Feathered Dragon - Douglas Niles [59]
We wait for the future, our fate determined by the strong. arms and keen weapons of a soldier, a dwarf, and a youth; and though the enemy numbers many, our faith is great, for” the one true god of goodness watches over us.
We three, two old men-one blind, the other sworn MS silence-and a young woman who grows more round with child every passing day, can do naught for the battle. Yet our fate is tied irreversibly to those who strike blows in the name of Qotal.
And so we pause in the heights of the twisting ravine. The horse can climb no farther by this path, and even could we proceed, we have no future if our friends fall in this light.
But again the blessings of Qotal are manifest.
Now we find proof of goodness and also the truth of leg-
END: WE learn that the Hairy Men of the Desert do to fact exist. Indeed they have saved us, for the beasts of the Viperhand flee back to their master, bleeding and defeated We greet our saviors with curiosity, and so do they regard us – but we are allies in a great cause, and in our first contest together we have prevailed.
And now only the desert extends around us, and our goal beckons to the east.
STALKERS IN THE JUNGLE
Halloran thought that it must be the strangest victory celebration ever. The companions sat beneath the desert sky,] its immaculate dome of stars arcing from horizon to horizon, among a throng of a thousand dwarves. No fire blazed, even though the night was chill, and their newfound allies spoke in subdued, almost awestruck, tones.
From somewhere, Luskag, the chief of the desert! dwarves, had produced a number of jars of a bitter draft, more powerfully intoxicating than anything Hal had yet sampled in Maztica. Now they sat in groups, gathered along a wide, flat bluff, drinking the liquor and basking in the glow of victory.
Jhatli amused the dwarves by whooping and dancing about, describing to anyone who would listen the deadly rain of arrows with which he had showered the trolls. The youth spun wildly and leaped into the air, and the gruff dwarves chuckled at the spectacle.
Daggrande and.Luskag, meanwhile, talked earnestly in the dwarven tongue that linked them, They passed one era the gourds of drink between them, and Hal wondered] blearily whether the two of them would be able to finish the thing. After all, he himself had had only a few swigs, yet already he found a strange nonchalance flowing gently through his limbs.
“Sure,” he said to the grinning desert dwarf who squatted beside him. “I’ll have another taste.” The stuff coated hid tongue like pungent ink and cut a swath of fire down his throat, but then in his belly it became a flame of gentle warmth.
Daggrande clumped over to him, walking with a steady-gait. Vet when Hal looked at his friend’s face, he saw that the dwarf’s eyes blazed and his cheeks were flushed with a
ruddy glow.
“This was their first battle ever!” exclaimed the dwarf, collapsing beside Hal.
The man shook his head in amazement. “Dint do too bad,
did they?”
Daggrande smiled, his eyes glowing brighter, “That’s dwarves for ya. You can take the dwarves out of the fight, but you can’t take the dwarves out of the fight… no, that’s out of the war… something like that.” He shook his head, suddenly morose at the lapse in his memory,
“I know what you mean.” Hal chuckled.
Suddenly the dwarf looked up. “Where’s yer wife?” he
asked.
“Isn’t she right over…” Hal’s head whirled around 1 dunno,” he admitted. He climbed awkwardly to his feet, surprised when the ground seemed to shift under him. Odd the way the stars whirled around, too… “1 better go find her,”
he mumbled.
A cool wind blew across the desert, cresting the bluff of their camp briskly, with freshening force. The air seemed to clear his head slightly, but Hal still found it difficult to maintain his footing. Not knowing why he did it, he headed toward the edge of the crest, away from the dwarves and his
companions.
In a few minutes, he saw, or imagined, a brightness ahead of him. He was not surprised when he found