Fyre

by Angie Sage

  Like the forest beneath them, the Dragon Boat’s crew fell silent. The steady swoosh-whoosh of the wingbeats was the only sound as the dragon flew onward until all that could be seen below was a featureless sea of snowy treetops stretching out to the wide horizon. On and on they flew, gazing down at the trees, until they lost their sense of direction and even Septimus began to wonder if the Dragon Boat was flying around in circles.

  All traces of pink were gone from the sky when the crew sensed a change in the Dragon Boat’s flight. The wings began to slow to a swoosh-oooosh-whoosh, the dragon’s neck dipped and Jenna saw her emerald eyes scanning ahead.

  A sudden flash of sunlight from a gap in the clouds lit up a fragile silver arc strung high above the trees, making it sparkle like a giant, dew-drizzled spiderweb—and the bridge to the House of Foryx was revealed. Even Septimus, who had terrifying memories of crossing the bridge, was taken aback by how beautiful it looked. A few seconds later the sun slipped behind the clouds and the bridge was gone, blending once more into the white skies. The Dragon Boat leaned sharply into a turn and headed downward.

  And then, suddenly, the House of Foryx was there. Stark-black against the snow, a great fortress of granite, it sat in solitary splendor on a pillar of rock encircled by a deep and dark abyss. Its four huge octagonal towers, which surrounded an even larger octagonal core, reared up into the white sky, and above them wheeled a murder of crows, cawing at the morning.

  “Oh, dear,” whispered Aunt Zelda.

  Nicko slid along the deck and came to sit next to Aunt Zelda. She put her arm around him and wrapped him in her quilt. Nicko, who did not like to be “fussed,” as he called it, did not resist. Together he, Aunt Zelda and Jenna watched the House of Foryx draw closer.

  Nicko shivered. What really spooked him was not the building—it was the knowledge that inside the fortress below, where Time did not exist, there were so many people, their lives suspended while they waited to go back out once more to their own Times. Just as he and Snorri had once waited . . . and waited . . . and waited. Nicko looked down at the blind windows, covered with a shifting film like oil on water, and wondered which one it was that he and Snorri had spent what had felt like an eternity gazing out from. Suddenly he got up and made his way up the sloping deck to Septimus.

  “Sep. Don’t go back in there. Please.”

  “Hey, Nik, it’s okay,” said Septimus. He pulled the Questing Stone out of his pocket and turned it upside down to show Hotep-Ra’s hieroglyph underneath it, gold against the black. “See, this is my pass. It means I can come and go as I please. I can always return to my Time. It really is okay this time.”

  Nicko shook his head. “I don’t believe it.”

  “Nik, even if you don’t believe the pass will work, it is still okay. You and Jenna are here. Aunt Zelda is here. In our Time. If I don’t come out, you can ring the bell and ask for me, and then I can walk back out into our Time. You know that.”

  Nicko shook his head again. “You can’t trust them.”

  Septimus knew there was nothing he could say to win Nicko over. He renewed his grip on the tiller and began to guide the Dragon Boat low across the House of Foryx, toward a glass dome in the very center, invisible from below. Unlike the dead windows in the rest of the House of Foryx, a soft yellow light spread up from the dome and glowed in the gray morning air.

  Hotep-Ra had become a creature of habit. In a place where Time did not exist, the ancient Wizard had created his own rhythm of time. Every day, to the second, he did the same thing, and often he even thought the same thoughts. The last time his routine had changed had been when a young Apprentice named Septimus Heap had come to see him at the end of his Queste. How long ago that had been, Hotep-Ra had no idea. It could have been the previous day. It could have been hundreds of years in the past. In the House of Foryx it made no difference.

  That morning, Hotep-Ra’s routine and thoughts traveled their usual tracks: he lit a candle, lay back in his chair beneath the dome, gazed up into the white-snow sky and thought about his Dragon Boat. So when Hotep-Ra actually saw the brilliant gold and green of the Dragon Boat fly overhead, he was not at first surprised. It was only after her second pass that Hotep-Ra realized that his Dragon Boat actually was outside. In what Time she was, he did not know. But she had come for him, as he had known one day she would.

  Hotep-Ra got out of his chair and said to his Apprentice, Talmar Ray Bell, “I am just going outside. I may be some time.”

  Talmar looked horrified. “Don’t say that!”

  Hotep-Ra smiled at his Apprentice. “Why ever not?”

  “It’s bad luck,” she said. “Someone said it once and never came back.”

  “I’ll be back,” said Hotep-Ra.

  “Someone said that once too.”

  The Dragon Boat was coming in to land. She knew where she was heading, but her crew did not. Septimus felt the tiller move beneath his hand as the Dragon Boat tipped forward in a steep dive. With her wings outstretched and her tail down like a brake, she dropped down toward the wide, flat marble terrace at the front of the House of Foryx.

  “Sep, she can’t land there!” Jenna yelled.

  All, except for Aunt Zelda, closed their eyes. And so it was only Aunt Zelda who saw a ripple pass across the surface of the marble like wind over silk, and the marble become a lake of milk-white water. The Dragon Boat glided in with practiced ease—for she had landed there many times before. Then she folded her wings and settled down in front of the House of Foryx like a bird on its nest.

  Septimus peered over the side—the marble looked solid once more. “It’s Thixotropic,” he said.

  “It’s what?” said Nicko.

  “Solid. But goes liquid under pressure.”

  “Don’t we all,” said Nicko gloomily.

  “Actually, Nik, we don’t,” said Jenna. “And you in particular do not. Don’t let this place get to you. You forget that without it you wouldn’t be here with us at all.”

  Nicko nodded. “Yeah. I know. I just want to keep it that way.”

  “We all want to keep it that way, Nik. And we will.”

  “Time to go,” said Septimus. He dropped the gold-and-azure boarding ladder over the side of the boat, and climbed down. Nicko followed. A minute later they were standing on the steps of the House of Foryx, where five hundred years in the past Nicko had once waited with Snorri, and not quite so long ago Septimus had stood with the Questing Stone in his hand. Then it had glowed a brilliant red; now it was a deep blue-black with Hotep-Ra’s shining gold hieroglyph giving him safe passage back to his own Time. He hoped.

  The door to the House of Foryx towered above them. It was a forbidding sight—huge planks of ebony held together with iron bars and massive rivets. The grotesque monsters and bizarre creatures carved into the doorframe stared down at Septimus and Nicko as if daring them to ring the bellpull, which emerged from the mouth of an iron dragon that thrust its head through the granite wall.

  Septimus did dare. The sound of the bell clanged distantly and some minutes later, as he expected, a small batlike man wrenched the door open.

  “Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees?” said the man.

  Septimus knew how argumentative the little man could be and he got in fast. “I have come to see Hotep-Ra. I have a pass.” He showed the man the Questing Stone, hieroglyph side up. The doorman peered at the stone and Septimus braced himself, expecting trouble—which he got.

  “I have never seen one of these before,” said the doorman suspiciously.

  “You won’t have,” said Septimus. “This is the only one.”

  “Weally? You will have to show it to the Guardian.” The little man looked at Nicko. “I suppose you want to come in too,” he said, sounding annoyed.

  “No way,” Nicko replied.

  The shortsighted doorman peered at Nicko more closely and a flicker of recognition passed over his face. Suddenly his little wiry arm shot out and grasped Nicko around the wrist. “I wecognise you! You have Time to s
erve!” And with a strength unnatural for his size, he pulled Nicko across the threshold.

  In the Dragon Boat, Jenna watched, horrified, as Nicko disappeared into the shadows of the House of Foryx. She saw Septimus dive in after him and the door slam. They were gone.

  Jenna knew she had to get Nicko out. “Aunt Zelda,” she said, “I’m going after them.”

  “Be careful, dear,” said Aunt Zelda. “It doesn’t look very nice in there.”

  “It’s not. Now, Aunt Zelda, this is really, really important. If I get pulled in too you have to come and ring the bell. But you must not come inside. Just keep ringing the bell until we come out. Okay?”

  Aunt Zelda looked confused. “All right, dear. But why don’t I go in?”

  “It’s dangerous, Aunt Zelda. You mustn’t.”

  “It doesn’t seem right, dear, me staying outside when it’s dangerous in there. You might need help.”

  “No, we won’t need help—well, not like that. The only help we need is for you to stay outside. Here. In this Time.”

  Aunt Zelda frowned, trying to work it out. “All right, dear, I’ll wait. This time.”

  With a horrible feeling she had made Aunt Zelda even more confused, Jenna climbed out of the Dragon Boat, walked across the expanse of white and went up the steps to the door. Then she took a deep breath and tugged on the bellpull.

  The door opened.

  To her great relief, there stood Nicko with Septimus, holding out his Questing Stone with a big smile. “See, it worked, Jen. It will always bring me out in my own Time. And it set Nicko free too.”

  Nicko grimaced. The Questing Stone had indeed set him free, but not before he had been imprisoned—for how long he did not know. He quickly stepped into his own Time and enveloped Jenna in a hug.

  Jenna was so shocked by Nicko’s haunted look that she did not notice the tall old man who stood in the shadows behind him. But when he stepped out of the House of Foryx—for the first time in many thousands of years—and Jenna saw the ancient ExtraOrdinary Wizard robes embroidered with Magykal symbols and the formal ExtraOrdinary Wizard headband around his long white hair, she knew who he was.

  “Hotep-Ra!”

  “Princess,” he replied in a surprisingly deep voice—and a very odd accent—and bowed his head. A few snowflakes drifted down and settled on his white hair; Hotep-Ra looked up, as if surprised by the touch of the snow. It was then that he saw the Dragon Boat waiting for him. He caught his breath and then set off across the white marble terrace, his long purple staff clicking as he went.

  Jenna, Nicko and Septimus followed at a respectful distance.

  “Been waiting long?” Nicko asked Jenna nonchalantly, as though she had been hanging around for the Port barge.

  “Five minutes maybe,” said Jenna.

  Septimus and Nicko exchanged glances. “See,” said Septimus. “I told you so.”

  They stood quietly by, not wishing to disturb the reunion. They saw the dragon turn to look at her old Master and arch her neck down to greet him. They saw Hotep-Ra put his hand on the dragon’s velvety nose and a silver streak ran down from the dragon’s eye. It dropped onto the ground and rolled toward Jenna. She picked it up and held it in the palm of her hand: a dragon tear of pure silver.

  There was something that Septimus knew he must do. He took off his Dragon Ring and offered it to Hotep-Ra. “This belongs to you,” he said.

  Solemnly, Hotep-Ra took the Dragon Ring. “Thank you,” he said. “But it shall be yours again before very long, I promise you.” Septimus felt strange as he watched Hotep-Ra place the ring on his right index finger and he saw the emerald eye of the ring dragon glow and the ring adjust itself to fit its old Master’s finger.

  Hotep-Ra climbed aboard and fussed about—as someone who has not been aboard their boat for a few thousand years will do. He invited Aunt Zelda to sit beside him at the tiller and called to Jenna.

  “Princess, I believe we have a Committal to look at.”

  Jenna climbed aboard. She took out her tattered copy of The Queen Rules and passed it to Hotep-Ra, open at the page where she had written the Committal.

  Hotep-Ra looked shocked. “This book was beautiful once,” he said.

  Jenna felt responsible. “I’m really sorry.”

  Hotep-Ra got out his Enlarging Glass and peered at Jenna’s handwriting. “The Keystone is missing,” he said. “This can never work.”

  Jenna got her best pen out of her pocket. “If you tell me the Keystone, I’ll write it down,” she said.

  “Princess,” said Hotep-Ra, “let me explain. I was not one of those lazy Wizards who always used the same Keystone. I had a different one for every one of my twenty-one major Incantations.” He sighed. “Unfortunately it is a long, long time ago and I cannot remember which one I used.”

  Jenna was aghast. “Don’t you have it written down?”

  “Apprentice, please explain,” Hotep-Ra said to Septimus. “We must go.”

  While Hotep-Ra took the Dragon Boat up into the sky, Septimus told Jenna, “You see, Jen, Hotep-Ra inscribed his Incantations into the pyramid on top of the Wizard Tower. He wanted them to last forever and it was a way of making them incorruptible.”

  “But Sep, you told me that those hieroglyphs are—what was it? Gobbledygook, you said.”

  “They are,” said Septimus. “That is the whole point—they are a blind. To call up the real ones we need to use the Keye.”

  “What key?”

  “Well . . .”

  Jenna sighed. “I suppose we don’t have that, either.”

  “Um, not right now, no. The Keye is actually the very tip of the pyramid. When your ancestor was busy shooting those Ring Wizards, they got so mad that they sliced off the top of the pyramid and Shrank it.”

  “Why would they do that?” asked Jenna, thinking that sometimes she did not understand Wizard behavior at all.

  “Well, actually it was meant to happen to Hotep-Ra but he outwitted them.”

  “So where is this top bit key-thingy?”

  “Hotep-Ra gave it to the Queen.”

  “So, what did she do with it?”

  Septimus looked to Hotep-Ra for help.

  “She said she would put it somewhere safe,” said Hotep-Ra.

  “Oh, no.” Jenna groaned. Whenever Sarah lost anything it was always when she had put it “somewhere safe.”

  “Princess,” said Hotep-Ra. “You must go back to the Palace and find the Keye.”

  “But I’ve never even seen it.”

  “Well, it must be somewhere,” said Hotep-Ra.

  Jenna had heard that from Sarah too. It did not inspire confidence.

  “For speed, I suggest you take the direct route back. Hold tight.” With that, Hotep-Ra wheeled his Dragon Boat around and dived into the abyss.

  43

  ROCKY TIMES

  Marcellus opened his eyes and saw nothing. He tried to sit up and hit his head. Marcellus groaned. Where was he?

  And then he remembered. He remembered the Ring Wizards down in his precious Fyre Chamber, trying to destroy his delicate, beautiful Fyre. He remembered his long, painful climb up through the escape burrow, and he remembered that he had to get to Marcia and warn her what was happening. But most of all he remembered how angry he was—and why. Spurred on by his fury, Marcellus attacked the rockfall that was blocking his way. His hands found a gap and methodically he began removing each stone and sending it rolling down the burrow behind him.

  Down in the Chamber of Fyre, with a wall of flames roaring above and the dizzying drop below, Duglius Drummin was drumming the narrow rim of the Cauldron and keeping an anxious watch. The brilliant orange flames from the coal were shooting high into the air, dancing and whirling as they were sucked up into the Vents, feeding on the gases that were drawn up with them. Duglius wore a grim smile. He did not like to see the flames, but he knew that they were a necessary evil. As long as the coal burned on top, the delicate blue flame of the Alchemie Fyre below was protected.
And in the vast hoppers inside the cavern roof, Duglius knew there was still a large store of coal left.

  Duglius continued along the rim—his suckered feet protected by their heat pads—drumming the metal as he went. The Cauldron was still intact but there was a duller sound to the ring of the hammer, which worried him. Something was changing. As Duglius listened yet again to the cling of his hammer, out of the heat haze he saw the fearful shapes of the Ring Wizards coming toward him along the Inspection Walkway. Steadfastly, the old Drummin carried on drumming. As he drew near and saw the Ring Wizards’ green armor shimmering in the glare, their dark cloaks flying out in the updraft of the flames and their wild eyes shining with excitement, Duglius could not help but hold his breath in fear; but he kept going and passed by with no harm. The Ring Wizards, like all Wizards, treated Drummins as vermin and paid them no attention—although this had not stopped them from destroying two Drummin sets heading for the Control Room for the fun of it. This time, to Duglius’s relief, they paid him no attention and he continued safely on his way.

  Duglius found his second-in-command, Perius Drummin, waiting for him on the Viewing Station.

  There’s rockfall a-coming down the escape burrow, Duglius Drummin, Perius signed. Wish you I do go to see what is to see?

  I shall go to see, Perius Drummin. You will please take over from me.

  I will take over from you, Duglius Drummin.

  Thank you, Perius Drummin. Please open the Cauldron Heat Vents to the Ice Tunnels. It is time.

  It is time, Duglius Drummin, Perius agreed.

  Duglius’s climb up the escape burrow was considerably faster than Marcellus’s, but it was made more difficult by the rocks that came hurtling down. It was a slightly bruised Duglius who reached Marcellus just as he was clearing the very last rock away. A soft touch on his foot told Marcellus that Duglius was there.

  While Duglius was climbing up, the Dragon Boat was flying down—into the abyss. Around and around she went, spiralling down into the depths of the canyon that encircled the House of Foryx. Hotep-Ra stood at the tiller, concentrating hard on keeping the wing tips of his Dragon Boat safely away from the sheer rock of the canyon walls. It would have been a testing task for any pilot, but for one who had not flown for many thousands of years, it was a huge challenge.