Feathered Dragon - Douglas Niles [105]
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“First we meet the desert dwarves and the Little People. Now Gultec rejoins us with a force of warriors. It has to be a plan, part of some great design!” Halloran felt a tingling anticipation of success as they moved steadily northward. They neared their goal, finally, after a transcontinental march of some five months’ duration.
Erixitl rode beside him as he walked. Her time of child- birth loomed near, and the last weeks-now perhaps the interval could be measured in days-of the journey to Payit wore heavily upon her.
“A thing concerns me, though,” she admitted. “If this is destiny, why are we provided with an army? Does this mean we’ll have to fight when we reach Twin Visages?”
“We’re ready if we have to,” declared Jhatli, brandishing his bow and arrows, “I will be a great warrior when I have the chancel”
Halloran chuckled, feeling like an older brother listening to the enthusiastic ravings of his younger sibling. “Jhatli, you are already a warrior of such stature as to make your people proud. I don’t think you have to worry about that
anymore.”
The young man looked at him, pleased with the compliment and somewhat smug in his acceptance of it. “And you told me I would grow tired of battles and war! Little did you know-each fight is grander than the last!”
“That’s because we’ve won them, for one thing,” the former legionnaire said wryly.
Jhatli grinned at his companion. “And we will win the next fight as well.” he boasted.
Erixitl sighed, and Jhatli looked at the woman with a trace of guilt on his dark brown features. “I’m sorry, sister. 1 know how you feel about such talk of war. It is a topic best left to men!”
The youth looked toward the dwarves, up at the front of the column. Daggrande and Luskag engaged in earnest discussion of tactics and weaponry, as they had done for the past months of the journey. “Like the dwarves, I shall be a fighter of legend, a crusader against the evils that threaten our land!”
“Do not be too hasty to wish for that chance,” said Lotil quietly. The plumaworker followed beside Storm, his hand on the horse’s flank, his feet plodding steadily beside the trail. The blanket of pluma, more than half done, was wrapped in a bundle tied to his back.
“Aye,” agreed Gultec, coming up to join them. “1 have spent my life preparing for war, and yet 1 would be happy never to have to see it again.” “How much farther is it to Ulatos?” the youth asked. “Word from the last village is that we might get there in three days,” replied Halloran. And beyond the city, a short distance along the coast, lay their true destination of Twin Visages.
Coton followed them all, and Halloran turned to look at the priest as they walked. As always, restricted by his vow, the cleric said nothing. Yet his face bore a dreamy expression, as if his thoughts were very far away.
Erixitl swayed in the saddle suddenly and Halloran looked at her in sudden alarm. Her face twitched, as if from the memory of a horrifying dream.
“What is it? Are you all right?” Hal reached up to take her hand.
In the next instant, her eyelids dropped shut. Suddenly limp, she collapsed from the saddle as if the life had been drained from her body
* * * * *
Heavy clouds swept in from the great Eastern Ocean, soon blocking out even the faint rays from the crescent of moon that rose over the Payit jungles. A night of inky darkness fell across the city of Ulatos and the earthen bulk of Helmsport.
Within the city, torches blossomed here and there, and hearthfires burned in the homes. The compound of the fort stood outlined in the white light of lanterns as the soldiers of Don Vaez went about their routine duties of maintenance, shoeing horses, cleaning and sharpening weapons, oiling leather boots and saddles.
Then gradually the lanterns winked out. One by one the torches and fires faded into coals, and then even the coals settled into gray ash. The city and the fort fell into the silent