“Then I pray that we shall remain on those terms,” said Chical. The warrior stretched and rose to his feet. “Now,” he added, “I will get some sleep. I must fly far in the morning.”
“They await us in the mountain heights,” reported Hittok The drider had skulked forward, dangerously close to rear of the fleeing Itza column, to gain his information. Fortunately the night was dark, and the drider’s vision was far more acute than any human’s under these conditions.
“They flee no longer?” Darien heard the words of her comrade, and already her mind wondered at the reasons behind the news.
The long column of ants had slowed to a crawl, as even the nearly indefatigable creatures felt the strain of the long climb and the days of ceaseless marching. The white drider allowed them to pause in this mountain valley, not so much to rest as to allow the rear of the long column to catch up. Then when she pressed ahead in the morning, she would be able to bring her entire force to bear.
“So far as I could tell” Hittok continued to detail his findings. “I saw many warriors positioned along a rocky crest that rolls across the valley. Beyond them, I did not go. It could be that, as before, the men sacrifice themselves that their women and children can escape.” Hittok’s voice showed his scorn for the tactic.
“They cannot do so for many more battles,” noted Darien grimly. “We killed more than a hundred of them the last time, when they took us by surprise. Now if they wait for us, we shall be prepared.”
“Indeed,” agreed the black drider. “The valley bottom is open before them. The ants can spread into a wave and quickly sweep up and over them”
“But they must have some plan,” countered Darien. Her alabaster features twisted into a frown. “Humans do not sacrifice themselves for no purpose.”
“Perhaps,” Hittok said with a shrug, “they only desire to die like men.”
“Perhaps,” said Darien quietly. Still, the thoughtful expression on her face as she examined the mountain height before them showed that she remained unconvinced.
“Gigantius!” shouted Halloran at the instant the Lord of Jaguars sprang. The spell of enlargement, one of the last he had learned from Darien’s spellbook, was the only enchantment that leaped into his mind. Once he had employed a potion to expand his size; now he tried to emulate that effect with a memorized enchantment.
He saw a nightmare visage of feline hatred, jaws widespread, streak toward his face. The light spell still illuminated the pit, but by now the great cat’s eyes had adjusted, and his aim was true.
Halloran met the creature’s leap with a charge of his own. His hands wrapped around the beast’s neck as all the strength in his arms and shoulders combined to hold the deadly fangs away from him.
Razor-sharp claws raked across his breastplate. The cat shrieked in rage, its powerful muscles driving its jaws slowly toward Hal’s face. He twisted, thinking only that he needed to keep the creature away from Erixitl, and the two of them rolled across the ground in the pit.
The monstrous jaguar squirmed, the claws of its hind feet scoring deep gashes in Halloran’s legs. Only the pluma cuffs at the man’s wrists saved his life, pumping strength into his grip and slowly forcing the drooling fangs back from his face.
The great cat twisted again, and Hal pushed it away, the;(force of his act shoving him back against the wall of the pit. The cat crouched, snarling, but suddenly it seemed smaller than it had before. Halloran loomed over the beast, staring down into those blazing, hate-filled eyes.
Then he realized what was happening. The spell had taken effect. Vaguely he sensed the Little People shrieking! in horror and fleeing back from the edges of the pit. Erixitl, lying against the wall at the base of the enclosure, held her hands protectively over her belly as she gaped up at him. For the first time, he saw fear in the Lord of the Jaguars’ blazing yellow eyes.
The spell increased his size, although it did not enhance his strength. Still, the pluma around his wrists and the fear and anger burning in his own heart gave him strength that he would not otherwise have possessed.
He lunged at the monstrous cat as the creature tried to spring toward Erixitl. It twisted in midair, dragging its sharp talons across Hal’s forearm and leaving cuts that quickly welled with blood, But the man stood now nearly fifteen feet tall, and he seized the monster by the scruff of its neck.
The cat howled in terror as he lifted it from the base of the pit, raising it over his head and shaking it. The pluma and his rage possessed him, made him a man mad with battle lust. With a grunt of effort, he hurled the shrieking, spitting beast from the pit, full into the faces of a pair of gaping villagers.
The little folk screamed in terror, bolting away from the horrifying apparition of the flying jaguar. The cat, itself fully terrified, landed on its feet, crouched, and sprang toward the shelter of the surrounding forest. In another instant, the black shape disappeared into the equally dark confines of the enshrouding jungle.
“Come on!” he urged, reaching down and lifting Erixitl up to the edge of the pit. His mind whirled with images of poisoned arrows, and he knew that it would be mere moments before the warriors recovered their senses enough to shoot. His size, he realized, would be no protection against the strike of one of those venomous missiles.
He sprang upward after Erixitl and then crouched beside her, trying to shield her from the natives. Where could they go? How could they get away?
Even as he groped for answers, he saw that it was too late. The area around the pit was crowded with warriors, all of them armed with the deadly darts. Bellowing in rage, he stood up and lunged forward, determined to smash a few of the archers before he died.
Then he slowed his charge, halting after a few steps to look around in puzzlement. The light spilled from the pit, clearly illuminating the painted halflings. One by one, they laid down their weapons and fell on their faces, pressing themselves to the ground in obeisance.
The one who had seemed to be the chief crawled forward. He looked up at Halloran. his face twisted by fear and grief. He moaned something, then hastily pressed his face back to the ground.
“What’s going on?” Hal wondered aloud, looking back to Erixitl. The chief, speaking to her, repeated his words in the language of Palul.
“He calls you Master,” she said, her voice full of wonder, “and begs your apology. He says that he didn’t know who you were.”
“And who does he think I am?”
“He says that you are the king, destined to lead them from the jungle-just as it was foretold in the prophecy.”
“Here-footprints beside this pool!” Luskag gestured to the ground, and Daggrande trotted over to the desert dwarf. They had traced Halloran and Erixitl’s path from the day before to this sheltered pool, where the towering waterfall spilled from the heights above.
“And here!” called Jhatli from the underbrush nearby “There are many prints, as if a group of warriors waited in ambush.”
Daggrande’s heart tripped in fear. He turned to the young] man as Jhatli looked up at him in puzzlement. “What is it, lad?”
The crossbow-wielding legionnaire, together with Jhatli and a score of desert dwarves, had followed the trail- The rest of the dwarves scoured the surrounding country, except for a few who remained guarding the camp with Lotil and Coton.
“The warriors must have been children,” lie explained. “Their feet were very small.”
In moments, the young hunter had found the path beneath the encloaking vines, and in another minute, the stair way through the rocky niche stood revealed.
“They must have gone this way, whoever they were.” Jhatli guessed.” And they probably look Halloran and Erixitl with them!” For once, the youth did not loudly proclaim his intent to attack and kill whatever enemies stood in their path. Indeed, Jhatli’s face was creased by a frown of deep, undeniable concern.
*Should we get the rest of the dwarves?” asked Luskag, with a look to Daggrande.
“Let’s go,” grunted Daggrande, hefting his shining axe. “Once we find out what we’re up against, we send for
