Michael Scott - The Necromancer

The figure held up his left arm, tilting the hook so that it caught the sunlight. “If we had, I am sure you would have remembered this.”

“Still, there is something about you…,” Shakespeare said, squinting hard at the man. “I feel I should know you.”

The hooded man turned to Saint-Germain. “However, we have met before. It is good to see you again. You have prospered in the centuries since our last encounter.”

“All thanks to you.” Saint-Germain stepped forward and bowed. “It has just occurred to me that this is all your doing. You planned this. In fact, I think you’ve been planning this for a long time, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” the man said, surprising the others. “For a very long time.”

“Flamel said he met you when he was traveling across Europe looking for someone to translate the Codex.”

The hooded man bowed. “I met him and Mistress Perenelle briefly.”

“And you taught me how to master the Magic of Fire.”

“It was necessary. If I had not taught you what I knew, then sooner or later your own Fire magic would have consumed you. I needed to keep you alive.”

“I’m grateful,” Saint-Germain said.

The hooded man looked at each of them in turn. “I have worked hard to keep all of you alive and in good health-even you, Scathach,” he added. “I have been waiting ten thousand years for this day to come.”

“Ten thousand years?” Shakespeare asked.

“Since the Fall of Danu Talis.”

“You were on the island?” Scathach breathed.

“Yes, I was. And so were you, Scathach, and you too, Palamedes, and you, Shakespeare and Saint-Germain and Joan. You were all there. You went to stand and fight with the original twins.”

There was a long silence, when even the sounds of the landscape faded to stillness.

Finally, Scathach shook her head. “That’s impossible. If I was on Danu Talis in the past, why don’t I remember?”

“Because you’ve not been there yet,” he said simply. He slid off the rock and stood before them. He was slightly taller than Saint-Germain, though not as tall as Palamedes. “I’ve gathered you here to take you back to Danu Talis with me. The twins need warriors they can trust. Come now, there is little time to waste.”

“Just like that?” Palamedes demanded. “You cannot expect us to travel into the past and fight just because you say so. Why should we fight for you?”

“You are not fighting for me,” the hooded man said impatiently. “You are fighting for the continued existence of the human race. If you choose not to come, then Danu Talis will not sink and the creatures you know as humani will never rise to civilization. You have all in your differing ways been champions of the humani. It is time to champion their cause again.”

“But we cannot go with you, not now,” Saint-Germain said. “We’ve got to get back to our own time.”

Joan nodded. “What about Nicholas and Perenelle and the creatures on Alcatraz that Dee and Machiavelli are about to release into the city? We need to fight with the Flamels.”

The hooded man shook his head. “If we fail and Danu Talis is not destroyed, then nothing else matters.”

“A moment,” Shakespeare said. “You said Danu Talis has to fall.”

“Of course. If the island is not destroyed, then there is no human history. The Elders will remain and the world you know will never have existed.”

“But Nicholas and Perenelle…,” Joan began.

“I am afraid that the Flamels and the twins are on their own. You cannot help them. But you can help fight for an entire species. If you do not, there really is no reason to worry about the Flamels-for they will not exist.”

The group was silent for a moment, trying to piece together what the man was saying. Danu Talis hadn’t fallen yet because there had been no battle yet. And they themselves were the warriors who would fight the battle. A group brought together from the future to shape the events of the past.

“What if we refuse?” Saint-Germain asked. “Can you send us back to our own world? To Paris, Sherwood Forest or San Francisco?”

“No. It took an enormous expenditure of power to create this Pleistocene Shadowrealm; I have neither the power nor the ability to send you back to your own worlds. As soon as I leave the world, it will start to decay and die.”

“So we really do not have much choice, then, do we,” Saint-Germain said.

“There are always choices,” the hooded man said quietly. “Some are just harder to make than others. You can come with me and live, or stay here and die.”

“Those are not great choices,” Palamedes said.

“They are the only choices you have.”

“And on Danu Talis, we must fight?” the knight asked.

“Yes. You will fight-in the biggest battle you’ve ever fought.”

Palamedes looked over at the Bard, and Shakespeare smiled and nodded. “I’ve always wanted to see a mythical land. I’ve got this idea for a play-all it needs is a setting…”

“And I think I would like to see my birthplace before it sank,” Scatty said, a strange note of urgency in her voice. She looked even paler than usual.

The hooded man’s eyes crinkled again. “Yes. And you might get to see your parents.”

The Shadow took a step back, suddenly looking startled. That was exactly the thought that had been in her head.

“I have a question,” Joan said quietly, and everyone turned to look at her. “What is your name? You know us-indeed, you seem very familiar with us-but we’ve no idea who you are.”

The hooded man nodded. “I have had many names through the centuries, but the one I prefer is the one I was first called on Danu Talis: Marethyu.”

Scathach gasped and the immortal humans turned to her. Joan laid a hand on her friend’s arm. “What does it mean?” She glanced over her shoulder at the hooded man.

“Tell them,” he said to the Shadow.

“In the language of Danu Talis, it means ‘death.’”

WEDNESDAY, 6th June

Sophie Newman knew the moment she awoke in the tiny cramped bedroom that something was wrong. There was a vague fluttering in the pit of her stomach and a dull ache at the back of her head, and she was painfully aware that her heart was pounding. Wrapping her arms tightly around her chest, she attempted to control her suddenly frantic breathing. What was happening to her: was this a panic attack? She’d never had one before, but her friend Elle in New York has them all the time. Sophie felt light-headed and just a little sick, and when she rolled out of bed and came to her feet, a wave of dizziness washed over her.

Stepping out into the hallway, she stopped and listened carefully. The little guesthouse was quiet. And it felt empty. With her left hand brushing the wall, she walked down the corridor into the kitchen. The night outside had started to pale toward dawn. Perry had told her that Prometheus kept his Shadowrealm in synch with earth time and it had a regular cycle of day and night.

The crystal skull sat in the center of the kitchen table.

Last night, she’d watched the Flamels put their hands on it, allowing their auras to sink into it. The crystal had glowed dully, the hint of ice-white, the merest suggestion of pale green winking deep within its core, but nothing else had happened, and the effort had exhausted Nicholas.

Sophie hurried past it. She didn’t see the crystal as it pulsed silver and the eye sockets darkened, filling with shadow. The light faded as she moved away from the table and walked to the couch, where Josh had spent the night.

But the couch was empty.

“Josh?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Maybe he was in the bathroom, or he’d probably gone up to the main house looking for food. Yet even as she was making excuses, she knew they weren’t true. When Josh had returned after learning the Magic of Fire from Prometheus, he had been ashen-faced, staggering with exhaustion. He’d fallen sound asleep the moment he’d crawled onto the couch.