The Trials of Seven

By: ChocolateEclar

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I receiving any profit from, the story this fanfic is based on. The Great Diana Wynne Jones has the pleasure of owning Archer's Goon.

Claimer: I simply own the plot and my personification of Archer, Shine, Dillian, Hathaway, Torquil, Erskine, and Venturus's parents, Matri and Agustivo Destinatus and their home planet, Caliga.

To passivor: Can you please be more specific about the spelling? I use Spell Check quite often so my mistakes are more often grammatical than spelling. (It's just much easier to improve when you point out an error, you see. I won't take offense as long as you're polite about it.) Thanks for another review! It's definitely appreciated.

To Calcifersgrl: I hope I depict the characters properly. I even reread the book again before finally posting this story. I'm glad you like this so far. Thanks for reviewing!

To MaidM: I see what you mean. One of my friends and I love speaking in British accents. - I'm pleased you enjoyed the last line. There are many versions of weird people. (laughs) Thanks again!

To Kim: I know what you mean about questions. I remember when I read AG the first time… Boy, did I ever have questions! One being: What exactly are the seven? -

Ah, I've never thought of this like that, but I am writing in a "prequel/sequel format," as you put it. Thanks a bunch for the review!

Chapter 3: Travels & Tantrums

"Ven! Listen –"

"No!" snapped Venturus, a little taller than Hathaway. "You listen to me! You don't know what it's like being the youngest of all of you! Always hearing the whispers at school! I can't get out of all of your shadows!"

"Hey, isn't that Archer's little brother?"

"Couldn't be. He's not good enough looking."

"Oh, but he is. Didn't you hear…?"

"I may not be the youngest," Hathaway hissed. "But I am the middle child. I know how you feel!"

"You're lying!"

"Look at him. Trying to be like Dillian with all that pomp."

"Venturus! Don't you get it?" Hathaway yelled. "We're all in the same boat – the younger four. All in someone's shadow!"

Venturus let out a sound between a snarl and a grunt and stormed off.

"Little Venturus is sulking! How funny!"

"Isn't it now?"

"Why can't he be more like Archer? Both are such technology buffs, but Venturus is such a little copycat. Does nothing original."

"I have to agree."

"Lunch anyone?"

"Certainly."

They, a group of upperclassmen – mostly girls – called the Regalis, talked about Venturus at school as if he were as interesting as their meals… Venturus arrived, fuming, in his bedroom, which was littered with drawings of spaceships and other inventions – some stolen from Archer. He kicked over his nightstand, shattering the blue, glass lamp resting on top.

"Look at that height!"

"He'll be as tall as his brother Erskine."

"Do you think he'll be just as stupid?"

"Probably."

"I heard he's like Archer – a real techno whiz."

"Really? He doesn't look it."

"AHHHHH!" roared Venturus, chucking the broken lamp out his open window, through the screen, and out onto the front lawn below.

A great amount of swearing came from under his window, but he ignored it, flopping on his stomach on his bed. A few moments later, a thump of footsteps on the staircase and then –

"Venturus…"

"Er-kind," came a response, muffled by a pillow.

"What was that for?" sighed Erskine.

"Ask Hathaway," grumbled Venturus, shifting his head to the side so his face wasn't stifled any longer.

"Asking you," replied Erskine.

"Erskine…" Venturus groaned. "Not now…"

"Not leaving 'til you tell me," Erskine responded.

Venturus swore and jumped off his bed and at his brother. Before Venturus could hit him or shove him out the door though, Erskine had snatched him by his wrist. He flipped Venturus so his back was pressed against him and twisted Venturus's arm behind his back.

"Leggo," Venturus hissed, calling Erskine the foulest name he could think of. He struggled to free his arm before digging his foot into Erskine's.

"Nice try," said Erskine, smirking. He just yanked Venturus up higher so his feet dangled farther off the ground.

"You really are a damn gorilla, Erskine," Venturus growled.

"Gonna tell?"

"No!"

Erskine tightened his grip on Venturus's wrist, causing a strangled yelp to emit from the younger. "Fine! I'll tell you!" Venturus screamed. "Even though it's none of your damn business," he added in a sharp, low voice.

Erskine immediately let go of his younger brother and shoved him away. Venturus glared at Erskine before sitting down on the edge of his bed. "I was just quarreling with Hathaway."

"And?"

"And I hate being the youngest, got it?" mumbled Venturus.

Erskine raised one eyebrow.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," grumbled Venturus. And! And I couldn't take Hathaway's harping on me to be a good boy and listen to him!"

"Threw out the lamp?"

"Because I already broke it and I wanted to get rid of it," said Venturus.

"On my head."

"Yeah…" muttered Venturus with a slight grin. "Sorry 'bout that."

Shrugging, Erskine sat across from Venturus on the metal chair for Venturus's desk. "Feel better?" he asked.

Venturus let out a laugh. "Yeah," he answered. "I guess I do. Nice job, you gorilla."

Erskine chuckled. "Worked though. Gonna apologize to Hathaway?"

Venturus groaned and murmured, "Might."

"Better," threatened Erskine.

Venturus grimaced and let out another little groan, hanging his head.

Although he had always been quite close to Erskine, being near in age to him, Howard still found he liked Hathaway next and nearly as much. Hathaway you could be rather frank with and not worry about what he would tell the other five or their parents.

The more Howard thought about it, the more he realized Hathaway was the one always looking after him and Torquil and Erskine. It was also what made Torquil so angry with him sometimes. Torquil had never felt like he needed to be watched and protected.

Howard cringed at the thought of how he, as Venturus, had definitely abused that protection by using it against a boy in school that had always annoyed him. Like Awful had done with the group of girls, he had used Hathaway to selfishly defend himself. It made Howard feel terrible. He refused to be like that this time. He hated Venturus.

It hurt to think such a thought though. I am Venturus! he thought crossly as he walked home from school. But at the same time, he added as he glanced up at a building, I'm not. It was the cathedral. Torquil had to be there, sitting alone in the side chapel if he was in a miserable mood, practicing with the choir or something music related if he wasn't.

The Venturus in Howard couldn't resist the chance to visit a relative he actually could stand, and soon, he found himself standing in front of the locked cathedral door. He didn't use a knife like Erskine though. He simply pictured the mechanism of a lock in his head and worked one of the gears.

Click! The door went inwards at Howard's push. Everything was quite calm inside. No verger bustling up to him this time. Howard shuffled between the chairs and towards the side chapel. Torquil was not inside so he bustled towards the vestry. He smirked as he peered around the doorway to see Torquil examining the cupboard full of priest robes and his costumes. Torquil himself was in his cassock with his dark curls coiling around his ears.

"Strange wardrobe," Howard remarked matter-of-factly with a grin.

Torquil didn't even turn. "I can reassure you I will never wear any jungle attire ever again," he replied.

Chuckling, Howard stepped inside the room and sat on the old pew. He was acting like Venturus. He grimaced and became more polite. "How're you?" he asked.

"Better than I've felt in ages," Torquil answered. He pulled out a wide poncho with red, yellow, and green designs along the bottom and a broad sombrero. He slipped off his robe and tugged the blanket-like cloak over the black shirt he had on underneath. Howard laughed at the hat.

"No comments from the peanut gallery, limpet," hissed Torquil, analyzing himself in the mirror. "Now," said Torquil, turning around, "is this a cordial visit or do you want something, little brother?"

"I don't want anything," insisted Howard. "I just needed to see one of you." He laughed. "After all that's happened, I don't think I'll ever want to be away so long from you guys again." He meant it too. It felt right to be with his siblings, keeping each other company.

Nodding, Torquil sat across from Howard and said, "It's good to see you too, limpet."

Howard grinned slightly at the name. Torquil would probably call him that forever.

Awful, when Howard arrived home, was howling on the kitchen floor. Apparently, she was being made to practice the piano. Howard strolled right past her and out into the front hall. He'd heard worst wails in the past…from himself.

"Worse kid than Awful, Venturus."

Scowling, Howard stepped up the stairs and into his bedroom. He tipped the contents of his bag onto his bed and turned to his dresser. Sitting atop it was a postcard with a messy scrawl the back addressed to him. There was a blob before "Howard" that looked suspiciously like a crossed out "Vent". It could only be one person then.

Sure enough, when Howard split open the top of the envelope with his finger and pulled out a postcard, he could see Erskine's untidy signature at the bottom of back of the paper. Howard studied the postcard's front. It was a picture of a fountain of a woman on a chariot-like device with two lions pulling it. In medium blue cursive writing it read: Madrid. Under, in smaller letters, it stated: Cibeles.

On the back of the postcard, Erskine wrote just like he spoke:

Howard,

In Madrid right now. Nice here. May stay for a week. Then going to Valencia. Hear good beaches there.

Howard paused to picture Erskine walking out onto sand and the beach-goers running from him, leaving their towels and bags in the panic. He grinned and read on:

How are you and the Sykes? Awful causing trouble? Keeping her out of it?

See you, Little Venturus

Erskine

Howard reread the letter before setting it back down. He couldn't write to Erskine without an address, and he didn't know what to say anyway. He decided to practice his violin willingly to clear his thoughts.

Half a month later, a postcard came from Valencia ("Big city. Good food…") and then Morocco ("Went to Tangier and Casablanca…"). Howard decided to keep the postcards in a shoebox under his bed labeled: Erskine's Postcards.

When Erskine started sending Howard bigger things – like a wooden, African religious ritual mask – he took a bigger cardboard box from a rubbish bin and branded it: Erskine's Souvenirs. The box was just small enough to fit under his bed. The mask had three small holes for eyes and mouth and a little bulge in between the eyeholes for a pretend nose. Shells where hanging from the mask the size of one of Howard's hands.

When Howard returned home from school one day, he was greeted by Awful holding the mask up to her face and making strange gurgling noises. Laughing, Howard sat by Quentin who was watching Awful with an amused smirk. Quentin's eyes went wide and, as Howard asked him what was the matter, he rushed off, saying, "That's just what I need for that story!"

Awful set the mask down on the kitchen table. She and Howard exchanged a grimace. "Darn, I gave Dad a new book idea."

"Yeah, nice going," Howard agreed. "Now he won't be normal for a month."

When Catriona walked into the kitchen half an hour later, Howard and Awful were playing rummy with a deck of old playing cards from the Everything-But drawer in the hall stand. "What –" began Catriona before she stopped, massaging her temple. "Oh," she began again. "New book?"

"Yep," muttered Awful.

"I won," Howard remarked with a grin, sitting down his winning hand of cards.

"Argh! Not fair! Mum distracted me!" Awful yowled.

"She did not," Howard insisted. "I won fair and square. Now let's play again."

"Shan't listen to you, you cheat!" hissed Awful.

"Howard, a cup of coffee please," interrupted Catriona.

Nodding, Howard stood up as Awful threw the cards at his back.

"Awful!" yelled Howard.

"Quiet!" roared Quentin from his study.

Both Awful and Howard's mouths snapped closed. Awful stomped away then and up to Howard's room. The sound of a box being dragged and emptied reached Howard's ears.

"Awful! Don't touch those letters!" he roared, running after her.

Catriona sighed, standing up to make her own cup of coffee.

"Awful, I'm warning you –"

"I'll rip it!"

"You little –"

"AHHH! Mum! Howard hurt my arm!"

"She deserved it!"

"BOTH OF YOU, SHUT IT!" Quentin hollered.

Catriona sat back down at the table, waiting for the coffee pot to fill. She let out another sigh as a crash came from upstairs.

Just another normal day.

A/N: This chapter gave me some problems towards the middle, but once I got over that hump, it wasn't so bad to write. I quite like it really.

A/N 2: Next Chapter: Skipping ahead a few years, another appearance from one of Howard/Venturus's siblings… But why has he/she returned?

A/N 3: REVIEW! Please? 'Til next time! Bye! -