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.