Feathered Dragon - Douglas Niles [55]
the bright, squared pyramids of the city’s heart. His relief
choked him as he tucked his wings and entered a long dive,. J feeling at last as though he had come back to his true home.]
The great stone figure of Zaltec stood motionless in the center of the massive temple. The dust had settled in a film across the floor. Nothing moved within the cavernous chamber.
If emotions could have played across the vast, stony surface of the war god’s face, cruel triumph would have glare there, an ultimate explosion of hatefulness. But, instead, the; granite visage remained impassive, as cold as ever.
Now Zaltec turned to face each of the four directions. Toward each, he knew, lay his domains. He had vanquished the only one who could challenge him. Now let the ultimate! reign of Zaltec begin!
But where should the center of his power be? This the] bloody god pondered long and hard while the sun passed] beneath the world and rose again into the morning sky.
Tewahca sprawled around him, and his immortal memory recalled the place in all its splendor, with water and food and humans who worshiped him. But now, in its barren vistas, it was an old place, fit to be abandoned by men. How, then, should a god expect to make a home here?
Instead, Zaltec gradually turned back to the north, where lay the moist valley of Nexal, surmounted by its looming volcanoes. Nexal, where the beasts of the Viperhand dwelled; the ruined city, still guardian of buried riches, the seat of an empire that may yet rise again.
When full day blazed around him, Zaltec stepped from the temple and the pyramid, dropping easily to the dusty ground. When his footsteps again shook the earth, they re-1 sounded in the north, along the path to Nexal.
Halloran and Jhatli emerged from the mouth of the cave first, while the others waited for their report. The youth
veered to the right, readying an arrow and watching his companion while Halloran moved carefully forward.
After taking a few steps, Jhatli turned to look back at Halloran, a scowl on the youth’s face. “Why is it we always run away?” he asked, his voice challenging. “Why do we never stop to fight?”
“You’ll get your chance to fight, I’m sure,” Hal retorted, looking around them at steeply sloping rock walls that rose on either side. The floor of a ravine created a narrow, twisting pathway immediately below them. “Believe it or not, there’ll be a time when you won’t look forward so eagerly to your next fight”
“Never!” boasted Jhatli, but Halloran ignored him.
“It’s a dry ravine,” the man called into the eave after completing his inspection. “It must be in the base of one of the ridges that surround Tewahca.”
Slowly the others came forth, while Jhatli climbed the slope to see if he could get their bearings. The underground passage had led them to a stone archway in the side of a steep slope. Directly across from their exit, another slope climbed upward, lb the left and right, the narrow bottom of a ravine snaked away, slowly climbing to the right and descending to the left.
Coton and Lotil sat upon a rock and breathed the sweet air of the desert dawn, while Daggrande led the black mare to some nearby fiat ground at the base of the ravine. The blind featherworker breathed the fresh air with obvious relish. From somewhere beneath his cloak, he pulled out a sheet of fine cotton mesh and a small bag. Removing a bright blue tuft of plumage from the sack, he began to work it into the mesh.
Erixitl emerged last, with a lingering look into the darkened passage. She went to her husband, and he took her in his arms. For long minutes, they all remained still, resting quietly and remembering the sights of the long and terrifying night.
“Your quiver!” exclaimed Halloran suddenly, looking at Daggrande. “By Helm! Where did these come from?” The dwarf
looked in amazement at several dozen straight quarrels sturdy missiles lipped with heads of dark black stone. All of them remembered their despair when, the previous day he had expended