Septimus Heap Complete Collection

  “Bertie?” she called in a half whisper. “Bertie?”

  There was no reply.

  Rose decided to use an old Wizard trick. She stood still and turned her head slowly from side to side, letting her eyes “see what they will see.” And they did. Suddenly Rose saw the gap in the Safety Curtain, and pouring through the gap were Things. Monstrous, shadowy Things loping toward her like all her nightmares rolled into one.

  Rose ran. She ran so fast that she was halfway up Wizard Way before the true meaning of what she had seen struck her. And then she kept on running, as fast as she could, back to the Wizard Tower to tell Marcia.

  But Marcia was not there.

  Marcia was still at the Manuscriptorium.

  Chapter 28

  Hermetically Sealed

  As Rose raced past the dark windows of the Manuscriptorium, Marcia was inside struggling to place a Locking Band around Merrin’s wrists.

  Merrin was fighting her all the way, and Marcia was shocked at how powerful he had become. She was using the strongest Restrain she could without putting him at risk, and still he was not totally subdued. Merrin’s dark eyes blazed with anger and his feet twitched as he tried to kick out. The gold on his Two-Faced Ring flashed as he pulled and twisted his wrists, stretching the Locking Band almost to the breaking point. After a torrent of verbal abuse, Marcia had also placed a Silent on Merrin but that did not stop his mouth moving. Marcia was—to her regret right then—a good lip-reader.

  A loud knocking came suddenly on the outside door. Marcia looked annoyed. “Beetle, see who it is and tell them to go away.”

  Beetle went into the front office. He opened the door to find Marcellus Pye on the other side. “Ah, Scribe Beetle.” Marcellus sounded relieved. “I am glad it is you.”

  Beetle had long ago given up trying to explain to Marcellus Pye that he was no longer—and indeed never had been—a scribe at the Manuscriptorium.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Pye,” he said closing the door, “we’re a bit busy at the moment.”

  Marcellus stuck his foot in the door. “I have just been to the Palace for the party, only to find there is a Safety Curtain up.” He sounded worried. “My Apprentice, Septimus Heap, was going there and I am concerned for his safety. I thought I’d call in on my way to the Wizard Tower. Is he here, by any chance?”

  “No, he’s not. I haven’t seen him and no, before you ask, I don’t know where he is.” Beetle sounded annoyed. He was tired of everyone asking him about Septimus. “Excuse me, Mr. Pye, but do you mind leaving now? We have things to do. Would you move your foot please?”

  But Marcellus did not move—his attention was suddenly taken by something down at the Palace end of Wizard Way. Beetle took the opportunity to close the door. He had to lean against it hard to shut it, and as he turned the key he saw that Marcellus was executing an odd kind of dance.

  Beetle decided to ignore him.

  Marcellus began banging on the door.

  Marcia came into the front office, grasping Merrin by his Locking Band. Jillie Djinn trailed behind like a ghost. “Beetle, what’s going on?” Marcia demanded.

  “It’s Marcellus,” said Beetle. “He won’t go. He’s looking for Septimus.”

  A look of concern flashed across Marcia’s face. “But I thought Septimus was with him.”

  “Apparently not,” said Beetle, a trifle sulkily.

  “What’s that in the door?” asked Marcia. A long, thin piece of red leather was poking between the door and the doorjamb.

  “Oh,” said Beetle. “It’s his shoe.” He unlocked the door and it flew open to reveal Marcellus Pye, equally irritable, on the other side, nursing the squashed tip of his precious red shoe—a birthday present from Septimus a few years back.

  “It’s ruined,” said Marcellus. “Look.” He pointed to the torn ribbons that were tied just below his knee.

  “You shouldn’t wear such ridiculous shoes,” snapped Marcia.

  “Well, you’d know all about that, Marcia,” Marcellus retorted.

  While Marcia and Marcellus were bickering, something had caught Beetle’s attention—the two torches burning on either side of the Palace Gate had just gone out. Beetle had a bad feeling—why had both torches gone out at the same time? He soon had his answer.

  “No . . . no, it can’t be!” he gasped.

  “What?” asked Marcia, stopping midway through a shoe-based insult.

  Beetle pointed down Wizard Way. Like water through a sluice gate, the thick fog of the Darke Domaine was pouring out through the Palace Gate and swirling into the lower reaches of Wizard Way. “The Safety Curtain! It’s been breached!”

  “What?”

  Merrin smirked.

  “Marcellus,” said Marcia. “Make yourself useful for once. Hold on to this . . . this creature for me. I must see what’s happening.” She handed Merrin over to Marcellus and hurried out into Wizard Way. She was just in time to see the first torch at the Palace end of the Way extinguished by what looked like a bank of black fog.

  Marcia ran back into the front office, slammed the door and leaned against it. She looked as white as a sheet of best Manuscriptorium paper. “You’re right. It’s breached.” And then, to Beetle’s shock, Marcia swore.

  Merrin broke through his Silent with a snigger.

  Marcia glared at him. “You won’t be laughing soon, Merrin Meredith,” she snapped. “Not when we are getting that Paired Code out of you.”

  Merrin went pale. He hadn’t thought about that.

  “Get him out of here, Marcellus,” said Marcia. “Beetle, you take Miss Djinn. We must get back to the Wizard Tower now.”

  Beetle was reluctant. “But we can’t abandon the Man-uscriptorium,” he said.

  “The Manuscriptorium must take its chance.”

  Beetle was horrified. “No. No. If the Darke Domaine gets in everything will be destroyed. All the arcane Magyk in the Hermetic Chamber and in the old Chamber of Alchemie . . . it will all be gone. Nothing will remain. Nothing.”

  “Beetle, I’m sorry, there is nothing we can do.”

  “Yes, there is,” Beetle retorted. “The Hermetic Chamber can be Hermetically Sealed. That’s why it’s built like it is. And the ExtraOrdinary Wizard can Seal it. That is true, isn’t it?”

  Marcia answered with great reluctance. “Yes, it is true. But to Seal Miss Djinn in there would be nothing short of murder. She wouldn’t know what was happening to her. She’d have no chance.”

  “But I might,” said Beetle quietly.

  “You?”

  “Yes. Seal me in the Hermetic Chamber. I’d guard it.”

  Marcia was grave. “Beetle, there’s only enough air for about twenty-four hours—after that you’ll have to do a Suspension. You do know that not all those Sealed in the Chamber have survived, don’t you?”

  “I’ll take a chance. Fifty-fifty isn’t bad.”

  Marcia shook her head. So often Beetle knew far more than she expected. “Three lived, three died,” she muttered. “Not great odds.”

  “Could be worse. Please, Marcia. I don’t want to lose the Manuscriptorium. I’d do anything to stop that. Anything.”

  Marcia knew that Beetle was not going to change his mind. “Very well, Beetle. I’ll do as you ask. I’ll Activate the Hermetic Seal.”

  Leaving Marcellus Pye with a firm grasp on Merrin and Jillie Djinn staring into space, Marcia and Beetle made their way to the entrance of the seven-cornered passage. They stopped outside.

  “You’ll find the secret siege drawer in the table by tapping the tiny black circle in the center seven times. The drawer contains emergency supplies and the Suspension Charm with instructions,” Marcia told him.

  “I know,” said Beetle.

  “You’re a brave young man, Beetle. Good luck.”

  “Thanks.”

  Marcia wondered if she’d ever see Beetle again. “Right then. You’d better go in. As soon as you get into the Chamber, sit in the Chief Hermetic Scribe’s seat. It’s in the very cente
r and you’ll be all right there. The Sealing Magyk will be very intense and that isn’t always pleasant.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  Marcia gave Beetle a strained smile. “I’ll count to twenty-one and then I’ll Activate the Seal. Understood?”

  “Yep. I’ll count too. One . . . two . . .”

  Beetle was gone. He ran through the narrow stone archway into the darkness of the seven-cornered passageway, and before he had finished counting to ten he was in the brightness of the circular Hermetic Chamber. Feeling as though he shouldn’t, Beetle sat down in the Chief Hermetic Scribe’s seat at the table and, still counting, he watched the archway that he had just run through. The next few seconds were the longest of his life.

  The Activating of the Seal began. A hissing sound filled the Chamber, immediately followed by a rush of cold air as the Seal was driven along the seven-cornered passage. Beetle watched in awe as a shining wall of purple Magyk came around the last corner and stopped at the arch that led into the Chamber. The brilliant Magykal light pulsed over the archway and the circular white walls of the Hermetic Chamber intensified it, sending currents of Magyk swirling while Beetle sat in the calm at the very center of it, hardly daring to breathe. After a few minutes he could see that the purple light was beginning to fade, wisps of Magyk were drifting off. They hung in the air, and the bittersweet taste of Magyk caught in Beetle’s throat and made him cough.

  As the last vestiges of Magyk disappeared, Beetle understood what it meant to be Sealed in the Chamber. Where the arch had been there was now solid wall, indistinguishable from any other part of the walls that surrounded him. He was entombed. Above his head rose the dome of white stone that formed the ceiling of the Hermetic Chamber and below his feet was the Sealed hatch to the Ice Tunnels.

  Remembering what Marcia had told him, Beetle tapped the tiny black circle in the center of the table seven times. A small drawer below the table sprung open. He reached in for the Suspension Charm—and drew out a handful of licorice bootlaces.

  Chapter 29

  Retreat

  The Darke Fog was rolling on. It had reached the door to Larry’s Dead Languages. It seeped in around the edges, finding out the cracks, pouring through the knotholes, needling through the woodworm burrows. It gathered around the piles of translated papers, swirled into the much-repaired vase and snuffed out the candles in the window display that had been lovingly created by Beetle. It rolled on through the shop, up into the gallery, along the landing and up the rickety winding stairs. In his little room deep in the back of his house, Larry awoke. He sat up in bed and pulled the bedclothes around his chin. He stared into the darkness, listening hard. Something was wrong. Larry swung his sticklike legs out of bed and, as his bare feet flinched at the cold touch of the floorboards, he saw black smoke pouring underneath the door. Aghast, he leaped up—the house was on fire!

  The smoke advanced toward him; it began to curl around his frozen toes and slowly, as if in a dream, Larry sat down again. A great feeling of contentment overwhelmed him. He was back in his old school, getting the Latin prize for the seventh time, and he had just seen his father in the audience, in the front row, smiling at him. Smiling at him. Larry. Clever Larry . . .

  As the Darke Fog layered around him, Larry sank back onto the bed. His breathing slowed and, like a tortoise in the depths of winter, he slipped into a dark and dreamless state somewhere between life and death.

  Marcia ushered Jillie Djinn and Marcellus, who had custody of Merrin, out into Wizard Way. She quickly locked the Manuscriptorium door behind her. Marcia could hardly bear to think about what she had left behind, but what was facing her was even worse. Advancing up Wizard Way like a pulsating black toad was a Darke shifting blackness.

  Marcia was horrified to see that the rolling Fog was accompanied by a line of Things—the outriders of the Darke Domaine. Like the sweep of a terrifying search party, they spread out across Wizard Way, with the Fog tumbling behind. She stared in shock, unable to tear herself away from the disaster unfolding before her.

  Marcellus tried to draw Marcia away. “Marcia, you must get to the Wizard Tower at once,” he said.

  Merrin’s eyes flashed angrily at Marcellus. With the Darke Domaine advancing ever nearer he felt he was growing stronger. The Two-Faced Ring was growing hot on his thumb and the vicious green faces were beginning to glow. The top face winked up at Merrin, and suddenly he knew he could beat Marcia. He could beat them all. He was in charge now. He was the best.

  First Merrin broke the Silent with the worst insult in the Castle, then he broke the Restrain. With a violent twist, he tore himself from Marcellus’s grasp and delivered a vicious kick to the Alchemist’s shins. As Marcellus hopped up and down, gasping in pain, Merrin raised his arms in the air and, in a taunting gesture, he pulled his wrists apart, snapping the Locking Band as if it were no more than tissue paper. Relishing his moment of triumph, Merrin darted forward and waved his left thumb in Marcia’s face, laughing as she instinctively drew back. The ring’s evil-looking faces glowered at her, their jade complexions gleaming.

  Marcia knew that there was only one possible reason for Merrin’s sudden surge of power—the oncoming Darke Domaine had indeed been Engendered by him. Up to that moment she had found it hard to believe that Merrin was capable of such a thing but now, as he pranced away, defiantly punching the air with his fist, with his Two-Faced Ring glittering, Marcia realized just how much control Merrin now had. It was a terrifying thought.

  “You idiot!” she yelled at him. “You have no idea what you are messing with, do you?”

  “Neither do you, Wizard-face.” Merrin laughed. “Run away to your twinkly little Tower and take old haddock-brain with you. I don’t need her anymore. See ya! Ha, ha, ha!” Merrin could hardly contain himself. He had never had such an attentive—such an astonished—audience. It was wonderful. It was what he had always wanted.

  “That’s what I think of your stupid Magyk!” he yelled at Marcia, flicking his fingers at her. Gesticulating and laughing, Merrin danced backward, his pale face lit by the still-burning torches and the ghostly candle displays shining onto the empty streets. “Come and get me if you dare!” he yelled.

  Marcia did dare. It was undignified but she didn’t care. Inside Merrin’s nasty little stomach the precious half of the Paired Codes was churning, and she was not having her last chance to defeat him escape her. She tore down Wizard Way in pursuit. Merrin laughed and ran, his scribe’s cloak streaming behind him, his outstretched arms flapping like a demented bird flying toward his flock.

  Marcellus raced after Marcia. It was a long time since he had run anywhere and his shoes were not ideal for the job—particularly after their encounter with the Manuscriptorium door. But Marcia’s pointy purple pythons were even less suited to running and he soon caught up with her.

  “Marcia . . .” he puffed. “Stop.”

  Marcia shook Marcellus’s hand off her arm. “Let go,” she hissed.

  Marcellus stood firm. “No. Marcia, don’t you see? The closer you get to that”—he waved his free hand at the advancing Darke Domaine and its outriders—“the more power it gives him and the more it takes from you. Come away before something awful happens.”

  “Something awful has happened,” snapped Marcia, setting off in pursuit once more.

  Marcellus kept up with difficulty. “It could be worse . . . you still have the Wizard Tower . . . don’t risk it all on a nasty little scribe.”

  Marcia stopped. “You don’t understand—he’s got the Paired Code!”

  Marcellus looked shocked, but he quickly recovered himself. “You must leave the Code to its fate. You must go back to the Wizard Tower.” His voice shook with urgency. “You must not lose that too.”

  “I shall lose neither.” Marcia flared angrily. “Just watch me.”

  Marcellus and Marcia were now more than halfway down Wizard Way. Only a hundred yards or so in front of them, the wall of Darke Fog rolled slowly toward them. At the base of the F
og a line of Things stretched out, shifting and blending in with the Darke, loping slowly forward, pulling the Darke Domaine with them.

  Merrin was heading erratically for the Fog. Spinning around to check that Marcia and Marcellus were still watching him, flashing rude signs, screaming obscenities, he drew ever closer to his Darke Domaine.

  Marcia focused hard on Merrin, gauging the distance. Muttering the words for a Fast Freeze, she raised her arm and a streak of ice-blue light left her hand and arced into the air. It landed with a brilliant white flash in the middle of Merrin’s back. He staggered forward and gave a loud cry.

  “Good shot,” muttered Marcellus.

  Marcia grimaced. She had never before performed Magyk behind someone’s back. It was considered the lowest form of Magyk, but now was not the time for such refinements. She had held back from Freezing Merrin, assuming she would get him to the Wizard Tower and deal with things there. Freezing someone was dangerous and not to be undertaken lightly. But now, with the lives of everyone in the Castle at stake, Merrin’s safety was no longer a consideration.

  Slowly Merrin turned around. Outlined in a blue-white crackle of the Freeze trying to take, he shivered and shook as though caught in an icy blast—but he did not Freeze. He stared at Marcia for some seconds, as though his brain had slowed and he was trying to work out what had happened. Marcia returned the stare, waiting impatiently for the Magyk to take effect. In the frost of the spell, Merrin shone out against the Darke Fog, but slowly he began to shine a little less. Horrified, Marcia saw the icy brilliance fade and Merrin shake himself, throwing off the Freeze like a dog throwing off water.

  Marcia’s Magyk had failed. It was then that she really understood what she was up against.

  Marcellus stepped up beside her. “You must go now,” he said quietly.