jacket. Then he remembered what Aunt Zelda had said to him when he had brought her some herbs from the garden.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  Something in the way he spoke reminded Jenna of Nicko.

  Nicko.

  Nicko and the Hunter.

  “We’ve got to get back,” said Jenna anxiously.

  Boy 412 nodded. He knew they had to go and face whatever may be waiting for them outside. He had just been enjoying feeling safe for a while.

  But he knew it couldn’t last.

  36

  FROZEN

  The trapdoor slowly rose a few inches, and Boy 412 peered out. A chill ran though him. The door to the potion cupboard had been thrown wide open, and he was looking straight at the heels of the Hunter’s muddy brown boots.

  Standing with his back to the potion cupboard, only a few feet away, was the figure of the Hunter, his green cloak thrown over his shoulder and his silver pistol held at the ready. He was facing the kitchen door, poised as if about to rush forward.

  Boy 412 waited to see what the Hunter was about to do, but the man did nothing at all. He was, thought Boy 412, waiting. Probably for Aunt Zelda to walk out of the kitchen.

  Willing Aunt Zelda to stay away, Boy 412 reached down and held his hand out for Jenna’s Shield Bug.

  Jenna stood anxiously on the ladder below him. She could tell that all was not well from how tense and still Boy 412 had become. When his hand reached down she took the rolled-up Shield Bug from her pocket and passed it up to Boy 412, as they had planned, sending it a silent good luck wish as she did so. Jenna had begun to like the bug and was sorry to see it go.

  Carefully, Boy 412 took the bug and slowly pushed it through the open trapdoor. He set the tiny armored green ball down on the floor, making sure he kept hold of it, and pointed it in the right direction.

  Straight at the Hunter.

  Then he let go. At once the bug uncurled itself, locked its piercing green eyes on to the Hunter and unsheathed its sword with a small swishing noise. Boy 412 held his breath at the noise and hoped the Hunter had not heard, but the stocky man in green made no move. Boy 412 slowly breathed out and, with a flick of his finger, he sent the bug into the air, toward its target, with a shrill shriek.

  The Hunter did nothing.

  He didn’t turn or even flinch as the bug landed on his shoulder and raised its sword to strike. Boy 412 was impressed. He knew the Hunter was tough, but surely this was taking things too far.

  And then Aunt Zelda appeared.

  “Look out!” yelled Boy 412. “The Hunter!”

  Aunt Zelda jumped. Not because of the Hunter but because she had never heard Boy 412 speak before and so she had no idea who had spoken. Or where the unknown voice was coming from.

  Then, to Boy 412’s amazement, Aunt Zelda snatched the Shield Bug off the Hunter and tapped it to make it roll back into a ball.

  And still the Hunter did nothing.

  Briskly, Aunt Zelda put the bug into one of her many patchwork pockets and looked around her, wondering where the unfamiliar voice had come from. And then she caught sight of Boy 412 peering out from the slightly raised trapdoor.

  “Is that you?” she gasped. “Thank goodness you’re all right. Where’s Jenna?”

  “Here,” said Boy 412, half afraid to speak in case the Hunter heard. But the Hunter gave no sign of having heard anything at all, and Aunt Zelda treated him as nothing more than an awkward piece of furniture as she walked around his immobile figure, lifted up the trapdoor and helped Boy 412 and Jenna out.

  “What a wonderful sight, both of you safe,” she said happily. “I was so worried.”

  “But—what about him.” Boy 412 pointed to the Hunter.

  “Frozen,” said Aunt Zelda with an air of satisfaction. “Frozen solid and staying that way. Until I decide what to do with him.”

  “Where’s Nicko? Is he all right?” asked Jenna as she clambered out.

  “He’s fine. He’s gone after the Apprentice,” said Aunt Zelda.

  As Aunt Zelda finished speaking, the front door crashed open and the dripping-wet Apprentice was propelled inside, followed by an equally dripping-wet Nicko.

  “Pig,” spat Nicko, slamming the door. He let go of the boy and went over to the blazing fire to get dry.

  The Apprentice dripped unhappily on the floor and looked over to the Hunter for help. He dripped even more unhappily when he saw what had happened. The Hunter stood Frozen in mid-lunge with his pistol, staring into space with empty eyes. The Apprentice gulped—a big woman in a patchwork tent was advancing purposefully toward him, and he knew only too well who it was from the Illustrated Enemy Cards he had had to study before he came on the Hunt.

  It was the Mad White Witch, Zelda Zanuba Heap.

  Not to mention the Wizard boy, Nickolas Benjamin Heap, and 412, the lowlife runaway deserter. They were all here, just as he had been told they would be. But where was the one they had really come for? Where was the Queenling?

  The Apprentice looked around and caught sight of Jenna in the shadows behind Boy 412. He took in Jenna’s gold circlet shining against her long dark hair and her violet eyes, just like the picture on the Enemy Card (drawn very skillfully by Linda Lane, the spy). The Queenling was a little taller than he had expected, but it was definitely her.

  A sly smile played on the Apprentice’s lips as he wondered if he could grab Jenna all by himself. How pleased his Master would be with him. Surely then his Master would forget all his past failures and would stop threatening to send him into the Young Army as an Expendable. Especially if he had succeeded where even the Hunter had failed.

  He was going to do it.

  Taking everyone by surprise, the Apprentice, although hampered by his sodden robes, flung himself forward and seized hold of Jenna. He was unexpectedly strong for his size, and he wrapped a wiry arm around her throat, almost choking her. Then he started to drag her toward the door.

  Aunt Zelda made a move toward the Apprentice, and he flicked open his pocketknife, pressing it hard against Jenna’s throat.

  “Anyone tries to stop me, and she gets it,” he snarled, propelling Jenna out the open door and down the path to the canoe and the waiting Magog. The Magog paid the scene no attention at all. It was immersed in liquifying its fifteenth drowned Shield Bug, and its duties did not commence until the prisoner was in the canoe.

  She nearly was.

  But Nicko was not going to let his sister go without a fight. He hurtled after the Apprentice and threw himself onto him. The Apprentice landed on top of Jenna, and there was a scream. A trickle of blood ran from underneath her.

  Nicko yanked the Apprentice out of the way.

  “Jen, Jen!” he gasped. “Are you hurt?”

  Jenna had jumped up and was staring at the blood on the path.

  “I—I don’t think so,” she stammered. “I think it’s him. I think he’s hurt.”

  “Serve him right,” said Nicko, kicking the knife out of the Apprentice’s reach.

  Nicko and Jenna hauled the Apprentice to his feet. He had a small cut on his arm but apart from that seemed unharmed. But he was deathly white. The Apprentice was frightened by the sight of blood, particularly his own, but he was even more frightened at the thought of what the Wizards might do to him. As they dragged him back into the cottage the Apprentice made one last attempt to escape. He twisted out of Jenna’s grasp and aimed a hefty kick at Nicko’s shins.

  A fight broke out. The Apprentice landed a nasty punch to Nicko’s stomach and was just about to kick him again when Nicko twisted his arm painf
ully behind his back.

  “Get out of that one,” Nicko told him. “Don’t think you can try and kidnap my sister and get away with it. Pig.”

  “He’d never have got away with it,” mocked Jenna. “He’s too stupid.”

  The Apprentice hated being called stupid. That was all his Master ever called him. Stupid boy. Stupid birdbrain. Stupid beetlehead. He hated it.

  “I’m not stupid.” He gasped as Nicko tightened his grip on his arm. “I can do anything I want to. I could have shot her if I’d wanted to. I already have shot something tonight. So there.”

  As soon as he said it, the Apprentice wished he hadn’t. Four pairs of accusing eyes stared at him.

  “What exactly do you mean?” Aunt Zelda asked him quietly. “You shot something?”

  The Apprentice decided to brazen it out.

  “None of your business. I can shoot what I like. And if I want to shoot some fat ball of fur that gets in my way when I am on official business, then I will.”

  There was a shocked silence. Nicko broke it.

  “Boggart. He shot the Boggart. Pig.”

  “Ouch!” yelled the Apprentice.

  “No violence, please, Nicko,” said Aunt Zelda. “Whatever he’s done, he’s just a boy.”

  “I’m not just a boy,” said the Apprentice haughtily. “I am Apprentice to DomDaniel, the Supreme Wizard and Necromancer. I am the seventh son of a seventh son.”

  “What?” asked Aunt Zelda. “What did you say?”

  “I am Apprentice to DomDaniel, the Supreme—”

  “Not that. We know that. I can see the black stars on your belt only too well, thank you.”

  “I said,” the Apprentice spoke proudly, pleased that at last someone was taking him seriously, “that I am the seventh son of a seventh son. I am Magykal.” Even though, thought the Apprentice, it hasn’t quite shown itself yet. But it will.

  “I don’t believe you,” Aunt Zelda said flatly. “I’ve never seen anyone less like a seventh son of a seventh son in my life.”

  “Well, I am,” the Apprentice insisted sulkily. “I am Septimus Heap.”

  37

  SCRYING

  He’s lying,” Nicko said angrily, pacing up and down while the Apprentice dripped dry slowly by the fire.

  The Apprentice’s green woolen robes gave off an unpleasant musty odor, which Aunt Zelda recognized as being the smell of failed spells and stale Darke Magyk. She opened a few jars of Stink Screen, and soon the air smelled pleasantly of lemon meringue pie.

  “He’s just saying it to upset us,” said Nicko indignantly. “That little pig’s name is not Septimus Heap.”

  Jenna put her arm around Nicko. Boy 412 wished he understood what was happening.

  “Who is Septimus Heap?” he asked.

  “Our brother,” said Nicko.

  Boy 412 looked even more confused.

  “He died when he was a baby,” said Jenna. “If he had lived, he would have had amazing Magykal powers. Our dad was a seventh son, you see,” Jenna told him, “but that doesn’t always make you any more Magykal.”

  “It certainly didn’t with Silas,” muttered Aunt Zelda.

  “When Dad married Mum they had six sons. They had Simon, Sam, Edd and Erik, Jo-Jo and Nicko. And then they had Septimus. So he was the seventh son of a seventh son. But he died. Just after he was born,” said Jenna. She was remembering what Sarah had told her one summer night when she was tucked in her box bed. “I always thought he was my twin brother. But it turns out he wasn’t…”

  “Oh,” said Boy 412, thinking how complicated it seemed to be to have a family.

  “So he’s definitely not our brother,” Nicko was saying. “And even if he was, I wouldn’t want him. He’s no brother of mine.”

  “Well,” said Aunt Zelda, “there’s only one way to sort this out. We can see if he’s telling the truth, which I very much doubt. Although I did always wonder about Septimus…It never seemed quite right somehow.” She opened the door and checked the moon.

  “A gibbous moon,” she said. “Nearly full. Not a bad time to scry.”

  “What?” asked Jenna, Nicko and Boy 412 in unison.

  “I’ll show you,” she said. “Come with me.”

  The duck pond was the last place they all expected to end up, but there they were, looking at the reflection of the moon in the still, black water, just as Aunt Zelda had told them to.

  The Apprentice was wedged firmly between Nicko and Boy 412, in case he should try to make a run for it. Boy 412 was pleased that Nicko trusted him at last. Not so long ago, it was Nicko who was trying to stop him from making a run for it. And now here he was, watching exactly the kind of Magyk he had been warned about in the Young Army: a full moon and a White Witch, her piercing blue eyes blazing in the moonlight, waving her arms in the air and talking about dead babies. What Boy 412 found difficult to believe was not that this was happening, but the fact that to him it now seemed quite normal. Not only that, but he realized that the people he was standing around the duck pond with—Jenna, Nicko and Aunt Zelda—meant more to him than anyone ever had in his whole life. Apart from Boy 409, of course.

  Except, thought Boy 412, he could do without the Apprentice. The Apprentice reminded him of most of the people who had tormented him in his previous life. His previous life. That, decided Boy 412, was how it was going to be. Whatever happened, he was never going back to the Young Army. Never.

  Aunt Zelda spoke in a low voice. “Now I am going to ask the moon to show us Septimus Heap.”

  Boy 412 shivered and stared at the still, dark water of the pond. In the middle lay a perfect reflection of the moon, so detailed that the seas and mountains of the moon were clearer than he had ever seen before.

  Aunt Zelda looked up at the moon and said, “Sister Moon, Sister Moon, show us, if you will, the seventh son of Silas and Sarah. Show us where he is now. Show us Septimus Heap.”

  Everyone held their breath and looked expectantly at the the surface of the pond. Jenna felt apprehensive. Septimus was dead. What would they see? A small bundle of bones? A tiny grave?

  A silence fell. The reflection of the moon began to grow bigger until a huge white, almost perfect circle filled the duck pond. At first, vague shadows began to appear in the circle. Slowly they became more defined until they saw…their own reflections.

  “See,” said the Apprentice. “You asked to see me, and there I am. I told you.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” said Nicko indignantly. “It’s just our reflections.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not,” said Aunt Zelda thoughtfully.

  “Can we see what happened to Septimus when he was born?” asked Jenna. “Then we’d know if he was still alive, wouldn’t we?”

  “Yes, we would. I’ll ask. But it’s much more difficult to see things from the past.” Aunt Zelda took a deep breath and said, “Sister Moon, Sister Moon, show us, if you will, the first day of the life of Septimus Heap.”

  The Apprentice snuffled and coughed.

  “Quiet, please,” said Aunt Zelda.

  Slowly their reflections disappeared from the surface of the water and were replaced by an exquisitely detailed scene, sharp and brilliant against the midnight darkness.

  The scene was somewhere that Jenna and Nicko knew well: their home back in the Castle. Like a tableau laid before them, the figures in the room were immobile, frozen in time. Sarah lay in a makeshift bed, holding a newborn baby, with Silas beside her. Jenna caught her breath. She had not realized how much she missed home until now. She glanced at Nicko, who had a look of concentration on his face that Jenna recognized as Nicko not looking upset.

  Suddenly everyone gasped. The figures had begun to move. Silently and smoothly, like a moving photograph, they began to play out a scene before the entranced audience—entranced, except for one.

  “My Master’s Camera Obscura is a hundred times better than this old duck pond,” the Apprentice said contemptuously.

  “Shut up,” hissed Nicko angrily
.

  The Apprentice sighed loudly and fidgeted about. It was all a load of rubbish, he thought. It’s nothing to do with me.

  The Apprentice was wrong. The events he was watching had changed his life.

  The scene unfolded before them:

  The Heaps’ room looks subtly different. Everything is newer and cleaner. Sarah Heap is much younger too; her face is fuller and there is no sadness lingering in her eyes. In fact, she looks completely happy, holding her newborn baby, Septimus. Silas is also younger; his hair is less straggly and his face less etched with worry. There are six little boys playing together quietly.

  Jenna smiled wistfully, realizing that the smallest one with the mop of unruly hair must be Nicko. He looks so cute, she thought, jumping up and down, excited and wanting to see the baby.

  Silas picks Nicko up and holds him up to see his new brother. Nicko reaches out a small, pudgy hand and gently strokes the baby’s cheek. Silas says something to him and then puts him down to toddle off and play with his older brothers.

  Now Silas is kissing Sarah and the baby good-bye. He stops and says something to Simon, the eldest, and then he is gone.

  The picture fades away, the hours are passing.

  Now the Heaps’ room is lit by candlelight. Sarah is nursing the baby, and Simon is quietly reading a story to his younger brothers. A large figure in dark blue robes, the Matron Midwife, bustles into view. She takes the baby from Sarah and lays him in the wooden box that serves as his cot. With her back to Sarah she slips a small vial of black liquid from her pocket and dips her finger into it. Then, glancing around her guiltily, the Midwife wipes her blackened finger along the baby’s lips. At once, Septimus goes limp.

  The Matron Midwife turns to Sarah, holding out the floppy baby to her. Sarah is distraught. She puts her mouth over her baby’s to try to breathe life into him, but Septimus stays as limp as a rag. Soon Sarah too feels the effects of the drug. In a daze she collapses back against her pillows.