CITY OF THE GODS: FORGOTTEN (27 page)

His sturdy boots gave him traction that the dryads’ tiny feet lacked. D’Molay was able to stop himself before he ended up in the muddy waters of the river, but the dryads were not so lucky. Three of them cried out in terror to their sisters as the water began to sweep them downstream. D’Molay shouted out in anger as a dozen of the others put down their bows to affect a rescue.

“What are you doing? You forget the beast!”

Whether from the initial splashing and screaming of the unfortunate dryads or from D’Molay’s futile rebuke, the beast responded to the noise. Rising from the reeds, it towered over the dryads struggling to escape the current of the river. Arrows shot toward it from the hill, and D’Molay flinched as one nearly pierced his leg. Scrambling, he dislodged one soggy dryad who had grabbed his boot in her attempt to escape the water and floundered along the mucky bank to get out of the path of the arrows.

Roaring, the beast took to the water, its many legs paddling it swiftly and surely across the deep central channel toward D’Molay’s side of the river. Rather than be driven in the desired direction by the archers, it had chosen to reverse and attack. D’Molay spun around to face the death that was heading straight for him, scrabbling for the knife that hung at his belt. The monster’s jaw gaped open as it drew near. It had found a tasty treat among its foes: a man.

D’Molay’s heart was leaden in his chest. This was the end, and he had failed to find Aavi. That pain cut him more than the bite he anticipated from the teeth of the beast. It lunged, aiming to snap off the hand that had just pulled the ridiculously inadequate knife from its sheath. The beast’s snout hammered D’Molay and flipped him helplessly onto his back. The tracker was stunned and could do nothing but wait to die. The monster’s jaw darted in to disembowel. D’Molay sucked in his gut as he took what he we sure was his last breath.

There came a sudden rush of wind and a deafening clap of thunder. The tongue that was raking up his thigh suddenly drew back as Zephyrus stung it with a shot of electricity from his ring. The creature’s head whipped up, snapping at the Wind, as Eros darted in and grabbed D’Molay, flying him many yards away. When Eros set him down, D’Molay staggered sideways, leaving safe solid ground and sinking knee deep in sucking mud as his right foot chose a very bad place to step. D’Molay threw his hands out to stop his plunge, but the precaution proved to be unnecessary as Eros grabbed him by the collar and hauled him back.

“Not the time for swimming, Tracker,” he said as he lifted him easily from the river muck. “You don’t have the strength for it.”

D’Molay gasped out his thanks while peering with great concern at the unfolding confrontation. The beast had moved away from the river after the foolish dryads had pursued it down the hill rather than holding the high ground and firing at range. Zephyrus rejoined them, wincing as the sound of dryad bodies cracking under the feet and jaws of the beast cut through the air.

“What do you think, Eros? Should we join in?”

Eros’s eyes had darkened, and his body was taut. The primal fury of the beast and the soul-wrenching cries of the falling dryads were feeding his godhood. Lusts of all kinds fueled Eros’s power, and like it or not, the battle was drawing him in. Eros inwardly cursed his grandfather. Zeus was crafty. He knew that Eros was a powerful weapon when engaged, and the simple placement of him in the battle might tip the odds in favor of the Greek side. In answer to Zeph’s question, Eros uttered a piercing cry and sped down the hill, past several fleeing dryads to the ground where Ares’ soldiers had finally ringed the monster. The Wind hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should stay and guard D’Molay.

“Help them,” D’Molay urged as Zephyrus hesitated. “Go!”

Zephyrus grinned. “Can I borrow your knife?”

A strong gust of air sucked the weapon from D’Molay’s hand into the Wind’s. Then Zephyrus chased after Eros like a younger brother left behind. His human guise was betrayed as his feet bounced lightly across the water to carry him to battle. Once across the river, he assumed the form of air and D’Molay lost track of him.

Now D’Molay could only watch as the beast faced off with the soldiers and the two gods. The monster found Ares’ men more formidable than the easily panicked dryads. While creatures were not their usual opponents, the soldiers trusted that any kind of flesh would give way to their sharp blades. As they ringed the beast, they slashed at its many legs. Spurts of amber blood sprang from the cuts but quickly clotted to an oozing sap. The beast charged three men directly before it, crushing one in its jaws before Eros swooped in quickly to distract it. It snapped its jaws upwards, giving the cornered men an opening for flight. Eros deftly evaded, hovering just out of reach to keep the beast’s attention as the soldiers regrouped.

“Watch me go for a ride,” Zephyrus announced as he arrived in the air next to Eros. He made the boast in his storm form, but to Eros’ horror he changed to human guise as he dropped astride the creature. “How do you like the wind at your back?” Zephyrus exclaimed, D’Molay’s knife poised for a strike.

Zephyrus drove the knife into the back of the thing’s neck. The beast responded with a deafening roar and began to buck. Zephyrus felt himself start to slip. He held tightly to the knife imbedded in the rough, hairy hide as the beast tried to shake him off.

“Zephyrus!” Eros shouted. “What are you doing? Change and get away!”

The beast reared. Zephyrus lost his grip and fell bouncing off the flank of the creature. Several legs kicked him soundly aside and he came to rest unmoving atop a patch of sedge. Eros gave the creature a wide berth and hauled Zephyrus to safety as the soldiers, determined to complete their mission, prepared to charge again.

“Nets, ready!” the commander shouted. The sailors, who had been huddled in a clump out of range of injury, split into two groups that ran in opposite directions to stretch their mesh trap the length of the beast. Then all the soldiers raced the foe from one side to drive it straight into the net. The cost was great. Over half the Aresians fell in the attempt, including the bellowing commander. But two of the swordsmen managed to find sensitive spots on the beast’s underbelly that it scrambled blindly to protect. The net men seized their opportunity and with a coordinated heave enveloped the creature in Poseidon’s unbreakable skein.

D’Molay was skeptical that a mere net could hold the beast. But as the creature thrashed and rolled, the net seemed to contract more tightly. Clearly it was of godly origin, designed to exhaust its catch. Considering its oceanic source, it was probably designed to hold fast the great leviathans of the deep, making it more than sufficient to control a land animal, monstrous or not. Soon the beast had no strength left to struggle. It lay still, breathing heavily. D’Molay waited for the killing blow which oddly did not come. Instead, barked commands by a man who had stepped in to take the fallen commander’s place sent a solder on a run toward Ares’ Fort.

Why he did this, D’Molay did not care. He was so weak and ill he wanted to close his eyes and die, even if dying meant that he would never know where strange things like the beast and beautiful things like Aavi had come from. They were like two different coins thrown together into a fountain, the hand of their owner forever unknown.

At the very instant this thought crossed his mind, D’Molay felt like a refreshing bucket of cold water had washed his burning agony away. Blinking dumbly, a happy grin on his face, he sat up. The curse was leaving him, and there was only one possible reason why.

“They came here together,” he shouted, jumping to his feet. From another hillside, Eros looked up at him briefly before resuming his efforts to rouse Zephyrus. As far as he was concerned, his duty to the strange human was finished, but that did not stop the man from blabbering on as he ran over to the gods. “The beast is a clue toward finding Aavi,” D’Molay continued exuberantly. “The curse won’t hurt me as long as I’m on the right quest.” Eros, lost as to what the man was saying, muttered something vaguely supportive as he lifted Zeph’s eyelid and peered at his eyeballs, currently rolled back up into his head. That damn Chinese bird apparently had known what it was talking about.

“I have to find out more!” D’Molay said as he turned away from the disinterested god. He quickly moved to join the soldiers. They had captured the creature alive, and D’Molay was determined to keep it that way until he learned all he could from it.

“Zeus will be pleased,” said the soldier who had taken command as D’Molay approached. “He will reward all of us after we see this creature to its pen.”

“I’m with you to the end,” D’Molay pledged, his voice regaining its light, bantering tone. He would ride this adventure out, observing all and turning any favor Zeus might bestow toward fulfilling his two quests. He hoped that Mazu was experiencing as much fortune in her efforts, and that Aavi, for the time being, was somewhere safe. “Where will you take it?”

“To our god, Ares. He has prepared a prison for it,” the man said as their conversation was suddenly interrupted by some raucous singing. “Come, Tracker. Those netters have found something to drink.”

The Greek and D’Molay walked over to the sailors. They were enjoying a crate of ale that had floated up to the river’s edge courtesy of an unseen but satisfied Poseidon. The shanty they’d begun to sing blended with the rattling dirge of the mourning dryads who were somberly gathering their shattered dead, piling their woody bodies and lighting a funeral pyre. However, neither sound was loud enough to drown out the labored breathing and intermittent moans of the wounded beast. D’Molay focused on the captive monster, seeking any clues that might link it to Aavi.

“I’ve never seen the like of it before,” the Greek commented as he confiscated a jug of ale to share with D’Molay. He held out his beefy, calloused hand. “I’m Kastor.” D’Molay grasped his forearm strongly and Kastor grinned at him, white teeth jumping out brightly from his dirty face. “You have a firm grip. I thought you were sickly.”

“Somehow I feel better now that the battle is over.”

“As do I,” Kastor laughed heartily. “By Hera’s tits, what is that thing? I’ve seen some monsters in my day, but . . .” The man trailed off, lacking words to express his amazement. Then he shrugged. “No matter. We caught it. What happens to it now is up to the gods.”

D’Molay hummed in companionable agreement. “Still, I wonder where it came from. I wonder if it can speak?” he inquired lightly. His mind was racing. What did the Greeks and their gods know that could help him find Aavi?

Kastor chuckled. “If it could, what it would say to us right now would scald your ears. I made the mistake of conversing with a wounded harpy once. Its tongue was sharper than my spatha.” Kastor pulled the blade from his scabbard and began to hone it as he sat down by D’Molay. “That’s why I tell my children never to talk to monsters.”

“Children?” D’Molay was a bit surprised to hear that the soldier had a family. “Boys or girls?” he added quickly, to prevent the amiable Kastor from being offended by any of his assumptions.

“Four boys, only one girl. The wife has been good in that respect. How about you? How many sons have you fathered?”

“Not a one,” D’Molay admitted. He was about to explain that a tracker’s work made a home life impractical when the sound of marching feet and rolling wheels intruded upon the camp.

“Herikos is back,” Kastor announced, rising. The other soldier rolled toward them, driving a large team of yoked oxen pulling a sturdy flatbed cart. Twenty more of Ares’ men jogged alongside, fresh and ready for the task of hauling the catch onto its transport. Kastor joined his strength to theirs as they took hold of the net around the beast and began to drag it aboard. D’Molay was not asked to help, and personally had no intention of volunteering for the dirty, hard work. The monster grunted and mewled to itself as it suffered the indignity and pain of being loaded. After it was finally upon the flatbed and secured to it with sturdy chains, Kastor climbed up to join Herikos on the driver’s bench.

“Tracker, come ride with us,” he offered. D’Molay declined.

“And sit with my back to that thing? I think not,” he said. The Greeks joked at his fear, especially the new arrivals that had not seen the monster in action. Unmoved by their mockery, D’Molay simply put one foot in front of the other and set off down the road to the fort. If it got loose, he might live long enough to have the last laugh. He walked at a brisk pace, enjoying the return of his strength and vigor and treasuring the new hope that he was on the right path to find Aavi.