01_-_The_Alchemyst

Sophie’s scream sent out a shock wave of icy air that shattered the
saber-toothed tiger to powder and knocked back the nearest skeletons. The
huge bear crashed to the ground, crushing a dozen skeletons beneath its bulk.
The blast of air had also cleared away a patch of fog, and for the first time,
Sophie realized the enormity of what they were facing. There weren’t dozens
or even hundreds, there were thousands of the Old West’s dead marching
down the street toward them. Dotted through the mass were the bony remains
of the animals that had hunted in the surrounding mountains for centuries. She
didn’t know what else she could do. The final use of magic exhausted her,
and she slumped against Scathach, who caught her in her left arm while
holding one sword in her right hand.
Flamel climbed tiredly to his feet. Using magic had drained his reserves
of energy as well, and even in the past few minutes he had aged. The lines
around his eyes were deeper, his hair thinner. Scathach knew he could not
survive much longer.
“Give him the pages, Nicholas,” she urged.
He shook his head stubbornly. “I will not. I cannot. I’ve spent my life
protecting the Book.”
“He who retreats lives longer,” she reminded him.
He shook his head. Flamel was bent over, breathing in great heaving
gulps of air. His skin was deathly pale, with two spots of unnaturally bright
red on his cheeks. “This is the exception, Scathach. If I give him the pages,
then I’ve condemned all of us—Perry, too, and the entire world—to
destruction.” He straightened and turned to face the creatures for what they
all knew would be the last time. “Could you get Sophie away from here?”
Scathach shook her head. “I cannot fight them and carry her.”
“Could you get away on your own?”
“I could fight my way out,” she said carefully.
“Then go, Scatty. Escape. Get to the other Elders, contact the immortal
humans, tell them what happened here, start fighting the Dark Elders before it
is too late.”