The Magician

by Michael Scott

  The two creatures held each other and jumped up and down, shaking with what could only be laughter.

  “Josh.” Machiavelli’s commanding voice broke through the boy’s rising panic and silenced the creatures. “Josh. Listen to me. Hear my voice, concentrate on it. The satyrs are simple creatures and feed off the most basic of human emotions: one gorges itself on fear, the other delights in panic. They are Phobos and Deimos.”

  At the mention of their names, the two satyrs started back, fading into the shadows, until only their huge liquid eyes were visible, black and shining in the light of the hovering globe.

  “They are the Guardians of the Sleeping God.”

  And then, with a grinding of ancient stone, the statue sat up and swiveled its head to look at Josh. Within the helmet, two eyes blazed bloodred.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  “Is this a Shadowrealm?” Sophie asked in a horrified whisper, her breath catching in her throat.

  She was standing at the entrance to a long straight tunnel whose walls were decorated and lined with what looked like human bones. A single low-wattage bulb lit the space with a dull yellow light.

  Joan squeezed her arm and laughed gently. “No. We’re still in our world. Welcome to the Catacombs of Paris.”

  Sophie’s eyes flickered silver as the Witch’s knowledge flowed through her. The Witch of Endor knew these catacombs well. Sophie rocked back on her heels as a sudden array of images engulfed her: men and women wearing little more than rags quarrying stone from huge pits in the ground, watched over by guards wearing the uniforms of Roman centurions. “These were quarries,” she whispered.

  “A long time ago,” Nicholas said. “And now it is a tomb for millions of Parisians and one other….”

  “The Sleeping God,” Sophie said, her voice cracking. This was an Elder the Witch both loathed and pitied.

  Saint-Germain and Joan were shocked by the girl’s knowledge. Even Flamel looked startled.

  Sophie started shivering. She wrapped her arms around her body, trying to stand upright as dark thoughts crashed through her brain. The Sleeping God had once been an Elder….

  …On a burning battlefield, she saw a lone warrior in metal and leather armor, wielding a sword almost as tall as he, fighting off creatures straight out of the Jurassic Age.

  …At the gates of an ancient city, the warrior in metal and leather stood alone against a vast horde of apelike beast-men while a column of refugees escaped through another gate.

  …On the steps of an impossibly high pyramid, the warrior defended a lone woman and child from creatures that were a cross between serpents and birds.

  “Sophie…”

  She shivered, ice-cold now, teeth chattering. The images changed; the warrior’s polished leather and metal armor had turned filthy, encrusted with mud, streaked and stained. The warrior, too, was changed.

  …The warrior raced through a primitive ice-locked village, howling like a beast, while fur-wrapped humans fled from him or cowered in fear.

  …The warrior rode at the head of a vast army that was a mongrel mix of beasts and men bearing down on a sparkling city in the heart of an empty desert.

  …The warrior stood in the middle of an enormous library filled with charts, scrolls and books of metal, cloth and bark. The library was burning so intensely that the metal books flowed liquid. Slashing his sword through a series of shelves, he swept more books onto the flames.

  “Sophie!”

  The girl’s aura flickered and crackled as the Alchemyst gripped her shoulders and squeezed hard.

  “Sophie!”

  Flamel’s voice snapped her out of her trance. “I saw…I saw…,” she began hoarsely. Her throat felt raw, and she’d bitten down so hard on the inside of her cheek that there was the disgusting metallic taste of blood in her mouth.

  “I cannot even imagine what you saw,” he said gently. “But I think I know who you saw….”

  “Who was it?” she panted, breathless now. “Who was the warrior in the metal and leather armor?” She knew if she thought hard about him, the Witch’s memories would supply his name, but that would also draw her back into the warrior’s violent world, and she didn’t want that.

  “The Elder, Mars Ultor.”

  “The God of War,” Joan of Arc added bitterly.

  Without looking or turning her head, Sophie raised her left hand and pointed down a narrow corridor. “He’s down there,” she said quietly.

  “How do you know?” Saint-Germain asked.

  “I can feel him,” the girl said with a shudder. She rubbed her arms furiously. “It’s like something cold and sticky is running down my skin. It’s coming from there.”

  “This tunnel leads us into the secret heart of the catacombs,” Saint-Germain said, “into the lost Roman city of Lutetia.” He brushed his hands briskly together, showering sparks onto the ground, and then set off down the tunnel, followed by Joan. Sophie was about to follow them when she stopped and looked at the Alchemyst. “What happened to Mars? When I saw him first, I thought he was the defender of humanity. What changed him?”

  Nicholas shook his head. “No one knows. Perhaps the answer lies in the Witch’s memories?” he suggested. “They must have known one another.”

  Sophie started to shake her head. “Don’t make me think about him…,” she began, but it was too late. Even as the Alchemyst was asking the question, a series of terrible images flashed through Sophie’s mind. She saw a tall, handsome man standing alone on the top of a dizzyingly high stepped pyramid, arms raised to the heavens. Across his shoulders he wore a spectacular cloak of multicolored feathers. Spread out below the pyramid was a huge stone city, surrounded by a thick jungle. The city was celebrating, the broad streets thronged with people wearing brightly colored clothes, ornate jewelry and extravagant feathered cloaks and headdresses. The only absence of color was in the line of white-clad men and women stretching down the center of the wide main street. Looking more closely, she realized that they were chained together with ropes of leather and vine around their necks. Guards wielding whips and spears were driving them toward the pyramid.

  Sophie drew in a deep shuddering breath and blinked away the images. “She knew him,” she said coldly. She didn’t tell the Alchemyst that the Witch of Endor had once loved Mars…but that had been a long time ago, before he had changed, before he had become known as Mars Ultor. The Avenger.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  “Hail, Mars, the Lord of War,” Dee said loudly.

  Completely numb with fright, Josh watched as the huge helmeted head slowly turned to look at Dee. The Magician’s aura immediately snapped alight, sizzling yellow and vaporous around him. Within the god’s helmet, red light glowed. The head turned again with the sound of grinding stone, and blazing crimson eyes looked at the boy. The two ghost-white satyrs, Phobos and Deimos, crept out of the shadows and crouched behind the stone pedestal, watching Josh intently. Even glancing at them sent waves of panic and fear coursing through his entire body, and he was sure he saw one of them lick thin lips with a tongue the color of an old bruise. Deliberately looking away, he concentrated on the ancient Elder.

  “You must show no fear,” Machiavelli had said, “and do not panic.” But that was easier said than done. Directly in front of him, close enough to touch, was the Elder the Romans had worshipped as the God of War. Josh had never heard of Hekate or the Witch of Endor, and because he knew nothing about them, they hadn’t had the same effect on him. This Elder was different. Now he knew what Dee had meant when he said that this was the Elder remembered by humankind. This was Mars himself, the Elder with a month and a planet named after him.

  Josh tried to draw in a deep breath and settle his thumping heart, but he was shaking so hard he could barely breathe. His legs were like jelly, and he felt that at any moment, he could crumple to the ground. Squeezing his mouth shut, he forced himself to draw in air through his nose, trying to remember some of the breathing exercises he’d learned in martial arts clas
s. He closed his eyes tight and wrapped his arms around his body, hugging himself hard. He should be able to do this: he’d seen Elders before; he’d faced the undead and even fought a primeval monster. How hard could this be?

  Josh straightened, opened his eyes and looked at the statue of Mars…except that it wasn’t a statue. This was a living being. There was a thick hard gray crust over his skin and clothing. The only touch of color about the god was in his eyes, which glowed red behind a full-face visor that completely concealed his face.

  “Great Mars, it is almost time,” Dee said quickly, “time for the Elders to return to the world of the humani.” He took a breath and announced dramatically, “We have the Codex.”

  Josh felt the crackle of parchment under his T-shirt. What would happen to him if they knew he had the two missing pages? Would they still Awaken him?

  At the mention of the Codex, the Elder’s head snapped toward Dee, eyes blazing, wisps of red smoke drifting from the slit in the helm.

  “The prophecy is almost fulfilled,” Dee continued quickly. “Soon we will make the Final Summoning. Soon we will free the Lost Elders and return them to their rightful place as rulers of the world. Soon we will return the world to the paradise it once was.”

  With the sound of grinding stone, Mars swung his legs off the plinth and turned so that he was sitting facing the boy. Josh noticed that every movement sent tiny flakes of what looked like stone skin onto the ground.

  Dee’s voice rose almost to a shout. “And the first prophecy of the Codex has come to pass. We have found the two that are one. We have found the twins of legend.” He waved a hand toward Josh. “This humani possesses an aura of pure gold; his twin sister’s aura is unblemished silver.”

  Mars tilted his head to look at Josh again and then stretched out a gloved hand. It was still a foot and a half away from the boy’s shoulder when his aura bloomed silently around him, the bright glow lighting up the interior of the chamber, turning the polished bone walls golden, sending Phobos and Deimos scuttling for shelter in the deepest shadows behind the plinth. The dry air was suddenly rich with the scent of orange.

  Squinting against the glow given off by his own skin, feeling the hair on his head standing up, crackling with static, Josh watched in awe as the hardened crust began to fall away from Mars’s fingertips to reveal deeply tanned, muscled flesh beneath. The god’s own aura flared, outlining the statue in a thick purple-red mist and his healthy skin started to glow an angry red as tiny sparks curled off the aura and stuck to his flesh, quickly cooling and coating it in a gray-white stonelike scab. Josh frowned; it looked as if the god’s aura was hardening into a thick shell around him, slowly turning him to stone again.

  “The girl’s powers have been Awakened,” Dee continued, his voice echoing in the chamber. “The boy’s have not. If we are to succeed, if we are to bring back the Elders, this boy’s powers must be Awakened. Mars Ultor, will you Awaken the boy?”

  The god planted his tall broadsword on the ground, the point sinking easily into the bone floor, wrapped both hands around the hilt and leaned forward to look at Josh.

  Show no fear and don’t panic. Josh straightened and stood tall, then stared directly into the narrow rectangular opening in the stone helm. For the space of a single heartbeat, he thought he caught a flash of brilliantly bright blue eyes in the shadows, before they turned red and glowing again. Josh’s aura faded to a dull glow and the two satyrs immediately crept forward, climbing onto the plinth to peer around the god at the boy. The hunger in their eyes was unmistakable now.

  “Twins.”

  It took Josh a moment to realize that Mars had spoken. The god’s voice was surprisingly soft and sounded incredibly weary. “Twins?” The question in his voice was unmistakable.

  “Y-yes,” Josh stammered. “I have a twin sister, Sophie.”

  “I had twin boys once…a long time ago,” Mars said, his voice lost and distant. The red glow inside his helm faded and blue eyes blinked again. “Good boys, fine boys,” he added, and Josh was unsure whom he was speaking to. “Who is the elder?” he asked. “You or your sister?”

  “Sophie,” Josh said, lips curling in a sudden smile at the thought of his sister. “But only by twenty-eight seconds.”

  “And do you love your sister?” Mars asked.

  Taken by surprise, Josh said, “Yes…well, I mean, yes, of course I do. She’s my twin.”

  Mars nodded. “Romulus, my younger boy, said that too. He swore to me that he loved his brother, Remus. And then he killed him.”

  The bone chamber fell deathly silent.

  Looking into the helmet, Josh saw Mars Ultor’s eyes turn blue and wet, and he felt his own eyes fill with tears in sympathy. Then the god’s tears hissed to steam as his eyes blazed red again. “I had Awakened my sons’ auras, gave them access to powers and abilities beyond those of the humani. All their senses and emotions were heightened…including the emotions of hate, fear and love.” He paused, and then added, “They had been close—so close—until I Awakened their senses. That destroyed them.” There was another, longer pause. “Perhaps it would be better if I did not Awaken you. For your own sake and the sake of your sister.”

  Josh blinked in surprise and looked over his shoulder at Dee and Machiavelli. The Italian’s face was impassive, but Dee looked as stunned as Josh felt. Was Mars refusing to Awaken him?

  “Lord Mars,” the Magician began, “the boy must be Awakened….”

  “It will be his choice,” Mars said mildly.

  “I demand—”

  The glow within the god’s helm turned incandescent. “You demand!”

  “In my master’s name, of course,” Dee said quickly. “My master demands—”

  “Your master can make no demands of me, Magician,” Mars whispered. “And if you speak again,” he added, “I will loose my companions on you.” Phobos and Deimos clambered over the god’s shoulders to peer at Dee. They were both drooling. “It is a terrible death.” He looked back at Josh. “This is your choice and yours alone. I can Awaken your powers. I can make you powerful. Dangerously powerful.” Red eyes blazed brightly, the centers burning yellow hot. “Is this what you want?”

  “Yes,” Josh said without hesitation.

  “There is a price, for everything has a price.”

  “I’ll pay it,” Josh said immediately, though he had no idea what that payment might be.

  Mars nodded his great head, stone cracking and grinding. “A good response, the correct response. Asking me about the price would have been a mistake.”

  Phobos and Deimos cackled in what Josh assumed was a laugh, and he immediately knew that others had paid the price for trying to negotiate with the Sleeping God.

  “There will come a time when I will remind you that you are in debt to me.” The god looked over Josh’s head. “Who will mentor the boy?”

  “I will,” Dee and Machiavelli said simultaneously.

  Josh turned to look at the two immortals, surprised by their response. Of the two, he thought he would prefer to be mentored by Machiavelli.

  “Magician, he is yours,” Mars said after a moment’s consideration. “I can read your intent and your motives clearly. You intend to use the boy to bring back the Elders; I have no doubt of that. But you…,” he added, his head swiveling to look at Machiavelli. “I cannot read your aura; I do not know what you want. Perhaps because you have not yet decided.”

  Rocks snapped and creaked as the god stood. He was at least seven feet tall, his helmeted head almost brushing the ceiling. “Kneel,” he said to Josh, who folded to his knees. Mars tugged his huge sword free from the floor and spun it until it was directly in front of the boy’s face. Josh went crosseyed looking at the blade. It was so close that he could see where the edge was chipped and pitted and was able to make out the faintest trace of a spiraling pattern down the center of the sword.

  “What are your clan name and your parents’ names?”

  Josh’s mouth was so dry he could bare
ly speak. “The clan name? Oh, the family name is Newman. My father is Richard and my mother is Sara.” He had a sudden memory of Hekate asking Sophie the same questions. It had been only a couple of days ago, and yet it felt like a lifetime.

  The timbre of the god’s voice changed, becoming stronger, loud enough for Josh to feel the vibrations in his bones. “Josh, son of Richard and Sara of the Clan Newman, of the race humani, I will grant you an Awakening. You have acknowledged that this is no gift and there will be a price to pay. If you do not pay it, I will destroy you and everything you hold dear.”

  “I’ll pay,” Josh said thickly, blood thundering in his head, adrenaline coursing through his body.

  “I know you will.” The huge sword moved, first touching Josh’s right shoulder, then his left before moving back to his right. The faintest outline of his aura winked into existence around his body. Wisps of gold smoke started to curl off his blond hair, and the scent of citrus grew stronger. “Hence-forth you will see with acuity….”

  Josh’s bright blue eyes turned into solid gold discs. Immediately, tears gathered and ran down his face. They were the color and texture of liquid gold.

  “You will hear with clarity….”

  Smoke coiled from the boy’s ears.

  “You will taste with purity….”

  Josh opened his mouth and coughed. A puff of saffron-colored mist appeared, and tiny amber sparks danced between his tongue and teeth.

  “You will touch with sensitivity….”

  The boy brought his hands up to his face. They were glowing so brightly that they were almost transparent. Sparks leapt and curled between each finger, and his badly chewed fingernails were polished mirrors.

  “You will smell with intensity….”

  Josh’s head was almost completely enveloped in golden smoke now. It trickled from his nostrils, making it look as if he were breathing fire. His aura had thickened, solidified around his shoulders and across his chest, becoming shiny and reflective.