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
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
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
