Feathered Dragon - Douglas Niles [89]
The crossbow-wielding legionnaire, together with Jhatli and a score of desert dwarves, had followed the trail- The rest of the dwarves scoured the surrounding country, except for a few who remained guarding the camp with Lotil and Coton.
“The warriors must have been children,” lie explained. “Their feet were very small.”
In moments, the young hunter had found the path beneath the encloaking vines, and in another minute, the stair way through the rocky niche stood revealed.
“They must have gone this way, whoever they were.” Jhatli guessed.” And they probably look Halloran and Erixitl with them!” For once, the youth did not loudly proclaim his intent to attack and kill whatever enemies stood in their path. Indeed, Jhatli’s face was creased by a frown of deep, undeniable concern.
*Should we get the rest of the dwarves?” asked Luskag, with a look to Daggrande.
“Let’s go,” grunted Daggrande, hefting his shining axe. “Once we find out what we’re up against, we send for help-if we need it:” His tone, combined with the steely glint in the veteran legionnaire’s eye, gave his impression of the prospects for the latter circumstance.
Luskag and several dozen desert dwarves quickly fell into file behind them as they started up the cool, mossy passage-None of them spoke, as each focused on his own apprehensions. Daggrande silently vowed vengeance against whoever had captured his old friend, while Luskag wrestled with a deep curiosity about the diminutive footprints.
Jhatli led the way, always the alert hunter, his own bow and arrow ready for instant use. The youth wanted to bound up the stairway but forced himself to slow his pace so that the slower dwarves could keep up.
Soon they emerged into the damp glen. The well-beaten path lay before them, and though it showed no specific footprints, Jhatli ascertained with a quick inspection that their quarry had kept to the trail.
They set off at a trot, twenty-two grim warriors in search of an unknown enemy. All of them were cautious, but none were afraid.
“Hsst!” Jhatli paused with a whispered warning, raising his hand and shrinking into the underbrush beside the trail. Instantly the desert dwarves followed suit. “Someone comes,” the young hunter told Daggrande.
They stared at the trail before them, and soon the sound of steady footfalls-many of them-reached their ears. They heard, too, the hum of animated conversation.
They’re not trying to sneak through the woods, whoever they are,” Daggrande hissed. He checked his weapon and Raised the heavy crossbow to draw a bead on the trail before them. A second later, he lowered it in surprise and relief. “Hal!” he shouted, springing to his feet. The desert Dwarves and Jhatli quickly followed suit. Halloran, accompanied by Erixitl, looked up in surprise. The pair had been
walking easily down the jungle trail, in apparent unconcern of danger. The crossbowman saw movement behind his friend, but he couldn’t see who was there.
“Daggrande. you old griffon’s tail! What are you doing out here?” The man raced forward to embrace his companion.
“Looking for you!” sputtered the dwarf. “What do you think I’m doing! And who are they?”
He gestured toward the file of small warriors, still painted in black and red, who followed Halloran and Erixitl down the trail. The man turned with a flourish, indicating the leading warrior.
“Captain Daggrande. meet Chief Tabub of the Little People.”
Erixitl repeated the introduction in Payit, while Daggrande looked back at Halloran with raised eyebrows.
“They are my warriors,” said Hal, with just a him of a smile, “and our newest marching partners on the road to Twin Visages.”
* * * * *
From the chronicles of Coton:
As our numbers grow and our march proceeds towards its rendezvous with the god.
We make a colorful file now as we advance along dark forest trails. A thousand desert dwarves, new to the jungle and intrigued and mystified by its sights, smells, and sounds lead the file. With them, speaking