“Japan is an island country in the Pacific Ocean,” Tom told her. “We’re a long way from home.”
“Wherever we are, Tlaloc’s gold coin is here somewhere,” said Zuma. “You don’t think it’s hidden in all this grass, do you? We’ll be here forever.”
“And it would be the most boring quest ever,” Tom added.
“It doesn’t sound like Tlaloc’s style, does it?” Zuma said. “He’s much more of a ‘horrible screaming danger’ type of god.”
“Why don’t you ask your necklace?” Tom suggested. “It helped us before.”
Zuma’s necklace had a black pendant with special powers. Last time they had travelled through time, it had given them a riddle with clues to help them find the gold coin.
“Good idea,” said Zuma. She grinned. “I knew there was a reason I let you come along.”
Holding up the black pendant, Zuma chanted:
“Mirror, mirror, on a chain,
Can you help us? Please explain!
We are lost and must be told
How to find the coins of gold.”
Tom waited, holding his breath. Slowly, silver letters began to emerge on the pendant’s polished surface. They spelled out another riddle:
In the land of warriors, great and old,
A pinch of salt is worth its weight in gold.
The Tiger’s claws will leave a scar;
What keeps you cool may take you far.
Act with honour to impress a lord;
Heroes not thieves will get their reward.
When all is dark make for the light
Beware the masked man who walks in the night.
The two of them stared at the letters in silence. Tom was the first to speak. “I don’t understand,” he said. “What’s salt got to do with anything?”
Zuma flapped her hand to shush him. “Be quiet! I can hear something,” she whispered.
Tom listened closely. Sure enough, there was a thunderous rumble in the distance. It sounded like it was getting closer.
“Oh no, not Tlaloc again,” he groaned.
“It’s not Tlaloc,” said Zuma. “Look – over there!”
Tom’s eyes followed Zuma’s pointing finger. She had spotted a tall teenage boy sprinting down a hill as if his life depended on it.
A few seconds later, Tom saw why.
The noise wasn’t thunder – it was the hooves of galloping horses. A group of horsemen charged over the hill. Their leader saw the running boy and pointed, screaming at the men behind. He urged his sweating horse to go faster. Looking over his shoulder, the boy yelled in fright. The horsemen were gaining on him. He put on a fresh spurt of speed, heading straight for Tom and Zuma.
As the horsemen drew nearer, Tom recognised their armour from an exhibit in his dad’s museum. It belonged to medieval Japanese warriors called samurai. Each warrior wore an iron breastplate, and skirts of overlapping leather protected their legs. Their helmets were decorated with what looked like alien antennae. Strapped to the samurai’s backs were curved swords called katana. In the safety of the museum, Tom had thought the katana looked really cool. Up close they looked like deadly weapons.
“They’re samurai warriors!” he called out to Zuma.
“They’re big bullies, that’s what they are!” she shouted back.
The boy was only a few metres from Tom and Zuma when he stumbled, twisting his ankle. He fell to the ground with a cry of pain.
Before Tom could blink, Zuma had run over to his side. “Can you get up?” she asked. “Here … lean on me.”
“Lean on me too,” added Tom, running over to join them. Whatever magic Tlaloc used to transport them across time also made it possible for Tom and Zuma to communicate with everyone they met.
“Don’t worry about me,” the boy panted, staggering to his feet. “Get out of here before they catch you as well!”
“Tom!” shouted Zuma.
When Tom looked up, his face went white with fear. A wave of samurai horsemen was crashing down on them!
Tom’s heart thumped like a drum. There was nowhere to hide. The tiny part of his brain that wasn’t terrified told him it was useless to run. There was no way to escape the galloping horses. The three of them, and Chilli, would be trampled beneath the flying hooves.
He closed his eyes. Then a voice shouted, “Halt!”
Tom opened his eyes, amazed he was still alive. The samurai had pulled up their horses at the last second, and were now fanning out round Tom, Zuma and the boy. Within seconds, they were surrounded.
The same voice that had given the command spoke again. “Who are you?” it said, in a sneering tone.
Tom looked up. The samurai leader was glaring down at him from the back of his snorting black stallion. Beneath all the heavy armour, Tom could see he was a young man – barely older than the boy he had been chasing. His face was proud, his eyes cruel and arrogant.
“We’re travellers,” Tom said quickly.
At his feet, Chilli growled. “Good doggie. Brave doggie,” whispered Zuma, trying to calm down her pet.
“Well, travellers, I am Goro, the son of an important nobleman. You may bow.”
Zuma snorted loudly. “I don’t think so,” she said. “I don’t bow to anyone.”
Goro’s eyes blazed with anger. “You try to help Oda, the salt thief, and then you refuse to bow?” he barked. “Do you wish to share his punishment?”
“Salt thief?” giggled Zuma. “He stole some salt? Is that all?”
“Be silent, girl!” Goro commanded.
Zuma ignored him. “What a mighty warrior you are,” she taunted. “Leading your men in a brave quest to capture a salt thief.”
Goro’s face had turned purple with rage. Tom elbowed Zuma. “Have you seen their swords?” he whispered. “Maybe you shouldn’t—”
“Enough!” screamed Goro. “Perhaps watching me thrash Oda until he is black and blue will silence you.” He held up a thick bamboo cane and the sunlight flashed on a silver ring he wore on his finger.
“Don’t you dare,” snapped Zuma. She stamped her foot. “I used to be a slave, so I know what it’s like to be unfairly punished. If you want to thrash him, you’ll have to get past me first.”
“And