Flamel spun the staff like a baton. “This focuses my power.”
Scatty looked around. “We seem to be trapped.”
“Hekate went this way,” Nicholas said, turning to the right and pointing to what looked like an impenetrable barrier of knotted roots. “I saw her come running out of the chamber and walk straight through this.” He stepped up to the knotted wood and stretched out his arm. It disappeared right up to the elbow.
“I’ll go first,” Scatty said. Josh noticed that although she had been fighting the deadly combination of birds and cats, there was neither a scratch on her body nor a hair out of place. She wasn’t even breathing hard—though if she really was a vampire, then maybe she didn’t need to breathe at all, he thought. Scatty darted forward, and in the last moment before she reached the wall of roots, she dived straight into the opening, swords crossed over her chest.
Flamel and Josh looked at one another in the brief moment that followed…and then Scatty’s head poked through the solid-looking tangle of roots. “All clear.”
“I’ll take the rear,” Flamel said, stepping back to allow Josh to go ahead of him. “I’ll deal with anything that follows us.”
Josh nodded, unwilling to trust himself to talk to Flamel. He was still furious with the Alchemyst for endangering his sister’s life, but he also recognized that Flamel was now fighting for them, placing himself in very real danger to protect them. Josh stepped up to the wall of twisted roots and packed earth, closed his eyes…and walked right through. There was an instant of damp chill and then he opened his eyes to see Scatty directly in front of him. He was standing in a low, narrow chamber created entirely from the Yggdrasill’s gnarled roots. Clumps of green moss leaked a dim green light into the chamber, and he could see that Scatty was standing at the bottom of a set of narrow, irregular steps that led upward into the gloom. Scatty’s head was tilted to one side, but before Josh could ask what she was hearing, Flamel stepped through the wall. He was smiling, and the top of his staff emitted traces of green gas. “That should hold them for a while.”
“Let’s go,” Scatty called as soon as the Alchemyst appeared.
The stairway was so narrow that Josh was forced to move in a sideways crab-crawl, head ducked low, with Sophie held close to his body to prevent her head and legs from cracking against the rough wooden walls. He tested every step before he took it; he didn’t want to risk falling and dropping his sister. He suddenly realized that these steps were cut into the space between the inner and outer bark of the great tree, and couldn’t help wondering if a tree the size of Yggdrasill was riddled with secret passages, hidden rooms, forgotten chambers and lost stairways. It must be, he decided. Did Hekate even know where they all were? And then, his mind racing, he wondered who had created these steps. Somehow he could not imagine the goddess carving them out of the living wood herself.
As they climbed, they could smell the bitter stench of burning wood, and the sounds of battle came clearer. The cat shrieks became even more human, the bird screeches were completely terrifying, and they mingled with the bellowing roars of the boars and the hissing of the nathair. Now that the group was no longer underground, the heat and smoke intensified and they began to hear another sound—a deep bass groaning rumble.
“We need to hurry.” Scatty’s voice drifted back out of the gloom. “We really need to hurry now….” And somehow the forced calm in the Warrior’s voice frightened Josh more than if she had screamed. “Careful now; we’ve reached an opening. We’re at the end of a thick root, about thirty yards away from the main body of the tree. We’re well clear of the fighting,” she added.
Josh rounded a corner and discovered Scatty standing bathed in shafts of early-morning sunshine that shone through a curtain of vines directly ahead of her. She turned to face him, sunlight turning her red hair golden and running along the blades of her short swords, and in that moment, Josh saw her as the ancient and terrifying Warrior she was. The sounds of battle were all around them, but louder than all the other noises was the groaning rumble that seemed to vibrate deep in the ground. “What is that sound?” he asked.
“The cries of the Yggdrasill,” Scatty answered grimly. “Hekate’s enemies have set light to the World Tree.”
“But why?” He found the very idea horrifying—this ancient living tree had harmed no one. But the action gave him an insight into the contempt with which the Dark Elders held life.
“Her powers are inextricably linked to it; her magic brought it to towering life, its life force keeps her strong. They believe that by destroying it, they will destroy her.”
Flamel came panting up the steps to stand behind Josh. The Alchemyst’s thin face was bright red and beaded with sweat. “Getting old,” he said with a wry smile. He looked at Scatty. “What’s the plan?”
“Simple,” she began, “we get away from here as quickly as possible.” Then she spun the sword in her left hand so that the blade was lying flat against the length of her arm. She pointed with the hilt. Flamel and Josh stood close to her and peered out through the curtain of vines. On the opposite side of the field, Dr. John Dee had appeared, moving cautiously through the undergrowth. The black-bladed short sword that he held in both hands glowed and flickered with a cold blue light.
“Dee,” Flamel said. “Never in my life would I have imagined being delighted to see him. This is good news indeed.”
Both Scatty and Josh looked at him in surprise.
“Dee is human…which means that he came here via human transportation,” the Alchemyst explained.
“A car”—Scatty nodded in agreement—“that he would probably have left just outside the Shadowrealm.”
Josh was about to ask how she knew he would have left it outside when he suddenly realized he knew the answer. “Because he knew if he drove it in here, the battery would be drained.”
“Look,” Scatty murmured.
They watched one of the huge, boarlike Torc Alltas emerge from the long grass behind Dee. Although it was still in its beast shape, it rose on its hind legs, until it reached nearly three times the height of the man.
“It’s going to kill him,” Josh murmured.
Dee’s sword flared bright blue, and then the small man threw himself backward, toward the Torc Allta, bringing the sword around in a short arc. The sudden movement seemed to surprise the creature, but it easily batted aside the blade…and then it froze. Where the blade had touched it, a thin sheath of ice grew up the beast’s arm, tiny crystals sparkling in the early-morning sunshine. The ice coated the Torc Allta’s chest and flowed down its massive legs and up his shoulders and head. Within a matter of heartbeats the creature was encased in a block of blue-veined ice. Dee picked himself up off the ground, dusted off his coat and then, without warning, hammered on the ice with the hilt of his sword. The block shattered into millions of tinkling pieces, each one containing a fragment of the Torc Allta.
“One of the elemental swords,” Scatty remarked grimly, “Excalibur, the Sword of Ice. I thought it was lost ages past, thrown back into the lake when Artorius died.”
“Looks like the doctor found it,” Flamel murmured.
Josh discovered that he wasn’t even surprised to hear that King Arthur had been real, and he found himself wondering which other legendary figures had really existed.
They watched as Dee hurried back into the undergrowth, heading for the other side of the huge tree house, where the sounds of battle were loudest. The smell of smoke was stronger now. Sharp and bitter, it curled and twisted around the tree, carrying with it the reek of ancient places and long-forgotten spices. Wood snapped and cracked, sap boiled and popped and the deep bass thrumming was now strong enough to set the entire tree vibrating.
“I’ll clear the way,” Scatty said as she darted through the vines. Almost immediately a trio of the birdmen came winging toward her, followed by two of the cat-people, running on all fours.
“We’ve got to help her!” Josh said desperately, though he’d no idea wh
at he could do.
“She is Scathach; she doesn’t need our help,” Flamel said. “She’ll lead them away from us first….”
Scathach raced into the undergrowth, running lightly, her heavy boots making no sound on the soft earth. The birds and cats followed.
“She’ll back herself up against something, so that they can only come at her from one side, then she’ll turn to face them.”
Josh watched as Scatty spun and faced her attackers, with her back to a gnarled oak tree. The cat creatures reached her quickly, claws flashing, but her short swords were quicker, and struck sparks from their claws. A bird-creature swung in low, huge wings flapping, talons extended. Driving the sword in her left hand into the ground, she caught the creature’s extended wrist and yanked it out of the air, then tossed it into the middle of the snarling cats. The bird instinctively lashed out at the cats, and suddenly, the animals were fighting among themselves. Two more bird-people immediately dropped onto the cats with a hideous squalling. Scatty yanked her sword out of the ground and used it to beckon to Flamel and Josh.
Flamel tapped Josh’s shoulder. “Go. Get to Scathach.”
Josh turned to look at the Alchemyst. “What about you?”
“I’ll wait a moment, then follow and protect you.”
And even though Josh knew Flamel had placed them in terrible danger, he had no doubts that the Alchemyst would watch his back. He nodded, then turned and burst through the curtain of vines and ran, clutching his sister tightly to his chest. Away from the shelter of the tree, the noise of battle was incredible, but he concentrated on the ground directly ahead of him, watching for roots or other irregularities in the earth that could trip him. In his arms, Sophie stirred; her eyes flickered, and she started to move. Josh tightened his grip. “Stay still,” he said urgently, though he wasn’t sure if she could hear him. He shifted direction, moving to the right, away from the struggling creatures, but he couldn’t help noticing that when they were badly injured, they reverted to their original bird and cat shapes. Two bemused-looking cats and three ragged crows picked themselves out of the dirt and watched him run past. Josh could hear Flamel running behind him, could smell the mint on the morning air as the Alchemyst worked his magic. Another ten or fifteen footsteps would take him to Scatty, and Josh knew that once he was with her, he was safe. But when he reached Scatty, he was just in time to see her eyes widen in horror. He looked over his shoulder and saw a tall woman with the head and claws of a sleek feline, wearing the robes of ancient Egypt, leap at least twenty feet and land squarely on Nicholas Flamel’s back, driving him into the ground. A curved, sicklelike claw shot out and sliced his short staff neatly in two, then the creature threw back her head and hissed and spat triumphantly.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Perenelle Flamel was moved from her tiny underground cell by four small guards dressed entirely in black leather, their heads and faces concealed behind motorcycle helmets. She wasn’t entirely sure they were human—certainly she could detect no trace of an aura, a heartbeat or even breathing from the figures. As they crowded around her, she caught the faintest hint of something old and dead, like rotten eggs and overripe fruit. She thought they might be simulacra, artificial creatures grown in vats of putrid bubbling liquid. Perenelle knew that Dee had always been fascinated by the idea of creating his own followers and had spent decades experimenting with Golems, simulacra and homunculi.
Without saying a word, and with jerky gestures, the four figures ushered her out of the cell and down a long, narrow, dimly lit corridor. Perenelle deliberately moved slowly, giving herself time to gather her strength and absorb impressions of the place. Jefferson Miller, the ghost of the security guard, had told her that she was in the basement of Enoch Enterprises, west of Telegraph Hill, close to the famous Coit Tower. She knew she was deep underground: the walls ran with moisture, and the air was so cold that it plumed in clouds before her face. Now that she was out of the cell and away from its protective spells and charms, she felt a little of her strength begin to return. Perenelle desperately tried to think of a spell she could use on the guards, but contact with the ghost of Mr. Miller had left her exhausted, and she had a headache pulsing at the back of her eyes that made it hard to concentrate.
A shape suddenly flickered into existence directly ahead of her. Her breath, a foggy white in the chilly air, had briefly formed a face.
Perenelle glanced at her guards on either side, but they hadn’t reacted. She drew in a deep lungful of breath, held it, allowing her body to warm it, and then breathed out in a long, slow exhalation. A face formed in the white mist: that of Jefferson Miller.
Perenelle frowned; his ghost should be long gone by now. Unless…unless he had come back to tell her something.
Nicholas!
Instantly, she knew her husband was in danger. Perenelle breathed in another great lungful of air and held it. She concentrated hard on Nicholas, seeing him clearly in her mind’s eye, with his narrow, rather mournful-looking face, pale eyes and closely cropped hair. She smiled, remembering him when he’d been younger and his hair, thick and dark, had been longer than hers. He’d always worn it tied back at the nape of his neck with a purple velvet ribbon. She breathed out and the air turned into a white cloud that instantly formed into Jefferson Miller’s face again. Perenelle stared into the ghost’s eyes, and there, reflected in his pupils, she could see her husband trapped beneath the paw of the cat-headed goddess.
Rage and terror blossomed within her, and suddenly, her headache and exhaustion left her. Her silver-threaded black hair rose from her head as if blown in a strong breeze, sparks of blue and white static snapping along its length. Her ice-white aura flared around her body like a second skin. Too late the guards realized that something was wrong. They reached for her, but the moment their hands touched the glowing edges of her aura, they were catapulted away as if they’d received an electric shock. One guard even threw himself onto her body, but before he could lay a finger on her, Perenelle’s aura caught him and propelled him high into the wall with enough force to knock the motorcycle helmet off his head. The figure slid down the wall, arms and legs twisted in awkward positions. When Perenelle looked at his face, she realized that the creatures were indeed simulacra. This one was unfinished: his face and head were simply smooth flesh, bald, without eyes, nose, mouth or ears.
The woman raced down the corridor, only pausing when she came to an oily-looking puddle on the floor. Crouching over the puddle, she concentrated hard and touched the murky water with her index and little fingers. Her white aura sizzled when it touched the liquid, and the water briefly smoked before it cleared and Perenelle found she was looking at the scene she had briefly glimpsed in the ghost’s eyes. Her husband was lying under Bastet’s claws. Behind them, Scatty was struggling to hold off the attacking cats and birds, while Josh stood with his back to a tree, awkwardly clutching a branch like a baseball bat, striking out at anything that came too close. Sophie lay at his feet, moving slowly, blinking in confusion.
Perenelle glanced up and down the corridor. She could hear noises in the distance, footsteps against stone, and she knew more guards were approaching. She could run and hide or she could fight the guards; she had a little of her strength back. But that wasn’t going to help Nicholas and the children.
Perenelle looked back into the puddle. In the distance she could see Hekate withstanding the combined attack of the Morrigan and her birds and Bastet’s cats. Perenelle also spotted Dee moving around behind Hekate, the sword in his hand glowing bright, poisonous blue, while behind them the Yggdrasill burned with fierce red and green flames.
There was one other thing she could do. Something desperate and dangerous, and if it succeeded, it would leave her utterly exhausted and completely defenseless. Dee’s creatures would simply be able to pick her up and carry her away.
Perenelle didn’t think twice.
Crouching over the puddle of dirty water, she placed her right hand, palm up, in her left hand a
nd concentrated fiercely. Perenelle’s aura began to shift and move, flowing down her arms like drifting smoke, gathering in the palm of her hand, running like liquid along the creases and lines in her flesh. A tiny speck of silver-white light appeared in the folds of skin. It solidified into a perfect sphere and then it started to spin and grow, and now the ice white threads of her aura flowed more swiftly down her arms. Within a heartbeat the sphere was the size of an egg, and then Perenelle suddenly reversed her palm and thrust the ball of pure auric energy into the water. She uttered three words.
“Sophie. Wake up!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“Sophie. Wake up!”
Sophie Newman’s eyes snapped open. And then she squeezed them shut again and pressed her hands against her ears. The lights were so bright, so vivid, the sounds of battle so incredibly clear and distinct.
“Sophie. Wake up!”
The shock of hearing the voice again forced her to open her eyes and look around. She could hear Perenelle Flamel as clearly as if she were standing beside her, but there was no one there. She was lying propped against the rough bark of an oak tree, with Josh standing beside her, a thick branch clutched in both hands, desperately beating back terrifying creatures.
Sophie slowly pushed herself to her feet, holding on to the tree for support. The last thing she clearly remembered was the bitter odor of rich green wood burning. She remembered saying “Fire!” and then the rest was a series of confused images—a narrow tunnel, creatures with bird heads and cat skulls—that might have been dreams.
As Sophie’s eyes adjusted and she looked around, she realized that they had not been dreams.
They were completely surrounded by birds and cats: hundreds of them. Some of the cat-headed humans lurked in the long grass and attempted to creep toward them on all fours or on their bellies, spitting and clawing. There were birdmen in the branches of the tree overhead, maneuvering to get close enough to drop down, while others kept hopping in, jabbing at Josh with their evil-looking beaks.