Feathered Dragon - Douglas Niles [47]
Gradually over a period of many minutes, a massive? shape appeared, squatting above the Cloak-of-One-Plume. The serpentine image was clear yet insubstantial, as if a stone thrown at it would pass right through. A mane of bright feathers encircled its neck, brighter than a hundred rainbows. Deep, glistening eyes, golden and wise, looked down upon them. Its legs curved beneath it, tipped by swordlike talons. Even through the faintness of the image, the brilliant hues of the creature’s feathered coal shone with unearthly brilliance.
Halloran had no doubt that they stood now in the presence of the Plumed One, the god Qotal himself. Yet it was a presence that was not fully there.
When the spoke, his voice was surprisingly gentle, yet it possessed a deep resonance that belied his vaporous appearance.
“You have done well, Daughter of the Plume,” he said.
“I have done what I had no choice but to do,” Erixitl replied simply.
“Yours is a faith that is all the stronger for its doubts. It is proper that you were chosen. And even now, I know, you have questions. You wonder why I come now, after disaster has swept the land? Why have I delayed so long?”
Erixitl, mute, nodded. She stood facing the huge image, her body tense but her courage unwavering. Hal remained at her side, trying to overcome his own sense of awe.
“Centuries ago I turned my back on my people in anger as they took up the cult of blood and killing.” The dragon’s
voice was soothing and laced with sadness. His body remained insubstantial, yet it seemed to grow more solid with each minute. The rays of the setting sun shone full upon the cloak now, and it created a dazzling nest of colors below the great serpent.
“As years passed-decades and centuries of years-my anger faded, and I saw the foolishness with which I had acted. I resolved to return to Maztica, to right the wrongs that now scarred my land.
“ But when 1 tried to enter the True World, 1 found that the cult of killing held me at bay. My brother Zaltec had grown so powerful, and his followers sated his gory appetite so well, that I lacked the power to overcome him.
“Then came this event you humans call the Night of Wailing. This cataclysm smote the followers of Zaltec as well as my own, In that chaos, his own power was weakened- weakened just enough that, with the aid of a human of strong faith, I might be able to return to the world that is my
true home.
“You opened that passage for me by your act of faith, when you placed the Cloak-of-One-Plume in this sacred place-a place so holy it is one of but two such in all Maztica. Now I am coming.”
Qotal’s voice grew strong, a ringing challenge. “And when I am here, I will face the evil one and again I will smite him atop my pyramid.”
“He comes here?” Erixitl asked in shock. “Zaltec comes
here?”
As she completed the words, a great shadow fell across the doorway blocking out the sunset. They turned in shock to see two massive pillars of stone, where before had been open sky The great monoliths moved, then bent to reveal the torso of a looming giant of stone. It stepped quickly through the huge door. Once inside the temple, it stood upright again. Its rock-hard eyes fixed the with their impassive glance, even as the giant’s legs cast the Cloak-of-One-Plume into shadow. The thing’s face was a grotesque caricature of humanity corrupted by an insatiable hunger for blood, for living hearts.
Halloran heard Erixitl moan in fear beside him. Jhatli dropped his bow in shock, while even the stalwart Daggrande gasped. Only Coton and Lotil remained apparently unaffected, the old men standing impassively while the shade from the giant’s body darkened the entire vast temple.
And in that shadow, the image of Qotal began to fade.
* * * * *
From the chronicles of Coton:
Struck down and raised again in the face of war between the gods.
Qotal and Zaltec clash in the vast arena of the temple, a twilit battle that the cannot possibly