The Warlock (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel #5) (16 page)

There was a sensation deep in their bones, a quivering vibration, and then it was as if they fell upward into the white wispy clouds. The craft dipped, the clouds spun and then darted by—the only indication that they were moving.

“And what if Marethyu chooses not to answer you?” Joan asked quietly. “You will note that our doggy friends were careful to render him unconscious from a distance. Obviously they fear him and his powers.”

“He’ll answer me,” Scathach said confidently. “I can be very persuasive.”

“I know you can.” Joan of Arc closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. She laughed quietly, ignoring the anpu’s glares. “I was just thinking: we’ve not had a real adventure in such a long time.” She sighed. “It’ll be just like the old days.”

Scathach grunted a laugh. She was sure that this would be like no other adventure. She and Joan had fought—either singly or together—to save kingdoms and even empires, to restore princes and prevent wars, but now the stakes were so much higher. If they believed Marethyu, then they were fighting for the future of not only the human race, but all the races in all the various and myriad Shadowrealms.

Joan squirmed on the seat, trying to get comfortable.
“When Francis and I were in India last year, we saw pictures of these flying craft in ancient manuscripts and carved into temples. Francis told me that there were many stories of flying ships in the ancient Indian epics.”

“It’s true,” Scathach said. “And they also turn up in Babylonian and Egyptian legends. The handful of vimanas that were not on Danu Talis when it sank escaped the destruction. My parents had one,” she continued, “though it was nothing like this. By the time I was old enough to fly it, our machine was incredibly old and had been repaired and patched so often it no longer resembled its original state. It could barely get off the ground.” She shook her head, smiling at the memory. “My father once told me that he had watched the skies darken with fighting vimanas when the fleet went to fight the last of the Earthlords.…”

Scathach’s voice trailed away. She rarely spoke of her parents, and never voluntarily. She considered herself a loner, and she had been an outcast for such a long time. But she had family—a sister in the Earth Shadowrealm she never saw, and her parents and brother lived in a distant Shadowrealm that was modeled after the lost world of Danu Talis. Now she had gone back ten thousand years, and it was odd to think that—at this very moment—her parents were alive and living in the city directly below her. The thought struck her an almost physical blow that took her breath away.

And she suddenly found that she would like to see them. No, more than that. She needed to know what they had been like before she and her sister had been born. Scathach and
Aoife’s parents had been made bitter and angry by the destruction of their world. They had grown up in a time where they were the undisputed masters. All of that had ended when the island sank. It had been immediately apparent even in the hours just following the destruction of Danu Talis that there would no longer be masters and servants, Great Elders and Elders. There would simply be survivors.

Growing up, Scathach and her sister had quickly realized that their parents resented them, since they had been born after the sinking of the island. The twin girls were the first of what would later be called the Next Generation. Later, much, much later, Aoife and Scathach had come to believe that their parents were ashamed of them. The girls had been brought up knowing that their elder brother, with his ashen skin and bright red hair, born on Danu Talis, was their parents’ favorite. Unlike the twins, he was an Elder.

Scathach felt her stomach lurch as the craft dipped, falling toward the city.

She wanted to see them. Even if only for a moment. She wanted to stand and watch her mother, father and brother as they had been before the island sank. Because in all the millennia she had known them, she had never once seen them laugh or smile, and when they spoke of others—even Elders—it was always with bitterness. That anger had manifested itself on their bodies, turning them hunched, twisted and ugly. Just for a single instant, Scathach wanted to see them when they were young and beautiful. She needed to know if they had ever been happy.

Abruptly it grew dark. Scathach and Joan watched jagged
black mountains appear overhead and stretch tall as the sky shrank to an irregular circle of blue.

“We’re falling into something …,” Scathach began, and then she caught a hint of sulfur. She breathed deeply, trying to isolate the odor from the unwashed-dog scent of the anpu and the tart metallic tang of the vimana.

“I can smell it too,” Joan said. She laughed shakily. “Sulfur—reminds me of Dee.”

The flying disc came to a rocking halt and the scarred anpu appeared over Scathach. It waved a curved metal kopesh in front of her face as it carefully undid the straps holding her down with its left hand. Scathach’s green eyes narrowed as she looked at the weapon. It brought back bitter memories: a lifetime ago she had trained the boy-king Tutankhamen how to fight with two of the lethal sickle-swords. Years later, she’d discovered that he had been buried with the matched blades she’d given him.

“Scatty …,” Joan began, the tiniest thread of panic in her voice. She twisted her head to watch the Warrior come to her feet. “Where are we?”

“Prison.” Scatty turned and smiled. “And you do know that there’s not a prison in the world that can hold me,” she said in rapid French.

The top of the vimana popped up and retracted and the stench of sulfur was so strong it took their breath away. A blast of heat seared their skin and they were enveloped in a rumbling, grinding, roaring noise.

“I’ve got a feeling this is not your average prison,” Joan called as Scatty was urged up to the edge of the craft.

The anpu prodded her in the back and the Shadow turned and snarled, her mouth suddenly full of her vampire teeth. The anpu scrambled back. Just before she stepped off the craft, Scathach looked down, and when she turned back to her friend, tiny dots of reflected fire danced in her eyes. “You could say that—we’re in the mouth of an active volcano.”

ands close to their sides, the Nereids dived in and out of the water like a school of dolphins.

“What’s the problem?” Josh demanded. “I can use my aura and just …”

“… just reveal our location to everyone,” Dee snapped.

“No, I forbid it.”

“Well, if you have a genius plan, now’s the time to reveal it,” Josh said nervously. The Nereids were closer now, long green hair streaming behind them. Some looked like astonishingly beautiful young women, but others had fins and claws and were more fish or crab than human. Their mouths were all full of ragged needle-pointed teeth. They reminded him of piranhas.

“Drive through them,” Dee snapped. “Full speed.”

“That’s the plan?” Josh asked.

“Do you have a better one?” Dee’s English accent had
become pronounced, and the small man’s hands were clenching and unclenching into fists.

Josh pushed the throttle; the engine roared and the heavy powerboat surged forward, nose tilting upward. He turned the wheel and the boat plowed straight into the school of Nereids … who simply parted smoothly around it, then reached out to try and catch hold of the boat. Claws scraped along the sides, and two actually grabbed the low metal railing and attempted to pull themselves aboard.

“More power!” Dee snarled. He grabbed a length of rope and used it to whip the sea creatures off the side of the craft. They fell back into the water with high-pitched, almost delicate squeals that sounded like children’s laughter. There was a thump as one of them suddenly leapt from the water and landed in the back of the boat, savage mouth snapping closed inches from Dee’s ankle. The doctor hopped back out of range, caught the Nereid by the tail and flung it overboard again. He rubbed his hands on the legs of his trousers, leaving a scattering of shining scales on the dark cloth. “I hate Nereids,” he muttered.

“Doctor …,” Josh shouted. “Hang on!” A Nereid had leapt onto the prow directly in front of him and was wriggling toward him, two-inch-long razor-sharp fingernails digging into the fiberglass hull. Josh jerked the wheel to one side and the speedboat tilted to almost a forty-five-degree angle. The creature shrieked and started to slide off the boat, claws leaving long ragged gouges in the hull. It clung on for a moment, then splashed into the bay.

“Faster!” Dee shouted.

“It doesn’t go any faster,” Josh said. The boat was bouncing up and down, slamming into waves with enough force to jar him out of his seat. His jaw ached and his head throbbed, salt water stung his eyes and crusted on his lips, and although he didn’t normally suffer from seasickness, he knew he was going to throw up at any moment.

Suddenly the boat gave a lurch and slowed as if it had hit a sandbank. The engine screamed and howled, but the craft barely moved. Josh risked a glance over his shoulder. Dozens of Nereids were clustered around the boat, clinging to the sides, holding on to it, dragging it down into the sea. Waves slopped over the edges and water pooled in the bottom of the craft. And looking at the hungry eyes and needle teeth of the Nereids, Josh knew that neither he nor Dee would survive for more than a minute in the water.

Dee stood behind Josh, lashing out with the coil of rope, but the Nereids were too fast for him, and not one blow landed on the creatures. He struck out at one as she leapt out of the water. She balanced on her tail and bit at the rope as it lashed past her face, neatly severing it in two.

“Use your aura or we’re dead!” Josh screamed.

“If I use my aura, then we
are
dead!”

“And if you don’t use your aura, we’re going to be fish food in a few minutes.” The young man gritted his teeth in frustration. “We need to do something.…”

“A
strategy
,” Dee said, gently emphasizing the word.

Josh nodded. “A strategy,” he began, but even as he was saying the words, he caught a flickering image that was almost a memory, but not
his
memory …

… of an army in the lacquered armor of Japan, trapped, surrounded and outnumbered …

… of a warrior in leather and chain mail, head encased in a metal helmet, alone on a bridge facing off against an army that had never been human …

… of a trio of lightly armed sailing ships surrounded by a huge fleet …

And in every case the underdog had triumphed because … because they had a strategy.

“The spare fuel tanks,” Josh yelled. “Is there gas in them?”

Dee lashed out with the rope whip at a Nereid with two pincers instead of hands. Her claws snapped and another chunk of rope fell away as she dropped back into the water. The Magician grabbed a plastic fuel tank and shook it. Liquid sloshed inside. “Half full. Maybe more.” He shook a second container. “This one’s full.”

“Hang on,” Josh said. “We’re turning.” Hauling the wheel to starboard, he aimed the boat away from the fast-approaching island and began to make a huge circle in the water. The confused Nereids were briefly left behind. “Empty them overboard,” Josh commanded. “But not all at once. Spill it out slowly.”

Without comment, the doctor pulled the cap off the first can and flung it away. The stink of diesel fuel was overpowering, and he coughed, eyes watering. Then he rested the can against the side of the boat and allowed the gas to spill onto the surface of the bay.

Josh was abruptly conscious that he seemed to be seeing everything in slow motion. He saw the Nereids move
through the water and knew how they were going to position themselves. He watched a wave break against the bow of the boat and he was able to count the individual water droplets as they spun past his face.

A spectacularly ugly Nereid—more fish than human—reared up in front of him. He saw her ridged stomach muscles flatten and knew that beneath the water, her enormous fish tail would be twitching furiously, readying to propel her up into the air. She was going to land on the prow of the boat and then leap for his throat. Josh spun the wheel at the precise moment that the Nereid launched herself into the air. She missed the boat by inches and sank wordlessly back beneath the waves.