contained?
Josh glanced quickly at the stone sword and a shudder ran through him. A
weapon like this gave the wielder unimaginable powers and what a frightening
temptation it was. Surely the urge to use it again and again to gain more and
more knowledge would become uncontrollable? It was a terrifying thought.
But why had the Alchemyst given it to him?
The answer came immediately: because Flamel didn't know! The sword was a dead
lump of stone until it stabbed or cut something only then did it come alive.
Josh nodded to himself; now he knew why Saint-Germain, Joan and Scatty would
not touch the weapon.
As he raced down the street toward the river, he wondered what would happen
if he managed to kill Nidhogg with Clarent. What would he feel, what would he
experience?
What would he know?
Nidhogg burst through a stand of trees and darted across the road and down
onto the Port des Champs-Elys es. It stopped in the parking lot on the
quayside almost directly in front of Dee and Machiavelli and dropped onto all
fours, huge head swaying from side to side, tongue lolling out of its mouth.
It was so close they could see Scatty s limp body caught in its claws and the
Disir astride its neck. Nidhogg s tail lashed, buffeting parked cars and
smashing into a long tour bus, staving in the engine. A tire popped with a
deep boom.
I think we should get out of the car , Dee began, reaching for the door,
eyes fixed on the swinging tail as it flipped a heavy BMW onto its roof.
Machiavelli s arm shot out, fingers closing on the Magician s arm in a
painful viselike grip. Do not even think about moving. Do nothing that will
attract its attention.
But the tail
It s in pain, that s why the tail is thrashing about. But it seems to be
slowing down.
Dee turned his head slightly. Machiavelli was correct: there was something
wrong with Nidhogg s tail. About one-third of its total length had turned
black it looked almost stonelike. Even as Dee watched, tendrils and veins of
bubbling black liquid crept over the creature s hard flesh, slowly encasing
it in a solid crust. Dr. John Dee immediately knew what had happened.
The boy stabbed it with Clarent, he said, not even turning his head to look
at Machiavelli. That s what caused the reaction.
I thought you said Clarent was the Sword of Fire, not the Sword of Stone.
There are many different forms of fire, Dee said. Who knows how the
blade s energy reacted with something like Nidhogg? He stared at the tail,
watching as more of the thick black crust grew on the skin. As it hardened,
he caught a brief glimpse of red fire. Lava crust, he said, voice hushed in
wonder. It s lava crust. The fire is burning within the creature s skin.
No wonder it s in pain, Machiavelli muttered.
You sound almost sorry for it, Dee snapped.
I never traded my humanity for my long life, Doctor. I ve always remembered
my roots. His voice hardened, turned contemptuous. You worked so hard to be
like your Elder master that you've forgotten what it is like to feel human to
be human. And we humans he stressed the last word have the capacity to feel
another creature s pain. It is what lifted humani above the Elders, it is
what made them great.
And it s the weakness that will ultimately destroy them, Dee said simply.
Let me remind you that this creature is not human. It could crush you
underfoot and not even notice. However, let us not argue now; not when we re
about to be victorious. The boy might have solved our problem for us, Dee
said. Nidhogg is slowly turning to stone. He laughed delightedly. If it
jumps into the river now, the weight of its tail will drag it to the
bottom and take Scathach with it. He looked slyly at Machiavelli. I take it
your humanity does not extend to feeling sorry for the Shadow.
Machiavelli grimaced. Knowing Scathach is lying at the bottom of the Seine
wrapped in the creature s claws would make me very happy indeed.
The two immortals sat unmoving in the car, watching as the creature lurched
forward, moving more slowly now, the weight of its tail dragging behind it.
All that stood between it and the water was one of the glass-enclosed
boats the bateaux-mouches that took tourists up and down the river.
Dee nodded toward the boat. Once it climbs onto that, the boat will sink,
and Nidhogg and Scathach will disappear into the Seine forever.
And what about the Disir?
I m sure she can swim.
Machiavelli allowed himself a wry smile. So all we re waiting for now
is for it to reach the boat, Dee finished, just as Josh appeared through
the gaping hole in the tree-lined quayside and darted across the parking lot.
As Josh raced up to the creature, the sword in his right hand began to burn,
long streamers of orange fire curling off the blade. His aura started to
crackle a matching golden color, suffusing the air with the smell of oranges.
Abruptly, the Disir slid off the monster s back, flickering back into her
white chain mail in the instant before her feet touched the ground. She
rounded on Josh, her features locked into an ugly, savage mask. You are
becoming a nuisance, boy, she snarled in barely comprehensible English.
Lifting her great broadsword in both hands, she threw herself toward Josh.
This will just take a moment.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
H uge sweeping banks of fog rolled across San Francisco Bay.
Perenelle Flamel folded her arms across her chest and watched the night sky
fill with birds. A great wheeling flock rose over the city, gathered in a
thick moving cloud, and then, like tendrils of spilled ink, three separate
streams of birds set out across the bay, heading directly for the island. And
she knew that somewhere in the heart of the great flock was the Crow Goddess.
The Morrigan was coming to Alcatraz.
Perenelle was standing in the burned-out ruins of the warden s house, where
she d finally managed to escape the masses of spiders. Although it had burned
more than three decades ago, she could smell the ghost-odors of charred wood,
cracked plaster and melted piping lingering in the air. The Sorceress knew
that if she lowered her defenses and concentrated, she would be able to hear
the voices of the wardens and their families who had occupied the building
through the years.
Shading her bright green eyes and squinting hard, Perenelle concentrated on
the approaching birds, trying to distinguish them from the night and work out
just how much time she had before they arrived. The flock was huge, and the
thickening fog made it impossible to guess either size or distance. But she
guessed she had perhaps ten or fifteen minutes before they reached the
island. She brought her little finger and thumb close together. A single
white spark cracked between them. Perenelle nodded. Her powers were
returning, just not fast enough. They would continue to strengthen now that
she was away from the sphinx, but her aura would recharge more slowly at
night. She also knew that she was still nowhere near strong enough to defeat
the Morrigan and her pets.
But that didn't mean she was defenseless; a lifetime of study had taught her
many useful things.