The Magician

CHAPTER THIRTY

S ophie flew down the stairs, sparks and streamers of blue fire trailing from

her outstretched fingers.

She d been standing in the bathroom brushing her teeth when the entire house

had shaken. She d heard the rumbling crash of bricks, which had been followed

a heartbeat later by her brother s scream. It had ripped through the silent

house and was the most terrifying sound she had ever heard.

She was running down the corridor past Flamel s room when the door opened.

For a single instant she almost didn't recognize the confused-looking old man

standing in the doorway. The rings under his eyes were so dark they looked

like bruises, and his skin was an unhealthy yellowish hue. What s

happening? he mumbled, but Sophie hurried past: she had no answers for him.

All she knew was that her brother was downstairs.

And then the entire house shook again.

She felt the vibration through the floors and walls. All the pictures on the

wall to her left shifted and tilted off center.

Terrified, Sophie raced down the stairs to the first floor just as a bedroom

door opened and Joan appeared. One moment the small woman was wearing shiny

blue-green satin pajamas and the next she was clad in full metal armor, a

long broad-bladed sword in her gloved hands. Get back, Joan snapped, her

French accent pronounced.

No, Sophie shouted. It s Josh he s in trouble!

Joan fell into step beside her, armor clinking and rasping. OK then, but

stay behind me and to my right, so I always know where you are, Joan

commanded. Did you see Nicholas?

He s awake. But he looked sick.

Exhaustion. He daren t try any more magic in his condition. It could kill

him.

Where s Francis?

Probably in the attic. But the room is soundproofed and he ll have his

headphones on and the bass pumped up; I doubt he s heard anything.

I m sure he felt the house shake.

Probably thought it was a good bass line.

I don't know where Scatty is, Sophie said. She was fighting hard to keep

the bubbling panic inside from overwhelming her.

With any luck, she s downstairs in the kitchen with Josh. If she is, then

he s OK, Joan added. Now follow me. Holding the sword upright in both

hands, the woman moved cautiously down the last flight of stairs and stepped

into the broad marbled hallway at the front of the house. She stopped so

suddenly that Sophie almost walked into her. Joan pointed toward the front

door. Sophie spotted the ghostly white shape behind the stained-glass panels,

and then there was a crunching snap and the head of an axe appeared through

the door. Then, with a crack, the front door was smashed open in a shower of

wood and glass fragments.

Two figures stepped into the hallway.

In the light of the ornate crystal chandelier, Sophie saw that they were

young women in white chain-mail armor, their faces hidden behind helmets, one

wielding a sword and an axe, the other carrying a sword and a spear. She

reacted instinctively. Gripping her right wrist with her left hand, she

splayed open her fingers, palm outward. Crackling blue-green flames splashed

across the floor directly in front of the two girls, shooting upward in a

solid sheet of wavering emerald fire.

The women stepped through the flames without even pausing but stopped when

they spotted Joan in her armor. They looked at one another, obviously

confused. You re not the silver humani. Who are you? one demanded.

This is my house, and I think that s my question, Joan said grimly. She

turned sideways, left shoulder toward the women, holding her sword in both

hands, the point moving in a slow figure eight between the warriors.

Stand aside. We have no argument with you, one said.

Joan lifted the sword, bringing the hilt close to her face, the tip of the

longsword pointing straight up. You come into my home and tell me to stand

aside, she said incredulously. Who are you what are you? she demanded.

We are the Disir, the woman with the sword and spear said softly. We are

here for Scathach. Our argument is only with her. But do not stand in our way

or it will become your argument.

The Shadow is my friend, Joan said.

Then that makes you our enemy.

Without warning, the Valkyries attacked together, one lunging with sword and

spear, the other with sword and axe. Joan s heavy blade shifted, metal

clanging, the movement almost too fast to see as she blocked sword thrusts,

turned aside the axe and batted down the spear.

The Disir backed away and spread out until they were standing on either side

of Joan. She had to keep turning her head to be able to watch them both.

You fight well.

Joan s lips pulled away from her teeth in a savage smile. I was taught by

the best. Scathach herself trained me.

I thought I recognized the style, the second Disir said.

Only Joan s gray eyes moved as she tracked the two warriors. I didn't think

I had a style.

Neither has Scathach.

Who are you? the Disir on the right asked. In my lifetime I ve known only

a handful who could stand against us. And none of them were humani.

I am Joan of Arc, she replied simply.

Never heard of you, the Disir said, and while she was speaking, her sister,

standing to Joan s left, drew back her arm, poised to throw the spear

The weapon burst into white-hot flames.

With a savage howl, the Disir flung the spear to one side; by the time it hit

the ground, the wooden shaft was little more than ash and the wickedly

pointed metal head was melting into a bubbling puddle.

Standing on the bottom step, Sophie blinked in surprise. She hadn't known she

could do that.

The Disir to Joan s right darted forward, sword and axe weaving a deadly

humming pattern in the air before her, battering at Joan s sword, driving her

back under the vicious onslaught.

The second Disir rounded on Sophie.

Setting the spear shaft alight and melting the head had exhausted her, and

she slumped against the banister. But she needed to help Joan; she needed to

get to Josh. Pressing hard on the underside of her wrist, Sophie attempted to

call upon her Fire magic. Smoke curled from her hand, but there was no fire.

The Disir strode forward until she was standing directly in front of the

girl. Sophie was standing on a step, and the girls faces were almost level.

So, you are the silver humani the English Magician wants so desperately.

Behind her metal mask, the Valkyrie s violet eyes were contemptuous.

Drawing in a deep shuddering breath, Sophie straightened. She stretched out

both arms, fingers closed into tight fists. Closing her eyes, breathing

deeply, trying to calm her thundering heart, she visualized gloves of flame;

she saw herself bringing her hands together, shaping a ball of fire in her

fists like dough and then flinging it at the figure standing before her. But

when she opened her eyes, only the merest hints of gossamer blue flames

danced over her flesh. She clapped her hands together and sparks danced

harmlessly across the warrior s chain mail.

The Disir tapped her sword against her gloved hand. Your petty fire tricks

do not impress me.

A tremendous crash from the kitchen shook the house again. The ornate

chandelier over the center of the hallway started to sway to and fro,

tinkling musically as the shadows danced.

Josh, Sophie whispered. Her fear turned to anger: this creature was

preventing her from getting to her brother. And the anger gave her strength.

Remembering what Saint-Germain had done on the roof, the girl pointed her

index finger at the warrior and unleashed her rage in a single focused beam.

A dirty yellow-black spear of solid fire leapt from Sophie s finger and

exploded against the Disir s chain mail. Fire splashed all over the warrior,

and the force of the blow drove her to her knees. She shouted an

incomprehensible word that sounded like a wolf s howl.

Across the hall, Joan took advantage of the distraction and pressed her

attacker hard, pushing her back toward the gaping ruin of a door. The two

women were evenly matched, and while Joan s sword was longer and heavier than

her opponent s, the Disir had the advantage of wielding two weapons. In

addition, it had been a long time since Joan had worn armor and fought with a

sword. She could feel the burn in the muscles of her shoulders, and her hips

and knees were aching from the weight of the metal she was carrying. She had

to finish this.

The fallen Valkyrie climbed to her feet in front of Sophie. The front of her

chain mail had taken the full force of the fire bolt, and the links had

melted and run like softened wax. The warrior grabbed a handful of the mail

and ripped it away from her body, flinging it aside. The plain white robe

underneath was scorched and blackened, with sparkling chunks of metal melted

into the cloth. Little girl, the Disir whispered, I am going to teach you

never to play with fire.