CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THE GAUNTLET

As I expected, the temple, though huge from the outside, didn’t conform to normal space. The first room we came to, past the long, narrow hallway, was a large, open courtyard, surrounded by walls and covered in moss. Strange beams of light slanted down from somewhere above, and broken statues, pillars and enormous stones were scattered throughout. The chamber looked like a miniature labyrinth of crumbled walls, archways and columns, covered in vines and shattered with the weight of time.

Ahead of us, a pair of huge double doors stood atop a platform, guarded by two hulking stone creatures, one on either side. The statues looked like a cross between a lion and some sort of monstrous canine, with broad heads, curling manes and thick, clawed forepaws.

“Fu dogs,” Puck mused as we approached the doors, hopping over shattered pillars and crumbling archways. “You know, I met a Fu dog once in Beijing. Persistent bastard chased me all over the temple grounds. Seemed to think I was some kind of evil spirit.”

“Imagine that,” Grimalkin muttered, and the Wolf snorted with laughter. Puck flicked a pebble at him.

“These aren’t like the standard variety,” Puck continued, making a face at the stone guardians. “They’re bigger, for one. And older. Good thing they’re not real Fu dogs, eh? We’d be in big trouble if—”

And of course at that point, a loud grinding sound echoed through the room, as both statues turned their heads to stare at us.

I sighed. “You should know better by now, Goodfellow.”

“I know. I just can’t help it.”

With snarling roars, the pair of massive stone guardians leaped from their bases, landing with deafening booms on the rocky floor, shaking the ground. Their eyes burned with an emerald fire in their craggy faces, their paws crushed the stones beneath them and their bellowing voices filled the chamber. Grimalkin vanished, the Wolf added his own howling roar to the cacophony, and the Fu dogs lowered their heads and charged.

As one Fu dog barreled past, I vaulted aside, cutting at its flank as it thundered by. My blade screeched off the stony hide, leaving a trail of frost and a shallow scratch, but the monster didn’t even notice. It plowed headfirst into a stone pillar, smashing it to rubble, before it whirled around, completely unharmed, and lowered its head for another charge.

An ice arrow shattered off the broad muzzle as the Fu dog galloped toward me, as Ariella tried to catch its attention, but it didn’t slow the dog. I dodged as it roared by, plowing straight through a wall like a furious bull, showering itself with rocks. A quick glance showed Puck bound onto a pillar to avoid the second statue, which simply rammed its head into the stone base to knock the pillar down. Puck managed to hop onto a second column as the Wolf lunged at the Fu dog, fangs flashing for its thick neck. He bounced off the stony hide with a yelp that was more anger than pain, and the Fu dog whirled around to attack.

This wasn’t working. And we didn’t have time to play keep-away with a pair of murderous stone giants. “Retreat!” I called, ducking behind a headless statue to avoid being trampled by the first guardian, which grunted and spun around before hitting anything. “Puck, get to the doors, we don’t have time for this!”

“Oh sure, prince! You make it sound so easy!”

The Fu dog attacking me rumbled a growl and stalked forward. Apparently it had given up blindly charging forward in the hopes of smashing me into paste. From the corner of my eye, I spotted Ariella pulling back her bow for another shot, and waved her back without taking my attention from the dog.

“Ari, don’t worry about me. Just go.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! Get to the doors—I’ll be right behind you.”

Ariella slipped behind a wall and out of sight. The Fu dog glanced her way, growling, but I hurled an ice dagger at its face, smashing it right between the eyes, bringing its attention back to me with a roar.

It lunged forward, teeth bared, claws raking deep gouges in the floor. As it pounced, I leaped up, vaulting off its snout and landing on its broad shoulders. For a split second, I saw a flash of gold on its bright red collar, but then I was hurtling off its back and running toward the doors, where Puck and Ariella waited for me.

The Wolf was keeping the other Fu dog busy, dancing around and snapping at its back feet as it whirled on him. As I bounded up the stairs, the guardian turned on me with a snarl, but the Wolf lunged forward and slammed his shoulder into it, rocking it back, keeping its focus on him. I reached Puck and Ariella, who looked grave as they turned to me.

“No good.” Puck frowned and punched the stone door, making a hollow thump. “The sucker won’t budge. I think there’s a key or something to open it. Look.”

He pointed to the doors, where two indentations side by side formed perfect half circles that met where the two doors came together, making a full sphere. A key of some sort, which probably meant it was lost or hidden somewhere in the room. With the two Fu dogs. I sighed in frustration.

“The collars, you fools.” Grimalkin appeared on one of the statue bases, ears back, lashing his tail. “Look at their collars. Must I do everything around here?” He vanished again, just as a Fu dog charged up the steps and lunged at us.

We dove aside, and the dog rammed into the doors with a boom that shook the ceiling. Shaking its head, it backed off, and I saw that same flash of gold around its neck, like a tag. Or a globe that had been cut in half…

I glanced at Puck. “You take one, I’ll get the other?”

“You’re on, ice-boy.”

We scattered to different corners of the room, Ariella following me, Puck leaping down to help the Wolf. As I’d hoped, my Fu dog stalked us persistently through the labyrinthine ruins, shattering pillars and bursting through walls to give chase.

“What’s the plan?’ Ariella whispered as we ducked around a corner, pressing our backs against the wall. A few feet away, the Fu dog stalked past, growling, so close I could’ve reached around the corner and touched it. Several aisles over, somewhere in the maze, I heard a crash and saw a cloud of dust billow into the air; the second guardian was close.

“Stay here,” I told Ariella. “Get out of sight. I want that thing to focus on me and nothing else. If Puck does what he’s supposed to, this should be over soon.” A pillar toppled over nearby, followed by a frustrated snarl. “Head toward the door and wait for us,” I continued. “Find Grim and the Wolf if you can. We’ll be there as soon as we can with the keys.”

“How—” Ariella began, but with a crash and a shattering of stone, the Fu dog burst through a nearby wall and roared as it spotted me.

I took off, sprinting deeper into the ruins, hearing the guardian close on my heels. Rocks flew and statues shattered into marble dust as the massive stone creature hurled itself through the aisles after me.

I turned the corner of a dilapidated wall, and suddenly Puck was there, running straight at me from the opposite direction. His green eyes widened as we closed, but it was what I was looking for. We both immediately dove aside as the Fu dogs turned the corner and slammed into each other with a crack that shook the earth.

The force rocked the two stone giants back, and for a moment they stood still, completely dazed. I saw one had a broken nose, and the other had a crack running down its face like a jagged scar. Lying on his stomach on the other side of the aisle, Puck raised himself to his elbows and grinned in triumph.

“You know, no matter how often I see that, it never gets old.”

I scrambled to my feet. “Grab the key,” I snapped, approaching one Fu dog. Still dazed, it didn’t notice me as I stepped up and snatched the golden half orb from around its neck. Puck did the same with the second one, pausing a moment to grin at the stupefied guardian.

“Bet that stung, didn’t it?” he said, waving the orb in front of the dog’s face. “Yeah, that’ll give you a headache for weeks. That’s what you get for being so bullheaded.”

“Puck!” I turned to glare at him. “Stop being an idiot and let’s get out of here.”

Puck laughed and sauntered toward me, tossing the half orb in one hand. “Ah, the oldies are always the goodies,” he muttered, joining me at the corner. “Hey, remember when we pulled that little stunt on the minotaurs? They were so out of it they—”

Two very low, very angry growls stopped him midsentence. I shot Puck a death glare, and he gave a feeble smile.

“I know, I know. You’re going to kill me.”

We fled through the ruins, the spheres clutched tightly in hand, the Fu dogs crashing behind us. No side trips or luring the dogs around corners this time; we went straight for the doors, taking the shortest route possible. I saw Ariella at the foot of the stairs, her bow pulled back and aimed at the dogs, her lips drawn into a thin line of frustration. She knew her arrows could do no more than make the Fu dogs blink. The last hundred yards to the stairs was the most dangerous, flat and open, with nothing to slow down our pursuers. I felt the ground shake with their galloping footsteps as they closed the distance.

Then the Wolf flew over a broken wall in a dark blur, slamming into one of the Fu dogs, causing it to careen into the second. Knocked off balance, the statues went crashing into a wall, tumbling over each other with the grinding sound of a derailed train. Panting triumphantly, the Wolf bounded up the stairs with us, joining Ariella and now Grimalkin, who appeared at the door lashing his tail with impatience.

“Quickly!” he spat, as Puck and I sprinted up. “Insert the keys!”

“You know, you can’t just disappear and then pop up shouting orders when the rest of us did all the work,” Puck said as we reached the doors. Grimalkin hissed at him.

“There is no time to argue your stupidity, Goodfellow. The guardians are coming. The keys—”

A roar drowned him out as the Fu dogs reached the top of the stairs, shaking their heads in fury. Trapped against the doors, we couldn’t move away as they lunged forward with eager howls. The Wolf snarled in return and leaped forward to meet them as Grimalkin flattened his ears and spat at us.

“The keys must be inserted at the same time! Do it, now!”

I glanced at Puck, nodded, and we slammed the orbs into the indentions, feeling them click as they slid into place.

I looked back, ready to dart aside, but the second the keys clicked in the lock, the guardians froze. As the doors swung open, tiny cracks appeared along the dog’s stony hides, growing larger and spreading across their bodies until, as one, they split apart and crumbled, strewing debris and rubble along the steps.

I sighed in relief, then pushed myself off the frame. There was no time to savor this victory. “Hurry,” I said, urging everyone through the doorway. “If that’s just the first challenge, we don’t have any time to spare.” The Guardian had not said exactly how long we had to complete the gauntlet, but I had the distinct impression that every second would prove precious.

“Man, your hooded friend really doesn’t believe in easing you into this,” Puck commented as we ducked through the doors and jogged down a hallway. Stone dragon heads lined the wall every few feet, jaws frozen in permanent snarls. “If that first challenge was supposed to be the easiest, we could be in a lot of trouble.”

“What did you think this would be, Goodfellow?” Grimalkin said, bounding along ahead of us. “A pleasant walk in the park? They do not call it the gauntlet for nothing.”

“Hey, I’ve run a few gauntlets in my time,” Puck shot back. “They’re basically all the same—you have your physical challenges, a pointless riddle or two, and there’s always a few nasty—”

A gout of flame erupted from one of the stone dragon’s jaws, searing the air over Grimalkin as he passed in front of it. Fortunately, the cat was too short to be harmed, but it made the rest of us skid to a halt.

“—traps,” Puck finished, and winced. “Well, I should’ve seen that coming.”

“Do not stop!” Grimalkin called back, still sprinting ahead. “Keep going, and do not look back!”

“Easy for you to say!” Puck yelled, but then the dull roar behind us made me glance over my shoulder and curse. All the dragon heads we had just passed were beginning to spout flame, and those flames were coming down the hall toward us.

We ran.

The hallway seemed to go on forever, and there were a few close calls that involved jumping or diving beneath jets of flame, and of course there was the inevitable pit at the very end that we barely managed to clear, but we made it through with minimal burns. Ariella’s sleeve caught fire once, and the end of the Wolf’s tail was singed, but no one was seriously hurt.

Panting, we stumbled through the arch into the next room, where Grimalkin stood on a broken pillar, waiting for us.

“Ugh,” Puck groaned, brushing cinders from his shirt. “Well, that was fun, though a bit on the clichéd side. Way too Temple of Doom for me. So, where are we now?”

I scanned the room, which was vast, circular and carpeted in fine white sand, lying in dunes and hills like a miniature desert. Columns and pillars were scattered throughout the chamber, most broken or lying on their sides, half-buried in the dust. Vines dangled from a vast domed ceiling, impossibly far away, and roots snaked through the crumbling walls. In the faint beams of light, dust motes floated in the air. I had the impression that if I dropped a pebble in this room, it would hang in the air forever, suspended in time.

In the middle of the room, an enormous stone dais rose from the sand, the remains of four thick marble pillars spaced evenly along the edge. On either side of the dais, two elegant winged statues crouched, primly facing one another, the tips of their spread wings nearly touching the ceiling. They had the bodies of huge, sleek cats, paws and flanks resting in the sand, but their faces were of cold yet beautiful women. Eyes closed, the sphinxes sat motionless, guarding a pair of stone doors beyond them. Climbing onto the dais, we stopped at the edge, gazing up at the enormous creatures. Though the doors were only a few yards beyond the sphinxes’ massive paws, no one moved to step between them.

“Huh.” Puck leaned back, peering up at the statues’ impassive faces. “A sphinx riddle, is it? How positively charming. Do you think they’ll try to eat us if we get it wrong?”

“You,” Grimalkin said, lacing back his ears, “will remain silent in this, Goodfellow. Sphinxes do not take kindly to flippancy, and your ill-contrived remarks will not be well received.”

“Hey,” Puck shot back, crossing his arms, “I’ll have you know, I’ve tangled with sphinxes before, cat. You’re not the only one who knows his way around a riddle.”

“Shut up,” the Wolf growled at both of them, and pointed his muzzle skyward. “Something is happening.”

We held our breath and waited. For a moment, everything was still. Then, as one, the sphinxes’ eyes opened, all brilliant blue-white with no irises or pupils, staring straight ahead. Still, I could feel their ancient, calculating gaze on me as a warm breeze hissed through the room and the statues spoke, their voices quivering with ancient wisdom and power.

Time is the cog that turns the wheel.

Winter leaves scars that do not heal.

Summer is a fire that burns inside.

Spring a terrible burden to hide.

Autumn and death go hand in hand.

One answer lies within the sand.

But seek the answer all alone,

Lest the sand claim you as its own.

* * *

“Er, sorry,” Puck said as the voices ceased and silence fell over the dunes again. “But could you repeat that? A little slower this time?”

The sphinxes stood silent. Their blue eyes shut, as quickly as a door slamming, and did not stir again.

But, something was stirring around us. The sand was shifting, moving, as if millions of snakes writhed below the surface. And then, the sand erupted, and countless scorpions, small, black and shiny, spilled from beneath the dunes and poured toward us.

Puck yelped and the Wolf snarled, the hair on his back and neck standing up. We crowded together on the platform, drawing our weapons, as the ground became a mass of wiggling bodies, crawling over one another, until we couldn’t see the sand through the carpet of living, writhing black.

“You know, I think I’d rather be eaten by the sphinxes,” Puck exclaimed. He had to shout to be heard over the chittering that filled the air, the clicking of millions of tiny legs skittering over each other. “If anyone has a plan, or an idea, or a can of scorpion repellant, I’d love to hear about it.”

“But, look.” Ariella pointed over the edge of the platform. “They’re not attacking. They’re not coming any closer.”

I peered over the edge and saw it was true. The scorpions surged against the stone wall, flowing around it like a rock in a stream, but they weren’t climbing the three feet it would take to get to us.

“They will not attack us,” Grimalkin said calmly, sitting well away from the edge, I noted. “Not yet. Not unless we answer the riddle incorrectly. So, do not worry. We have a little time.”

“Right.” Puck didn’t look reassured. “And this is the part where you tell us you know the answer, right?”

Grimalkin thumped his tail. “I am thinking,” he said loftily, and closed his eyes. His tail twitched, but other than that, the cat didn’t move, leaving the rest of us to gaze around nervously and wait.

Impatient and restless, I scuffed a boot over the stone floor, then stopped. In front of one of the broken pillars, half-buried in sand, I saw letters carved into the stone. M-E-M-O-R. Kneeling down, I brushed away the dirt to reveal the entire word.

Memory.

Something stirred in my mind, an idea still too hazy to make out, like a forgotten name keeping just out of reach. I had something here, I just couldn’t bring it together.

“Look for other words,” I told Puck, who’d come up behind me, peering over my shoulder to see what I was doing. “There have to be others.”

Memory, knowledge, strength and regret. Those were the words we uncovered, carved into the stone floor in front of each broken pillar. With each one we unearthed, the hazy puzzle pieces started to join, though still not enough to form the whole picture.

“Okay.” Puck dragged his hands down his face, scrubbing his eyes. “Think, Goodfellow. What do memory, knowledge, strength, and regret have to do with the four seasons?”

“It’s not the seasons,” I said quietly, as the pieces slid into place. “It’s us.”

Puck frowned at me. “Care to explain that logic, prince?”

“Winter leaves scars that do not heal,” I recited, recalling the second line of the riddle. “Doesn’t make much sense, does it?” I pointed to a pillar. “But, replace it with that word, and see what you get.”

“Memory leaves scars that do not heal,” Puck said automatically. He frowned again, then his eyes widened, looking at me. “Oh.”

The Wolf growled, curling a lip at the pillar as if it was a waiting demon disguised as a rock. “So, we are to believe that the answer to this riddle, this ancient puzzle that has stood here for countless centuries, is us?”

“Yes.” In the center of the platform, Grimalkin opened his eyes. “The prince is correct. I have reached the same conclusion.” He gazed calmly around the platform, pausing at each of the four broken pillars. “Memory, knowledge, strength, regret. The seasons represent the four of us, so we must match the right word to the correct stanza.”

“But, there are five of us,” Ariella pointed out. “Five of us, but only four pillars. Which means one of us is missing. Or, left out.”

“We shall see,” Grimalkin mused, unconcerned. “First, though, we must figure out the rest of the puzzle. I believe the prince has already found his place. What about you, Goodfellow?” He looked at Puck, twitching his tail. “Summer is a fire that burns inside. What word best describes you? Knowledge has never been your strong suit. Strength…perhaps.”

“Regret.” Puck sighed, with a quick glance at me. “Regret is a fire that burns inside. It’s regret, so shut up and get on with the others.” He moved toward the pillar opposite me, crossing his arms and leaning against it.

The scorpions were getting louder, more frantic, as if they knew we were scant seconds away from solving the riddle. Their legs and carapaces scraped against the rock, an ocean of noise surging around us. Grimalkin sniffed and shared a glance with the Wolf.

“I believe the last two are fairly obvious, are they not?” he mused, sauntering toward the pillar that said Knowledge. “I do agree, knowledge is sometimes a terrible burden. The last pillar is yours, dog. I do not think we can argue your strength. Your intelligence, perhaps, but not your strength.”

“What about Ariella?” I glanced at her, looking a bit lost on the edge of the platform. “She has the burden of knowledge as well, not just you, cait sith.”

“Ariella is a Winter fey, and we already have a Winter,” Grimalkin replied easily, hopping onto the broken pillar of Knowledge, peering down at us all. “And I think you would be in favor of solving this quickly, prince. In any case, I believe we have to stand on the pillars together. That is generally how these puzzles work.”

The Wolf growled, leaping atop the broken stone, huge paws close together on the edge. “If this does not work, cat, I will make sure to eat you first before the scorpions get to us,” he muttered, balanced precariously on the small platform. Grimalkin ignored him.

Puck and I followed suit, jumping easily onto the broken pillars, as the sea of scorpions chittered and writhed below us. For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then, the sphinxes’ eyes opened, searing blue, their voices echoing through the room.

“You—” they breathed, sending a ripple of power over the sand “—have chosen…incorrectly.”

“What!” Puck yelped, but it was drowned by the furious buzz of millions of scorpions, stirred into a frenzy. “No, that can’t be right. Furball’s never wrong! Wait—”

“You—” the sphinxes breathed again “—will die.”

I drew my sword, tensing to drop down as the scorpions rushed forward, scaling the platform and spilling over the edge. Ariella gasped and stumbled backward, as the living carpet of claws and legs and stingers began covering the platform.

“Stay where you are!” Grimalkin’s voice rang through the chamber, booming and steely with authority. We froze, and the cat turned wild golden eyes on Ariella, baring his teeth, all his fur standing on end. “Time!” he spat, flattening his ears. “Time is the fifth answer, the cog that turns the wheel! Stand in the center now!”

I clenched my fists as Ariella ran to the middle of the platform, the flood of scorpions closing in from all sides. They swarmed up the pillars, crawling over my clothes, legs and pinchers digging into my flesh. I lashed out and sent dozens of them flying, but of course there were always more. They were not stinging…yet. But I felt the seconds ticking away, and knew that if the creatures beat Ariella to the heart of the dais, we were finished. Puck yelled a curse, flailing wildly, and the Wolf roared in fury as Ariella finally reached the center of the dais.

As soon as she set foot in the middle, a shiver went through the air, starting from the center of the dais and spreading outward, like ripples on a pond. The flood of scorpions halted, inches from swarming Ariella, and started flowing backward, leaving the platform and crawling down from the pillars. I shook the last of the tiny predators off me and watched the carpet recede, disappearing beneath the sands once more. In seconds, they had vanished completely, and the dunes were still.

“You have chosen…correctly,” the sphinxes whispered, and closed their eyes again.

Ariella was shaking. I leaped from the platform and went to her, wordlessly pulling her close. She trembled in my arms for a moment, then gently freed herself and drew away, smoothing her hair back.

“Wow,” Puck muttered, dusting off the front of his shirt, “now, that was weird. And to think, I never thought I’d live to see the day….” He trailed off, grinning.

I eyed him wearily. “Fine, I’ll bite. You don’t mean the scorpions or the sphinx. We’ve seen much stranger than that.”

“No, ice-boy. I never thought I’d see the day when Grimalkin was wrong.”

Grimalkin, still on his broken pillar, didn’t react, but I saw his whiskers bristle as he glanced our way. “Goodfellow,” he said with an enormous yawn, “I feel obliged to point out that, had I been wrong, you would all be full of tiny holes right now. Anyway, we are wasting time. I suggest we move out, quickly. I certainly do not wish to be stuck here until the end of time with any of you.” And before we could reply, he leaped down and trotted off in the direction of the now-open door, passing between the sphinxes with his tail held high.

I looked at Puck, smirking. “I think you offended him, Goodfellow.”

He snorted. “If I ever worried about that, I’d never open my mouth.”