Feathered Dragon - Douglas Niles [91]
For a moment, he paused in reflection. He wondered what had corrupted these beasts into their monstrous forms, what had brought them under the command of these other creatures, the man-bugs with their sleek black skin? And what was the secret of that white one, with her bizarre appearance and her shocking powers? Why did all these foul presences work to destroy Tulom-Itzi?
But in the next moment, he shook his head with an angry, self-conscious growl. Why, indeed, did he worry about such things? He was a warrior, and now he had an enemy in war.
It was a cold and implacable enemy, to be sure, all the more! frightening for its complete lack of humanity But never the less it was a problem of war and demanded a warlike solution.
His mind resting once again on firm, familiar ground, Gultec looked around at his warriors. They stood ready all along the crest, though still no sign of their enemy appeared below. They will be here soon enough, Gultec thought grimly.
“Are the others, the women and children, safely away?” Gultec turned to an Itza warrior, a man who had supervised! the further retreat of those who would not be able to fight in this battle.
“They are nearly dead from fatigue, but they are safely off the heights. They have made camp at the western foot of the range.”
Now only the warriors stood along the crest. Proud and alert, the line of men provided the last barrier between the mandibles of the pursuing horde and the people of Tulom-Itzi. Brown bodies lean and muscular after weeks of war-fare and marching, the men of Tulom-Itzi didn’t show their weariness. Their bodies remained taut, their black eyes dark and intent, staring into the murky forest below.
They wore their long black hair pulled back, away from their faces. Unlike other armies of Maztica, no feathered banners fluttered overhead. Aside from Gultec, no man wore the spotted garb of the Jaguar Knight, and there were no Eagle Knights among the Itza at all.
But these men who had been born and lived in peace now proved ready to make a last stand in war. They stood in ranks of ten or twenty. Each rank had gathered a large pile of rocks and boulders nearby. Each man carried a bow and several dozen arrows, all of the precious missiles that the women of the tribe had been able to make.
The warrior beside Gultec cleared his throat nervously “All the old ones and the children are safely down the slope, that is, except Zochimaloc. He insisted that he would see the battle, though 1 tried my best to persuade him otherwise”
Gultec cursed. “Where is he? 1 will speak to him myself!”
The warrior pointed to the old chief. Zochimaloc sat upon a high knob of the ridge, his legs crossed comfortably before him, looking as if he desired nothing more than a few moments of quiet meditation.
Gultec cast another look into the valley below. The file of ants had not yet emerged from the forest, so he judged that he had several hours before the battle would begin. Trotting along the ridgetop, he headed toward his teacher.
“Master,” he said, with a peremptory bow, “you must not remain here! You can add nothing to our defense, and your life must be spared! What will the people do if you perish?”
Zochimaloc smiled, an irritating, patronizing look that nearly brought Gultec’s blood to a boil. “Patience, my son,” said the old man. “You must not talk to your old master this way!”
Gultec flushed. “Forgive me, but I speak strongly to reflect the depth of my concern! What do you hope to gain by remaining here?”
“Remember,” Zochimaloc chided him gently, “that although you have learned many things, you do not know everything. Perhaps there is a surprise or two in this old gray head.
“Or perhaps I simply wish to have a look at what war is like,” the old man concluded with that same smile. “I have never seen it, you know.”
“It is not worth seeing,” replied Gultec. “I thought you knew that.”
Zochimaloc chuckled quietly “There was a time when you would have argued