Forgotten Gods 

Milo ran his trowel through the gravel, pulled out another clay pot and added it to the pile he'd built up throughout the hours he'd been kneeling in the light of the arc lamp delicately shifting through the debris. His back hurt from the bending down, his arms ached from the constant digging, his lungs burned from the effort of breathing the recycled oxygen from the pack on the back of his suit.  

He was getting too old to be in the field; Off Planet Archaeology was a young person's game. He dropped his trowel into the dirt, cast his arms wide and stretched. 

Turning his head as far as the field of vision of his helmet allowed he looked back towards the temple entrance. He could see the main group moving about, their long shadows thrown up high on the stone walls by the floodlights they had set up there. 

A dark shape suddenly loomed out of the blackness in front of him. Milo jerked backwards. 

'Sorry Milo. Did I surprise you?' His headset crackled. 

'Oh it's you Lydia. You made me jump. It's odd, this place, don't you find? Sort of strangely remote, divorced from reality.' He shook his head. 'I'm sorry, I've been down here too long. I should go back to camp and get some air.' 

'Somehow I find it quite comforting. Oddly familiar in a way.' She lowered herself down beside him one knee at a time. The heavy back packs on the unwieldy suits had a habit of toppling you over if you weren't careful. 'Found anything?' 

'Yet more pots. And if you've seen one pot, you've seen them all.' he replied wryly. 'Offerings I should think, probably to the temple priests. How's the deciphering going?' 

'That's why I came over. We've deciphered the main plaque at the front of the temple. You're not superstitious are you?' 

'After all these years. I think not. Why?' 

'Because it's forbidden to speak the god's name out loud. If you hear it, you will die.' 

'Go on then hit me.' Milo grinned behind his visor, 'I think I can stand it.' 

'I thought you might. It says the temple belonged to a god called Nergalrhod, the priest cult was called Cuthah.' 

'Never heard of either.' 

'No, nor me. This place has been a ruin for thousands of years. I suppose when the atmosphere became poisonous and the people here died out it became derelict just like everything else we've found on this planet.' 

'And when the people died they left their Gods behind them, uncared for, forgotten.' Milo gazed despondently at the faded paint on the wall in front of them.  

'The inscription says that parties of pilgrims used to travel here, across the desert to make offerings to the god here.' 

'These votive jars?' Milo pointed to the stack he'd piled against the wall. 

'Not exactly, this was a death cult of some sort. One of each of the visiting parties would have to willingly offer themselves to be sacrificed here otherwise the rest of the party would be taken by the priests and killed. The chosen ones would write all the things they should be remembered for on a strip of material, put it in the jar and then give themselves to the Nergalrhod.' 

'Another death cult eh? I half suspected as much. It's a shame all the jars are empty otherwise we might have had some insight into the people that used to come here. I suppose the materials in them have decayed over the lapse of time.' 

'Time is our enemy Milo.' 

They knelt in silence for a few moments looking at the shattered jars strewn over the floor. 

'So will it be you Milo?' 

'What?' 

'Who offers himself, to me? Willingly?' 

Milo grinned to himself. He'd always liked Lydia. Despite being a little older than the other graduates she had that off- beat sense of humour that you sometimes found in the younger students. 

Lydia sat back and began to undo the bolts on her helmet. 

'Lydia what are you doing? The air here, it's poisonous. You can't take that off?' Milo's voice climbed with alarm. He reached out and grabbed her arm. 

She quickly pushed him back, flipped the catches away, lifted the helmet off and dropped it to the ground.  

She shook her dark hair free and turned to Milo. 

'Lydia?' Milo shrank back. 

She reached forward, took his head in her hands and drew him close to her until the skin of her forehead was pressed against his visor, her face inches from his. The pupils that consumed Milo burned molten silver set in fiery balls of shimmering gold. 

'Milo can you hear me?' Her voice sounded distant, muffled. 

'Yes.' Milo's voice was shaking. Cold sweat trickled slowly down his back.  

'I am the Nergalrhod Milo, this is my house you are in. Do you understand?' 

Milo nodded, his warm breath misting the visor like a hoar frost.  

'Are you willing to give your life to save the others?' 

Milo's laugh sounded hollow, echoing around the inside of his helmet. He stopped abruptly. 'Why me?' 

'You are the oldest Milo.' She released her grip and picked up one of the clay pots on the floor. It crumbed slowly to dust. 'If you were to look back in time and write a list of all you have done it would be the longest of everyone here.' 

Milo looked back into the darkness at the floodlights in the distance, 'Yes I suppose it would be.' 

'And when you look forward Milo, to what is to come, will there be much you expect to add? 

'No, I suppose not.' 

'There. That is why it should be you.'  

She dropped the remnants of the pot onto the floor and sat with her back against the wall looking at Milo. Then she gently pulled off her gloves and studied her hands as if seeing them for the first time. Picking up a handful of sand she held it high above her and allowed it to trickle though her fingers slowly building up a cone of sand on the ground between her legs. 

'Time, time, time. What has become of me?' She smiled and looked at Milo before adding dreamily. 'I'm not the God I once used to be.' 

Milo watched the little mound build up, like the sands in an hour glass. 

She looked up. 'Join me Milo. It's been a long time since I've had company. I can show you wonderful things. Together we can explore the world that used to be here. Before the stone turned to sand, the seas vaporised to salt, the sky shed its colour and faded into nothingness.' 

'What about Lydia?' 

'I will return her to the others. Unharmed.' 

Together they watched the running sand. 

'When the last grain of sand runs through my hand Milo you must make your decision. Otherwise I will gather the others unto me.' 

'I've made it.' His mouth was so dry he could hardly speak. 

'I know.'  

She knelt in front of him. His hands were shaking so much he couldn't release the catches. His breath came in short shudders. She guided his fingers to the catches and steadied his shaking arms. 

He lifted the helmet up, the seal breaking with a short hiss of air. 

Holding his head in her arms as his body shook uncontrollably she ran her hand though his hair until his eyes glazed over. She bent down, her hair falling over his face and whispered.  

'Don't worry Milo. Time has lost its hold on you. I have you now.'

 This story has been turned into a longer one -'The Shadow of the Moon' which is on this site.

Thanks for reading so far -all the stories in this collection are very different and there is a guide at the back to help you pick out the ones you may like if you want to take a look.