Syren (38 page)

Jenna looked shocked. “But I’m
not
—” she began.

“It’s all right, Jen, I’ll explain later,” said Septimus, running to Syrah’s side. He took her hand and led her gently away from the group. “Syrah,” he asked, “are you all right?”

Syrah was far too agitated to answer his question. “Septimus, please, you must keep the Princess safe. Maybe it is good she is away from the Castle.” She pointed across the dunes to the warrior jinn. “I do not have long. The Syren has sent me to greet Tertius Fume—evil old goat, I shall
not
do it—but she may Call me at any moment. Septimus, it is happening. Last night the ship with the army on board sailed past the dark CattRokk Light as they had planned. It came within the Syren’s range and she Called it.”

“Why…exactly?”

“Because
they have come to invade the Castle
.”

“What?”
chorused everyone—except Septimus, to whom it all made hideously perfect sense.

“That is why I wanted you to Seal the Ice Tunnel. To stop them.”

“Yes, I see that now.”

“But I don’t get it,” said Wolf Boy. “What are they doing
here
if they want to invade the Castle? Why didn’t they just stay in the ship and sail there?”

“Fume is going to march the warrior jinn along the Ice Tunnel, right into the middle of the Castle,” said Syrah. “They will be there before anyone knows what’s happening. Oh, I am Called,” Syrah gasped suddenly. “Septimus. Please. Stop them.” And then she was gone. Pulled through the sand dunes like a doll dragged by a careless child, she ran impossibly fast, with no regard to the sharp grass tearing at her legs or the stones cutting her feet. The violence of Syrah’s sudden flight shocked everyone into silence.

“Are they
really
going to the Castle?” whispered Jenna.

“Yes,” said Septimus. “I think they really are.”

T
hey sat among the rocks
just above Spit Fyre, watching one warrior after another wade out of the sea. Beetle looked at his timepiece.

“They’re coming out twelve a minute,” he said. “That’s the same rate as they came out of the hold. So, if there really are four thousand jinn in there, like Grub says, it’s going to take them…um…just over five and a half hours.”

“Beetle, you really are like
Jillie Djinn,” Jenna teased.

“No, I’m not,” Beetle protested. “She would have figured it out to a tenth of a second.”

“Bet you could do that too.”

Septimus got to his feet. “Well, at least that gives me enough time to Seal the Ice Tunnel,” he said. “And this time I’m going to get it right.”

“Sep—don’t go back there,” Beetle said. “Send Jim Knee to do it.”

“Jim Knee?”

“He’s your jinnee—that’s his job: to do dangerous stuff for you.”

Septimus looked at Jim Knee. The long, lanky jinnee was lying in the sand, clutching his precious hat to his chest like a soggy teddy bear. He was fast asleep.

Septimus shook his head. “Beetle, he’s hopeless. He’d probably fall asleep on the way. Or he’d wait until they were all in the tunnel and
then
Seal it. We can’t risk anything going wrong. I have to do it.”

“Then we’re coming with you,” said Jenna. She looked at the others. “Right?”

“Yep,” said Beetle and Wolf Boy.

“Sorry,” said Lucy, “I can’t come. I promised to do something else. And so did Wolf Boy.”

Everyone, including Wolf Boy, looked puzzled.

“Like what?” said Jenna incredulously. “Go to a party or something?”

“Very funny.
Not
. Wolf Boy and I”—Lucy gave Wolf Boy a meaningful stare—“we promised to help Mr. Miarr get his Light back to the lighthouse. Those horrible Crowes over there—” Lucy waved her arm at the
Cerys
. “They tried to kill him before, and if they see him on top of that rock thingy with the Light, they’ll do it again.”

“You mean there’s someone up there with that weird light?” asked Jenna, shielding her eyes and looking toward the Pinnacle.

“Of course there is,” said Lucy, as though it were obvious. “Mr. Miarr is the
lighthouse
keeper. And we promised to take him and his Light back to the lighthouse—didn’t we?” She looked at Wolf Boy.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “We did.”

“We have to do it
now
, before anything bad happens.” Lucy stared at everyone, daring them to contradict her. No one did.

“But how?” asked Wolf Boy.

“Easy,” said Lucy. “We’ll borrow Jim Knee—Septimus doesn’t want him. He can be a turtle again.”

It was okay with Septimus. It was not okay with Jim Knee. However, okay or not, in a matter of minutes, there was a giant turtle in the water awaiting Lucy’s instructions.

Jenna, Septimus and Beetle watched the turtle swim out toward Star Island, taking a wide detour around the
Cerys
. It swam surprisingly steadily, with Lucy and Wolf Boy sitting comfortably above the water.

“You don’t mess with Lucy Gringe,” said Beetle admiringly. “Even if you’re a jinnee.”

On the beach, the number of warriors was steadily growing. Tertius Fume was forming the emerging jinn into a long line that folded back on itself. It reminded Septimus of the anchor rope that Nicko had once made him lay out on deck when they had taken a boat to the Port. The rope had zigzagged up and down the deck like a snake, so that when the anchor was finally ready to go, it would drop into the water with no knots or hindrance. “Flaking the anchor,” Nicko had called it. Nicko’s pickiness about the rope had annoyed Septimus at
the time, but when they had to throw the anchor overboard in a hurry, he had seen why it was so important. And now he realized that that was what Tertius Fume was doing. He was preparing the jinn to move quickly, easily and without confusion, while keeping a large number of them in a small area. And, Septimus suddenly realized, the ghost did not have to wait until they were all off the
Cerys
.

“I gotta go,” he said. “Now.”

“
We’ve
got to go, you mean,” said Jenna.

“No, Jen.”

“
Yes
, Sep.”

“No. Jen, this is dangerous stuff. If…if anything goes wrong, I want you to tell Marcia what happened. I don’t think Nik quite understands it. But you do—and Marcia will listen to you.”

“So…is Beetle going with you, then?”

Septimus looked at Beetle. “Beetle?” he asked.

“Yep. I’m coming,” he said.

Jenna was quiet for a moment. “It’s because I’m a girl, isn’t it?” she said.

“What is?”

“You don’t want me to come with you because I’m a girl.
It’s this stupid Young Army stuff you’ve been doing. All boys together.”

“It’s not that, Jen.”

“So what
is
it then?”

“It’s…well, it’s because you’re the Princess—because you’re going to be the Queen. You’re important, Jen. Marcia can get another Apprentice, but the Castle can’t get another Queen.”

“Oh,
Sep
,” said Jenna.

“I’d really like you to go back to Milo and Nik. You’ll be safer there.”

“Back to
Milo
?”

“And Nik.”

Jenna sighed. “All right, Sep. I’m not going to argue.” She got to her feet and hugged Septimus hard. “Be careful. I’ll see you soon. Okay?”

“Okay, Jen.”

“Bye, Beetle.”

Suddenly Beetle wanted to give Jenna something—something to remember him by, just in case. He took off his precious Admiral’s jacket and gave it to her. “For you.”

“Beetle, I can’t. You
love
this jacket.”

“Please.”

“Oh,
Beetle
. I’ll take care of it until you come back.”

“Yeah.”

Jenna hugged Beetle too—much to his amazement—then she put the jacket on, scrambled up the rocks and set off toward the rocky spit at the end of the island. She did not look back.

Beetle watched her go.

“Beetle,” said Septimus, breaking into his thoughts.

“Er, yes?”

“You do remember your UnSeen?”

Beetle looked uncertain. “I think so.”

“Good. I’ll do the same one, so we can see each other. We’ll do it now, okay? One…two…three.”

Together Septimus and Beetle—with a little prompting—whispered the UnSeen chant and, after a few false starts, the telltale signs of fuzziness began to appear around Beetle as he slowly—very slowly—disappeared. They set off along the open ground above the sand dunes, heading for the hill that would take them up to the Peepe. As they jogged along they heard Tertius Fume bark, “Forward!”

From within their UnSeens, Septimus and Beetle looked at each other.

“We’re going to have to move fast,” said Septimus.

“Yep.”

They ran, leaping over the rocky ground. Suddenly, no more than a hundred feet in front of them, Tertius Fume came striding out of one of the many paths that led up from the beach. Septimus and Beetle stopped dead. Behind the ghost came the first warrior jinnee, with silver wings shining on its black helmet, the ancient armor dark against the green grass, and—this sent a shiver down Septimus’s spine—was a sharp, stubby sword replacing its right hand, a shield replacing the left. Behind the warrior came another, then another and another. Twelve swordsmen followed by twelve axmen, followed by twelve bowmen, all marching with a mechanical precision in time with Tertius Fume, following the ghost as he progressed across the grass with the strange motion that ghosts have, his feet not always connecting with the ground.

To avoid the jinn Septimus decided to head for the side of the hill near the sea, on the far side of the island. It was tough going—a steep climb with loose shale and no pathway. They climbed fast and drew ahead of Tertius Fume and the jinn, who were winding their way up Syrah’s snaking path. At the top of the hill, at the edge of the trees, Septimus and Beetle
stopped a moment to catch their breath.

“Ouch,” puffed Beetle, who had a stitch. “Better not stop…gotta get there…before they do.”

Septimus shook his head and handed Beetle his water bottle. “Safer to go in…with ’em,” he said.

“
With
them?” Beetle passed the bottle back.

Septimus took a long gulp of water. “That way the Syren probably won’t notice us.”

Beetle raised his eyebrows. He hoped Septimus knew what he was doing. “Look at them, Sep. What a sight.”

The jinn were pouring down the side of the
Cerys
and disappearing below the sparkling green water. In a river of glittering wavelets, they emerged from the sea and joined the line, moving through the sand dunes, across the rocky spit, and up the hill like a silver snake.

“Yep. They’d be quite something to have on your side,” said Septimus.

“Creepy though,” said Beetle, “the way they have no hands.”

To the sound of the first warrior jinn crashing through branches, Septimus and Beetle set off. They skirted the edge of the copse, which was thinner on this side of the hill, and,
as they reached the open cliff top, they saw Tertius Fume and the first warriors emerge from the trees and head toward the Peepe, their marching feet sending vibrations through the hollow ground.

“Hurry,” said Septimus. “We
must
be at the front.”

They hurtled across the grass, Septimus praying that if the Syren was looking out of the Peepe, she would be too busy watching the oncoming jinn to notice the disturbance caused by two UnSeens, one of which was not as UnSeen as it could be. The enormity of what they had to do only hit Septimus as they came close to the warrior jinn. They were huge and frighteningly mechanical. Their blank stares were inhuman and their arms—a mixture of swords, spears, maces, daggers and bows—deadly. The thought of the Castle being overrun with them made Septimus shudder.

He caught Beetle’s eye and saw his thoughts echoed in Beetle’s expression. With a double thumbs-up, they slipped inside the Peepe just ahead of Tertius Fume.

Syrah was waiting. Her milk-white eyes briefly looked through Septimus until Syrah—with some force—twisted her head away and moved forward to greet Tertius Fume. Septimus grabbed hold of Beetle’s hand and together they
ran to the brightly lit hole in the middle of the floor—and jumped.

They landed in the feathers, waded across to the archway and hauled themselves out. As they hurtled along the white passageway past the Lookout, from the stairs deep within the cliff they heard the rhythmic tread of boots on rock.

The warrior jinn were on their way.

A
s though he had done
it a hundred times before, Septimus opened the door to the moving chamber and touched the orange arrow. As the chamber began to move, Septimus allowed himself a smile at Beetle’s dumbstruck expression. Neither said a word—Beetle was speechless, and Septimus was calculating whether they would have time to get back to the chamber before Tertius Fume and the jinn emerged from the stairs. It was going to be close. Nervously he fingered the Alchemie Keye, which he had taken off in readiness.

The arrow crept downward. Septimus spoke. “Beetle, are you
sure
you want
to come the rest of the way? Because if you don’t…well, you know I don’t mind, I really don’t. You can wait here. I can show you how to take this thing back up—just in case.”

“Don’t be silly, Sep.”

The moving chamber suddenly slowed, and Beetle’s stomach shot up to his ears.

“Hey, Sep—where have you gone?” he said.

The chamber settled to a halt.

“Can’t you see me?” asked Septimus, concerned—his hand hovering by the door panel.

“Nope. You’ve disappeared.”

“It’s your UnSeen that’s disappeared.”

“Oh, gosh, I’m really sorry,” said Beetle. “I dunno what happened.”

Septimus let go of his UnSeen.

“Oh, there you are, Sep.
That’s
better.”

“We’ll try them again—together, okay?” said Septimus. “One, two, three…”

“You’ve gone again!” said Beetle.

Septimus reappeared. “One more time—okay?”

“Yep. Here goes.”

“You count this time, Beetle. Do it when
you’re
ready. Sometimes that helps.”

“Okey-dokey,” said Beetle, sounding more confident than he felt.

It didn’t work.

Septimus was aware that time was ticking away. With every second the warrior jinn were getting closer—and every second passed was one less second they had to get back to the moving chamber. He made a decision. “We’ll do without. Who needs UnSeens anyway?” He swiped the door open, and Beetle followed him into the wide, brick passageway with the hissing lamps. They raced through the cold air, clattered down the flight of steps and skidded to a halt in front of the shiny black dead-end wall. Septimus ran his hand across the worn patch on the wall, and the door slid open.

They stepped inside the ice chamber. With a soft
swish
and a
click
the door closed and the blue light came on. Wide-eyed, Beetle stared at the massive Ice Tunnel hatch swimming with water, shining with ancient gold.

“That is
some
hatch,” he gasped.

Septimus was already on his knees, looking for the Sealing Plate.

“Hey, look at all the scribing in the gold,” said Beetle, completely forgetting about the oncoming jinn in his excitement. “This hatch is
incredibly
old. One day we’re going to have to come back. I could bring some translations with me. Just think, if we could read what it says—”

Septimus placed the Keye into the Sealing Plate.

Suddenly the rhythmic
thud
of marching feet on stone came through the walls of the chamber—the jinn had reached the corridor. Beetle came back to reality. He and Septimus looked at each other, translucently pale, as though they were drowning in the thin blue light.

“I guess we’re…trapped,” whispered Beetle.

“Yeah,” said Septimus, trying to keep his voice steady, while concentrating on holding the Keye still. A skin of ice began to snake out from the Keye and encircle the lozenge-shaped hatch. “But at least they can’t get to the Castle now.”

“The Castle…oh, my gosh—why didn’t I think of it before?” said Beetle. “Sep, you got your whistle for the Wizard Tower sled?”

“Yes—why?” Septimus was watching the slow progress of the ice, willing it to move faster.

“Brilliant!
Sep, stop right there.
UnSeal it!”

“Beetle, are you
crazy
?”

“No. We’ll get into the tunnel and Seal it from inside. Then you whistle for the Wizard Tower sled and we go home—simple!”

Septimus heard the marching footsteps coming nearer—and suddenly he realized something. Unless he did an UnSeen, Tertius Fume would simply get the jinn to take the Keye off him and UnSeal the hatch. Beetle clearly could not manage another UnSeen, so if Septimus did do one, Beetle would be with the jinn—
alone
. It was a terrible thought.

“Okay!” Septimus slammed the Keye reverse-side down onto the Sealing Plate and the narrow band of ice melted.

Beetle pulled opened the ice hatch. Below him was the widest, deepest—and surely the darkest—Ice Tunnel he had ever seen. A blast of freezing air met him.

The sound of footsteps rang on the steps outside.

“Halt!” Tertius Fume’s bellow came through the door. “Open the door.” A metallic
clang
sounded. Nothing happened. Septimus smiled—one of the drawbacks of having weapons for hands was that it was much harder to open palm-press doors.

Beetle swung over the edge of the open hatch and lowered himself into the darkness, his feet searching for a foothold.
He grinned. “Rungs,” he said, and disappeared. Septimus followed fast. He found the rungs and tugged the ice hatch closed. Slowly, slowly—horribly slowly—the hatch moved down to its Seal. The door to the ice chamber
swish
ed open, and Septimus caught a brief glimpse of Tertius Fume’s ghostly blue robes and knobby sandaled feet before the hatch settled onto its Seal.

Inside the tunnel everything went black. For a moment Septimus could see nothing—where was the Sealing Plate? On the other side of the hatch, as Tertius Fume bellowed at the first two jinn to
raise the hatch
, Septimus’s Dragon Ring began to glow, its yellow light reflecting off the gold Sealing Plate.

Septimus slammed the Keye onto the plate and, in the ice chamber, Tertius Fume stared in astonishment as a diamond-hard ring of Sealing ice encircled the hatch. His furious bellow penetrated the hatch.

“Glad we’re down here,” said Septimus.

“Yeah,” said Beetle.

His hands already chilled, Septimus brought out a tiny silver whistle and blew hard. As always, no sound came out.

“Do you think it worked?” he said.

“Yeah,” said Beetle. “Of course it did.”

Beetle was right. Far away, in a lonely Ice Tunnel underneath Beetle’s old hut in the backyard of the Manuscriptorium, the Wizard Tower sled Awoke to the happy sound of its Magykal whistle. It curled its carelessly flung purple rope into a neat coil, and in seconds its fine golden runners were cutting crisply along the frost, setting off for unknown territory and pristine ice.

Septimus and Beetle took stock. They could not see much by the light of the Dragon Ring, but what they could see was enough to tell them that this was no ordinary Ice Tunnel. It was, as Beetle put it, the Grandmother of all Ice Tunnels. It was also, he pointed out, wide enough for a ten-sled race and as high as the tallest Manuscriptorium bookshelf. And it was cold. Beetle shivered. The cold in the Ice Tunnel seemed much worse than he remembered.

From far above came Tertius Fume’s angry shout—muffled but clear enough. “Axmen, smash the hatch!”

There was a tremendous
crash
and a shower of ice rained down. Beetle leaped out of the way.

“They can’t break it open, can they?” said Septimus, glancing up anxiously.

“Well…I dunno.” Beetle looked worried. “I suppose if they go on long enough they might.”

“But I thought ice hatches were indestructible,” said Septimus.

“I d-don’t think they’ve been tested against warrior j-jinn,” said Beetle, his teeth beginning to chatter with cold. “At least, it didn’t say so in the official handbook. Wild elephants, yes. They b-borrowed some from a traveling fair, apparently. Battering rams, yes—but no one tried four th-thousand warrior jinn. Per-probably couldn’t get hold of any.”

A series of blows rained down on the hatch, followed by a further shower of ice. A shout of excitement came from Tertius Fume. “Mace men to the front! Smash the hatch!
Smash it!
I want to see Marcia Overstrand’s expression tomorrow when she wakes to see the Wizard Tower surrounded!” A series of massive blows to the hatch followed. A large chunk of ice landed in front of them, breaking into millions of crystals.

“Let’s get out of here,” said Septimus. “We can go meet the sled.”

“N-no, Sep,” said Beetle. “Rule one—once you’ve C-Called the s-sled, stay where you are. How else is it going to f-find you?”

“I can Call it again.”

“It will still go to where you f-first Called it. Then you’ve just wasted more t-time.”

“Well, I’ll stop it on its way. We’ll see it coming.”

“You can’t just flag it down like a d-donkey cart.”

Another series of blows shook the hatch and dislodged a flurry of ice.

“I…I don’t think the sled’s going to get here in time, Beetle,” said Septimus. “The Castle must be
miles
away.”

“Yeah.”

Crash.

“But we have to warn Marcia,” said Septimus, “we
have
to. Hey, Beetle…
Beetle, are you okay
?”

Beetle nodded, but he was shivering badly.

Another
crash
came from above, and a huge lump of ice smashed down. Septimus dragged Beetle out of the way and discovered that his fingers didn’t seem to be working properly. He waited, huddled with Beetle, for the sound of the ice hatch opening—which must surely come soon. A spray of ice dampened his face and Septimus closed his eyes.

Something nudged him. It was the Wizard Tower sled.

The smashing of the Ice Tunnel hatch sent a loud
boom
along the tunnel, followed by a great
crash
as the hatch hit the ice below.

“Faster,
faster
,” Septimus urged the Wizard Tower sled, which
swish
ed through the tunnel, its narrow silver runners cutting through the hoar frost on the ice. It was the most frightening sled ride Septimus had ever taken—and, as someone who had been a passenger of Beetle’s, that was saying something. It was not only the speed; they were also traveling in complete darkness. Septimus had Instructed the sled to douse its light.

A fine spray of ice flew into the air as they went, and Septimus, with his hands clasping Beetle’s waist, was aware that Beetle was getting dangerously cold. He realized he should have sat Beetle behind him to protect him from the icy blast as they traveled, but he did not dare stop now. He told himself that as soon as they reached the nearest hatch in the Castle, he would get Beetle aboveground and into the warmth of the sun. Then he would Transport himself to Marcia—he was pretty good at Transports within the Castle now—and together they would Seal off all tunnels into the Castle. It would be a close-run thing. He figured he needed to be at least
two hours ahead of the warrior jinn. But at the breathtaking speed the sled was going, Septimus thought he’d easily manage it.

As the sled sped down the long, straight tunnel, Septimus risked a backward glance. He saw a strange sight—a line of tiny pinpricks of light was moving down from the hatch: the silver wings of the warrior jinn were lighting up in the dark. Septimus shivered at the thought of the jinn pouring into the Ice Tunnel, with nothing now but a long, freezing march between them and the Castle. Not that the cold would bother the jinn, or their ghostly leader. The thought of the long journey ahead through the ice began to worry Septimus, and he decided that as soon as the jinn were out of sight he would stop for a moment and swap places with Beetle. He’d try a Heat Spell for himself and hope that it warmed up Beetle a little.

Septimus’s plans were interrupted by Tertius Fume’s bellow echoing along the tunnel: “To the Castle!” This was followed by the synchronized
crunch
of marching feet on ice. The warrior jinn were on their way.

To Septimus’s consternation, the Wizard Tower sled had chosen that very moment to slow down. It was now crawling
along at a snail’s pace that Beetle, had he not been shivering uncontrollably, would have derided.

“Faster!” Septimus urged the sled. “Faster!” It did not respond but bumped slowly over a patch of rough ice—the kind that is often found below an ice hatch.

Anxiously Septimus looked back to see how fast the warrior jinn were gaining on them. At first he was reassured—they appeared not to have moved at all. He could see a steady flow of tiny silver lights moving down from the Ice Tunnel hatch and then it was hard to tell what was happening. The jinn did not seem to be getting closer and yet the
clud-clump
sound of their marching feet reverberated through the tunnel. Puzzled, Septimus stared into the dark, and then he realized something rather important—the pinpoints of light were receding. The jinn were marching in the opposite direction. Septimus could not believe what had happened.
The sled had gone the wrong way.

The Wizard Tower sled came to a halt. At first Septimus thought it had stopped because it had realized its mistake. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the shape of an ice hatch above and remembered what he had told the sled: “Nearest hatch. Fast as you can.” Septimus had assumed
that the nearest hatch would be in the Castle. In his anxiety about Beetle, he hadn’t given any thought to where else the Ice Tunnel might go. In fact, he had assumed that it didn’t go anywhere else—after all, where
would
it go?