Feathered Dragon mt-3

by Douglas Niles

  “We are travelers, seeking to pass through this country. We journey to Ulatos, and then on to Twin Visages,” Erix answered. “But who are you, a people that we find here without houses or crops?”

  The first of the men looked at her suspiciously, and then sighed. “We are the folk of Tulom-Itzi. We have been driven from our city by the horror that comes out of the earth.”

  “Tulom-Itzi! But-but that’s where Gultec was called to!” she exclaimed to Halloran. At the knight’s name, the men started.

  “Do you know Gultec, Knight of the Jaguar?” the first speaker asked.

  “He is our friend and companion,” she replied. “He left us to journey back to Tulom-Itzi after he was called by his master…” She tried to remember the name Gultec had told her. “Zochimaloc?”

  “Yes, our great and wise chief.”

  ‘is he here? Is he alive?”

  “He is not here. He was alive this morning, but who knows now? All of our men, led by Gultec, stand at a pass high in the mountains.” The man gestured to the ridgeline. looming high and remote to the east. “There they stand against the horror.”

  He went on to explain the nature of the attacking army their flight from the city, and the skirmishes that had pre-; ceded the warriors’ stand at the pass. “Now we have fled until we can flee no more. If the pass is held, we shall remain here. If our warriors are killed, we shall perish soon afterward.”

  “We have warriors with us,” Erixitl exclaimed. “Perhaps we can help. How far is the pass you speak of?”

  The man gestured again, brightening for a moment but then sighing and shaking his head. “I thank you. The battle may be won or lost by now. We left the warriors hours ago,

  and the ants were not far behind.”

  Erixitl explained the situation for the others, and Halloran studied the rolling, jungled mountains.

  “Monstrous ants!” exclaimed Jhatli. “I am not afraid! I have faced other monsters before. Now let me face these! I will slay them all!”

  Luskag turned his eyes to Erixitl, his face an expressionless mask. The revelation of the Sunstone had sent him and his people to her; now, it was clear, he would follow her decision in the matter before them.

  Tabub and his diminutive warriors, in the meantime, looked to Halloran. He alone would make the choice that would send them into battle or not.

  Erixitl sighed and went to her husband, taking his hand in both of hers and holding it. They didn’t speak for several moments as he looked down at his wife, suddenly afraid. She was full and round with child, and a freshness had returned to her face now that they had left the dry country behind. Halloran thought of their peaceful march and the quiet moments they had enjoyed in the forest along the way.

  But always there was the thought of the obstacles before them, and now they came upon the people of their friend, in need of help. There was no choice to be made, really; instead, they simply needed a few moments to grasp the one course of action they could take.

  “Gultec crossed half of Maztica to come to us after the Night of Wailing. He led us to the fertile desert,” Hal said softly as Erixitl nodded. Still, the images of horror in his mind caused by the insect army described by the Itza affected him deeply.

  “You must stay here,” he continued firmly. “I’ll take the desert dwarves and the Little People. We’ll head up toward the pass and see if we can get there in time.”

  “You have to go, I know,” said Erixitl quietly, but with equal firmness. “So you can understand that so, too, do I.”

  His objection died on his lips, for she was right. He really “id understand.

  Don Vaez entered Ulatos, with full martial pomp, at the head of a marching column of more than fifteen hundred men. Nearly a hundred of these rode prancing chargers and they led the way. The citizens of the city, the greatest metropolis in the lands of the Payit, turned out to stare at the spectacle.

  Ulatos stood out proudly from a flat, coastal savannah The wide grassland supported many fields of mayz, as well as small villages near the fringes of the city. But the city itself was the dominant feature of the land.

  Tall, colorful pyramids rose throughout. Wide streets, some even paved with stone, separated its buildings. Many of the buildings themselves were made of stone, and even the adobe structures were meticulously whitewashed. Green gardens filled the gaps between many of the structures, and the city was lined with cool bathing pools. Flowers burst in chaotic abundance from bushes that grew at every street corner.

  Now all the people from this mighty city gathered along the widest street, an avenue that led directly to the central plaza, where stood the tallest pyramids and the biggest houses. They stood in silence and awe, standing well back from the path of the approaching marchers.

  Never had they seen such an awe-inspiring sight! Cordell, at full strength, had brought a mere forty horses and five hundred men.

  Now they saw that many crossbowmen alone, followed by several hundred harquebusiers. The latter demonstrated their weapons in the center of the city square, stopping sharply and wheeling left at their captain’s command..

  They raised the heavy weapons, each loaded with a full charge of powder-though no shot-and fired a thunderous volley. The report fell like a crash of thunder across the crowd, and the accompanying clouds of smoke instantly concealed the soldiers from view. They smartly faced right and resumed their march, emerging from the cloud with their weapons again braced over their right shoulders. J

  Many of the Payits fell back in terror from the explosion more impressive than anything Cordell had shown them.

  Then they slowly crept back to watch the grand spectacle.

  Don Vaez himself, in a blaze of silken color and long, silver-blond curls, rode a white stallion. The creature reared and trotted, lunging this way and that, as the proud rider led his army through the city’s grand square.

  Beside him rode Pryat Devane, and the cleric’s mode of transport impressed the Payits even more than did his commander’s. The cleric of Helm sat cross-legged upon a thin, floating piece of cloth, like a litter of pluma, only much smaller. As the flying carpet darted about, the Mazticans saw that the flight of this foreigner was far faster and more controlled titan any gentle floating of feathermagic.

  The priest of Helm looked disdainfully at the savages around him, for he had inherited his mentor’s revulsion toward things Maztican. Indeed, the hatred Bishou Domincus had held for these barbarians and their bloodthirsty gods was one of the primary drives in Devane’s determination to follow in the Bishou’s footsteps. Now he enjoyed the sensation of his own superiority, and he darted the carpet back and forth to terrify and awe the onlooking Mazticans.

  All around them were the pyramids, clean structures, many brightly painted, that had once been dedicated to the glory of Maztican gods. Since the city’s fall to Cordell, worship of those gods had been banned from public ceremony, though many citizens doubtlessly continued to worship them in private. Instead of the old temples, statues, and altars that once had honored their heights, the banner displaying the All-Seeing Eye of Helm fluttered from each pyramid.

  Caxal, once proud Revered Counselor of Ulatos, had been reduced to a spokesman for the conquered after the battle with the Golden Legion. Now he stepped hesitantly forward to meet this new general, wondering if the nightmare his life had become now grew even darker.

  Greetings, Silver One,” he said in common-speech. He used the term that the Mazticans had created for Don Vaez after they had seen the care he took with his shining locks“ And who are you?” asked the commander.

  “Your humble servant, Caxal, spokesman for these folk of

  Ulatos. Have you come to aid our conqueror, the captain-general?”

  Don Vaez evaded the question. “Where is the captain general now? Do you know?”

  “He journeyed to Nexal, Silver One, many months ago. There he intended to confront the great Naltecona. There he shall win his greatest victory!”

  “Splendid!”
replied the rider, with a tight smile. “And when he returns here, I shall be waiting to… reward’ him.”

  The houses of Kultaka City stood empty as the streets resounded to the steady cadence of the vast, brutal army. Hoxitl’s column marched into the abandoned community, but well aware of the monstrous advance, the Kultakans had fled into the surrounding hills some days earlier.

  Had their army been here, the courageous people might have stood against the onslaught. But the Kultakan force had accompanied Cordell to Nexal and had now been driven far to the south, beyond even knowledge-not to mention rescue-of their homeland.

  The great colossus of Zaltec now led the army, and the humans fled from his image in terror whenever it loomed imminent. Hoxitl walked just behind the towering monolith! though his twenty-foot height was dwarfed by the size of Zaltec. The slavering beasts of the Viperhand followed tattle tracks of both monstrous forms.

  Ogres and ores smashed through the doors of houses, seeking whatever foodstuffs had been left behind. Objects of gold and silver, plus the few weapons left in the city’s armory, fell into the hands of the brutal invaders.

  The trolls scrambled up the stairs of the city’s pyramids, plundering the temples for their objects of value. All of the creatures sought human victims, but there were none to be found.

  For the first time, as they pillaged the abandoned city, the creatures of the Viperhand began to work in the units that

  Hoxitl had begun to designate. They divided the city into sections, and each area became the property of a great regiment of ores, accompanied by its masters, the ogres. The beasts took a savage joy in working in such brutal teams, and Hoxitl began to instill in them the discipline to remain together in their regiments on the march and in battle.

  Finally, after only a few hours of rampaging, Hoxitl summoned the creatures before him once again.

  “Creatures of the Viperhand!” The cleric-beast’s voice rolled through the great square, a deep and rumbling command. “We shall not tarry here. Our true target lies on the coast. Only there we will confront our destiny!”

  The beasts formed into ranks for their long march, exhorted by their master’s commands. Their brutish faces turned once again to the east, and they started on the long leg of the march that would take them to Payit and Twin Visages.

  Before them, as always, lumbered the monstrous monolith of Zaltec. The great stone image had come to represent a mountain of strength to these creatures, and behind an image so mighty, so obviously unstoppable, it’s no wonder that they felt a savage sense of invulnerability. Each of their leader’s footsteps caused the earth to tremble, and the numbers of his army swelled and pressed forward, ready to kill for their master’s pleasure.

  Poshtli sensed a change in the ‘s flight as Qotal veered to the side, or coursed downward-or somehow altered his direction. Always that accursed ether surrounded them, and the warrior had no sense of direction or bearing.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  A summons-a plea, rumbled the great dragon. Someone calls me.

  “Who?”

  It is one of great power, great wisdom, else I should not be able to hear.

  “Can you tell where he is?” Poshtli tried to see through the gray haze, but as always there was nothing there.

  In the True World. I cannot go to him, hut I can let him feel my power. The dragon’s thoughts contained determination and regret.

  “To help him? How, if you cannot go back there?”

  He channels my power through himself.

  “Is this a way for you to return? Can Erixitl, perhaps, bring you back this way?”

  It is not a return, but a projection of power, and it entails dangers of its own. The Daughter of the Plume could per. haps reach me thus, but I would not ask it.

  “Why not?”

  Because such a transfer is not without cost-indeed, the cost is tremendously high.

  “What is the cost?” asked Poshtli, though he began to suspect.

  ft is nothing short of the life of the caller. The dragon began to dive.

  Gultec stared in dismay at the climbing insects. A thousand or more of the giant ants lay at the cliff base, killed or broken beyond further menace. But those that still lived far outnumbered the slain, and the Itza warriors’ weaponry had been all but exhausted.

  Now they picked up their macas, their spears, their clubs, and their knives. They had no more missiles to cast or to roll, so they could only stand to meet the onslaught with their courage and their strength.

  Slowly, distracted by thoughts of his own failure, the Jaguar Knight passed his eyes over the brave warriors who stood with him here at the pass. They knew now that then was no hope, yet none wavered or fled.

  “Men of Tulom-Itzi, you make me proud,” he whisperedGultec… hear me well, my son.

  The voice came into his mind, though no sound had been carried on the wind. Instinctively he looked to Zochimaloc,

  still seated upon the high rock outcrop in the center of the pass. The old man was a great distance away, perhaps two hundred paces, and dust from the rockslide still drifted thickly through the air.

  Yet Zochilmaloc’s eyes hovered before Gultec’s face, so clear that the warrior felt he should have been able to touch his mentor’s face.

  “What is it, Grandfather?” he asked quietly, understanding without question that his teacher could hear.

  Take the warriors now. Fall back down the valley, toward the rest of the people.

  “But that is folly! Here is the only place to fight them- here, at the crest of the pass. Perhaps we cannot win, but here we can make them pay for our deaths!”

  Hear me and obey, ordered Zochimaloc, his voice thrumming with uncharacteristic strength. This is my command, and it shall be the last J ever give to you.

  “What do you mean?” Suddenly Gultec feared for the wise man, his teacher and mentor. Why did he give such a rash order? What could he hope to gain by resuming flight? Surely he understood that the folk of Tulom-Itzi could not flee forever!

  Go.

  The final word, sent with such a quiet air of confidence, and a hint of sadness as well, removed from Gultec any further desire to argue. The Jaguar Knight raised his hand in a single, sharp gesture, the signal to retreat. He was surprised to note that all the warriors along the ridgetop seemed to be watching him, as if they had sensed his internal debate with their chief.

  But unhesitatingly they turned to obey Gultec’s order. swiftly, silently, the men of Tulom-Itzi fell back from the Pass and left Zochimaloc there alone.

  The Jaguar Knight was the last to go. As the ants crept steadily up the sloping wall of the high pass, he cast an imploring look at the old man who meant so much to him. But Zochimaloc paid him no more attention.

  Slowly Gultec stumbled away nearly sick with grief. Why did his teacher have to remain? He, Gultec, was the warrior-he was the one who should die before the onslaught of their enemies.

  Then the Jaguar Knight fell a strange stirring in the ground below his feet. Zochimaloc remained immobile, sitting cross-legged atop his promontory of rock.

  The chief of the Itza raised both of his hands over his head. He uttered a strange, ululating cry.

  Then Gultec felt the power in the air, and it was the power of Zochimaloc. But it was also the power of the Feathered Dragon

  From the chronicles of Coton:

  Encounters in the wilds, and our future course remains beneath a shroud.

  They have gone, now, to the aid of Gultec and the Itza warriors.

  Halloran and Erixitl, fearing for their friend, Gultec… Jhatli, once again thrilling to the promise of battle… Daggrande, Luskag, and the dwarves, because there is another job to do… and even the Little People, because their Lord Halloran goes.

  Lotil and I remain here, with the Itza, and we learn of their trials and terrors. It is a tale that seems all too familiar, for in a sense it is the tale of the Nexala, of all Maztica. We humans see our land taken from us, given over to the ra
mpaging of evil. Everywhere we are driven from our homes, pursued and slaughtered.

  But suddenly now, like a flash of pure lightning through a dark, cloudy night, 1 sense him. Qotal is near! His power is a bolt of hope penetrating the True World.

  And it strikes very close.

  16

  VICTORY AND VENGEANCE

  “They gain the summit!” cried Hittok. Along with the other driders, he stood with Darien in the valley bottom, looking upward at the ants creeping steadily toward the rounded, rocky crest. The creatures of Lolth had witnessed the attack of their army, had seen it weather the heaviest defenses the humans could muster.

  Impassively they had watched their soldiers slain by the hundreds. They had seen the march up the mountainside slowed by the deluge of arrows and rocks. Imperturbably they had observed the dust cloud that cloaked the slope, obscuring the ants from their sight. Then they had seen the dust fall away, and were not surprised when the ants appeared. still numerous and still steadily ascending.

  True, a great number of ants had fallen during the attack, especially to the destructive power of the man-made rockslide. Yet more than half the ants survived, and they represented more than enough power to overwhelm the last mortal line of resistance.

  The driders remained behind, at the fringe of jungle before the swamp. They watched the army advance and anticipated its inevitable triumph. They didn’t shout or cheer, yet each drider’s eyes blazed with a frightening intensity, like the wicked gleam of a cat before it crushes the life from the hapless mouse.

  “Indeed, they have done as I expected,” Darien said quietly. Hittok looked at his pale-skinned companion. Why did she not share his triumphant joy?

  “Do you feel that?” Darien asked, her voice a harsh whisper. The white drider settled her great body to the ground, cowering as if in fear.

  “What? What do you mean?” the black drider asked.

  She didn’t reply. Instead, she kept her eyes fixed upon the summit of the pass. The six-legged insects continued to work their way up the wall, the first rank already disappearing from sight.