It is essential that you use what you find,
For only it will befit the holder of time.
The suns' gazes linger when on time's quarter.
When fast do lag, the slow remain hoarders.
But if you give what's meant to be given,
The orb is yours, completing thy mission.
The riddle kept playing in Zain's mind as he paced around the sundial. After receiving it, he had gone to the library and found there was only one sundial on the Central Core, and it was located in Funjhi Desert. He was pretty confident in his observations, for the references to time and the suns' gazes couldn't mean otherwise.
His fingers caressed the rough granite pillar that sprouted from the ground. The sundial had been cut to resemble two cupped hands. The shadow pointed to two forty-five, but Zain needed to wait until three. That was time's quarter, after all.
As he paced, he looked around at the surroundings. Trees bordered a small lake near the sundial. To the north were larger sand dunes, and to the south there were only dunes, boulders, and a rusty sword, which, for whatever reason, was sticking up in the middle of nowhere, hard to miss, for it was at the bottom of a large sand dune that Zain had needed to climb. He hadn't picked it up because he already had a sword. A good one at that.
His gaze darted to and fro and then back to the sundial. It was close now. Was someone hiding behind the sand dunes or the boulders, waiting for him? Tundra mentioned there was another contestant with the same riddle. Where were they? He kept an eye on the time, but unease still rippled through him. Don't second guess yourself.
Zain clenched one fist. This was it. Three o'clock.
A loud, grinding sound erupted from the sundial. Where the shadow struck three, a slot opened. Heart pounding, Zain consulted his riddle once more.
But if you give what's meant to be given,
The orb is yours, completing thy mission.
"What is meant to be given?" Zain examined the slot. It was the perfect shape for a sword. Am I to give mine? He read through the riddle again.
It is essential that you use what you find.
Images of the rusty sword danced through his mind. The sword, the sword. Am I supposed to use the sword? He turned and backtracked, but he only got as far as a nearby boulder before there was a grinding noise behind him. The slot was closing. How much time is left?
He ran back and gripped the sundial's base. This will have to do. He unsheathed his sword and held it to the Axiumé. Fluidly he pushed it down, forcing it into the slot. A motor inside clunked.
Stillness. Silence. Sound.
A grinding. A crack. A hiss.
Steel fell around him like rain, and Zain covered his neck and head. Broken pieces littered the ground. My sword. It's . . . it's ruined.
He scrambled to pick up the shards, sharp and hot to the touch. No. No. No. This can't be happening. Try as he might, he couldn't gather them all. He ignored the burning in his hands and the pain of poking shards. I can still win. I need to still win. I can put this back together.
"Another trial lost."
Zakk! His ears perked. His skin prickled. He looked around but saw no one. His friend couldn't be here. Zakk was dead. Was he hearing things? "Show yourself!" Zain gripped a piece of broken sword like a dagger. The blade bit into his hand, drawing blood. "I'm not afraid of you."
"Everything in your voice tells me you are." A cackle followed.
Steel being drawn chimed the air. Zain recognized that sound anywhere. A strike flashed toward his right. Zain closed his eyes and held up his makeshift dagger to block it. It was knocked away. Zain used his own hands to shield his neck and head—the blood sticky and warm. His breathing heightened. "No. No. No. . . ." He looked at the shards still on the ground. A boot stepped in front of him. Zain blinked. He looked up. Nothing.
"You can't even face me. Pitiful."
The blood from his hands mixed in with the sand, sticky and gritty. They became heavy. Zain clenched them, thinking back to how Zakk's hands felt as he let go of them. His eyes started to blur. Shadows shimmied around him, even amid daylight. A jolt to the left side of his face; the grainy sand kissed him. He pushed himself up. Then he was knocked down to the other side. Teeth rattled inside his mouth.
"Did you enjoy killing me, Zain?"
The sound of swords slashing through air stung Zain's ears. Armor jerked violently on his back. Steel dragged up his arms toward his shoulders. He shuddered when he felt the steel on the back of his neck. "Stop! Stop! Please, stop!" Tears traveled down his cheeks, ending up on the hot, sandy floor.
Hot breath kissed his ear. "Knowledge is power. Learn it."
Then it was over. Seconds seemed like minutes. Zain just lay in the fetal position, broken and bloodied. Weakly he tore a piece of fabric from his undershirt and wrapped it around both hands, laden with slits from the shards of sword. Red soaked into white, just like the sand soaked his tears. He stared at his shattered sword. It lay there. Broken. Like Zain. Is Zakk alive? That was his voice, I know it was.
"Hey, you be okay?" A hand touched his back.
Zain jolted and scurried away. It was only Cadmar. "Did you see him?"
"See who?"
Zain shivered and rubbed his hands up his arms. Blood smeared them through the cloth. Zain crawled on his knees to Cadmar. "Zakk. He was here. Zakk was here!"
"Who's Zakk? No one was here. Did I miss the trial?"
Cadmar held the rusty sword in his hand. Zain returned upright to his feet, his mind speeding like a hovercraft. Cadmar is here. Cadmar and Hydro won the last trial. If Hydro wins, two points separate us. Only Cadmar could tie him then before the fourth trial.
Regardless of whether the prince acquired his prize or not, Zain needed to make sure he was there to stop Hydro if he had. One more trial was all he needed to win. But he had no weapon. His sword lay broken to pieces in the sand splotched with red. Cadmar held a sword though. Zain turned to see Cadmar bending over the sundial.
"You're too late," Zain said. He inched closer. His hand slid up to his chest pocket, which housed his knife.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean . . ." Zain gripped the leather handle and pulled. It came out clean. He inched closer. He threw and caught the knife in his hand, feeling its lightness.
Cadmar turned around.
"I'm sorry."
With his free hand, Zain hit Cadmar across the face and then tackled him. The giant flailed and tried to throw Zain, who put the knife to his throat. Cadmar's flailing arms went limp. He looked Zain in the eyes. After a quick glance, Zain moved his gaze toward the knife. His hand was shaking, but it was there, right underneath the neck. He thought about how Gabrielle had done the same thing to him. He looked back to Cadmar's eyes. Were my eyes this confident?
"If you be killing me, get it over with already."
"I just want the sword." Zain's hand shook; his breathing tightened.
Releasing the sword, Cadmar never took his gaze off Zain, who pressed the knife down on Cadmar's throat and then leaned to get the sword. Once he felt it in his grasp, Zain put it in the sheath his other sword had been in. The giant scanned him.
He's waiting for me to get up. I'll need to be fast about this. Zain tightened the grip on the knife and pulled back from Cadmar's neck. As soon as he did so, he threw an elbow to the giant's face and sheathed his knife. By the time Zain got to his feet, Cadmar had straightened his posture again. As Zain kicked sand into Cadmar's face, he strung a list of words together that Zain had never heard before. Then. He ran.
With the minor distractions Zain had caused, he could certainly outrun the man. But could he outrun time? Was Hydro already there? Somewhere past the dunes and boulders and shifting sand, Eska's estate stood, calling him back. With each shuffle of his feet, his head throbbed and ticked. Throbbed and ticked. Throbbed and ticked.