“I am not completely defenseless, madam,” Dee said. From beneath his coat he pulled the short stone sword Excalibur and strode across the empty street toward the car yard. He stopped at the thick gates. The heavy metal was studded with punctures from the teeth on the Archon’s club, and where the metal had split, it had been pulled apart and curled like aluminum foil. Dee brought the sword close to where the Archon would have touched the metal, but nothing happened. If Cernunnos had used any magical power, Excalibur would have reacted, but the blade remained cold and dark. Dee nodded; the creature had used brute strength to tear open the gates. He was beginning to wonder just how much auric or magical power Cernunnos possessed. Legend spoke of the Archons-and even the earliest Elders, the Great Elders, who had come after them-as being either giants or hideous monsters, and sometimes both. But they were never described as magicians or sorcerers. It was the Great Elders who had first developed those abilities.

Dee bit back a smile; now that he suspected that Cernunnos possessed little or no magical power, he was starting to feel more confident. The creature had suggested that it could read his mind, but it could have been lying. He tried to recall exactly what the Archon had said when it had first appeared.

“Your thoughts and memories are mine to read, Magician. I know what you know; I know what you have been, I know what you are now.”

Well, that meant nothing. Cernunnos claimed he knew Dee’s thoughts but had not proved it in any way. Dee knew that his Elder had briefed the Archon.

“The Alchemyst, Flamel, and the children are with the Saracen Knight and the Bard behind their makeshift metal fortress. You want me and the Wild Hunt to force an entrance for you.”

Cernunnos had not revealed anything new, either. It was merely repeating a fact-a fact Dee already knew-and then stating the orders it had received from the Elder. It had only made it sound as if it were reading Dee’s thoughts.

Dr. John Dee laughed softly. The creature was certainly ancient, powerful and undoubtedly deadly. But suddenly, it didn’t seem quite so frightening.

Gripping the sword tightly, he slipped through the entrance into the narrow metal alleyway. He could hear the fire; it was closer now, crackling and moaning, painting the walls in dancing darting shadows. Dee realized that with every step, he sent up billowing clouds of gritty dust. Squeezing his lips tightly shut, he pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it to his mouth: he didn’t want to breathe in the gritty remains of the Wild Hunt. He’d been a magician, a sorcerer, a necromancer and an alchemist for too long, and could easily imagine what foul properties the dust contained. He certainly didn’t want them in his lungs.