City of gods - Hellenica (19 page)

“They became quiet,” interrupted Cassander. “After you stormed out, it took the wind out of our jeers. We had nothing to say, and you accomplished your goal. You’ve quite an imperious air about you.”

“I’m happy to have quieted the audience,” she said, “but it was inadvertent; I was not trained to be imperious.”

“Of the Four Horsemen, you’re the White Knight, are you not? And is the White Knight not meant to be a leader? If nothing else, does the White Knight not lead by her
virtue
?”

“Perhaps,” said Saoirse, “but I wasn’t meant to lead. Quieting an audience by shame is one thing, but my kind leads neither nation nor army.”

“Fine, we’ll argue your destiny later,” said Cassander, smiling again. “For now, I wish to speak of another Horseman: the god of war.”

“Gunnar,” she said. “What of him?”

“I should ask you that: what of him? Why is he sick? How should we find the cure?”

“That’s not your concern,” said Saoirse.

“Why not?”

Be quiet
, thought Saoirse.
Share as few words as possible, and no more. The Spartans may defend us out of duty, including Gunnar, but they share little love for those who failed the Agoge. Be clear with this message, but couch your words carefully.

“I may be able to trust you, Cassander,” said Saoirse, “but I can’t trust the Spartan mercenaries in aggregate.”

Cassander laughed and then looked around the room before bending in closer to Saoirse.

“You know so much, yet not all,” he said. “You’re right to distrust the Spartan nation, or any group for that matter. But though Spartans have disdain for those that fail the Agoge, their relationship with Gunnar is mysterious. They put him on a pedestal.”

“They treat him with no special respect in the Academy,” said Saoirse. “And your
Little Sparta
has given him nothing but disdain.”

“I can’t speak for the government of Little Sparta,” said Cassander, “but when no authority figure is around, the Spartan individuals speak well of him.”

“Why?”

“Spartans are tough, but we hold one dirty secret,” said Cassander. “We can run for three days without sleep, swim a river in full armor and fight endless battles without food. But we can’t do any of this without being
ordered
to do it. Gunnar was exiled from our country only because he
thought for himself.”

“He told me of his time,” said Saoirse. “Did he kill the Helot?”

“That’s for him to tell you,” said Cassander. “But I’ll tell you that he made a
choice
. And the Spartans admire that deeply. They won’t admit it, not now, but they admire him for it.”

Cassander leaned back and took a deep breath.

“When I brought Kayana to Hellenica, she said to me that ‘
This is a town of poets defended by paid mercenaries. How long can this last?’

“I told her that we were stronger than she thought, because our poets brought technology and
technology
is the true power of this day and age. That wasn’t entirely true; if the mercenaries on Hellenica’s outer wall were to turn their guns inward, what could we do?”

“Lock the doors of the Academy and wait down here for another age,” said Saoirse.

“You speak like a Horseman indeed,” said Cassander. “But for now, for
this age
, I ask you …
why is Gunnar sick
?”

“He was bitten by something,” said Saoirse. “That’s all I know.”

“Just a small bite, two marks?” asked Cassander.

“Yes.”

Cassander sighed deeply and thought for a moment.

“Though I know less than you what’s causing this, I fear Gunnar isn’t the first warrior to fall to these creatures, whatever they are.”

“Kayana spoke of a mercenary acting strangely,” said Saoirse.

“Dion, yes,” said Cassander. “He was in a coma after she visited his dreams, and when he awoke he was different. It’s hard to explain, but he was different.”

“Tell me what this thing is that I must fight,” said Saoirse, “or at least help me.”

“I know not what it is, and I can’t help you,” said Cassander. “I’m a Spartan and I’m only built to follow orders. But I can tell you that if this Academy is a newborn, there is an
infection
spreading among us that means to kill us in our infancy. What causes it and to what end it will lead I do not know. But it seems to be starting with the Warriors: the mercenaries, Rowan, and now Gunnar.”

“Has it infected you?” asked Saoirse.

“I should hope not,” said Cassander, smiling again. “But if you see me tomorrow, it may.”

“I shall keep that in mind,” said Saoirse, “but
while
you are still sane
, I need you to be more than a Spartan following orders. I need you to help me fight this.”

“If the White Knight of Virtue commands me I must certainly follow,” said Cassander. “So I’ll tell you
this
. These creatures that bite and cause us to act strangely; they seem to lurk in the Manitou forest of the Academy. This is where your afternoon class is; so keep your eyes open.”

“I shall,” said Saoirse.

“To cure this infection, you must find what this creature is,” said Cassander. “Once you find it, be careful to whom you show it, even me. Mercenaries and even gods may already be under its grasp.”

“I will,” she said, “but first I’ll find a way to cure Gunnar.”

“Good,” said Cassander. “For the Spartans know that one day, it will be Gunnar to lead us to freedom. That’s his destiny, and he can’t do it lying on his back in a coma. Keep your eyes open this afternoon, and above all else,
survive
; your afternoon class is in the Manitou, and these creatures are bound to hide well within its foliage.”

/***/

Saoirse went with her classmates and their dogs down to the second floor and entered the underground forest. The Manitou had grown since Gunnar’s lacrosse match and was beginning to encroach upon the artificial city. Moss and grass had covered the streets on the border and large, fierce birds had taken up residence in two buildings. Saoirse saw Spartan mercenaries hacking away at vines covering a shop, but Saoirse knew the store would be covered again within a day.
The Manitou of the Academy is like its counterpart, the Manitou district to the northwest of the conurbation,
thought Saoirse.
Neither gods nor men can contain it.

Their teacher didn’t seem to mind; he was the Manitou itself, or at least an extension of it. He was over two meters tall and appeared hazy: part ghost, part man and part deer. He had a cloudy, human-like face and body, and antlers with over a hundred points rested on top of his head. He walked quietly, and when he did so, he disappeared into mist; when he stopped walking, he rematerialized . He bid them forward and they trudged for twenty minutes; the environment held no roads, and the walk was slow-going and covered with thorns. Only Pan seemed to relish the ground and chirped nonstop as they walked.

“Our teacher, Manitou, he’s not an individual god,” said Pan. “He’s part of the forest to the northwest of the conurbation. It’s also called the Manitou.
This
forest is an extension of it, and
he
of this forest. They’re one.”

“How do you know so much, faun?” asked the crocodile god Sobek with a sneer.

“I spent two years in the Manitou growing up,” said Pan. “The real one to the northwest of the conurbation. It’s like here, but has more brambles and strange creatures that bite.”

Speaking of strange creatures that bite,
thought Saoirse as she looked around,
I need to find these legged snakes.

She looked around and found nothing. They traveled further through the forest and the walk got more difficult. Even the rocks were covered with thorny bushes.
But these creatures are out here somewhere,
she thought.
I wonder if Manitou senses their presence? Perhaps they’ve already bitten our teacher and he’s just leading us to their nest.

Pan ran ahead with his dog, already fluent in the canine tongue. After twenty minutes, Manitou bid them to stop and they looked up to see Pan in the tree, playing his lute. His small dog had somehow gotten into the branches and was barking in tune with Pan’s song:

When
Earth falls to night

And warmth becomes rare

When the sky loses sight

And dreams vanish in air

When cities collapse

And the gods disappear

You might think the world ended

But it will not end here

In the Manitou, the Manitou

The earth stays alive

The sun will shine through

'Til brambles sprout wide

In the Manitou, the Manitou

The forest lives on

It will fight, it will bite

But it will always live on

But you cannot relax

This place is no haven

The trees break your axe

And the rain's god-forsaken

You might think you can live here

And conquer it too

But it will rise out of control

'Til it grows over you

In the Manitou, the Manitou

The earth stays alive

The sun will shine through

'Til bramble
s sprout wide

In the Manitou, the Manitou

The forest lives on

It will fight, it will bite

But it will always live on

Manitou smiled and asked Pan to come down; the faun and his dog came down the tree gracefully.

“Cloven hooves and nailed paws make for hard climbing,” said Pan. “But we climb nonetheless.”

“Indeed,” said Manitou, smiling. “Though you may think Pan perfectly suited for these environs, he’s anything but. Nature is suited for itself, not for man and not for gods. It’s in
how we approach it
that Nature lends us its power. The humble faun who climbs trees will survive while an army is swept away by a flood below.”

Manitou sang a song in a language that Saoirse couldn’t understand. Pan joined in, first with his lute and then with his voice. The song was peaceful and entranced the group as night fell over the land. Soon an artificial moon rose above them.

“Now your task for this lesson is simple,” said Manitou. “There is an ‘evil deity’ hiding somewhere in this terrain. This deity is our own Heracles, of course, but you should consider him dangerous. Your job is to find him and subdue him. Have your dogs help with the former, and use your wits for the latter.  

“Be warned, finding him is only half the battle. Heracles will take great relish in playing the part of a mischievous god, and will fight back through nefarious means. You have two hours to find him and make him yield. Good luck.”

Manitou snapped his fingers and the moon became brighter, and then snapped his fingers again and a thousand artificial stars appeared in the sky. Saoirse and her class marveled at the change, and then realized that Manitou himself had disappeared.

“This is going to be fun,” said Pan.

A moment later it began to rain, and gusts of wind blasted them with chilly air. The Class gathered around with their dogs. They shivered for a bit, and then Pan and Nanook snapped into action. Nanook knocked down several trees on the periphery of their camp and stripped them of their leaved branches. He leaned the trees up against a rock and covered the top with branches until he made a small shelter. Pan had whipped up a fire, and in a moment they were drying themselves out. Only Sobek with his scaly skin preferred to stay outside.

“Thank you so much,” said Saoirse. “I’m not accustomed to the outdoors, and I’m not accustomed to the rain.”

“
This
isn’t rain,” scoffed Nanook with a smile.

“Actually, it’s
really
not rain,” said Pan. “It’s water from the ceiling, programmed to fall just on us. Look out twenty meters beyond our perimeter; it’s dry in every direction.”

Saoirse looked outside; indeed the rain only came in a circle around their little camp.

“We need to find Heracles,” said Pan. “This place is large; if he’s running, every moment will take him further from us.”

“We don’t need to find him,” said Nanook, “we need to
hunt
him.”

“
Hunt
Heracles?” asked Pan with a smile. “You don’t hunt a god as powerful as he.”

“He’s strong, but we are four—eight if you consider our animals,” said Nanook. “We’ll fashion some simple weaponry, then corner him. He will be ours.”