Nicholas Flamel 2 - The Magician sotinf-2

by Michael Scott

  never saw this .

  No, it has nothing to do with the Witch, Sophie smiled. She leaned across

  the table, her head brushing her brother s. She pointed to the top right-hand

  corner of the parchment, where a tiny, barely visible cross was etched in red

  ink. This definitely looks like an N, she said, pointing to the top of the

  cross, and this is an S.

  North and south. Josh nodded in quick agreement. Genius, Soph! He looked

  at Nicholas. It s a map.

  The Alchemyst nodded. Very good. It s a map of all the ley lines in Europe.

  Towns and cities, even borders might change beyond all recognition, but the

  ley lines remain the same. He held up the square. This is our passport out

  of Europe and back to America.

  Let s hope we get a chance to use it, Scatty muttered.

  Josh touched the edge of the newspaper-wrapped bundle that sat in the center

  of the table. And what s this?

  Nicholas furled the parchment back into the tube and slipped it into his

  jacket pocket. Then he began to unwrap layers of newspaper from the object on

  the table. Perenelle and I were in Spain close to the end of the fourteenth

  century when the one-handed man revealed the first secret of the Codex, he

  said, speaking to no one in particular, his French accent now pronounced.

  The first secret? Josh asked.

  you've seen the text it changes but it changes in a strict mathematical

  sequence. It s not random. The changes are linked to the movements of the

  stars and planets, the phases of the moon.

  Like a calendar? Josh said.

  Flamel nodded. Just like a calendar. Once we had learned that code sequence,

  we knew we could finally return to Paris. It would take us a lifetime several

  lifetimes to translate the book, but at least we had learned where to start.

  So I changed some stones into diamonds, and some flat pieces of shale into

  gold, and we started out on the long journey back to Paris. By then, of

  course, we had come to the attention of the Dark Elders, and Bacon, Dee s

  foul predecessor, was closing in. Rather than take a direct route into

  France, we kept to the back roads and avoided the usual passes across the

  mountains, which we knew would be watched. However, winter arrived early that

  year I believe the Dark Elders had something to do with it and we found

  ourselves cut off in Andorra. And that is where I found this . He touched

  the object on the table.

  Josh looked at his sister, eyebrows raised in a silent question. Andorra? he

  mouthed; she was much better at geography than he was.

  One of the smallest countries in the world, she explained in a whisper, in

  the Pyrenees between Spain and France.

  Flamel unwrapped more paper. Before I died, I hid this object deep within

  the stone over the lintel of the house on the Rue de Montmorency. I never

  thought I would need it again.

  Within? Josh asked, confused. Did you say you hid it within?

  Within. I changed the molecular structure of the granite, pushed this into

  the block of stone and then returned the lintel to its original solid state.

  Simple transmutation: like pushing a nut into a tub of ice cream. The final

  sheet of newspaper tore as he pulled it away.

  It s a sword, Josh whispered in awe, looking at the short narrow weapon

  nestled on the paper-strewn table. He guessed it was about twenty inches

  long, its simple cross hilt wrapped in strips of stained dark leather. The

  blade seemed to be made of a sparkling gray metal. No, not metal. A stone

  sword, he said aloud, frowning. It reminded him of something almost as if he

  had seen it before.

  But even as he was speaking, Joan and Saint-Germain scrambled away from the

  table, the woman s chair falling over in her eagerness to get away from the

  blade. Behind Flamel, Scathach hissed like a cat, vampire teeth appearing as

  she opened her mouth, and when she spoke, her voice was shaking, her accent

  thick and barbaric. She sounded almost angry or afraid. Nicholas, she said

  very slowly, what are you doing with that filthy thing?

  The Alchemyst ignored her. He looked at Josh and Sophie, who had remained

  sitting at the table, shocked motionless by the reaction of the others,

  unsure what was happening. There are four great swords of power, Flamel

  said urgently, each one linked to the elements: Earth, Air, Fire and Water.

  It is said that they predate even the oldest of the Elder Races. The swords

  have had many names through the ages: Excalibur and Joyeuse, Mistelteinn and

  Curtana, Durendal and Tyrfing. The last time one was used as a weapon in the

  world of men was when Charlemagne, the Holy Roman Emperor, carried Joyeuse

  into battle.

  This is Joyeuse? Josh whispered. His sister might be good at geography, but

  he knew history, and Charlemagne had always fascinated him.

  Scathach s laugh was a bitter snarl. Joyeuse is a thing of beauty. This this

  is an abomination.

  Flamel touched the sword s hilt and the tiny crystals in the stone sparkled

  with green light. This is not Joyeuse, though it is true that it once

  belonged to Charlemagne. I also believe the emperor himself hid this blade in

  Andorra sometime in the ninth century.

  It s just like Excalibur, Josh said, suddenly realizing why the stone sword

  was so familiar. He looked at his sister. Dee had Excalibur; he used it to

  destroy the World Tree.

  Excalibur is the Sword of Ice, Flamel continued. This is its twin blade:

  Clarent, the Sword of Fire. It is the only weapon that can stand against

  Excalibur.

  It is a cursed blade, Scathach said firmly. I ll not touch it.

  Nor I, Joan said quickly, and Saint-Germain nodded in agreement.

  I m not asking any of you to carry it or wield it, Nicholas snapped. He

  spun the weapon on the table until the hilt touched the boy s fingers and

  then he looked at each of them in turn. We know Dee and Machiavelli are

  coming. Josh is the only one amongst us without the ability to protect

  himself. Until his powers are Awakened, he is going to need a weapon. I want

  him to have Clarent.

  Nicholas! Scathach cried, horrified. What are you thinking. He s an

  untrained humani

  with a solid gold aura, Flamel said coldly. And I am determined to keep

  him safe. He pushed the sword into Josh s fingers. This is yours. Take it.

  Josh leaned forward and felt the two pages from the Codex press against his

  skin in their cloth bag. This would be the second gift the Alchemyst had

  given him in as many days. Part of him wanted to accept the gifts at face

  value to trust him and to believe that Flamel liked him and trusted him in

  turn. And yet, and yet even after the conversation they d had in the street,

  somewhere at the back of his mind, Josh couldn't forget what Dee had said by

  the fountain in Ojai: that half of everything Flamel said was a lie, and the

  other half wasn't entirely truthful either. He deliberately looked away from

  the sword and looked into Flamel s pale eyes. The Alchemyst was staring at

  him, his face an expressionless mask. So what was the Alchemyst up to? Josh

  wondered. What game was he playing? More of Dee s words popped into his head.

  He
is now, and has always been, a liar, a charlatan, and a crook.

  Don't you want it? Nicholas asked. Take it. He pushed the hilt right into

  Josh s grip.

  Almost against his will, Josh s fingers closed over the smooth

  leather-wrapped hilt of the stone sword. He lifted it though it was short, it

  was surprisingly heavy and turned it over in his hands. I ve never handled a

  sword in my life, he said. I don't know how .

  Scathach will show you the basics, Flamel said, not looking at the Shadow,

  but turning the simple statement into a command. How to carry it, simple

  thrust and parry. Try and avoid stabbing yourself with it, he added.

  Josh suddenly realized that he was grinning widely and tried to wipe away the

  smile, but it was difficult: the sword felt amazing in his hand. He moved his

  wrist and the sword twitched. Then he looked at Scatty, Francis and Joan and

  saw how their eyes were fixed on the blade, following its every movement, and

  his smile faded. What s wrong with the sword? he demanded. Why are you so

  scared of it?

  Sophie put her hand on her brother s arm, her eyes sparkling silver with the

  Witch s knowledge. Clarent, she said, is an evil, accursed weapon,

  sometimes called the Coward s Blade. This is the sword Mordred used to kill

  his uncle, King Arthur.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  I n her bedroom at the top of the house, Sophie sat on the deep window ledge

  and looked down over the Champs-Elys es. The broad tree-lined street was wet

  with rain and shone amber, red and white in the reflected lights of the cars

  and buses. She checked her watch: it was almost two a.m. on Sunday morning,

  yet traffic was still heavy. Anytime after midnight, the streets of San

  Francisco would be deserted.

  The difference emphasized just how far from home she was.

  When she d been younger, she d gone through a phase when she d decided that

  everything about herself was boring. She d made a conscious effort to be more

  stylish more like her friend Elle, who changed her hair color on a weekly

  basis and had a wardrobe that was always filled with the latest styles.

  Sophie had collected everything she could find about the exotic European

  cities she read about in magazines, places where fashion and art were

  created: London and Paris, Rome, Milan, Berlin. She was determined that she

  wasn't going to follow fashion; she was going to create her own. The phase

  had lasted about a month. Fashion was an expensive business, and the

  allowance she and her brother got from their parents was strictly limited.

  She still wanted to visit the great cities of the world, though. She and Josh

  had even started talking about taking a year off before college to go

  backpacking around Europe. And now here they were in one of the most

  beautiful cities on earth, and she had absolutely no interest in exploring

  it. The only thing she wanted to do right now was return to San Francisco.

  But what would she return to?

  The thought stopped her cold.

  Though the family had moved around a lot, and traveled even more, two days

  ago, she d known what to expect in the coming months. The rest of the year

  was mapped out in boring detail. In the fall, their parents would resume

  their teaching positions at the University of San Francisco, and both she and

  Josh would return to school. In December, the family would take their annual

  trip to Providence, Rhode Island, where their father had given the Christmas

  lecture at Brown University for the past two decades. On the twenty-first of

  December, their birthday, the twins would be taken to New York City to see

  the shops, admire the lights, look at the tree in Rockefeller Center and then

  go skating. They would get lunch in the Stage Door Deli: have matzo ball soup

  and sandwiches as big as their heads and one slice of pumpkin pie between

  them. On Christmas Eve, they would head out to their aunt Christine s house

  in Montauk on Long Island, where they d spend the holiday and then see in the

  New Year. That had been the tradition for the past ten years.

  And now?

  Sophie took a deep breath. Now she possessed powers and abilities she could

  barely comprehend. She had access to memories that were a mixture of truth,

  myth and fantasy; she knew secrets that could rewrite history books. But she

  wished, more than anything else, that there were some way she could turn back

  time, to return to Thursday morning before all this had happened. Before the

  world had changed.

  Sophie rested her forehead against the cool glass. What was going to happen?

  What was she going to do not just now, but in the years to come? Her brother

  had no career in mind; every year he announced something different he was

  going to be a computer game designer or a programmer, a professional football

  player, a paramedic or a fireman but she d always known what she was going to

  do. From the time her first-grade teacher had asked her the question What do

  you want to be when you grow up, Sophie? she d known the answer. She wanted

  to study archaeology and paleontology like her parents, to travel the world

  and catalog the past, maybe make some discoveries that would help put history

  in order. But that was never going to happen now. Overnight, she d realized

  that the study of archaeology, history, geography and science had been

  rendered useless or if not useless, then simply wrong.

  A sudden wash of emotion caught her by surprise, and she felt a burning at

  the back of her throat and tears on her cheeks. She pressed the palms of both

  hands against her face and brushed the tears away.

  Knock-knock Josh s voice startled her. Sophie turned to look at her twin.

  Her brother was standing at the door, the stone sword in one hand, a tiny

  laptop in the other. Can I come in?

  you've never asked before. She smiled.

  Josh stepped into the room and sat down on the edge of the double bed. He

  carefully placed Clarent on the floor by his feet and rested the laptop on

  his knees. A lot s changed, he said quietly, his blue eyes troubled.

  I was just thinking the same thing, she agreed. At least that hasn t

  changed. The twins often found they were thinking the same thought at the

  same moment, and they knew one another so well that they could even finish

  each other s sentences. I was just wishing we could go back in time, to

  before all this happened.

  Why?

  So I wouldn't have to be like this so we wouldn't be different.

  Josh looked into his sister s face and tilted his head slightly. You d give

  it up? he asked very softly. The power, the knowledge?

  In a heartbeat, she said immediately. I don't like what s happening to me.

  I never wanted it to happen. Her voice cracked, but she continued. I want

  to be ordinary, Josh. I want to be human again. I want to be like you.

  Josh looked down. He opened the laptop and concentrated on powering it up.

  But you don't, do you? she said slowly, interpreting the long silence that

  followed. You want the power, you want to be able to shape your aura and

  control the elements, don't you?

  Josh hesitated. It would be interesting, I think, he said eventually,

  staring at the
screen. Then he looked up, his eyes bright with the reflected

  image of the log-on screen. Yes, I want to be able to do it, he admitted.

  Sophie opened her mouth to snap a response, to tell him that he didn't know

  what he was talking about, to tell him just how sick it made her feel, how

  scared she was. But she stopped herself; she didn't want to fight, and until

  Josh had experienced it for himself, he would never understand.

  Where did you get the computer? she asked, changing the subject when the

  laptop finally blipped.

  Francis gave it to me, Josh said. You were out of it when Dee destroyed

  Yggdrasill. He stabbed the tree with Excalibur and it turned to ice and then

  shattered like glass. Well, my wallet, cell phone, iPod and laptop were in

  the tree, he said ruefully. I lost everything. Including all our photos.

  And the count just gave you a laptop?

  Josh nodded. Gave it to me, insisted I have it. Must be my day for

  presents. The pale glow from the computer screen lit his face from below,

  giving his head a vaguely frightening appearance. He s switched over to

  Macs; they ve got better music software, apparently, and he s not using PCs

  anymore. He found this one dumped under a table upstairs, he continued, eyes

  still locked on the small screen. He glanced quickly at his sister. It s

  true, he said, recognizing her silence as doubt.

  Sophie looked away. She knew her brother was telling the truth, and that had

  nothing to do with the Witch s knowledge. She d always known when Josh was

  lying to her, though, strangely, he never knew when she was lying to

  him which she didn't do too often anyway, and only ever for his own good. So

  what are you doing now? she asked.

  Checking my e-mail. He grinned. Life goes on , he began.

  e-mail stops for no man, Sophie finished with a smile. It was one of

  Josh s favorite sayings, and it usually drove her crazy.

  There s loads, he muttered. Eighty on Gmail, sixty-two on Yahoo, twenty on

  AOL, three on FastMail

  I ll never understand why you need so many e-mail accounts, Sophie said.

  She drew her legs up to her chest, wrapped her arms around her shins and

  rested her chin on her knees. It felt good to be having an ordinary

  conversation with her brother; it reminded her of how things were supposed to

  be and had been until Thursday afternoon at two-fifteen precisely. She