Two small moons inched across the sky in perfect synchronicity.
“Hang on!” I said. “Ah-Puch gave me until the third moon, but the moons here are always present!”
“Maybe he meant in our time zone,” Hondo said.
Brooks blew a stray curl from her face. “Puke doesn’t care about time zones. All he cares about is winning. Good point, Zane. If the moons here never disappear, he could essentially show up any second.”
How could she be so calm about this?
Pukeface had told me he needed time to take care of a few things. I hoped that meant things in our world.
“How do we know what time it is here?” I asked Jazz so I could figure out the time back home.
Jazz smacked his forehead and rolled his eye. “Time? Here? Kid, you’ve got a lot to learn. Time isn’t marked in the Old World.” He glanced at the watch on his wrist. “Lucky for you, my watch keeps Real World Time—even when I’m here. It’s still morning in Cali.”
So I had almost a whole day left. Hopefully. I started breathing again.
Hondo craned his neck to see Jazz’s massive silver watch with a dozen dials and buttons. “I know a few things about marketing,” he said to the giant. “Maybe we could become partners. Then again, I guess your watch probably wouldn’t be that popular, considering no one comes here,” he added with a shrug. “But the other stuff, like that scooter? Totally awesome.”
“Super Turbo Jazz!” Jazz grunted. “I have lots of inventions. Some didn’t turn out too well, like the dog collar that was supposed to make dogs fly. Ended up burning off their fur instead. I got sued over that one. Lost half my life savings.”
“Guys!” Brooks interrupted. “Focus?”
The boat bumped up against an embankment of crumbled stone, where the river ended.
“Time to disembark,” Jazz said cheerfully.
But there was nothing cheerful about this sleeping gray place. Only a feeling of dread. And the first thought that crept into my head? I don’t want to die here.
Jazz shouldered a huge pack and stepped off the boat. We all followed. Adjusting his eye patch, he turned to Brooks. “Is now a good time, Little Hawk?”
He was asking for her permission to interrogate me, so I cut him off at the pass. “Yes, I’m a godborn,” I said. There was no point trying to hide it now. It was like a boat with a leak in the bottom—pretty soon it would fill with water and sink.
“You can’t tell anyone, Jazz,” Brooks said, hoisting her bag over her shoulder.
Jazz looked offended. “You know giants are the best secret-keepers—next to seers, that is.” Then he narrowed his eye and inched closer to me. “Wait a second….If you’re part god…”
Uh-oh. He’d figured it out and looked like he was going to blow. Whatever was sleeping here was about to wake up. He clenched his boulder-size fists. “You’re the one who set that masochistic, bloodthirsty monster free!”
Hondo stepped between me and the giant, craning his neck to look up at Jazz. “Hang on,” he argued. “He didn’t have a choice. I mean, he did, but not really. Give the kid a break.”
Jazz began to shake. A fat green vein throbbed in his neck. Brooks rushed over with a chocolate drink from her pack, which he guzzled, leaving dribbles down his chin.
“He did it to save me,” Brooks said pleadingly. “I would’ve died if Zane hadn’t let him out.”
Jazz’s gray eye roved between me and Brooks like he was trying to connect more dots. How long would it take for the gods to do the same?
“The gods will kill you when they find out,” he said finally. “No way will they let another godborn live.” Then he let out a loud burp that reeked of onion and dust.
“Yeah, so I’ve heard,” I said. “But…I… uh, I need to stay alive long enough to kill Ah-Puch.” I’d worry about the gods after that. If there was an after.
“You.” Jazz smirked. “A skinny kid with a…”
“Limp,” I finished his sentence.
“I was going to say lopsided head, but okay.” Jazz snapped a branch off a tree and handed it to me. I guessed it was supposed to be a walking stick. “Best leave it to the gods, kid,” he went on. “They’ve got a lot more experience with this sort of thing.”
“He is a god!” Hondo argued. “And a hell of a fighter. He can take down a demon runner in his sleep!”
I love my uncle, but he wasn’t helping my case. Jazz didn’t look convinced. “Demon runners are shadows of the gods with none of their magic or power,” the giant said. “The fact is, we don’t know enough about your brand of godborn blood—what it’s capable of, or not.” He wiped some chocolate off his chin and licked his fingers. “That was the whole reason for the Sacred Oath—to keep things balanced, orderly. Unless you’ve got some powers greater than the gods’, you need to step aside.”
“It has to be him, Jazz,” Brooks insisted, tugging off her single boot. “We… we can’t let anyone else get to Ah-Puch.”
“I hear an or else in there, Little Hawk.”
“Or else I die,” I said.
“Or else he becomes a soldier of death,” Brooks added, tossing her boot away.
“Death would be much better than that!” Jazz shrugged like he was used to hearing this sort of thing all the time. “Whatever. You want to get yourself killed? Be my guest. But don’t drag Little Hawk into this any more than you already have,” he said. Then his eye lit up as if something important had occurred to him. “So that’s it….”
“What?” I said. “What’s it?”
“Your dad,” Jazz began. “Whoever he is…” He stuck his fingers in his ears. “And don’t tell me. The less I know, the better. He wanted you to lure Ah-Puch to this place, because he knew that the gods wouldn’t look here. Not at first, anyway. He bought you time to do the deed yourself before all the heavens descend on you like vultures. Not sure if that means he likes you or hates you. I guess you could look at it either way.”
“You sure the gods won’t come here?” I asked, not sure whether that made me feel better or worse.
Jazz started down a shadowy path. “Look around, kid. No one’s been here in eons.”
Hondo’s eyes cut across the pale world. “Not exactly a dream destination,” he said. Then, “I really need to change out of these threads, but can I keep the suit?”
Jazz smirked, and I figured it was safe to ask him about the Sparkstriker then. “Lightning pounder?” he said. “Yeah, I’ve heard of her.”
“Lightning pounder?” That sounded sort of…violent.
“She strikes lightning into seers, giving them powers. She’s all women’s lib, trains girl orphans who have nowhere else to go, stuff like that. Don’t know what your old man would want with her. I mean, unless he wants her to train you, which there isn’t time for.”
“Right,” I said, feeling stupidly small. Why would Hurakan send me to an ancient lightning pounder who trains orphan girls? Last time I checked, I wasn’t an orphan or a girl. What if this lightning pounder couldn’t help me?
Jazz grunted. “Let’s get a move on, kid. You’ve got a god to kill.”
33
“Where are we going?” Brooks asked, trailing Jazz.
“Being a giant has its advantages, like being able to see things from far away.”
“What did you spot?” I asked, trying to keep up and totally failing, even with the walking stick.
“You’ll see,” Jazz said excitedly.
The air was cold and flat. Nothing slithered or breathed or stalked or flew. It was like the place had been abandoned by every living creature. Except one that had to be here: the White Sparkstriker.
“We can’t just walk aimlessly,” Hondo said after we’d trekked for what seemed like a mile through the dense jungle.
“We’re not,” Jazz said. He had to duck every so often to avoid slamming his head into a branch. “We’re going to Puksí’ikal.”
“Come again?” Hondo said.
Brooks ran-hopped to keep up
with Jazz’s enormous stride.
“It’s Mayan for heart, the center of the Old World,” Jazz said with his booming voice. “A place the gods made together, where they could meet, give counsel, pass judgment. Create, destroy. You know, stuff gods do when they’ve got nothing else to do.” He maintained his pace, swiping at stray branches that were getting in the way. “It’s the original place, where the first world was dreamed up. And the second and the third.” He took quick breaths. “The oldest and most powerful magic in the universe was born here! Man, this is going to do wonders for my career!”
My mind turned quickly. So Hurakan must have been a part of this place, too. He was a creator god, along with Mat. The back of my neck tingled as I thought, This is where it all began. The first magic. It made the place feel sort of… sacred. Was Jazz right? Did Hurakan want me to come here just because the gods wouldn’t? Something felt off about that. But what it was, I didn’t know.
I followed Jazz, walking in step with Hondo, who was slower than usual, which was the only reason I could keep up.
“You have a plan for killing old Puke?” Hondo asked quietly so only I could hear.
“Sort of.”
“Sort of doesn’t get you the gold, does it?”
“I have a plan, okay?” I didn’t care about gold. I only wanted to take down Ah-Puch and keep him from crushing the whole world. And if I could stay out of Xib’alb’a, that would be super awesome. The wound on my wrist burned and my head throbbed.
“Now that you’ve gouged out Puke’s eyes,” Hondo continued as we walked, “how’s he going to find you? Wasn’t the whole point to get the Stinking One to follow you here?”
“He knows I’m here in the Old World. Trust me, he’ll find me. Unless I find him first.”
Brooks fell back and said, “You need to be ready. It could be any time.”
The trees parted and we stepped into a clearing as long as five football fields. It was dominated by five enormous pyramids arranged in a semicircle. All the structures looked exactly the same. Each had steep staircases, one on each of the three sides that I could see, leading up to what looked like a square temple at the very top. They reminded me of the one Hurakan had created in the Empty, but these were much taller.
We walked into the center of the clearing. Jazz stared up at a pyramid in awe and said, “This here is sacred ground. Where the council—the five dominant gods—ruled, created, and destroyed.” His voice caught and he cleared his throat. “It’s true,” he whispered.
“What’s true?” I asked.
“Each side of each pyramid has ninety-one steps, making three hundred sixty-four total.”
Wow! He could count fast. Maybe it was a giant thing.
He continued, “When you add in the step taken to enter the temple at the top, the total comes to three hundred sixty-five.”
“The number of days in a year,” Brooks said, catching on.
“So the gods can count,” Hondo said impatiently. “Congrats.”
“This is how the marking of time came to be,” Jazz declared. “It was invented in this place. The legend says that the gods competed for seats here—that’s how the council was formed. Each temple represents a different god of the council: Nakon, god of war, and Ixtab—she’s running Xib’alb’a these days—then there’s Hurakan, god of storms…”
My breath caught in my throat.
Jazz went on, “Ixkakaw, goddess of chocolate… I think she overthrew another goddess, maybe Ixchel? She was the goddess of healing—didn’t like fighting. And then there’s Alom, god of the sky.”
“So these gods made themselves kings?” I said.
“And queens,” Brooks said.
Jazz was still smiling. “Then one, no one knows who, created time, and the world began. Or at least the third version of it. Man, I wish I had a camera!”
So Pacific had once been on the council—before the gods got rid of her and she was wiped from history.
Brooks gazed up. “Some say the gods lost the time rope. It used to be wrapped around the earth, but it disappeared, and now they can’t time-travel anymore.”
“Seems like a pretty big thing to lose,” Hondo said, shaking his head. “Did you say time-travel?”
Jazz yawned wide. “I’ll make a camp at the edge of the jungle. We all need some rest, since any moment could be”—he looked at me—“you know, kill-time and all that.”
“Shouldn’t we be looking for the Sparkstriker?” My insides were in knots.
“You need rest and sustenance, kid,” Jazz said. “Besides, no one finds Old Sparky.” He pulled magically heated pizza pockets and also bags of gummy worms out of his pack and passed them around. Was this all giants ate? I wondered.
“I’ll keep first watch,” Hondo said, chomping his pizza pocket. “Hey, speaking of watch, does yours have Wi-Fi?”
Jazz shook his head sadly like he was bummed he hadn’t thought of that. “But I’ve got a log that burns for eighteen hours!” He fished it out of his bag. “Oh, and we might need these.” He passed each of us a demon-tormenting flashlight. So he was Brooks’s supplier.
“What are we watching for?” Brooks wiped some crumbs from her mouth. “We’ll smell Ah-Puch before we ever see him.”
“Have to look out for other gods, too, just in case,” Jazz said. “Gotta make sure your boy here gets to Ah-Puch first.”
Brooks’s cheeks reddened. “He’s not my boy,” she muttered.
I needed to change the subject, fast. “Anyone have any leftover pizza pockets?” I said, polishing off the last of my own cardboard-like meal. “This stuff’s great, Jazz. Good thinking to bring it.”
Brooks lay back and covered her face with her arms. “How about you all stop talking so loud? We might as well put up a neon sign telling the gods where we are.”
For the next couple of hours, my mind reeled. It reeled while we sat around the fire, and it reeled while Jazz thunder-snored and Brooks and Hondo slept. PS, Hondo was supposed to keep first watch, but I guess the guy was still getting over the whole poison-meatball thing. I changed out of my suit and into my jeans and T-shirt (definitely better for god-fighting) and stared up at the twin moons inching across the starless sky, wondering if I’d ever get to see Hurakan again now that I’d lost the jade. My wrist burned, my short leg throbbed, and I couldn’t help wondering how a skinny kid with one good arm and one good leg was ever going to beat the god of death, darkness, and destruction. But Hurakan had sent me here for a reason. Find the White Sparkstriker. Except Jazz had said that wasn’t possible. So what was I supposed to do, sit around and wait for the lightning pounder to invite me to dinner?
Images of ancient wars, supernatural creatures, angry gods, and old magic spun through my mind, and all the while I kept thinking, Is this real? How could it all be real? The night dragged on, heavy and dark. I tried to psych myself up, convince myself that I was braver than I really was. But to be honest, I was scared. Scared and outmatched. I wished Rosie were here, so I could scratch her head and listen to her soft breathing. But I knew she was somewhere she didn’t want to be, either, and it tore me up to think she was scared, too.
Somehow I drifted to sleep.
I was jostled awake by a scratching sound. Rosie? I thought sleepily. I turned over on the hard ground, my sweatshirt balled under my head for a pillow.
There it was again, like a very light foot stepping on twigs at the edge of the tree line a mere fifteen feet away. I sat up and peered into the dark.
A masked figure stood in the shadows. Staring at me.
34
The figure wore a long red robe, and its matching mask was smooth and flat with only slits for eyes and a mouth. And at its side was a stone ax. Replace the red with black, and the ax with a scythe, and you’d have the Grim Reaper.
Crap!
Slowly, carefully, I rolled to my feet. My chest was as tight as dry leather. I wasn’t sure what to do. Walk over casually and start a conversation? Hey, creepy red mask, are you the
Sparkstriker? What brings you out this time of night? Okay, bad option. So I waited, unmoving and staring. But definitely trembling.
The sky was as black as Ah-Puch’s eyes, which made everything dark except for the fire. The figure lifted the ax and, with a single thrust, slammed it into a tree. I recoiled as the blow rang out through the forest. Jazz, Hondo, and Brooks kept sleeping like hibernating turtles, which was pretty amazing considering it had sounded like someone had taken a giant sledgehammer to church bells.
The tree vibrated and hummed like a guitar string. Its cobwebs trembled, falling from the branches and trunk to reveal… I blinked. It was like in my dream—a metallic tree, and in it I saw my warped reflection. Tall kid with a left lean, messy dark hair, square shoulders, and wide-set eyes that looked afraid. Definitely not the guy you’d bet on to take down the god of death. But you want to know the weird thing? My reflection had something in his hand—not a cane, but something else. I couldn’t quite make it out.
Flakes began to fall from the sky, slowly twisting to the ground. I caught some and smudged them between my finger and thumb. Ash. I looked up. There was a hairline crack running across the black sky. What did that mean? Was this world going to fall apart like the twins’ world had?
I took a step closer to the masked figure and just as I did, it darted away. I went after it. And you know what I was thinking the whole time? I really shouldn’t be chasing this thing. Shouldn’t. Shouldn’t. Shouldn’t.
He, she—it—was quick. I tried my best not to fall behind. Every once in a while my short leg would make me stumble and I’d fall, landing on sticky cobwebbed leaves.
Then the figure slowed and looked over its shoulder like it wanted to make sure I was following. Was this some kind of trap? “Hey!” I called, getting to my feet for the third time. “Who are you?”
A girl’s voice bounced off the trees: “Pick up the pace, Obispo.”
How did she know who I was? I already didn’t like her.
We came to a small glade. She stopped about ten feet away, keeping her back to me. I was glad for the chance to catch my breath. “Are you… are you the Sparkstriker?” I huffed, bent over with my hands on my knees. Fortunately, I remembered in time something Jazz had told me while we were walking to Puksí’ikal: No one can look at her face without their eyes burning out of their head.
The Storm Runner Page 27
