Ironhelm - Douglas Niles [5]
She did not pause to wonder at its appearance, however. Spellbound, she crept through the brush, barely glimpsing the long tailfeathers that distinguished the creature. Her thoughts were not of capture, though she well knew that these shining plumes must number among the most valuable treasures in all Maztica. Instead, she followed the creature with a sense of reverence, herself caught in the snare of its rare and unique beauty.
She darted under a flowery vine, slipping quietly through the shallow stream, in time to see the creature take wing. It came to rest in the top of a tall tree, and Erix hesitantly edged forward, gazing upward at the proud and wondrous fowl.
She did not see the orange figure slipping soundlessly between the concealing branches, its black spots moving through the shadows like oily liquid. Erix felt, rather than heard, the large body behind her, and immediately she forgot the feathered form, forgot everything but her imminent danger.
Whirling, she saw widespread jaws, leering eyes, and horrible curving claws reaching for her shoulders. ErixitI screamed as the jaguar rose onto its rear legs, and then the scream faded into a moan of terror. The great cat bore her to the earth, and she felt its breath hot upon her face. The girl lay prostrate upon the ground, her eyes squeezed shut, her body trembling in terror, as she awaited the kiss of the deadly fangs.
"Quiet, little one!" A man's voice hissed into her ear, speaking Nexala awkwardly. She opened her eyes in shock and looked between the jaguar jaws into a snarling but unmistakably human face.
The girl's heart pounded and her voice froze in her throat. The beast that had attacked her had seemed so feline, with its animal heat and deep growl. Yet she was now held by a man wearing the skin and skull of a jaguar!
ErixitI knew of the Jaguar Knights. She had even seen members of that mystical order in Palul. Fully draped in the skin of his feline namesake, painted for battle or ceremony, armed with his intricately feathered shield and brilliantly plumed lance, a Jaguar Knight was an impressive sight. But those Erix had seen were Nexala warriors, her own people!
She knew instinctively that the man who gripped her-with fingers, she saw, not the claws she had previously imagined-was not Nexala.
She understood then that her captor must come from Kultaka. With a detached sense of disbelief, she wondered whether she was intended for slavery or for the sacrificial altar. The latter seemed more likely. Trembling in terror, her brown eyes wide and staring, she watched her captor for some sign of his intentions. Would he kill her instantly? This seemed unlikely, but that knowledge only made thoughts of the future even more terrifying.
Other figures emerged from the brush, this knight's retinue. Several of the men wore quilted cotton armor, dyed a shade of green to match the undergrowth. A half-dozen were nearly naked, clad only in loincloths made from single strips of cloth. A pair of the latter took her from the knight and expertly and quickly gagged her. Then they bound her hands before her.
The knight whispered a command in a strange language, and one of the men pulled on the rope, tugging Erix into the brush, toward the east, toward Kultaka and the enemies of the Nexala.
Behind her fell the valley of Palul, and farther away than ever before was the mystical city of Nexal, Heart of the True World.
As the girl stumbled into the brush, the green plants closed behind her, behind the knight and his men. Soon the only trace of their passage was an occasional crimson spot on the leaves-blood dripping from the claw marks that scarred Erix's upper arms.
"How is it that none of my wisest priests can explain a portent of this magnitude?"
Naltecona rose from his bench and stalked back and forth across the dais. His wide cape, made of shimmering green feathers embroidered into the finest of cotton mesh, floated