Feathered Dragon - Douglas Niles [76]
“Then, when the creatures move up, we shall attack.”
Poshtli sensed no hunger, no thirst. It never grew dark, nor did the gray mist show any signs of thinning or dissipating. Yet he knew that many days must have passed since he and Qotal had escaped from the Temple of Tewahca.
For all that time, he had ridden on the great dragon’s shoulders. Nestled among the bright, flowing plumage, he fell no danger, knew no desires. He had not spoken, nor had the Plumed Serpent made any communication with him. A sense of timeless peace possessed Poshtli, and it seemed to him that it didn’t matter where they were or where they went. His human body seemed like an old friend.
Finally, though, he knew that this sense of stasis must begin to fade. He felt something that was not boredom, but instead a slow, restless stirring that compelled him to speak or to act.
“Where are we?” he asked finally, his voice low but level.
We soar through the ether, away from the plane of men.
The answer came into his mind clearly, and he could al-
most imagine it spoken in low, articulate tones. Yet there had been no sound after his own question.
“Why am 1 here with you?” Poshtli inquired.
I admired your bravery. You were willing to die for me in the battle. We lost that fight, but there will be another.
“When? How?”
The woman, the Daughter of the Plume, is very wise. She will know where the battle must be fought, and she will go there. We wait for that moment, and then I shall challenge Zaltec again.
And I will triumph.
Poshtli wanted to ask more questions, to talk about the details of their entry into the world. He wondered briefly how long their wait might be, or how much time had passed since they had entered this stuff that Qotal called “ether*) But something in the dragon’s mental tone discouraged any further questions, so he settled back into the lush plumage.
There would be time enough, he suspected, for all these answers and more.
A flight of two dozen eagles soared overhead, following the dusty spoor across the rolling desert terrain. On the ground, Cordell and fourteen other riders held their steeds] to a walk in order to conserve their strength- The journey to] Helmsport would be a long and tiring one, but no part, would be as difficult as this first leg, the crossing of the “ House of Tezca.
For the first week they had moved northward, retracing the route of their flight and following the path of the horde, which now apparently returned to Nexal. Water had been plentiful along this route, and they carried sufficient food for the passage, at least until they again entered settled lands.
But now they cut to the northeast, both to avoid the tail end of the monstrous army, which moved much more slowly than the riders, and to trace a more direct path toward the Payit lands. Chical and the other eagles soared
ahead and above, informing them that the fertile lands of Pezelac lay another week’s journey in this direction.
Loading the horses with as much water as they could carry, the men carefully rationed the precious liquid and embarked upon this scorching trek. Cordell, accompanied by Captain Grimes, the assessor Kardann, and twelve stalwart lancers, rode toward Helmsport. The rest of his legion and its Kultakan allies marched toward the sea.
Only the gods, or fate itself, would decide whether they would again be reunited.
* * * * *
“Gultec, I must speak with you now.” Zochimaloc said with uncharacteristic force. Despite the mounting pressures of the attack that he was about to launch, the Jaguar Knight turned to heed his teacher. Around him, the warriors of Tulom-Itzi crouched among the underbrush, awaiting his command.
“I understand the importance of this attack, and I know that Itza warriors, perhaps many of them, will die as they make it,” continued the old man.
Gultec nodded, uncomfortable under Zochilmaloc’s patient gaze.
“But take care of one thing, my student and my friend,” he said. Gultec flushed with pleasure. Never had his teacher called him “friend