Archie Greene and the Raven's Spell

by D D Everest

  ‘Yes,’ cried Archie, his voice breaking with relief. ‘I’m the book whisperer.’

  The beast eyed him suspiciously. ‘Well, book whisperer, I remember you now. You were in a hurry then and I sense you are in a hurry now. My brother and I let you pass last time because you guessed the password the old magician gave us, but we warned you then about the foolishness of humans. We told you that it is dangerous to come here. Why have you returned?’

  ‘Mighty bookend beast, guardian of magical books and keeper of secrets,’ Archie said. ‘I was told that the bookend beasts know more about magical books than anyone else in the magical realm,’ he added, deliberately flattering the creature.

  The griffin looked pleased. Its tone softened. ‘Who told you this?’ it enquired.

  ‘A magical book,’ replied Archie. ‘Is it true?’

  ‘Hmmm,’ considered the beast, nodding its huge eagle head. ‘I believe it is. For centuries my brother and I have kept watch over the magical books for humans. We guarded them in Alexandria. We were the ones who saved many of the magical books when the Great Library burned. Humans and their infernal fire!’ it added, bitterly.

  Archie sensed that the creature was angered by the memory of the fire that had destroyed the Great Library.

  ‘I know that you don’t put much store in humans,’ he said, trying to soothe the creature. ‘But I need your help to find my father.’

  ‘Do not speak to me of humans!’ it thundered. ‘I would not waste my time on most of them, like the thief who came here to steal my very breath. I sent him running for his life. If you would know about my breath, I told him, then feel its cold upon your skin, for it will freeze your blood and stop your heart.’

  ‘Who was this thief?’ asked Archie. ‘What did he look like?’

  ‘I did not see his face. He used cloaking magic to make himself invisible, but I would recognise his smell again. And if he returns he will not leave this place alive!’

  The griffin’s amber eyes glowered in the gloom. It was getting angry again.

  ‘Leave now and you may live – if you remain I will pass judgment on you.’

  ‘But I need your help,’ said Archie. ‘My father was trapped in a magical book. His name is Alex Greene, do you know anything about him?’

  The griffin put its head on its giant lion paws. It closed its eyes for a moment in thought. ‘If your father is imprisoned in a magical book, then it must be a drawing book.’

  ‘I know that already,’ said Archie. ‘But which one?’

  The beast opened one amber eye. ‘You humans are very impatient!’ it declared. ‘I know of one drawing book that might do such a thing: The Book of Yore.’

  Archie gasped. Could this be the answer to what had become of his father? His mind was racing, but the bookend beast was still speaking.

  ‘The Book of Yore has a treacherous nature. But your father would have to have done something to deserve such a punishment.’

  Archie thought for a moment. ‘Well, he was expelled from the museum because he took a book from Arthur Ripley’s collection. Perhaps that’s why Ripley trapped him in the book!’

  The griffin shook its head. ‘Ripley might have closed the book with your father inside, but even The Book of Yore could not imprison him without a very good reason. Your father must have broken one of the natural lores of magic.’

  The only magical lores Archie knew about were the ones introduced after the Great Fire of London. ‘You mean the Lores of Magical Restraint?’ he asked.

  The griffin grew angry again. ‘Those petty rules! Never,’ it thundered. ‘Those lores were invented by foolish humans! No, I mean the natural rules of magic – the ones that protect the universe from chaos. They are the lores of time and destiny. No one can cheat their fate.’

  Archie remembered that The Book of Prophecy had told him that before.

  ‘But how could my father have broken them?’ He demanded, his voice urgent.

  ‘That is for you to discover. This audience is at an end,’ said the beast. ‘Now leave while you can.’

  ‘But I don’t understand,’ cried Archie.

  ‘You will in time,’ said the beast. ‘John Dee said we were to help you if we could, for magic’s sake!’ And with that it turned back to stone.

  13

  The Book of Prophecy

  Loretta tutted and shook her head. She was reading the magical realm’s newspaper, the Crystal Ball, at the breakfast table. Archie read the headline across the table.

  STOLEN TOME IS BOOK OF NIGHT

  The Magical League today confirmed that the book stolen from the Royal Society of Magic two weeks ago is The Book of Night, the most feared of all the Terrible Tomes.

  It is widely believed that The Book of Night has been opened. There have been several reports of sightings of the creatures called the Pale Writers, which serve the Flame of Pandemonium, the so-called Dark Flame. The release of the Pale Writers could herald the start of a dark age of magic.

  The head of magical enforcement at the Magical League, Uther Morgred, refused to comment on claims that a growing number of followers had taken the Dark Oath, pledging allegiance to the Dark Flame. But one source close to the Royal Society of Magic admitted: ‘Frankly, we are running out of options. If we don’t find a way to stop the Dark Flame then we might as well all take the oath.’

  Calling for calm, Morgred dismissed this as scaremongering: ‘There is no need for panic,’ he said. ‘We are doing everything in our power to recover the book.’

  ‘Nonsense!’ exclaimed Loretta. ‘They’ve done absolutely nothing since the first proclamation. People want reassurance and instead we get this rubbish!’ She shook the newspaper. ‘And the Royal Society is no better. If they hadn’t been hoarding books it would never have been stolen in the first place.’

  ‘They’re waiting to see which way the wind is blowing,’ growled Woodbine. ‘They’re scared to take action until they know how many have taken the oath in case they end up on the losing side.’

  The news that The Book of Night was open had already cast a dark cloud over the museum. The elders and apprentices were edgy.

  Even more worrying, ever since the attack by the Pale Writer, Archie had had the feeling that someone was following him. Inside the museum he was sure he could hear stealthy footsteps behind him sometimes, but when he turned round there was no one there. It was all very unsettling and he hoped he was just imagining things.

  Almost a week had passed since he’d told his friends that he would consult The Book of Prophecy at the first opportunity, but in reality he kept putting it off. So when Bramble had another idea he leaped at it.

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ she said, as they were drinking hot chocolate in Quill’s. ‘If Fabian Grey wrote down his vision, then whatever he did with it would be recorded in The Book of Yore.’

  Archie started at the mention of the book.

  She was right! The Book of Yore contained the history of magic. Such an important moment would have to be in the book.

  The Book of Yore could be treacherous – Archie knew that from his own dealings with it and from what the bookend beast had told him. After all, it had been The Book of Yore which had trapped him in the burning Library of Alexandria. And according to the bookend beast it could have trapped his father, too.

  But on the occasions Archie had consulted the book since his scare, his retrospectre had kept him safe. As long as he used the spell again, he should be all right. He’d rather take his chances with The Book of Yore than The Book of Prophecy any day. Besides, he might find out what had happened to his family once and for all.

  ‘That’s brilliant!’ he cried. ‘Bramble, you’re a genius. Why didn’t I think of that?’

  Bramble smiled. ‘Because you’re not a genius?’

  Archie grinned back.

  ‘But I meant what I said about you consulting The Book of Prophecy, Archie. Don’t try anything on your own this time. You need the club’s help.’

 
*

  Archie got his chance to put Bramble’s idea into action sooner than he expected. The next day was Saturday and the museum was quiet at the weekend. Archie had been in the archive and was walking past the Scriptorium. There was no one around.

  It was too good an opportunity to miss. He knew Bramble had said he should wait to have someone there to help him, but he was sure she would understand when he explained later. After all, she’d made him promise not to risk The Book of Prophecy and he wasn’t going to. He pushed the door open. The magic torches on the wall blazed with light, illuminating the room. Archie slipped inside.

  At the far end of the room he could see the glass dome that contained The Book of Prophecy and The Book of Reckoning. He climbed the wooden stairs to get a view of the two Books of Destiny. The Book of Reckoning was open as always, the blue bennu quill dancing in the air as it kept the tally of life and death.

  The Book of Prophecy was closed. It had whispered to Archie before to warn him about the Alchemist’s Curse, but today it was silent and Archie was relieved.

  Stepping off the wooden platform, he turned his attention to The Book of Yore. A thick brown bruiser of a book, it was in its usual place at the other end of the Scriptorium.

  The last time he’d tried to consult it about his father, the book had been unable – or was it unwilling? – to help. He didn’t understand why that was but he realised that he had to be careful what he asked. The Book of Yore was tricky and capable of twisting his words.

  Archie clutched the Emerald Eye in his hand and felt its reassuring warmth.

  He closed his eyes in concentration. ‘Gadabout,’ he said, pronouncing the magical name that allowed him to cast the retrospectre spell. The crystal pendant began to pulse and Archie felt the shadow of his soul slip out of his body as he had the previous times.

  He took a step, his ghost-like retrospectre leaving a trail of silvery light. He glanced back at his physical body, a look of concentration frozen on his face and his hand still gripping the Emerald Eye. It was a weird sensation to see himself like that, one that he would never get used to.

  He approached The Book of Yore. ‘I wish to consult the past,’ he said, trying to strike a commanding tone.

  He was concentrating so hard that he didn’t notice the door to the Scriptorium open and close behind him, or hear stealthy footsteps as someone crept into the room.

  Archie heard the raspy sandpaper voice reply. ‘The past is gone. Those who disturb it may not change it, but they may be changed by it.’

  ‘I understand,’ said Archie, his heart beating faster. ‘But I need to know if Grey wrote down his vision. I need to know how he was meant to defeat the Dark Flame.’

  There was a long silence, as if The Book of Yore was deciding. Archie wondered if it was going to refuse him again, but it suddenly flipped open.

  ‘The past is full of surprises, book whisperer. Are you ready to face the truth?’

  Archie swallowed hard. ‘I am ready,’ he said.

  The pages turned as if a wind blew through them.

  ‘Your page is marked.’

  The book fell open to where a bookmark had appeared. The page rippled like the surface of a lake. The date at the top of the page was 2nd September 1666, the night of the Great Fire of London.

  Archie hesitated.

  ‘What’s the matter, book whisperer?’ asked the voice. ‘Afraid of what you might discover?’

  ‘I’ve seen this night before,’ said Archie. ‘You’re tricking me.’

  ‘The past has many rooms, book whisperer.’

  Archie thought he heard the voice laugh. But it was too late for him to resist. There was a rushing sound in his ears and he was drawn into the page like smoke up a chimney.

  *

  He recognised the scene outside Thomas Farrinor’s bakery in Pudding Lane immediately.

  Through their magical experiments, the original Alchemists’ Club had started the Great Fire of London. They had succeeded in making azoth, which it seemed Grey had intended to use to rewrite The Opus Magus and restore the magical books. But the plan had gone disastrously wrong – one of the group’s members, Felicia Nightshade, had tried to complete the Unfinished Spell in The Grim Grimoire. When Grey had tried to stop her, the Grimoire had cursed him and the other alchemists and set fire to the bakery.

  But Archie already knew all this, so why was The Book of Yore showing him again? What had he missed before?

  As he observed the scene, a man in a scarlet cloak appeared and entered the building. From the white streak in his hair, Archie recognised him as Fabian Grey.

  Archie followed him down to the cellar as he’d done before and watched in fascination as the same scene played out. He saw the five members of the original Alchemists’ Club making azoth, and the showdown between Grey and Felicia Nightshade that caused the blaze. Roderick Trevellan, Angelica Ripley and Braxton Foxe fled from the burning building, up the stairs to the street.

  Felicia Nightshade followed them through the choking smoke to the safety of the street above. Only Grey remained behind, desperately trying to put out the fire.

  As Archie watched, the alchemist tried to beat out the flames but he was losing the battle. He sank to his knees and then slumped forward, overcome by the smoke. With a shock Archie realised that Grey would die in the smoke-filled cellar. But this couldn’t be right! Archie knew that Grey had survived.

  The fire was burning fiercely and there were groaning sounds from the wooden structure, signalling that the building was about to collapse. Archie felt his heart beating fast. He had to do something to save Grey.

  And then Archie saw him, the man in the blue cloak. It was the same man Archie had seen the last time he’d consulted The Book of Yore. Archie remembered that the man had passed him before on the stairs and it suddenly struck him as odd that he should be racing into a burning building when everyone else was trying to escape.

  The man plunged into the smoke-filled room. Covering his face with his sleeve, he forced his way through the flames until he reached Grey’s slumped figure. With a mighty effort he hoisted Grey up onto his shoulder in a fireman’s lift. Then he seized The Grim Grimoire in his other hand and stumbled from the blazing cellar.

  Archie hadn’t seen any of this before. He’d assumed that Grey had managed to escape on his own when he realised he couldn’t put the fire out. But now Archie saw that without his mysterious rescuer Grey would have died.

  The smoke was so thick now it was hard to see. The stranger climbed the stairs and staggered out into the street. By now Pudding Lane was thronged with people.

  A woman stepped forward. She had a scarf tied around her face to keep out the smoke. ‘Let them through,’ she cried. The crowd parted and Grey’s rescuer, still carrying Grey over his shoulder, passed through.

  ‘Is he all right?’ asked the woman.

  ‘He’s alive,’ said the man in the blue cloak, ‘but we need to get him away from here.’

  He set Grey on his feet and the woman helped support him as they made their way down Pudding Lane away from the fire.

  Archie watched for a moment and then he raced after them, his retrospectre casting a silvery light as he ran. But at the end of the street, he stopped. They’d disappeared. The streets were full of frightened voices as people raised the alarm. A pall of black smoke from the burning baker’s shop hung in the air, making it hard to see.

  Archie ran up a side street and down another lane. By now the fire was travelling fast. The wind had caught the flames carrying the burning embers from thatched roof to thatched roof, setting the houses ablaze. There was no sign of the woman or the two men. For a moment, Archie thought he’d lost them, but then he caught a glimpse of them through the smoke. Grey was able to walk supported by the other two.

  Archie ran after them. The smoke was so dense now that he could barely see them in front of him. The woman was hurrying away from the fire, calling out a warning to the people still inside their houses. The two men had
stopped and were talking earnestly.

  ‘It’s the only way,’ said Grey’s rescuer. ‘You must write down what has happened or you will forget it all.’

  ‘I wish I could forget tonight!’ cried Grey. ‘It is the worst day of my life!’

  He sank to his knees, coughing and wheezing as he tried to catch his breath.

  ‘Listen to me,’ urged the other man. ‘In a few days you won’t remember any of this. The Grimoire has cursed you to lose your memory. That’s why you must write down what you saw while it’s still fresh in your mind.’

  ‘The curse!’ cried Grey, staring at him in horror. ‘So that’s what it is.’

  ‘Yes,’ said the other man, ‘and there’s another part to it.’ He hesitated, as if afraid to go on. ‘At the first new moon you will transform into the first beast you see.’

  Grey looked up at him, confusion on his face.

  Then his expression changed to a look of horrified recognition. ‘The raven!’ he exclaimed. ‘The raven from my vision!’

  Archie stopped in his tracks. So there was a raven in the vision that Grey had seen in The Book of Prophecy. Could it be the same raven that had delivered Grey’s ring to him? Archie was desperate to find out more.

  ‘You remember it now, but you won’t remember it later,’ said the man in the blue cloak. ‘You must write it down for safekeeping.’

  For the first time Archie could see Grey’s rescuer’s face clearly.

  And with a shock he recognised his own father – Alex Greene.

  So that was how Fabian Grey had escaped from the blaze that night. Alex Greene had saved his life!

  At first Archie was so surprised he just stared. Then he cried out – perhaps his father would be able to hear him? But his voice was lost in the roaring sound of the fire. He stumbled on, desperate to reach his father, but it was useless. He had lost them in the smoke.