Septimus Heap, Book Six_ Darke - Angie Sage [119]
“Ethel!” she gasped, sitting bolt upright.
“Ah! You all right, Mum?” asked Simon, who was taking his turn on watch and had been drifting into a doze.
Sarah wasn’t sure. “I dreamed . . . I dreamed I was being suffocated. And then poor little Ethel . . . oh, Ethel.”
Simon was suddenly on his feet. A tiny tendril of smoky Darkenesse was curling in under Benjamin Heap’s door.
“Wake up! Everyone wake up!” he yelled.
Thunder whinnied loudly and snorted. Instantly everyone was awake.
Septimus made for the door, intending to put some kind of Emergency Stop on it. But Marcellus grabbed him.
“Do not touch it, Apprentice! It is too dangerous—and too late.”
Septimus stopped. Another wisp of Darkenesse puffed in around one of the hinges—it was indeed too late.
Jenna appeared at her cupboard door, hair awry, witch’s cloak up to her chin against the cold. “What is it?” she asked sleepily, half knowing already what the answer was.
“It’s coming in,” said Septimus. As if on cue, a spurt of Darkenesse puffed through the keyhole with such force that it looked as though it had been blown in with a pair of bellows.
“We must leave at once,” said Marcellus. “Sarah, is everything ready?”
“Yes,” said Sarah sadly.
As part of the previous day’s preparations, a huge coil of rope lay on the floor below the window. One end of the rope was tied around the central mullion of the window; it then snaked back across the room, looped around the base of the huge stone chimney that went up through the middle of the room, where it was secured with an impressive knot. Sarah pulled open the window and a freezing blast of air blew in, taking her breath away. It was not a night to be out, let alone a night to be climbing nearly a hundred feet down an exposed north wall, but they had no choice. With Jenna’s help Sarah picked up the coil of rope and together they heaved it out the window into the night. They jumped back and watched the loop around the mullion tighten as the rope hurtled down to the river far below.
Simon went over to Thunder. “Good-bye, boy,” he whispered. “I’m sorry . . . so sorry.” He put his hand in his pocket and felt for his last peppermints. Thunder nuzzled at his hand and then rubbed his nose against Simon’s shoulder. Breaking his promise to Lucy not to do any more Darke stuff, Simon did a Sleep Spell laced with just enough Darke to give Thunder a chance of surviving. As the horse settled down onto Sarah’s best rug and his eyes closed, Simon gently placed a blanket over him.
The previous day, when they were making plans to escape, they had decided to leave in order of their importance to the safety of the Castle. That had made Simon third to last—Sarah had been next and then Lucy had been last, but Simon had insisted on going last. There was no way he was going to leave Lucy and his mother alone to face the Darke. As Septimus and Marcellus stood at the window, Simon sat beside Thunder and wondered if they would be spending their time together in the Darke Domaine.
Another smoky tendril came slithering under the door.
“Time to go, Apprentice,” said Marcellus.
Septimus steeled himself. He took a deep breath and looked down. He saw the rope snaking down the rough stones of the Ramblings wall and disappearing into the night. The previous afternoon he had Transformed it from three rugs, two blankets and a pile of old towels. He had never Transformed anything into something so continuous before and, as he peered out the window and tried—unsuccessfully—to see the ground, he hoped he’d done it right.
Sarah was fussing, anxiously checking the knots. She was confident that even if the mullion did not hold their weight, the chimney would—but she was not so sure about the knots. She just hoped she’d got them right. If only Nicko was here, she thought, he’d know how to do them. A pang of concern shot through her at the thought of Nicko, but she pushed it away. Time enough to worry about Nicko when they’d all got out safely,