06 The Enchantress

by Michael Scott

  Time slowed.

  Hel’s whip lashed out, but she was too far away and it missed.

  Machiavelli shouted and flung a wave of gray-white aura after the spearheads, but it stopped short.

  Nicholas Flamel roared, green light blazing from his hands, singeing the edges of the spears as they tumbled past.

  Juan Manuel de Ayala reached for them, but they cut through him in an explosion of water droplets.

  “No …” Billy the Kid staggered and would have fallen if Black Hawk had not caught him. “What have I done?” he gasped.

  Time stopped.

  And then a figure darted in front of the Sorceress, wrapping arms around her, enfolding her, protecting her.

  The spearheads sliced through the cloak of black feathers in an explosion of cold fire. The force of the blow pushed the Crow Goddess into Perenelle’s arms, knocking her off balance and toward Nicholas. The Alchemyst grabbed both women, keeping them upright.

  The Sorceress looked into the Crow Goddess’s red and yellow eyes. “Why?” she whispered. She wrapped her arms around the creature, holding her tight, feeling her start to shake. “Why?”

  The Crow Goddess rested her chin on Perenelle’s shoulder. “You freed us,” she whispered, teeth chattering. “You released us from an eternity of suffering. In all the years of our long lives, that was the only kindness ever shown to us by a human. That is a gift worth repaying.”

  “You saved me,” Perenelle said, voice thick with emotion. “You didn’t have to.”

  “Yes, we did. It was the right thing to do.”

  “And you have always done the right thing,” Perenelle realized with a start.

  “We have … though the Morrigan, not so much.” The Elder’s voice grew weaker as she spoke. “Now, Sorceress, you have work to do. Do not let our sacrifice be in vain.”

  The Sorceress stroked the creature’s short hair. “If we succeed here tonight, it will be because of you.”

  The Crow Goddess was shaking so violently now that Perenelle could barely hold her. The Elder’s voice was changing, flickering between Macha’s and the Badb’s. “And do not think too badly of our younger sister. She was led astray.” She suddenly lifted her chin and looked into Perenelle’s eyes and the Sorceress saw that the once red and yellow eyes had turned solid black. The Morrigan had awakened. Her mouth opened, savage teeth inches from Perenelle’s throat.

  Every instinct in the Sorceress told her to pull away, but she continued to hold the shivering creature.

  And then the Morrigan’s mouth closed and her black eyes softened. “I hated you for what you did to me,” she breathed, “but no more. Thank you, Sorceress, for reuniting me with my sisters.” Her eyes started to flicker, black and red and yellow, but the colors were fading.

  “I will remember you,” Perenelle promised. “All three of you: Macha, the Morrigan and the Badb.”

  And then the Crow Goddess crumpled to black dust in the Sorceress’s arms. The only sound in the night was the noise of the metal spearheads clanging onto the stones.

  Perenelle Flamel took Billy the Kid by the hands and pulled him up off the ground. The young immortal was shaking and his face was damp. She ran her palms across his cheeks, leaving black streaks of what was left of the Crow Goddess on his white flesh, then caught his chin in one hand and used the edge of her shirt to wipe his cheeks. “Billy, do not reproach yourself. You did nothing wrong.”

  “I could have killed you.”

  “But you did not.”

  “But I killed the Morrigan….”

  “That was not just the Morrigan. That was Macha and the Badb, her sisters. They sacrificed themselves willingly. And at the end, the Morrigan awoke: I do not think she was unhappy. They died together, as one.”

  “I reacted,” he whispered.

  Perenelle’s fingers tightened on his chin, forcing him to look up. “We will grieve for the Crow Goddess later. Now we should honor her memory and destroy the monsters on the island.” She pressed the two spearheads back into his hand. “You’re going to need these. Come now, let us awaken Areop-Enap.”

  Billy’s hand shot out and he grabbed the Sorceress’s arm. Wisps of his reddish aura coiled around his fingertips. “I swear I will protect you for all the days of your life,” he said sincerely.

  “Thank you, Billy,” she said. “But my life is now measured in hours, not days.”

  “I’ll still look after you,” he said quickly

  Perenelle Flamel smiled. “I know you will.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  “It shouldn’t be on fire, should it?” William Shakespeare asked, leaning away from the curl of smoke leaking from the control panel.

  “No, it should not.” Prometheus grunted. “So why don’t you do something useful and put it out?”

  “How?” Shakespeare demanded. He started patting his body. “Do I look like I carry a fire extinguisher with me?”

  Palamedes leaned between the Elder and the immortal to rip away a smoking panel, and a tongue of fire shot out, singeing off his eyebrows. “Glad I’ve got no hair,” he said lightly. The flames died down and he peered inside as best he could. “It’s a mess,” he announced. The air filled with the scent of cloves, and a cloud of olive green dripped from his hand and washed over the fire, extinguishing it.

  The vimana’s humming engine slowed to a whine.

  Shakespeare looked up in alarm, and even Saint-Germain raised his head from his book.

  “We’re fine,” Prometheus said as the engine resumed its high-pitched buzzing. “Some of these early vimanas can repair themselves.”

  Joan peered through the empty porthole. The city was much closer now, a brown smear of slums and narrow streets giving way to broad avenues and golden terraces, the sparkling circles of canals and the spectacular profusion of assorted buildings. Directly ahead, rising like a solid gold mountain at the precise center of the vast city, was the Pyramid of the Sun. “Where will we land?” she asked.

  “I’m going to bring us down on the square, as close to the pyramid as possible,” Prometheus answered. “We need to take up positions on the pyramid to defend the steps.”

  Palamedes joined Joan by the window. “Lot of activity down there,” he murmured. “Lots of armor and weapons. We’ll be dropping right into a war zone.”

  Joan nodded. “Prometheus, what about landing on top of the pyramid?” she suggested. “It’s flat.”

  Palamedes’s teeth flashed in a white grin. “It’s also very sneaky. I like it.”

  “Can you do it?” Joan asked.

  “I’ll try.”

  “What about defenses?” Will asked.

  “There will be a handful of vimanas. Whatever survived the attack on the Tor Ri,” Palamedes said, “and some of the wealthier or older Elders will have their personal vimanas, but they’re not armed. Most of Huitzilopochtli’s fliers are going to try to land in the square before the pyramid. If they can defeat the anpu guards, that will open up the bridges and allow the rest of the people to swarm across the canals. A few of our vimanas and fliers will land on the opposite side of the canals to support the population and engage any anpu there.”

  “And what about Aten?” Palamedes asked. “Why aren’t we attacking the prison and freeing him?”

  Prometheus shook his head. “Marethyu was very clear about that. He said that the prison could only be attacked by the people of Danu Talis. It had to be their victory or their defeat.”

  “I know what he means,” Joan said. “If they can take the prison, it will show the rest of the population what they can achieve. A victory like that will ignite the entire city.”

  A series of scattered sparks danced across the control panel. Shakespeare rubbed them out with his sleeve. “How soon before we land?”

  “Soon,” Palamedes said. There was a crack and suddenly a rectangular panel fell out of the floor, allowing them to see into the outskirts of the city below. Bitter air whipped into the cabin.

  “Not soon
enough,” Shakespeare said, just loud enough for everyone to hear.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  Josh rotated his wrists and the edges of Excalibur and Clarent keened as they moved through the air.

  “There is an easier way.” Sophie’s hand opened and closed and a ball of silver fire bloomed in her palm. “You really don’t have any idea who we are,” she said to the bear-headed men.

  The silver ball sizzled, then fizzed and shrank before popping like a burst balloon.

  “And you have no idea where you are,” the huge berserker said, grunting the words with effort. He pointed to the ceiling with the blade of his battle-ax. It was glowing a little brighter than before. “No aura power in the pyramid. The walls drink it.”

  “How good are you with those?” Sophie asked Josh, nodding to the swords.

  “Not great,” he confessed. “Usually, Clarent does all the work for me.” He shook the sword in his left hand, but nothing happened.

  “Whatever is absorbing our auric power must be draining the swords, too,” she said. Sophie pulled her two swords free. She was carrying Durendal, the Sword of Air and Joyeuse, the Sword of Earth. They just felt like heavy lumps of stone in her hands.

  “Pretty toys,” the berserker said. “Four swords. Three of us. I will take two. My brothers will have one apiece.” He pointed to Josh with the black glass knife. “I will take yours.”

  The big berserker standing immediately to the warrior’s left suddenly punched him in the shoulder. “I want that one.” He pointed to Clarent.

  A dozen strategies flickered through Josh’s head and he knew he was accessing some of the knowledge Mars Ultor had filled him with. He risked a quick glance at his sister. “We need to play for time,” he whispered. “Isis and Osiris have to be back soon.” Then, loudly, he announced, “Clarent is a sword fit only for a leader. So, really, whoever’s the leader among you should have it.”

  “That’s me,” all three said simultaneously.

  Josh stepped backward and the three berserkers automatically moved forward. “If I could lure them farther down the room, do you think you’d be able to get past them to the door and open it?” he wondered.

  “Not a chance,” Sophie said.

  “Try it anyway.”

  “Give me the sword,” the biggest of the three berserkers said.

  Josh looked at the other two. “Should I?”

  “No,” they both grunted.

  He looked back to the biggest warrior and shrugged. “Sorry. They said no.”

  The three bear warriors started arguing amongst themselves in savage growling voices.

  “If they attack, do we split up or stay together?” Sophie asked.

  “Split up,” Josh said immediately. “We’ll race halfway down the room, then I’ll turn and engage them. You double back and get to the door as fast as you can. If you can get out into the corridor and raise the alarm, we’ll be fine.”

  “We’ve decided,” the biggest berserker announced. “We’re going to kill you both and take the swords. We’ll draw lots for them later.”

  “I bet you’re hoping to win this one,” Josh said, holding up Clarent casually. He looked at the other two bears. “You know that if he does win it, then he’s been cheating.”

  The largest bear growled, the sound echoing around the empty room. “I’ve never cheated in my life. That is an insult to my good name.”

  “Do berserkers have good names?” Sophie asked.

  The creature’s jaws opened, showing his massive teeth. “Bad names are better.”

  “Before you kill us,” Josh said, “who sent you here? I think we have a right to know who ordered our deaths.”

  The three berserkers looked at one another and then nodded. “Anubis,” one grunted. “Jackal-headed Elder. Ugly,” he added. “Real ugly.”

  “Though not as ugly as his mother,” another said.

  The berserkers nodded in agreement. “Very ugly. She probably put him up to it,” the biggest warrior said, his eyes narrowing on the twins. “Now, enough chitchat!” With that he launched himself forward, knife and ax whirling in a deadly blur before him.

  Josh shouted in alarm and brought both swords up in an X in front of his face. More by accident than design, he caught the descending ax. It screamed off the swords in a shower of sparks. But the berserker ducked and with his left hand plunged his knife straight toward Josh’s chest.

  Sophie screamed.

  And the obsidian knife crumbled to dust on contact with the ceramic armor.

  Josh lashed out with Clarent. It scored a shallow scrape across the berserker’s torso, and instantly the sword pulsed. Josh felt it with his entire body—a single heartbeat—and in that moment he knew that if he could feed it blood, the blade would know what to do.

  The other two berserkers circled Sophie.

  Drawing a deep breath into her lungs, she screamed.

  The sound ricocheted across the walls, echoing along the chamber, and both berserkers staggered back, shocked by the noise. She darted between the two creatures, left and right swords lashing out. She missed one of her attackers but caught the other on his meaty rump and he bellowed, a mixture of surprise and pain.

  Josh attacked the creature standing before him, blindly hacking and slashing with both swords. Sweat was already pouring down his back, and his shoulders were starting to ache. Surprised, the berserker backed away, leaving Josh to join his sister.

  “Not so tough now,” Josh panted.

  “You were lucky,” the bear grunted.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Your chest is pretty cut up, and your friend there won’t be sitting down for a week. We’re unscathed.”

  “Un-skat-ed?” the bear asked, shooting a confused look at his companions. “What’s skating got to do with it?” The two berserkers shook their heads.

  “Unharmed,” Josh explained.

  The three berserkers spread out. “We were going to kill you quickly,” one said. “But not now. Now you will have to—” He stopped.

  Sophie and Josh looked at one another. “Have to?” Sophie prompted.

  “What will we have to do?” Josh asked, and then he realized that the three berserkers were no longer looking at the twins, but behind them.

  Sophie and Josh turned together.

  A woman stood in the center of the room on the circle of gold and silver sun and moon tiles. Slender, in white ceramic armor, she held the metal-bound Codex in her left hand and a golden kopesh in her right. She raised her head and looked at the children with slate-gray eyes, and they both experienced the same shock of recognition. She was somehow familiar.

  The woman walked out of the circle and handed Josh the Codex. “A gift from Abraham the Mage,” she said. “You have the pages needed to complete it, I believe.” Then she slipped the second kopesh from its sheath and faced the three berserkers. The beast-men were suddenly looking unsure.

  “Which of you wants to die first?” she asked. “You?” She pointed to the biggest berserker. “Or you?… Or you?”

  “Our quarrel is not with you. We were sent to kill the humani.”

  “Then your quarrel is with me,” she answered. “They are in my charge. I watch over them.”

  “Who are you?” Josh and the berserker asked simultaneously.

  “I am She Who Watches. I am Tsagaglalal….”

  And even as she was speaking, Sophie realized who she was. “Aunt Agnes,” she breathed.

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  The Council Chamber at the heart of the Pyramid of the Sun took up the entire 314th floor, at the precise midpoint of the building. Rows of tiered seats were arranged in squares and dropped down to a circle at the heart of the room. The chamber was acoustically perfect: conversations on the opposite side of the room, even at its farthest point, more than one thousand feet away, were clearly audible, as if they were taking place at one’s side.

  The room, like the rest of the pyramid, also absorbed all auric energies.

  When the Great E
lders had created the even larger original Pyramid of the Sun, they had recognized that they needed a secure environment in which to conduct their business. One where no Elder could influence another by force of aura. A combination of mathematics and crystal with sheets of gold and silver lining the walls swallowed any auras. Any energies that leaked from this unique security system were channeled into lighting the vast rooms. Within the Pyramid of the Sun, all the immensely powerful Great Elders and the Elders who came after them were equals.

  And most of the modern Elders who ruled over the island empire hated the pyramid for exactly that reason.

  “Look at them,” Bastet hissed.

  “Who?” Anubis asked, searching the room to see where his mother’s gaze had fallen.

  “Isis and Osiris—who else!”

  Bastet and Anubis were standing in one of the highest tiers of the chamber. As prominent Elders, they were always positioned in the front row in the square of gilded seats before the circle. But Bastet had insisted that they hang back so they could look down over the huge crowd now filing in.

  Most of the figures were still vaguely human, but the rest had grown hideous as age and the cumulative use of their auras had damaged them. Furry animal heads and limbs were commonplace; some figures had wings. Others had begun to warp into creatures of stone or wood, while a few had become tentacled monstrosities.

  “Only a handful have not turned up,” Anubis noted. “I don’t see Chronos.”

  “Good.”

  “Black Annis is missing.”

  “Pity, she is a good ally,” Bastet said absently, leaning forward to follow Isis and Osiris’s progress through the crowd. They were easy to track—they stood out, dressed in white ceremonial armor. She watched them nodding and smiling. “They will do nothing at this time. They’ve created this excitement and will promise to reveal all very soon.”

  “How do you know?” Anubis asked his mother.

  “It’s what I would do.” She glanced quickly at her son. “The children: are they dead?”