Ironhelm - Douglas Niles [4]
She tried reminding herself of the importance of the feathers she now sought, of the greatness of her father's craft. Indeed, practitioners of pluma magic were the most important citizens of the Nexala! Of course, her father's feathermagic was of the simple, country sort. It consisted largely of feathered armor for the warriors of Palul and nearby towns, light yet sturdy vests that could shatter a flint spear tip or deflect the jagged obsidian blade of a sword; or the occasional floating litter for the speaker of the village or as a tribute to Nexal.
She had heard about, but never seen, the grand works crafted by the feathermasters of Nexal: huge litters that could bear a noble and his entire retinue; great, swirling fans that cooled the palatial homes of great nobles and warriors; or vast lifts, soaring gracefully up the side of a great pyramid with their burdens of devout priests and weeping victims.
As Erix's thoughts drifted again toward those mystical sights of the city, she avoided her previous self-pity. Instead, she continued along the path, almost eagerly seeking the feathered quarry in her family's snares, confident that one day she would not only see but also be a part of the grandeur that was Nexal.
She looked off to the right as she took up the path. There, in the wilderness to the east, lay the lands of the dreaded Kultakans, fierce enemies of the Nexala. The Kultakans, too, were a nation of warriors, worshipers of Zaltec who eagerly fed the god's gory appetite on their sacrificial altars. A small nation compared to the mighty Nexala, the Kultakans were the only nearby tribe who had never been subjugated to Nexal.
Erix followed the trail along the narrow ridgeline. Tb her left sloped the familiar green slopes leading back to her home, and below that to the small town of Palul. Pausing at a curve in the trail, she could even see Palul's small pyramid, where her older brother studied the ways of the priests of Zaltec. She glared at the pyramid, but then turned away, sudden guilt overcoming her jealousy. In truth, to be a priest of the god of war was an honor any male Nexala would cherish!
Continuing on her way, she came to the first snare, where one brilliant parrot hung. The bird's struggles to escape had caused its strangulation, but Erix noted with detached pleasure that few of the bird's bright feathers had been damaged. Deftly she pulled the wiry noose, made of tough strands from the gut of a jaguar, over the bird's head, smoothing the green and red feathers in the process. Then she stuffed the bird in her leather pouch and moved farther along the trail.
Several other snares along the ridgetop were empty, but she found a bright macaw in the fifth. Now the trail dropped to the far side of the ridge. She cast a wistful look behind her and started down the eastern slope. These were the far snares, usually her brother's territory, but Erix knew their locations well.
The dirt trail twisted past a spuming waterfall, and she stopped to kick her feet through the sparkling water at its foot. Raising her face to the sky, she let the cool mist wash over her. The dust ran from her skin, and she emerged into the shady brush across the stream feeling refreshed and happier.
A screech of avian rage told her that another macaw had found a snare, and she quickly reached it and wrung the bird's neck. Ducking under low branches, she worked her way through the thick greenery, bushes that towered high over her head, as she found more birds. Her father would be very pleased.
Suddenly a harsh call drew her attention to the deep brush. She saw a moving flash of shining brilliance, disappearing, then flashing again, farther away. With a gasp of astonishment, she parted branches and looked in amazement.
At first, she thought she glimpsed the form of a brilliant snake, entwined among the dense foliage. But then a pair of large, unmistakably feathered wings fluttered. It must