As the fort's construction progressed, rocks and earth had also been dumped into the bay, and now a solid jetty extended perhaps a hundred feet from shore. An additional pier, crossing the T of the jetty, took form, and carracks and caravels pulled up to the solid barrier. No longer did all loading and unloading depend upon the ships' small boats.
Daggrande continued his inspection of the rampart. The hilltop would soon be circled by a ten-foot-high dirt wall, with a five-foot deep ditch on the outside. A small opening had been left, free of ditch and wall, but Darien claimed to know a spell that would fill this gap in a moment. Daggrande did not doubt her.
The dwarf moved around to the far side of the redoubt, facing inland. This entire length had been the first completed, and no one was working here now. Daggrande climbed to the top of the wall and looked south. The belt of coastal plain surrounding Ulatos quickly met a deep jungle. The legionnaires had heard tales of a land called Far Payit, in the distant reaches to the south, but little was known of that heavily forested reach.
The natives of Ulatos had proven most cooperative, arriving at Helmsport laden with food, octal, and featherwork, but no more gold. These days Cordell studied his map, consulting again and again with the men who had seen Nexal. Images of that city — gold-lined images, Daggrande felt certain — had begun to dominate the commander's thoughts.
The dwarf himself didn't like the prospect of a long campaign on this foreign shore, so far from a supply and reinforcement base. At least here, beside Ulatos, they were close to their ships. The fleet represented ultimate safety against a people whose largest craft was the canoe.
Nexal was an inland city, many days' march from the sea. Surely even Cordell would not be so rash as to lead his small group, a bare five hundred men, into the heart of a nation whose army must number many tens of thousands! But beneath all his reflections, Daggrande was a legionnaire, sworn to obey his captain-general. And such he would always do, or die.
Daggrande's musings were interrupted by the sound of hushed voices. Scowling, he looked along the length of the wall, then into the redoubt behind him, but he saw nobody near him. Leaning slightly forward, he looked down the outer slope of the wall and saw several captains, including the usually dependable Garrant. Leaning farther, but crouching so as to remain hidden, the dwarf recognized the hat of the Assessor of Amn, Kardann.
It was the latter who spoke.
"He means to see us die here for his own aggrandizement!" Kardann's urgency carried even through the whisper of his voice. "Any sensible man would send for reinforcements and build up an army here before marching inland to seize more land!"
"Aye," grunted Captain Leone, a brave but unimaginative captain of longbowmen. "I've heard the army we fought here is nothin' next to the men they can muster inland."
"We must send to Amn for more forces!" persisted the assessor, "It would not mean abandonment of this base. We'd only need to send a few ships, enough to get the treasure safely back."
"It's the sensible thing to do," grunted another captain. Daggrande didn't recognize him beneath the brim of his helm.
"Perhaps we should all talk to the general…" suggested Garrant.
"No!" hissed Kardann. "He fears too much for his own power. We would only scare him into doing something rash. Instead, I have another plan…"
A sudden wind whirled off the bay, and Daggrande ducked backward, startled. The whispers of the warm breeze drowned out the whispers of treachery from below, but Daggrande had heard enough.
It was time to find the captain-general.
By day they stumbled until fatigue claimed them, collapsing into whatever minimal shelter the land might offer. They would steal a few hours of sleep in the afternoon, but then night fell, and soon the howling commenced again. Each night it drew closer, until it resounded through the forest, as if the pack were about to burst through the nearest line of trees. Still, after four nights of desperate flight, keeping always to unpopulated lands, barren wildernesses of jungle and swamp, they had yet to catch sight of their pursuers.
Halloran thought many times about stopping and fighting the faceless pack, challenging them with Helmstooth. But something in the sinister noises from bestial throats convinced him that such a challenge would be folly.
And, too, the thought of this woman facing a death as bloody and violent as Martine's was too terrifying for contemplation. The bitter image of the sacrifice still tortured Hal's memory. He felt certain that Erixitl's death would drive him mad.
They progressed slowly through the rough terrain, still encountering no sign of human habitation — at least, current human habitation. Many brush-covered mounds dotted the land, especially among the clearings. A close examination of several proved them to be overgrown pyramids, from a time long past. The land grew more open, still covered with jungle in patches but also offering areas of open meadow or grassland.
Corporal proved his fine greyhound's instincts over and over as he darted into the brush or across a short stretch of prairie, often returning with a turkey, rabbit, and once even a monkey. With this limited supply of meat, and the many fruits offered by the jungle, they did not suffer from hunger.
But still the driving, terrifying howling greeted them at night, driving them onward, always growing closer. They spoke little, sharing a pervasive sense of fear. Only in the mornings, after the howling had ceased for the day, would they sometimes pause for rest and quiet conversation.
"Who was she?" asked Erix one morning.
Halloran knew whom she meant, but he wasn't sure how to explain how he felt about Martine. He and Erix had just collapsed in a relatively open jungle clearing several hours after dawn. Since the pursuit grew closer every night in any event, they had decided that it didn't make sense to exhaust themselves during the day.
"She was a headstrong girl. I was charged with her safety."
"Was she your… wife? Your woman?" asked Erix lensely.
Halloran looked at her in surprise. "No." Suddenly the memory of his infatuation with Martine seemed foolish and embarrassing. Her death would remain a shocking barbarity in his memory, but it was the death of an innocent victim, not the loss of a true love. He shook his head emphatically. "No. She was the daughter of our priest. He brought her along with the expedition."
He remembered all the other ways he had once hoped to describe Martine, as his lady, his lover, even his wife. But all of those images now seemed ridiculous and absurd. The woman he desired was nothing like Martine. His woman was coolly intelligent, courageous, forgiving…
She was Erixitl. Halloran looked at her, and this time he allowed himself to fall into those deep, dark eyes. He felt their warmth around him, and then he was holding her and nothing else seemed to matter.
"You frighten me, Captain Halloran," she whispered to him as they lay together on the soft grasses. "But I am not afraid."
Daggrande did not find Cordell until evening, when he saw the captain-general on the shore beside the jetly, admiring the project with Domincus and Darien. Torches lined the pier, reflecting in the clear water of the lagoon and illuminating the work that would proceed far into the night. The dwarf scowled in concentration as he remembered the treachery he had overheard upon the wall.
"Splendid work on the harbor, Captain, simply splendid!" Cordell gestured at the T-shaped pier. "The earthworks are proceeding well, too. We were up there earlier."