The commotion in the street sounded a lot louder.
He was running out of time. Since ascending to the roof was pointless, he hurried to the outer door the family had left open, and cautiously emerged into the public square. Blinking against the bright Asian sun, he paused to let his eyes adjust.
The square was still thronged, both with humans, and otherwise. Many had heard the cries of alarm and stopped to stare or were backing away from the house, and from him. Their faces registered the gamut from surprise to fear.
Yama looked for a side street and spied one further down. Breaking into a run, he slung the Wilkinson to free his hands. He’d rather not resort to it if he could help it. The gunfire might draw even more demigods.
A squeal of terror caused him to break stride.
The toad thing he had seen from the roof, the thing that had devoured the woman, was bounding toward him. Those in its path who failed to scramble out of the way were bowled over, some so violently that they crashed to the earth broken and bleeding.
Yama had no hope of outrunning it. Falling into a horse stance, he drew his scimitar. Why the creature was attacking him, he couldn’t say. Maybe it was trained to go after outsiders.
Not until it was almost upon him was its full size apparent. The creature was taller than he was, and three times as wide, five hundred pounds if it weighed an ounce. Its bulbous eyes never blinked as it came to rest with a squishy sound not ten feet from where he stood. Its tongue flicked and it made a strange crackling sound, as of two rocks struck together.
Yama didn’t wait for it to pounce. Were it to spring on top of him, he’d be smashed flat. He attacked, slashing at the toad’s throat. By rights he should have sliced it wide open but the toad, despite its bulk, scrabbled aside lightning fast, and coiled its stubby legs.
Yama had misjudged how quick it was. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Before he could spring, though, the toad was on him, its maw spreading wide. He dodged, slashed, and rolled. A blow to his shoulder nearly sent him sprawling but he regained his balance and rose onto the balls of his feet, his scimitar poised.
The toad went a few yards past and whirled. From a slash low on its belly, green blood oozed. It looked down at itself and uttered a loud gronk.
Yama burst into motion, his legs uncoiling under him. Arcing high, he cleaved the at scimitar the thing’s head but again it scrambled aside….almost. The edge of his blade caught the creature slightly below its bulbous left eye, and sheared the eye clean off.
From the toad’s gullet issued a shriek no human throat could reproduce. Green blood sprayed every which way as it violently shook and backpedaled. Thirty feet out, it spun and lurched unsteadily off, uttering hideous bleats.
Yama let it go. He needed to make himself scarce before Dhurga or any of her minions showed up.
The throng in the square were pointing, and some shouted back and forth. The impression he had was that they were amazed he’d bested the toad.
Eager to hunt cover, Yama made for the side street. Those in front of him hastily made way. He figured they were scared of him until he noticed that many were looking fearfully at something coming up the street.
Or, as it turned out, three ‘somethings’. The tallest was purple, the pair that flanked it green. An Indrian and two Batuas. Demigods. All three had sidearms and swords.
Yama scowled. So much for trying to avoid discovery. Wiping the scimitar on his pant leg, he slid it into its scabbard and unlimbered the Wilkinson;
The trio came to a halt and the purple one barked orders that resulted in the green pair moving to either side.
“I don’t want any trouble,” Yama warned. “I’m here for the Lords of Kismet. Not for you.”
He was wasting his breath.
The purple demigod, the Indrian, rattled a string of angry words and pointed at Yama’s Wilkinson. Its meaning was clear; drop the SMG.
“Not going to happen,” Yama said, shaking his head for emphasis.
They got the message. The purple creature growled an order and all three clawed for their hardware.
CHAPTER 38
Hickok would never admit it but deep down he was worried. Here he was, cut off from his pards, alone in a foreign land, weaponless, outnumbered a zillion to one, and tangling with creatures with abilities far beyond anything human. He dearly wished he had his Colts. Without his pistols, when it came to a fight, he was a shadow of his full deadliness.
Dhurga’s temple, Kayala had told him, was the highest building in Bangkok. So when the platform finally stopped, he was treated to a panoramic vista of the entire city thanks to the fact the walls were composed of a wondrous crystal as clear as glass. From that high up, the view was spectacular.
Hickock surveyed the miles of bustling streets and habitations, and had to admit, “Not what I expected.”
“How do you mean?” Kayala asked.
“This whole business,” Hickok said. “We had no idea what we were up against.”
“You and your fellow Warriors, you mean?”
Hickok tried to recollect if he’d mentioned that fact. A hard poke in the back, courtesy of one of the red demigods, broke his concentration and propelled him forward. “I can take a hint, gruesome.”
The Ganairabs hustled them to enormous double doors plated in gold. Another pair of the creatures stood guard, and these wore helmets in addition to the usual uniforms.
Apparently Hickok and the old woman were expected, because without saying a word, the pair gripped the handles and pushed on the doors.
Their escorts motioned for Hickok and Kayala to enter but didn’t follow them in.
“The throne room,” Kayala said.
Hickok had figured that out for himself. Large enough to accommodate
