Feathered Dragon mt-3

by Douglas Niles

  Kardann groped his way through the tangled forest, propelled only by fear-fear of what lay behind him. AH of his nightmares, all the terrors that Maztica had aroused in him in the past, seemingly endless months were as nothing compared to the dread in which he now held Cordell.

  Didn’t he see? Couldn’t the captain-general understand? Kardann was loyal to the merchant princes of Amn. They had hired him, he had responsibilities’. Now, Don Vaez was clearly the duly appointed representative of those worthy nobles. Kardann’s loyalty belonged to him, not Cordell!

  Yet truly Kardann realized that Cordell would never understand. Just when it had seemed his nightmare was about to end, when the actual prospect of sailing home again loomed before him, catastrophe had to strike.

  Indeed, Don Vaez had promised to send the assessor home on the first ship, with the shipment of gold they had been about to unearth. Then somehow the treacherous Cordell had escaped, and Kardann’s future became a ruined shambles. Don Vaez’s men had turned to the new commander with no thought toward legalities or even common decency!

  What was the matter with those men, anyway? How could they renounce an oath of loyalty and accept a new commander in the middle of a campaign? But such they had done.

  Immediately Kardann had understood that the new organization would have no place for him, or if it did, that place might well be found at the end of a rope. Without thinking, he had fled from the fortress, from the eager hands of fickle soldiery suddenly so anxious to do Cordell’s bidding.

  So now he found himself in this infernal, eternal jungle. He pressed forward, cursing as thorns pricked his hands but not slowing his pace as his robes were slowly torn away. All he could think of, all that drove him now, was the thought of getting as far as possible from the madman who now commanded Helmsport.

  Ether had assumed the dimensions of infinity to Poshtli. For a timeless era-an entire lifetime of a man, for all he knew-he had ridden the shoulders of the god Qotal. Bright plumage surrounded him, softly cushioning and comfortably warm. His body craved neither food nor drink.

  Yet still the god remained little more to him than a great transport, carrying him across the worlds, yet conveying little of his mission or his might.

  Indeed, Poshtli had begun to sense that the god needed little from humans, save that they open the passage for him again to return to the world. Once he reached Maztica, however, Qotal would feel no compulsion to heed the pleas of his worshipers. They were puny mortals to him, and as such, beneath his cosmic concerns.

  But now Poshtli sensed a nearness again, a form of substance somewhere, not too distant, but still invisible within the ethereal fog. For just once, briefly, that mist parted.

  He saw revealed before him a shore of verdant green surrounding a small, lichen-encrusted pyramid. Below the pyramid, on a high, seaward bluff, two faces gazed impassively outward. And then Poshtli understood.

  They looked seaward, and they searched for the return of the God.

  The week following Cordell’s usurpation of command passed quickly. Erixitl remained comatose, and nothing that anyone among the Mazticans or the foreigners could do seemed capable of provoking any kind of response.

  Chical and the eagles maintained a steady vigil over the approaching monsters and the huge stone god that led them. The miles passed quickly beneath their footsteps, and all in Helmsport and Ulatos felt growing fear as word of the

  inevitably approaching mass reached the city.

  It was early in the morning, seven days after Cordell’s victory, that Chical once again glided to the earth within Helm-sport and quickly shifted back to his human form The captain-general already stood before him, summoned by guards who had seen Chical approaching and who knew how eagerly Cordell awaited this important report.

  “They are very close now,” Chical reported. “They no longer march as an untamed horde. They have been trained into an army.”

  “When will they get here?” Cordell asked.

  Chical looked at the sun, just rising above the eastern horizon. “I would guess sometime today, perhaps as early as noon if they press on as vigorously as they have been.”

  “No need to lighten their pace now,” growled the commander. “Not when they’re this close. Is there any word from the city about Erixitl?” he inquired.

  “No change,” reported the eagle, who had stopped at Ulatos before coming to the fort.

  Cordell grimaced. He didn’t know why he placed so much hope in the recovery of this young woman. There certainly seemed to be no rational reason for it. Yet after these long months in Maztica, coming so close to ultimate victory only to have it changed, by the caprice of the gods, to complete catastrophe, Cordell had begun to think differently about the world-He knew that Pryat Devane had worked his best magic upon Erix, yet the man had returned to Helmsport in failure. He hadn’t understood the affliction that assailed her, though he had predicted that it would wear off in time. Bui too he had sensed a greatness, a power in the young woman, that had clearly awed him.

  While Erixitl remained unconscious, there seemed little that they could do except plan to make war on the horde of monsters that marched inexorably closer. This Cordell and his new army had spent the last week doing.

  His new soldiers accepted his command enthusiastically, and quickly began preparations for the battle that Don Vaez hadn’t believed was possible. That captain now languished

  *.he same cell that had held Cordell. Though the captain-general fully intended to free his rival when they both returned to Amn, he had no intention of doing so prematurely. Fortunately even Don Vaez’s most loyal officers had proved remarkably willing to accept Cordell’s leadership- Now they toiled in the service of their new commander with more diligence and military bearing than ever they had given the old.

  Cordell had reviewed the men, finding that he commanded a well-balanced force, though several of the companies had had little experience in actual battle. Others, however, consisted of mercenaries who had served him before-men such as the guard, Millston-and these men he knew he could trust implicitly.

  The harquebuses were weapons that Cordell had never before utilized. Still, when the men provided a demonstration of the loud, smoke-spewing weapons, he felt that they might prove useful in delaying or arresting an enemy charge. He was dismayed, however, with the long time required before the weapons could be readied for a second volley. In actual battle, it seemed that the harquebusiers would be likely to gel off one shot, then would have to fall back or rely on their short swords to keep them alive.

  Finally, the captain-general was pleased to discover that the merchants had sent a team of young magic-users to aid in Don Vaez’s expedition. Two dozen in number, they would prove very useful, he felt certain. Though none of them even began to approach the power of his own onetime ally and lover, the elf-mage Darien, the power of even minor spells could sometimes prove decisive.

  The twenty-five carracks, of course, remained at sea on their mission. Privately, now, Cordell had come to doubt whether they could reach the Sea of Azul, pick up the remaining legionnaires and the Kultakan warriors, and return in time to make a difference.

  He would have to stand with the forces that he had. Even with the addition of Don Vaez’s men and the archers of Far Payit, plus the desert dwarves and the halflings, he had fewer than four thousand men. He would gain perhaps an

  equal number of spearmen from the Pay it city of Ulatos, but this still seemed like a small force whim facing an army of thirty thousand savage ores and their even more powerful masters.

  Cordell looked back to the city, its pyramids standing out proudly above the savannah. He thought of the woman nearly bursting with her child, who slumbered comatose there.

  “Wake up, Erix,” Cordell whispered softly. It was very close to a prayer.

  The Lord of the Jaguars roamed restlessly his belly growling with the hunger that had been his constant companion for all the weeks since he had fled the village of the Little People. Curse th
at foul human and his sorcery! The cat snarled at the memory of that horrible night.

  The growling predator remembered his life among the halflings with fondness. Food had not been plentiful, for it was only rarely that they caught one of the Big People, but they had thrown him wild game during times when there were no captives. Never had he had to work for his meals Instead, he could sleep for days on end, which was truly the way the Lord of the Jaguars preferred to spend his time.

  Of course, never would the ancient, once-powerful beast admit that the man had been right, that the Lord of the Jaguars was indeed too old, too slow to kill in the wilds. Yet, unfortunately, that had proven to be the case. Despite his shrewd intellect, equal or superior to a human’s, and his great size and long, sharp teeth, the predator had been unable to kill anything for himself save an occasional rodent or snake.

  Now he growled again, for never had be been so hungry. And he craved real food now, red meat, with the juices of the kill still flowing. Pacing the forest paths restlessly, he traveled far in search of a kill. Sometimes, seething with frustration, he spoke aloud in the human voice that had proven so hypnotically frightening to his victims.

  The cat-lord’s travels had taken him far to the north of his home among the Little People. Food had been scarce there, and he had hoped that this country-the land of the Payits, he knew-would prove more fruitful. Thus far he had been disappointed.

  Yet still he kept prowling and searching. Sometime soon, he knew, he would have to make a kill.

  The quarry at the end of her quest now compelled Darien into a quivering eagerness. She sensed it even as the hunting cat senses the weakness of the crippled fawn, and it provoked a similar quickening in her hunger.

  The driders followed her, now, in resigned deference to her commands. They dragged themselves through the forest, ignoring the demands of hunger and thirst. Several collapsed, perishing slowly and left by their stronger kin.

  Still, fifteen of the monsters remained alive as, at last, their goal emerged from the forest before them.

  The pyramid at Twin Visages stood in the center of a wide clearing. At one side of the open area, to the north, a sheer bluff dropped precipitously toward the shoreline and its coral lagoon below. Three sides of the clearing fronted on the jungle.

  And from the jungle emerged the driders, waiting for the coming of twilight to creep forward. They spread out, cautiously encircling the structure, nervously sniffing and searching for any sign of a trap. Nothing unnatural disturbed the calm of the forest night.

  Finally they surrounded the structure and then hesitantly climbed the fifty-two steps that led to its crowning platform-No sound emerged from the forest as the stars slowly winked into sight above The moon, half full, cast its dry light across the driders, leaving faint shadows.

  “We are here,” said Hittok, with a tired bow toward his mistress. “What do we do now?”

  “Now-“ said Darien, with a look toward the forest and

  what lay beyond, “now we wait for our quarry to come to us.”

  As the drider settled into a crouch, she relaxed, her tension dissipating for the first time in weeks. And with her easing came the breaking of hishna. Through the air, over the short distance between Twin Visages and Ulatos, Darien sent the sundering of her spell.

  Now she was prepared to meet her enemy.

  “What happened? Where am I?” Erixitl asked weakly as her eyes fluttered open and she saw Halloran seated beside her bed.

  For a moment, he could not speak, so great was his joy and relief. “This is Ulatos,” he said finally. “The temple of Qotal. By the gods, Erix, 1 was so afraid…” His voice faded, choking.

  “Shhh,” she urged, sitting up slowly. “No harm could come to me as long as you were here to watch over me.” She squinted in concentration, trying to think. “I remember a horrible darkness settling around me, dragging me down and holding me there. It’s gone, now-finally.”

  Suddenly her eyes widened. “Finally! How long has it been?”

  “It has been ten days since I have seen your eyes,” he replied, his voice tight. He blinked several times and took her hand in his.

  Fear flamed in Erix’s eyes. “We’ve got to go-to get to Twin Visages!” She struggled to get up as he tried gently to ease her back onto her pillow.

  “You need to rest!” he said. “The baby-“

  She pushed him back with surprising vitality and sat facing him. “The baby will come with me. We must go now! Who knows how much time we have!”

  “The army of the Viperhand will be here soon-probably today, according to Chical,” Halloran went on. “The eagles have been observing it all along.”

  “And what will happen then?” Erix gasped. “There will be battle, and the Little Men, the desert dwarves, Gultec’s warriors, they’ll all be killed!”

  “There are fifteen hundred men-at-arms from Amn here, too,” Hal pointed out. “And Cordell has sent the ships to collect the rest of his men and the Kultakans.” Hal admitted privately that the latter forces had little chance of debarking before the issue would be resolved.

  “But Zaltec is with them. And he’s the one who can stop Qotal. We have to get to Twin Visages-now, today!”

  Jhatli, summoned from a nearby room within the temple, quickly agreed. The youth went to get his proudest possession, a steel short sword given him by Cordell from the arsenal of weapons brought by Don Vaez’s expedition.

  Coton stepped forward, and there was no question but that the priest of Qotal should accompany them. Daggrande was with the legionnaires in the fortress, commanding a company of crossbow and harquebus and helping Cordell to integrate the Maztican troops into the tactics of the Sword Coast-Then Lotil, his feather blanket nearing completion, emerged from his room. His blunt fingers, as always, worked traces of plumage into the fine mesh of cotton.

  “1 will come, too,” he said.

  Halloran started to open his mouth in objection, to plea with the blind man that such a gesture merely endangered Lotil’s own life. But he stopped, feeling Erix’s touch on his arm.

  “Of course. Father,” she said. “You shall accompany us.”

  For more than a week after leaving Kultaka, Hoxitl had pushed his monstrous horde with maniacal frenzy. They marched along the coast, following the wide track laid down by the lumbering, monstrous form of Zaltec. The giant stone image appeared to take no note of the thousands of creatures following in its wake, but this, to Hoxitl, was as it should be.

  Finally they pressed along the shore toward Ulatos, knowing that just beyond lay the culmination of the Payit lands, the point of Twin Visages.

  The army of the Viperhand marched grimly now, a hardened edge marking troops that had pursued the Nexalans a ragged, bloodthirsty mob.

  The ogres had assumed complete control over the ores, and the entire force was organized into companies comprising five to ten ogres commanding a hundred ores. Hundreds of these companies formed the thirty great regiments, each regiment consisting of one thousand ores and their ogre officers and two companies of ten bloodthirsty, regenerating trolls.

  Hoxitl, towering over even the tallest of his trolls, ruled this army with an iron hand. The most savage of his troops cringed when the cleric-beast raised his hand. The most veteran and trail-worn of his companies puffed with pride when he praised their appearance or their acts.

  And before them marched the great, imposing form of their god. Zaltec was capable of crushing a row of houses in one monstrous footstep. In a few hours, he could reduce a city to rubble. If any doubts assailed the cleric-beast, they concerned what use such a mighty deity would have for any army, however toughened and well organized.

  The great force moved through the Payit country, driving the inhabitants in panic before them. Thus, when they approached the Payit city of Ulatos, word of their approach was sure to precede them.

  Still, when they reached the savannah before that city, it gave Zaltec joy to see the enemy arrayed to meet him. The sun had long sinc
e risen and climbed high into the morning sky. The humans and their allies had advanced into the wide savannah, anchoring their position on a pair of small villages.

  The beasts of the Viperhand saw them and prepared to a tack.

  “By Helm, look at the size of that thing!” Cordell gasped astonishment and dismay. He stood, with Daggrande an.

  Grimes, atop the rampart of Helmsport, looking over the forest to the west and watching the steady, unhurried approach of the monstrous statue“ We’ll never be able to stand against it,” Grimes said matter-of-factly.

  “Erixitl must get to that pyramid,” Daggrande added. “It’s the only hope we have. We might be able to hold out against the monsters, but you’re right, Grimes-there’s nothing we can do about the big fellow.”

  “When did they leave?” Cordell asked.

  “An hour ago, no more,” admitted the dwarf. “It’ll take them most of the afternoon to get there.” The giant form of the god, they knew, could cover the distance in a fraction of that time.

  The great monolith marched to the edge of the forest, but then it paused. The trees of the jungle came only to its waist, and its gray, impassive eyes stared to the east, in apparent unconcern for the army that gathered on the savannah before it. The watchers could not see, but they sensed, the monstrous army gathering around the statue’s feet, spreading along the edge of the forest, staying within the concealment of the verdant canopy.

  The giant remained impassive, still staring. If It suffered any impatience, no clue was visible across the craggy, granite features of its face. It no doubt knew that the true goal of its quest lay just a short distance beyond the bothersome humans arrayed before it, humans who were beneath the notice of one so magnificent, so unstoppable.

  But still it waited.

  Kardann collapsed into a sobbing, miserable heap. He had fled for days through this miserable forest, surviving on the few pieces of fruit he could find, cringing and fleeing at every sound. Finally he knew he had reached the end of his endurance.