CITY OF THE GODS: FORGOTTEN

by Verne, M. Scott

  His sturdy boots gave him traction that the dryads’ tiny feet lacked. D’Molay was able to stop himself before he ended up in the muddy waters of the river, but the dryads were not so lucky. Three of them cried out in terror to their sisters as the water began to sweep them downstream. D’Molay shouted out in anger as a dozen of the others put down their bows to affect a rescue.

  “What are you doing? You forget the beast!”

  Whether from the initial splashing and screaming of the unfortunate dryads or from D’Molay’s futile rebuke, the beast responded to the noise. Rising from the reeds, it towered over the dryads struggling to escape the current of the river. Arrows shot toward it from the hill, and D’Molay flinched as one nearly pierced his leg. Scrambling, he dislodged one soggy dryad who had grabbed his boot in her attempt to escape the water and floundered along the mucky bank to get out of the path of the arrows.

  Roaring, the beast took to the water, its many legs paddling it swiftly and surely across the deep central channel toward D’Molay’s side of the river. Rather than be driven in the desired direction by the archers, it had chosen to reverse and attack. D’Molay spun around to face the death that was heading straight for him, scrabbling for the knife that hung at his belt. The monster’s jaw gaped open as it drew near. It had found a tasty treat among its foes: a man.

  D’Molay’s heart was leaden in his chest. This was the end, and he had failed to find Aavi. That pain cut him more than the bite he anticipated from the teeth of the beast. It lunged, aiming to snap off the hand that had just pulled the ridiculously inadequate knife from its sheath. The beast’s snout hammered D’Molay and flipped him helplessly onto his back. The tracker was stunned and could do nothing but wait to die. The monster’s jaw darted in to disembowel. D’Molay sucked in his gut as he took what he we sure was his last breath.

  There came a sudden rush of wind and a deafening clap of thunder. The tongue that was raking up his thigh suddenly drew back as Zephyrus stung it with a shot of electricity from his ring. The creature’s head whipped up, snapping at the Wind, as Eros darted in and grabbed D’Molay, flying him many yards away. When Eros set him down, D’Molay staggered sideways, leaving safe solid ground and sinking knee deep in sucking mud as his right foot chose a very bad place to step. D’Molay threw his hands out to stop his plunge, but the precaution proved to be unnecessary as Eros grabbed him by the collar and hauled him back.

  “Not the time for swimming, Tracker,” he said as he lifted him easily from the river muck. “You don’t have the strength for it.”

  D’Molay gasped out his thanks while peering with great concern at the unfolding confrontation. The beast had moved away from the river after the foolish dryads had pursued it down the hill rather than holding the high ground and firing at range. Zephyrus rejoined them, wincing as the sound of dryad bodies cracking under the feet and jaws of the beast cut through the air.

  “What do you think, Eros? Should we join in?”

  Eros’s eyes had darkened, and his body was taut. The primal fury of the beast and the soul-wrenching cries of the falling dryads were feeding his godhood. Lusts of all kinds fueled Eros’s power, and like it or not, the battle was drawing him in. Eros inwardly cursed his grandfather. Zeus was crafty. He knew that Eros was a powerful weapon when engaged, and the simple placement of him in the battle might tip the odds in favor of the Greek side. In answer to Zeph’s question, Eros uttered a piercing cry and sped down the hill, past several fleeing dryads to the ground where Ares’ soldiers had finally ringed the monster. The Wind hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should stay and guard D’Molay.

  “Help them,” D’Molay urged as Zephyrus hesitated. “Go!”

  Zephyrus grinned. “Can I borrow your knife?”

  A strong gust of air sucked the weapon from D’Molay’s hand into the Wind’s. Then Zephyrus chased after Eros like a younger brother left behind. His human guise was betrayed as his feet bounced lightly across the water to carry him to battle. Once across the river, he assumed the form of air and D’Molay lost track of him.

  Now D’Molay could only watch as the beast faced off with the soldiers and the two gods. The monster found Ares’ men more formidable than the easily panicked dryads. While creatures were not their usual opponents, the soldiers trusted that any kind of flesh would give way to their sharp blades. As they ringed the beast, they slashed at its many legs. Spurts of amber blood sprang from the cuts but quickly clotted to an oozing sap. The beast charged three men directly before it, crushing one in its jaws before Eros swooped in quickly to distract it. It snapped its jaws upwards, giving the cornered men an opening for flight. Eros deftly evaded, hovering just out of reach to keep the beast’s attention as the soldiers regrouped.

  “Watch me go for a ride,” Zephyrus announced as he arrived in the air next to Eros. He made the boast in his storm form, but to Eros’ horror he changed to human guise as he dropped astride the creature. “How do you like the wind at your back?” Zephyrus exclaimed, D’Molay’s knife poised for a strike.

  Zephyrus drove the knife into the back of the thing’s neck. The beast responded with a deafening roar and began to buck. Zephyrus felt himself start to slip. He held tightly to the knife imbedded in the rough, hairy hide as the beast tried to shake him off.

  “Zephyrus!” Eros shouted. “What are you doing? Change and get away!”

  The beast reared. Zephyrus lost his grip and fell bouncing off the flank of the creature. Several legs kicked him soundly aside and he came to rest unmoving atop a patch of sedge. Eros gave the creature a wide berth and hauled Zephyrus to safety as the soldiers, determined to complete their mission, prepared to charge again.

  “Nets, ready!” the commander shouted. The sailors, who had been huddled in a clump out of range of injury, split into two groups that ran in opposite directions to stretch their mesh trap the length of the beast. Then all the soldiers raced the foe from one side to drive it straight into the net. The cost was great. Over half the Aresians fell in the attempt, including the bellowing commander. But two of the swordsmen managed to find sensitive spots on the beast’s underbelly that it scrambled blindly to protect. The net men seized their opportunity and with a coordinated heave enveloped the creature in Poseidon’s unbreakable skein.

  D’Molay was skeptical that a mere net could hold the beast. But as the creature thrashed and rolled, the net seemed to contract more tightly. Clearly it was of godly origin, designed to exhaust its catch. Considering its oceanic source, it was probably designed to hold fast the great leviathans of the deep, making it more than sufficient to control a land animal, monstrous or not. Soon the beast had no strength left to struggle. It lay still, breathing heavily. D’Molay waited for the killing blow which oddly did not come. Instead, barked commands by a man who had stepped in to take the fallen commander’s place sent a solder on a run toward Ares’ Fort.

  Why he did this, D’Molay did not care. He was so weak and ill he wanted to close his eyes and die, even if dying meant that he would never know where strange things like the beast and beautiful things like Aavi had come from. They were like two different coins thrown together into a fountain, the hand of their owner forever unknown.

  At the very instant this thought crossed his mind, D’Molay felt like a refreshing bucket of cold water had washed his burning agony away. Blinking dumbly, a happy grin on his face, he sat up. The curse was leaving him, and there was only one possible reason why.

  “They came here together,” he shouted, jumping to his feet. From another hillside, Eros looked up at him briefly before resuming his efforts to rouse Zephyrus. As far as he was concerned, his duty to the strange human was finished, but that did not stop the man from blabbering on as he ran over to the gods. “The beast is a clue toward finding Aavi,” D’Molay continued exuberantly. “The curse won’t hurt me as long as I’m on the right quest.” Eros, lost as to what the man was saying, muttered something vaguely supportive as he lifted Zeph’s eyelid and peered at his eyeballs, cu
rrently rolled back up into his head. That damn Chinese bird apparently had known what it was talking about.

  “I have to find out more!” D’Molay said as he turned away from the disinterested god. He quickly moved to join the soldiers. They had captured the creature alive, and D’Molay was determined to keep it that way until he learned all he could from it.

  “Zeus will be pleased,” said the soldier who had taken command as D’Molay approached. “He will reward all of us after we see this creature to its pen.”

  “I’m with you to the end,” D’Molay pledged, his voice regaining its light, bantering tone. He would ride this adventure out, observing all and turning any favor Zeus might bestow toward fulfilling his two quests. He hoped that Mazu was experiencing as much fortune in her efforts, and that Aavi, for the time being, was somewhere safe. “Where will you take it?”

  “To our god, Ares. He has prepared a prison for it,” the man said as their conversation was suddenly interrupted by some raucous singing. “Come, Tracker. Those netters have found something to drink.”

  The Greek and D’Molay walked over to the sailors. They were enjoying a crate of ale that had floated up to the river’s edge courtesy of an unseen but satisfied Poseidon. The shanty they’d begun to sing blended with the rattling dirge of the mourning dryads who were somberly gathering their shattered dead, piling their woody bodies and lighting a funeral pyre. However, neither sound was loud enough to drown out the labored breathing and intermittent moans of the wounded beast. D’Molay focused on the captive monster, seeking any clues that might link it to Aavi.

  “I’ve never seen the like of it before,” the Greek commented as he confiscated a jug of ale to share with D’Molay. He held out his beefy, calloused hand. “I’m Kastor.” D’Molay grasped his forearm strongly and Kastor grinned at him, white teeth jumping out brightly from his dirty face. “You have a firm grip. I thought you were sickly.”

  “Somehow I feel better now that the battle is over.”

  “As do I,” Kastor laughed heartily. “By Hera’s tits, what is that thing? I’ve seen some monsters in my day, but . . .” The man trailed off, lacking words to express his amazement. Then he shrugged. “No matter. We caught it. What happens to it now is up to the gods.”

  D’Molay hummed in companionable agreement. “Still, I wonder where it came from. I wonder if it can speak?” he inquired lightly. His mind was racing. What did the Greeks and their gods know that could help him find Aavi?

  Kastor chuckled. “If it could, what it would say to us right now would scald your ears. I made the mistake of conversing with a wounded harpy once. Its tongue was sharper than my spatha.” Kastor pulled the blade from his scabbard and began to hone it as he sat down by D’Molay. “That’s why I tell my children never to talk to monsters.”

  “Children?” D’Molay was a bit surprised to hear that the soldier had a family. “Boys or girls?” he added quickly, to prevent the amiable Kastor from being offended by any of his assumptions.

  “Four boys, only one girl. The wife has been good in that respect. How about you? How many sons have you fathered?”

  “Not a one,” D’Molay admitted. He was about to explain that a tracker’s work made a home life impractical when the sound of marching feet and rolling wheels intruded upon the camp.

  “Herikos is back,” Kastor announced, rising. The other soldier rolled toward them, driving a large team of yoked oxen pulling a sturdy flatbed cart. Twenty more of Ares’ men jogged alongside, fresh and ready for the task of hauling the catch onto its transport. Kastor joined his strength to theirs as they took hold of the net around the beast and began to drag it aboard. D’Molay was not asked to help, and personally had no intention of volunteering for the dirty, hard work. The monster grunted and mewled to itself as it suffered the indignity and pain of being loaded. After it was finally upon the flatbed and secured to it with sturdy chains, Kastor climbed up to join Herikos on the driver’s bench.

  “Tracker, come ride with us,” he offered. D’Molay declined.

  “And sit with my back to that thing? I think not,” he said. The Greeks joked at his fear, especially the new arrivals that had not seen the monster in action. Unmoved by their mockery, D’Molay simply put one foot in front of the other and set off down the road to the fort. If it got loose, he might live long enough to have the last laugh. He walked at a brisk pace, enjoying the return of his strength and vigor and treasuring the new hope that he was on the right path to find Aavi.

  Chapter 18 - The Grand Pyramid of Egyptos

  Aavi watched the auction house recede into the distance, happy to finally be away from that terrible place. She could easily see out the open carriage windows all that was behind them as they rolled along. Aavi loved the feel of the breeze as it blew her hair around her face. It was as if all her troubles were being blown away and left behind. She sighed with relief and tried to relax for a moment. It had been a very intense day so far, and she hoped from here on it would be a little less hectic. The padded red velvet bench seat was the most comfortable thing she’d rested on since she had been in the City. So much had happened since she had opened her eyes for the first time. It seemed like a year had passed, though it had only been days. If it wasn’t for her excitement over being rescued, Aavi would likely have curled up and fallen into a deep restful sleep.

  Kafele rested in the padded seat opposite Aavi, so he was able to see out the side windows where they were going. Every so often, he stuck his head out of the window and furtively looked back the way they had come. “Just making sure no one is following us,” he confided as Aavi shot him a questioning look. After they rounded a corner and the auction house was far out of sight, Kafele seemed to relax. “I believe we are safely away now, thank the gods.” He almost looked out the back of the carriage window again, but managed to stop himself.

  Aavi looked at him with great admiration and humility. “It must have cost a lot of coins to buy me from the High Sulgi. I’m sorry I caused so much trouble.” She looked down at her feet feeling guilty, then leaned forward a little and put her hand gently on his knee.

  Aavi was a beautiful sight to behold, but Kafele took care to keep his face an unreadable mask. “Yes, well, you have the honor of being one of the most expensive slaves Namtar has sold. In truth, I had to get help to buy you, but that doesn’t matter right now. You seem unharmed, do you need anything?” he finished, automatically resuming his role as a healer.

  There was a pause as Aavi seemed to consider, “I have a strange feeling right here, but it doesn’t hurt.” Aavi rubbed her belly.

  Kafele smiled a little from the side of his mouth as he held his hand under his chin. “Hmmm. My diagnosis is hunger. When was the last time you ate anything?

  Aavi looked up at the roof of the carriage as she tried to remember. “I ate some fruits this morning before the auction.”

  Kafele took Aavi’s hand in his and looked at her the way an exasperated parent might look at a child who forgot to do a chore. “It’s past mid-day. You need something else to eat and drink. When we get home, I’ll be sure you get something.” He let go of her hand and leaned back into the plush padded bench, putting his head back and closing his eyes for a moment.

  But Aavi was still too excited about her rescue to rest quite yet. “Oh Kafele, I’m so glad you found me and freed me. I was so happy to see you! Where are we going? Your healing place? How is D’Molay? Have you seen him? The Oracle told me I had to see him again.” She was like a spring, ready to bounce and dance and talk for hours on end.

  Kafele’s forehead furrowed as he squinted his eyes more tightly shut in mild annoyance at her chatter. He hoped she would be quiet if he gave her the information she desired. With his head back and eyes still closed, he answered what he chose. “We are going to the Egyptos sector. That’s where I live. I haven’t seen D’Molay since the moment you two walked out of my apothecary. Nothing really exciting has happened to me in the last two days, but I’m sure you must have much to
tell.”

  Kafele was familiar with what went on in slave pens, and would find that retelling of the girl’s experience mundane. But he realized there was a part of Aavi’s story that did pique his curiosity. He opened his eyes and leaned toward Aavi.

  “What did the Oracle tell you? And how did you get from being a guest of the Oracle to being slave girl of the High Sulgi? Tell me everything, Aavi.”

  Aavi looked up at the roof of the carriage, gathered her thoughts, and began to tell him all. She had covered her trip with Mazu, the strange words of the Oracle, and being grabbed by the bat. As she launched into a description of Es-huh, Kafele interrupted. He had no interest in random slave girls.

  “My, you have been busy the last few days, Aavi. So the Oracle appeared to look just like you as a reflection. Interesting.”

  “Doesn’t the Oracle always look like a person’s reflection?” Aavi asked.

  Kafele wagged his finger. “No, no. It’s different for everyone who goes there, from what I’ve heard. Usually, the Oracle takes the form of one’s own god, a force of nature, or the person that you admire the most. With your memories all missing, perhaps the only thing the Oracle had to work with was you, yourself. You have no gods or loved ones it could use, I suspect.”

  Aavi looked back at him with amazing eyes that seemed to be filled with mystery and a depth that made them hard not to be lost in. “That makes sense, Kafele.”

  For a moment he was captive to her gaze. It was like being pulled into a warm dark pool that penetrated every part of his mind. Finally he was able to tear his eyes from her and look out the carriage window. He carefully controlled his voice so that she would not sense he was unnerved. “What do you suppose that advice from the Oracle meant?”