considerations he had faded to the background in the face of one truth that had become totally clear to him: These newcomers to Maztica must join him and accept him as their leader. He would not subordinate his force, small and beleaguered though it was, to another. And to this end, Kardann might prove useful. As he thought, plans began to crystallize in his mind. He grew anxious, pacing absently as he prepared to take action.
Finally the legionnaires and the Kultakan chiefs had gathered, so Cordell turned to speak to them all. Briefly he explained the news brought by Carac. The legionnaires raised a hearty cheer when they heard that more of their countrymen had landed in the True World. If any were as puzzled or concerned as Cordell about the origins of this new expedition, they kept their misgivings to themselves. Then, referring to the map of Maztica provided by Chical, he began to give specific orders.
“Horsemen, you will prepare your mounts for a long ride-across the continent, back to Helmsport. We will reach die anchorage, where the ships now await us.” He studied the faces of his men, his voice ringing confidently. They looked back, filled with hope and enthusiasm for the plan, any plan, that would bring them closer to a return to the Sword Coast.
“I want the footmen and Tokol, with your Kultakans, to march southeastward from here. You will reach the coast of a tropical sea. Your force will be some five thousand strong.”
His men shouted hurrahs. None raised any questions or objections, and indeed Cordell would have been very surprised if they had.
“It is my intention to send the fleet at Helmsport-twenty-five ships in all, according to the count of our good eagle- around the Payit peninsula. They will meet you at the coast, and there you will embark for the return to Helmsport. One* we have gathered there, fully reinforced, we will be ready to stand against the Viperhand.” Or any other threat that I identify, his mind added silently Cordell admitted to himself that his purposes, in his own mind, had not yet fully crystallized. He only knew that he saw potential before him that he would not have imagined a few days earlier.
“The warriors of Nexal will remain here,” he continued. “The threat to the north has receded, hut not disappeared entirely. However, with the breastworks on the ridge and steady vigilance, Tukan will remain safe.
“Then, when all of our forces have gathered, we will be ready to claim Maztica together for humankind!”
Once again his men raised a cheer, and this lime the Mazticans joined in.
“I don’t even care that it’s salty,” Halloran admitted, with*in expansive gesture across the rich blue Sea of Azul. “It’s wet, and a lot cooler than the air.”
“It’s better than that accursed desert, I’ll grant you that,” Daggrande agreed. He gestured toward the long file of desert dwarves marching before them. “How they can live that hellhole is beyond me.”
“How did they come to be there?” Jhatli asked. “Often I have heard of the Hairy Men of the Desert, but no human had ever seen them before, or so it is said”
The trio brought up the rear of their group as they marched along the sandy shore. A short distance ahead Erixitl rode Storm, while Coton and Lotil followed behind the horse.
The barren terrain of the desert stretched to the limits of the horizon to the left, yet the companions were considerably refreshed during this portion of their march. The blue waters of the Sea of Azul, to their right, provided an often used cooling agent. In addition, the smooth, sandy beach made for much easier traveling than had the rough ground of the desert.
The latter fact was of particular importance to Halloran, who had grown increasingly worried about Erixitl and the child who now rounded her belly to a rich fullness. Across the desert, during the many weeks of the trek to the sea, she had walked steadily. But the rugged journey had taken its toll, and though she tried to conceal her moments of weakness, the caring eyes of her husband were not deceived.
She had protested only feebly when he insisted that she ride the horse, and now she spent most of each day in the saddle. Lotil had ridden through the roughest of the desert, but now, on the smooth sand of the beach, the blind man found the walking easier. He proved apparently tireless over the long days of march, as long as he had a hand on a horse or companion to show him the way.
Halloran knew that the long trek had been very hard on Erixitl, though she bore the strain with little complaining. She had never spoken of the terrible loss she must have felt after giving up her feathered token, though Hal knew she had carried the object since girlhood. Not only was it a cherished memento of her father, but it was also a token with magical powers that had saved their lives more than once.
He knew, in fact, that it had saved their lives one last time when she used it to secure passage through the Halls of the Dead.
Lotil still carried the pluma bundle with him, and when they stopped each evening, he carefully worked a few more feathers into the cotton mesh. The design there had not yet begun to take shape, yet Halloran saw bright colors and a magical sense of beauty in the small portion of the pluma fabric already completed.
Hal turned back to his companions, realizing that Daggrande was answering Jhatli’s question about the desert dwarves.
Luskag told me the story, at least as much as they know of it.” The grizzled legionnaire had found that, despite the vast differences in their backgrounds, the desert dwarves and he basically spoke the same dwarven tongue, with minor variations. He spent much time talking with the chieftains, exchanging stories and experiences with his unusual cousins.
“It happened after a war with the drow-one of the wars that dwarves have always fought with the drow. Something they call the Rockfire destroyed the caverns and tunnels that connected them to the rest of dwarvenhood. It must have been some underground volcano, or an earthquake, maybe.
“Anyhow, they thought that all (he drow had been killed, and they thought that being cut off from their kin was a small price to pay to get rid of their worst enemies. It seems that this is the first warfare they’ve known since that time.”
“They’re certainly good at it, for folks who are out of practice,” Halloran said. The memory, nearly two months old, of the desert dwarves’ timely arrival in the battle with the trolls lived fresh in his mind. They all knew that they had faced certain and imminent death.
Now they marched with the dwarves in friendship, enjoying the gruff curiosity and solid competence of the Hairy Men of the Desert. The friendship had grown quickly to respect as together they had borne the rigors of the desert trail. Days of blazing sun had followed one after the other,
broken only by short, clear nights of startling chill. Their only water had come from the plump, precious cactus that the desert dwarves seemed to be able to smell from miles’ away, or from the blessed magic of Coton’s clerical power. They had shared the food he created among all of them, and somehow they had stayed alive.
And when the pair of fire lizards had attacked the companions and the desert dwarves, their respect had become an unbreakable bond, for they proved in battle that each possessed courage and skill worthy of the other. Two dwarves had paid with their lives in the first brunt of the attack as the giant, dragonlike creatures had charged from their dry caves.
But the keen missiles from Daggrande and Jhatli had distracted one, while Luskag had led his dwarves in a circular attack against the second. Halloran, with Helmstooth carving a deadly swath through the desert air, had felled the first with a blow to its neck, while the plumastone weapon of the desert dwarves had disemboweled the second.
The fight had also provided the one night of epic feasting along the barren trail when they seared the tough meal on hot fires of brush and pretended they were devouring the tenderest of delicacies.
“And now the Hairy Men march with us to Twin Visages? Jhatli was still trying to get a picture of this vast land called Maztica. Though he had lived here all of his life, until four months earlier he had never been beyond the valley of Nexal.
“The story goes that they had some kind of collective vision-at a place they call the Sunstone,” Daggrande explained. “I’d like to see it sometime-a lake, high inside a mountain, that seems to be made of silver!” The dwarf shook his head in wonder. “There they saw an image of darkness, and a flower of light within it. As soon as they saw Erixitl, according to Luskag, they recognized her as that flower. So now they’ve pledged to help her drive back the darkness.”
