CITY OF THE GODS: FORGOTTEN (58 page)

Zeus sparked with lightning and his voice thundered at the report. “Outrageous! You must crush them!”

“Of course, Father. That is my purpose. I didn’t come here to ask your permission, but to enlist your aid,” Ares said.

Like human fathers, Zeus loved to feel needed. “What can I do for you?” he asked magnanimously, his eyes sparkling.

“The invading armies are trespassing on the Middle Realm. Soon complaints and petitions will come to the Council from the Celts. Keep them talking. Delay, investigate. Send emissaries here and there. Do anything that will allow me the time and freedom to deal with our enemies without any political interference.”

“I shall. As for emissaries, I will send some loyal to our cause who will not find any reason to report developments to the Council,” Zeus grinned craftily. “I already have a pair in mind.”

Ares nodded and turned to leave. “I’ve been eager for a war over something that matters to me,” he said, looking back over his shoulder at Zeus. “And the odds are challenging. Two armies against merely a portion of my own. Just when I thought there was no point in remaining here, my mind is changed.”

“We will always remain here,” Zeus stated, with a wink to his son, “preferably as the last ones standing.”

“I’ve no objection,” Ares said tersely as he exited the chamber.

Plans raced through Zeus’ head as he forced himself to stroll casually toward the grand Council hall. Even the sight of Konohana’s lovely female attendant who waited patiently outside the chamber should their goddess call, did not distract him. He approached his seat, stepping confidently up the stairs of the platform. Shiva and Konohana had their heads together, laughing. Quetzalcoatl’s chair was empty, but one of his high priests sat on the steps several levels below and directly in front of it, signifying that his god would not be in attendance today. Zeus was glad of this. It would be far easier to take control of things without the Feathered Serpent vying for that role.

As he passed the Mayan god’s priest, he tried to remember the man’s unpronounceable name. Topilstilskin? Zeus shook off the feeling that an omniscient god such as himself should know.

“Servant, where is your Lord?” Zeus demanded, pausing as he passed the priest.

“The celestial cycle requires him to lead our rites,” Topiltzin said cryptically, eyes focused on Zeus’ sandals.

“Taking another blood bath, is he?” Zeus dismissed the priest with a sound of disgust and continued on his way. His expression hidden by his bowed head, Topiltzin smiled at what he took for ignorance of the arrogant Greek god’s coming defeat.

Konohana turned from Shiva to welcome Zeus. “We have heard your forces caught the beast,” she nodded approvingly. Shiva leaned forward in his chair, also eager for news.

“What have you learned of it?” Shiva asked.

Zeus inwardly cursed. He should have asked Ares more questions, but he hadn’t guessed that his fellow Council members would want to know so many details. He brought his hand up to his beard, as if he were thinking of the answers. Then it came to him that not having those answers at hand was exactly the delay he was hoping to engineer.

“I shall summon my messenger, Hermes, and soon we will know,” Zeus said. Reaching into the folds of his robes, he withdrew a small golden seashell. “Hermes, attend,” he spoke into it. Mere seconds later, the incomprehensibly fast messenger of the Greeks swept into the hall. The breeze caused by the wings of his boots and hat stirred the flower petals that floated by Konohana into a hurricane of scent as he landed by Zeus.

“You have a message?” Hermes asked. Zeus nodded, putting his arm around Hermes’ shoulders to turn him away from the others. He then spoke in a whisper audible only to the messenger.

“Do not show any alarm at my words,” he began. “There are armies from Egyptos and Babylonia on their way to attack Olympia and steal the beast. Ares is preparing, but he needs trusted spies to watch and report on the invader’s progress. Find Eros, find Zephyrus. I am ordering them to watch unseen from the sky and report the number and speed of our enemies to Ares before he has to engage them.”

“Two armies?” Hermes whispered, awed. Zeus squeezed his shoulder to remind him to be quiet. As he did this, he caught the Mayan priest looking at him with a smug expression on his face. Zeus frowned.

“Perhaps three. I suspect - never mind, just go tell those two to do this for Ares.
 
The skies must be watched.”

Hermes nodded and immediately shot out of the Council hall, causing the banners and flames of the torches to flap wildly as he passed. Zeus composed himself and turned back to his co-rulers. “Hermes is speeding to the fortress to get the latest report about the beast.”

Shiva scrutinized Zeus carefully. He wondered what the exchange between the Greek god and his messenger had really been about. He decided Zeus just hadn’t followed up until forced to, so intent he was on his own pleasures.

“Good,” Konohana, by her nature less suspicious, said. “While we are waiting, shall we take care of today’s petitioners?”

“Of course,” Zeus said magnanimously, extending his arms out to the room. “Admit our citizens.”

The hall guards opened a door and Zeus could see a long line of people extending into the distance. This was exactly what he had hoped for. He was going to make sure that each and every petitioner received a thorough hearing, no matter how excruciatingly dull their case or trivial their complaint. The longer he could stall, the longer he could keep prying eyes away from his battle business. Hearing cases also gave him the perfect alibi for being removed from the gross violation of City law that armed combat between realms would commit. His eye fell on Quetzalcoatl’s empty seat. Set, Lamasthu and Quetzalcoatl; Zeus wondered how such an unlikely alliance came to be, and just how it was connected to the beast. Such thoughts made his head hurt. Let them battle, and hopefully die. Then none of those questions would matter.

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Hermes went first to the vineyards of Dionysius, where Zephyrus was attending one of the frequent grape festivals. The messenger wistfully looked down at the mortals dancing beneath copious sprays of wine raining out from gigantic tapped barrels. He would like nothing more than to join in the revelry, and suspected that prying the wind away from it would not be the easiest of tasks. He hoped he had arrived before Zephyrus was completely drunk.

He found him astride one of the barrels, leaning over to fill a large cup from one of the streams of wine. That he could keep his balance was a good sign, and Hermes sped over to him.

“How’s the vintage?” he asked while Zephyrus drank deeply.

Zephyrus cleared the dregs of his draught from his lips with his forearm and grinned. “Wet and sweet.”

“Then drink up, quickly, for Zeus has need of you,” Hermes said.

“Right now?” Zephyrus furrowed his brow. “Why?”

As Hermes explained the situation, Zeph’s demeanor shifted from annoyed to intrigued. “A battle? Of course I’ll help.” When Hermes further described the exotic type of creatures to watch out for, Zephyrus was positively enthusiastic about the assignment. All had gone much easier than Hermes expected, but he had forgotten how much Zephyrus loved action and excitement. All that remained now was to round up Eros, and he doubted that he would give him much trouble. On that count, he was somewhat mistaken.

After commanding Zephyrus to hurry to Eros’ bungalow, Hermes sped ahead to alert the god of passions to his part in Zeus’ plan. Eros’ refuge was always cloaked in a veil of night, but Hermes could see the soft flames of hundreds of candles lending mood lighting to the compound. The play of light and dark set a romantic yet mysteriously dangerous tone. Hermes flew past many couples embracing in the shadows on his way to Eros, who stood on a balcony overlooking a garden where luminous flowers glowed yellow and green.
 

“I bring word from Zeus,” Hermes said. Eros did not acknowledge him immediately, but continued to stare out into his pocket of night. “He has an assignment for you.”

Eros pointed out over his garden. “Can you see it? My flowers are dying. I remember when every color blazed bright. Now only the yellow buds of friendship are strong. The others endure, but . . .” Eros paused, only then processing what Hermes had said. “What does he want? Some new trouble with a reluctant nymph? I have problems of my own, as you see.”

“No, this is not a matter of the passions,” Hermes said. “Armies come to attack Olympia to gain the beast. You will help by watching and reporting to Ares as the forces move.”

Eros snapped his wings together angrily. “What do I know about armies? Ares has hundreds of demigods and favored men who could do this better than I. Even other gods.”

Several dozen candles blew out as Zephyrus swept in. He reformed himself into a man on the balcony next to Hermes.

“Are you ready to go?” Zephyrus asked Eros, his eyes wide and bright. Hermes noticed that Eros became even more sad and frustrated upon the arrival of his friend.

“You two are Zeus’ chosen. You must obey,” Hermes stated, softly but firmly.

Despite Eros’ deep conviction that he was not the god for this job, he had to do it. It was not the threat of incurring Zeus’ wrath that made him agree. As Eros looked at Zephyrus, he knew he had to go along to keep him safe. His friend was exhibiting that careless, innocent arrogance that so often got him into deep trouble. He really had no choice.

“I’m ready. Let’s go.”

The flowers in the garden briefly glowed a brighter yellow as the trio flew away.

While in the clutches of Quetzalcoatl’s flying servant, Mazu had discovered that struggling only caused the many-winged snake to squeeze her tighter. Its hot, sharp scales cut her skin. As she felt blood run down her arms, she wondered if there was enough water in the flow to fuel an escape, or help her mount a more challenging resistance to her captor. But there was nothing to draw on. Unlike the water-rich plasma of mortal blood, Mazu’s immortal mix was of a more exotic chemistry. The serpent’s magic halted her ability to change form. There was nothing she could do but accept submission as a path to future escape, as she was carried off. Even meditation was made difficult by the way her head was held so tightly in a coil. The calming words she silently recited fought their own battle against the fear and frustration rising in Mazu’s heart.

After days of travel, they descended. Mazu was battered by foliage as they fell through the tops of dry, cold evergreens. The needles slapped against her body where it was not covered by the serpent’s coils, but Mazu felt nothing, so numb she was from being squeezed. A few moments more and they cleared the cluster of trees and skimmed over a dry gulch, an empty channel that led straight to the base of another step pyramid. It had none of the grandeur of Quetzalcoatl’s. There were no warriors on guard, no workers busy at their tasks. It was built of the local gray, sandy rock, featuring only a few colorful patches of cold-climate lichen randomly nesting on its steps. Mazu could see no passages or doors on this prison to which Quetzalcoatl had consigned her, but the serpent knew a secret way in.

It dove, roaring, at the flat apex of the pyramid. At the reverberating tone of its voice, a circular design etched on the top platform began to glow and split into several great pie slice-shaped slabs. Those sections tipped downward from one another where they met at a center point, revealing a dark shaft. Mazu briefly glimpsed symbols of rain and lightning on the brightly decorated rocks as she and the serpent plummeted down the hole. Abruptly, their fall stopped as the serpent’s wings shot out to slow them and Mazu was dropped on a cold, dry floor. Before exhaustion overtook her, she caught a glimpse of the sky, now merely a pale dot of white-blue far above her head. Light and hope were out of her reach.

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D’Molay awoke feeling more refreshed and energized then he had been in weeks. All the aches and pains of the last few days of travel and fighting had vanished. He felt confident, immersed in an inner calm that had eluded him for some time. Being hidden away safely underground in the heart of a dryad’s inner sanctum had proved to be good for body and spirit.
 
Sitting up, looking once again at their surroundings, he mused it was like being in the womb of nature itself.