“What in the world are you?” Blade blurted.
The pair seemed as surprised to see him as he was about them. They loomed on either side, and one bent and tore the machete from his grasp. Neither showed any interest in the dead woodcutter. They chattered at Blade in a language he was unfamiliar with and then stood there as if waiting for a reply.
Blade hardly noticed when the woodcutter’s wife timidly slipped inside. But he did when she screamed and ran to her husband. Wailing, she dropped to her knees, cradled his head in her lap, and broke into heavy sobs.
The green creature holding the machete turned. Without saying anything, without any warning whatsoever, it stepped behind the wife, raised the machete practically to the ceiling, and with a single stroke, decapitated her.
Blade was thunderstruck. It happened so swiftly, he had no chance to warn her.
The green creature tossed the bloody machete aside. He and the other one conversed in that rapid-fire way of theirs, and both looked down at Blade.
“Do you speak English?” Blade tried. He got no response. “Are you Lords of Kismet? Or something else?”
Ignoring him, the pair stepped to the woman. Blood oozed from the severed stump, spreading in a pool. Her head lay with her sightless eyes fixed on the rafters.
To Blade’s astonishment, one of the green creatures squatted, placed its mouth to her neck, and slurped at the blood like a cat slurping milk from a saucer. The other one picked up her head, examined it, then drew his curved sword and skillfully peeled off her hair, as a man would peel an apple, and the skin it was attached to. Setting the head down, it split the head open from crown to nose with one stroke of its sword. Then, squatting, it set the sword down, gripped the two sections, and pressed them wider apart. All so it could reach in, scoop out a handful of brains, and stuff the pulp in its mouth.
Blade felt his gorge rise. He had come to Asia prepared for anything, or so he’d thought. He knew the Gualaons ate human flesh. Were partial to it, in fact. These things were the same. It made him wonder just how extensive the practice of eating humans had become.
The pair took their sweet time. When they had gorged to their satisfaction, the one tore off the woman’s sarong and they wiped their mouths and their hands.
Blade braced for the worst when they approached. He figured he’d be their next course, but no. One seized hold of his ankles, the other slipped pencil-thin fingers under his arms, and together they carried him from the hut. As they stooped to exit, Blade was suddenly nose-to-holes with the one who had his arms. Its eerie eyes, with those vertical pupils, reminded him of a snake. Its breath was positively fetid.
Outside waited another surprise, a metal rectangle about six feet long and three feet wide. Slate-grey, it lay flat on the ground. Studs and dials were inset at various points.
The green creatures deposited Blade none too gently on top of it. While one relieved him of his bowies, the other went into the hut and came back out carrying the Commando. Stooping, it pressed a stud and turned a dial.
The metal rectangle began to hum. Blade felt a slight vibration, and a tingle where his skin touched the metal. The tingling increased, until suddenly the entire construct rose into the air and floated a good five feet off the ground.
Blade had never witnessed the like. One of the green creatures moved to the right of the device, the other to the left side. They started off, and the hover skiff, as Blade dubbed it, skimmed along between them.
A well-marked path led through a patch of jungle to more huts, whose occupants, on seeing the green creatures, dropped to their knees and placed their foreheads to the earth. The creatures paid no attention to them whatsoever.
Past the huts spread the outskirts of Bangkok proper.
Blade took in the streets, the spires and towers, the throngs of people and other beings. He had no inkling where they were taking him until the green creature on the right pointed at the tallest structure of all and then at him…..and rubbed its belly and smacked its lips.
CHAPTER 33
Hickok was pondering the revelation that the Lords of Kismet regarded humans as food when a door slammed down the corridor and the tramp of heavy feet caused everyone in the holding cell to stiffen in fear. Many backed as far away from the cell door as they could get.
A pair of guards tromped into view. They wore uniforms but not badges. Both were short and squat and had red, scaly skin. They also had three eyes, long snouts, and thick lips.
“What the dickens are those critters?” Hickok asked Kalaya.
“Demigods.”
“They don’t look like any kind of ‘god’ to me.”
“There are three kinds of demigods,” she continued as if he hadn’t interrupted. “You can tell them by their skin. Purple, green or red. The purple are the highest. They are known as the Indrians. The green are called Batuas.” She motioned at the pair who had reached the cell door and were unlocking it. “The red are known as Ganairabs.”
Hickok thought of the creature he had shot. “What do you mean, the purple are highest?”
“Each has their function under the gods,” Kalaya said, as if reciting. “The Indrians enforce the laws the Lords make. The Batuas serve under them. I believe you would call them deputies. The Ganairabs work as temple guards, and as what you might call foot soldiers.”
“They look like piggly-wigglies to me,” Hickok said.
The red demigods entered the cell. Neither, Hickok was puzzled to see, were armed. They gazed around and then one pointed at him and strode over, his boots thumping the floor with every
