The Sorceress (32 page)

The thoughts and emotions came at Josh like blows. He felt his head jerk with each startling image. But the most shocking of all was the sight of the Archon lying in the mud. Dee intended to kill Cernunnos. But to do that he needed Clarent. And Josh was not giving up the Sword of Fire. He tightened his grip on the hilt and pushed hard against Excalibur, but it was like pushing against a rock wall. Holding the sword in both hands, he pressed back against Dee’s sword again, stone grating and sparking, but it didn’t move. The reflected light turned Dee’s face into a grinning skull.

Josh had seen Sophie focus her aura, had watched her shape it around her body; he’d felt its healing properties on his own skin, but he had no idea
how
she did it. Joan had trained her. But he’d had no one to train him. “Sis …?”

“I’m here.” Sophie was instantly by his side.

“How did you …” He groped for the right word. “How do you get your aura to focus?”

“I don’t know. I just … I guess I just concentrate really hard.”

Josh took a deep breath and frowned, forehead creasing, eyebrows knitting together, concentrating as hard as he could.

Nothing happened.

“Close your eyes,” Sophie said. “Visualize really clearly what you want to see happen. Start with something small, tiny …”

Josh nodded. He took another deep breath and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Sophie could focus her aura into her little finger, so why couldn’t he just—

There was an instant when he felt something churn in his stomach; then it surged up through his chest, down along both arms, into his hands, which were wrapped around the hilt of the sword. His aura exploded into blazing, blinding light that flowed down the weapon.

Clarent moaned, the sound one of pure agony as the stone blade turned to solid gold. The instant it touched Dee’s sword, it doused Excalibur’s cold blue-white fire, turning it back to plain gray stone.

Josh blinked in surprise.

And his aura winked out of existence.

Instantly, the gold fire faded from Clarent and was replaced with crimson-black fire. Excalibur reignited in a huge explosion of sparks. Staggered and shaking, Josh managed to
retain his grip on Clarent, but the shocking force had sent Dee flying backward, sending up a geyser of mud. He then slid on his back across the filthy oily ground, and Excalibur tumbled through the air to fall point-first into the mud close to his head.

It took a tremendous effort for Josh to pull Clarent back out of the fire. Immediately, the circular window in the flames snapped shut. The boy’s face was ghastly, deep blue-black shadows under his eyes, but he still managed a shaky smile for his twin. “See: that was no problem.”

Sophie reached out for her brother and put her hand on his shoulder. He felt a trickle of energy from her aura flow into his body, steadying his wobbly legs.

“I wonder what Dee will do next?” she said.

A heartbeat later, thunder boomed and rumbled and lightning flashed almost directly overhead. The rain that followed was torrential.

erenelle sloshed through the muddy tunnel, heading back toward the ladder. In one hand she carried the spear; the other was clamped over her nose, but she could feel the nauseating fishy smell coating her tongue and taste it in her throat every time she swallowed.

Juan Manuel de Ayala floated beside her, facing back down the tunnel. There was no sign of the Crow Goddess.

“What are you frightened of?” Perenelle demanded. “You’re a ghost; nothing can harm you.” Then she smiled, and her voice softened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I know what an extraordinary effort it took for you to reach the cave mouth and warn me.”

“It was easier once you broke the Spell of Binding,”
the ghost said. Much of his essence had dissipated, leaving only the merest hint of his face and the outline of his head hanging in the air. His dark shining eyes were brilliant in the
gloom.
“Nereus is every sailor’s nightmare,”
he admitted.
“And I am not frightened for myself I fear for you, Sorceress.”

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Perenelle asked lightly. “He can only kill me. Or try to.”

The ghost’s eyes turned liquid.
“Oh, he’ll not kill you. Not immediately. He’ll drag you down to some undersea kingdom and keep you alive for centuries. And when he is finished with you, he’ll turn you into some sea creature—like a sea cow or a dugong.”

“That’s just a story …,” Perenelle began, and then stopped, realizing just how ridiculous her statement was: she was running down an underground tunnel accompanied by a ghost, pursuing an ancient Celtic goddess and being followed by the Old Man of the Sea. Reaching the end of the tunnel, she craned her neck and looked up. Far above her, she could see a circle of blue sky.

She tore a narrow strip off the ragged hem of her dress and tied it around her waist. Shoving the spear into the back of the makeshift belt, she reached up to grab the slimy metal rungs of the rusting ladder.

“Perenelle!”
de Ayala howled as he flowed upward.

“Leaving so soon, Sorceress?” The voice echoed down the corridor, liquid and bubbling, a gurgling, gargling sound.

Perenelle turned and tossed a tiny spark of light down the tunnel. Like a rubber ball, it bounced off the ceiling, hit a wall, then the ground, and bounced up again.

Nereus filled the darkness.

The instant before he reached out and crushed the light in his web-fingered hand, Perenelle caught a glimpse of a
stocky, surprisingly normal-looking man, a head of thick curly hair flowing to his shoulders, mingling with a short beard that was twisted into two tight curls. He was wearing a sleeveless jerkin of overlapping kelp leaves and strands of green seaweed, and in his left hand he held a wickedly spiked stone trident. As the light faded and the tunnel plunged back into darkness, Perenelle realized that the Old Man of the Sea had no lower limbs. Below the waist, eight octopus legs writhed and coiled across the corridor.

The stink of rotting fish intensified, there was a flicker of movement and then one suckered leg wrapped itself around Perenelle’s ankle and held fast. A second, sticky and slimy, attached itself to her shin.

“Stay awhile,” Nereus gurgled. Another leg snapped around Perenelle’s knee, suckers biting deep into her skin. His laughter was like a wet sponge being squeezed dry. “I insist.”

osh sat, dazed, as the wall of fire started to die down in a billowing cloud of thick white steam. Rain churned the ground to thick sticky mud as thunder rumbled continuously overhead. Lightning flashed, painting everything ash white and ebony black.

“Time to go,” Palamedes said decisively, rainwater running off his helmet. He turned to look at Sophie and Josh, Nicholas and Shakespeare. They were all soaked through, the twins’ hair plastered to their skulls. “There is a time to fight and a time to run. A good soldier always knows when it is time to do either. We can stand here and fight Dee and Cernunnos and none of us will survive. Except you, perhaps,” he said to the twins. Firelight ran amber off his dark skin and matching armor. “Though I am not sure what your quality of life would be in service to the Dark Elders.
Nor how long you would survive when they were finished with you.”

Bitter smoke curled around them, thick, cloying and noxious, driving them back toward the metal hut.

“Will, take the Gabriel Hounds—”

“I’m not running,” the Bard said immediately.

“I’m not asking you to run,” Palamedes snapped. “I want you to regroup and not needlessly sacrifice our forces.”

“Our
forces?” Nicholas asked. “Don’t tell me the Saracen Knight has finally chosen a side?”

“Temporarily, I assure you,” Palamedes said. He turned back to the Bard. “Will, take the Gabriel Hounds through the tunnel under the hut. Gabriel,” he called. The largest of the dogmen hurried over. The blue tattoos on his cheeks were covered in mud and speckled blood, and his dun-colored hair stuck up in all directions. “Protect your master. Get him out of London and bring him to the Great Henge. Wait for me there.”

Shakespeare opened his mouth to protest but closed it when the Saracen Knight glared at him.

Gabriel nodded. “It will be done. How long should we wait at the Henge?”

“If I am not back by sundown tomorrow, then take Will to one of the nearby Shadowrealms; Avalon or Lyonesse, perhaps. You should be safe there.”

Ignoring the Alchemyst, Gabriel turned bloodshot eyes to look at the twins. “And what of the two that are one?”

Josh and Sophie waited silently as Palamedes took a deep
breath. “I’m going to bring them back into London.” He looked at the Alchemyst. “We’ll take them to the king.”

The dogman’s savage teeth flashed in a smile. “Leaving them with Cernunnos might be safer.”

Sophie and Josh sat in the back of the black London taxi and watched the Alchemyst, Shakespeare and Palamedes huddle together around a flaming barrel that was burning chunks of wood and strips of smoldering black tires. Rain steamed and hissed over the flames, and thick white smoke from the dying moat fires mingled with the greasy black fumes coming out of the barrel.

“I can see their auras,” Josh muttered wearily. The unexpected appearance of his own aura had exhausted him. A sick headache pounded just over his eyes, the muscles in his arms and legs were burning and his stomach felt queasy, almost as if he was going to throw up. His hands were numb where they’d gripped Clarent’s hilt.

Sophie turned to look out the steamed-up window. Josh was correct: the three immortals were outlined with the faintest of auras—Flamel’s emerald green and Palamedes’ deeper olive green bracketing Shakespeare’s pale lemon yellow.

“What are they doing?” Josh asked.

Sophie hit the window button, but the car was turned off and the electric windows didn’t work. She rubbed the palm of her hand across the glass to clear it, then caught her breath. The immortal’s auras brightened, and she could feel the
crawling trickle of power as it started to dribble from their hands like sticky liquid into the barrel. “Nicholas and Palamedes seem to be lending their power to Shakespeare. The Bard’s lips are moving, he’s saying something ….” She cracked open the door to listen, blinking as a sprinkling of rain spattered into the darkened interior of the car.