the blade on the edge of his shoe. There was the briefest hint of oranges in the air, but the smell was bitter and faintly sour. The moment the boy touched the hilt, a wash of emotions and images hit him:
Palamedes, the Saracen Knight, at the head of a dozen knights in armor and chain mail. They were battered, their armor scarred and broken, weapons chipped, shields dented. They were fighting their way through an army of primitive-looking beastlike men, trying to get to a small hill where a single
warrior in golden armor desperately battled against creatures that were a terrible cross between men and animals.
Palamedes shouting a warning as a huge creature rose up behind the lone warrior, a creature that was shaped like a man but had the curling horns of a stag on its head. The horned man raised a short stone sword and the warrior in gold fell.
Palamedes standing over the fallen warrior, gently removing the sword Excalibur from his hand.
Palamedes racing through a marshy swampland, pursuing the staglike creature. Beasts came at him—boarmen and bearmen, wolfmen and goatmen—but he cut through them with Excalibur, the sword blazing, leaving arcs of cold blue light in the air.
Palamedes standing at the bottom of an impossibly sheer cliff, watching the horned man climb effortlessly to the top.
And at the top, the creature turning and holding aloft the sword he’d used to kill the king. It dripped and steamed with crimson-black smoke. And it was almost a mirror of the sword in the Saracen Knight’s hand.
Josh drew in a deep shuddering breath as the images faded. The horned man had been holding Clarent, Excalibur’s twin. Opening his eyes, he looked at the weapon, and in that instant, he knew why Palamedes had snatched up the blade. The two swords were almost identical; there were only minor differences in the hilts. The Saracen Knight had assumed the stone sword was Excalibur. Concentrating fiercely on the gray blade, Josh tried to focus on what he’d just seen—the warrior in the golden armor. Had that been …?
A stale unwashed smell assaulted Josh’s nose and heturned to find the bald man they’d glimpsed earlier standing close to him, squinting shortsightedly behind his thick black-rimmed glasses. His eyes were a pale washed-out blue. And he stank. Josh coughed and took a step back, eyes watering. “Man, you could use a bath!”
“Josh!” Sophie said, shocked.
“I do not believe in bathing,” the man said in his clipped accent, the voice completely at odds with his appearance. “It damages the natural oils in the body. Dirt is healthy.”
The small man moved from Josh to Sophie and looked her up and down. Josh noticed that his sister blinked hard and wrinkled her nose. Then she clamped her mouth tightly shut and stepped back.
“See what I mean?” Josh said. “He needs a bath.” He brushed dirt off the sword blade and took a step closer to his sister. The man looked harmless, but Josh could tell that something about him angered—or was it frightened?—the Alchemyst.
“Yeah.” Sophie tried not to breathe in through her nose. The stench from the man was indescribable: a mixture of stale body odor, unwashed clothes and rank hair.
“I will wager you are twins,” the man asked, looking from one to the other. He nodded, answering his own question. “Twins.” He reached out with filthy fingers to touch Sophie’s hair, but she slapped his hand away. Her aura sparked and the stench around the man briefly intensified.
“Don’t touch me!”
Flamel stepped between the man in the mechanic’s overallsand the twins. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “I thought you were dead.”
The man smiled, revealing shockingly bad teeth. “I’m as dead as you are, Alchemyst. Though I am better known.”
“You two have obviously met before,” Josh said.
“I’ve known this”—Nicholas hesitated, lines and wrinkles creasing his face—“this person since he was a boy. In fact, I once had
Palamedes, the Saracen Knight, at the head of a dozen knights in armor and chain mail. They were battered, their armor scarred and broken, weapons chipped, shields dented. They were fighting their way through an army of primitive-looking beastlike men, trying to get to a small hill where a single
warrior in golden armor desperately battled against creatures that were a terrible cross between men and animals.
Palamedes shouting a warning as a huge creature rose up behind the lone warrior, a creature that was shaped like a man but had the curling horns of a stag on its head. The horned man raised a short stone sword and the warrior in gold fell.
Palamedes standing over the fallen warrior, gently removing the sword Excalibur from his hand.
Palamedes racing through a marshy swampland, pursuing the staglike creature. Beasts came at him—boarmen and bearmen, wolfmen and goatmen—but he cut through them with Excalibur, the sword blazing, leaving arcs of cold blue light in the air.
Palamedes standing at the bottom of an impossibly sheer cliff, watching the horned man climb effortlessly to the top.
And at the top, the creature turning and holding aloft the sword he’d used to kill the king. It dripped and steamed with crimson-black smoke. And it was almost a mirror of the sword in the Saracen Knight’s hand.
Josh drew in a deep shuddering breath as the images faded. The horned man had been holding Clarent, Excalibur’s twin. Opening his eyes, he looked at the weapon, and in that instant, he knew why Palamedes had snatched up the blade. The two swords were almost identical; there were only minor differences in the hilts. The Saracen Knight had assumed the stone sword was Excalibur. Concentrating fiercely on the gray blade, Josh tried to focus on what he’d just seen—the warrior in the golden armor. Had that been …?
A stale unwashed smell assaulted Josh’s nose and heturned to find the bald man they’d glimpsed earlier standing close to him, squinting shortsightedly behind his thick black-rimmed glasses. His eyes were a pale washed-out blue. And he stank. Josh coughed and took a step back, eyes watering. “Man, you could use a bath!”
“Josh!” Sophie said, shocked.
“I do not believe in bathing,” the man said in his clipped accent, the voice completely at odds with his appearance. “It damages the natural oils in the body. Dirt is healthy.”
The small man moved from Josh to Sophie and looked her up and down. Josh noticed that his sister blinked hard and wrinkled her nose. Then she clamped her mouth tightly shut and stepped back.
“See what I mean?” Josh said. “He needs a bath.” He brushed dirt off the sword blade and took a step closer to his sister. The man looked harmless, but Josh could tell that something about him angered—or was it frightened?—the Alchemyst.
“Yeah.” Sophie tried not to breathe in through her nose. The stench from the man was indescribable: a mixture of stale body odor, unwashed clothes and rank hair.
“I will wager you are twins,” the man asked, looking from one to the other. He nodded, answering his own question. “Twins.” He reached out with filthy fingers to touch Sophie’s hair, but she slapped his hand away. Her aura sparked and the stench around the man briefly intensified.
“Don’t touch me!”
Flamel stepped between the man in the mechanic’s overallsand the twins. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “I thought you were dead.”
The man smiled, revealing shockingly bad teeth. “I’m as dead as you are, Alchemyst. Though I am better known.”
“You two have obviously met before,” Josh said.
“I’ve known this”—Nicholas hesitated, lines and wrinkles creasing his face—“this person since he was a boy. In fact, I once had
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