quiet as they began the climb up the trail. The animals were quiet, the wind too, as the hundreds of boots commenced the trudge upwards.
Xaxmax was in the lead, Colonel Ganganez and his personal bodyguards right behind him. Ganganez carried just a pistol and a sword; his bodyguards carried heavy bulletproof armor shields, not for themselves, but to protect their leader with, should it come to that.
The trail was thick with fauna the first hour of marching. The column, which had started out with much enthusiasm, began almost imperceptibly to slow down thirty minutes into the hike. Ganganez didn’t realize it, his men didn’t either. But Xaxmax could tell. It was very obvious to him.
The second hour brought more heat from the sun and more silence from the jungle around them. The column stopped once for a water break and again, just twenty minutes later, to allow those at the rear to catch up. This took ten minutes, and while those at the front of the column waited restlessly, they drank more water, depleting their rations needlessly.
Xaxmax, on the other hand, was enjoying the march, his new hat, and his new sunglasses. Moreover, he was enjoying the warmth and the scenery and the cosmic amusement of no animals growling, no birds singing, and no wind blowing.
The delay was prolonged when two of the men at mid column collapsed from the heat Ganganez angrily sent them back down the mountain, taking their water and weapons from them and casting them adrift on the winding, confusing mountain trail. Xaxmax doubted they would reach the bottom of the hill alive, but that didn’t seem to be a concern to Ganganez.
The column began again. They were now approaching the end of the tree line, maybe 4,000 feet up the side of the mountain, and entering a stretch of brush, thick bushes, and vines. Xaxmax stepped lightly over and around these obstacles, but the soldiers, marching three across, had a harder time of it. The column slowed even further.
Another half hour passed. The sun became brutal. The air absolutely still. Suddenly, there came much shouting from the rear of the column. Ganganez called his men to a halt once again and watched in growing irritation as a runner from the back of the column approached.
“Twenty men are missing, sir,” the man told the colonel.
“Missing?” Ganganez asked, more confused than anything. “Well, just wait for them to catch up.”
But the man was shaking his head no.
“They are gone, sir,” he was saying. “One minute they were there. The next— vamoose! We went back to where we last saw them. We found their guns at the trail’s edge. Their boots too. But the men themselves are gone.”
Ganganez just stared back at the man. He was talking crazy. If his men had fallen off a cliff, or if they’d deserted or given up the hike, surely they wouldn’t have left their boots behind. Or their guns.
“Take a count,” Ganganez ordered his lieutenants. “Quickly!”
But taking a count of a 700-man column was not a thing that could be done quickly. The men began sounding off, but it was time-consuming. The column was so stretched out by now, it took runners several minutes to move up to Ganganez’s position with updates on the counting process. But when the final tally reached him, things were more confusing then ever. Now forty-three men were missing. All of them from the end of the column, all of them inexplicably leaving their boots and weapons behind.
Ganganez was now more confused than ever. He ordered all his men to prepare arms, then made a call back to the base camp in the village, to see if the forty-three missing men had been spotted below.
But there was no reply.
That’s when Ganganez pulled Xaxmax down off a rock and held him tightly around the throat.
“What is happening here, bird-head?” he asked him in the ancient Intez language.
Xaxmax had his answer already prepared.
“Your men will meet us at the top of the mountain,” he said.
He pried himself loose and
Xaxmax was in the lead, Colonel Ganganez and his personal bodyguards right behind him. Ganganez carried just a pistol and a sword; his bodyguards carried heavy bulletproof armor shields, not for themselves, but to protect their leader with, should it come to that.
The trail was thick with fauna the first hour of marching. The column, which had started out with much enthusiasm, began almost imperceptibly to slow down thirty minutes into the hike. Ganganez didn’t realize it, his men didn’t either. But Xaxmax could tell. It was very obvious to him.
The second hour brought more heat from the sun and more silence from the jungle around them. The column stopped once for a water break and again, just twenty minutes later, to allow those at the rear to catch up. This took ten minutes, and while those at the front of the column waited restlessly, they drank more water, depleting their rations needlessly.
Xaxmax, on the other hand, was enjoying the march, his new hat, and his new sunglasses. Moreover, he was enjoying the warmth and the scenery and the cosmic amusement of no animals growling, no birds singing, and no wind blowing.
The delay was prolonged when two of the men at mid column collapsed from the heat Ganganez angrily sent them back down the mountain, taking their water and weapons from them and casting them adrift on the winding, confusing mountain trail. Xaxmax doubted they would reach the bottom of the hill alive, but that didn’t seem to be a concern to Ganganez.
The column began again. They were now approaching the end of the tree line, maybe 4,000 feet up the side of the mountain, and entering a stretch of brush, thick bushes, and vines. Xaxmax stepped lightly over and around these obstacles, but the soldiers, marching three across, had a harder time of it. The column slowed even further.
Another half hour passed. The sun became brutal. The air absolutely still. Suddenly, there came much shouting from the rear of the column. Ganganez called his men to a halt once again and watched in growing irritation as a runner from the back of the column approached.
“Twenty men are missing, sir,” the man told the colonel.
“Missing?” Ganganez asked, more confused than anything. “Well, just wait for them to catch up.”
But the man was shaking his head no.
“They are gone, sir,” he was saying. “One minute they were there. The next— vamoose! We went back to where we last saw them. We found their guns at the trail’s edge. Their boots too. But the men themselves are gone.”
Ganganez just stared back at the man. He was talking crazy. If his men had fallen off a cliff, or if they’d deserted or given up the hike, surely they wouldn’t have left their boots behind. Or their guns.
“Take a count,” Ganganez ordered his lieutenants. “Quickly!”
But taking a count of a 700-man column was not a thing that could be done quickly. The men began sounding off, but it was time-consuming. The column was so stretched out by now, it took runners several minutes to move up to Ganganez’s position with updates on the counting process. But when the final tally reached him, things were more confusing then ever. Now forty-three men were missing. All of them from the end of the column, all of them inexplicably leaving their boots and weapons behind.
Ganganez was now more confused than ever. He ordered all his men to prepare arms, then made a call back to the base camp in the village, to see if the forty-three missing men had been spotted below.
But there was no reply.
That’s when Ganganez pulled Xaxmax down off a rock and held him tightly around the throat.
“What is happening here, bird-head?” he asked him in the ancient Intez language.
Xaxmax had his answer already prepared.
“Your men will meet us at the top of the mountain,” he said.
He pried himself loose and
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