Chapter One hundred and twenty eight: A Strange Procession
There were few people in the streets of Akhetaten. It was still early in the morning but Kiya supposed that most would stay indoors now that news of the impending battle had spread. The main roads through the town were cleared and the side roads cordoned off by soldiers.
Kiya waited behind a group of soldiers and was joined by curious bystanders.
“What is going on,” said a man. “Why is the road blocked?” he sounded annoyed.
“Have you not heard?” said Kiya. “We are under attack.”
“Then why are the soldiers not defending the city?” said the man. “Why are they blocking the road and stopping respectable people getting to work?”
“There are monsters on the way,” said Kiya. “But they must be allowed to pass through without hindrance.”
“Pass through? What nonsense is that!” said the man.
“What sort of monsters?” a woman asked.
Kiya turned to her. “Some might be dangerous,” she said. “It would be advisable to go home and remain in safety.”
The woman looked past her and up to the sky. “What is happening?” she cried and pointed upwards.
Kiya looked and saw a huge, black cloud like a wave threatening to engulf the city. “It’s Seth!” she breathed.
The woman ran and many others followed but the man stayed beside Kiya. “I am not afraid of monsters,” he said.
Perhaps you should be, thought Kiya but she said nothing. The wait dragged on. Kiya could sense the tension in the air as the soldiers shifted nervously in front of her. It grew darker as Seth’s thundercloud blanked out the sun. Kiya smelt a whiff of silage.
“They are coming,” she said to the soldiers.
“How do you know?” demanded the man. “This is a waste of time.”
Then the first monster appeared. When Kiya saw it walk past the entrance to the side street her memory was transported back to Crete. The creature was a bull-man, like the minotaur. Its huge, horned head turned from side to side upon its massive shoulders, as it peered around, alert for trouble. It walked with a strange prancing gate, its man-body barely able to support the head of a bull.
One of the soldiers gave a frightened gasp and dropped his spear. The monster stopped and glared into the side street. It raised its head and sniffed the air. As it lifted its upper lip, Kiya saw that it differed from the Cretan minotaur because its teeth were not those of a lion but were the wide, blunt teeth of a herbivore.
“It is harmless,” she murmured to the soldiers. “Let it pass.”
After a long moment the creature turned and continued on its way and Kiya could sense the relief of the soldiers. They were soon on the alert again for the man-bull was followed by a lion with a man’s head. It prowled past, head down to the ground as if following a scent. Then came a man, trotting upon goat’s legs, arm in arm with a woman sporting the huge stomach and thighs of a pig.
Kiya had assumed that all monsters were as ugly as the first, then a horse with the upper half of a man instead of a head and neck, pranced past. It was beautiful. Its coat was glossy, its tail thick and, the part that was a man, well-muscled and handsome. She sniffed the air and smelled meadow grass and wild flowers.
“Why don’t the soldiers kill it?” muttered the man. “They must be cowards to be frightened of a horse.”
The procession of extraordinary creatures continued and a whirl of unpleasant scents assaulted Kiya’s senses. A snarling fight broke out between a man with a wolf’s head and a three-headed dog. Kiya saw them shoving each other as they walked past the end of the road. The wolf man had flipper-like arms and he hit the dog a blow that sent it whimpering ahead.
“Is that the plan, then?” asked the man beside Kiya, getting more and more agitated. “Are we to wait for those creatures to kill each other?”
A soldier turned around and glared at him.
“Shush,” whispered Kiya. “We must not alert them to our presence.”
“Cowards,” muttered the man but he held his peace as the parade continued.
Every combination of human and animal that could be imagined walked past the waiting soldiers. After the large and then the medium-sized creatures, smaller ones followed. Kiya recognised the flat-footed goblin she had seen in the mine. There was a group of them – males, females and those she presumed were children.
Tiny creatures fluttered around the column. Kiya looked closely and saw that they were diminutive but perfectly-formed humans with butterfly wings. Their essences were a mixture of bitter and sweet.
The reduced size of the passing monsters gave the grumbling man courage, for he pushed his way through the soldiers, grabbing a spear as he went.
“Stop him,” yelled Kiya. But they were too late. The man set upon the monsters stamping and stabbing with the spear.
Two rat-like animals were crushed under foot, a third speared and a butterfly-girl knocked to the ground before a shadow loomed over the man. He looked up, his aggressive expression changing to one of fear.
Kiya had been about to rush out to stop the slaughter, but she drew back into the side street when she saw that Molloch was bringing up the rear of the column. Kiya watched him grab the man and lift him high. The smell of burning flesh filled the air and the man screamed in agony.
For what seemed an age the man’s tortured body writhed in Molloch’s grip. Kiya shut her eyes and held her hands over her ears in an attempt to block out the sounds of his torment. At last Molloch must have judged him to have suffered enough for the screaming stopped. Kiya opened her eyes to see that the man had been thrust head first into the monster’s mouth. His legs, still twitching, were being swallowed into the orifice in Molloch’s chest.
Silence fell. Kiya heard the sound of a moan and realised that it came from herself. She had never seen anyone die so horribly. Her knees were shaking from shock. How much more traumatized must the soldiers be, she wondered. For this was the first time they had encountered a colossus such as Molloch.
They waited for more monsters but none came. Warily Kiya followed the soldiers as they ventured into the main road. Molloch could be seen in the distance, following the procession out of the city. Where his feet had trodden the heat of his body had turned the sand to glass.