Michael Scott - The Sorceress

"Look for the third perfect trilithon to the left," Flamel whispered.

"The third what?" Josh asked, confused.

"Trilithon. Two uprights and a lintel," Shakespeare explained. "Greek for 'three stones.'"

"I knew that… I think," Josh whispered. He counted. "This one," he said decisively, pointing. "Now what?"

"Help me," Nicholas said.

Shakespeare caught the Alchemyst and half carried him to the two huge uprights. Pushing into the narrow gap between the stones, Nicholas put a hand on each, reaching as high as he could, then stretched his legs wide until he had assumed an X shape in the middle of the stone.

The faintest hint of mint touched the cold night air.

A huge bear reared up, claws slashing toward the Alchemyst's head. And then the creature was jerked back by the Saracen Knight and tossed to the Gabriel Hounds. They fell on it with savage howls. Dust billowed.

A trio of wolves raced toward Flamel. Josh caught one with the shamshir sword and Gabriel brought down another. Josh sliced out at the third wolf and it ducked the blow, but in avoiding the blade it brushed against the tall stone-and crumbled to powder.

Josh suddenly realized that there were less than a handful of Gabriel Hounds still alive and they were being driven back into the circle of standing stones. A skeletal horse ridden by a headless horseman reared up, flailing hooves catching one of the hounds, sending it crashing back onto a stone. The hound vanished, leaving only a dusty outline in the air.

"Alchemyst," Shakespeare warned, "do something."

Nicholas slumped to the ground. "I cannot."

"Are you sure it's the right gate?" Josh asked.

"I'm sure. I've nothing left." He looked up at the twins, and for an instant Josh thought he saw something in the immortal's eyes. "Sophie, Josh, you will have to do it."

"The girl is drained," the Bard said quickly. "Use her and she will burst aflame."

Nicholas reached out and took Josh's hand, pulling him forward. "Then it will have to be you."

"Me? But I'm…"

"You're the only one with the aura to do this."

"What's the alternative?" Josh asked. He had the distinct impression that this was what the Alchemyst had planned all along. Flamel had never had the power to activate the gate.

"There is none." The Alchemyst indicated the creatures crowding just outside the stones. Then he pointed to the heavens. A spotlight was picking its way across the landscape toward them. There were two others close behind. "Police helicopters," he said. "They'll be here in minutes."

Josh handed Flamel the battered and slightly bent shamshir sword. "What do I do?"

"Stand between the uprights with your arms and legs outstretched. Visualize your aura flowing out of your body into the stones. That should be enough to activate them."

"And be quick about it," Shakespeare said. Less than half a dozen Gabriel Hounds remained, and Palamedes was now cut off, surrounded by bogmen who flailed at him with flint daggers that screamed and struck sparks from his armor. Wolves and cats prowled just outside the stone circle.

"Let me help my brother," Sophie whispered.

"No," Shakespeare said. "It's too dangerous."

Josh's aura started to steam the moment he squeezed between the stones, lifting off his flesh like golden smoke. Reaching out, he placed his palms flat against the smooth sandstone and the fragrance of oranges grew stronger.

The smell sent the creatures outside the circle into a frenzy. They redoubled their efforts to get to the twins. Shakespeare and Gabriel took up positions on either side of the stone, desperately trying to keep them away from Josh.

Josh stretched his left foot to touch one upright, and as soon as his right foot touched the other upright stone, the voices he'd been hearing in his head from the moment he had stepped into the ancient circle clarified. He suddenly realized why they had sounded so familiar. They were all one voice-the voice of Clarent. He realized then that Clarent and Excalibur had been shaped from the same igneous rock as the great blue stones that had once composed the ancient circle. He saw the faces, both human and inhuman, and some that were a terrible mixture of both, of the original creators of the Henge. Stonehenge was not five thousand years old; it was older than that, much, much older. He glimpsed Cernunnos, shining and beautiful, without its horns, dressed entirely in white, standing in the center of the circle, a simple undistinguished sword held high in both hands.

But while the pillar to Josh's left crackled and blazed with golden light, the right pillar remained dark.

Flamel cut down a boar that had broken through the circle. He turned to Sophie. "You need to help your brother."

The girl was so exhausted she could barely stand. She looked at the Alchemyst, trying to shape words in her head. "But Will said if I use any more of my aura, I could burst into flames."

"And if the gate doesn't open, then we're all dead," Flamel snarled. Catching Sophie by the shoulder, he propelled her toward the stone. She stumbled on the uneven ground, tripped and fell forward, arms outstretched… and her fingertips brushed the stone. There was a burst of vanilla, and then the stone started to glow. Muted silver mist curled off the stone and then it lit up from within, until the pillars of the trilithon throbbed gold and silver, the lintel over them glowing orange.

It was night on Salisbury Plain, but between the stones, a lush sunlit hillside appeared.

Josh stared in wonder at the scene. He could actually smell grass and greenery, feel summer heat on his face and taste the faintest hint of salt in the air. He turned his head; behind him it was night, stars high in the heavens; before him it was day. "Where?" he whispered.

"Mount Tamalpais," Flamel said triumphantly. Pulling Sophie to her feet, he dragged her toward the opening and the light. The moment her fingertips left the pillar, it started to fade.

"Go," Shakespeare said. "Go now…"

"Tell Palamedes-"

"I know. Get out of here. Now."

"What a play you would have got out of this!" the Alchemyst said, wrapping his arm around Josh's waist, pulling the twins between the blazing stones and into the grassy landscape on the other side of the world.

"I never liked writing tragedies," William Shakespeare whispered.

The golden light faded the moment Josh's hand was pulled away, and the smells of orange and vanilla vanished and were replaced by the musky scent of Gabriel and the single surviving Ratchet.

The Wild Hunt and the Next Generation, the immortals and human attackers immediately faded back into the night, leaving behind them nothing but dust, and green fields tramped to muddy ruin. Palamedes staggered up out of the night. His armor was scratched and dented, his huge claymore snapped in two. Exhaustion thickened his accent. "We need to get out of here before the police arrive."

"I know a place," Shakespeare said. "It's close by, a perfectly preserved Edwardian barn."

Palamedes squeezed the Bard's shoulder. "Not quite so perfectly preserved, I'm afraid." ount Tam," Nicholas Flamel said, falling to his knees, breathing in great lungfuls of warm air. "San Francisco."

Dizzy and disoriented, Josh too stumbled to his hands and knees and looked around. While there was still brilliant sunshine on the mountainside, swirling tendrils of mist were creeping in farther down the slopes.

Sophie crouched beside her brother. Her flesh was chalky white, her eyes sunk deep in her head, her blond hair flat and greasy on her skull. "How do you feel?"

"About as bad as you look, I'm guessing," he answered.

Sophie climbed slowly to her feet and then helped her twin up. "Where are we?" she asked, looking around. But there were no landmarks she recognized.