The Black Amulet Read online

  To Ruby it seemed as if he was waiting for an answer so she just nodded.

  ‘Good.’

  Ruby breathed a silent sigh of relief as Victor Brynn turned back to his bedroom door, happy the lecture was over. But then something else occurred to him and he paused and looked round at her again.

  ‘I’m indebted to you, Ruby, for killing the Witch in Hampstead and saving my life. And that is why I agreed to take you on as my pupil to try and help you learn about being a Badlander, despite your obvious limitations with magic. I’m happy to accept that the wyrd has created this opportunity for both of us, that fate has worked in our favour to give us both a second chance at life. But I won’t continue with our arrangement if you don’t respect me or my wishes, even if you are brave and resourceful.

  ‘What we are doing is too dangerous for you to be reckless like this. I dread to think what the Order might do to you if they find out, or to me if they discover I’m teaching a girl. For that is what you are, Ruby, a girl in a world run by men. There’s no getting away from it, however much you want to be accepted as a Badlander. One day, I hope we might show them they’re wrong, but you’re going to have to do it according to my rules. You can’t change how the Order is run overnight. It’s been controlled the same way, by men, for centuries.’

  Victor Brynn shut the door sharply behind him, to make a point. Ruby listened to him climbing into bed, the mattress springs creaking.

  She heard something shuffling above her and, thinking it must be a bird or a mouse, ignored it. There was always some little creature moving about in the walls of the house.

  Two green eyes watched as Ruby opened her bedroom door and clicked it shut behind her. Fluttering about, the bat eventually found a place to sleep, hanging from the latch of the little window, like a tiny black fruit, its wings folded round its body to keep warm.

  THREE

  At the same time, elsewhere in the Badlands, on a deserted part of Hampstead Heath, a boy wearing a herringbone coat and a red silk scarf, with his brown hair combed up into an elaborate quiff, was watching a small, hunched figure as it scurried towards the dark shape of a large wood ahead.

  Standing beside the boy was a man with thick black hair parted so neatly that, in the moonlight, his head looked like it had a white scar across it. He was dressed in a smart brown leather trench coat and wore expensive-looking slip-on boots with thick soles and pointed silver toes. He seemed to own the very air around him.

  ‘So, Thomas Gabriel,’ said the man, ‘this seems a good opportunity to show me what you’ve been learning. As your new mentor, I need to report back to the Order on your progress with magic, and how you’re taking to it, after the unfortunate demise of your Master.’

  ‘I’d be happy to, sir. And may I say how honoured I am to have Randall Givens, head of the High Council of Badlanders, as my new mentor. I hope to be as famous as you one day, sir.’

  ‘That’s kind of you, boy, and, although I applaud your ambition, it’s a little early to be thinking so far ahead, don’t you think? For now, show me what you can do.’

  Thomas Gabriel nodded and started walking, and then something occurred to him and he looked back.

  ‘Aren’t you coming with me to watch?’

  Givens produced a small piece of scrying glass and breathed on it, wiping it down with a white handkerchief. ‘I’ll observe from a distance; it’ll give me a better view of things. Unless you’d like me to come with you because you think you might need help?’

  ‘Oh, no, that shouldn’t be necessary, sir.’

  As Thomas Gabriel turned back, he saw the hunched figure ahead of them disappear between the trees. He drew out a bottle of black dust from a coat pocket, popping out the small cork. After tipping a single grain of the dust into his hand, Thomas Gabriel put the bottle away.

  ‘Don’t you think it might be a little reckless to use Slap Dust where trees are involved?’ asked Givens.

  ‘I should be fine, sir. I’ve mastered the art of short travel.’

  Thomas Gabriel muttered an instruction before slapping his hands together. He shot forward like a stone from a catapult, skimming over the ground, the ends of his red silk scarf flying behind him.

  In a matter of seconds, the boy caught up with the small figure and passed it, guiding his body past the oncoming trees as they sped towards him. He slowed suddenly as the fizz of the Slap Dust faded from his hands and he landed lightly on the ground, barely rustling the leaf litter. Knowing Givens would be watching, using his scrying mirror, Thomas Gabriel smiled, but not too smugly, wary of giving the man any reason to find fault with his display so far. Composing himself, he turned to face the small creature, a Gobbling. It was a particularly ugly one with knobbly elbows and kneecaps and a spine so hunched its head looked as though it would roll off without a chest to rest its chin against.

  Its grey, hairy body was heaving as it tried to catch its breath. Two black eyes looked ready to pop out of their sockets as they tried to take in how the boy had seemingly whizzed ahead out of nowhere.

  Thomas Gabriel folded his arms and shook his head. ‘It’s not your night.’ He pointed at the gold signet ring around one of its thumbs. ‘Gobblings like you shouldn’t go grave robbing on my æhteland.’

  In response, the Gobbling gave three sharp calls into the night sky. Thomas Gabriel heard a rustling among the trees, and saw more grey bodies moving between the trunks. A ring of Gobblings emerged to surround him, yellow teeth bared, their ears pricked towards him. Their cold black eyes gave nothing away. A foul stench wafted off their hot bodies like the dirty smell of dung.

  Thomas Gabriel raised an arm, forcing worried grunts from the ring of creatures.

  ‘Grist—’ Thomas Gabriel paused as he tried to remember the exact word he needed. He was determined not to refer to The Black Book of Magical Instruction in his pocket because he wanted to show Givens he had the measure of magic. The word shimmered in his head when he finally remembered it.

  ‘Gristbátian!’ he said clearly, with as much authority as he could muster.

  A fine spray of white sparks rose from his fingertips, surrounding him in a ring of prickly energy that sent the Gobblings tottering backwards, scared by the power this boy seemed to have. Mouths full of sharp teeth appeared at intervals around the edges of the ring, hovering in the air and snapping viciously at the Gobblings, forcing them further back.

  ‘Magic, you see?’ grinned Thomas Gabriel. ‘And, being a Badlander, there’s plenty more where that came from. Now, give me the ring,’ he said, addressing the Gobbling he’d been chasing. But the creature just hissed, then spat at the boy, who dodged the slimy, shiny missile.

  ‘Get it for me, will you?’ said Thomas Gabriel and a tiny creature with a single eye in the centre of its forehead shot up out of his coat pocket like a firework and landed on the Gobbling’s hand and began tugging at the ring. It struggled because it was so small and delicate with a tiny, fairy-like body and lacy wings. The Gobbling lashed out and sent the little creature fluttering up like a butterfly.

  ‘You don’t want to mess with my pet. A One Eye might be useful for sniffing out magical things, but it’s got big teeth too!’ The One Eye gave a little cry and darted back to the Gobbling’s hand. This time it opened its tiny mouth to reveal a set of very large teeth that sprang forward. They were sharp too. When it bit down, the teeth went straight through the Gobbling’s thumb, slicing it clean off. The Gobbling screamed horribly as the winged creature flew back to the boy’s shoulder and perched there, removing the ring and giving it to Thomas Gabriel before tossing the thumb to the ground.

  ‘No creature steals on my patch!’ boomed Thomas Gabriel as the shrieking Gobbling dropped to its knees and scrabbled in the dirt for its severed thumb.

  ‘Now—’ But he stopped as, quite suddenly, the ring of sharp teeth snapping at the Gobblings and protecting him, disappeared. Thomas Gabriel’s triumphant smile dropped away as he realized the spell he had cast wasn’t working any more.r />
  ‘Gristbátian!’

  White sparks flickered up round his fingers again, but this time they died away without having any effect.

  For a moment, no one seemed to know what to do.

  Excited growls started up around Thomas Gabriel. Some of the Gobblings were brave enough to take a step forward, and then all of them started closing in on the now defenceless boy. The One Eye flew at the nearest Gobbling with a scream, but there were too many. Thomas Gabriel stared in horror at a Gobbling mouth, open wide, the jagged bottom teeth frosty with spit, and then he felt something sharp nick the side of his face. He dodged away, tripping as he did so, and fell to the ground.

  The next thing he felt was a sharp blast of air and, when he opened his eyes again, Thomas Gabriel saw Givens standing beside him, conjuring white sparks of magic out of his fingers at the Gobblings. The boy did not recognize the spell that Givens was using, but it caused the creatures to vanish swiftly, one after the other, with a popping sound, until they were all gone.

  Givens had barely broken sweat. He smoothed back a loose strand of black hair before bending down to pick up the ring Thomas Gabriel had dropped.

  ‘A spell fading from the fingers like that can be a sign of an improper Commencement,’ said Givens. ‘Are you sure you Commenced correctly, boy, followed all the rules? No problems with the ceremony, were there?’

  Thomas Gabriel shook his head as he stood up and brushed himself down.

  ‘Hmm, must be down to your skill with magic then. The spell you chose is hard to master and use effectively, needing great concentration not only to cast it but to hold it too. Clearly, you’ve still got a lot to learn, and there’s not much time either.’

  ‘What do you mean, sir?’

  Givens produced a white envelope from a pocket and handed it to Thomas Gabriel. The boy’s name was written on the front in neat black ink.

  Inside was a white card with a clock face on it, the second hand ticking round. Below it was written:

  The High Council formally invites

  Thomas Gabriel

  to its annual meeting on

  15th May

  ‘You’ve been summoned to show the High Council your skill with magic,’ said Givens.

  Thomas Gabriel stared at him, his mouth open. For a moment, there was nothing but the ticking of the clock on the invitation.

  ‘It’s highly irregular, I agree,’ continued Givens, ‘but there are rumours that your Master, Simeon, didn’t want you to Commence and receive magic. Certain colleagues say he confided that very fact to them only days before he died.’ Givens coughed. ‘The High Council has to be sure you’re meant to become a Badlander, given your Master’s unfortunate demise. They therefore want to assess your magical skills with a test.’

  He leant forward and lowered his voice. ‘Some Council members are looking for any reason to prevent you carrying on being a Badlander. Certain people want your æhteland. It’s a prime location in London. Simeon was a crafty old fox to keep it as long as he did.’ Givens smiled and straightened up. ‘But I have every confidence you’ll show them you’re meant to be a Badlander. It’s only March. You’ve still got a few weeks until the meeting. That should give you plenty of time to practise your magic. I can help advise you too, of course.’

  Givens peered at Thomas Gabriel’s face without waiting for the boy to reply.

  ‘That Gobbling gave you a nasty bite. You need to return home and see to it. I must get back to my apprentice anyway. We’ve been surveying a Ley Line over the last few weeks and, however able he thinks he is, he’s young and I can’t leave him for more than a few hours. There’s always so much for us Badlanders to learn, isn’t there?’

  Givens managed a rather overripe smile before reaching into his pocket for a bottle of Slap Dust. He looked intently at Thomas Gabriel. ‘The Ley Line we’re assessing runs fairly close to the cottage you inherited from your Master. Perhaps I could meet you there for some magical tuition? You’re clearly in need of it before the Council meeting.’

  Thomas Gabriel shuffled his feet. ‘I don’t really go there. Too much to do on my æhteland here in London.’

  ‘Oh, that seems such a waste. I’d be there as often as I could if I was lucky enough to have inherited a country retreat from my Master. I’ll be in touch then about when we’ll meet again. In the meantime, do study hard, won’t you? The Council’s test will be an extremely thorough examination of your current magical skills and potential. They’ll be looking for any excuse to fail you.’

  Givens gave another broad, insincere smile before slapping his hands together and vanishing to leave Thomas Gabriel alone among the trees. The bite on his face was starting to throb. But something else far more uncomfortable was troubling him. It wasn’t the shame he felt at having to be rescued by Givens, it was fear, lodged like a spear deep between his ribs, that made his heart tight and his breath short.

  Thomas Gabriel already suspected why the magic had failed him, but hadn’t dared tell Givens. The man had been right to ask about Thomas Gabriel’s Commencement because the boy should never have Commenced at all. His Master, Simeon Rowell, had forbidden it with his dying breath yet Thomas Gabriel had disobeyed him, stealing the silver key required for Commencing and receiving magic. Thomas Gabriel hadn’t wanted to believe magic might leave him because of what he’d done. But now he couldn’t think of anything else.

  When Thomas Gabriel arrived home, he waved away the One Eye as it fluttered around him, advising him to clean his face as Givens had suggested. He walked on quickly, rubbing away the blood with his sleeve. He didn’t stop until he was standing in the library, a large, round room with bookshelves lining the walls all the way from the floor up to the domed ceiling which had at its centre a large, circular skylight full of night sky.

  The book he was looking for, To Commence or Not?, which dealt with anomalies occurring after the Commencement of apprentice Badlanders, was catalogued in the library on one of the topmost shelves. He used magic to levitate and, as he rose, his chest swelled with pride as he looked down at the floor. He was already about ten metres up, close to the top of the book stacks, and he wondered if perhaps he was worrying too much about his problems with the Gobblings earlier.

  ‘Maybe Givens was right,’ he said to his One Eye as it fluttered up beside him. ‘Perhaps I just did the spell wrong. I’m still learning. Maybe it wasn’t anything to do with my Commencement—’

  Thomas Gabriel dropped like a stone, the levitation spell vanishing as if all the power had been cut.

  His arms flashed out as he tried to grab hold of the bookshelves. When the toes of his shoes landed on a shelf, he started to fall back and threw out a hand, the fingers clamping down like a beak. He juddered and, with all his strength, pulled himself close to the stacks of books, using both arms, and clung on like a limpet.

  He was about five metres up. Not high enough to make jumping down impossible, but that wasn’t the point. His magic had failed. Again. Just like it had among the trees with the Gobblings. He stared at the book title in front of him: Great Badlanders Vol. 5. He looked down the row and guessed there must be at least fifty volumes. It had been his dream to be listed in one of those books for as long as he could remember.

  When he let go and dropped to the floor, it seemed to him he fell more quickly due to the heaviness in his heart.

  He used the ladder the second time to find the book and To Commence or Not? told him everything he knew deep down already, but hadn’t wanted to admit to himself.

  *

  If an apprentice is not invited to Commence by their Master then the bond between them is broken forever, according to the Ordnung. This can lead to disappointment and anger in an apprentice. Remember, however hard it might be to say ‘no’ to an apprentice, it is doubly hard for them to hear it. In some cases, boys may try and take the key by force and there have been instances of injury and even death when Masters have been ill-prepared for the reaction of their apprentices to a refusal.
r />   The protective charm around the key will keep its magic safe from any unintended use, so if an apprentice, deemed unfit to Commence, does steal the key then their Commencement will fail. In most cases, the ceremony never happens at all, but, on the rare occasion that the Commencement ceremony occurs, the magic will degrade eventually. The apprentice will feel the magic starting to slip away from them over time. Having tasted its power, this can be a most difficult truth to accept. The apprentice will be left bereft of magic eventually. Ultimately, this may well lead to madness, despair and death.

  Thomas Gabriel stepped away from the book as though it was an object laced with an infectious disease. He looked at the One Eye perched on his shoulder.

  ‘You’re good with magical things. How do I fix this?’ Sensing an unwelcome change in the boy’s mood, the tiny creature fluttered into the air as if to escape.

  ‘Well?’ Thomas Gabriel sounded impatient. When he reached out to grab it, it flew higher, out of reach. ‘Tell me how to sort out the problem.’

  ‘I can’t,’ it squeaked.

  ‘You have to!’ shouted Thomas Gabriel. ‘I’ve got to fix it before the High Council meeting. If the Order finds out my magic’s not working because I took that key from Simeon and Commenced without his permission, I’ll be kicked out. I’ll be no one.’

  The One Eye shot up higher and crouched on the topmost bookshelf, keeping out of sight. It only reappeared when the fuse inside the boy seemed to be spent and he was sitting quietly on the floor with books strewn around him, muttering to himself.

  FOUR

  Ed walked out of the main school building, bending down when he noticed a shoelace was undone. Other kids were leaving too, streaming out around him and scurrying down the steps, eager to make the most of what was left of the sunny afternoon now classes were over.

  A sudden, sharp slap to the back of his head sent stars fizzing across Ed’s eyes. By the time he had blinked them away, there was only laughter disappearing among the bobbing heads and clicking of shoes. It could have been one of any number of his classmates, until a boy with brown, shoulder-length hair glanced round and gave himself away.