The Magician

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

I s 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.