Aavi lay motionless on the floor, but unlike Set, she had not been turned into a statue. She was merely unconscious, arms and legs at odd angles, looking like a puppet whose strings had suddenly been cut in the middle of a performance. As she stirred, the shattered shackles that had once held her to the torture slab dangled brokenly from her wrists. Seeing Set, an unmoving figure standing with his back to her, she cringed, thinking he would suddenly turn around and strike her again.
After a few terrifying moments, she remembered the flash of light. Someone must have made him stop; someone had saved her. Aavi shook the weight of broken shackles from her wrists and cried out in joy. Her fingers were whole and healed. Tears ran down her cheeks as the pain and the horror of Set breaking them one by one spun around in her mind. She could breathe easier now too, and the blood that had filled her mouth and throat was gone. It was like waking from a bad nightmare, but like the fickle flow of a dream, she thought she saw Set move a little. Aavi held her breath in fearful anticipation, but he remained still.
As the feeling of panic faded, she checked the rest of her body. All the wounds she had suffered were gone. Aavi tried to sit up, but despite being mysteriously healed, she felt exhausted and heavy. She managed to prop herself against the wall of her cell, nervously watching Set for fear he might reanimate to torture her again. But even if he didn’t, she needed to get out of here before one of his guards discovered her. What would they do if they found her here with Set immobilized? Fear of those consequences was enough to get Aavi moving. Crawling along the floor, she reached up to the door handle. She fumbled with the latch for a moment with awkward fingers that still shook from all that had been done to her. Finally the latch clicked and the door swung slowly open into the corridor. Leaning against it, she fell forward as the door moved, her hands striking the floor.
Aavi looked up and down the hallway, but there was no movement. It appeared deserted. The desperate need to get away from Set was the one thought that kept echoing in her mind as she started to crawl down the smooth polished granite hall.
She had met many people and deities since she had arrived in the City of the Gods. Some had been kind, many were uncaring, and others had been mean; but none of them had possessed the evil she had found in Set. The High Sulgi had been cruel and threatening to her, but his darkness came and went. The bat creature had grabbed her from behind and dragged her off. Guards had been rough with her and pushed her around, but they paled by comparison. The god from the north, who had put his hands on her in strange and unpleasant ways, wasn’t dark, really, but some other color she didn’t fully comprehend. But Set’s inner glow, his colors, they were so very, very dark. His heart was only evil and malevolent. There was nothing else in him.
Aavi realized now exactly what she was seeing when she looked at someone. She was peering into the soul and seeing the feelings hidden within. Aavi felt as if she had made some kind of breakthrough, something that gave her a clue as to who or what she might be, but the pieces hadn’t come together yet. Freedom was still her foremost need. She crawled on.
Behind her, in the cell she had just left, a slight cracking sound broke the silence.
Chapter 25 - Set’s Prison
D‘Molay crawled into the gap in the wall of the prison building. There was not much space in the hole, just enough for him to slide himself along. The passage fed into a small dark chamber, a bathroom judging from the smell. He held his breath and hoped no one would be using it when he dropped in.
His progress was blocked by a free-standing wrought iron grate. Peeking through it, he saw that the room beyond it was unoccupied. Moving the grate aside, D’Molay slid himself in the rest of the way and landed quietly on a stone ledge. His foot almost fell through a toilet hole that was in the center of the ledge, but he caught his balance just in time.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness and his nose wrinkled at the stench, D’Molay took stock of the room. It was cramped, lit only by light leaking around gaps in a door frame. He stepped off the ledge and moved to listen at the door. Hearing nothing, he slowly opened it a crack. The corridor beyond was empty, giving him a moment to consider his options. Ignorant of the prison’s layout, finding Aavi was going to require considerable exploration. He stepped out of the bathroom and walked along the corridor as if he belonged here. As he went along, he tested the handle latch of each door he passed to see if it would open.
The first four doors he passed were locked, but at the fifth, the latch responded with a soft click. D’Molay opened the door a crack and peered in. There was no reaction to his intrusion, so he pushed the door all the way open and stepped inside. Against the back wall of this chamber were four tiered shelves. Lining one side wall were wooden crates and an assortment of items: clay pots, wooden staffs, small figurines of Egyptian gods and other, mostly broken, odds and ends. The other side of the room looked more promising for looting. A quick search of racks and crates rewarded him with enough pieces of a worn out Egyptian uniform to disguise himself as a guard. D’Molay traded his clothes for an Egyptian-styled leather chest plate with turquoise colored shoulder pads, a white linen kilt, and a wide dark leather belt with hieroglyphs etched into it. Most of the gear was tattered or damaged, but his leather working skills came in handy and he was able to jury rig them well enough. At a distance, no one would really notice the deficiencies. He even located a scimitar to carry, though the blade was gouged in several places and the hilt was mostly unraveled.
Unfortunately, he did not find the sandals that the guards usually wore, and his hair and complexion were nowhere close to the standard style. Most of Set’s guards had deeply tanned skin and pageboy haircuts formed their black locks. D’Molay pulled his dark brown hair into a pony tail, a style he had seen on a few of the guards, to blend in a little better. He hoped his efforts would be enough to avoid detection. He chastised himself for not thinking of a better strategy in advance, the rush of time and the distraction of Tenh-Mer’s charms had made it almost impossible to think. D’Molay hid his clothes in an empty crate, taking only his treasured knife, Council seal and bag of coins with him, slid into the belt he now wore. As a last thought, he grabbed a parchment scroll to carry with him so he could pretend to be checking the cells for some official reason.
He slipped out and proceeded down the hallway, once again in search of Aavi. As he explored Set’s prison and checked each door he passed by, it was evident that something was distracting all the guards. Several ran past D’Molay as he walked down the corridor, paying him no attention. D’Molay kept a stern, grim expression on his face and pretended to be reading the scroll he was carrying as he wondered where they were rushing. He hoped the reason for their hurry was not the discovery of the guard who had fallen to his death.
As he wandered the halls, D’Molay paused at each cell and checked through the small barred opening for Aavi. If the room was too dark to see into, he would softly call out her name. As he stood at each door, he held out the parchment he had taken to make it look like he was checking the cells occupants in some way. When he actually took a look at the hieroglyphics on the papyrus, D’Molay was unable to read any of them. For all he knew, the scroll might be a list of local brothels. He rolled it back up to prevent its unknown contents from alerting someone who could read Egyptian to his trick.
As he tried another locked cell, he considered where he might look to find keys. His speculation was interrupted as a weak voice called out to him. It was too dark to see if anyone was within. “Aavi?”
“Help me, please,” came a weak reply from the cell.
“Aavi! Are you all right?” D’Molay tried to keep his voice down for fear of bringing other guards to him. Every sense strained to peer into the darkness for some sign of Aavi. There was no further reply and he wondered if he had imagined the voice from the darkness. Then he saw something move in the darkness and perhaps a streak of long blonde hair. A face appeared at the door.
It was an old man, with long white matted hair t
hat ran down either side of his balding head. He clutched the small barred opening of the prison door. “I thought you’d never come for me. I’m ready to go now.”
Startled and disappointed almost beyond words, D’Molay’s excited expression fell into flat despair. “Sorry old man, I’m just checking cells to see which are unoccupied.”
“Let me out, please.” White, leprous hands reached out past the bars.
“Go back to sleep, I’ll let you out tomorrow,” D’Molay said flatly, dodging their touch. He turned and walked on, resigned that there was nothing he could do. He could not rescue everyone. It would be difficult enough for Tenh-Mer to fly him and Aavi out, assuming he could find her.
“Tomorrow? Oh, thank you sir, thank you!” The old man’s hands withdrew from the door opening, but by then D’Molay had moved on.
Over his long life, D’Molay had been both prisoner and guard. He understood what it was like to be a helpless man in a cell, desperate for any morsel or hint of a way out. At the same time, he knew the responsibility of keeping prisoners in line and the distance required not to sympathize with their plights. Yet here he was, breaking into a prison to free someone he barely knew.
Suddenly a voice came from down the hallway. “Over here, we need a hand.” D’Molay turned and saw that a guard had come around the corner. He froze for a second then recovered.
“What is it? I’m checking the cells.” He hoped he sounded convincing.
“Never mind that, we must attend to Set!” the man called back.
“Of course! What has happened?” D’Molay answered as he rushed over.
“Set was also affected by the blast. He has been encased in stone!” the guard revealed as D’Molay followed him down a different corridor. Then he remembered the bright flash that had illuminated the prison as Tenh-Mer had carried him. They rushed along, approaching what at first looked like two statues, standing in the middle of the hallway. Then D’Molay realized that they weren’t posed like statues at all. One was so off balance that it had fallen against the wall and the arm had broken off.
“What happened?” D’Molay asked the other guard.
“Some kind of explosion. It turned everyone nearby to white sand. They are frozen in their tracks! No one knows what caused it. We must help Set, it affected him as well,” the man babbled as he walked quickly on ahead. D’Molay digested this revelation which explained why no guard had intercepted him. Many had been turned into statues. A jolt of fear quickened his steps as he worried that Aavi might have met the same fate.
At last the guard stopped before an open door. Inside were a bloodied table and a large white statue of Set. It looked harder and denser then the statues in the hallway and its eyes were glowing faintly pink.
“Almighty Set was affected as well, but he still lives.” The guard prostrated himself before the still figure. D’Molay thought he saw Set move just a fraction in response to the guard’s respect.
“We need to get a high priest or a healer. I will fetch one!” Before the guard could protest, D’Molay left the cell and headed down the corridor in the opposite direction. He ran for about seventy feet and swerved to dodge what remained of another statue. Judging by the position of the rubble, his man must have been running when he had been turned to stone. Something about the statue’s features looked familiar.
“Kafele!”
Crouching down, he looked at his old friend. “So it got you too. What were you up to, and what did you do with Aavi?” he demanded of the stone figure. Realizing he would find no answers here, D’Molay stood up and continued quickly down the hall. He came to another intersection and looked in all three directions. Ahead of him was the main entrance to the prison, now guarded only by more statues. Down the right corridor, he saw another frozen victim. Two more broken statues cluttered the passage to the left, but something on the floor behind them was moving.
“Aavi!” He ran to her, crouching down to gently touch her shoulder and make eye contact, but she did not recognize him or even seem to be aware anyone was there. She remained curled up in a fetal position, shaking uncontrollably and in shock. “Aavi? Aavi, it’s me, D’Molay.” He stroked her face and tried to get her to look at him, but got no response. “What have they done to you? I’ve got to get you out of here.”
Cradling her in his arms, he picked her up and started walking further down the hallway. His plan was to take the next intersection to the left and work his way back to the secret entrance. He hoped Tenh-Mer was still up there, or this effort would all be for nothing. D’Molay was at odds with himself for putting all his hope on a demon. Such an act might come back to haunt him in the end. Aavi sagged in his arms, limp as a rag doll.
Turning left at the next corridor, he was confronted by another guard heading toward him. This one’s uniform was more decorated than that of the other guard he had met. This indicated he had power, and could make trouble for D’Molay.
“Where are you going with her?” he asked. D’Molay quickly fabricated a story, hoping the other man would be too busy with other concerns to bother with him.
“I was going to put her in a cell, sir. I found her in the corridor. Somehow she got out.”
The guard looked suspiciously at D’Molay, “Who’s your commander?”
“I was sent here by Sekhmet’s high priest to assist. We heard about the explosion.”
“We’ve told no one about this. You lie!” the man said as he went for his scimitar.
D’Molay had anticipated this kind of reaction and did the only thing he could think of considering that he was carrying Aavi in his arms. He rushed forward as fast as he could to collide into the man. He and Aavi smashed into the guard, who bounced back against the wall before he drew his weapon. Aavi fell to the ground as D’Molay, who had kept his footing, quickly pulled his stolen scimitar out. The guard recovered and took a swing at D’Molay with his scimitar, wounding him in the arm.
Ignoring the cut, D’Molay moved a bit further down the hallway to lead the guard away from Aavi. He didn’t want her to be accidentally cut or used as a hostage. “Come on then, is that all you’ve got?” he goaded the guard.
The guard moved closer and made a thrusting move at D’Molay’s stomach. D’Molay dodged to the side and jumped forward, swinging his blade down hard, cutting the man’s arm off at the forearm. His enemy screamed as he saw his arm on the floor and the blood pouring out of his stump. As the guard fell to his knees, D’Molay moved behind him, held the man’s head back, and slit his throat. Such brutality was committed out of mere necessity. He needed the guard quiet and unable to report what he looked like or whom he had rescued. D’Molay released the body and it collapsed to the floor. He wiped the bloody scimitar on the dead guard’s uniform and sheathed it. Then he went to Aavi and picked her up again, calling her name softly. She was still catatonic and unresponsive. D’Molay thought it was just as well she hadn’t seen what he had just done.
At the next intersection, he turned right again and at the end of this hallway could see the door that led to the bathroom and Tenh-Mer’s secret escape route. There was no one between them and the exit. He walked all the faster, trying to get to the door before something else got in the way. Behind him he heard voices yelling. He picked up his pace, all his strength focused on quickly reaching the passage to the roof. Beyond that, there were still many obstacles to freedom, but to get that far would make his efforts to this point feel like success. He reached the door with Aavi, slid into the chamber, and closed and latched the door behind them. The little lock would only withstand pressure for a moment or two, but even a short delay might make a critical difference to the outcome of this escape. He gently put Aavi down on the seat ledge and leaned her up against the back wall as he listened to determine whether the voices were coming toward them. The voices still sounded far away, which gave him hope that they would really get away.
D’Molay stood up on the ledge to pull the iron grating down and then picked up Aavi again. “Aavi, you have to
crawl through this gap. Can you do that? Aavi?” He tried to get her to respond, by getting very close and looking her in the face. “I’m going to put you in this hole, and you have to crawl. Just crawl, I’ll be right behind you.” For a second she seemed to look straight into his eyes and he thought she might have understood what he said. Then he hugged her. “Go, but stop crawling when you get to the end of the hole. I’ll be right behind you to make sure you are safe, all right?” he whispered in her ear. Her long curly locks tickled his nose. He could still fell her shaking as he boosted her toward the hole. He gently guided her head and arms into the gap in the wall, but she made no effort to pull herself forward.
“Aavi, crawl. Come on, you can do it.” Still holding her body and legs in his arms, he carefully pushed her further into the opening. Then he felt her pull herself along a little bit but she stopped. He cursed as he realized Aavi had gone limp. Their only hope was that Tenh-Mer had waited. He put his face into the opening, and risked a yell. “Tenh-Mer!”
For a few torturous seconds he heard nothing. Then there came a scrabbling noise and a familiar voice. “You found your friend! Uh, is she still alive?”
“She’s unconscious,” D’Molay explained over Aavi’s back. “Can you pull her through and fly her out of the compound?”
“I think so, if you can help push her. I’m hanging upside down, so I can’t pull so easily.”
“Of course. Grab her arms, and don’t forget to come back for me.” He shoved Aavi along and with Tenh-Mer pulling from the other side the rest of her soon disappeared into the passage. By the time D’Molay had hauled himself into the hole, Aavi was completely out of sight. He prayed Tenh-Mer had flown off with her and not dropped her to the ground. Crawling with tense determination, D’Molay soon faced the opening, where he waited to Tenh-Mer to return. He regretfully realized he had left his good clothing behind. Reflectively he checked to make sure he still had his knife, and its presence more than compensated for his other losses. His arm began to sting from the bite of the guard’s scimitar as he willed Tenh-Mer to return. “Come on, Demoness, don’t leave me here. It’s just a matter of time before someone tries that door.”
CITY OF THE GODS: FORGOTTEN Page 27
