CITY OF THE GODS: FORGOTTEN

by Verne, M. Scott

  “Do you have any women’s clothes?”

  Kastor grinned at the shocked look D’Molay’s odd request caused to appear on Leonidus’s face. “You’d better explain about Aavi,” Kastor laughed.

  “For my traveling companion,” D’Molay clarified. “She needs an outfit to replace her damaged clothing, if you have anything for a woman.”

  “Oh by Zeus’ beard! Gather what you need and bring it to me so I can log it out of my inventory. You can see where the armor is. I think there might some ceremonial garb in those crates in the corner that was meant for females.” Leonidus pointed out the boxes and then went back to writing down what his slaves were unpacking.

  Kastor patted D’Molay on the shoulder. “That’s as kindly as he gets.”

  They picked out a breast plate, boots, helmet, greaves, and an armored kilt. Then D’Molay searched through the crates for something that Aavi could use. He found a blue, sleeveless dress and a pair of elaborate leather sandals that laced up to the top of the calves. They looked like they would fit so he brought them to Leonidus to strike from his inventory. Leonidus handed his scroll to Kastor. “You recruited him, so you can sign for these,” he said.

  Kastor took the quill. “I’ll sign. The things I do for you, D’Molay.”

  “I owe you for this favor. Where are your men stationed?”

  “We’re on guard along the southeast rampart. You can join us when the time comes, and then you can buy us a round of wine when it’s all over.” D’Molay agreed to do both as they walked back to the main courtyard. “Now, to arrange that meeting for you,” Kastor said. “Get out of those rags. I’ll come for you at your woman’s room when I get you an audience.”

  “Its number twenty three,” D’Molay told him.

  Kastor pointed to a flight of stairs. It’s right up there. I’ll come to collect you soon.”

  Kastor hurried off as D’Molay walked up the stairs and over to number twenty-three. He paused at the door, wondering if he should knock. Eros had brought them here. What if he was still inside? An insecure thread of jealousy flared in D’Molay as he perversely imagined Eros using his powers of passion to make Aavi pay for their rescue. He knew what gods expected of women. D’Molay grabbed the doorknob and pushed his way inside.

  “Aavi?” He peeked in the room and saw her curled up on the bed, her back to the door. On the floor he saw their knapsack, along with his bow and quiver of arrows. A wave of relief washed over him. Quietly, he put down the gear he was carrying and walked over to her. She was wearing a simple white gown that suited her so well it made the clothing he had chosen for her from the storeroom seem gaudy in comparison. He leaned over to gently touch her shoulder.

  She turned her head, opening her eyes to find a soldier standing above her. Then she realized it was D’Molay. She sat bolt upright, grabbing him around the neck and shoulders and hugging him for dear life. Still weakened from his ordeal, D’Molay lost his balance and fell on the bed. The two of them lay side by side as she held him desperately.

  “I was so afraid you’d die, even after Eros said you probably wouldn’t.”

  “But here I am.” He winked at her and Aavi began to smile once again. She told him how they got to the Fort and flying in the air. He told her about the healers. Then they rested until the long shadows of the day’s end began to crawl along the floor and the remaining sunlight lit the room in a golden glow.

  Aavi at the Fortress of Ares

  A Greek Woman (Sir Lawrence Alma Tadema, c. 1870).

  Chapter 40 - The Gathering Storm

  Kastor had come for D’Molay just after a small, plain dinner of bread and stew had been brought to the room. Grabbing a heel of bread, his stomach grumbling at the soldier’s bad timing, D’Molay assured Aavi he wouldn’t be gone long, but had to keep his appointment to share what he had discovered about the Mayans with the Greek commanders.

  When he came before them, he learned that Zephyrus had already passed on his warning. He provided a few more details, but in truth the meeting with the war council was merely a formality. He learned that Greek gods and creatures that had command of the air were at that very moment searching for the rafts. When he returned to their room, Aavi’s full stomach had lulled her to sleep and he promptly joined her in slumber.

  When they awoke the next day, Aavi maintained her pleasant mood, especially when D’Molay showed her the blue dress and sandals he had obtained from Leonidus.

  “You’ll look like a Greek goddess wearing these,” he grinned at her.

  “Really?” she said shyly. “I’m not sure I should. At least I have two dresses now, in case something happens to this one. And you look so powerful in your soldier clothes. I’d be scared if I didn’t know you were you,” she added.

  D’Molay had to admit he felt more confident outfitted for action, with his greaves and helmet on a nearby table beside his weapons, waiting for a battle he hoped would never come.

  “Did you see?” she said, grabbing one of his hands and pulling him around the room to show off all its amenities. D’Molay just smiled as she pointed out the quality of the bedclothes, the softness of the cushioned seats, and the bright skylight through which the sun poured in. Their trials hadn’t changed her. She was still impressed by fairly mundane things. He had to keep reminding himself that it was all new to her, and that they had just spent a week mostly sleeping outside on the ground.

  “Try it out!” she said, pointing at the larger chair. D’Molay eased into it, leading Aavi to wonder if he was really cured. “Do you still hurt from the wounds? Are you tired?”

  He settled into the seat, placing his forearms upon the padded armrests. “We’ve slept for almost an entire day, Aavi. I’m wide awake. My side’s a bit stiff, though,” he admitted. “How about you?” Aavi carried a basket of fruit over and set it within D’Molay’s reach. He popped a few grapes into his mouth.

  “I’m fine. I’ve just been here. Eros helped me find this room.”

  D’Molay grinned at her around his mouthful of grapes, feeling a bit mischievous after his brush with death. “Is that all he did?” D’Molay teased. Aavi was a remarkably beautiful girl. He knew the god must have taken note of it. Aavi’s expression changed a bit as D’Molay waited for her response, and he again feared that the possibility he put forward as a joke might actually be true. “Aavi?” he asked, more seriously.

  She had promised Eros not to tell D’Molay about the piece of metal. Her eyes shifted to the knapsack where she had hidden it and she realized she was going to have to come up with something to say that might just be a lie. Luckily, she quickly thought of something she could say that was entirely true.

  “Eros told me there was going to be a battle here,” she said. “That means people are going to get hurt. Killed.” She sat down across from D’Molay’s chair on the edge of the bed, curling in upon herself slightly as she worried. “Are you going to fight?”

  D’Molay leaned forward. “Only if I must. We’re here to see the beast, and once we have, we’ll go.” D’Molay wasn’t sure he could keep that promise, but the thought of getting mixed up in whatever war Ares had planned was not going to help him with Aavi’s lost memories. He stood and held his hand out. “Come on, Aavi. Let’s do what we came to do.”

  Aavi took his hand, feeling the warmth and confidence it exuded. Relieved that she hadn’t had to lie, she was content to let D’Molay lead her into the outer hallway. She started to move toward the stairs but felt a tug as D’Molay held her back.

  “There are soldiers everywhere, Aavi,” he cautioned. “We’re going to have to be careful, or the ones guarding the beast might catch us.” D’Molay pulled her into a recessed doorway near the stairs as he took a look at the foot traffic in the halls. On their level, priests were bustling back and forth. Several walked right by them without a second glance, and D’Molay decided that the religious members of the community were no threat. He led Aavi further down the corridor, passing by the main staircase toward a smaller one i
n the back he’d watched the priests use. Since he was already dressed as a soldier, he hoped they would be less noticed as they explored the fortress.

  It wasn’t the widest of passages, and several times along its zigs and zags he and Aavi had to plaster themselves against the wall to let others pass. A few soldiers did brush by, but they seemed intent on running the errands they had been sent on. None of them questioned D’Molay or Aavi, and those who did take more than a moment’s look seemed only to be appreciating Aavi’s beauty.

  “That was easy,” D’Molay said softly as they reached the bottom of the stairwell. Another wide hallway stood before them, with two narrower lanes extending to their left and right. At the end of the right passage stood a soldier poised before an iron gate. “I think he’s guarding one of the ways down to the dungeon,” he whispered to Aavi. “We’ll have to find another.”

  “There’s more than one?” Aavi asked.

  “Has to be. The beast is too big. They could never have brought it in this way.”

  From down the wide hall, D’Molay heard something that sounded like wheels rolling across stone. He walked Aavi to a position where they could peer toward the sound. In a great open room that lay before them, men were hauling on massive pulleys that in turn spun giant gears. Outside light poured down on them from a rectangular opening above their heads. Looking up, D’Molay deduced that the top of the hole was at the level of the fortress courtyard, and the machinery the men were powering connected to a platform the size and shape of the hole. It was an elaborate lift designed to raise siege weapons from this room, the fortress armory. As he watched, three heavy assault ballistae were hauled onto the platform by men standing on ramps working other ropes. The scale of the lift would easily have accommodated something beast-sized.

  “What are they moving?” Aavi asked. The things rising in the air had wheels, but they were different from the chariots and carriages she’d seen.

  “Weapons,” D’Molay answered as his eyes traced along the ramps. He could see that one of them had a branch that led into another room. “Let’s sneak by while they’re still busy with them,” he said.

  The armory was well stocked and it wasn’t hard to find cover as they worked their way around the straining soldiers. D’Molay and Aavi stayed behind stacked crates of arrows and tightly-packed racks of spears and pikes as they approached the bottom of the branching ramp. As they paused to wait for just the right moment to dodge into the darkness beyond the end of the slope, Aavi noticed a pile of netting on the ground. She wasn’t sure why it caught her eye, but it seemed important somehow. She tugged on D’Molay’s shirt, pointing down. Seeing it, D’Molay nodded.

  “The beast was in a net just like that,” he confirmed. “We’re definitely going the right way.”

  Behind them, there was a snap of rope and several men cried out a warning as something went wrong with one of the pulleys. A pop of cracking wood followed as soldiers rushed toward the lift to compensate for the mishap. It was the perfect distraction and D’Molay took full advantage of it, pulling Aavi behind him as he ran around the corner into the semi-darkness of the dungeon passage. Pressed against the wall, breathing quietly, they waited a moment to make sure they hadn’t been spotted. No one came, so they moved on.

  Inside, sparsely spaced wall torches cut the darkness just enough to allow them to move slowly forward. D’Molay supposed Ares didn’t want to make it easy for escapees to navigate their way straight to the armory. They crept along like turtles, until Aavi sudden dashed ahead.

  “I know where it is!”

  She took off at a brisk pace, and though D’Molay preferred careful stealth speed might be to their advantage. He had no idea how much time they had to find the beast before some guard had the wits to catch them. Aavi’s sudden sureness had to be another confirmation that all they suspected about her connection to the beast must be true. Following quickly after her, he allowed himself to trust in that theory. They passed numerous smaller cells as Aavi dodged through a series of twists and turns, which D’Molay took care to memorize so they could find their way out. Her path was leading them deep into the center of the fortress. D’Molay smelled dampness and heard dripping water ahead of them.

  “The pits. Don’t go into the pits,” a cracked voiced hissed in warning as they hurried by another nondescript barred doorway.

  “Are we getting close?” D’Molay asked, his nerve beginning to waver. He didn’t care for caves or dark places. He’d had enough of that in Purgatory. Then Aavi stopped short, not needing to answer, for they had arrived.

  D’Molay instinctively placed a hand on Aavi’s shoulder to keep her from rushing right up to the bars of the great cell in which the beast lay. It was hunkered down, licking a wound on its left flank. D’Molay momentarily thought it was unaware of them, but it became clear from the growling that passed through its suddenly bared teeth that the beast was conscious of its visitors. The patchy hair on its back quivered and rose to stand up like the fur on a startled cat’s tail. Aavi stepped back slightly, sheltering against D’Molay’s body.

  “There it is,” he whispered. Aavi shivered as his breath teased her ear. “Do you recognize it?”

  It was dark in the cell, hard to see the creature clearly; so Aavi instead sought to examine the glow of the energy inside it. She inhaled in surprise, causing D’Molay to pull her even closer. “I can’t see its color,” she said.

  A second after words passed Aavi’s lips, the beast twisted to face them, scrambling up on its wounded legs and backing into a defensive position against the back wall of the cell. D’Molay’s eyes widened as a plaintive squeal, unmistakably of fear, issued from its blood-caked muzzle. He remembered how the creature had thrashed when he tried to project his thoughts of Aavi toward it. At the time, he interpreted its violence as an urge to do the girl harm. Now it was apparent that the opposite was true. The vicious monster which had ravaged the realms was abjectly terrified of Aavi.

  Aavi pulled away from D’Molay and moved right up to the bars, wrapping her pale fingers around the stout columns of black iron. “Aavi, be careful!” he urged as she stood there.

  The beast yowled. It shuffled sideways along the wall and cried again, louder this time. D’Molay began to worry that the noise would draw guards to investigate. However, that concern flew out of his head as he saw Aavi stick her arm through the bars and reach for the creature. Before D’Molay could react and pull her away, the beast lunged, head lowered like a charging bull. Astonishingly it stopped, head just inches away from Aavi’s outstretched fingertips. It remained there, frozen, docile, as if it were a stringed puppet awaiting tugs from the girl’s fingers to bring it to life. D’Molay wrinkled his nose at the odor of gore that hung in the air from its hot, moist breath. He wanted to beg Aavi to pull her hand out of the cage; but he stilled his tongue, fearing any distraction might break whatever spell-like advantage she had over the horror. Something was transpiring between them and D’Molay was too curious to try to stop it. The sound of the creature’s panting breath echoed in the close space of the passage. Aavi’s hand was only inches from razor-sharp teeth, yet her fingers were relaxed and steady.

  Then just beyond the tip of her index finger, a diffuse beam of white light began to dance upon the beast’s head. It formed into a small dot just above and between its widely dilated eyes. Then, as quickly as that glimmer had begun, it vanished. The beast’s head began to cast right and left, up and down, as if it were trying to fall under the elusive white beam again.

  “What’s happening? Have you remembered anything?” D’Molay asked, unable to keep quiet any longer. Even as he voiced his questions, he was looking over his shoulder and back down the black corridor, expecting trouble at any moment. “Do you need more time?”

  Aavi pulled her hand from between the bars, turning toward D’Molay with a perplexed expression on her face. “I’ve never seen it before,” she said. “But . . . I think . . . ”

  D’Molay was sure he heard footsteps
and voices down the passage, but with all the twists and turns in the dungeon it was quite possible they were still safe from discovery. “What, Aavi? What?” he urged.

  “I think it knows me, and I think something happened that changed it, and that’s why it looks different to me,” she added with more confidence.

  “Well, that gives us plenty to think about,” D’Molay concluded. He had been hoping for a more definite resolution to the mystery, but decided that this was enough for the time being. Perhaps Aavi would remember more as time passed. “We’d better go before we’re missed.”

  “Will it be alright?” she asked as D’Molay led her back the way they’d come. He paused at a left turn, checking first to make sure no one was there.

  “Well enough, I suppose,” he said. “I don’t think it will get many visitors.”

  “Wait.” Aavi pulled back on D’Molay’s arm, halting their progress. “I shouldn’t leave it yet. I’m supposed to . . . supposed to . . .” She stared at the ground, concentrating, trying to remember. Frustration at being unable to brought tears to her eyes. D’Molay spared her only a moment to think, because those noises he’d heard earlier were now definitely closing in.

  “Aavi, we can come back, but right now we have to go,” he said firmly. “We can talk to the healers and priests back in the guest quarters. I bet they know ways to bring memories back.” D’Molay was making this up on the fly, and hoped Aavi was too upset to realize it was baseless speculation crafted to get her moving. It seemed to work, as his next step forward brought her along. Yet she was silent as they crept through the passages, and D’Molay felt self-conscious as he wondered if she was judging his convenient tale about the Greeks’ ability to retrieve lost memories. He focused on navigating the corridors, pushing the nag of guilt aside. In the City of the Gods, one’s psyche was probed all the time. From the guardians at the gate to bored gods with mind-skimming powers, no one’s private thoughts were entirely secure. He had gotten used to that fact, but was irritated with himself to feel shame over Aavi possibly doing such a thing. He had nothing of importance to hide, did he?