Ironhelm - Douglas Niles [84]
"Look there." The general pointed to his elf woman. "Those are man-made structures rising above the trees."
Indeed, the pyramids of Ulatos were in plain view from their anchorage. The tangled swamps blocked the delta below the town, but less than a mile to the west beckoned a broad savannah of grass and mayz.
"The Bishou will be pleased," said Darien, with a sly, private smile.
"Tb be sure." Cordell paid her little attention. "Excellent. We will land the entire legion here. The savages will quickly learn the folly of attacking the Golden Legion."
"Let the war begin," whispered Darien, so softly that even her man did not hear
Spiral! rested inside the dark shrine of Qotal. He felt no sense of irony at taking shelter within a building devoted to the rival of Zaltec. In truth, Spirali felt little of anything.
The fight with the swordsman had exhausted him, but only daylight had forced him to teleport away from the battle. Even so, he was not certain he could have bested the human.
Indeed, these invaders were of a breed quite different from the natives of Maztica. Of course, he, like the other Ancient Ones, had long known of the lands across the sea, the lands referred to by their inhabitants as "the Forgotten Realms" or "The Sword Coast," or by other exotic names.
For many years, it had been the task of the Ancient Ones to prepare the land for the coming of these strangers, prepare it so that Zaltec would feed well and the Ancient Ones would grow strong.
Spirali regarded his problems coldly, dispassionately. Yet he nearly cursed when he thought of the girl escaping his arrow. That the missile had claimed the corpulent cleric was little satisfaction.
Now the hot sun blistered the world outside this stone building. Even the pale light spilling down the stairs burned his eyes and forced him to avert his gaze.
He could only wait until nightfall.
The white sails had remained visible against the horizon for several hours as Halloran and Daggrande, led by Erixitl, pressed westward along the shore. Eventually the fleet overtook them and continued on farther to the west, never coming closer to land.
The shoreline was mostly smooth beach backed by jungle, and they made good time. Along the way, they encountered several small groups of fishermen on the shore. These natives took one look at Halloran in his steel breastplate and blond hair or the grizzled visage of Daggrande scowling from beneath his heavy brows and quickly fled into the jungle or took to sea in their long canoes.
"I'd like to get my hands on one of those canoes," said Halloran as another trio of fishermen desperately paddled their slim craft through the surf, away from shore.
"Perhaps we can find one when we reach the delta," replied Erix. "I can take you that far before I turn toward Ulatos."
Late in the day, they saw the billowing canvas veer landward, and Hal's heart thrilled to the hope that the fleet would drop anchor and allow them to rejoin their companions. He tried, unsuccessfully, to bury the bleak sense of failure that would accompany his return. He felt, again, his guilt over Marline's loss. Somehow his shame seemed even more tarnished when he realized that he had been enjoying Erix's company for some time without a single thought of the Bish-ou's daughter. What kind of a man am I? he wondered.
"That is the delta, where the ships go now," explained the woman. She remembered descriptions of Uiatos she had heard from Kachin, complete with details and maps sketched on the ground. "I know there are many canoes-traders and fishermen and flower gatherers-working among the mangaroo groves."
The shorelands here were more open, and Daggrande clumped along ahead of the man and woman. Halloran saw large fields of the plump, rich vegetable they had sampled at every landing in Maztica. "I see you, too, make use of this 'mayz' plant," he observed to Erix as they passed a particularly lush field, separated from the beach by a row of palm trees and