The journey took longer than it looked. The shadowy ruins of Ankh Tawy continually beckoned but refused to come closer.
The shape of a city wall grew before them, higher and higher, but never nearer. Craggy and shattered, it looked like a skeletal lower jaw left in the desert, cracked and missing teeth. Beyond the wall, towers loomed, along with the tips of obelisks and the crooked crown of a stadium. And in the center rose a familiar stepped pyramid.
“It looks so much like the great Temple of Kukulkan,” Marika said.
“But it’s missing the crouched dragon on the top.” Jake felt the weight of the winged snake, wrapped around his neck. He suddenly realized how much the wisling looked like the stone serpent in Calypsos. There had to be some reason for that. According to Shaduf, the wisling legend went back to the founding of Ankh Tawy. Did similar creatures once roam Calypsos? Was the stone dragon modeled upon the bigger cousin of the tiny snake around his neck?
The only answers lay ahead.
The trek continued for what seemed like hours. Jake was about to believe the ruins were a mirage, an illusion to lure the unwary deeper and deeper into the storm. Then they were there.
The sands parted, and Ankh Tawy appeared only yards away, so suddenly, it was like waking from a dream. This feeling was further enhanced as the storm dropped away. One minute they were lost in a maelstrom of sand, wind, and lightning—and the next, the world was dead quiet.
Nothing moved in the shadow of the ruins, not even a grain of sand.
Overhead, stars shone down, twinkling as if nothing was wrong.
Jake led the others forward, still holding their hands, bearing aloft the emerald crystal, while Bach’uuk carried the ruby crystal mounted on the witch’s staff. They all studied the perfect stillness.
Like being in the eye of the storm.
Bach’uuk added his own interpretation. “A boulder in a river.”
Jake realized that his Ur friend’s description was probably more accurate. He looked behind him as the storm raged and saw how it seemed to flow around the ruins.
A boulder in a river of time.
“I think we can let go,” Marika said softly.
Jake knew she was right, but he still hesitated—and not only because of the danger. He stared down at her hand, suddenly conscious of how warm her palm felt in his, how right it fit there.
Bach’uuk had no such qualms. He released his grip on Jake. They held their breaths, but nothing happened.
“All is fine,” Bach’uuk finally declared.
With no good reason to keep holding hands, Jake let Marika’s go. He pointed to a broken archway to his left. “Looks like there’s an entrance over there.”
They set off along the curve of the wall. Large sections had caved in; others had been blackened by ancient fires.
“The storm didn’t do this,” Marika said.
Jake agreed. “Looks like a war was fought here.”
At the archway, massive wooden doors had been shattered into splinters. Jake swore he could hear that ancient blast even now. The three of them picked their way through the rubble and found the city in no better shape.
A central street cut across the ruins, but only a few homes and structures had escaped damage. Wreckage filled entire blocks. Some buildings were nothing but burned shells. But worst of all were the skeletons, sprawled where people fell, the cause of death plain: crushed or missing skulls, broken limbs, rib cages still pierced by spears. One courtyard was filled only with human teeth.
Aghast at the horror, no one spoke, and their pace quickened. Jake tried to understand the slaughter here. How could his beautiful mother have played any part in this?
At last, they reached the city’s central square. Bathed in bright moonlight, it was as large as ten city blocks, centered on the stepped pyramid. The city’s temple rose in ten giant tiers. Near the top was a circular opening similar to that of the pyramid in Calypsos. If the third timestone was still in the city, Jake was sure it would be found inside.
Still, the pyramid failed to hold Jake’s full attention. Instead he stared at the battle being waged at the foot of the temple. It was frozen in stone, like a life-sized diorama. Warriors from a mix of Egyptian and other tribes guarded the foot of the stairs leading to the pyramid’s entrance. It was plainly a desperate last stand. Many other warriors littered the square, crushed or torn apart.
Only yards from the pyramid, a massive creature—also stone—stood reared up on two legs, wings spread as wide as half a soccer field. Its long neck ended at an anvil-shaped head with a long crocodilian snout. Its massive jaws screamed at the skies as if summoning forth the storm to help it do battle.
“What is it?” Marika asked.
Jake knew but couldn’t speak for a moment. He’d seen this creature before, both in the fossil record and as a living specimen racing over the treetops of the Sacred Woods of Calypsos. It was the monster of all winged dinosaurs, the pteranodon. When last he’d seen such a creature, the beast had been armored in shadows and ridden by the Skull King. It seemed impossible for it to be here, centuries in the past, but Jake knew it to be the same beast.
He turned to Marika and choked out the impossible words. “That’s the Skull King’s mount!”
The confusion in Marika’s face changed to disbelief.
But Jake knew it to be true. Back in Calypsos, he had stared into the beast’s eyes. Though hardened now into a pair of black diamonds, they were the same. Stone or not, they still opened into a bottomless well of flowing blood and tortured cries. He could never forget such a sight.
He stared at those open jaws, frozen forever in a silent scream.
No other pteranodon—except for the Skull King’s monster—ever had teeth.
“How could that be?” Marika asked. “How could Kalverum Rex have been here centuries ago?”
Bach’uuk answered her but stared pointedly at Jake. “Time is a river. Some can travel up or down it.”
Jake had done so himself—so why not this monster?
They headed across the square, stepping over bodies as if they were nothing more than toppled and broken statues.
“Someone must have used the ruby crystal here,” he said, “turning everyone to stone, including this creature.”
As they continued toward the pyramid, he kept a wary watch on the winged monster, expecting it to suddenly twist around and lunge to life. Even the wisling tightened its tail around Jake’s neck and gave a small hiss of warning at the sculpture.
As they passed under one of the pteranodon’s wings, Marika turned, walking backward, staring up at the creature. A worried look pinched her features.
“What?” Jake asked.
“Back in Ka-Tor, those three pictures, the ones showing the destruction of Ankh Tawy …”
“What about them?”
“Remember the middle picture, the one showing a winged beast blasting the city apart.…”
Jake suddenly understood. He stopped and looked up at the stone figure of the pteranodon. The middle mosaic of the triptych had illustrated a great winged creature done up in bits of broken tile and glass. Jake realized that he was staring at that same creature, frozen in place, forever screaming up at the sky. He remembered his earlier impression, that it looked as if the pteranodon was summoning the storm.
He considered what that implied.
Did the escaping Egyptians of this city make the same assumption, that this beast was the source of the Great Wind? Did they name the creature after a monster out of their own legends?
Marika had already realized the truth. “This beast … this is the Howling Sphinx of Ankh Tawy.”
30
WHAT’S OLD IS
NEW AGAIN
From the top step of the pyramid and under a full moon, Jake had a sweeping view of the city—and of its destruction. Towers lay toppled, crushing entire neighborhoods. Fires had burned large swaths. Roofs had been caved in by massive boulders. Still, if he squinted his eyes, he could imagine h
ow Ankh Tawy must have once looked: a handsome city of gleaming spires, blue-tiled homes, sparkling fountains, and verdant gardens.
But now it was all gone.
Jake stared down at the stone beast—the Howling Sphinx of Ankh Tawy. Even from so far away, a dark cunning glinted from those black diamond eyes.
Is that why future Egyptians sculpted their Sphinxes with human faces, to reflect this monster’s malignant intelligence?
Jake shook his head. Such questions would have to wait. Ultimately, he knew who was truly to blame for all of this destruction.
Kalverum Rex.
The Skull King.
He had laid waste to this beautiful, peaceful city, and Jake could guess why. He stared down at this defiant last stand by the stone warriors, defending the pyramid against that monster, one step away from defeat.
He turned to the circular entrance to the temple. The Skull King had wanted something inside this pyramid, but he’d been thwarted, stopped just inches from his goal. And now, centuries later, he was trying again. Whatever he wanted here, Jake would not let him have it.
But what was it? What source of power did this pyramid possess?
Any hope of an answer lay inside.
Jake lifted a palm toward the opening. Back in Calypsos, the temple had been guarded by an energy shield. But he felt no tingle of warning here.
“Can we enter?” Marika asked from one step below, standing with Bach’uuk.
“Nothing’s stopping us.” That concerned Jake. The pyramid felt as dead and haunted as the city. Jake had counted on some revelation, some weapon to use against the Skull King. What if there was nothing here?
Together they entered the dark pyramid, Jake leading with the raised emerald crystal. Its glow offered some light. Bach’uuk followed Marika, carrying the staff with the ruby crystal. It shone softly with its own fire.
The tunnel descended at a slight angle, heading toward the pyramid’s heart. Their footsteps echoed off the walls, sounding hollow and lost. But the way was not far. The tunnel emptied into a cavernous domed chamber, as large as a ballroom, with a roof that stretched high overhead. A light glowed near the back wall, revealing an archway leading out.
The light drew them across the room.
“Careful,” Jake warned, but didn’t stop.
As they got closer, Jake saw that the archway—tall enough for an elephant to pass under—did not open into another tunnel. It just framed a huge plate of metal, the same shiny substance he’d seen back at the royal pyramid of Ka-Tor. Only this one didn’t have any writing or a picture of a wisling on the metal. It was blank and featureless, though again it held a strange translucence that made it look as if it was constantly flowing.
As odd as this feature was, it failed to hold his attention. Instead he stared above the arch, to a perfect sphere of crystal—ten feet across—imbedded halfway into the wall.
“A crystal heart,” Marika said.
Jake had seen such an object before, back in the great Temple of Kukulkan. It had hung suspended in a similar chamber, rotating slowly in midair. It had glowed steadily, but Jake had felt a pulse burst out with each full spin. The crystal heart of Kukulkan had really been three spheres—one inside the other—spinning in opposite directions: one spun left to right, the other right to left. The third spun from top to bottom. Atlantean letters had been carved across the surface of all three spheres and spun to form all manner of combination, like a crystal computer.
As Jake crossed the chamber, he saw those same letters here—but this heart had gone cold, dark, and lifeless.
As dead as the city.
The glow that drew them onward came instead from the floor. A giant triangle had been carved at the threshold to the archway. It was marked with cryptic arrows: one pointed left, another right, a third circled in on itself.
An icy blue crystal glowed in a corner, by the arrow pointing left, resting inside a bronze cup.
“The third timestone,” Marika said as they reached the far wall. “The sapphire one.”
The wisling slipped from around Jake’s neck. Its wings blurred to a humming buzz as it snaked through the air and hovered over the sapphire, slowly circling the timestone, studying it first with one eye, then with the other.
“What are we supposed to do?” Marika asked.
Jake stepped around the triangle, noting the empty bronze cups at the top and right edge. Plainly they were meant to hold the ruby and emerald timestones. The pattern was a match to his apprentice badge.
“I think we’re supposed to return the emerald and ruby crystals here, to repair what’s been broken,” Jake said.
But he wasn’t sure. He turned to the others. Marika crossed her arms, worried. Bach’uuk simply shrugged. They were leaving the decision to him.
Moving to the top corner, he knelt and lowered his emerald stone toward the cup marked with the twisted arrow. The wisling sailed over to watch him, as if to make sure he took great care. When the crystal was a few inches from the empty cup, Jake felt a force pushing against him. He had to lean his shoulders, using both arms now, to try and force the emerald down into the bronze cup.
The wisling sped up to his face and hissed angrily.
“Not there,” Bach’uuk said with a shake of head. “Wrong corner.”
“Maybe he’s right,” Marika said.
Jake stopped fighting the force and moved to the other corner of the triangle, the one with the arrow pointing right. He reached the crystal toward that cup, expecting the same resistance, but this time an unseen power snapped the emerald from his fingers and snagged it into place.
Jake rubbed his palm on his pants. The tug felt magnetic, and the ringing clang of crystal on metal sounded like a circuit closing. He stood and stepped back, then nodded to Bach’uuk.
“Try yours.”
His Ur friend moved to the top corner. He lowered the end of the staff toward the final cup. As the stone came close, a magnetic pull yanked the crystal from the staff and seated it firmly inside the third cup.
As that final circuit closed with a clang, they all fled back, not knowing what to expect. Even the wisling raced along with them, winging to hide behind Jake’s shoulder.
A humming rose in the room. At first Jake wasn’t sure if it was the snake’s wings or something else. But as the sound grew louder, he knew it wasn’t coming from the wisling. The glow of the three timestones became even brighter.
“Jake!” Marika said. “The heart!”
He looked up. The imbedded sphere above the archway had also begun to glow. For safety’s sake, they took another few steps back. With a sandy grind of protest, the sphere began to turn—at first haltingly, them more smoothly. Soon it revealed three layers, turning in different directions, like a spinning gyroscope.
“We did it,” Marika exclaimed.
“But what have we done?” Jake asked.
“Listen.” Bach’uuk cocked his head.
Jake heard a soft pulse growing, felt it in his chest: a beat timed to each turn of the sphere. Like the crystal heart of Kukulkan. The sphere here had come to life. It was beating again.
But that wasn’t what Bach’uuk was referring to. He had turned toward the exit. “Listen,” he said again. “The storm’s howl.”
Jake couldn’t hear anything—then realized that was exactly what Bach’uuk was talking about. The constant scream and moan of the sandstorm had died. Whatever they’d done had turned off the Great Wind. He had to see what that meant.
He hurried toward the tunnel with Bach’uuk in tow.
Marika stayed behind. She stared up at the spinning crystal heart. Its glow was so bright now that the metallic archway below looked like a churning silvery pool. Marika took a step closer to the wall.
“Jake …” she started, her voice curious.
“I’ll be right back!” he said as he hit the tunnel heading up to the outside.
Jake and Bach’uuk raced back to the pyramid’s opening, bright with moonlight. Reaching the o
pen air, Jake stepped out onto the first step. From his perch, he stared beyond the city, searching the skies. The small patch of stars above Ankh Tawy had spread wider in all directions, stretching to the horizon. Past the broken walls of the city, a slight haze still clouded the desert, coming from small particles of dust still suspended in the air. A few sparks of lightning popped and sizzled as the last of the storm’s static energy dissipated.
But that was all.
The Great Wind had blown itself out.
“Jake …” Bach’uuk said, drawing back Jake’s attention. His friend was not staring out—but down.
At the foot of the pyramid, movement drew his eye. The stone statues slowly shifted, at first almost too slowly to tell. Then the movement became more evident. Arms shifted, swords were raised. As Jake watched, color slowly returned to the guards as if some invisible hand were painting them stroke by stroke. As the color filled in, the movement grew fuller. Heads turned. One figure leaped down to the square.
“They’re not stone,” Jake said.
“Time’s river is unfreezing,” Bach’uuk said, recognizing the truth, too.
The warriors below hadn’t been turned to stone but had simply been frozen in time, so thoroughly that flesh refused to move. Even sunlight must have been trapped by the spell, unable to reflect back color, turning all to a dark gray.
Jake understood. The spell of the ruby timestone wasn’t one of petrifaction. It simply stopped time, freezing the assaulted so solidly that they appeared to be stone.
Hope surged as Jake pictured Kady, frozen into a gray statue with a sword. Was the same resuscitation occurring to her right now?
But his hope was short-lived.
A trumpeting screech made him jump. It wasn’t only the warriors who were coming back to life. As he stared, the Howling Sphinx slowly lowered its head, one black eye rolling toward Jake.
Below, cries of the wounded rose from thawing throats.
Warriors yelled.
Bach’uuk tugged Jake back toward the shelter of the pyramid as a battle—centuries old—restarted anew. A flash of fire drew his eyes to the west. Off in the distance, a blazing craft drifted up from the desert floor.
Jake Ransom and the Howling Sphinx Page 21
