Nicholas Flamel 2 - The Magician sotinf-2

by Michael Scott

  granddaughter, Scathach, be brought back to fight the Disir.

  It was the Shadow who had led the attack on the Disir stronghold, a city of

  solid ice close to the top of the world. She had slain the Valkyrie queen,

  Brynhildr, casting her into the heart of a flaming volcano.

  By the time the sun had risen low over the horizon, the power of the

  Valkyries had been broken forever, their frozen city had lain in melted

  ruins, and less than a handful had survived. They fled into a terrifying icy

  Shadowrealm that even Scathach would not venture into. The surviving Disir

  called that night Ragnar k, the Doom of the Gods, and swore eternal vengeance

  on the Shadow.

  Sophie brought her hands together and a miniature whirlwind appeared in her

  palms. Fire and ice had destroyed the Disir in the past. What would happen if

  she used a little Fire magic to heat up the wind? Even as the thought crossed

  Sophie s mind, the Disir leapt forward, her sword raised high over her head

  in a two-handed grip. Dee wants you alive, but he didn't say unharmed , she

  snarled.

  Sophie brought her hands to her mouth, pressed the thumb of her left had

  against the trigger on her wrist and blew hard. The whirlwind spiraled onto

  the floor and grew. It bounced once, twice then hit the Disir.

  Sophie had superheated the air until it was hotter than a furnace. The

  blistering whirlwind grabbed the Valkyrie, spun her around, rolled her over

  and tossed her high into the air. She crashed into the crystal chandelier,

  smashing all the bulbs save one. In the sudden gloom, the whirlwind dancing

  across the floor glowed with shimmering orange heat. The Valkyrie crashed to

  the ground but was immediately on her feet, even as shards of crystal crashed

  about her like glass rain. Her pale skin was bright red and looked badly

  sunburned, her blond eyebrows completely singed off. Without a word, she

  slashed out with her sword, the heavy blade cutting right through the

  banister rail at Sophie s hand.

  Scatty!

  Sophie heard her brother s voice calling from the kitchen. He was in trouble!

  Scatty! she heard him call again.

  The Valkyrie surged forward. Another superheated whirlwind caught her,

  ripping the sword from her hand and spinning her away, sending her tumbling

  into her sister, who had trapped Joan in a corner and battered her to her

  knees with a ferocious onslaught. The two Disir crashed to the floor in a

  clatter of weapons and armor.

  Joan get back! Sophie shouted.

  Fog flowed from the girl s fingers and curled across the floor; thick ribbons

  and ropes of smoky air wrapped around the women, swathing them in chains of

  scalding hot air. It took an enormous effort of will, but Sophie managed to

  thicken the fog, spinning it faster and faster around the struggling Disir

  until they were shrouded in a thick mummylike cocoon, similar to the one the

  Witch had enfolded her in.

  Sophie could feel herself weakening, leaden exhaustion making her eyes gritty

  and her shoulders heavy. Drawing upon the remnants of her power, she clapped

  her hands and lowered the temperature of the air in the foggy cocoon so

  quickly that it flash-froze into a crackling lump of solid ice.

  There. You should feel right at home, Sophie whispered hoarsely. She

  slumped, then forced herself to her feet and was about to dart into the

  kitchen when Joan stretched out her arm, stopping her. Oh no you don't. Me

  first. The woman took a step toward the kitchen door, then glanced over her

  shoulder to the block of ice, with the two Disir partially visible within.

  You saved my life, she said softly.

  You would have beaten her, Sophie said confidently.

  Maybe, Joan conceded, and maybe not. I m not as young as I once was. But

  you still saved my life, she repeated, and that s a debt I ll never

  forget. Stretching out her left hand, she placed it flat against the kitchen

  door and applied a gentle pressure. The door clicked open.

  And then fell off its hinges.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  T he Comte de Saint-Germain strolled downstairs from his studio, tiny

  noise-canceling earphones pushed into his ears, eyes fixed on the screen of

  the MP3 player in his hands. He was trying to create a new playlist: his top

  ten favorite sound tracks. Gladiator, naturally The Rock Star Wars, the first

  one only El Cid, of course The Crow, maybe

  He stopped at the bottom step and automatically straightened a picture that

  was hanging crooked on the wall. He took another step and realized that a

  framed gold disc was also slightly askew. Looking down the corridor, he

  suddenly noticed that all the pictures were at odd angles. Frowning, he

  pulled out his earphones

  And heard Josh call Scatty s name

  And heard the clatter of metal

  And realized that the air stank of vanilla and lavender

  Saint-Germain raced down the stairs to the next floor. He found the Alchemyst

  slumped, exhausted, in the door to his room, and slowed, but Nicholas waved

  him on. Quickly, he whispered. Saint-Germain darted past him and continued

  down the corridor and on to the stairs .

  The hallway was in ruins.

  The remnants of the hall door hung off its hinges. All that remained of the

  antique crystal chandelier was a single buzzing lightbulb. Wallpaper hung in

  huge curling strips, revealing the cracked plaster beneath. Banisters were

  chopped through, tiles scored and chipped.

  And there was a solid lump of ice sitting squarely in the center of the hall.

  Saint-Germain approached it cautiously and ran his fingers down the smooth

  surface. It was so cold his flesh stuck to it. He could make out two

  white-clad figures entwined within the block, faces frozen in ugly snarls;

  their startling blue eyes followed him.

  Wood snapped in the kitchen and he turned and darted toward it, gloves of

  solid blue-white flame growing on his hands.

  And if Saint-Germain thought that the damage to the hallway was bad, nothing

  prepared him for the devastation in the kitchen.

  The entire side of the house was missing.

  Sophie and Joan stood in the midst of the ruin. His wife was holding the

  shaking girl tightly, supporting her. Joan was wearing shiny blue-green satin

  pajamas and was still holding her sword in a metal gauntlet. She turned to

  look over her shoulder as her husband stepped into the room. You missed the

  fun, she said in French.

  I heard nothing, he apologized, in the same language. Tell me.

  It was all over in minutes. Sophie and I heard a disturbance at the back of

  the house. We ran downstairs just as two women smashed their way in through

  the hall door. They were Disir, they said they had come for Scathach. One

  attacked me, the other turned her attention to Sophie. Even though she was

  speaking an obscure variant of the French language, she dropped her voice to

  a whisper. Francis this girl. She is extraordinary. She combined the magics:

  she used Fire and Air to defeat the Disir. Then she wrapped them in fog and

  froze it to a lump of ice.

  Saint-Germain shook his head. It is physically impossible to use more than

  one magi
c at a time , he said, but his voice trailed away to a whisper. The

  evidence of Sophie s powers sat in the center of the hallway. There was a

  legend that the most powerful Elders were able to use all the elemental

  magics simultaneously. According to the most ancient myths, this was the

  reason one of the reasons that Danu Talis sank.

  Josh is gone. Sophie suddenly shook herself free of Joan s grip and spun

  around to face the count. Then she looked over his shoulder to where an

  ashen-faced Flamel stood leaning in the doorway. Something s taken Josh,

  she said, desperately frightened now. And Scatty s gone after him.

  The Alchemyst shuffled into the center of the room, wrapped his hands around

  his body as if he was freezing and looked around. Then he bent to scoop up

  the Shadow s matching short swords from where they lay amongst the rubble.

  When he turned to look back at the others, they were all startled to see that

  his eyes were bright with tears. I am sorry, he said, so terribly,

  terribly sorry. I have brought this terror and destruction to your home. It

  is unforgivable.

  We can rebuild, Saint-Germain said airily. This will give us the excuse we

  needed to remodel.

  Nicholas, Joan said very seriously, what happened here?

  The Alchemyst dragged up the only unbroken chair in the room and slumped into

  it. He hunched forward, elbows on his knees, looking at the Shadow s gleaming

  swords, turning them over and over in his hands. Those are Disir in the

  block of ice. Valkyries. Scathach s sworn enemies, though she s never told me

  why. I know they have pursued her down through the centuries and have always

  allied themselves with her enemies.

  They did this? Saint-Germain looked around the ruined kitchen.

  No. But they obviously brought something with them that did.

  What s happened to Josh? Sophie demanded. She shouldn't have left him alone

  in the kitchen, she should have waited with him. She would have defeated

  whatever had attacked the back of the house.

  Nicholas held up Scathach s weapon. I think you should be asking what s

  happened to the Warrior. In the centuries I ve known her, she s never let her

  swords out of her grasp. I fear she s been taken .

  Swords swords Sophie pulled away from Joan and began desperately searching

  through the rubble. When I went to bed, Josh had just come back from sword

  practice with Scatty and Joan. He had the stone sword you gave him. She

  summoned a wind to raise a chunk of heavy masonry and toss it aside,

  revealing the floor beneath. Where was the sword? She felt a flicker of hope.

  If he d been captured, then surely the sword would be on the floor? She

  straightened and looked around the room. Clarent isn't here.

  Saint-Germain walked to the hole where the back door had been. The garden was

  a ruin. A chunk of stone had been ripped out of the fountain and the bowl

  cracked in half. It took him a moment to recognize the U-shaped hunk of metal

  that had been his back gate. Only then did it sink in that the entire back

  wall was missing. The nine-foot-tall wall was now little more than a stump.

  There were powdered and crushed bricks scattered all across the garden,

  almost as if the wall had been pushed down from outside.

  Something big very big has been in the garden, he said to no one in

  particular.

  Flamel looked up. Can you smell anything? he asked.

  Saint-Germain breathed deeply. Snake, he said firmly. But that s not

  Machiavelli s odor. He stepped out into the garden and drew in a deep

  lungful of cool air. It s stronger out here. Then he coughed. This stench

  is fouler, much fouler , he called. This is the stink of something very,

  very old .

  Drawn by the wailing car alarms, Saint-Germain crossed the garden, clambered

  over the broken wall and looked up and down the alley. House and car alarms

  were ringing, mainly to his left, and there were lights on in the houses at

  that end of the street. In the mouth of the narrow alleyway, he could see the

  crushed remains of a black car.

  Whatever it was attacked this house, he said, darting back into the

  kitchen. There s a two-hundred-thousand-euro car at the end of the street

  that s only fit for the scrap yard.

  Nidhogg, Flamel whispered in horror. He nodded; it made sense now. The

  Disir brought Nidhogg, he said. Then he frowned. But even Machiavelli

  wouldn't bring something like that into a major city. He s too cautious.

  Nidhogg? Joan and Sophie asked simultaneously, looking at one another.

  Think of it as a cross between a dinosaur and a snake, Flamel explained.

  But probably older than this planet. I think it s got Scathach and Josh went

  after it.

  Sophie shook her head firmly. He wouldn't do that he couldn't he s terrified

  of snakes.

  Then where is he? Flamel asked. Where is Clarent? It s the only

  explanation: he s taken the sword and gone in search of the Shadow.

  But I heard him calling to her for help .

  You heard him call her name. He might have been calling out to her.

  Saint-Germain nodded. It makes sense. The Disir only wanted Scathach.

  Nidhogg grabbed her and ran. Josh must have followed.

  Maybe it grabbed him and she followed, Sophie suggested. That s the sort

  of thing she d do.

  It had no interest in Josh. It would have just eaten him. No, he went of his

  own accord.

  That shows great courage, Joan said.

  But Josh isn't brave , Sophie began. Yet even as she was saying it, she

  knew it wasn't entirely true. He d always stood up for her in school and

  protected her. But why would he go after Scatty? She knew he didn't even like

  her.

  People change, Joan said. No one stays the same.

  The noise was louder now, a mingled cacophony of police, ambulance and fire

  sirens drawing closer. Nicholas, Sophie, you've got to go, Saint-Germain

  said urgently. I think we re about to have police, lots and lots of police

  with far too many questions. And we have no answers. If they find you

  here without papers or passports I m afraid they ll hold you for

  questioning. He tugged out a leather wallet attached to his belt on a long

  chain. Here s some cash.

  I cannot , the Alchemyst began.

  Take it, Saint-Germain insisted. don't use your credit cards; Machiavelli

  can track your movements, he continued. I don't know how long the police

  will be here. If I m free, I ll meet you tonight at six at the glass pyramid

  outside the Louvre. If I m not there at six, I ll try and get there at

  midnight, or failing that, at six tomorrow morning.

  Thank you, old friend. Nicholas turned to Sophie. Grab your clothes, and

  Josh s too, and whatever else you need; we ll not be coming back here.

  I ll help you, Joan said, hurrying out of the room with Sophie.

  The Alchemyst and his former apprentice stood in the ruins of the kitchen,

  listening to the two women run upstairs.

  What are you going to do with the block of ice in the hall? Nicholas asked.

  We ve got a big chest freezer in the cellar. I ll shove it in there until

  the police leave. What about the Disir, are they dead, do you think?

  The Disir are practical
ly impossible to kill. Just make sure that ice

  doesn t melt anytime soon.

  I ll drive it to the Seine one evening and drop it in the river. With luck

  it won t thaw till Rouen.

  What are you going to tell the police Nicholas waved a hand at the

  devastation about all this?

  Gas explosion? Saint-Germain suggested.

  Lame, Flamel said with a smile, remembering what the twins had said when

  he d made the same suggestion.

  Lame?

  Very lame.

  Then I think I just came home and found it like this, he said, and it s

  close enough to the truth. I ve no idea how it happened. He suddenly grinned

  mischievously. I could sell the story and pictures to one of the tabloids.

  Mysterious Forces Destroy Rock Star s House.

  Everyone would think it was a publicity stunt.

  Yes, they would, wouldn't they? And you know what: I just happen to have a

  new album out. It ll be great advertising.

  The kitchen door opened and Sophie and Joan walked into the room. They had

  both changed into jeans and sweatshirts and were wearing matching backpacks.

  I m going with them, Joan said before Saint-Germain could ask the question

  that had started to form on his lips. They ll need a guide and a bodyguard.

  Would it be worth my while arguing with you? the count asked.

  No.

  Didn't think so. He hugged his wife. Please be careful, be very careful.

  If Machiavelli or Dee is prepared to bring the Disir and Nidhogg into the

  city, then they are desperate. And desperate men do stupid things.

  Yes, Flamel said simply. Yes, they do. And stupid men make mistakes.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  J osh kept looking over his shoulder, trying to orient himself. He was moving

  farther and farther away from Saint-Germain s house and was worried that he

  was going to get lost. But he couldn't turn back now; he couldn't leave

  Scatty to the creature. And so long as he could find the Arc de Triomphe at

  the end of the Champs-Elys es, he figured he d be able to get back to the

  house. Alternatively, all he had to do was to follow the steady stream of

  police cars, fire trucks and ambulances that were racing down the main

  street, heading in the direction he was running from.

  He tried not to think too much about what he was doing because if he thought

  about it he was chasing a dinosaur-like monster through Paris then he d stop,