Feathered Dragon - Douglas Niles [82]
“As you wish, Captain,” he replied softly. Rodolfo turned and disappeared into the darkness collecting in the fortress. Don Vaez watched him go, pleased with the result of the confrontation. He knew that he had gone far to secure his position as unquestioned leader of the expedition. The only question now was what to do next.
Still, it was a fine start to the mission! Don Vaez congratulated himself as he crossed the compound within Helm-sport, toward the large wooden building-the only permanent structure here-which he had claimed as his headquarters. Within that house, he knew, Pryat Devane worked his auguries, trying to determine with the aid of Helm what would be the appropriate course of action. That was useful, thought the commander, but not essential. He had time now, and could afford to wait.
He took no notice of the eagle soaring in serene circles high overhead.
* * * * *
“We have folk like this where I come from,” Halloran explained. “They’re called halflings.”
Do they lack clothing and take your people prisoner?” Erix wondered.
Hal chuckled grimly “No-they’re more of a nuisance! than a threat. Most of them live among humans, in the same cities and towns and villages. Sometimes they’re brave, sometimes cowardly, They’re just like other men, except a little smaller.”
He and his wife sat on the ground within a small cage fashioned from sturdy wooden bars lashed together with toughened strands of hemp. Around them, the Little People settled down to their evening’s cooking. The village was a collection of straw huts, with overhanging roofs of heavy thatch and low, rounded doorways. Racks in the center of the structures held a variety of meats over low coals.
Night settled across the surrounding jungle, a night filled with the heavy drone of insects, punctuated by the shrill howls of monkeys and birds. Every once in a while they heard the rumbling cry of a jaguar, and for a few moments afterward, the forest fell still.
Several children advanced cautiously toward the cage, watching them with wide eyes. Erixitl smiled at them, and they quickly scampered back to the shelter of their parents cookfires.
If Erix was frightened, Halloran thought, she didn’t show it. He tried to hide his own fear, even though he didn’t fear for himself. But what kind of hope was there? What were their prospects of flight, even if they could get away, with Erix carrying the burden of their child within her.
“What do you think they’ll do with us?” she asked.
Halloran could only shrug, “At least I don’t see a pyramid or an altar. But who knows what their plans ate? Have you heard of these folk before?”
“In the same sense as the ‘Hairy Men.’ the desert dwarves,” she admitted. “The Little People are told of in ancient legends, and some claimed that they dwelled in the deepest jungles of Far Payit. But like the desert dwarves, no one seemed to take the stories seriously. I have never heard of anyone who has seen them before.”
“We are the lucky ones,” Hal remarked dryly.
For a time, they lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Finally Erixitl shook her head and offered her husband a wan
smile “Still’ believe things will be all right,” she said. “1 don’t know why, but I do.”
“Me, too,» Hal agreed though neither of them believed him. He had to do something, he knew-but what?
“Big People, you come with me now.” The remark drew their attention, and they saw the same warrior who had been the first to accost them at the waterfall approaching.
“Where are you taking us?” asked Erixitl as the little man opened the cage door. Several other warriors stood well back from the pair, carrying the short bows with deadly-looking arrows, ready to shoot.
The native didn’t reply, instead commanding them with a peremptory gesture to follow him. They walked among the small grass huts of the village to a clearing on the far side. A dozen warriors, each bearing a blazing torch, stood in a ring at the center of the area.
Halloran’s chest tightened in fear, again for Erixitl and the unborn child. Instinctively