The Sorceress

by Michael Scott

  Josh spotted the Bard and drew in a deep breath. “Shakespeare!” Strong and commanding, his voice echoed in the silence, and both the Bard and Palamedes looked over. Josh waved and pointed to the walls, which were now gray with wolves pouring over the battlements. “Retreat! Get back behind the moat!”

  The Bard started to shake his head, but the big knight simply caught the smaller man around the waist and slung him across his shoulders. Ignoring the kicking and protesting, the Saracen Knight turned and raced back toward Flamel and the twins, with the Gabriel Hounds, in both human and dog form, close at his heels.

  “Well done,” Palamedes said as he came level with Josh. “We were about to be overrun. You saved us.” The Saracen Knight dumped Shakespeare off his shoulder, setting him upright on the ground. He pushed back his helmet and grinned at the immortal. “Oh, if only you were still writing, Will; think what a tale this would make.” He looked over at Josh. “That’s it. The last of the Gabriel Hounds are with us. Let’s fire the moat.”

  “Not yet. Let them get closer before we set it alight,” Josh said confidently. “That’ll hold them.” He stopped then and looked at Palamedes as doubts bubbled to the surface of his consciousness. “I mean … will it? Have you fought the Wild Hunt before?”

  The huge knight nodded. “I’ve fought them. I’ve yet to see a living creature that will willingly cross fire. And despite his appearance, Cernunnos is part beast.”

  “They’ll not cross it.” A red-faced Shakespeare turned to look at them. His glasses were crooked on his face. “I added a tincture or two to the oils. Some minerals, herbs and exotic spices that the Elders and Next Generation find repulsive for some reason. The moat is lined with mercury, and I’ve also mixed iron ore and various oxides throughout the liquid. Not even Cernunnos will be able to pass through the flames.”

  “The Archon is coming,” Sophie whispered, but no one heard her. She wrapped her arms tightly around her body to stop herself from shaking. The Witch of Endor had known Cernunnos; known him, feared him and hated him. The Witch had spent centuries searching for the remnants of Archon technology and had systematically destroyed them all, burning the metal books, melting down the artifacts, killing the storytellers who repeated the tales. She was trying to erase her memories of those who had ruled before the Elders. Now those memories threatened to overwhelm Sophie.

  A monstrous shape moved in the dusty swirling remnants of the Wild Hunt, and Cernunnos stepped out of the metal alleyway. The creature moved slowly, unhurriedly, its huge club resting lightly on its left shoulder. Tendrils of white fire crawled across its antlers, sparking from one to the other, bathing its beautiful statuelike face in soft light. Tilting its head to one side, it curled its lips in a smile and spread its arms wide. Its mouth worked, but the words that formed in its listeners’ heads were not in sync with its lips, and the sound was of a dozen voices talking together. The twins heard it speak in English with a precise Boston accent; in Flamel’s head it was the French of his youth; Palamedes heard the voice in the lilting desert tongue of Babylon; while to Shakespeare’s ears it spoke Elizabethan English. “I came to feast. I came for the twins. I even came here for a little amusement. I never realized I was coming to collect an old friend.” Cernunnos stretched out his right hand, and the stone blade in Josh’s grasp blazed red-black fire, dark cinders spiraling up into the night air. “You have something of mine, boy. Give me my sword.”

  Josh tightened his grip on the weapon. “It’s mine now.” The Horned God’s laugher was light, almost a giggle. “Yours! You have no idea what you’re holding.” Cernunnos strode forward, its huge goatlike hooves stamping into the mud. It stopped at the edge of the moat and its nostrils wrinkled, the first sign of an expression on its perfect face.

  “I know what this is,” Josh said. He took a step toward the Horned God. They were now separated by the six-foot-wide moat of thick black liquid. Josh was holding the sword in both hands, trying to keep it level and steady. The weapon was trembling, shivering in his grip. And then he realized that the vibration running up his arms into his shoulders was a regular pulse … like a heartbeat. As the delicious warmth flowed through his body and gathered in his chest and stomach, he felt strong and confident, afraid of nothing and no one. If Cernunnos attacked, Josh knew he’d be able to defeat him. “This is Clarent, the Sword of Fire,” he said, his voice echoing and ringing. “I saw what it did to the Nidhogg. I know what it can do to you.”

  “Threatened by a humani boy,” the Horned God said in wonder.

  Josh stepped right up to the edge of the moat and stared at the creature across the swirling liquid. Fragments of thoughts danced through his mind, images of the time Cernunnos had carried the sword.

  “There is a battle coming,” Josh said loudly. “And I think I’m going to need this sword.”

  Cernunnos smiled. “Remember, it is also called the Coward’s Blade,” it said, planting its massive club on the ground and then leaning on it, its huge horned head pushed forward, amber eyes staring hard at Josh. “It is a cursed weapon. All who carry it are cursed.”

  “You carried it.”

  “Exactly,” Cernunnos said. “And look at me. Once this world was mine to command; now I do another’s bidding. The blade will poison you, ultimately even destroy you.”

  “You could be lying to me,” Josh said simply, but somewhere at the back of his mind he knew the Archon was not lying.

  “Why would I lie to you?” Cernunnos sounded genuinely confused. “I am neither Elder nor Next Generation. I have no need to lie to humani.”

  Sophie stepped forward to stand just behind her twin. Behind his back, her thumb gently rested against the tattoo burned into her wrist. All she had to do would be to touch the red spot in the gold circle and it would bring her Fire magic to blazing life. The Horned God looked at her, eyes glowing as his pupils contracted to flat black lines. “We have met before,” he said, a note of wonder in his voice, looking from face to face.

  Shocked, the twins shook their heads.

  “We have,” the Horned God insisted.

  “I think we’d remember,” Sophie said.

  “You’re not exactly forgettable,” Josh added.

  “I know you,” Cernunnos said firmly. “But that’s a mystery we will solve later,” he added as Nicholas, followed by Palamedes and Shakespeare, hurried over to join the twins. The Horned God looked at each of them in turn, starting and finishing with the Alchemyst. Straightening, he heaved up his dinosaur club and pointed it at Flamel. “Dinner,” he said, and then the club moved to point to Palamedes. “Lunch.” The club moved back across the Alchemyst’s chest to point to Shakespeare. “A snack.”

  “I feel I should take insult,” the Bard muttered.

  The Horned God looked at him. “And your Gabriel Hounds will join with the Wild Hunt; the two ancient clans will be reunited.” He raised his club. There was movement in the gloom behind the Archon and suddenly the massed wolves surged forward, jaws gaping.

  Sophie closed her eyes, focused, pressed her thumb against the circular tattoo and created a tiny flaming ball in the palm of her hand. Digging her fingers into Josh’s shoulders, she pulled him away from the edge of the moat as she dropped the burning golden globe into the thick black liquid.

  It plopped onto the surface of the oil and floated for a second, then disappeared with a hiss of white steam.

  “Oh,” she whispered. She felt as if all the air had rushed out of her lungs, leaving her breathless and gasping. Although she had learned the Magic of Fire only the previous day, it had already become a part of her. She had fought the Disir and the gargoyles with it, but she realized she knew little about its properties. There was so much more she needed to know.

  The silent Wild Hunt raced toward the moat. Josh suddenly went to one knee and plunged Clarent into the thick liquid. It instantly exploded, roaring alight with a dull boom that sent sticky black flames shooting skyward. The force of the explosion sent both Josh and Sophie spinn
ing backward into the mud—and on the other side of the moat, the Wild Hunt tumbled over one another as they tried to get away from the flames. Some continued to slide forward on the wet ground, while others were pushed into the fire by the press of bodies from behind. They instantly disappeared into gritty black cinders.

  “You will pay for that!” Cernunnos stabbed at Josh with his club. “And you, boy … I will have my sword!”

  “Let me try this again.” Sophie flicked her fingers and sent a thick stream of yellow fire across the Horned God’s huge club, which began to blaze with the appalling stench of burning bone. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s rude to point?”

  erenelle Flamel stepped off the last rung of the rusting ladder and tilted back her head to look at the tiny circle of pale blue sky high above her. Then she frowned. What looked like a cloud was falling toward her, coming straight down the long shaft that connected the surface of Alcatraz to the old smugglers’ tunnel deep beneath the island. The cloud twisted and coiled in on itself, then solidified into Juan Manuel de Ayala.

  “Madame Perenelle?” the sailor asked in formal Spanish. “What are you doing down here?”

  “I’m not entirely sure,” Perenelle admitted. “I thought I might visit the Crow Goddess.” Yesterday—was it only yesterday?—Perenelle and Areop-Enap had defeated the Morrigan, the Crow Goddess, and her army of birds. The Old Spider had wanted to feed the Morrigan to some of its bird-eating spiders, but Perenelle had refused and instead had asked the Elder to carry the thread-bound creature to the lightless cell deep under the island.

  When Perenelle had originally freed Areop-Enap from the prison, she had dismantled an intricate pattern of spears set into the muddy floor outside the door. Each spearhead had been painted with an ancient Word of Power, which created a barrier unbreakable by any of the Elder race. When Areop-Enap had brought the tightly wrapped Morrigan into the cell, Perenelle had drawn upon her extraordinary memory to re-create the pattern of spears around the cave mouth. Then, using mud and shells, she had redrawn the complex patterns on the flat spearheads, locking the Morrigan behind Words of Power and symbols that predated the Elders. Only a human could free her; an Elder or Next Generation could not even approach the invisible and deadly spell spun by the primeval hex.

  “Madame,” de Ayala said urgently. “We need to get you off the island.”

  “I know,” Perenelle said, lips curling in disgust as her foot sank up to the ankle in stinking fishy mud. “I’m working on it. Did you see any Nereids?”

  “There were a dozen sunning themselves on the seaward rocks, and I saw another two around by the landing dock. I saw no sign of their father, Nereus, though I know he must be close by.” Wisps of the ghost streamed away as he wrapped his arms tightly around his body. “They cannot come ashore … but he can. And will.”

  Perenelle took a dozen squelching steps down the corridor. She glanced back at the ghost, surprised. “I did not know that.”

  “The Nereids have women’s bodies but the tails of fish. Nereus has legs of a sort. He sometimes comes ashore in lonely fishing villages to … to eat, or he’ll creep aboard a boat at night and snatch an unwary sailor.”

  Perenelle stopped and peered down the corridor. The far end of the tunnel sloped down into the sea, and she had a sudden image of the Old Man of the Sea crawling up the tunnel toward her. Shaking her head, dismissing the image, she snapped her fingers and created an inch-long candlelike white flame that floated just above the center of her forehead. Like the light on a miner’s helmet, it cast a yellow-white beam ahead of her. Perenelle turned back to de Ayala. “Will you stand watch for me, warn me if anyone, or anything, is coming?”

  “Of course.” The ghost folded in the middle, attempting to bow without legs. “But why are you here, madame? There is nothing down here but the Crow Goddess.”

  Perenelle’s smile lit up the gloom. “That’s who I’ve come to see.”

  “Have you come to gloat?” The Morrigan’s voice was a hoarse, almost masculine rasp.

  “No,” Perenelle said truthfully. Standing in the middle of the doorway, she crossed her arms over her chest and peered into the cell. “I’ve come down here to talk to you.”

  Areop-Enap had spun a beautiful circular orb web in the center of the underground cell. The threads were about the thickness of Perenelle’s little finger, and they shimmered liquid silver in the light from the tongue of fire bobbing above her head. Directly in the center of the web, arms outstretched, black-feathered cloak spread out around her, lay the Crow Goddess. It looked as if she were simply perching in midair and could swoop down at any moment.

  “You do not look well,” Perenelle said a moment later. In the soft light, Perenelle could see that the creature’s alabaster skin had taken on a greenish hue. Her black leather suit had dried and cracked in long splits that exposed the goddess’s pale skin. The silver studs set into her jerkin were stained and blackened, and the heavy leather belt around her waist was dripping with moisture, the round shields set into it tarnished the same green color as her face.

  The Morrigan smiled and licked her black lips with the tip of her tongue. “And you have aged in the hours since we last spoke. We will die together, you and I.”

  Perenelle moved her hand and the tongue of flame floated closer to the Morrigan. The Crow Goddess tried to twist her head to one side, but it was held fast by the sticky silver web. Reflections appeared in her jet-black eyes, giving them the appearance of having pupils. There was the hint of bone beneath the flesh of her face.

  “You look ill,” Perenelle said. “You might go before me.”

  “The Symbols of Binding are poisoning me,” the Morrigan snapped, “but no doubt you knew that.”

  Perenelle twisted to look at the curling square glyph she had painted onto the head of the nearest spear. “I did not. I know they kept Areop-Enap trapped in here, but she seemed otherwise unharmed.”

  “Areop-Enap is an Elder. I am Next Generation. How did you discover the Symbols?” the Morrigan asked, and gave a deep hacking cough. “Many of the Elders and most of the Next Generation believe that the Symbols of Binding and the Words of Power are nothing more than legend.”

  “I did not discover them. It was your friend Dee who used them to trap Areop-Enap in this same cell,” the Sorceress said.

  The Morrigan’s dark lips twisted in disgust. “Dee? Dee knew those ancient Words?” She fell silent and then slowly shook her head.

  “You do not believe me?” Perenelle asked.

  “Oh no, on the contrary. I do believe you. I think I know the English Magician better than anyone else alive, yet the more I discover, the less I realize I know. He never gave me any indication that he had this ancient knowledge,” she finished.

  “And now you’re wondering who taught him,” Perenelle said shrewdly. “Areop-Enap said that there was someone with Dee—an Elder, she thought, but so powerful that even the Old Spider could not see them. They must have been protected by an intricate spell of concealment. No doubt it was Dee’s masters.”

  “No one knows Dee’s Elder master.”

  Perenelle blinked in surprise. “Not even you?”

  The Morrigan’s long white teeth pressed against her black lips. “Not me. No one knows, and those who are curious—Elder, Next Generation or humani—disappear. It is one of the great secrets … though the bigger secret is why his masters continue to protect him and keep him alive, despite his many disasters. For centuries he has failed to capture you and your husband.” She coughed a quick gurgling laugh. “The Elders are neither kind nor generous, and certainly not forgiving. I’ve known humani to be reduced to dust for failing to bow deeply enough to them.”

  “Do you know what Dee intends to do with all the creatures on this island?”

  The Morrigan regarded her silently.

  Perenelle smiled. “Does it matter if I know … especially if we are both to die soon?”

  The Crow Goddess tried to nod, but her head was stuck
fast. “Dee was instructed to collect the creatures, but I am sure he does not know what the Elders intend to do with them.”

  “But you do,” Perenelle guessed.

  “I have seen something like this happen before, a long time ago even as you humani measure time. It is an army of sorts,” the Crow Goddess said tiredly. “When the time is right, it will be loosed upon the city.”

  Perenelle gasped. She had a sudden image of the skies above San Francisco filled with ravenous vampires, the sewers crawling with boggarts and trolls, peists in the bay, Windigo and cluricauns in the streets. “There would be carnage.”

  “That is the idea,” the Morrigan whispered. “How do you think the humani would react if they saw monsters of myth and legend in the streets and skies?”

  “With terror, disbelief.” Perenelle took a deep shuddering breath. “Civilization would fall.”

  “It has fallen before,” the Morrigan said dismissively.

  “And risen,” Perenelle said quickly.

  “It will not rise again. I have heard rumors that there are similar collections—armies, zoos, menageries, call them what you will—on every continent. I would imagine they will be loosed on the world on the same day. The humani armies will waste themselves and their weapons against the creatures … and then, when they are exhausted and weakened, those you call the Dark Elders will return to the earth.” The Crow Goddess laughed, then broke into a quick racking cough. “Well, that is the plan. Of course, this cannot happen if Dee does not get the last two pages of the Codex. Without the Final Summoning, the Shadowrealms cannot be drawn into alignment.” She coughed again. “I wonder what Dee’s master has in store for him if he fails? Something cruel, no doubt,” she added almost gleefully.

  “But I thought he was your friend?” Perenelle said, surprised again. “You’ve worked with him down through the centuries.”