The Magician

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

P erenelle Flamel was puzzled.

Creeping along the dimly lit corridors, she d discovered that all the lower

cells of the island prison were filled with creatures from the darker edges

of myth. The Sorceress had encountered a dozen different vampire breeds and

various werebeasts, as well as boggarts, trolls and cluricauns. One cell held

nothing but a sleeping child minotaur, while in the cell opposite, two

cannibal Windigo lay unconscious alongside a trio of oni. An entire corridor

of cells was given over to dragon-kin, wyverns and firedrakes.

Perenelle didn't think they were prisoners none of the cells were locked yet

they were all asleep, and they were secured behind the shining silver

spider s web. Still, she wasn't sure whether that was to keep the creatures

prisoners or keep them apart. None of the creatures she d discovered were

allies. She passed one cell where the web hung in ragged tatters. The cell

was empty, but the web and floor were clogged with bones, none of them even

vaguely human.

These were creatures from a dozen lands and as many mythologies. Some like

the Windigo she had only heard of, but at least they were native to the

American continent. Others, as far as she knew, had never traveled to the New

World and had remained safe and secure in their homelands or in Shadowrealms

that bordered those lands. Japanese oni should not coexist alongside Celtic

peists.

There was something terribly wrong here.

Perenelle rounded a corner and felt a breeze ruffle her hair. She turned her

face to it, nostrils flaring, smelling salt and seaweed. With a quick glance

over her shoulder, she hurried down the corridor.

Dee had to be collecting these creatures, had to be gathering them together,

but why? And more importantly, how? Capturing a single vetala was unheard of,

but a dozen? And how had they managed to get a baby minotaur away from its

mother? Even Scathach, as fearless and deadly as she was, would never face

down one of the bull-headed race if she could help it.

Perenelle came to a flight of steps. The smell of salt air was stronger now,

the breeze cooler, but she hesitated before putting her foot down and bent to

check the stair for silver strands. There were none. She still hadn't spotted

whatever had spun the webs that festooned the lower cells, and it was making

her incredibly nervous. It suggested that the web creators were probably

sleeping which meant that they would wake up sooner or later. When they did,

the entire prison would be swarming with spiders or maybe worse and she

didn't want to be out in the open when that happened.

A little of her power had returned certainly enough to defend herself, though

the moment she used her magic, it would draw the sphinx to her and

simultaneously weaken and age her. Perenelle knew she would only get one

chance to face down the creature, and she wanted needed to be as powerful as

possible for that encounter. Darting up the creaking metal stairs, she

stopped at the rust-eaten door. Pushing back her hair, she placed her ear

against the corroded metal. All she could hear was the dull pounding of the

sea as it continued to eat away at the island. Gripping the handle in both

hands, she gently bore down on it and pushed the door open, gritting her

teeth as old hinges squeaked and squalled, the sound echoing through the

corridors.

Perenelle stepped out into a broad courtyard surrounded by ruined and tumbled

buildings. To the right the sun was sinking in the west, and it painted the

stones in a warm orange light. With a sigh of relief, she spread her arms

wide, turned her face to the sun, threw her head back and closed her eyes.

Static crackled and ran along the length of her black hair, lifting it off

her shoulders as her aura immediately began to recharge. The wind whipping in

off the bay was cool, and she breathed deeply, ridding her lungs of the

stench of rot, mildew and the monsters below.

And then she suddenly realized what all the creatures in the cells had in

common: they were monsters.

Where were the gentler spirits, the sprites and fey, the huldra and the

rusalka, the elves and the inari? Dee had only gathered the hunters, the

predators: the Magician was assembling an army of monsters.

A savage howling shriek ripped through the island, vibrating the very stones

beneath her feet. Sorceress!

The sphinx had discovered Perenelle was missing.

Where are you, Sorceress? The fresh sea air was suddenly tainted with the

stink of the sphinx.

Perenelle was turning back to close the door when she spotted movement in the

shadows below. She d looked into the sun too long, and the golden ball had

left burning afterimages on her retina. She squeezed her eyes shut for a

moment; then she opened them again to peer into the gloom.

The shadows were moving, flowing down the walls, gathering at the bottom of

the steps.

Perenelle shook her head. These were no shadows. This was a mass of

creatures, thousands, tens of thousands of them. They flowed up the stairs,

slowing only as they approached the light.

Perenelle knew what they were then spiders, deadly and poisonous and knew why

the webs were so different. She glimpsed a seething mass of wolf spiders and

tarantulas, black widows and brown recluses, garden spiders and funnel webs.

She knew they should not exist together which probably meant that whatever

had called them, and now controlled them, probably lurked below.

The Sorceress slammed the metal door shut and wedged a lump of masonry

against the base. Then she turned and ran. But she had only taken a dozen

steps before the door was ripped off its hinges by the weight of the massed

spiders.