The musk grew stronger. I fought the urge to clear my throat. I could taste it on the back of my tongue. Next to me, Sean grimaced and kept going.
The tunnel ended, and we emerged into a round plaza formed by a single circular building. Three oversized stories high, the building stretched to the sky, offering rows and rows of balconies and stone benches. Strange creatures and elaborate glyphs had been carved into its sandy stone fa?ade, once sharp, but now smoothed and blurred by elements and time.
The plaza itself was perfectly round, formed with remarkable precision and paved with giant triangular slabs of stone that radiated from its center. In the middle of it two stone towers rose, each shaped like a fifty-foot-tall, three-dimensional crescent. The two crescents faced each other, crowned with green flames burning in metal braziers at their apexes.
“This is the Old Arena,” I whispered.
Sean glanced at me.
“They used to have gladiator fights here thousands of years ago, before they built the other two arenas. See that gate across from us? The gladiators entered there and then fought to the death. When a fighter died, their flame would go out.”
Something shiny caught the light at the base of the closest crescent. I squinted. A metal bug as big as my fist. There was another one on top of this crescent, and two more at the opposite tower. Soot marked the stone around the bugs. Sean was right. Someone had set up a short-term portal. The beetles packed enough power for a couple of hours and then burned themselves out.
Directly opposite us, something stirred in the gloom of the gate. Something large.
A massive leonine paw moved into the light, easily five feet across. Claws shot out and struck the stone.
Oh no.
A colossal shoulder followed, then the other, then the broad muscular chest sheathed in sandy fur, a thick neck crowned with a dark rust mane, and finally the giant head, a strange, disturbing mix of lion and human, anthropomorphic, horrifying, yet cohesive. This wasn’t a mishmash of two species. This was a naturally evolved being, who just happened to resemble a huge predatory cat with human eyes on its face.
Sean’s upper lip wrinkled in a precursor to a snarl. If there ever was a monster designed to terrify his people, an Auul kaiju guaranteed to evoke instant revulsion among the werewolves, the creature in front of us would be it.
“Is that the witness?” I asked.
“Yep.”
A sphinx. Crap.
4
When we last left our intrepid heroes, they found clues that Wilmos’ disappearance was linked to the corrupted ad-hal threat encountered in previous adventures. A most mythical guardian now stands in the way to more answers.
Settle in for a guessing game.
The sphinx approached, his movements unhurried, almost lazy, circled the two towers, and lowered himself to the ground. His head was by the left tower, his tail by the right. He curled around the two spires like a cat clutching a toy to his belly. The huge gold hoops in his ears tinkled.
Sean watched him. He wasn’t focusing on him the way he sometimes zeroed in on his opponent. Rather he was watching him with the detachment of a satiated wolf seeing a bunny hop around in a distant field, curious, but not enough to get up. It was a ruse. Sean was all in. The sphinx had put himself between Sean and Wilmos, and Sean wouldn’t tolerate that.
The sphinx stretched. The sun slid over his isabelline fur, highlighting the paler belly and chest and drawing the eye to the rust-brown bands on his limbs and tail. A thick line of darker fur ran from the inner corners of his brilliant violet-blue eyes over his upper lids to the outer corners and across his cheeks, a feature that once inspired centuries of kohl eyeliner.
“No wings?” Sean murmured.
“We don’t want to see the wings.”
“You came back,” the sphinx purred. His deep voice reverberated through me. “And you brought a friend.”
This was bad.
“Did he ask you any questions?” I whispered.
“I offered to answer his question if he solves my riddle.” The sphinx studied the claws of his right forepaw. “He declined.”
I exhaled.
“Would you like to solve my riddle?”
“No. Why are you here? Your kind is not permitted at Baha-char.”
The creature’s tanzanite eyes flashed with an angry fire. “Permitted? I go where I please.”
Only four dark rings on his tail, and the gold hoops in his ears were simple. This was a very young sphinx, an adolescent. Fully grown adults had seven rings and their jewelry was ornate and elaborate. This one couldn’t be more than 300 years old.
“It’s a simple bargain,” the sphinx said. “Solve my riddle, and I will tell you where the thing took the old werewolf. Is it your father, your grandfather, male human? Is he family? I would do anything for the sake of my family.”
“Don’t,” I warned Sean.
The sphinx inhaled, sucking the air in. A slight draft pulled on my hair and robe.
His eyes flashed again. “I smell fear. Scared little werewolf. Don’t be afraid. There is nothing to worry about. I promise to make your riddle very simple. Just hard enough for your little brain.”
“Don’t answer that,” I told Sean.
There had to be a way around it.
“I’ll do it!”
I turned. The female werewolf from earlier strode into the arena, her head held high. Oh no.
“You don’t know what you’re doing,” I started.
“Be quiet, human.” She marched forward, giving Sean a look of withering scorn. “Ask your riddle. I’ll answer.”
The sphinx pivoted toward her.
“You’re in danger. This is a terrible idea,” I told her. “He—"
“Unlike some people, I’m not a coward.” She faced the sphinx.
“Stop!” Sean snapped.
She ignored him. “Ask your riddle.”
Magic swirled around the sphinx. Two massive golden wings thrust from its back, unfolding, each synthetic feather sharp like a glossy metal blade. A shadow fell upon the arena as they blocked the sunlight.
“The pact has been made,” the sphinx announced.
Thin tendrils of gold light wound about the werewolf woman, binding her in place.
“Say my name, and I will disappear. What am I?”
The werewolf woman opened her mouth. Uncertainty flared in her eyes.
“Not another word,” I said. “If you answer wrong, he will devour your mind.”
The sphinx’s feline lips stretched, revealing a row of four-foot fangs, white and sharp like swords.
The werewolf woman paled.
“This is why they’re banned from Baha-char,” I told her. “They trap beings with their riddles and when they don’t get the right answer, they absorb their minds. Your body will live on, but you will not. Don’t say anything. Don’t even cough. He can’t touch you until you make a sound.”
She clamped her lips shut.
I had to save her. I had to do something.
Sean had a familiar contemplative look on his face. There were many species Sean could kill with a knife, but a battle with the sphinx would be incredibly difficult. No, we needed to beat him on his own terms. We needed…
Wait.
“I’ll be right back. Sean, don’t do anything until I come back.”
I took off at a run. Behind me the low rumble of sphinx’s chuckle rolled through the Old Arena.