by D D Everest
‘Yes, I remember,’ interrupted the stranger. ‘That’s why you were chosen.’
The man grasped the pen tightly and Horace noticed that his hands shook when he tried to write.
The signature was little more than a squiggle.
‘It’s been in our cellar since 1666,’ said Horace, unable to contain his curiosity. ‘Why has it taken you so long to collect it?’
The man laughed. ‘I couldn’t remember where I’d left it. But it’s all starting to come back to me now.’
He reached across the desk and took the package. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have something very important to do, something I’ve waited a long time for.’
Horace nodded and offered his hand. ‘Good luck,’ he said.
The man shook his hand. Then he turned and walked away. Horace listened as the footsteps receded down the stairs, then he loosened his tie and tried to breathe normally. It wasn’t every day that he came face to face with Fabian Grey.
27
The Dark Master
The five members of the Alchemists’ Club were standing in Grey’s laboratory.
‘We pledge to restore magic to its former glory,’ they all repeated, but their words sounded hollow.
‘What are we going to do?’ asked Arabella, desperation in her voice. ‘The Greaders will attack the museum any time now. They are just waiting for the signal. With the Dark Flame on their side, the Flame Keepers won’t be able to resist them.’
‘We have to destroy the Dark Flame,’ said Archie. ‘It’s the only way to prevent a dark age of magic.’
‘But even if we could, that would mean the end of magic,’ said Rupert.
‘And we pledged to restore magic to its former glory,’ said Arabella.
‘I know,’ said Archie, ‘but better no magic than that sort of magic!’
They heard footsteps on the stairs.
‘Shhhh,’ hissed Bramble, putting her finger to her lips. ‘Someone’s coming.’ They crossed to the door and peered along the corridor.
The passageway appeared to be empty, but just then a hooded figure suddenly appeared from nowhere.
‘Where did he come from?’ whispered Rupert.
‘An invisibility potion made from snuffling blood,’ whispered Archie.
Rupert bristled with anger. ‘He’ll wish he could disappear when I get my hands on him!’
The figure pulled back his cloak and they recognised Peter Quiggley.
‘The snake,’ hissed Bramble.
Quiggley glanced up and down the passage to check the coast was clear. They stepped back into the shadows in time to avoid being seen by him.
Quiggley started down the passageway but stopped at the first door. ‘Where’s he going now?’ whispered Thistle.
‘He’s using the Enchanted Entrance,’ said Archie. ‘He must be going to another magical building.’
Quiggley glanced over his shoulder again, then he fitted a key into the door and opened it. He stepped through, closing it behind him.
‘He’s left the key in the door,’ said Archie. ‘Come on!’
He raced along the passageway and grabbed the door handle.
‘Door of mystery, door of grace,
Take me to my chosen place.’
He recited, using the spell that Old Zeb had taught him. The door opened and the five children stepped through it.
They didn’t see Old Zeb standing in the shadows but he watched them go. Then he opened the blue door to the bookend beasts’ frozen lair.
‘Come on, my beauties,’ he called, ‘awaken now – there’s work to be done.’
*
On the other side of the enchanted entrance, the five members of the Alchemists’ Club found themselves in a long corridor.
‘We’re inside my parents’ house,’ whispered Arabella. ‘This leads to the great hall. That’s where the Greaders are gathering.’
Ahead of them they could see an open door. Archie took a step towards it.
‘Wait!’ whispered Arabella. ‘Put these on.’ She indicated some cloaks hanging on pegs. ‘My parents use them for their Greader meetings.’
They slipped them on and pulled up the hoods to cover their faces and hurried along the corridor. As they stepped through the doorway, a flash of lightning illuminated a large room with a tall leaded window from the floor to the ceiling. Archie recognised it from his dream. It was where The Book of Night had been opened and he had witnessed the first Dark Oath ceremony. The last time he’d seen it he’d been watching through the window with the eyes of a raven.
The lightning was followed by a whip crack of thunder. Rain lashed against the tall window. Another flash of lightning lit the room. Archie was aware of cloaked figures all around him.
He pulled his hood closer and ducked in among the crowd, hoping they hadn’t been seen. The others followed him.
‘There’s my parents,’ whispered Arabella, covering her mouth with her hand. Archie spotted Veronica Ripley and her husband, Mortimer, watching the proceedings from a small balcony like a minstrels’ gallery, smug smiles on their faces. They were gazing at the front of the room where a raised platform like a stage had been erected in front of the leaded window.
On a black plinth in the centre of the stage The Book of Night was open with a black flame burning in its pages.
Another flash of lightning lit the stage and Archie could see a group of shrouded figures standing around the flame. He counted five of them in all. One was very tall, two others were of medium height and the other two were shorter.
The tall figure raised its arms and spoke in a loud voice. ‘My dark brothers and sisters, welcome to Ripley Mansion, the ancestral home of the Ripleys and the headquarters of our movement for many years. We are so glad that you could join us. Tonight we are celebrating the start of a new age of magic!
‘We’re expecting someone special and we will be meeting them very soon. First, let us all pledge our loyalty to the Dark Flame. Repeat the Dark Oath with me.’
Archie gazed around him at the swelling ranks of dark followers. More and more were joining all the time so that the room was full of them now. Archie had a horrible feeling that some of them were familiar. He was sure he recognised the stooped figure of Aurelius Rusp standing in front of him.
The crowd began chanting.
‘Darkest of the two
We pledge ourselves to you
By the power of the Flame
We blacken magic’s name!’
As the chanting grew louder the black flame burning in The Book of Night rose higher and burned more fiercely. Every new follower made the Flame more powerful. Archie was shocked to see how much bigger it had become since he’d seen it in his dream.
The chanting ceased and the room fell silent except for the driving rain against the tall windowpanes.
There was another eye-stabbing flash of lightning and rumble of thunder. Archie stared at the window where he could see a strangely shaped dark cloud was forming in the sky. He wondered what it was, but his attention was diverted back to the stage as the tall figure at the front pulled back his hood. Archie saw the sallow features of Uther Morgred.
No wonder the Magical League had been so useless at stopping Greader activity!
Morgred turned to the other cloaked figures beside him. ‘Welcome, my dark brothers. You bring word from the Museum of Magical Miscellany?’
The two shorter figures stepped forward. The first pulled back his hood. Archie heard a sharp intake of breath beside him.
‘It’s Motley Brown,’ hissed Bramble. ‘He’s the traitor.’
Brown was speaking. ‘The Flame of Pharos is extinguished!’ he said. ‘We all serve the Dark Flame now.’
The second figure removed his hood. Peter Quiggley’s round face looked out at them. Archie felt the bile rise in his stomach. Quiggley was in this up to his neck.
‘The Word Smithy is cold,’ he boasted. ‘The Flame of Pharos is no more. I destroyed it with dragon’s blood and the quen
ching spell. Long Live the Dark Flame!’
There was a murmur among the crowd, and then other voices joined in with the chant. ‘Long Live the Dark Flame! Long Live the Dark Flame!’
People all around him were chanting now and Archie felt sick. And it was about to get worse.
The Dark Flame flared. A face appeared among the flames, its features ravaged by fire. Two cold grey eyes stared out. Archie would have recognised those eyes anywhere. Arthur Ripley stepped out of the fire.
Arabella gasped as she recognised her grandfather. ‘He’s the Dark Master,’ she whispered.
Uther Morgred held up his hands for silence. He turned to the figure beside the Flame. ‘We are your servants, master,’ he said, bowing his head.
Arthur Ripley’s cold eyes gazed around the room. ‘So good of you all to come,’ he said. ‘I knew that you’d come around to my way of thinking eventually.
‘I recognise some new faces among you.’ He looked at Rusp. ‘Aurelius, so you finally realised the foolishness of following Hawke.’
‘Some of you took longer than others, eh, Motley? If you had been a bit bolder, then we would have got here a lot quicker!’
Motley Brown stared at the ground. ‘I had to be cautious,’ he said. ‘It would have done our cause no good if I’d been discovered.’
‘You are a coward, Motley, and you always were. You kept your head down until you were sure of our success and only then did you act.’
‘But I extinguished the Flame of Pharos!’ cried Brown.
‘No, I extinguished the Flame!’ said Quiggley.
‘So you used the boy to do your dirty work,’ sneered Ripley.
‘I taught the boy the quenching spell,’ snarled Brown. ‘And made the ungrateful wretch practise using rat’s blood to snuff out candles until he could do it – and I got him dragon’s blood when the salamander blood proved too weak. Without me he could not have put out the Flame.’
But Ripley ignored his protests. ‘It is done and that is all that matters. The Flame of Pharos is extinguished. Only the Dark Flame remains. We stand at the threshold of a new era – a dark age of magic. We have waited a long time for this moment.
‘And now it is within our grasp,’ he said. ‘And we have someone special joining us.’ He turned towards the last two hooded figures. ‘Show yourselves.’
The first figure pulled back her hood. Katerina Krone’s dull eyes stared out.
Ripley’s thin lips twitched into a smile.
‘Welcome, Katerina. I trust my good friend Rumold treated you kindly at the asylum?’
Katerina bowed. ‘Yes, master. He sends his apologies. He would have been here in person but he has things to attend to at the asylum.’
‘Very well. He has served us well so I will permit his absence on this occasion. And now it is time to present our very special guest.’
He paused. ‘My dark brothers and sisters, we have long sought the greatest prize in magic. I speak of The Opus Magus of course, the Great Work. Most of my life has been spent searching for it. All those years and it was closer than I realised. Finally, we can welcome the one person who knows its secret – Fabian Grey.’
The last hooded figure was pushed forward. In his hand he clutched the package from Folly & Catchpole. He looked to be in a daze as Uther Morgred pulled back his hood. Archie froze in horror at the face that was revealed. It was Gideon Hawke.
28
The Opus Magus
Archie’s whole world collapsed. He stared in shock. How could Gideon Hawke be Fabian Grey?
And then suddenly it all made sense: Hawke’s extraordinary magical ability, his mismatched eyes and his mysterious past, even his illness – his supposed madness! It all fitted. Why hadn’t Archie seen it before? It had been staring him in the face all along.
Hawke had said that he felt like he was chasing his own tail – and he was. All this time he’d been desperately searching for Fabian Grey when in reality he was Fabian Grey!
Ripley snatched the package and tore it open. ‘Thank you, Gideon,’ he said, ‘or should I call you Fabian?’
In his hand he held a slim white book. ‘Finally, I have what I desire,’ he cried. ‘The Opus Magus is mine and with it all the power of magic!’
He turned his greedy gaze on the book. ‘For the first time in three hundred and fifty years new eyes will know its secrets, and when I commit it to the Black Flame then magic will enter a glorious new dark age.’
Ripley turned to The Book of Night. ‘By the power of the Dark Flame, I command you my dark servants.’
Archie felt someone tug at his sleeve. It was Bramble. ‘We’ve got to do something,’ she hissed. ‘We’ve got to stop him!’
The three Pale Writers rose from The Book of Night like a foul fog. Their faces flickered and their eyes burned with a hungry fire. Archie felt the same sudden terror grip him that he’d felt before. He recognised two of the three, but not the third. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
Morgred stepped forward. ‘Here is some azoth to write the spell with,’ he said, producing a small phial of the magic ink and placing it on the plinth beside The Book of Night. ‘I took it from the Royal Society. Let the new age of darkness commence,’ he cried and his cry was picked up by others and rang around the room.
Ripley opened the white book in his hand, and as he did the Pale Writers rose into the air. Their ghostly faces flickered with malice as they anticipated the ultimate act of darchemy. But in an instant their expressions turned to rage.
‘What is this?’ the first Pale Writer hissed.
‘It is a trick!’ spat the second.
‘Someone must pay for this deception!’ screeched the third.
Ripley was staring at the writing in the white book. He read out the words in disbelief. ‘This is to remind me who I am and of the vision that I saw …’ he read. He riffled through the book.
‘This is not The Opus Magus,’ he cried. ‘It is a changing spell. What good is that to me?’
He slammed the book shut. ‘These are the ramblings of a madman!’ he roared.
He turned his wrath on Hawke. ‘Where is The Opus Magus?’ he screamed.
Hawke shook his head. ‘What you hold in your hand is my memoir,’ he said. ‘It is to remind me who I really am. No more and no less.’
‘But you have a bibliographical memory,’ raged Ripley. ‘You remember every spell you ever saw. The Opus Magus must be in your head somewhere.’
‘Perhaps it was once,’ said Hawke. ‘But I lost it along with all my other memories. And if it means you cannot corrupt it, then I am glad.’
Ripley stopped ranting. A knowing look passed across his face. ‘Wait. If you don’t remember The Opus Magus spell then someone else has to – otherwise the magic would have been extinguished long ago. So if it’s not you, then who is it?’
His eyes turned on the crowd of dark followers. ‘It’s Archie Greene!’ he snarled. ‘He’s here somewhere. I can sense his presence.’
‘He is Fabian Grey’s heir. Somehow the memory of The Opus Magus must have passed to him. That’s why he has a forked fate – Archie Greene is part of the prophecy!’
He turned to the Pale Writers. ‘He’s here, I know it. Find him!’
The three phantoms hung into the air. Archie felt their dark minds searching for him among the crowd. He could feel their evil presence as they used a dark delving spell to draw him out.
The person next to him pulled back his cloak. It was Rupert. ‘I am Archie Greene,’ he cried.
The Pale Writers hissed and turned towards him.
‘That’s not Archie Greene. The other boy is trying to shield him! Kill him!’ screamed Ripley.
Archie threw back his own hood. ‘Sorry, Rupert, but I won’t let you do this,’ he cried. ‘I’m the real Archie Greene.’
‘No!’ cried Arabella. ‘You don’t have to do this, Archie!’
‘But I do,’ said Archie. ‘I’m a Grey and only a Grey can stop the Dark Flame. My
fate has always been intertwined with Fabian Grey’s. This is my destiny.’
The crowd parted. A hush had fallen on the room. Archie walked towards the stage where Ripley stood.
‘Finally, Archie Greene, I have you where I want you,’ laughed Ripley.
There was a roar of outrage and a stooped figure charged towards the stage. ‘You are a disgrace to the name of magic, Ripley!’ cried Aurelius Rusp. ‘You are nothing next to Fabian Grey!’
‘Ah, Aurelius,’ said Ripley. ‘I should have known you were Hawke’s man.’
‘My loyalty was always to the museum,’ snarled Rusp. ‘I’m prepared to die for it!’
He hurled a banishing spell at Ripley, but Ripley blocked it. Before Rusp could use a guarding spell to defend himself, the Pale Writers descended on him, surrounding him and muttering dark spells. For a moment Rusp resisted and then Ripley pointed his hand at him.
‘Power of darkness
Power of night
Take his soul
Put out his light.’
Rusp fell dead on the ground.
There was a shocked silence.
Archie had never liked Rusp but he’d died trying to protect the museum from the Dark Flame. Hawke had been right to trust him. Archie felt a surge of anger.
But before he could react there was a loud thumping sound – hundreds of ravens crashed against the leaded glass window. A huge flock of them had gathered outside the house. That was the black cloud Archie had seen in the sky earlier. Now he could hear their wings beating and the tapping of their beaks on the window. There was total chaos in the hall now as the birds blocked out the light from the moon, plunging the room into semi-darkness.
In the confusion Archie felt someone grab his arm. It was Hawke – or Fabian Grey as he now knew him to be.
‘We don’t have much time. Listen carefully. To extinguish the Dark Flame requires a sacrifice,’ he gasped, ‘an act of total selflessness. I have read the memoir now and I remember. The memoir contains the changing spell that will allow me to transform into a raven by choice, but once I use it I will need your help to save magic.’