Feathered Dragon - Douglas Niles [97]
It is not a return, but a projection of power, and it entails dangers of its own. The Daughter of the Plume could per. haps reach me thus, but I would not ask it.
“Why not?”
Because such a transfer is not without cost-indeed, the cost is tremendously high.
“What is the cost?” asked Poshtli, though he began to suspect.
ft is nothing short of the life of the caller. The dragon began to dive.
Gultec stared in dismay at the climbing insects. A thousand or more of the giant ants lay at the cliff base, killed or broken beyond further menace. But those that still lived far outnumbered the slain, and the Itza warriors’ weaponry had been all but exhausted.
Now they picked up their macas, their spears, their clubs, and their knives. They had no more missiles to cast or to roll, so they could only stand to meet the onslaught with their courage and their strength.
Slowly, distracted by thoughts of his own failure, the Jaguar Knight passed his eyes over the brave warriors who stood with him here at the pass. They knew now that then was no hope, yet none wavered or fled.
“Men of Tulom-Itzi, you make me proud,” he whispered-
Gultec… hear me well, my son.
The voice came into his mind, though no sound had been carried on the wind. Instinctively he looked to Zochimaloc,
still seated upon the high rock outcrop in the center of the pass. The old man was a great distance away, perhaps two hundred paces, and dust from the rockslide still drifted thickly through the air.
Yet Zochilmaloc’s eyes hovered before Gultec’s face, so clear that the warrior felt he should have been able to touch his mentor’s face.
“What is it, Grandfather?” he asked quietly, understanding without question that his teacher could hear.
Take the warriors now. Fall back down the valley, toward the rest of the people.
“But that is folly! Here is the only place to fight them- here, at the crest of the pass. Perhaps we cannot win, but here we can make them pay for our deaths!”
Hear me and obey, ordered Zochimaloc, his voice thrumming with uncharacteristic strength. This is my command, and it shall be the last J ever give to you.
“What do you mean?” Suddenly Gultec feared for the wise man, his teacher and mentor. Why did he give such a rash order? What could he hope to gain by resuming flight? Surely he understood that the folk of Tulom-Itzi could not flee forever!
Go.
The final word, sent with such a quiet air of confidence, and a hint of sadness as well, removed from Gultec any further desire to argue. The Jaguar Knight raised his hand in a single, sharp gesture, the signal to retreat. He was surprised to note that all the warriors along the ridgetop seemed to be watching him, as if they had sensed his internal debate with their chief.
But unhesitatingly they turned to obey Gultec’s order. swiftly, silently, the men of Tulom-Itzi fell back from the Pass and left Zochimaloc there alone.
The Jaguar Knight was the last to go. As the ants crept steadily up the sloping wall of the high pass, he cast an imploring look at the old man who meant so much to him. But Zochimaloc paid him no more attention.
Slowly Gultec stumbled away nearly sick with grief. Why did his teacher have to remain? He, Gultec, was the
warrior-he was the one who should die before the onslaught of their enemies.
Then the Jaguar Knight fell a strange stirring in the ground below his feet. Zochimaloc remained immobile, sitting cross-legged atop his promontory of rock.
The chief of the Itza raised both of his hands over his head. He uttered a strange, ululating cry.
Then Gultec felt the power in the air, and it was the power of Zochimaloc. But it was also the power of the.
From the chronicles of Coton:
Encounters in the wilds, and our future course remains beneath a shroud.
They have gone, now, to the aid of Gultec and the Itza warriors.
Halloran and Erixitl, fearing for their friend, Gultec… Jhatli, once again thrilling to the promise of battle… Daggrande, Luskag, and the dwarves, because there is another