CITY OF THE GODS: FORGOTTEN (45 page)

“Wha . . . what are you doing?
 
You’re crazy! I told you!” the Mayan protested, starting to struggle a bit.

D’Molay pushed the machete harder against the man’s chin and a trickle of blood appeared. “Yes, I am crazy, so you’d better answer me - now!” he bellowed at the Mayan.

Aavi had a total look of panic on her face. Despite the stories D’Molay had told her about his violent adventures, she had never actually seen him hurt anyone or even act so forcefully. She was overwhelmed emotionally and stood frozen in place like a startled deer. This brutality from someone she trusted reminded her of what Kafele had done to her just yesterday.
 
She had trusted him too.

D’Molay glanced up at Aavi and gave her orders which he hoped she would follow without pause or question. “Turn around, go outside and wait for me. I’ll be right there. Go!”
 
She paused for just a second and then slowly, without a word, backed away and went to the door. She went outside and then collapsed on the outer walkway. D’Molay could see she her put her hands up to her face and begin to sob.

It was at that moment the Mayan decided to try his luck. He pulled his head back from the machete blade and managed to elbow D’Molay in the side of his face. Reeling back, D’Molay swung the blade, barely missing the top of the Mayan’s skull. Weaponless, the Mayan made a dash for the room from which he had come. Before he could get through the doorway, D’Molay struck him with the machete, leaving a brutal gash through his bicep and part of his forearm.

The wounded man stumbled back against the cubicles on the wall. Rolled up maps bounced from their containers and fell around him like dry leaves in autumn. D’Molay loomed over him holding the machete to the Mayan’s face. “Last chance. Why are you here? Who are you watching for?”

“I - I swear, no one!” the Mayan cried out.
 
“It’s just my job to keep an eye on the boathouse. I’m new here!”

D’Molay hesitated for a moment, wondering if his instincts had overruled his reason. Then he heard Aavi’s voice.

“He . . . he’s lying. I see it in his glow.” D’Molay resisted the urge to turn toward Aavi and rebuke her for creeping back into the boathouse. He kept the machete tight against the Mayan’s throat as she continued. “His glow has lots of green flashes in it. That’s what happens when people are lying.” Aavi had discovered to her disappointment that people seemed to lie all the time. Even D’Molay had lied to her.
 
She saw the green flashes so often that she had almost come to ignore them.

“Just watching the boathouse are you? Try again.”

The Mayan had looked up in dismay as Aavi had spoken. He seemed to know that his choice was to tell them what he knew or to die by his own weapon. “I was told to watch for a girl like yours by Lord Quetzalcoatl. I swear that is all I know!”
 

D’Molay gauged the look of terror and defeat etched on the man’s face. He had just betrayed a deity in an attempt to save his own life. D’Molay suspected the man was more afraid of how his gods would judge him than what the machete at his neck might do. D’Molay continued to stare at the man intently with a grim expression on his face. “Aavi, go back outside now.
 
I’ll be right out.”
 
It was the first time he had called her by name since they had left the carriage.

“A - All right.” She was confused by his request, but decided that D’Molay always had good reasons for everything he asked of her. She walked out the door, her legs feeling shaky from the shock of seeing her protector’s violence and anger, not to mention the blood flowing from the man’s chin. It reminded Aavi too much of what had happened to her yesterday.

She leaned against the black railing and watched the fish swimming in the shallow water around the dock as a light breeze flipped her hair across her face.
 
Some of the fish darted away as tears fell from her eyes and made little ripples in the smooth waters of the lake. She tried not to think about people being beaten or hurt, but horrific images of Set and his tortures flashed through her mind.
 

As soon as Aavi was outside, D’Molay slit the throat of the Mayan. The Freeman stepped away from the gore as blood showered the dying man. Wasting no more time on him, D’Molay immediately checked the rest of the building for other enemies. He entered the small office where an oriental man calmly sat in a deck chair by the window overlooking the docks.
 
D’Molay immediately took a defensive posture, but then realized this man was dead, his throat also slit, a cascade of dark blood staining his neck and his shirt. D’Molay coldly smirked at the justice of the Mayan receiving the same fate he had dealt to this innocent bystander. This man had likely been the dock manager and probably had asked the Mayan too many questions. D’Molay resolved to leave the scene before anyone decided to question him.

He went back into the main room and carefully put the machete back in the hands of the dead Mayan. Noticing some bloody footprints, he found a rag and wiped them away, working his way to the exit. D’Molay hoped to make it look like only the dock manager and the Mayan man had been there. He would tell Mazu the truth as soon as he could. D’Molay picked up his cloak and put it back on, hiding some bloodstains on his shirt and vest.

Aavi heard the door behind her open and turned around to see D’Molay emerge. He had an odd expression on his face that she had not seen before. He seemed somehow sad, upset and drained. What really caught her attention was the glow she saw within him. It was a strange, swirling mix of dark purples and deep reds. She had never seen colors like that before. She wasn’t sure what it meant, but it scared her.
 
Aavi stepped towards him, concern on her face.

He looked at her wearily. “Come on. We need to leave.”
  

They walked quickly back to the carriage in complete silence. D’Molay gave the coachman a few more coins. “Take us to the west docks,” he told the man.

For a few minutes, neither of them said a word.
 
D’Molay seemed to be brooding and in deep thought, rubbing his chin and occasionally glancing out the closed window. Aavi could no longer resist the urge to question him. “What about the man in the boathouse?
 
Did he tell you anything else?”

D’Molay looked out the window again as he answered. “No. No, he didn’t. You don’t need to worry about him now, Aavi. I guess we should decide what we are going to do next,” he said, trying to change the subject.

“But what happened to him?” she asked.

D’Molay sought to choose his words carefully to reduce her concern. “I sent him to the afterworld, to Purgatory, Aavi. Now he can’t follow us or tell anyone he saw us. It was the only way to make sure we’d stay out of reach of whoever is looking for us.” He tried to make his killing of the Mayan as pleasant as he could for her. D’Molay knew that lying to her would be fruitless, so he hoped this would suffice. Nothing he had just told her was a lie.
 
After seeing her reaction to his grabbing and beating the Mayan, he was certain that if he revealed that he had deftly slit the Mayan’s throat and left his still twitching corpse behind the counter, it would be more than she could bear in her current state.
 

“You sent him away? How?” Aavi asked him. She didn’t know he had any powers like that. Then she looked at his glow, but didn’t see any green in it save the occasional flicker that everyone seemed to have all the time. Then she put all the pieces together and realized he had done something far worse. “You, you killed him, didn’t you?
 
Just like what Set was going to do to me!
 
Oh no, no!”
 
Aavi folded herself into a fetal position, sobbing and shaking as she hid her face in the corner of the carriage. D’Molay clenched his jaw in frustration.

Despite all his efforts, she had reacted just as he had feared. He was apparently correct that exposing Aavi to the harsher side of life so soon after her tortures might be more than she could handle. But he had little choice. They were being pursued and they had to stay on the move. The Mayan’s presence at the boathouse proved that fact. D’Molay put his hand on her shoulder.

“Aavi, I’m so sorry. I should have warned you what might happen, but I was trying to protect you. That man was a danger to us, and I did what I had to.”

Aavi was still crying as she turned back to look at him. “B-but you killed him. How could you do that to another person?
 
To cut them and hit them ‘til they die!
 
I thought only evil people did things like that.”
 
Tears streamed down her face as she looked up at him.

“I know it’s hard to understand, but sometimes good people have to do bad things to protect against greater evils. I’m not any different than when you first met me. I’ve always had to fight the strong to protect the meek - it’s what I do. I promise, when we have more time, I’ll explain it to you.”
 
He squeezed her shoulder gently.

She stared at him, pain and sorrow etched across her face.
 
“I don’t want you to explain it to me; just, just don’t do it again. Please. Especially not for me. Don’t you see? You killed him because of me! I don’t want to be the cause of anyone’s death.
 
Let me die instead!” Aavi put her head back down and wept, hiding her face.

D’Molay could say nothing to console her. He wrapped his arm around her as the coach rolled toward the west docks and gently kissed her on the side of her head. She had no idea that she was asking him to do something that was against his very nature. He was a protector of the weak. He had been a crusader for travelers most of his life on Earth and now he was doing the same for Aavi, whether she wanted it or not.

*
       
*
       
*

It was mid-day when they arrived.
 
The docks of the west were larger and busier than the more pastoral North Docks and the architecture was more Greek and Roman in style, with long ionic-columned buildings and white stucco warehouses with red tile roofs. Unlike the tree and grass covered shores of the north, here cobblestone paths and small retaining walls lined the shore. With just a glance, one could see Greek trading boats, Viking warships, Egyptian luxury barges, Hindu fishing trawlers and innumerable ships of every size and type.
 
These docks were devoted to commerce, both legitimate and illicit.

During the ride around the outer edge of the City along the coast, Aavi had slowly emerged from her cocoon of fear and sorrow. She peeked out the window of the carriage from time to time, looking at the sights as they rode along. D’Molay would have preferred that she keep her head down in case someone recognized them, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her to stop.
 
At least the view had given her something to focus on besides his necessary violence and the tortures she had endured in the prison.

Aavi pointed at a huge statue that overlooked the docks. It faced the lake in the direction of the Olympian Realm. “Is he the main god?” she asked.

“Certainly he’s the main god of the Greeks and Romans. He’s called Zeus. I think he likes to think he is the god of all the gods, but there are plenty of other gods who would dispute that claim. The Romans call him Jupiter, but he’s one and the same as Zeus.”

“So is there a main god?” Aavi asked curiously

D’Molay was silent for a moment as he thought about how he would answer that question.
 
“Long ago I believed there was, but if there is a one true god, he cares little for us.
 
That much I do know.” He looked at the floor of the carriage as he answered, a hesitant shame, or perhaps a trace of resentment, in his voice.

Seeing that D’Molay was uncomfortable talking about the subject, she kept her next thoughts to herself. Did gods have a god? They have to come from somewhere, don’t they? But then where does that god come from? Just thinking about this made her head spin. Aavi wondered why D’Molay didn’t like talking about all this, and why the emptiness inside him seemed bigger. She measured the empty space in his heart and wondered what it might be.

D’Molay slid next to the window and poked his head out of the carriage. “Driver, take us to the shrine of Poseidon.”

“Aye, it’s just ahead on the right,” the man replied. He pulled on the reins to guide the horses aside. Half a moment later, they pulled up and stopped in front of Poseidon’s Shrine.

D’Molay paid the coachman and gave him a very nice tip. “I’d prefer you keep our travels to yourself.
 
We value our privacy.” He leaned in closer to the man. “I’m traveling with a woman who is betrothed to someone else and this is our last chance for a fling. You understand?”