Feathered Dragon - Douglas Niles [39]
They came toward him’
* * * * *
The colors faded as Halloran and Daggrande looked at Erixitl in astonishment. For a second, the pair had stood in the warm wash of light, very bright yet somehow vaguely cooling in the dry desert air.
“How-how did you do that?” Hal asked softy.
“It is the power of pluma” she answered, suddenly un-
comfortable, “didn’t do anything. But look, it seems to have captured their attention!”
Indeed, they saw the horde in the valley surge toward them. Even at this distance, they heard the shrieks and howls, felt the pounding of weapons and feet upon the
ground.
“Let’s go!” Hal urged, and they swiftly started down the opposite side of the slope. Though they could no longer see the beasts of the Viperhand, the presence of the monsters lurked like a heavy cloud just beyond the ridge. They knew that soon it would wash up and over.
They saw with dismay that they descended toward a torturous landscape of jagged gullies, sharp outcrops of rock, and broad stretches of cracked and broken ground. Far away, blue with haze even through the clear air, stood another ridgeline.
Above them, the eagle still floated effortlessly through the sky. The great bird circled slowly, always leading them eastward. If they followed him, they would have to traverse the bleak and tortured ground before them.
“How are we going to cross that?” groaned Halloran.
“There! Follow Poshtli” Erix pointed as the great eagle dove toward the ground. It appeared to follow the course of a twisting, broken chasm. From where they stood, they couldn’t see the bottom.
Half-sliding, half-scrambling, they plunged down the steep slope. Their route took them right to the lip of the gully, and they saw a fairly clear floor of dirt. It took but another minute to find a negotiable route down into the gulch.
They looked upward between a pair of steep, rocky cliffs and saw only a narrow strip of sky above. On the bottom, they felt a little more secure, since only something airborne or standing at the very lip of the little canyon would be able to see them. Puffing with exertion, they started along the level ground, relieved to see that the eagle followed each twist and turn of the canyon above them.
For several hours, they pressed forward, not speaking, dripping with sweat, pausing only long enough to take a few drops of refreshment from their still-bulging waterskins.
Fortunately the canyon floor followed a generally eastward course, with many small twists leading slightly to the north or south.
It was at their third brief rest, as each rationed a few tiny drops from the skins, that Hal stiffened. Immediately the other two came alert. Daggrande’s eyebrows raised questioningly.
“1 heard something,” Halloran mouthed silently. He drew Helmstooth, his keen longsword, and began to creep along the canyon floor. A few feet before them, the gully curved to the right, concealing the next stretch of its course.
Crouching, Hal raised the sword before him as he approached the turn. Then he sprang forward, turning to the side and stabbing the weapon viciously.
He almost fell as he suddenly twisted away, desperately pulling back before his thrust struck home. His initial astonishment grew into full-blown shock.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
Daggrande and Erix watched in amazement as Jhatli crept from behind the concealing rock.
“I-I came to warn you,” the youth whispered. The urgency in his voice assured their attention.
“Of what? Why did you leave the others?” Halloran’s anger filled his voice.
“The others!” Jhatli’s indignation came through as scorn. “This is where 1 should be! 1 told you, I will be a warrior, not one who spends his life fleeing enemies like the rest of my people.”
“Warn us?” interjected Erixitl quietly. “Warn us against what?”
“There’s an ambush up ahead. Monsters-big, green ones!