The Forgotten God

Chapter 37

Shu was both pleased and relieved that the statue had been discovered, along with one of the amulets. But he shook his head when Marie offered it.

"No, I shall take the statue but keep the amulet, it is important but your safety is paramount. If need be, it can be used as a bargaining chip." He looked sorrowful, brushing a ringlet of her hair that whispered over her cheek. "You saw how it worked before. I will keep my hopes that it will not be necessary, but it is there."

"Thank you," Marie nodded solemnly, slipping the piece into the folds of her cardigan. "I hope not too, but I'm fast learning that hoping doesn't give you anything."

She swallowed, wanting to ask about Isaac but feared any answer. She wanted to ask about what the Gods were planning, but the same applied, fear tied a tourniquet about her vocal cords.

Outside, a small group of the risen damned hammered at the door, not phased when splinters tore their flesh from the bone, walking blindly and followed the human scent, compelled by the power that awoke them.

"Hide yourselves," Shu kindled the wind about him "go with grace and gallantry. I will return when the need calls." He took to the air, pausing to add. "The hands of the Gods are deft; they will not fail you."

"I wish I could believe that," Ash whispered gloomily, looking to the floor where the dust danced in Shu's wake. "Finding anything to believe or have any hope in is the hardest task right now."

----

Hope was all Isaac had at that moment, awaiting the Gods return. His mind churned with the desire to unearth more of the fast-flowing memories. They surged and broke as madly as the stormy sea within him, but trepidation embraced him. The more the learned, the more heightened his fear was and the more question seemed to surface.

The amulet around his neck throbbed, sending a warm charge through his chest, tingling his heart and pushing more powerful emotions into him.

His hand clutched at it, a sigh escaping him.

"Alright, I get it," he whispered "continue, let's get this over. Show me what needs to be seen, how this can be stopped." His eyes drifted down, and immediately he wished he hadn't, seeing the devastation. Even from here he could see blood staining the earth, blending with the mud and debris. A quagmire of lives lost.

The world blurred as past and present clashed in a violent melee, twisting and tangling in his head and flowing through his veins, from heart to soul.

The world of shimmering gold returned; the humidity of days long past.

---

"I don't understand!"

The guards voice bounced around Ishaq as he carried a water jug from the butler's rooms where the man resided in elegant luxury that was denied the rest of them. Apparently too important to leave it outside the door, he relied on the slaves or lower servants to remove it for him.

He paused, feigning to adjust the jug the jug on his shoulders, listening with nosy curiosity to the conversation. If questioned, he could simply say they were speaking loud enough for him to hear anyway. Unlike the older servants, the guards would most likely see his argument. If they struck him, it would not be hard, simply a pecking for his cheek.

"He never changes his mind like that!"

The second guard was an older man. A badly trimmed beard making him more recognisable from the rest. It parted towards the centre to just stubble, making him appear as if he had two shrubs sprouting from his chin.