Feathered Dragon

14

Halloran placed one arm around Erixitl’s shoulders and moved himself between her and the source of the rumbling growl. He felt very conscious of the baby within her and terribly vulnerable in his own unarmed state. He was determined to die before allowing harm to reach Erix.

The couple stared across the darkened pit, and slowly their eyes adjusted to the dim light. The stoutly barred door remained closed, but again they saw shadowy movement beyond it.

Then that resonant growl rolled through the pit again.

“It’s opening!” Erix gasped. They saw the barred door rise slowly, and then the black shape beyond it crept forward with an oily smooth motion. Ft crept toward them, slowly moving away from the shadows around the wall of the pit. As it reached the center of the enclosure, they saw its sleek black pelt, its ears laid back along a broad, flat skull.

“A black jaguar!” Hal hissed, shocked at the horribly menacing visage of the great cat. Its yellow eyes burned through the darkness like glowing spots of hellfire, while its jaws gaped open just enough to reveal long, wickedly curved fangs. The animal’s shoulders equaled Hal’s waist in height, even as the creature crouched. It stared unblinking, the dark tail flicking hack and forth in excitement.

“Its too huge. It can’t be a jaguar!” Erix objected, though she couldn’t imagine what else menaced them in this night-mare pit.

“There are other great cats in the world-tigers, lions, even more horrible things like displacer beasts,” Hal whispered, desperately seeking a plan of action. “Maybe it’s something like that.”

“I am the Lord of the Jaguars.”

For a moment, the voice shocked them into stillness. It flowed with oily smoothness, yet it contained traces of the deep growl that had already raised their hackles in fear. The great cat blinked, and Halloran swore those jaws twisted upward into a horrible caricature of a smile.

“I am the Lord of the Jaguars, and you are mine.”

“It talks!" Hal hissed. He tried to shield Erixitl, staring into that monstrous, leering face.

“I talk. I talk before I kill.”

“Who-what are you?” Erixitl demanded. “Why do the Little People keep you here?”

“I stay because I choose to stay,” rumbled the black beast. “They do not keep me. No one keeps me!”

“Why do you choose to threaten us, then?” Halloran asked. “We offer you no harm.”

“No one offers me harm,” sneered the cat. “I desire your blood and your flesh. It pleases me that you shall die to feed me.”

Halloran’s mind raced. Stunned by the bizarre communication with an animal that belonged among the beasts of the forest, he sought a way to argue or reason with the creature.

“Are you old and feeble, so that you cannot hunt for your self’” he asked.

“Silence!” The jaguar lord’s voice shook the air around them, a roar of command.

“I will not be silent!” Hal barked back. “Why do you depend on them for food? Why do you live in a cage? That’s no life for a lord!”

The force of the creature’s roar slammed into his face like a physical blow, hurling him back against Erixitl. Quickly he stepped forward, his jaw jutting belligerently. He stared in challenge at the monster, aggressively raising his clenched hands.

Then his attention faded and his eyes grew heavy. Halloran felt an almost overpowering urge to sleep.

“What-what’s happening?” asked Erix softly from behind him, “I… feel so… tired.” Her voice faded to a soft whisper. He felt her slump against the wall of the pit and sink slowly toward the ground.

Before them, the Lord of the Jaguars grinned his evil grin. Hal stared at those yellow eyes and thought for a moment that they no longer seemed so threatening. Indeed, they were gentle now, their look caressing him like the kiss of sunlight on a warm summer day.

“Sleep, insolent human,” hissed the great cat. “Stare into my eyes and rest.”

Halloran shook his head angrily, realizing that something was very wrong. But what? Now he had a hard time forcing his mind to work, as if a thick and cloying fog permeated his skull. He didn’t dare sleep, with this savage beast ready to attack! Or was it savage, after all? Now it seemed benign to him, like an old friend.

The Lord of the Jaguars took a step closer.

In the darkness of the pit, all Hal could see now were those two gleaming eyes. Erixitl groaned softly as she sprawled on the ground behind him. He couldn’t break his eyes away to look at her.

“See how the woman sleeps? She knows peace now.” The creature’s voice remained silky smooth, gentle and friendly. “You must rest, too.”

“No!” Halloran marshaled all of his will, suddenly twisting his gaze away from that deadly stare. He had to do something! Think, man!

All around him pressed that grim darkness. The bright eyes remained the only source of illumination, tugging at his will, compelling him to look back into their light. Suddenly the night seemed as much an enemy as the great cat. He had to drive that enemy away. The yellow eyes of the jaguar called to his memory, wide and staring, penetrating the darkness with their large, dilated pupils.

The memory of a spell came to him, and he acted without thought.

“Kirisha!” he shouted, turning back to the leering, monstrous face. He pointed as he cast, and a magical ball of light appeared in the air. Instantly it expanded to a white brightness, and it hung directly before the creature’s eyes. Above, the illumination blossomed out of the pit, and he heard the gasps of the Little People around them.

With a shrill cry of rage and terror, the jaguar sprang back. Its howls rent the night, silencing the jungle around the village. The pit stood outlined in the clear illumination of the light spell, brighter than a dozen torches.

“Demon!” spat the beast. “What manner of man are you? You shall pay for this outrage!”

Halloran saw that the jaguar blinked and shook its head, all the while growling and snarling. But now there was an element in those cries that had not been there before-an element of fear.

Above him, he heard the excited jabbering of the Little People. None of them ventured forward to look into the pit, but he plainly heard their cries of alarm and confusion.

“Good!” he hissed to himself. “Maybe that’ll shake up their confidence a bit.”

Erixitl moaned again, still on the ground behind him Keeping a wary eye on the cat, Halloran crouched down and helped her to lean against the wall of the pit.

Then the cat growled, and once again the creature’s voice throbbed with anger and power. Its fear had become tension, and it crouched and stared, its black tail swishing back and forth in agitation. Hal sensed it working up the nerve to attack.

“You seek to defeat me with simple tricks?” The Lord of the Jaguars shrilled his rage, a snarl of bestial fury. “For this you will die slowly. You will watch me devour your woman before you perish!”

“You’re an old hornless goat, not fit to be lord of anything!” Hal snarled back. “You’re not fit to be a servant of toads!” Too weak to hunt for your own food! You seek to defeat us with magic because you are the one who is afraid! Your fangs rot! Flee back to your hole, craven one!”

For a moment, he wondered if he might be right. Indeed the monstrous feline still crouched, staring. He saw long, wickedly curved claws extend from its forefeet. Desperately he wished for a weapon. His mind raced through the few other spells he knew. None of them, he realized, had

any hope of halting a creature of this size and power. Still, in his desperation, he sought any tactic, any thing that might help him against the nightmarish beast. Then the monster pounced.

“They have moved into Helmsport. Your men, the ones you left there, have been imprisoned in one of the huts.” Chical explained the results of his reconnaissance to Cordell as the two men rested beside a quiet pool. Around them, the horses eagerly lapped at the water while the legionnaires and other eagles prepared for an evenings rest.

“What about the commander? Did you see their leader?” Cordell asked, angry and perplexed by the news.

Chical shrugged. “I do not know how to tell your leaders. You do not wear the feathers of rank such as does a general of the True World.”

Beside them, Kardann looked up anxiously. “They come from Amn, I tell you!” he warned. “Because we sent no messages back-no tribute! If you had listened to me-“

“Be silent!” Cordell barked, and the pudgy assessor quickly obeyed. “I need to think!”

“It would seem that they do not come to aid you,” observed the Eagle Warrior, with no trace of irony in his tone.

“At least, their captain does not. I am certain that there is someone behind this behavior. It is not typical of soldiers from my country to thus turn on those who offer them no harm and no threat.

“There is more,” noted Chical, and the captain-general sighed.

“What?” Cordell asked, fearing the answer.

“The beasts of the Viperhand have mustered in Nexal. They begin to march from the city. Now they are led by a monstrous colossus of stone. It is a figure that walks like a man but towers as high as once did the Great Pyramid.”

Cordell cursed. “Can you tell where they’re going?”

“They march eastward, toward Kultaka-back along the route you yourself took when you marched to Nexal”

“They could be going all the way to Payit, then-to Ulatos and Helmsport?”

“Yes, naturally,” replied the Eagle Knight.

“One more question,” said the captain-general. “If we maintain our present pace, will we get there before them?”

Chical thought for a moment. “Yes, by several days at the very least-perhaps a week or more. We are already closer than they are, and I believe we move faster.”

Cordell looked frankly at the warrior who had once fought so savagely against him. “Your information is very valuable to me-more valuable than I can explain, lb have the freedom of the skies, the ability to cross the continent in a few days time and observe our enemies, is a power that any commander from my country would give very much for. I begin to think that it is one of the few advantages remaining to me-to us.”

Chical nodded. “It is a thing that an eagle does, but truly it is our greatest power”

“Thank you for accompanying me and my men,” Cordell added. “You give me some small hope, at least, of success.”

Chical shrugged. “Maztica is changing. You yourself have done much to see that the True World will never be tine; same place that it once was. But you are a brave man, and for now, anyway, we fight for the same cause.”

The Eagle Knight studied Cordell for a moment, and the general squirmed slightly under the scrutiny of those piercing black eyes. “But remember my warning. If you should again use your forces to march against the humans of the True World, you will find us united against you.”

“My friend,” said the captain-general with a sigh, “I find it much more comforting to have you on my side.”

“Then I pray that we shall remain on those terms,” said Chical. The warrior stretched and rose to his feet. “Now,” he added, “I will get some sleep. I must fly far in the morning.”

“They await us in the mountain heights,” reported Hittok The drider had skulked forward, dangerously close to rear of the fleeing Itza column, to gain his information. Fortunately the night was dark, and the drider’s vision was far more acute than any human’s under these conditions.

“They flee no longer?” Darien heard the words of her comrade, and already her mind wondered at the reasons behind the news.

The long column of ants had slowed to a crawl, as even the nearly indefatigable creatures felt the strain of the long climb and the days of ceaseless marching. The white drider allowed them to pause in this mountain valley, not so much to rest as to allow the rear of the long column to catch up. Then when she pressed ahead in the morning, she would be able to bring her entire force to bear.

“So far as I could tell” Hittok continued to detail his findings. “I saw many warriors positioned along a rocky crest that rolls across the valley. Beyond them, I did not go. It could be that, as before, the men sacrifice themselves that their women and children can escape.” Hittok’s voice showed his scorn for the tactic.

“They cannot do so for many more battles,” noted Darien grimly. “We killed more than a hundred of them the last time, when they took us by surprise. Now if they wait for us, we shall be prepared.”

“Indeed,” agreed the black drider. “The valley bottom is open before them. The ants can spread into a wave and quickly sweep up and over them”

“But they must have some plan,” countered Darien. Her alabaster features twisted into a frown. “Humans do not sacrifice themselves for no purpose.”

“Perhaps,” Hittok said with a shrug, “they only desire to die like men.”

“Perhaps,” said Darien quietly. Still, the thoughtful expression on her face as she examined the mountain height before them showed that she remained unconvinced.

“Gigantius!” shouted Halloran at the instant the Lord of Jaguars sprang. The spell of enlargement, one of the last he had learned from Darien’s spellbook, was the only enchantment that leaped into his mind. Once he had employed a potion to expand his size; now he tried to emulate that effect with a memorized enchantment.

He saw a nightmare visage of feline hatred, jaws widespread, streak toward his face. The light spell still illuminated the pit, but by now the great cat’s eyes had adjusted, and his aim was true.

Halloran met the creature’s leap with a charge of his own. His hands wrapped around the beast’s neck as all the strength in his arms and shoulders combined to hold the deadly fangs away from him.

Razor-sharp claws raked across his breastplate. The cat shrieked in rage, its powerful muscles driving its jaws slowly toward Hal’s face. He twisted, thinking only that he needed to keep the creature away from Erixitl, and the two of them rolled across the ground in the pit.

The monstrous jaguar squirmed, the claws of its hind feet scoring deep gashes in Halloran’s legs. Only the pluma cuffs at the man’s wrists saved his life, pumping strength into his grip and slowly forcing the drooling fangs back from his face.

The great cat twisted again, and Hal pushed it away, the;(force of his act shoving him back against the wall of the pit. The cat crouched, snarling, but suddenly it seemed smaller than it had before. Halloran loomed over the beast, staring down into those blazing, hate-filled eyes.

Then he realized what was happening. The spell had taken effect. Vaguely he sensed the Little People shrieking! in horror and fleeing back from the edges of the pit. Erixitl, lying against the wall at the base of the enclosure, held her hands protectively over her belly as she gaped up at him. For the first time, he saw fear in the Lord of the Jaguars’ blazing yellow eyes.

The spell increased his size, although it did not enhance his strength. Still, the pluma around his wrists and the fear and anger burning in his own heart gave him strength that he would not otherwise have possessed.

He lunged at the monstrous cat as the creature tried to spring toward Erixitl. It twisted in midair, dragging its sharp talons across Hal’s forearm and leaving cuts that quickly welled with blood, But the man stood now nearly fifteen feet tall, and he seized the monster by the scruff of its neck.

The cat howled in terror as he lifted it from the base of the pit, raising it over his head and shaking it. The pluma and his rage possessed him, made him a man mad with battle lust. With a grunt of effort, he hurled the shrieking, spitting beast from the pit, full into the faces of a pair of gaping villagers.

The little folk screamed in terror, bolting away from the horrifying apparition of the flying jaguar. The cat, itself fully terrified, landed on its feet, crouched, and sprang toward the shelter of the surrounding forest. In another instant, the black shape disappeared into the equally dark confines of the enshrouding jungle.

“Come on!” he urged, reaching down and lifting Erixitl up to the edge of the pit. His mind whirled with images of poisoned arrows, and he knew that it would be mere moments before the warriors recovered their senses enough to shoot. His size, he realized, would be no protection against the strike of one of those venomous missiles.

He sprang upward after Erixitl and then crouched beside her, trying to shield her from the natives. Where could they go? How could they get away?

Even as he groped for answers, he saw that it was too late. The area around the pit was crowded with warriors, all of them armed with the deadly darts. Bellowing in rage, he stood up and lunged forward, determined to smash a few of the archers before he died.

Then he slowed his charge, halting after a few steps to look around in puzzlement. The light spilled from the pit, clearly illuminating the painted halflings. One by one, they laid down their weapons and fell on their faces, pressing themselves to the ground in obeisance.

The one who had seemed to be the chief crawled forward. He looked up at Halloran. his face twisted by fear and grief. He moaned something, then hastily pressed his face back to the ground.

“What’s going on?” Hal wondered aloud, looking back to Erixitl. The chief, speaking to her, repeated his words in the language of Palul.

“He calls you Master,” she said, her voice full of wonder, “and begs your apology. He says that he didn’t know who you were.”

“And who does he think I am?”

“He says that you are the king, destined to lead them from the jungle-just as it was foretold in the prophecy.”

“Here-footprints beside this pool!” Luskag gestured to the ground, and Daggrande trotted over to the desert dwarf. They had traced Halloran and Erixitl’s path from the day before to this sheltered pool, where the towering waterfall spilled from the heights above.

“And here!” called Jhatli from the underbrush nearby “There are many prints, as if a group of warriors waited in ambush.”

Daggrande’s heart tripped in fear. He turned to the young] man as Jhatli looked up at him in puzzlement. “What is it, lad?”

The crossbow-wielding legionnaire, together with Jhatli and a score of desert dwarves, had followed the trail- The rest of the dwarves scoured the surrounding country, except for a few who remained guarding the camp with Lotil and Coton.

“The warriors must have been children,” lie explained. “Their feet were very small.”

In moments, the young hunter had found the path beneath the encloaking vines, and in another minute, the stair way through the rocky niche stood revealed.

“They must have gone this way, whoever they were.” Jhatli guessed.” And they probably look Halloran and Erixitl with them!” For once, the youth did not loudly proclaim his intent to attack and kill whatever enemies stood in their path. Indeed, Jhatli’s face was creased by a frown of deep, undeniable concern.

*Should we get the rest of the dwarves?” asked Luskag, with a look to Daggrande.

“Let’s go,” grunted Daggrande, hefting his shining axe. “Once we find out what we’re up against, we send for help-if we need it:” His tone, combined with the steely glint in the veteran legionnaire’s eye, gave his impression of the prospects for the latter circumstance.

Luskag and several dozen desert dwarves quickly fell into file behind them as they started up the cool, mossy passage-None of them spoke, as each focused on his own apprehensions. Daggrande silently vowed vengeance against whoever had captured his old friend, while Luskag wrestled with a deep curiosity about the diminutive footprints.

Jhatli led the way, always the alert hunter, his own bow and arrow ready for instant use. The youth wanted to bound up the stairway but forced himself to slow his pace so that the slower dwarves could keep up.

Soon they emerged into the damp glen. The well-beaten path lay before them, and though it showed no specific footprints, Jhatli ascertained with a quick inspection that their quarry had kept to the trail.

They set off at a trot, twenty-two grim warriors in search of an unknown enemy. All of them were cautious, but none were afraid.

“Hsst!” Jhatli paused with a whispered warning, raising his hand and shrinking into the underbrush beside the trail. Instantly the desert dwarves followed suit. “Someone comes,” the young hunter told Daggrande.

They stared at the trail before them, and soon the sound of steady footfalls-many of them-reached their ears. They heard, too, the hum of animated conversation.

They’re not trying to sneak through the woods, whoever they are,” Daggrande hissed. He checked his weapon and Raised the heavy crossbow to draw a bead on the trail before them. A second later, he lowered it in surprise and relief. “Hal!” he shouted, springing to his feet. The desert Dwarves and Jhatli quickly followed suit. Halloran, accompanied by Erixitl, looked up in surprise. The pair had been walking easily down the jungle trail, in apparent unconcern of danger. The crossbowman saw movement behind his friend, but he couldn’t see who was there.

“Daggrande. you old griffon’s tail! What are you doing out here?” The man raced forward to embrace his companion.

“Looking for you!” sputtered the dwarf. “What do you think I’m doing! And who are they?”

He gestured toward the file of small warriors, still painted in black and red, who followed Halloran and Erixitl down the trail. The man turned with a flourish, indicating the leading warrior.

“Captain Daggrande. meet Chief Tabub of the Little People.”

Erixitl repeated the introduction in Payit, while Daggrande looked back at Halloran with raised eyebrows.

“They are my warriors,” said Hal, with just a him of a smile, “and our newest marching partners on the road to Twin Visages.”