CITY OF THE GODS: FORGOTTEN (66 page)

Although he was a god of passion, Eros wasn’t feeling very affectionate toward Zeus or Ares. It was inconceivable that they had ordered him to locate and possibly confront an army in the sky. Zephyrus at least had some impressive battle abilities for the mission. Sometimes Eros wondered if Zeus or Ares really understood what his powers were, especially as he seemed to have been drafted for this task simply because he had wings.

Eros glanced over at Zephyrus, his companion in this dangerous undertaking. His friend was flying along with a huge smile on his face, as eager to seek out possible invaders as a young lover on his way to a secret rendezvous. Zeph’s anticipation was a matter of concern. Eros knew the wind would loose his powers at the slightest excuse just for the thrill of testing his strength against another being.

“Do you see anything yet?” Eros asked, hoping to head off any rash actions.

“I think an army carried by dragons would be pretty hard to miss,” Zeph said. “Stop worrying. If I see them, I’ll not going to yell ‘hey dragons, come eat us-sss,’ Ro.”

Zeph’s use of his shortened nickname gave Eros further pause. He always slid into more childlike speech when he was feeling carefree and safe - or drunk, a condition which Eros hadn’t even considered. He took a hard look at his friend, trying to size up his sobriety.

“What were you doing when Hermes found you?” Eros asked suspiciously, but before he got an answer a strange heat began to pulse deep within his wing. For a frightening second he thought he had been hit with something. He dove into a flying flip and roll, spinning around to look for anything that could have shot or bitten him. There was nothing in the sky other than Zephyrus, who was only then turning to see where Eros had gone.

“What are you doing?” Zephyrus called back. “C’mon, you chicken!” he taunted.

Eros flexed his shoulder and something shifted among his feathers. The familiar weight was a relief, for it reminded him of what must be causing the odd feeling. It was the lump of metal he had used to find the tracker days before. He had tucked it in his wing and forgotten about it. The blob was growing warm again, which could only mean that D’Molay must be somewhere near. Eros fished it out and was about to throw it away when he sensed an urgent surge of love connected to the token.

“I have to check something!” he yelled back to Zephyrus. He heard Zeph curse, but he waited while Eros tried to discern what the heated metal was communicating. There was love in the message, that was certain. The affection was desperate, but not carnal. It was pure, and it was afraid, and Eros would be denying his godhood if he failed to try and help such a powerful love prevail. He quickly flew to Zephyrus, resolving to trick his friend for the sake of expediency. A detour might even save their lives, under the circumstances. “Come with me! I just figured out where the dragons are,” he lied.

“Let’s go, then!” Zeph grinned. Eros led their flight, allowing the increasing heat of the metal lump to keep him on course. At his side, Zeph kept a sharp eye out for dragons, which Eros hoped to Hades weren’t really lurking in the woods they were approaching. His luck couldn’t be that bad, he thought ironically. As they skimmed the treetops, Zephyrus was the first to spot movement.

“Over there,” he said. Then he amended with disappointment, “Never mind. It’s just a girl who fell off a horse.” Nonetheless, Eros headed straight for them. “Why are we stopping here? I don’t see a dra- . . . wait a minute.” Comprehension slowly dawned and Zephyrus grew indignant at Eros’ divergence. He blew out an exasperated gust of wind as he followed.
 
“No love stuff, Eros!
 
We have orders from Zeus,” he yelled at his friend.

Eros felt the unfriendly wind at his back, which meant his annoyed companion was still following.
 
“Just stay with me,” he called back.

Letting the feelings emanating from the metal guide him to D’Molay, what Eros saw both sorrowed and enraptured him at the same time. The tracker was in trouble, sprawled akimbo on the ground, while his woman lay across him, feelings of lost love and grief radiating from her soul. It was as evident to the god’s senses as the sound of waves crashing upon the rocks. “Surely such tragic longing is the highest form love can take,” he thought, as he landed gracefully a few yards away.

“What has happened to D’Molay?” Eros said in his most soothing voice.

Aavi had not even heard the winged man land behind her. She turned, and saw him through tear-stained eyes. At first, she thought he was someone she knew, but the feeling quickly passed.
 
“You know D’Molay?” she asked meekly.

Eros could sense her fear, her sorrow and the love that she had for D’Molay, though that love seemed somehow incomplete. “Yes, surely he told you about me. I am the god Eros.” He smiled at her as though he were stating the obvious. Before she could answer, he asked her another question. “Do you have a name?”

“My name is Aavi, and we -”

She was interrupted as a strong gust of wind suddenly buffeted them. To Aavi’s eyes, the air collected in one spot and swirled into a cone of dust. In the center of the whirlwind a man appeared next to Eros. He was not as majestic as Eros, nor did he seem as kindly. “Are you done match-making yet?” he asked with his hands on his hips and the look of an angry judge on his face.

“Our Freeman, D’Molay, is wounded. Don’t you think Zeus might be annoyed if we let the Council’s task-taker die here in the road? We must lend aid to those who have aided us,” Eros said somewhat over-dramatically, strolling over to Aavi. He wasn’t certain of her age or status, but her youthful appearance and demeanor led him to believe she was no more than a girl.
 
As he quickly scanned her inner emotional state, his sense of her was pure and clear, like a fresh water spring. There seemed to be no nuance or baggage to her emotions as there were with virtually everyone else he met. “What happened to him?”
 

She looked up at him as tears started to flow once again. “He was hurt by a knife and then he started to fall off our horse. I couldn’t hold him and we both fell off and the horse ran away. I don’t know what to do now. I think he’s dying!”
 
She looked up at Eros desperately hoping against hope that he might be able to make it all better.

Eros leaned in and looked closely at the unconscious and battered man. He had the look of a mortal in the final hours of life. Eros rested his hand on D’Molay’s chest and felt a faint, but irregular heartbeat. “You speak true girl. He needs a healer as soon as possible.”

“What about our job? We don’t have time to find and fetch a healer,” Zephyrus interjected as he stood over D’Molay and Aavi, rolling his eyes in annoyance. He wanted to see dragons, now.

“I agree. So, we’ll take them with us to the Fortress.” Eros tried to reassure Aavi this was a good idea. “There are many healers there. They’ll know what to do with him. Gather your belongings, girl, and we’ll carry you both.”
 
Eros gave Zephyrus a look that said ‘don’t even think of arguing with me on this.’

“Y-you can?
 
You will?” Her face brightened as a glimmer of hope seared through the gloom and dread that had enveloped her completely. Quickly she grabbed their travel bag, the bow, and quiver of arrows. As she returned she caught a snippet of conversation.
 

“- last the rest of the day unless we get him there.”

“I’m ready to go,” she said, the bag in one hand and the bow and quiver in the other.

“Good. Now can we leave?” said Zephyrus as he paced impatiently back and forth.

Eros turned to face them. “I’ll carry the bow, quiver and D’Molay. Zeph, you carry her and that bag.” Eros slung the bow and quiver over his shoulder, resting it against the bottom of his upper wing. Then he bent down, picking up D’Molay, cradling him in his arms, like a child being carried to bed. He gracefully rose into the air, without the slightest hint of any effort on his part.

“Hold my hand tight. If you see any dragons hiding in the clouds, let me know,” Zephyrus said to Aavi.

Despite his odd comment about dragons, she took his hand and as they both rose off the ground and sailed off into the clear, blue sky. Aavi had the most joyous experience she could remember as the ground below passed quickly by, and she felt the wind in her hair.
 
“I’m flying!
 
And everything is going to be all right!”

*
       
*
       
*

The mood at Ares’ Fortress was not one of dread, even though all inside had by now heard the rumors about the deadly forces coming at them. After his audience with Zeus, Ares had immediately summoned the greatest demigods, generals, priests and heroes who served him to present his grand strategy. He even stretched his net to neglected Earth, scooping up some backward and violent leaders and their bands whose lust for conquest had come to his notice even though his worship on that sphere was long neglected. They were furious, perplexed, but perfect for his needs. The motivation of being returned to Earth with great riches to fund their lust for war reduced their indignation.

His loyal and tested Greek and Roman soldiers did not let the stories distract them from their preparations. They were no strangers to defensive situations, nor did they find the circumstance of being vastly outnumbered in any way new. Ares actually counted the fortress, the only point he fully controlled on what would be the plain of battle, the strongest advantage of any force. He had designed his keep with the mightiest defenses available and could match any siege weapon arrayed against him. Ares kept busy while waiting for an attack, visiting every line of defense to make sure his commanders were ready.

Unlike some gods who preferred to command from afar, Ares relished the opportunity to be directly involved in a conflict. An overall strategy was essential, but unit-based tactics were key to winning the day. Herikos suspected that Ares had some special trick in mind when his company was ordered to remove two of four metal gates that separated the outer courtyard of the fortress from the dungeon section where the beast was being held. The remaining two gates were to be left unlocked.

“It’s like he’s making it easy for them to get in,” Dolates remarked, as he and Herikos supervised the grunting men who were heaving the heavy hinge-pins out of their channels letting the gates sag unsecured.

“I think he wants it to look that way,” Herikos said. “Without doubt they will come straight for this opening if they breach the outer wall. But what then?”

Dolates considered the positioning of the other troops hidden in reserve behind the walls. Hundreds were stationed inside the fortress’s maze of dungeons. Another thousand were shielded at the back of the compound, out of sight, ready to charge around to the place where the gates were being left temptingly ajar. They could easily block the retreat of anything that might venture inside. “He’ll flank and encircle,” Dolates deduced.

“Right,” Herikos said. “And we are the bait on his hook.” The more seasoned soldier proclaimed this with pride, not sarcasm. This was the type of work that he relished, a prominent, death-defying task that if performed with bravery and honor could earn him a place in the epic heroic poems. “We must fight like desperate defenders. We cannot let them guess we are more like clever foxes leading the dogs over a cliff.” With a final heave, the last of the gates was removed by the men.

“Ready your shields and spears!”

Ares had appeared atop a nearby wall to shout at them, throwing his long shadow over Herikos and his company as he reminded them of their mission. “You must transform yourselves into a slowly moving blockade. Hinder, but do not hold their line. Protect each other as they push you back into the dungeon. When they are well past the last gate, break and flee into the pits.” Ares turned his face to the battlefield, listening. “It is almost time.”

As the Greeks watched, Ares transformed. Red-gold flames licked along his arms and legs, encasing them in bright armor that doubled their already gigantic proportions. His hair blazed next. Tongues of fire knit into a full helmet with the face of a horrifying fanged beast. Herikos could not tell if it was meant to be a lion, a wolf, a dragon, or all three unnaturally combined. Ares held out his right hand. The air shimmered with heat as an immense sword nestled its grip into Ares’ palm. As he turned to jump down off the wall to the outer side of the fortress, the air produced a terrifying scream as the immortal’s sword cut through it. Several of the soldiers clutched their ears and cringed at the sound. Herikos and Dolates stared at the spot their god had occupied on the wall with awe.