“We will go there, to be sure-but we go cautiously, a small number of us, to investigate. If they are here to help, that is very well, but if they are here to obstruct us, we shall learn this first.”
“But-“ Kardann’s objection died on his lips. He nodded quickly, hiding a crafty smile that played across his lips, before looking up at the captain-general. “That, of course, is only sensible. I ask you, please-allow me to accompany you when you return to Helmsport.”
Cordell frowned. Little did he relish the thought of the little man’s constant presence. But he realized that, as an official of Amn, Kardann could prove useful in negotiations with any relief expedition. And whatever other considerations he had faded to the background in the face of one truth that had become totally clear to him: These newcomers to Maztica must join him and accept him as their leader. He would not subordinate his force, small and beleaguered though it was, to another. And to this end, Kardann might prove useful. As he thought, plans began to crystallize in his mind. He grew anxious, pacing absently as he prepared to take action.
Finally the legionnaires and the Kultakan chiefs had gathered, so Cordell turned to speak to them all. Briefly he explained the news brought by Carac. The legionnaires raised a hearty cheer when they heard that more of their countrymen had landed in the True World. If any were as puzzled or concerned as Cordell about the origins of this new expedition, they kept their misgivings to themselves. Then, referring to the map of Maztica provided by Chical, he began to give specific orders.
“Horsemen, you will prepare your mounts for a long ride-across the continent, back to Helmsport. We will reach die anchorage, where the ships now await us.” He studied the faces of his men, his voice ringing confidently. They looked back, filled with hope and enthusiasm for the plan, any plan, that would bring them closer to a return to the Sword Coast.
“I want the footmen and Tokol, with your Kultakans, to march southeastward from here. You will reach the coast of a tropical sea. Your force will be some five thousand strong.”
His men shouted hurrahs. None raised any questions or objections, and indeed Cordell would have been very surprised if they had.
“It is my intention to send the fleet at Helmsport-twenty-five ships in all, according to the count of our good eagle- around the Payit peninsula. They will meet you at the coast, and there you will embark for the return to Helmsport. One* we have gathered there, fully reinforced, we will be ready to stand against the Viperhand.” Or any other threat that I identify, his mind added silently Cordell admitted to himself that his purposes, in his own mind, had not yet fully crystallized. He only knew that he saw potential before him that he would not have imagined a few days earlier.
“The warriors of Nexal will remain here,” he continued. “The threat to the north has receded, hut not disappeared entirely. However, with the breastworks on the ridge and steady vigilance, Tukan will remain safe.
“Then, when all of our forces have gathered, we will be ready to claim Maztica together for humankind!”
Once again his men raised a cheer, and this lime the Mazticans joined in.
“I don’t even care that it’s salty,” Halloran admitted, with*in expansive gesture across the rich blue Sea of Azul. “It’s wet, and a lot cooler than the air.”
“It’s better than that accursed desert, I’ll grant you that,” Daggrande agreed. He gestured toward the long file of desert dwarves marching before them. “How they can live that hellhole is beyond me.”
“How did they come to be there?” Jhatli asked. “Often I have heard of the Hairy Men of the Desert, but no human had ever seen them before, or so it is said”
The trio brought up the rear of their group as they marched along the sandy shore. A short distance ahead Erixitl rode Storm, while Coton and Lotil followed behind the horse.
The barren terrain of the desert stretched to the limits of the horizon to the left, yet the companions were considerably refreshed during this portion of their march. The blue waters of the Sea of Azul, to their right, provided an often used cooling agent. In addition, the smooth, sandy beach made for much easier traveling than had the rough ground of the desert.
The latter fact was of particular importance to Halloran, who had grown increasingly worried about Erixitl and the child who now rounded her belly to a rich fullness. Across the desert, during the many weeks of the trek to the sea, she had walked steadily. But the rugged journey had taken its toll, and though she tried to conceal her moments of weakness, the caring eyes of her husband were not deceived.
She had protested only feebly when he insisted that she ride the horse, and now she spent most of each day in the saddle. Lotil had ridden through the roughest of the desert, but now, on the smooth sand of the beach, the blind man found the walking easier. He proved apparently tireless over the long days of march, as long as he had a hand on a horse or companion to show him the way.
Halloran knew that the long trek had been very hard on Erixitl, though she bore the strain with little complaining. She had never spoken of the terrible loss she must have felt after giving up her feathered token, though Hal knew she had carried the object since girlhood. Not only was it a cherished memento of her father, but it was also a token with magical powers that had saved their lives more than once.
He knew, in fact, that it had saved their lives one last time when she used it to secure passage through the Halls of the Dead.
Lotil still carried the pluma bundle with him, and when they stopped each evening, he carefully worked a few more feathers into the cotton mesh. The design there had not yet begun to take shape, yet Halloran saw bright colors and a magical sense of beauty in the small portion of the pluma fabric already completed.
Hal turned back to his companions, realizing that Daggrande was answering Jhatli’s question about the desert dwarves.
Luskag told me the story, at least as much as they know of it.” The grizzled legionnaire had found that, despite the vast differences in their backgrounds, the desert dwarves and he basically spoke the same dwarven tongue, with minor variations. He spent much time talking with the chieftains, exchanging stories and experiences with his unusual cousins.
“It happened after a war with the drow-one of the wars that dwarves have always fought with the drow. Something they call the Rockfire destroyed the caverns and tunnels that connected them to the rest of dwarvenhood. It must have been some underground volcano, or an earthquake, maybe.
“Anyhow, they thought that all (he drow had been killed, and they thought that being cut off from their kin was a small price to pay to get rid of their worst enemies. It seems that this is the first warfare they’ve known since that time.”
“They’re certainly good at it, for folks who are out of practice,” Halloran said. The memory, nearly two months old, of the desert dwarves’ timely arrival in the battle with the trolls lived fresh in his mind. They all knew that they had faced certain and imminent death.
Now they marched with the dwarves in friendship, enjoying the gruff curiosity and solid competence of the Hairy Men of the Desert. The friendship had grown quickly to respect as together they had borne the rigors of the desert trail. Days of blazing sun had followed one after the other,
broken only by short, clear nights of startling chill. Their only water had come from the plump, precious cactus that the desert dwarves seemed to be able to smell from miles’ away, or from the blessed magic of Coton’s clerical power. They had shared the food he created among all of them, and somehow they had stayed alive.
And when the pair of fire lizards had attacked the companions and the desert dwarves, their respect had become an unbreakable bond, for they proved in battle that each possessed courage and skill worthy of the other. Two dwarves had paid with their lives in the first brunt of the attack as the giant, dragonlike creatures had charged from their dry caves.
But the keen missiles from Daggrande and Jhatli had distracted one, while Luskag had led his dwarves in a circular attack against the
second. Halloran, with Helmstooth carving a deadly swath through the desert air, had felled the first with a blow to its neck, while the plumastone weapon of the desert dwarves had disemboweled the second.
The fight had also provided the one night of epic feasting along the barren trail when they seared the tough meal on hot fires of brush and pretended they were devouring the tenderest of delicacies.
“And now the Hairy Men march with us to Twin Visages? Jhatli was still trying to get a picture of this vast land called Maztica. Though he had lived here all of his life, until four months earlier he had never been beyond the valley of Nexal.
“The story goes that they had some kind of collective vision-at a place they call the Sunstone,” Daggrande explained. “I’d like to see it sometime-a lake, high inside a mountain, that seems to be made of silver!” The dwarf shook his head in wonder. “There they saw an image of darkness, and a flower of light within it. As soon as they saw Erixitl, according to Luskag, they recognized her as that flower. So now they’ve pledged to help her drive back the darkness.”
They moved steadily northward, following the long file of the desert dwarves. Always the memory of Twin Visages lay
before them, with the hope that Erixitl’s guess was right. Qotal would await them there, they told themselves over and over again, and they would stand fast to open the god’s passage into the True World. What happened after that would be left in the hands of the gods.
The verdant foliage surrounded Gultec, masking his position from the advancing enemy. The Jaguar Knight drew back his longbow, sighting on the first of the approaching ants, and then he let the arrow fly.
The missile struck true, in the left eye of the monstrous insect. The creature reared back, antennae flailing wildly. Other ants rushed forward, scrambling over their wounded cohort. The creature struck by Gultec’s arrow spun in confusion, finally rushing into the brush off to the side of the army’s path.
Six of the giant ants rushed straight toward Gultec, only to draw a flurry of arrows. A dozen bowmen of Tulom-Itzi stood behind their leader, and several of their missiles struck the insects’ vulnerable eyes. Three more of the ants, wounded and disoriented, began to circle in agitation.
Quickly the humans melted back into the woods, following the winding trail that allowed them to make rapid progress. Gultec, who went last, retreated away just ahead of the leading ant, before turning to launch another missile. This arrow caromed off the creature’s tough-skinned head, however, and the Jaguar Knight sprinted for his life.
Ten minutes later, the men paused in a grassy glade to catch their breath. The ants would reach them soon, but experience had taught them that they had a few minutes to regroup. When vines and underbrush restricted the path, an ant could press forward as fast as a man or even faster, but with a trail to follow, a running man could swiftly outdistance one of the giant insects.
“Good shooting,” Gultec announced. “We hurt them that time.”
“Bui there are so many!” protested Keesha, one of the finest archers among the Itza. “How long can we keep harassing them thus? Every time we take our lives in our hands-and we cannot stop them!”
They all knew that several dozen men haul already lost their lives in these dangerous delaying tactics. And despite! their losses, the ant army marched implacably onward, pursuing the fleeing Itza toward the north.
“By tomorrow we will reach the mountains,” explained) Gultec. “There it is my hope that we can create an ambush and trap many of the beasts at once.” He looked at Keesha) and the others sympathetically.
“We also may succeed in drawing one of their leaders ton ward the front again,” he added. “If we can attack these man-bugs, then we may begin to stop the army.”
In the face of the frequent attacks from the forest, the driders commanding the ant army had taken to following in the path of their insect horde. While this protected them from the attacks, it also considerably lessened the drive and direction of the army. The column of ants tended to veer toward whichever threat presented itself, giving a party of archers nearby a chance to strike its flank and distract it from its original target.
A scream-a very human cry of nightmarish pain-tore through the jungle, and the warriors stiffened reflexively. They were but one of several bands of archers harassing the ants. One of the other groups, they knew, had just paid the price for their tactics.
“Let’s go!” Gultec growled, leading his men in the direction of the scream. Though they had no trail to follow now, the chance to make a diversionary attack in the flank of the column was one they could not ignore.
They soon heard the crunching and rustling of the army before them, and they pressed cautiously through the brush. Soon they saw the giant red bodies, the segments glistening in the patches of sunlight that broke through the overhanging canopy of leaves. The ants advanced past them from left to right. A flash of feathers indicated their fellow Itza archers, quickly disappearing into the jungle.
PI harsh cry arose from nearby, and the ants surged forward. Gultec saw one of the man-bugs jerkily scuttling forward. The creature held a long black bow, from which it fired a slim shaft in the direction of the retreating archers. Then it barked again in its strange tongue, obviously commanding the ants to pursue.
The Jaguar Knight’s pulse raced. Here was the chance he had been waiting for! “Hold your fire until Keesha gives the command,” he told his warriors. “I’m going after that one.”
Gultec sprang upward, grasping a tree limb and pulling himself into the foliage of the jungle’s heavy canopy. His shape shifted as he crept forward, hands and feet sprouting claws, becoming soft, padded paws that conformed easily to the rough surface of the limb. His Jaguar Knight’s helm shrank over his head, and then, from between fanged feline jaws, a deep growl rumbled. The jaguar’s spotted hide blended perfectly with the verdure as Gultec squatted down to wait.
“Now!” He heard Keesha’s command, and a dozen arrows burst from the brush to land among the ants. Several of these struck the man-bug but bounced harmlessly off its black metal shirt. Once Gultec would have thought that was the creature’s skin, but his experiences with the foreigners had shown him the powers of metal armor. He knew now that the black shell was such a material.
With the new attack, the ants twisted in confusion until the man-thing commanded them to turn and race toward the new threat. The bug’s path, Gultec saw with grim anticipation, took it very near the jaguar’s tree.
Ignoring the ants jerking and twisting around him, the great cat’s yellow eyes fixed upon the humanlike torso pitching and lurching among the insects. The drider passed the tree, still barking in its harsh, foreign tongue, and the ants pressed into the brush after Gultec’s band of archers. Keesha had already commanded them to fall back, the jaguar saw with satisfaction.
Then came the moment, as the man-bug moved away, its attention fixed steadily on the jungle before it. Silently the jaguar’s muscles flexed, hurling the heavy body into a great leap.
Gultec soared through the air and crashed heavily to the back of the drider. The weight of the cat bore the thing to the ground, and the human torso twisted frantically as the black-skinned face turned toward its attacker.
The drider screamed once, very quickly, as it saw the gaping jaws studded with curved, gleaming fangs. Gultec’s claws scraped for a hold on the hard carapace as his jaws clamped around the slender neck. He bit hard and felt bones snap beneath his jaws.
Instantly the creature went limp beneath him. Ants twitched in confusion, many turning toward him while others circled in aimless agitation. Mandibles snapped at the great cat, but before any could reach the creature’s spotted hide, Gultec flexed his muscles again.
With a powerful kick of his hind legs, he sprang straight up into the air. His forepaws seized an overhanging branch, quickly pulling the rest of his body behind them.
Then he leaped to another tree, darting away from the army, and in another second, he was gone.
T
he companions and their escort of desert dwarves had followed the smooth, barren coastline north for nearly a week when they began to encounter signs of increasing vegetation. First a fringe of hardy brown grass appeared, covering the dunes and spreading inland. Next, clumps brittle brush-dry and weather-beaten, but very common began to dot the land.
Hills rolled along the shore, though the beach itself mained smooth and sandy. Finally they noticed trees nest in the valleys between the hills.
At last, near noon of a typically hot and cloudless day, the reached an irrefutable sign that they had left the desert behind.
“A stream! Running water!” Jhatli, who had been scouting ahead of the procession, came racing back across the sand with the news. He looked older now, though his face still brightened with a childlike eagerness for good news. His body, however, had been toughened over the trek, even as he had grown an inch or more. Now wiry muscle rippled beneath his dark skin and tiny creases of concentration showed around his eyes.
Storm’s ears pricked upward at the scent of fresh water, and with Halloran jogging beside her, the mare carried Erixitl forward at an eager trot.
They reached a shallow grotto, where the stream flowed into the sea, and wasted no time in drinking and bathing. By the time Coton, Lotil, and the dwarves caught up, the three humans had drunk their fill and were basking peacefully beside the placid brook.
“The edge of the forest country,” remarked Luskag, staring in suspicion at the clear stream. He gestured to the wooded hills beyond. “The mountains of Far Payit lay there, to the northeast. We will skirt them as we continue to move north.”
For several more days, they journeyed along the coast, but now it was a forested shore, with realms of fiat savannah or rolling, wooded hills fringing their trail. The beach itself often disappeared, replaced by rocky crags and small, sheltered coves.
Feathered Dragon mt-3 Page 16
