For a moment, a fleeting fear passed through him. Could it be his mother hidden inside those robes? Or had the witch killed his mother to obtain the ruby crystal.
He refused to believe either scenario.
The witch pointed the staff at him. The crystal glowed like a ruby eye. “My massster is not done with you!”
Something about the sibilant, hissing quality of that voice struck Jake as familiar. Not his mother … but instead …
Then he remembered.
Oh, no.
As if sensing her ruse was exposed, the witch leaped and burst high up in the air, shedding her robes in a blast of shadows. Scabrous wings unfolded, clawed hands and feet scratched free, and a porcine visage hissed at him, revealing needle-sharp teeth.
A grakyl.
This was not one of the smaller harpylike ancestors, but one of the Skull King’s true creatures. Plainly female. She stood tall, her claws sharp and long, with an intelligence shining in those eyes that was more wicked and keen than any harpy’s. But she also looked battered and scarred. One wing was torn and shriveled. The side of her face was gnarled.
With her bad wing fluttering, she fell back to the arena floor—and slammed the crystal-tipped end of her staff into the sand.
A wave blasted outward like a ripple on a pond. It sped in all directions, consuming all color, turning all it touched to a dead gray. One of the sharks tried to flee, leaping up in the air; but as the ripple reached its tail, the wave climbed its twisting form and froze it into a grotesque statue.
It had been turned to stone.
The wave spread in every direction, freezing every creature it touched, foe and friend alike. All in its wake were left petrified.
Jake struggled to stand as the same rippling wave sped toward him. He managed to get to his feet, but that was all he could do. He lifted his own crystal toward the grakyl witch’s.
As the wave neared him, it parted to both sides, as if Jake were in a protective bubble. He stared at his stone.
Maybe it is protecting me.
But apparently no one else.
A sharp scream erupted behind him. He turned. Kady stood only a few yards away. Seeing what was coming, she fled backward, her arms pinwheeling. Jake attempted to pursue her, to pull her into his protective bubble.
But he was too weak, too enfeebled. Whatever magic was in the stone, it had sapped all his strength, turning him into an old man. The sand was rock hard under his feet.
“Kady!”
She met his gaze, knew she was doomed; but rather than looking scared, she looked sorry. He knew why: for having to leave him like so many others.
“Jake!” she cried.
Then the wave rolled over her—turning her to stone.
Jake crashed to his knees. Or he would have if something hadn’t grabbed him by the shoulders and yanked him up in the air. He was sure it was the witch, ready to tear out his throat.
“Hang on!” his captor shouted.
Jake craned up at a winged man trailing fire. He’d been rescued by a skyrider. With a blast of flames, the man sped Jake up toward the ship.
Jake kept staring down.
To the statue of a girl with a sword.
PART FOUR
23
RIDDLES OF THE SAND
They had been aloft for most of the day, not that Jake was aware of it. Dull with shock, lost in grief, he retreated to a small cabin belowdecks. Empty of tears, he sat on the bed, staring at the green stone resting on a table. It had both saved his life and ruined it.
Once he let go of the crystal, his strength had slowly returned. He’d touched the crystal with a fingertip to see if it would have the same effect again. But nothing happened. He could guess why. He fingered the bandage around his palm. The wound still throbbed, but the stone required blood.
He knew nothing else about it. The grakyl witch’s screech sat like a hot coal in his heart. He’s found the sssecond timestone!
He pictured the ruby crystal that decorated her staff. Was that the first? One red, one green. Was the emerald crystal what Kalverum Rex sought? Had he found the first but needed the second? Was that witch sent through the storm, armed with her bloodstone, to hunt for it?
Jake pressed his palms against his ears, trying to halt the jumble of questions. But when he stopped questioning, all he could think about was Kady, seeing her eyes as they turned to stone. The memory would haunt him forever.
He knew of only one balm that would ease the ache ever so slightly. It also involved blood—the blood of that witch. Before this matter was settled, Jake intended to kill her.
He used his cold fury like an anchor to steady himself. Focusing on revenge, he finally found the strength to stand and collect his things. Though most of the contents had spilled out, his backpack had remained on his shoulders. He stuffed the stone away, unable to look at the emerald crystal any longer but refusing to part with it.
He took a deep breath and placed a hand over the gold timepiece hanging from a chain around his neck. He felt the gentle ticking as if it were his own heart. He headed to the door—then stopped.
Why was the watch ticking? He’d not wound it; and the last time he looked at it, back in the royal museum chamber in Ka-Tor, it had stopped. He never thought to check it after removing the case from the hole in the sand pyramid.
Pulling on the chain, he tugged out the watch and cracked open the case. Again the small hand spun around and around. Standing in one spot, he slowly rotated. When he faced roughly east, the hand spun faster.
He swallowed hard as the realization hit him.
It’s acting like a compass again.
That could mean only one thing. …
If the ruby crystal was the first timestone and the emerald was a second one, there could be a third. He stared at the watch and knew it to be true. Jake realized he could even guess its color.
He dropped his backpack and peeled back the flap where he’d pinned his apprentice badge. It was a square bit of silver with four crystals. In the center was a sliver of a white crystal as bright as a diamond; and around it, forming a perfect triangle, were three other crystals: a ruby, an emerald, and an icy blue sapphire.
“There’s a third timestone,” he murmured.
And his father’s watch was pointing toward it.
He hurried across the room, picturing a blue sapphire. He had to tell someone. As he pulled open the door, Pindor came tumbling inside with a cry of surprise. He must have been sitting at the door all this time and had fallen asleep.
“Jake!” he blustered, and scrambled up. He studied Jake’s face, plainly struggling with what to say.
Marika and Bach’uuk rose from the opposite side of the hall. They’d all been watching over him, worried about him. In their faces, he saw a mirror of his own grief, along with their concern.
He thought he was done with tears, but touched by his friends’ vigil, his vision grew blurry. His heart pounded harder in his chest.
“There’s another timestone,” he blurted out.
Marika crinkled her brow. “Jake, what are you talking about?”
They all stared at him as if he’d gone mad. Then he realized that there was a good chance no one aboard the ship had heard the witch.
He brought them into his room and retold what happened, though it pained him to do so, especially when he got to the part about Kady.
“We know what happened from that point,” Marika said, saving him from having to relive it.
Pindor rubbed his chin. “That creature Heka …”
Marika’s lips tightened with worry. “A grakyl brood queen.” As the others looked at her, she explained. “No one’s ever seen one, but there are stories. They’re the most vicious of the grakyl. But what’s she doing here?”
Jake knew the answer, picturing the witch’s tattered wing and scarred body. “The Skull King must have sent her through the storm barrier. We know the beasts have some natural immunity to the blasting sand. Nefertiti mentioned how th
e harpies nest within the edges of that storm. Kalverum Rex must have chosen his strongest grakyl—one of the brood queens—to send through the barrier. He armed her with a bloodstone wand and the ruby crystal. But even protected by alchemy, the storm still came close to killing her.”
“She was sent,” Marika said, “to find the other two timestones.”
Pindor frowned. “She knows you have the emerald. Now she’ll want the third even more.”
“A crystal the color of a blue sapphire,” Marika said, fingering the apprentice badge.
Jake sat straighter and spoke with a vehemence that surprised him. “I’ll never let her have them.”
“We will help you,” Bach’uuk said. “But we should first find a map. See where your watch points.”
“I saw Politor with one,” Marika said. “He was talking with Horus and Shaduf atop the deck. They were trying to figure out where to go, which village would be the safest place for us to hide.”
“We’re not going to hide,” Jake said.
Bach’uuk patted him on the back. “Then I will go find the map.”
The mention of Horus and Shaduf reminded Jake of their current predicament. “What’s happening on the ground?”
Pindor shifted closer, as if he were huddling for a scrimmage. When it came to strategy, Jake’s Roman friend outshone most others. “Djer stayed behind in Ka-Tor. He’s attempting to rally the people against Kree. Word is that the entire Blood of Ka has vanished, along with Kree and that witch. Nefertiti’s sister has barricaded herself in the palace, guarded by those loyal to Kree.”
Pindor looked like he wanted to say more, sharing a glance with Marika.
“What?” Jake asked.
“That dark alchemy cast by the witch spread to much of the city. Hundreds have been turned to stone. Men, women, children.”
Jake took a deep, shuddering breath. So it wasn’t just Kady who had succumbed to that witch’s curse.
“People are scared,” Pindor continued, “taking to their homes. This fear can work for or against Djer. Some will rally with him against such horror. More may wish to bend a knee to Kree’s show of power and do whatever is demanded of them.”
It was grim news. The fate of this land teetered on a dagger’s edge. With Kree and his fellow cult members still loose and now bearing the power to turn all rebels to stone, the future did not look good. Guilt pushed Jake toward despair—not only for Kady, but also for those who had died today. By coming here, he’d set a match to a powder keg.
Marika touched his hand, a feather’s brushing of her fingertips. “We will stop Kree.”
“And that witch,” Pindor said.
Jake nodded. His friends would give him their strength.
The cabin door burst open, and Bach’uuk rushed inside, holding up a scroll. “I found a map.”
He’d also found Nefertiti. She followed him inside and glanced to Jake, then away again. He read the flash of guilt and sorrow. But he did not blame her. She’d jumped overboard to help Kady and her uncle. In the end, she was as much a victim of Kree and that witch as anyone.
Pindor sat up straighter when she joined them, combing his fingers through his hair, which only made it stick out more crazily. She ignored him.
“Why do you need the skymaster’s map?” she asked.
Jake waved her to a table. They all stood around it as Bach’uuk unrolled the scroll, revealing a map of Deshret. The outermost boundaries were shaded, marking the Great Wind that encircled this harsh land. The rest of the map was pocked with towns and villages, rivers and pools, dunes and rock. Crude skulls marked a scatter of places—danger zones—including one surrounded by an image of dancing flames.
Jake pulled out his father’s watch and snapped it open, resting it on his palm. They all leaned closer, staring at the rotating second hand. “It spins fastest when I hold it toward the northeast.” He demonstrated. “That’s the direction it wants us to go.”
Bach’uuk poked a finger at a spot southeast of Ka-Tor. “According to Skymaster Horus, this is where we are now.”
Jake had his friend keep his finger in place while he drew a line that traveled northeast from their current position. Nothing lay along that path, though it did brush perilously close to that image of the flaming skull. He continued to the end of the map, where the shaded area marked the Great Wind.
A small set of hieroglyphics indicated a place hidden in the storm. Jake didn’t need to read the Egyptian writing to know what it was.
Nefertiti said it out loud. “The ruins of Ankh Tawy.”
“The third timestone must be hidden there,” Jake said. “Most likely in the pyramid. We have to go at once.”
Nefertiti folded her arms. “None can enter Ankh Tawy. The storms are too fierce. The sand will scour the flesh off your bones. Many have tried, but no one can get through the Great Wind.”
“We did. “ Jake snapped his father’s watch closed and held it up. “This is the Key of Time. It carried us through before, to bring us here. We’ll have to trust that the watch will do so again. Why else would its hand point there?”
“If we ever hope to stop that witch from turning everyone in Deshret to stone, we’ll need all the power we can get. Jake’s one stone will not be enough,” Pindor said. “And if Heka should get hold of that third stone before we do …”
“All my people would be doomed,” Nefertiti said. She pondered the situation, then nodded. “I will instruct Skymaster Horus to take us there.”
“Can you convince him to go along with our plan?” Marika asked.
Her question seemed to mystify Nefertiti, ever the princess. “I am the daughter of the Glory of Ra. He will do as I say.”
She stormed out through the doorway, sweeping the door closed behind her.
Pindor sighed. “Isn’t she great?”
Bach’uuk sighed, too, but with a roll of his eyes.
Returning to the table, Jake leaned both fists on it. He stared at the map. “Everything points to Ankh Tawy. Even the fate of my mother is twisted into that history.”
“And our land,” Marika added. “The histories of Calypsos and Deshret are intertwined.”
Her words reminded him of a question that had been nagging him ever since he saw his mother’s tiled face on the mural. “But why did the people here think my mother was from Calypsos?”
“Maybe she came here with others,” Pindor said. “Like you did with us.”
“But when I asked all of your Elders back in Calypsos if they’d ever seen my parents or heard any stories about them, no one had.”
“Ankh Tawy fell into ruins centuries ago,” Marika said. “If your mother and father had come to Calypsos back then, they might have been forgotten, the records lost.”
Jake refused to believe it. Who could forget his parents? He pictured them now, striding like giants across his memory. But as their son, maybe he was being biased.
Bach’uuk scowled and waved Marika’s explanation away. “Ur live always in the long time. We would know.” He turned to Jake. “They never came to Calypsos.”
Then it made no sense. It was yet another mystery, one Jake could not solve now. He returned to the map. Before he got to Ankh Tawy, he wanted to know as much about the city as possible. At some point, he would pull Nefertiti aside to pick her brain.
Pindor joined him, voicing a new worry. “Do you think that monster still lives in Ankh Tawy?”
“The Sphinx?” Jake remembered the great winged beast on the mural, breathing out destruction. “I don’t know. It might just be legend. Egyptians worship the Sphinx. There’s a great statue of one still existing in my time.”
“What sort of beast is it?” Marika asked.
“Usually it has the head of a person attached to the body of some beast. Often a lion. Sometimes a clawed snake. In some pictures and statues, it has wings. Other times not.”
Pindor looked sick and sank to the bed.
“And it’s not just Egyptians who have legends of such beasts,??
? Jake continued. “Stories come from all around the world, but the most famous is from Greece.”
Pindor sneered. “Greeks. Always think they know everything.”
“What’s the story?” Marika asked.
“According to Greek myths, there was a monstrous Sphinx guarding the city of Thebes.”
Marika nodded. “Like the one guarding Ankh Tawy.”
“That’s right. The Sphinx would ask a traveler a riddle before allowing the stranger into the city. If you got it wrong, she would strangle you and eat you.”
“Oh, great …” Pindor moaned.
Marika waved him silent. “What was the riddle?”
“That changes depending on the story.” Jake took a moment to remember the most common version. “‘What creature walks on four legs in the morning, two at midday, and three in the evening … and the more legs it has the weaker it is?’”
He stared around to see if anyone could solve the riddle. He was about to give away the answer when Bach’uuk pointed to Jake. “You! Or us. We crawl when we’re babes, walk on two legs in the middle of our ages, and use a staff or crutch—a third leg—when we get old.”
“You got it!” Jake said. “And the more legs you have—as a baby or an old man—the weaker you are.”
Marika clapped her hands, delighted. “Tell us another one.”
He knew there was another riddle tied to that myth. He had to rack his brain. “Okay. ‘There are two sisters. One gave birth to the other, and the other gave birth to the first. Who are they?’”
Pindor crossed his arms. “I don’t know, but that’s just sick.”
Jake glanced to Bach’uuk. His brow was furrowed in concentration, but finally he shrugged, giving up.
“It’s night and day,” he said.
Marika smiled. “Day leads to night, and night leads to day.”
Pindor still wasn’t happy. “That’s cheating.”
Bach’uuk didn’t look any happier. In fact, he looked worried.
“What’s wrong?” Jake asked.
“Those riddles,” he said. “They both speak of the passing of time.”
Jake stood straighter. Bach’uuk was right. Time was the crux of everything: the mysterious crystals were called timestones, his mother could be trapped in the past, and now the riddles of the Sphinx. He sensed something important behind this realization.