CITY OF THE GODS: FORGOTTEN

by Verne, M. Scott

  Zephyrus looked past Eros seeking any new scars on the landscape. He could see the crater and a strange trail that spiraled from it into the thick forests of Artemis. There was no great disturbance in the trees, no smoke, no avalanche or flood to indicate where a monster might be wallowing. Zephyrus made an impatient fist, the rings on his hand rubbing against one another to produce a crackle of lightning.

  “It wouldn’t be much of a hunt if we found it right away,” he said defensively. “But I see where its tracks lead, and you’ll be happy to hear that I can get a stick there.” Zephyrus pointed toward the great forest and the two gods began their descent.

  The trees in the great forest of Artemis stood proudly, their slender smooth trunks extending upward so far that most beings standing at their roots were unable to discern their heights. Rare creatures - golden deer, exotic reptiles with flecks of precious metals on their scales, birds with beautiful human faces - coexisted peacefully under the canopy. The dense edible groundcover of the wood provided all that any animal desired. Lush truffles fed gigantic boars with ebon tusks. The nourishing seeds of ever-ripe fruits, so peculiar in shape that they could only have come from some god’s whimsical dream, satisfied furry branch-dancers and all things that flew. For everything else, great founts of honey, dripping like slow-motion waterfalls, oozed from giant hives tended by massive swarms of tiny bees. All wildlife was under the protection of Artemis, and her influence prevented it from turning hungers on its many expressions or upon any being who stumbled unwittingly into her home.

  None of this was known to the great one who nestled in the underbrush. He was sleepy, his back hurt, and he was just glad he’d found a safe place to rest. His thoughts were confused, as if he kept waking repeatedly from a dream and falling asleep again without a chance to decide what was real and what was merely phantasm. It did not seem to matter, really. Despite his pain and weariness, he somehow knew that nothing would hurt him here. It was as if the friendly forest had called out for him, wanted him to come.

  A small silver snake with yellow eyes zigzagged toward his face. It reared up, its head a mere breath’s reach from his snout, thin black tongue flicking in and out. Curiosity satisfied, it moved toward one of his many limbs and disappeared under the arch of a great claw. As the day wore on, he was often nudged from his torpor by other creatures, which, like the snake, had no fear or malice toward him. It was very odd to experience such peace, and he wasn’t entirely sure he liked it. Too weak to do anything more than rest, however, he decided not to worry about what was going on outside his body.

  The next time he awoke, deep shadows cloaked the wood as far as he could see. It was cooler, and the sounds of the forest had changed. The nocturnal beings were now active. Strange chirps and rattling calls coalesced into an intriguing serenade. A low grumble joined this music, and it took a moment for the visitor to realize that this sound was coming from his own stomach. The hunger he felt was beginning to clear his head, and he stiffly rose onto his many knees. Taking a deep breath, he rolled his shoulders where the sting of some injury persisted and thought about where he might find breakfast. There was nothing in this wood to satisfy his appetite. His diet was too specialized.

  As he knelt, he listened. His great ears were sensitive and he understood many languages. Far off, he heard Greek words. Two were speaking, one warning the other not to harm anything within the wood lest the goddess take his head. Yet this seemed not enough threat to the chastised one to prevent mutters of stick-stealing from crossing his lips. As the two moved farther away from where he sat, he dismissed them from his thoughts. He could smell that they were not good to eat. The only thing he wanted was . . . human. The memory spread a happy grimace across his muzzle. Now he had a purpose. Stretching, he stood, parting the brushy fronds of his shelter like a whale breaching the sea. With a few shakes to equally distribute his spotty hair along his thick hide, he started to move through the forest. Sooner or later his nose would guide him to breakfast.

  Chapter 3 - Traveling for the Truth

  “We’ll get a horse cart, and then I’ll take you to the ferry. I’m sure I can get the ferryman to go with you to the Buddha’s Retreat,” D’Molay assured Aavi. He had helped the ferry operator several times in the past and she owed him at least one favor. “Who knows,” he added, “maybe the fresh air will clear your head and you’ll start to remember a bit about your past.” D’Molay gave Aavi an encouraging smile. His initial resentment at being saddled with the girl was being quickly dispelled by her sweet and gentle nature.

  Aavi was not as certain as D’Molay about undertaking this trip. She was a little afraid to be separated from her newfound protector, but he had already done so much to help her that she didn’t wish to become a burden. “I believe you if you say it will be all right. Thank you for all the help you’ve given me, D’Molay. I’d still be lying in the gutter if you hadn’t come forward to help me.”

  “Helping people is what I’ve always done, even before . . .”

  Aavi waited expectantly for D’Molay to explain, but he merely continued to walk. “Before what?” she asked.

  “Before I came to the City of the Gods,” he said, quickly breaking free from his memories. “Now, let’s find that cart and get you on your way.” D’Molay smiled again at Aavi, hoping his simple answer would be enough for her.

  “All right then.” Aavi looked at D’Molay in a new light. Beneath his rugged features and gregarious smile, there was a deep hurt in his heart. She could sense somehow that something terrible had happened to him. He had been betrayed, and then suffered in the worst way imaginable. Aavi wondered how she knew this. Was this some unique power that she alone possessed, or did everyone have this ability? Without her knowledge of her past, she had no way of really knowing. She hoped that the Oracle across the lake would be able to shed some light on who she really was.

  They continued along rose-colored marble palisades past other elaborately dressed healers and patients. Everything in this part of town seemed grandiose, elegant and perfect. Aavi was fascinated by the amazing blend of cultures and peoples she saw as they walked along. She had no previous memory of people coming in such variations of shape, color and size. There were nine foot tall muscular amazons in shiny brass armor; tiny thin men in animal furs with skin as dark as the night sky; a golden man in a red robe with a long braided beard, his body as round as a ball, and more kept passing them by, more than she could take in. All the people she had seen while in the City, and the City itself, were breathtaking. Aavi felt as if she could spend a lifetime just exploring this street. If it weren’t for her predicament she would be deliriously happy. But she had to find out who she was and how she ended up in this amazing place.

  A few minutes later they arrived at a grand stone-columned stable that rented out horses and carts. She noticed that, as he had at the healer’s, D’Molay gave the person in charge the things called coins.

  “Where do you get the coins?” Aavi asked as they got into the rented cart.

  While looking at her in the way a kind teacher might regard a slow student, he explained. “I do tasks for the gods, usually things like tracking down rare items or taking someone safely to a destination. In exchange, they give me coins that I can use to obtain things like this cart.”

  “I see. You trade with them,” Aavi replied with some interest. It dawned on her that she would have to get some of these coins if she was going to stay here for any length of time. She and D’Molay would be parting soon, and she needed to know more about this. “Is there a way I can do tasks for coins?”

  D’Molay almost winced at the thought of what others might want the girl to do to earn coins. He answered her as delicately as he could. “Well, Aavi, there are many ways that someone of your beauty might earn coins, but just promise me you won’t tell anyone you want to for now. It could be very dangerous for you to attempt that . . . in your current state. Trust me on this, Aavi. I shall lend you some of mine. After your memory has returned, y
ou can worry about paying me back. Now - promise you won’t try to earn any coins.”

  Aavi was confused, but D’Molay hadn’t yet given her any advice that wasn’t helpful. There was no reason not to trust in his counsel. “Very well, I promise not to try to earn any coins.” She straightened up as she sat on the cart’s bench, slightly annoyed that she still didn’t really understand why he could earn coins and she could not.

  D’Molay looked satisfied by her reply as he manipulated the reins with one hand and guided the horse cart along the boulevard toward the City gate. With his free hand, he pulled out a small green leather bag about the size of his fist and handed it to Aavi. The bag made a chinking sound as it landed in her hands. “Here. Take these coins with you. You need to understand Aavi, that there are gods and people here that would want to do very strange and sinful things to you that I don’t think you are ready for yet. When you have your identity and your memories back, then you can make a clear decision about the kinds of tasks you want to do for coins.”

  She could feel the great concern in his voice. He was truly worried for her. For a moment, the darkness in his heart seemed to soften and grow fuzzy. “I promise, D’Molay, and thank you for the coins. I’ll return them to you one way or the other,” she replied as she held the leather bag and looked at it. Possessing it made her feel safe and confident.

  “Good . . . good,” D’Molay said with relief, more to himself than to her as they rolled under the City gate and drove toward the vast parklands beyond. They passed those who wanted to enter the City, massed in a long line. Guardians with golden spears stood on either side of the gate to make sure each entrant was properly examined. They paid little attention to anyone leaving the City. Aavi stared at several beautiful crystal pillars that the people were waiting near as she and D’Molay passed by them.

  As the horse clip-clopped along in the midday sun, they moved in and out of the long shadows cast by the trees that lined the path. Aavi suddenly remembered another question she wanted to ask D’Molay. “I heard the healer call you a Freeman. What does that mean?”

  He answered without looking back at her, matter-of-factly. “Almost everyone in the realms is bound to a particular god or pantheon. Some are slaves, some are priests, some are mythical beings and demigods, but almost all of them belong to or are protected by a higher level god. A few people are not bound to any god at all for one reason or another. I am one of them. They call a person like me a Freeman.”

  Aavi smiled. The answer helped explain a little about how the City of the Gods was run. “I see. So it’s a title you earned?”

  D’Molay looked down before he answered, as if he were about to say something he would rather forget. “Yes. I earned my title when I helped a god escape from Purgatory. That was many years ago.” He paused at this, as if nothing more needed to be said on the matter.

  Aavi looked pleadingly at him. “But how did you get here?” She truly wanted to know. Perhaps if she knew how he got here, it might help her learn something about her own situation.

  Looking back at Aavi’s perfect, yet anxious, face, D’Molay could not refuse her an answer. “I’d been in Purgatory for quite a while, and as one who had always traveled the roads, protecting others, I was driven to explore that dreary land fully and see all that it contained. I saw all its empty grey splendor and sad inhabitants, all filled with regrets and sorrow. Just being there drains one’s soul, and there is no way out for any mortal sent there, not until the final judgment day, assuming there ever is one.” D’Molay paused as if he were trying to decide something. He looked out over the grassy hills, the pond, and the fluttering fairy folk going about their carefree tasks of gathering dew and pollen. “In my travels there I found three huge iron gates that led out of Purgatory. One of them led to where we are now, the City and its realms.” He held his arm out and gestured in a circle to indicate all the lands around them.

  “So you came through,” Aavi assumed as they traveled down the dirt trail. A thin wisp of flaxen hair blew across her face as she looked at D’Molay. From time to time, Aavi would attempt to brush it aside, only to have it blow back across her face once again. It seemed to be another of the sometimes enjoyable and often annoying aspects of rediscovering what daily life was like, although she had no real memory of such inconveniences.

  D’Molay gave her a woeful smile as he looked back at her. “Not at first. I tried to open those gates for many years, with no luck. Finally, I gave up and took shelter in a broken down hovel outside of one of the cities of the dead. I accepted my fate and tried to live in the dark ennui that permeates Purgatory like a fog of gloom. It is an empty existence where nothing happens and nothing changes.” A flock of swans suddenly took flight from the pond they were passing and D’Molay watched them fly off into the distance.

  Aavi watched them too, but turned back to D’Molay. “So how did you escape Purgatory then?”

  He gestured with his gloved hand as he continued, as if he had forgotten that he hadn’t finished the tale. “Ah yes. Well, a few years later, someone brought a young godling to my door. He was trapped there due to some kind of teleport accident and he was looking for a guide to lead him out. Word had gotten round about my explorations so I was the natural choice. I knew where all three gates were and which one led to the realm of the gods. The gates are far apart from each other and it is a long journey. Should you go to the wrong gate, it would take you many years to travel to the next one. If this god could get to the right gate, he hoped that he might be able to open it and leave Purgatory. I felt that it was my duty to escort him, but had no real expectation that his efforts would even open the gate. After a long, perilous journey we arrived and he actually was able to open it.”

  D’Molay guided the cart around another bend. They could now see a small wooden dock jutting out into the lake in the far distance.

  “We had traveled together for so long that I think he felt honor bound to offer me the chance to leave with him. I gladly accepted, of course, but told him I could not pledge myself to his service. I had long before decided I would never pledge myself to anyone or anything ever again. Luckily for me, he was glad enough to escape Purgatory and he let me leave with him. That’s how I came to the City of the Gods and I have lived as a Freeman ever since.” D’Molay went silent and looked out to the wilderness again. He leaned forward a little in the cart in an attempt to avoid Aavi’s gaze. He hoped the girl had heard enough.

  Aavi absorbed every bit of D’Molay’s story and was even slightly envious that someone could know so much about their own past. To remember so much about where you have been and what you had done would be exhilarating. She had many more questions she wanted to ask him about his past. How did he end up in Purgatory? What did he do once he got to the City? And why had he promised he would never pledge himself to anything or anyone? She did not think though, that the dark sadness in his heart came from his time in Purgatory. Whatever terrible things had happened to him must have occurred before he ended up there. Aavi felt she dare not probe any deeper into his past. She could tell that D’Molay did not want to discuss those times any more than he already had.

  A moment later, D’Molay glanced at Aavi as if the discussion had never taken place. “We’re almost to the boat that will take you to Buddha’s Retreat,” he said pointing at a dark wooden dock on the shores of the huge lake. Through the trees, Aavi could see a red building, a few boats and a lone figure wearing a triangular shaped hat standing on the dock. She wondered who else she was going to meet in this strange new place.

  Aavi and D’Molay

  Digital Collage based on A Romantic Landscape with the Arrival of the Queen of Sheba (Samuel Colman, c. 1830).

  Chapter 4 - Preparations

  Quetzalcoatl sat cross-legged on a pillow covered dais in his temple, a look of worry on his painted face. As one of the gods of creation, he held a place of high esteem in his realm. His golden skin was tattooed with intricate symbols of his status and position. He wore la
rge bracelets made of turquoise and jade and a large feathered plume on his bald head. Apart from that, he wore little else. He preferred to exist in the form of a large feathered serpent, but today he needed to conduct meetings with his priests and other minor deities. Quetzalcoatl found it was easier to speak and discuss day-to-day affairs in a less imposing form.

  As light from many torches flickered across large stone pillars painted with detailed glyphs, a thin man wearing a cloak made of bright feathers and a golden headdress adorned with still more plumes slowly walked into the large room and toward the stepped dais. Quetzalcoatl observed the priest’s strict movements as he performed the ritual of audience.

  “I favor you, Topiltzin. What news?”

  Topiltzin bowed deeply as he took the last steps up to the dais. “There is a message for you from our spies in Olympia.” The priest held out a folded parchment that was secured with a ribbon and wax seal.

  Quetzalcoatl took the parchment and opened it. As he read, the look of worry on his face changed to one of disgust. “I don’t care about Greeks chasing animals in some forest,” he said. “We have scouts everywhere, yet this is all they see?” He tossed the message aside, angrily.

  “I do not know, my lord,” replied Topiltzin, bowing again.

  “What do you mean you do not know?” Quetzalcoatl asked scornfully as he turned toward the high priest and put his goblet of wine on the floor. Topiltzin was one of his best servants, a crafty and intelligent priest. Quetzalcoatl found it hard to believe he had so little to tell him.

  “My lord, all I can tell you is that we have not found anything.” Topiltzin looked nervous as he held his hands to his face in a prayer like fashion and tapped his fingers together repeatedly.