CITY OF THE GODS: FORGOTTEN (41 page)

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 that 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.”
 

The cool night wind blew across his face, but he was still sweating. For D’Molay, this was the worst part of the entire rescue. He could do nothing but wait and pray that help would come. It just wasn’t in his nature to wait passively. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he saw Tenh-Mer flying towards him out of the darkness. He felt a thump overhead as she landed, then her head and hands appeared, upside down over the roof’s edge. “Can you put your arms out?”

“Sure.
 
Now what?” He put his arms out and looked up at her.
 
Even in the dark he could see one of his arms was wet with his own blood.

“Push yourself out as fast as you can.
 
I’ll go off the roof at the same time and then we’ll fly to the ground. Make sure you hold on tight.”

“Fine, just get me away from here!” he grabbed her outstretched arms firmly. As he did, he felt those lustful feelings course through him. He tried to ignore them and stay focused on the task at hand. D’Molay’s wounded arm was wet with blood and started to feel numb.