How were they going to get through this?

Maybe Marika’s father was wrong.

Maybe Jake wasn’t the true Key of Time.

A screech rose behind them.

They all turned as Heka landed heavily.

Hunched into a crouch, she smiled, baring her fangs. Her wings fluttered back from her shoulders, battered by the storm’s edge. She had crossed this deadly barrier before and knew she had them trapped against its flesh-scouring winds.

Heka stalked forward. Squinting against the sand, she raised her staff topped by the ruby timestone. She clearly meant to end this once and for all.

Unable to get to his own crystal in time, Jake grabbed the only thing he could. Reaching out, he took Marika’s hand and latched onto his Ur friend’s wrist. Jake had sheltered his friends’ passage through the barrier to get here. He had to do the same now or die trying.

With his back to the storm, he took a full step into the teeth of the gale, then another. Grainy winds whipped like sandpaper, tearing at clothes, stinging skin. Lightning chased overhead.

His friends leaned against him.

Heka cocked her head like an inquisitive bird studying a worm, but curiosity only bought so much time.

With a wrench of her arm, she slammed her staff into the sand.

29

STORM CROSSING

Again the petrifying spell of the timestone rippled outward, turning the sand to dark gray. Behind the witch, it washed over a few stray harpies who had followed her to the storm’s border, turning them into statues with startled expressions fixed to their bestial features. One straggler tried to flee; but the wave struck just as it leaped, freezing it to a stone in midair before it crashed back to the sand.

Jake prepared to suffer the same fate.

But as the dark ripple hit the storm’s edge, it stopped. A few inches away, the line was as straight as a chalk line on a baseball field, as if the spell were afraid to enter the storm. If true, that could mean only one thing.

“We’re in the storm,” Marika said.

“In time’s river,” Bach’uuk added, his brow furrowed in thought.

Jake sensed that Bach’uuk was pondering something important, but now was not the time for questions. He matched gazes with Heka. She seemed equally surprised that they had made it into the storm and still lived. To make sure, he moved them all deeper. The winds still screamed, and sand ripped across their exposed skin, but they were still alive.

With each step, the storm of sand thickened. Jake lost sight of the camp, of the battle. At least the fighting had been beyond the reach of the witch’s petrifying spell.

Marika’s grip suddenly tightened on him. She pointed with her other arm. “Jake!”

The image of the witch grew clearer through the blowing sand. She had pushed into the storm, following them. And she wasn’t alone. With a ripping shriek, she summoned the horde to her. Dark shapes dove into the winds. The harpies made their home here and were returning to their roost—and they clearly didn’t like trespassers.