Feathered Dragon - Douglas Niles [10]
Realms but Halloran smoothly translated his speech into Nexalan. A rumble of concern rippled through the gathering until Erixitl raised her hand.
“How far away?” she asked.
“Still four or five days,” replied the captain-general. “But they march swiftly. Their columns extend to the east and west, barring our flight in those directions.”
“Stand and fight them here, then!” growled Totoq, a grizzled Jaguar Knight. A chorus of assenting voices joined him.
“Wait.” Gultec, also dressed in the spotted skin of a veteran Jaguar Knight, lifted his hand. Though not a man of the Nexala, his steadiness on the long flight had earned him the respect of the others.
“What is it? Have we not waited too much already?” demanded Kilti, a young Eagle Warrior.
“Gultec counsels wisdom,” Halloran added. “We have already exhausted most of the food here. True, we could establish a strong defense with a four-day delay, but what will we eat before and after the battle?”
“We must move south,” Erix stated with finality.
“It is the will of Qotal,” added Caknol, one of the white-robed priests of the Plumed God.
Erixitl, still surrounded by the glowing cloak, surprised them all by whirling on the priest.
“The will of Qotal?” she spat. “Why should we take note of his will now, after his complete abandonment of us, his people? He sent his signs-the couatl, who died bravely in the battle with the Ancient Ones, and the Cloak-of-One-Plume, which covers my shoulders, but for what purpose? And even the Summer Ice, which enabled us to flee Nexal at the moment of the city’s destruction, has but prolonged our misery!”
“But his mercy-“ the cleric stammered, surprised by the woman’s anger.
“His mercy!” Erixitl practically sneered the words. “What
kind of mercy is this?” She gestured to the ragged collection
humanity around them, angrily turning her back on the
Then, with no warning, she collapsed onto the ground.
Lava seethed in great seas, surging against rocky shores with hellish force, crashing upward to coat scorched boulders with fresh layers of molten stone. Cavern roofs pressed overhead, rocked by convulsions, reflecting back the infernal heat. Massive chunks of rock broke from the ceilings of vast caverns, tumbling into the flaming, blood-red liquid and shattering convulsively from the pressure and the heat and the violence.
Everywhere this world lay wracked by flame and fire, yet overhung by leaden darkness as well, for it was a world beneath the earth, where the torturous wracking of the underdark emerged as mere tremors on the surface.
It was a world without life, without sun or water or sky. The only illumination came from the crackling, seething lava, hissing upward with crimson explosions of flame. Each burst of violence consumed precious oxygen, and the air in the huge caves hung heavy and thick with poisonous vapors and choking smoke.
It was through this world that a file of repulsive, spider like beasts made its way. Led by the one of purest white, these, the several dozen corrupted monsters of the spider goddess Lolth, passed slowly and carefully along the seething shores, in search of escape from the wrath of their angry god.
The driders were beasts of hideous aspect and foul, unnatural desires. Each walked upon eight spider legs, covered with coarse fur and bristling with venomous spines. Their bodies, bloated and distended like the abdomens of spiders, swung beneath the legs.
Only their torsos and heads showed signs of their former existence. Sleek black skin covered wretched faces that had once been proud and handsome. Long dexterous fingers held black-bladed swords or long, dark bows.
But these features, formerly noble if cruel, were now scarred by flame and distorted by corruption. Great patches of skin had burned from them, and their pale eyes
no longer held the gleam of power. Instead, they stared in terror at the hellfires around them, wildly, desperately seeking escape. Even the one who led them, the one that was pale white where all the others were dark, thought of nothing other than refuge.