regretful.
John, Machiavelli barked urgently, swiveling in the seat to look at the
English Magician. What have you done?
I ve sent the Morrigan to Alcatraz. Perenelle will not see another dawn.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
He didn't know how far he d run, miles probably but he knew that he shouldn't
have been able to do it. He d sprinted the entire length of the last
street he d thought the street sign said Rue de Marignan without any effort,
and now, swinging left onto the Avenue Montaigne, he wasn't even breathless.
It was the sword.
He d felt it buzz and hum in his hands as he d run, heard it whisper and sigh
what sounded like vague promises. When he held it directly in front of him,
toward the monster, the whispers grew louder and it visibly trembled in his
hand. When he moved it away, they faded.
The sword was drawing him toward the creature.
Following the monster s trail of destruction down the narrow street, racing
past confused, shocked and horrified Parisians, Josh found strange and
disturbing thoughts flickering at the very edges of his consciousness:
he was in a world without land, swimming in an ocean vast enough to swallow
whole planets, filled with creatures that made the monster he was chasing
look tiny .
he was dangling high in the air, wrapped in thick roots that bit into his
flesh, looking down over a blasted, fiery wasteland .
he was lost and confused, in a place filled with small buildings and even
tinier creatures, and he was in pain, an incredible fire searing the base of
his spine .
he was
The name snapped into his consciousness, and the shock that he was somehow
experiencing the monster s thoughts almost stopped him in his tracks. He knew
the phenomenon had to be connected to the sword. Earlier, when the creature s
tongue had touched the blade, he d glimpsed a snapshot of an alien world,
shocking images of a bizarre landscape, and now, having stabbed the creature
again, he caught hints of a life completely beyond his experience.
It dawned on him that he was seeing what the creature Nidhogg had seen at
some time in the past. He was experiencing what it was feeling now.
It had to be connected to the sword.
And if this was Excalibur s twin, Josh suddenly wondered, then did
ancient weapon also transfer feelings, emotions, and impressions when it was
used? What had Dee felt when he had plunged Excalibur into the ancient
Yggdrasill? What sights had he seen, what had he experienced and learned?
Josh found himself wondering if that was the real reason Dee had destroyed
the Yggdrasill: had he killed it to experience the incredible knowledge it
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
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
