CITY OF THE GODS: FORGOTTEN (9 page)

As she stepped out, the bulky robe brushed one of the plant pots and the chirping stopped. Aavi shed the restricting garment and knelt to peer among the leaves and flowers. Apparently this plant was able to make sounds, but it was silent now, no longer interested in talking to her. She poked at it a few more times before giving up and walking out into the courtyard. Aavi could still see Mazu’s signal lantern glowing through the treetops. But her fascination had not been with Nianzu’s device; she had actually been captivated by the bright round circle that had hung even higher in the sky. She was disappointed to discover that the white disc was no longer above and to the right of the lantern. Aavi squinted into the darkness, trying to find it again. If Nianzu had turned it off, she might still be able to find its dark outline. Yet she saw nothing, until a cloud moved and made the patch of ground on which she stood a bit lighter. Turning, Aavi shifted her eyes to another part of the sky and found the giant white lantern. It had moved, not gone out. She found it hanging just above a great hill. It would only be a short walk into the trees behind the cottages to climb the hill and get closer to it.

Once Aavi moved into the forest, however, she found it hard to keep her bearings. The tree canopy blocked out most of the sky and little light filtered down to guide her way. She had to trust the ground. She set her feet along the upward slope to be sure she was still moving toward the top of the rise. As she traveled, she heard more mysterious noises rustling and croaking. She ignored them, coming to the conclusion that plants were just noisy things in general.

She moved up and up. The trees thinned out and Aavi had to carefully climb around a rocky outcrop. The boulders were hard and cold like the streets of the City. Once past them, only short bushes remained to slow her way. Their stiff branches snagged her clothing and snapped at her when they broke as she pulled free.

“Be quiet.” she chided the plants. She wanted nothing to interrupt her vigil over the white light in the sky. There was something about its brightness that mesmerized her. Off in the distance, she heard a flapping sound and her shoulders instinctively hunched up as she yearned to fly up closer to the light. Barely a moment after this wish, something struck her hard in the back.

Aavi fell forward into the snapping bushes as a heavy weight pressed her down. Terrified, she struggled as strong fingers dug into the fabric of her robe and wormed under her armpits. She wrenched her head to one side and saw a huge leathery wing extending over her. A terrible sour smell wrinkled her nose as a hot breath spewed out guttural words.

“Caught by moon . . . pretty little bug,” the winged being said. Then Aavi felt her body yanked into the air as the creature labored to lift them both. She frantically kicked her legs, trying to get the thing to let her down, but it growled and its chin slammed into Aavi’s head. Her body suddenly went limp and the world below her receded into darkness.

Once he left Aavi, D’Molay rode back into the City of the Gods. It was mid-day and the streets were getting busier, with various minor gods, religious dignitaries, food vendors, slaves, and tradesmen making their way to work sites and temples. As he rode back along the tree-lined street, D’Molay gazed out at the great lake and recalled his upcoming task. He was supposed to pick up a package at the red cart curry vendor, near the Hindu temple’s main courtyard. That was off to the east. He’d need to go down Kali’s lane.

Traveling down some narrower, more winding streets lined with older buildings, he entered the Hindu district. Many parts of the City had great embassies or temple plazas devoted to the various pantheons of the gods. This district was one of the larger ones for there were many gods in its realm. The Egyptian section was probably next in size, with the Greco-Roman district a close third. After driving through the shaded streets of temples and monasteries, D’Molay brought his cart into a sunny open courtyard.
 
He saw the large red food cart across the courtyard along with about seven others set up in a semi-circle. The aroma of food stirred his stomach, which insistently reminded him he’d not eaten yet that day. He hopped out of the cart, tethered the horse to a nearby tree, and walked across the flagstone courtyard, passing the fountain in the center to reach the curry vendor. Weighing his meal choices from many tempting options, D’Molay untied his leather money bag from his belt.

The vendor he approached had a large covered horse-drawn cart that was styled like something from the old India on Earth. It was crimson, with Hindu gods of pleasure and happiness painted on the sides. The large yellow script on the top of the cart undoubtedly announced the name of the business or the type of food sold, but D’Molay could not read it. Most of the patrons probably couldn’t either, but the aromatic, spicy smell of the food cooking was far more effective advertising than any words.

A small woman dressed in a red sari stood at a large round opening in the center of the cart where orders were placed. She smiled politely at D’Molay.
 
“Can I help you today, sir?”

“Yes, hello. A friend told me your curry came with ‘special ingredients,’ so I’ll have a bowl,” D’Molay said casually as he opened his money pouch. He hoped this was the right cart and the right girl, and that his subtle request for the package would be understood.

The woman looked back at him with large dark eyes and nodded slightly. She smiled slyly as she said, “That will be a half silver, sir,” and held out her hand.
 
He paid her and she disappeared into the back of the cart. A moment later she returned with a wooden bowl, a spoon and a small box. The box was of an ornately carved dark wood about two inches in diameter. “Here you are. I included some extra spices for you.” She smiled at him again, then turned away to get an order from the next customer.
 
    

D’Molay picked up the items in one fluid movement and returned to his cart. As he leaned back and ate from the bowl, he surveyed the courtyard, alert for anyone who might have been watching the food cart, or watching him. He noted nothing unusual and relaxed until a girl with a round face and short black hair approached him. She was wearing a simple dark green tunic and matching pants. D’Molay continued to eat, although mentally he was prepared to fight in case she had an attack in mind. She might be a rival engaged to steal the package he had just obtained. Then he realized she had an entirely different task as he watched her bend down and pick up a discarded wooden bowl that belonged to one of the courtyard vendors.
 

D’Molay had to chuckle at his own paranoia. But the innocent outcome did not entirely disperse the slight feeling of apprehension that dogged him. Over the many years he had lived in the City of the Gods, D’Molay had gained an intuition about coming danger.
 
Unfortunately, it was never more than a vague awareness, so other than keeping him alert it wasn’t much help. He quickly finished his bowl of curry and then handed it to the young woman when she got close. It was time to move on.

Shortly after he rode out of district, D’Molay began to suspect that he was indeed being followed. For a moment he thought he saw a dark figure moving from doorway to doorway following in the shadows. His instincts had served him well in his long life, and he’d learned to rely on those inner feelings rather than dismissing them as his imagination. Turning a corner, he paused long enough to hide the box he’d been given under a gap below the bench seat. If anyone stopped him, they’d have some searching to do. He urged the horse forward.
  

D’Molay entered the center of the City, where the great library and massive Council buildings stood.
 
Monuments to fallen gods, beautiful fountains of living water, and open plazas were thronged with inhabitants come to worship, do business, or see the sites. Trying not to be distracted by the grandeur, D’Molay checked discreetly behind him to see if he could spot his pursuer again. He was unsuccessful.

He tried to make the horse go faster, but the crowds of people made it difficult to achieve more than a slight increase in pace. All he had to do was get to the Egyptian Temple complex without being intercepted. He risked another glance back, but it was not until he returned his eyes to the way ahead that he saw what he instantly recognized as his pursuer. Somehow it had gotten in front of him and was standing by a huge column devoted to Zeus. The man-shaped creature stood motionless, watching as the cart approached.

A dark green hooded cloak concealed some of its features from the curious. However, D’Molay could see dark grey skin with a hint of green that looked wet and glistened when the light hit it the right way. The creature’s arms had no bones and seemed to be just massive flexible muscles. Its bulbous head was larger than a normal man’s. Three orange eyes empty of pupils were stacked in a triangle shape, two where one might expect them to be and one located in the center of its forehead. The cloak covered it to the ground, but its movements seemed more like scuttling than running as it suddenly approached.

It had chosen the perfect spot to intercept the cart. There was no avoiding passing his pursuer short of stopping and trying to back up in the middle of the street. D’Molay whipped his horse, gambling that he might be able to rush by what lay in wait before it had a chance to act. But it was ready and charged forward, jumping like a spider into the back of the cart as it sped by.
 

D’Molay unsheathed his knife, ready to use it. He swung his arm back to slice at the creature, but he missed, slicing only empty air. He was immediately grabbed from behind and slammed onto the back of the cart. As he was pulled over onto his back the reins went with him, jerking the horse to a stop in the street. The knife fell from his hand and dropped into the front of the cart. The creature loomed over him as it stood on his shoulders, holding him down. It extended its tendrils.
 

“Giiiive meee boxxx.”

“What box?”

The creature flew into a rage, hitting D’Molay across the face as it screamed.
 
It was like being hit with a heavy knotted rope. The beating moved to his arms and torso, giving him bruises that would last for weeks. “Get boxxxx now!”

“Alright, alright!
 
I-I’ll get it!” D’Molay’s brain raced, trying to concoct a way to escape with the box if the creature allowed him an opening to retrieve it. He extended an aching arm toward the front of the cart as if he were actually reaching for the item.

Suddenly the entire cart was engulfed in a blue energy blast. It tipped violently to the left and shifted about eight feet to that side. Both D’Molay and the creature were sent sprawling to the pavement as the horse neighed loudly and staggered, tangled in its tack.

“Idiots! Get out of the way next time you play in the street!” A young boy-god in a golden horse-drawn carriage yelled at them, his head protruding from a side window.
 
His finger was still crackling with blue energy as his driver barreled on past. Several other carts and chariots quickly went by as the way had now been opened. Ignoring the ruckus, D’Molay scrambled for his knife which he spotted lying in the street only a few feet away. He grabbed it and jumped on the creature, which had fallen on its back. Its tentacles flailed like the legs of an upended bug.

“Who sent you?” D’Molay demanded, holding the knife at the creature’s throat as he knelt on one of its tentacles and pinned the other with his arm. “Answer!”

After a few seconds pause it finally replied. “S-Sssssetttt.”

D’Molay pondered this for a second. It made sense. Set was Egyptian, as was the rightful owner of the box D’Molay guarded. Perhaps Set wanted the item, though it was equally possible that this creature wanted the box for his own reasons.

“Set hired you, did he? Why you?”

“Alwaysss sssuccesss. I aasssssk no questionsssss.”

“I guess you were hired just like I was,” D’Molay said begrudgingly. On some level he felt empathy for his attacker, despite or perhaps even because of its inhuman appearance. “I should kill you, but what happens if I don’t?
 
Will you go back to whatever hole you crawled out of and leave me be?” D’Molay pressed the knife at the creatures’ throat as it stared at him with those soulless orange eyes.

“Leave . . . I leave . . . Yesssss,” it answered.
 

“Very well. I wasn’t planning to kill anyone today.” Withdrawing the knife from the creature, D’Molay stepped back, still wary of what it might do.

Slowly the grey man-thing rose, then backed away, preparing to move off. It turned as if to go, then suddenly swung one of its massive tentacles right at D’Molay’s head. It connected solidly, flinging D’Molay backward. He hit hard against the horse cart, falling to the ground. With the knife he had managed to hold on to as the creature had struck, D’Molay sliced off the end of a tendril. Black liquid gushed out of the wound. Unfazed, the misshapen creature rushed him. D’Molay tasted blood in his mouth as tentacles wrapped around his neck and lifted him off the ground. His arms dangled uselessly at his sides. His knife was still in his hand, but he was unable to use it. Held by his neck, his feet hanging inches off the ground, D’Molay stared in panic at the hideous grin on the creature’s face.