CITY OF THE GODS: FORGOTTEN (22 page)

Eros objected. “This isn’t Olympus where we can come and go as we please. Breaking locks is against City law.”

“I don’t need to break the lock. Every house has some crack open to the winds. We have a standing invitation.” Zephyrus took a few steps back from the building to examine the overhanging eaves. Seeing what he had hoped for, a gap where the shingles met one end of the roof ridge, he changed to his cloud form. Floating up to the opening, he slowly seeped into the house. A minute or two later Eros heard the latch scrape free from the inside. The door swung inward to reveal Zephyrus, back in his flesh-and-blood guise.

“I’m impressed,” Eros said begrudgingly, thinking of many instances where an ability to gain secret entry would have given him easier access to his own targets. Sometimes Zephyrus’s blunt ways made Eros forget he did have his talents. “But let’s not linger. Search quickly.” Eros moved into the house, leaving the door open to let in the light.

Each god chose one side of the small house to search. Eros carefully examined the items on the tracker’s kitchen table and around his hearth, touching nothing but judging all with a keen eye. Zephyrus, by contrast, was more hands on. He emerged from D’Molay’s sleeping chamber carrying two heavy garments and a collection of hats and gloves.

“He didn’t take his winter clothes,” Zeph commented. “So he probably didn’t go to the Cold Realms. What have you found?”

Eros squatted by the cold ashes of D’Molay’s cooking fire. “They say the hearth is the heart of a house. I know a little bit about hearts.”

Zephyrus watched as Eros held a hand out over the sooty bricks, concentrating. He was about to ask what Eros was doing when the sound of a man clearing his throat distracted him. A tradesman stood in the open doorway, goggling at Eros’s naked backside.

“You must be D’Molay,” the tradesman said, turning his eyes to Zephyrus and the clothing in his hands. “I can tell by your fine assortment of traveling attire.” This judgment was punctuated by a sniff of disapproval directed at the other god’s nudity. The insult was completely ignored by Eros, however, who was still intent on whatever he was doing at the hearth.

“I . . . what do you want?” Zephyrus stalled, letting the man’s assumption stand.

“The cart broker engaged me to return your overpayment. He has a new clerk, who made an error when you rented the cart for your trip to Mazu’s Ferry.” He presented the god with a small pouch, which Zephyrus held awkwardly for a moment before dropping it into a pocket of one of the cloaks.

“Mazu’s Ferry. Right, thanks a lot,” Zephyrus grinned, as the man’s words slowly sunk in.

“My pleasure,” the tradesman nodded, lingering. He hooked his thumbs into the deep loops that supported the wide belt at his waist, both index fingers pointing down toward the pockets in the skirt of his smock to hint for a tip. Eros chose this moment to stand up and turn to face the man in his full bare glory. Mortified by the keen arousal that surged through him at the sight of the love god, the man abandoned his quest for lucre and made a hasty exit.

“How about that? He just told us where D’Molay’s been,” Zephyrus said, dumping the cloaks on a nearby chair. Eros held out his hand, displaying something he’d gleaned from the hearth.

“And this will point the way to where he is now.”

All Zephyrus could see on Eros’s palm was a melted gray lump. “If you say so. What is it?”

“It was something he loved once.” Eros carefully tucked the fragment in his left wing, a group of feathers cupping to provide a tiny pocket. “Humans sometimes pour their feelings into objects. Those emotions, loving or hateful, create a link to their source.”

“Ah, I get it. You can track the tracker.”

“To some extent. But first we have to get much closer to him, so off to Mazu’s Ferry we go.”

They flew to the lakeside, but discovered that Mazu and her boat were nowhere to be found. A simple flag pinned to a post signified the ferry was in transit. No destination was specified.

“What is it with these City folk?” Zephyrus complained. “Is there a law here that makes them work endlessly?”

“Maybe they like being busy,” Eros countered. “Some don’t value leisure as much as we Olympians.”

“Free as the wind, that’s my motto,” Zephyrus maintained. “Where to now?”

Eros reached over his shoulder and retrieved the lump of pewter. He kept his fist tightly closed around it as he gazed out over the water, only his head moving as he surveyed the horizon from right to left. “That way. The metal grows warm when I focus on that far shore.”

A moment later, Eros took wing and Zephyrus blew out of the City after him. Boatmen in the waters below cursed and struggled with their sails as the Greek gods sped over their boats, Zephyrus’s trajectory causing the air and waves to shift, blowing everything on the water toward the Asian Realm. Eros did not notice the chaos below. His concentration was fixed on the item in his hand, its growing heat guiding him to land on a narrow shore where sand was slowly losing the battle against the advance of an immense bamboo forest. Joining him, Zephyrus gazed in wonder at the thick, tall wall of green facing them.

“We’ll be walking,” he sighed. “Can’t see shit from the air through that.”

“Look for a path,” Eros suggested, and after casting up and down the shoreline for a few minutes he found a narrow trail snaking into the bamboo. He whistled to Zephyrus, and led the way as they moved into this new, strange land.

The path zigzagged. The towering stalks of bamboo induced doubt and claustrophobia.

“Are we going the right way?” Zephyrus asked nervously. Eros grunted. The pewter was cycling hot and cold as each bend of the path drew them in a different direction. As they curved around a great rock, the path widened. Now the friends were able to walk side by side, which made them feel a bit less apprehensive, even though odd noises around them made it clear that they weren’t alone. Zephyrus, accustomed to having a bird’s eye view of everything, hated that he couldn’t pinpoint what was making the sounds. He subconsciously eased closer to Eros’ side, not realizing his proximity until wing feathers began to tickle his arm. When a cacophony of sudden screeches and a huge shadow engulfed them, he practically jumped into Eros’ arms. Eros reflexively embraced him as a giant bird circled above them.

Brutally strong wing flaps bent and broke the stalks, showering the Greeks with bamboo shards. Great scaled legs with massive talons kicked over part of the forest as a black, red, white, green and yellow feathered body blotted out the sky. First one sharp-beaked head pecked down threateningly at the Greeks, then another, and a third.

“Nine!” gasped Zephyrus. “It’s got nine heads!” Panicked, he began to shift into his storm aspect. Eros quickly gave him a jolt of love to calm him down. He had enough presence of thought to realize that attacking the bird with lightning would not end well for them. Zephyrus slumped limply against his side as several of the bird’s heads eyed them suspiciously.

“Visitors,” one head squawked. “Trespassers,” another opined. “Breakfast,” chirped a third. Each head had a different voice, some masculine, some feminine; some melodic, others harsh. “What flavor of god are you?” a sleepy-looking head on the far right asked.

“Olympian,” Eros said, “on a mission from the Council. Are you the guardian of this realm?”

The monster fluttered its feathers and puffed out the plumage on its breast. “I guard nothing. Those who see me are headed for trouble. Take a good look while you still have your eyes,” every head said in unison. Clearly this was a familiar and frequently given speech.

Zephyrus pulled away from Eros, suddenly embarrassed, as the love spell waned. “Headed for trouble? This gets worse?”

The bird’s heads chattered mockingly in a barrage of squawks, warbles and beak clicks. “We are a bad omen, and we made you look!” a head with a childlike voice informed them.

“May we pass?” Eros asked carefully. He had trouble discerning the intent of the bird. It had several hearts, though not as many as it had heads. Each heart seemed to thrum with a different emotion.

“Do as you please,” the central head grumbled. “Now that we’ve met, your fates are sealed.”

Eros gripped the fragment that guided them and took a step closer to the bird. The gray lump maintained its warmth. Another step brought more warmth to his hand, confirming that their path lay right past the blocking bird. Eros pressed on, step by step. He didn’t look back, but he felt Zephyrus walking after him. As they approached the nine-headed bird’s great legs, the talons flexed and the bird lifted its body, the two legs providing an archway through which the gods could pass. A few more strides brought them directly under the bird’s multicolored tail.

“This thing is going to s-shit on us,” Zephyrus hissed into Eros’s ear. Fortunately Zephyrus did not have the gift of prophecy.

The duo increased the speed of their steps, emerging on the other side of the bird without further consequence. Zephyrus kept moving, but Eros paused to look back, exhaling in relief. The bird had hunkered back down on the forest floor, heads pecking at various unseen tidbits. It was now completely uninterested in them. Although they had not been hurt, Eros had a terrible feeling that the creature’s visit truly did predict evil to come. He hurried to catch up with Zephyrus, who was blundering on through the bamboo without the guidance of the pewter artifact.

“Wait. That’s the wrong way,” Eros said, steering his friend back on course. The trail they took left the bamboo and led through an area of thinning trees to a large expanse of cleared land at the base of some rocky cliffs. There were neatly sown crops in the fields, but no sign of farmers to tend them. All things seemed to be growing without the efforts of human servants. Eros suspected this land belonged to and was cared for by one of the realm’s gods, which meant they were probably trespassing. Perhaps that was the trouble the bird was warning about. But they were not challenged as they moved through the fields, the lump leading them onward.

“Can we fly now?” Zephyrus asked, looking up with hope at the open sky.

“No. We’re getting too close.” Eros opened his hand, showing Zephyrus where his palm was growing pink from the pewter’s insistent heat. He shifted the fragment to his other hand, and Zephyrus helpfully blew a cold breath over the Eros’s hot flesh. They continued on, skirting the base of the rising cliffs.

“I smell a cooking fire,” Zephyrus announced a few minutes further into their journey. “Maybe D’Molay stopped to eat.”

“You’re right.” Eros pointed. In the shelter of a grove of cherry trees, two figures rested.

Mazu took a sip from the cup of stew that D’Molay had cooked for their meal. He had made it from a snared rabbit, some roots scrounged from the earth, a bit of wine mixed with her special water, and a sprinkle of spices he carried in a small chambered box. To the goddess, it tasted quite foul. She was glad that the sudden arrival of unexpected gods gave her a polite excuse to set her cup aside.

“You aren’t the only stranger in the realm today,” she alerted D’Molay. Looking up from his food, he saw the two male gods heading toward them.

“Do you know them?” he asked warily. Mazu shook her head. As they came closer, D’Molay guessed from the clothed one’s style that he was probably an Olympian. Neither carried a weapon, but that was no guarantee of safety, especially if they were gods. The other’s nudity reminded him of the state in which he had found Aavi. He was beginning to despair of ever tracking her down.

“Greetings,” the naked one said. “You are the tracker, D’Molay?”

D’Molay nodded. “And you are?”

“Eros. And Zephyrus. Olympians with a message from the Council.” Zephyrus immediately left the negotiations to Eros and made himself at home, poking a finger into the cook pot for a taste and winking at Mazu.

“Please. Enjoy,” the amused old goddess said, passing her unwanted cup to the Wind.

“What does the Council want with me?” D’Molay did not like the sound of this. Whatever need the Council had must wait. He had to find Aavi.

Eros, careful not to let D’Molay see the relic he had filched, tucked it back into his wing feathers. “A beast is loose in our realms. It has devastated two temple complexes and killed many.”