The Enchantress (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel)

Doctor.”
    “And I need to catch my breath,” Dee gasped.
    “We have no time.”
    “Let me rest . . . unless you want me to expire here, on these steps.”
    “No, Doctor, we’re not going to let you die just yet.” Marethyu stretched out his hand. “Let me help you.”
    “Why?” Dee leaned on the slick crystal steps and looked up into Marethyu’s blue eyes. “If you know who I am, then you know what I am, what I have done. Why are you helping me?”
    “Because we all have our roles to play in saving the world.”
    “Even me?”
    “Especially you.”
    Marethyu carried Dee up the remaining two hundred steps. The English immortal wrapped an arm over the man’s shoulder and pressed his head against the figure’s chest. He could hear no heartbeat, and as they climbed higher and higher, he became conscious that Marethyu was not breathing heavily with his exertions. He was not breathing at all.
    The tall blue-eyed figure raced lightly up the steps. In places the walls were transparent, allowing Dee glimpses of a white-flecked gray ocean. Huge waves crashed against a rocky shoreline, outlining a town in foam and spray. Offshore, enormous blue-green icebergs smashed themselves against unseen rocks. As they climbed, Dee noticed that certain steps exuded odd odors or flickered with strange colors when they moved over them. Others trembled with musical notes or the temperature rose or fell sharply.
    “We’re passing through Shadowrealms?” Dee asked.
    “Very astute.”
    “I would love to explore this place,” Dee whispered.
    “No, Doctor, you would not,” Marethyu said with conviction. “This tower is built on the cusp of a dozen ley lines, in a place where at least as many Shadowrealms intersect. A couple of these steps bring us in and out of some of the worst worlds ever created. Linger too long on a step and you never know where you’ll end up. Or what you might attract.”
    “Ah, but think of the adventure.”
    “There are some adventures not worth having.”
    Dee looked up into Marethyu’s eyes. “And I take it you have had some of those?”
    “I have.”
    “Is that where you lost your hand? Let me guess: some ravening monster bit it off and then Abraham created this hook for you.”
    “No, Doctor. You are so wrong.” Marethyu laughed, and in that moment sounded very young. “Besides, I think if Abraham had made me a replacement, I would have asked him for something shaped a bit more . . . handlike, something a bit more useful.” He ran the hook along the crystal walls and rainbow sparks cascaded over them. The semicircle of metal came to blazing light, writhing with arcane symbols. “In the beginning I hated it,” he admitted.
    “And now?” Dee asked.
    “Now it is part of me. And I of it. Together we have changed the world.”
    Marethyu climbed up through a narrow rectangle in the floor and eased the elderly Dee into a sitting position on the flat roof of the crystal tower.
    “From here I can see the world.” Abraham the Mage stepped away from a squat cylindrical telescope, angling his body so that only one side was turned to Marethyu and Dee. “Come look.”
    “Give me a moment, I beg of you. Let me compose myself.” The doctor stretched out his legs and leaned back on stiffened arms. He looked up at the tall blond-haired figure wrapped in a cloak of shimmering gold foil. “In all the long years of my life, I always believed you were a legend,” he breathed. “I never imagined you were real.”
    “Doctor, I am disappointed.” Abraham’s head moved in a tiny nod and he coughed a tiny laugh. “You know that at the heart of every legend is a grain of truth. You’ve dealt with monsters all your life. You consorted with creatures who were worshipped as gods, and fought alongside nightmares. And yet you consider me to be a legend!”
    “Everyone likes to believe in a legend or two.” Dee reached up and Marethyu helped him to his feet.
    They were standing on a flat circular platform at the top of the crystal tower. A bitter wind whipped across the platform, rich with salt and sea spray and flecked with tiny stinging chips of ice.
    “It is truly an honor to meet you.” Dee stepped forward and stretched out his hand, but Marethyu gently pushed it down and shook his head slightly.
    “The Mage will not shake your hand, Doctor.”
    Abraham stepped away from the telescope. “Come look.”
    The instrument was made of what looked like solid cream-colored crystal. The