Douglas Niles - Feathered Dragon

Westward with the wind, now, to Kultaka. The city has lost its traditional enemy, for Nexal is an empire no more. But instead, the Kultakans stand at the border of a hellish land, and so their warlike vigilance remains undying.

Then the wind swirls past the volcanoes of Zatal and Popol, touching only briefly the still smoldering valley of Nexal. It is as if the air here is an affront to this wind from the sea, and so it quickly soars upward and past the valley, leaving it as a stinking ruin, lair of many thousands of monstrous inhabitants. Somewhere, of course, beneath the muck and the ruin, an empire’s ransom in gold lies buried. And so it shall remain, if it is up to the wind.

Now the wind whistles to the south, along freshly ripening fields of mayz, down fertile valleys where once barren desert had lain. The wind follows these valleys to the rapidly growing city of Tukan, where the ways of the True World remain, but not untouched by the arrival of the foreigners. The gods of sacrifice are gone, banished by men who claim the world for themselves.

Here, in this strong city, a man and a woman come to live, and between them bring the strongest things of each of their worlds. Their child-soon, their children-grows and flourishes, and their home knows love and peace.

And the wind, as if satisfied, turns gently back to the sea.