She moved up and up. The trees thinned out and Aavi had to carefully climb around a rocky outcrop. The boulders were hard and cold like the streets of the City. Once past them, only short bushes remained to slow her way. Their stiff branches snagged her clothing and snapped at her when they broke as she pulled free.
“Be quiet.” she chided the plants. She wanted nothing to interrupt her vigil over the white light in the sky. There was something about its brightness that mesmerized her. Off in the distance, she heard a flapping sound and her shoulders instinctively hunched up as she yearned to fly up closer to the light. Barely a moment after this wish, something struck her hard in the back.
Aavi fell forward into the snapping bushes as a heavy weight pressed her down. Terrified, she struggled as strong fingers dug into the fabric of her robe and wormed under her armpits. She wrenched her head to one side and saw a huge leathery wing extending over her. A terrible sour smell wrinkled her nose as a hot breath spewed out guttural words.
“Caught by moon . . . pretty little bug,” the winged being said. Then Aavi felt her body yanked into the air as the creature labored to lift them both. She frantically kicked her legs, trying to get the thing to let her down, but it growled and its chin slammed into Aavi’s head. Her body suddenly went limp and the world below her receded into darkness.
Chapter 6 - Delivery for a Cat Goddess
Once he left Aavi, D’Molay rode back into the City of the Gods. It was mid-day and the streets were getting busier, with various minor gods, religious dignitaries, food vendors, slaves, and tradesmen making their way to work sites and temples. As he rode back along the tree-lined street, D’Molay gazed out at the great lake and recalled his upcoming task. He was supposed to pick up a package at the red cart curry vendor, near the Hindu temple’s main courtyard. That was off to the east. He’d need to go down Kali’s lane.
Traveling down some narrower, more winding streets lined with older buildings, he entered the Hindu district. Many parts of the City had great embassies or temple plazas devoted to the various pantheons of the gods. This district was one of the larger ones for there were many gods in its realm. The Egyptian section was probably next in size, with the Greco-Roman district a close third. After driving through the shaded streets of temples and monasteries, D’Molay brought his cart into a sunny open courtyard. He saw the large red food cart across the courtyard along with about seven others set up in a semi-circle. The aroma of food stirred his stomach, which insistently reminded him he’d not eaten yet that day. He hopped out of the cart, tethered the horse to a nearby tree, and walked across the flagstone courtyard, passing the fountain in the center to reach the curry vendor. Weighing his meal choices from many tempting options, D’Molay untied his leather money bag from his belt.
The vendor he approached had a large covered horse-drawn cart that was styled like something from the old India on Earth. It was crimson, with Hindu gods of pleasure and happiness painted on the sides. The large yellow script on the top of the cart undoubtedly announced the name of the business or the type of food sold, but D’Molay could not read it. Most of the patrons probably couldn’t either, but the aromatic, spicy smell of the food cooking was far more effective advertising than any words.
A small woman dressed in a red sari stood at a large round opening in the center of the cart where orders were placed. She smiled politely at D’Molay. “Can I help you today, sir?”
“Yes, hello. A friend told me your curry came with ‘special ingredients,’ so I’ll have a bowl,” D’Molay said casually as he opened his money pouch. He hoped this was the right cart and the right girl, and that his subtle request for the package would be understood.
The woman looked back at him with large dark eyes and nodded slightly. She smiled slyly as she said, “That will be a half silver, sir,” and held out her hand. He paid her and she disappeared into the back of the cart. A moment later she returned with a wooden bowl, a spoon and a small box. The box was of an ornately carved dark wood about two inches in diameter. “Here you are. I included some extra spices for you.” She smiled at him again, then turned away to get an order from the next customer.
D’Molay picked up the items in one fluid movement and returned to his cart. As he leaned back and ate from the bowl, he surveyed the courtyard, alert for anyone who might have been watching the food cart, or watching him. He noted nothing unusual and relaxed until a girl with a round face and short black hair approached him. She was wearing a simple dark green tunic and matching pants. D’Molay continued to eat, although mentally he was prepared to fight in case she had an attack in mind. She might be a rival engaged to steal the package he had just obtained. Then he realized she had an entirely different task as he watched her bend down and pick up a discarded wooden bowl that belonged to one of the courtyard vendors.
D’Molay had to chuckle at his own paranoia. But the innocent outcome did not entirely disperse the slight feeling of apprehension that dogged him. Over the many years he had lived in the City of the Gods, D’Molay had gained an intuition about coming danger. Unfortunately, it was never more than a vague awareness, so other than keeping him alert it wasn’t much help. He quickly finished his bowl of curry and then handed it to the young woman when she got close. It was time to move on.
Shortly after he rode out of district, D’Molay began to suspect that he was indeed being followed. For a moment he thought he saw a dark figure moving from doorway to doorway following in the shadows. His instincts had served him well in his long life, and he’d learned to rely on those inner feelings rather than dismissing them as his imagination. Turning a corner, he paused long enough to hide the box he’d been given under a gap below the bench seat. If anyone stopped him, they’d have some searching to do. He urged the horse forward.
D’Molay entered the center of the City, where the great library and massive Council buildings stood. Monuments to fallen gods, beautiful fountains of living water, and open plazas were thronged with inhabitants come to worship, do business, or see the sites. Trying not to be distracted by the grandeur, D’Molay checked discreetly behind him to see if he could spot his pursuer again. He was unsuccessful.
He tried to make the horse go faster, but the crowds of people made it difficult to achieve more than a slight increase in pace. All he had to do was get to the Egyptian Temple complex without being intercepted. He risked another glance back, but it was not until he returned his eyes to the way ahead that he saw what he instantly recognized as his pursuer. Somehow it had gotten in front of him and was standing by a huge column devoted to Zeus. The man-shaped creature stood motionless, watching as the cart approached.
A dark green hooded cloak concealed some of its features from the curious. However, D’Molay could see dark grey skin with a hint of green that looked wet and glistened when the light hit it the right way. The creature’s arms had no bones and seemed to be just massive flexible muscles. Its bulbous head was larger than a normal man’s. Three orange eyes empty of pupils were stacked in a triangle shape, two where one might expect them to be and one located in the center of its forehead. The cloak covered it to the ground, but its movements seemed more like scuttling than running as it suddenly approached.
It had chosen the perfect spot to intercept the cart. There was no avoiding passing his pursuer short of stopping and trying to back up in the middle of the street. D’Molay whipped his horse, gambling that he might be able to rush by what lay in wait before it had a chance to act. But it was ready and charged forward, jumping like a spider into the back of the cart as it sped by.
D’Molay unsheathed his knife, ready to use it. He swung his arm back to slice at the creature, but he missed, slicing only empty air. He was immediately grabbed from behind and slammed onto the back of the cart. As he was pulled over onto his back the reins went with him, jerking the horse to a stop in the street. The knife fell from his hand and dropped into the front of the cart. The creature loomed over him as it stood on his shoulders, holding him down. It
extended its tendrils.
“Giiiive meee boxxx.”
“What box?”
The creature flew into a rage, hitting D’Molay across the face as it screamed. It was like being hit with a heavy knotted rope. The beating moved to his arms and torso, giving him bruises that would last for weeks. “Get boxxxx now!”
“Alright, alright! I-I’ll get it!” D’Molay’s brain raced, trying to concoct a way to escape with the box if the creature allowed him an opening to retrieve it. He extended an aching arm toward the front of the cart as if he were actually reaching for the item.
Suddenly the entire cart was engulfed in a blue energy blast. It tipped violently to the left and shifted about eight feet to that side. Both D’Molay and the creature were sent sprawling to the pavement as the horse neighed loudly and staggered, tangled in its tack.
“Idiots! Get out of the way next time you play in the street!” A young boy-god in a golden horse-drawn carriage yelled at them, his head protruding from a side window. His finger was still crackling with blue energy as his driver barreled on past. Several other carts and chariots quickly went by as the way had now been opened. Ignoring the ruckus, D’Molay scrambled for his knife which he spotted lying in the street only a few feet away. He grabbed it and jumped on the creature, which had fallen on its back. Its tentacles flailed like the legs of an upended bug.
“Who sent you?” D’Molay demanded, holding the knife at the creature’s throat as he knelt on one of its tentacles and pinned the other with his arm. “Answer!”
After a few seconds pause it finally replied. “S-Sssssetttt.”
D’Molay pondered this for a second. It made sense. Set was Egyptian, as was the rightful owner of the box D’Molay guarded. Perhaps Set wanted the item, though it was equally possible that this creature wanted the box for his own reasons.
“Set hired you, did he? Why you?”
“Alwaysss sssuccesss. I aasssssk no questionsssss.”
“I guess you were hired just like I was,” D’Molay said begrudgingly. On some level he felt empathy for his attacker, despite or perhaps even because of its inhuman appearance. “I should kill you, but what happens if I don’t? Will you go back to whatever hole you crawled out of and leave me be?” D’Molay pressed the knife at the creatures’ throat as it stared at him with those soulless orange eyes.
“Leave . . . I leave . . . Yesssss,” it answered.
“Very well. I wasn’t planning to kill anyone today.” Withdrawing the knife from the creature, D’Molay stepped back, still wary of what it might do.
Slowly the grey man-thing rose, then backed away, preparing to move off. It turned as if to go, then suddenly swung one of its massive tentacles right at D’Molay’s head. It connected solidly, flinging D’Molay backward. He hit hard against the horse cart, falling to the ground. With the knife he had managed to hold on to as the creature had struck, D’Molay sliced off the end of a tendril. Black liquid gushed out of the wound. Unfazed, the misshapen creature rushed him. D’Molay tasted blood in his mouth as tentacles wrapped around his neck and lifted him off the ground. His arms dangled uselessly at his sides. His knife was still in his hand, but he was unable to use it. Held by his neck, his feet hanging inches off the ground, D’Molay stared in panic at the hideous grin on the creature’s face.
“Foolisssh. Now I crush neck . . . take box.”
D’Molay struggled to no avail as his face turned crimson and the creature tightened its grip. Desperately he gasped for air, but none came. His vision started to go black around the edges as though he was looking through a shrinking tunnel. As he began to lose consciousness, he managed a last attempt to break free, swinging his feet forward and getting a sideways foothold on the creature’s chest. D’Molay then brought his other leg up and sent a crushing kick into the creature’s face with his booted heel. The kick took it completely by surprise and destroyed one of its eyes, the orange orb turning into black jelly under his boot. Screaming in pain and shock, the creature released its hold on D’Molay and he dropped into the back of the cart, gasping for breath. The thing staggered backwards as it held its tentacle over the leaking wound that had once been an eye.
D’Molay gasped for air as he lay in the cart. He could hear the creature’s continued screams and the slapping of its flailing tentacles. He knew his escape was only temporary. D’Molay managed to rise, taking a flying leap off the cart right at the creature. Holding the knife in both hands, D’Molay thrust it down into its head. It broke through his enemy’s skull like an arrow going into a watermelon. He set the knife in deeply and fell off the creature as it writhed. It staggered forward and almost ran into some onlookers as blood gushed out around the protruding knife. Within a few seconds, it was covered in the black liquid. It fell to the ground, gurgling, its tentacles still searching for its victim’s neck.
D’Molay lay on the ground trying to catch his breath, exhausted. He was bruised, cut, and his neck hurt like hell, but he would recover. A small crowd had gathered, muttering to each other as they pointed at the carnage. One of them, a priest of Artemis, stood over him. “Don’t move. I’ve summoned a guardian.”
“I won’t,” D’Molay managed to get out between gasps of air. He barely looked at the priest as he tried to recover from the fight. Slowly he caught his breath and was able to sit up, gathering his strength. “That’s the last time I show an opponent mercy. Next time, I’ll just kill them. Mercy almost cost me my life,” he angrily muttered, staring at a smear of his own blood on the street.
Within minutes, a white, winged horse with a rider descended from the sky. As they sought a spot to land on the street pedestrians scattered out of the way. “Move aside, City business!” a strong, feminine voice called out. D’Molay felt the air rush past him from the beating of the horse’s wings. Looking up, he saw its rider was a Valkyrie carrying a long golden spear. The horse landed gently on the ground, taking a few steps before coming to a halt. The horse folded its large, white wings. The rider gracefully slid off her mount and stood for a moment, surveying the scene in front of her
D’Molay couldn’t help but turn his gaze to her. She was a combination of beauty and strength, tall and full figured, with white-blonde hair flowing behind her like a flaxen banner down to her waist. On her head was a silver helmet with white dove wings on either side. She wore silvery metal armor. Over her shoulders and across her chest rested a dark blue leather collar. She carried a shield with the City Council symbol on it, much like symbol on the medallion D’Molay carried. Around her waist was a matching belt and skirt that hung about mid-thigh. Her boots laced up on the sides and went up to the top of her calves. As she walked toward him, she pointed her golden spear, an item carried by all the guardians, at him. D’Molay wiped the blood dripping from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, hoping he could talk his way out of this. City guardians had considerable discretionary power. One could never be sure if a guardian would truly mete out justice. Some were just as likely to abuse their power for their own amusement.
“What’s this all about? Answer or face the justice of the Council,” the Valkyrie said as she placed her shield on the ground and held her spear with both hands. She had angular features and thin lips which gave her the appearance of an elf that had been in the cold for too long. D’Molay quickly judged she was not someone to be joked or flirted with, so he wasted no time in giving her an answer.
“That creature attacked me first, while I was riding in that cart. I defended myself and I had to kill it.” D’Molay noticed the horse still waiting for him. “I also work for the Council as a courier and a tracker. I have a Council medallion if you want to see it,” he added.
The Valkyrie stepped closer, taking a defensive stance and aiming her spear right at his heart. It was so close that if she just gave a thrust forward her spear would pierce him with ease. “Show me. But I wouldn’t pull anything else out of that pocket.”
D’Molay reached in his coat pocket and pulled out the emblem the
Council had given him years ago. He always carried the medallion for it often helped him in situations like this one. He held it up for her to see. “I was delivering a small box to one of the Egyptian pantheon, when that thing lying there attacked.”
She looked at the emblem without touching it. “You can put it away, but stay where you are until I say otherwise.” Then she turned to the small crowd standing nearby. “Who attacked first? If you saw anything, speak now,” she said with an air of authority.
A bald man a white toga stepped forward. D’Molay recognized him as the one who had told him to not to move earlier. “I didn’t see who attacked first, but I can tell you that the so-called creature could speak, and said it would leave him be. The next thing I saw, that one had shoved a knife through its head,” the man said in an accusatory manner.
The Valkyrie’s expression turned grim as another man stepped forward. “But that creature attacked first - I saw it jump inna the back ‘o his wagon. When he offered to let it go, it lashed out a’ him. I swear it, and don’ know him or that beast.”
“That is what happened,” D’Molay added in earnest support of his testimony.
The guardian eyed the rest of the crowd. “Did it attack him after he let it go?” Some shook their heads, some spoke their agreement, and many said nothing; but, she was used to bystanders that didn’t want to get involved. Finally, she withdrew the spear and rested it upright on the stone-paved street. She looked directly at D’Molay. “Get up. I’m satisfied with your story.”
“You made the right choice. Sorry to cause you any trouble,” he replied, standing up and brushing himself off. “Do you have a name?”
“My name is Geirronul. Trouble is my duty,” she said, walking over to the corpse of the half-man, half monster. Crouching down, she looked closely at the dead creature. That annoyed sneer crossed her face again. “Looks like one of Lamasthu’s servants. Strange. Rarely see them in the City.” She took hold of the large knife sticking out of its bulbous head. “I take it this is yours?” she asked rhetorically, pulling it out of the wound. More dark blood gurgled out of the hole in its head. “Nice dagger. It suppresses magical energy, doesn’t it? Here.” She held the bloody knife hilt out to D’Molay.
CITY OF THE GODS: FORGOTTEN Page 6
