Douglas Niles - Feathered Dragon

The captain allowed himself to reminisce as the sea wind tugged at his hair. He had followed a long and convoluted road to reach this point, but now every audacious step of that dangerous path would be made worthwhile.

The fleet progressed steadily, under the guidance of a veteran navigator named Rodolfo. Indeed, the man had been hailed as one of the most fearless sailors on the Trackless Sea. Years before, he had served Cordell when the captaingeneral had needed a fleet. Since then, the navigator had returned to land, though he had been willing enough to accept the fee offered by the princes to induce him to join this expedition.

“A fresh wind moves us. We make good time,” remarked Rodolfo, coming to join Don Vaez at the rail. The commander nodded disinterestedly, content to leave such details to his navigator. With a thin grimace, Rodolfo stalked away, but Don Vaez was still lost in his own thoughts.

He chuckled wryly as he thought of his earliest training, at the Academy of Stealth in Calimshan. What a terrible thief he had made! Why sneak through the night to snatch something surreptitiously, he had wondered, when he could walk up to the owner, bash him over the head with his sword, and take it in broad daylight?

The masters of the academy had reached the same conclusion, and Don Vaez and Calimshan had parted ways — for the most part amicably, since the masters had not taken a thorough inventory until their ex-student was a good distance away Aided by the disguises of a guileless servant girl, he had escaped from the city and journeyed north along the coast. The girl, he assumed, had paid for her complicity with her life, though he had never bothered to find out for sure.

Following these experiences, Don Vaez had served in one of the mercenary companies aiding Amn in its two-decade war against the pirates of the Sword Coast. After the unfortunate and mysterious demise of the company captain-no one had ever been able to identify the archer that had slain him from behind while he led his troops into battle-Don Vaez had risen to command the company. In this capacity, he had first attracted the attention of the merchant princes.

And in the same capacity, he had been forced to compete with the soldiering of Captain-General Cordell and his Golden Legion. When Cordell had won the ultimate victory against the scimitar-waving horde of the pirate lord, Akbet Khrul, Don Vaez’s rival had been assured the place of highest honor before the Council of Amn.

For the suddenly unemployed Don Vaez, there had been a lady-a very wealthy, albeit very married, lady Vet somehow her favor had carried him to the council again, now that Cordell had apparently disappeared and, the don hoped, betrayed his employers. Don Vaez had even wondered if the lady might be one of the merchant princes herself, though of course that fact would remain secret.

Nevertheless, her influence must have been significant, for he had been selected to command this glorious endeavor.

The merchant princes of Amn had given him a great force and a strong charter. Somewhere out there, he felt, his old rival Cordell was still alive. The gods would not, could not be cruel enough to deprive Don Vaez of the confrontation he so rightly deserved.

“You know that he lives out there, do you not?” The question came from Pryat Devane. The cleric, wearing a close-fitting cloth cap and a woolen cape, joined him at the rail of the ship.

“Cordell?” Don Vaez turned to the cleric, surprised at the man’s accurate guess. He smiled thinly. “Yes, I believe that we will… encounter him.”

“Good!” The pryat spoke sharply. “His reckless behavior has no doubt cost my mentor his life!”

“Bishou Domincus? You feel that he has been slain?”

“I’m certain of it,” announced the cleric. “But he will be avenged!”

“Indeed,” agreed the captain, turning back to the sea. It seemed that he had an ally, a spiritual brother, in this dour priest of Helm. And, remembering the flying carpet the princes had told him about, he felt that Pryat Devane could prove to be a very useful ally indeed.

In his mind, Don Vaez pictured the encounter with the defeated Cordell. The man would beg for mercy, and Don Vaez would make him wriggle and plead for his life. Of course, all the while he knew he would grant that life, for his moment of true triumph would not arrive until he returned with Cordell to Amn and marched the traitorous mercenary through the streets of Murann in chains.

Or in a cage, perhaps. Suddenly Don Vaez had an inspiration! He would take the gold of this new world-some of the gold, anyway-and he would have a cage made. The cage would be mounted on gilded wheels, and within it would ride the grand prisoner of his expedition.

Yes, thought Don Vaez. That would be a fitting return home for the leader of the Golden Legion. With this idea, and a thin smile on his too-handsome lips, Don Vaez went to his cabin below decks to sleep.

And, of course, to dream.

“How many were there? Did you have a chance to count?” asked Halloran.

The youth, Jhatli, looked at him suspiciously. Intelligence gleamed in the lad’s eyes, but so too did anger and hatred. I can’t blame him for that, Hal thought.

Along with Daggrande and Gultec, Hal tried to coax description from the youth. Erixitl slept nearby, exhausted finally by the day’s march. Somewhere overhead, Hal knew, the eagle waited for them. In the morning, they would need to face a difficult decision: head for water, or follow the path of this great bird of prey.

For now, they sat around a small campfire, using some of their precious firewood to light this council. Some of the Maztican scouts had told them Jhatli’s tale, and his heart broke for the pain the young man had suffered. At the same time, anything he could tell them about the nature and tactics of the pursuing horde could prove very useful.

Not as many as my band… less than a thousand. They burst from the rocks as we passed, attacking by surprise. I don’t know of anyone else who escaped,” Jhatli said after a brief pause. “I got away only because I was just returning from my hunt. I was separated from the main group, but I could see them.”

His dark eyes flashed. “We could return and kill them. with your warriors and their silver weapons! They can all be killed!”

“No,” Hal sighed, with a shake of his head. “By now they’ve certainly grown in number. You saw just a small portion of the mob that pursues us.”

The youth’s eyes darkened and his body tensed. Then he settled back, though his voice carried a hint of a sneer. “Very well, but I will kill many of them when 1 get the chance!”

“A warrior, eh?” said Daggrande, the dwarf’s voice uncharacteristically gentle.

“Yes… one who is not afraid to seek a battle!”

“Careful, young man,” Gultec growled, his face grim between the fanged jaws of his jaguar-skull helmet. Jhatli’s eyes widened, then fell to the ground.

“I–I’m sorry,” the young man sighed, his breath ragged.

“I know the fury that compels you to battle,” Halloran told Jhatli, “but that rage must be tempered by wisdom, or it will only destroy you.”

The youth looked at him, anger still flashing in his black eyes. But then he lowered his gaze back to the fire, a weakness suddenly collapsing his posture.

“Come on, lad.” The dwarf, speaking his awkward Nexalan, clapped Jhatli on the shoulder. “Let’s go find something for you to eat.”

Gultec and Halloran sat in silence for a time, the desert growing dark around them. Finally the Jaguar Knight spoke. “It galls me, this constant flight from an enemy we cannot see.”

“And me,” Halloran agreed. “Yet what choice do we have- to stand and die, along with all these people, before a horde of unnatural beasthood?”