CITY OF THE GODS: FORGOTTEN (71 page)

“Are you hungry, children?” she asked, smiling as claws clenched, horned heads bobbed, and bodies packed tightly together wriggled excitedly, rubbing each other raw with scales and spikes. Above the seething herd, a cloud of fat, mutant, biting flies had appeared. Even the smallest of Lamasthu’s minions had been invited to the feast. Extending an arm toward the fortress far away on the horizon, she commanded them. “Breach the walls. Eat anything you find inside.”

The creatures wheeled away, shambling, oozing, hopping and buzzing toward Ares’ stronghold. “If you clean your plates,” Lamasthu added softly to herself, “you may have Mayans and Egyptians for dessert.”

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The longer Mazu languished in the Temple of Chaac, the more worried she grew about Aavi and D’Molay. So much time had passed. Quetzalcoatl must be far along in whatever plan he had for the girl and the beast. Her deep meditations brought her no news. It was as if the dry stone prison had boxed her off not only from her element, but from the world at large. Her jailers seemed to thrive in the isolation. Chaac and the serpent slept like babes, rarely stirring in the darkness.

Mazu studied Chaac’s aged body. His limbs seemed brittle and stiff. Perhaps he had to sleep. Some gods of the City were weakening, no longer receiving sufficient worship to keep them going. Mazu understood how difficult it was to lose one’s powers. Her own abilities had suffered slightly, but at least there were enough humans in the realms, like the old fisherman, who still paid her respect. She felt the fine material of her red robes as her soft palms rested on her thighs. Perhaps Chaac would feel more like interacting with her if she appeared as used up as he. She changed back into her old ferrywoman form and waited patiently for him to wake.

“Good morning,” she said when Chaac eventually stirred. He groggily noticed that his red-robed prisoner was gone, and jerked to attention. “Be calm. I am still your guest.”

“Why did you change?” he asked as he winked sleep from his eyes. His serpent stretched and rearranged its coils as Chaac creakily got to his feet.

“You did say it was the dry season here,” Mazu explained. “So I decided to honor it as you do, by being old and desiccated.”

Chaac made a peeping sound, as if offended. “Appear as you wish,” Chaac scoffed. “It will not get you out of my temple.”

“Perhaps not,” Mazu said agreeably. “I merely thought that if we are to be cell mates you might prefer not to be reminded of a youthfulness you no longer possess.”

“I can be as youthful as any,” Chaac shot back. Mazu suppressed a smile. Chaac was not on the top of his game when he’d just woken up.

“What can I know except what I see?” she countered. “All I see is an old, old, frog.”

Chaac swung his ax, warming up his arm. “Then I’ll show you something else!” Chaac spun and cruelly struck the serpent with his axe, severing its body in half. Chaac knew its waters would revitalize him. Thunder reverberated through the chamber, pounding Mazu’s eardrums as a fount exploded from the snake. A bizarre, upward rain ascended the shaft as Chaac’s croaking laughter chased after it. “Now what do you see?” Chaac demanded as he stepped into the midst of the torrent. Almost instantly, his body rejuvenated. His muscles filled out rapidly like a sponge absorbing water.

“I see you’ve made a mistake,” Mazu said, just before jumping into the stream and fleeing with the rising rain.

The siege was progressing as Set expected. The Greeks were hiding behind their walls, letting their catapults rain stony death and fire upon his advancing crocodilians and the blood-hungry Mayans. Set was not concerned about conquering this realm, not even about taking the fortress itself. He only wanted what was hiding inside it. His military creatures need only break through walls and gates to let him in. He didn’t need their help to collect what he was after. The enchanted bird whistle around Aavi’s neck magically sang to Set, assuring him she was near. He watched his army work with a satisfied feeling of accomplishment as they rid a wall of defenders, scaled its ladders, and threw open a gate. Mayans and crocodilians swarmed into an outer courtyard where Greeks surged forward to repel their advance. Set followed at his leisure.

When he used few of his powers, Set had the look of any other animal-headed warrior of Egyptos. His clothing did not give him away as a great god, for he had never needed an elaborate costume to command fear and respect. The only thing he lacked was a weapon to complete his disguise. A few steps beyond the broken wall he found a dropped Mayan axe. It was inferior to his army’s gear, but sufficiently deadly. He playfully tested its balance by flipping it into the air, head over handle, anticipating the thrill he would feel when it connected with his target. He strode on. Although he passed within sight of many scouts and fighters, none realized one of Egyptos’s greatest gods was on the move.

In the confusing crush of enemies, it was easy for him to move toward Aavi’s hiding place. The necklace drew him toward an outbuilding just inside the first defensive wall.

The bird’s call was loud as Set reached the door of the stone hut. Its thatched roof and cypress door were on fire, set ablaze by the strikes of burning arrows. He kicked the door off weak hinges and watched intently as the slab of fiery wood fell inward, illuminating the interior. The door slammed against a stack of barrels and crates, several hot embers popping away and rolling toward a large pile of rags. Set kicked away a wad of fabric that started to smoke before a greater fire could start. He didn’t care if Aavi burned, but he was going to make absolutely sure she did so in his possession.

“What a ridiculous place to hide,” Set sneered. He advanced toward a large wooden bin heaped full with discarded clothing. Nothing moved there. “Paralyzed with fright? You should be.” Set struck the top right corner of the bin with the axe, the mortal weapon almost shattering from the divine force behind it. The crate could not withstand the blow, its front sheering away to leave only three sides of the box standing. Fabric tumbled out, and Set lunged in, digging for Aavi. The bird song was deafening now. He could feel the thrum of the magic whistle in his head. The fire behind him crackled, as if it were laughing at Aavi’s misfortune. His fingers closed on the necklace. Set yanked his fist from the bin, cursing. There was no girl attached. She had discarded the necklace to deceive him! Where was she?

Furious, Set allowed his true power out. His height and breadth increased as red fire danced along his limbs. His eyes glowed fiercely, the ordinary flames around them as weak as sunlight in comparison. He burst from the hut, vowing to destroy those who were helping Aavi hide. As he cast the axe away in disgust, he heard a great cheer rise from the other side of the fortress. Whipping around, he saw a large Greek contingent flanking Ares. The god was making short work of one of Lamasthu’s pets. His soldiers shouted his praises as he strangled a grotesque lizard. Set’s lips curled.

“Ares!”

Set ran toward the war god, swatting away dozens of Greek soldiers who were reckless enough to try to slow him down. The men screamed as streaks of Set’s crimson power sought out their hearts and burned right through them. But Ares’ armor blazed brighter as each man died for him, and he judged the god of Egyptos a fool for wasting his powers on humans and strengthening him in the process. Ares hopped off the dead lizard he was standing on and mockingly threw its torn-off head toward Set.

“Surrendering already?” Ares asked. The soldiers safely behind him dared to hoot and catcall as the strange god of Egyptos batted the piece of the lizard away.

“Hand over the girl called Aavi and the beast, or I will take this war into all of Olympia.”

“No. We will defeat you here,” Ares countered. “You will go back to Egyptos with nothing, and the Council will put your realm under my command for breaking the law. I like that prospect, don’t you, men?”

The Greeks sent up another deafening cheer. Set ignored their theatrics and pressed on.

“You don’t know what you’re protecting, Ares. I know what she is. I know what she brings. When the Council decides to give awards for service to the City, they will be honoring those wise enough to destroy her. If you send her out, you can share in the glory, spare your men, and retain your realm.”

The rumbling crash of another falling wall seemed to back up Set’s argument, but Ares was not persuaded.

“Glory? Glory is in war! Glory is in dying for war! Do you think I am some niggling god of compromise?” Ares drew his sword and advanced on Set. “We will fight you until every brick in our walls is ground to dust, and then we’ll choke you with it!”

Set prepared to defend himself. He could see Ares’ wolfish eyes staring at him hungrily from beneath his massive helmet. There seemed to be no weak spots on the war god’s armored body. Even if he had his best weapon, Set saw no good place to strike a killing blow. But then Set realized Ares had given him the perfect strategy for fighting back. Set gave up his form and shifted to a plume of dust, as he had when he travelled in the wake of his army. He threw his very self at Ares’ face, driving the sands of Egypt into the Greek god’s eyes. Ares cursed and swung his sword, but the particles of Set’s body bounced away and around it, taking no damage.

“Coward! Show yourself!” Ares sputtered and coughed, but Set was done with him. He withdrew across the courtyard to wait for his armies to break through the inner walls.

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“Did you actually see them fight?”

A cluster of servants stood gossiping in the kitchen of the fortress. One of them, a burly man who slaughtered cattle and hogs, had been outside when Set dared to confront Ares. He’d seen it all, which had given him a bit of celebrity among the other slaves who rarely had the chance to venture far from the ovens.

“I did,” he said proudly. “It all started when Set told Ares to give up some woman named Aavi. That was news to me. I thought this was all about the monster. Of course, that Egyptian dog wanted that too, but the way he talked about this girl made her sound far more important.”

The slaves marveled at his story and asked each other if anyone had seen this girl. Soon Aavi’s name was being passed from servant to guard to priest as the tale of Sets’ and Ares’ argument was spread throughout the fort. Speculation began to run rampant about the true cause of the war. Rumors about Aavi began to take on a life of their own. D’Molay would have been incensed had he heard some of them, but he was far too busy to notice the whispers.

As the sun abandoned the sky, D’Molay ran across the courtyard and up the battlement stairs to join Kastor and his men on the southern ramparts. From the high landing he could see vague shapes within the forest milling about scattered campfires. It was impossible to determine how many were encamped or the type of enemy that lay in wait.

“Glad you could make it, D’Molay,” Kastor said, joining him with a gesture toward the woods.
 
“We saw the enemy settle out there a few hours ago. Eros and Zephyrus got a look at them. Most are crocodile men and the usual rotting abominations one trips over in Egyptos.” Kastor spit over the ramparts to emphasize his disgust.

“Egyptos?” D’Molay blurted out. There was no doubt now. Set was here to get Aavi, the beast, or both. D’Molay covered his panic with a derisive remark against the gods of the Nile. “I’m happy to help you be rid of them. I need to break in my new bow.” He flourished the weapon he’d bought from Sophia the Amazonian blacksmith.
 

“It won’t be so shiny and new after tonight, I wager.” Kastor took a step back and gave D’Molay an appraising look. “You don’t look half-bad in that armor we got you.”

“Yes. It may come in handy as well,” D’Molay added with a grim smile. “Any news of the Mayans?”
 

“At least a dozen of their rafts landed on the other side of that hill, out of our range,” Kastor said, pointing off to the east. “And if that’s not bad enough, Hercules intercepted and killed another giant creature further off to the north. There were more of them, but they burrowed into the ground and escaped. We don’t know what pantheon they’re from, but they aren’t Mayan or Egyptos.
 
So we’re now surrounded on three sides. Four, if you count under our feet.” He paused to let the news sink in. “Come, we can join the rest of my men.”
  

Kastor led D’Molay along the ramparts to the southwest corner of the fort.
 
As they walked along, the archers and spearmen standing at the ready saluted Kastor.
 
“I’ve been promoted, I’m a lokhagos now, with almost a hundred men under my command,” he told D’Molay proudly. D’Molay recognized a good number of the men they passed as ones present during the capture of the beast. He nodded in acknowledgement to those who met his gaze.
 
Kastor finally stopped where there was a gap between the men.
 
“This is our station. You’re beside me.” D’Molay moved in to fill the space, resting his bow on the rampart.