awareness, all of his hatred, all of his rage, focused against that distant, slowly moving spot of color.
Hoxitl’s heavy eyelids drooped over his wicked, gleaming eyes as he pondered this mysterious development. The great mass of humans, he knew, continued to flee along the valley floor. Yet the one who now climbed the desolate ridge must be one of special significance. Certainly the power of the pluma he had just witnessed indicated this.
He could not ignore the mass of victims awaiting his army. No, the taste of blood on the previous day had been too sweet, too tempting. Yet neither could he ignore the spoor leading to the east, into the desert.
He gestured to his trolls, long-limbed creatures who were very fleet of foot. “Pursue those who slip away to the east,” Hoxitl ordered.
The green-skinned creatures lumbered away, in groups of three and four, from the rest of Hoxitl’s army. Finally several hundred of the monsters-all of the trolls-broke away, heading for the sheer ridge. They lumbered forward in the rolling gait typical of the long-limbed creatures. The beastlord knew that they would move quickly and inexorably after the pathetic humans.
Hoxitl turned back to the rest of his beasts, the crowded mass of ores and ogres. These he led toward the south, in the direction taken by the warm bodies that would make food for his hungry god.
Jhatli sat beside the trail, watching the long columns of his countrymen march past. They followed the unobstructed route of the valley, toward the water and food that they knew lay before them. The sight of yet another sullen youth, apparently without friend or family, was no longer enough to stir their hearts, so the Nexalans passed Jhatli with neither a look nor a word.
Running,.. fleeing! Jhatli looked at his countrymen in scorn. Was that all they could do? Why didn’t they stand and fight? This was no life for a warrior… or one who would be a warrior.
Still, it was the life led by the Nexala now. The youth shook his head angrily, looking to the north, imagining the lumbering horde over the distant horizon. How long until they reached these people, until they forced them into a battle for which they were not prepared?
Finally Jhatli cast a look back over his shoulder. The first thing he noticed was the great eagle, soaring high in the sky to the east. Looking down, he spotted the trio: Erixitl, the Lady of the Plume; and the two soldiers, Halloran and Daggrande.
He didn’t know where they went, but he suspected that it involved the hideous beasts that pursued them all. His own promise for revenge still burned in Jhatli’s heart, and so he watched them carefully.
He had heard the story that the eagle was in fact Lord Poshtli. Jhatli well remembered that noble warrior, proud and aloof in his feathered cloak and his great, beaked helmet. Such a warrior, in the guise of this bird, would be a powerful ally and a wise leader.
Now Erixitl and her companions had broken away from the great bulk of the people to follow that eagle. It was only natural that Jhatli resolved to follow the eagle, too.
He waited until the three had begun to climb the rugged ridge that bordered the valley. Then he turned away from the column and trotted toward the same ridge, but some distance to the left of where Erix and her companions climbed it. Again the people took no notice-another youth trotting off to a fruitless hunt in the desert. Too bad his parents didn’t keep him under control. Didn’t they know that danger lurked out there?
Jhatli held his pace easily, quickly scrambling into a narrow, boulder-strewn ravine that seemed to lead up the ridge. For long minutes he climbed, sweat pouring from his wiry brown body. His footsteps fell sure, though, and his strong hands and arms pulled him through several narrow spots.
Finally he reached a small gap in the ravine that allowed him to step out onto a small shoulder of the ridge. He had climbed most of the way to the top, he saw. Perhaps half a mile away, he saw the flaming colors of Erixitl’s cloak, already at the crest.
Suddenly Jhatli felt very dizzy. He looked at the cloak again, and the colors began to spin, weaving an incredibly beautiful pattern, images of birds and flowers and butterflies of every hue, before his eyes. Shaking his head in confusion, Jhatli sat down and looked away.
It was then that he saw the massive horde of monsters gathered on the valley floor, stretching to the far limits of his vision until they vanished into the rising cloud of dust made by their march. Unconsciously the youth recoiled against the rock, appalled at the extent of the horde.
Then he noticed movement closer to where he crouched. He saw a small group of creatures-huge, gangly beasts with green skin and gaping, fang-studded jaws-moving steadily away from the mass. They came forward in long strides, toward the ridge he watched from. In fact, they came toward the very ravine he had followed in his climb.
They came toward him’
The colors faded as Halloran and Daggrande looked at Erixitl in astonishment. For a second, the pair had stood in the warm wash of light, very bright yet somehow vaguely cooling in the dry desert air.
“How-how did you do that?” Hal asked softy.
“It is the power of pluma” she answered, suddenly uncomfortable, “didn’t do anything. But look, it seems to have captured their attention!”
Indeed, they saw the horde in the valley surge toward them. Even at this distance, they heard the shrieks and howls, felt the pounding of weapons and feet upon the
ground.
“Let’s go!” Hal urged, and they swiftly started down the opposite side of the slope. Though they could no longer see the beasts of the Viperhand, the presence of the monsters lurked like a heavy cloud just beyond the ridge. They knew that soon it would wash up and over.
They saw with dismay that they descended toward a torturous landscape of jagged gullies, sharp outcrops of rock, and broad stretches of cracked and broken ground. Far away, blue with haze even through the clear air, stood another ridgeline.
Above them, the eagle still floated effortlessly through the sky. The great bird circled slowly, always leading them eastward. If they followed him, they would have to traverse the bleak and tortured ground before them.
“How are we going to cross that?” groaned Halloran.
“There! Follow Poshtli” Erix pointed as the great eagle dove toward the ground. It appeared to follow the course of a twisting, broken chasm. From where they stood, they couldn’t see the bottom.
Half-sliding, half-scrambling, they plunged down the steep slope. Their route took them right to the lip of the gully, and they saw a fairly clear floor of dirt. It took but another minute to find a negotiable route down into the gulch.
They looked upward between a pair of steep, rocky cliffs and saw only a narrow strip of sky above. On the bottom, they felt a little more secure, since only something airborne or standing at the very lip of the little canyon would be able to see them. Puffing with exertion, they started along the level ground, relieved to see that the eagle followed each twist and turn of the canyon above them.
For several hours, they pressed forward, not speaking, dripping with sweat, pausing only long enough to take a few drops of refreshment from their still-bulging waterskins.
Fortunately the canyon floor followed a generally eastward course, with many small twists leading slightly to the north or south.
It was at their third brief rest, as each rationed a few tiny drops from the skins, that Hal stiffened. Immediately the other two came alert. Daggrande’s eyebrows raised questioningly.
“1 heard something,” Halloran mouthed silently. He drew Helmstooth, his keen longsword, and began to creep along the canyon floor. A few feet before them, the gully curved to the right, concealing the next stretch of its course.
Crouching, Hal raised the sword before him as he approached the turn. Then he sprang forward, turning to the side and stabbing the weapon viciously.
He almost fell as he suddenly twisted away, desperately pulling back before his thrust struck home. His initial astonishment grew into full-blown shock.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
Daggrande and Erix watched in amazement as Jhatli crept from behind the concealing rock.
