The rider's eyes met Erix's once, and she quickly looked down. She felt his gaze linger on her a moment longer, but then the red-bearded captain moved away. More and more legionnaires marched into the plaza behind him.
Soon came the imposing presence of Cordell himself. They had no difficulty identifying the man atop his prancing black charger. He held his piercing black eyes high, looking over the heads of the crowd. His steel breastplate gleamed, but it was his supremely confident, even arrogant posture that clearly marked him as the commander.
Behind Cordell came two more of whom Erixitl had heard much: the elven mage Darien, completely masked by her dark robe, and the tall, scowling Bishou Domincus.
Then row upon row of footmen marched forward, until nearly all of the strangers had entered the square. The file of their Kultakan and Payit allies approached the outskirts of the town.
Kalnak and Chical advanced and stood nearby, bowing deeply, as Cordell dismounted. They clapped their hands, and slaves hurried forward, placing bundles of presents on the ground and unwrapping them before the delighted captain-general.
They unwrapped large packages of brilliant feathers, capes of pluma, beautiful shells, and tokens of jade and coral. All was greeted with polite interest. Then finally a cloak was removed from atop a pair of large circular bowls, revealing in one a pile of fine gold dust. The other contained an equal pile of silver.
These, Erixitl saw without surprise, caused Cordell's eyes to flash. The captain-general involuntarily licked his lips, looking back and forth from the gold to the silver.
"These gifts are a token of love and friendship from Naltecona, Revered Counselor of Nexal," said Erix, in the common tongue of the strangers.
Instantly the legionnaires within earshot fell silent. She saw Cordell staring at her, his piercing black eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Where did you learn our speech?" he asked.
"It — it was a gift, bestowed upon me by Chitikas Couatl," she explained. "You would call it magic."
Cordell looked to Darien, invisible within her deeply cowled hood. The hood nodded, barely perceptibly. "Splendid!" boomed Cordell. "Please continue!"
"We are preparing a feast in your honor. We would be joyful if you would join our celebration."
"Of course we will!" Cordell threw back his head and laughed, in fine spirits. Erix wished she could stop there, but her instructions from Kalnak had been clear.
"We must please ask that your allies from Kultaka camp outside of the village. You see, they are the hereditary enemies of our people. There would certainly be trouble if they were allowed into the town."
Once again Cordell's eyes narrowed suspiciously, and he looked at the warriors arrayed behind Erix. Nearly a thousand men were visible around the village, but they were not carrying weapons, nor did they seem to be deployed for an attack. Neither he, nor Erix, knew of the thousands more concealed inside the houses or behind garden walls. Also unsuspected, another ten thousandmen lurked in the brushy cover around the village.
Apparently the captain-general's suspicions remained slumbering, for after a moment's thought, he nodded. "That seems to make sense. All right, consider it ordered! Bishou Domincus, tell Tokol he'll have to keep his men outside — on my orders."
"Yes, General," said the dour cleric, bowing and departing with a distasteful look at Erixitl and the warriors. As he left, Erix saw Cordell lean toward Darien and whisper something. The elven wizard nodded and turned away. She melted into the crowd of legionnaires and Mazticans as Cordell turned back to Erix.
The red-bearded captain, now on foot, clumped up to Cordell, his heavy horseman's boots scuffing across the pavement. Erixitl remembered that Halloran had told her his name was Alvarro. He stared at Erix again, and she squirmed under the pressure of his gaze. Surely he couldn't remember her. His mouth opened in a wide grin as he turned away, but she saw no sign in his eyes that he recognized her from the Payit battlefield.
"Now, what's this about a feast?" he asked.
Darien stepped carefully among the throng that had gathered in the plaza. The legionnaires, from long experience, moved quickly out of her path. Perhaps because of the troops' example, or else because her slight, muffled figure seemed mysterious and thus frightening, the villagers also moved aside to give her a wide berth.
Soon she found the type of place she sought — a shady path between two buildings, where several towering trees served to block out the sun. Also important, seven warriors relaxed here, enjoying the respite from the hot sun in the plaza. With relief, she threw back her hood. Even in the shade, the brightness was uncomfortable, but at last she could bare her head. And she must be unmasked in order to perform her assigned task.
Several Maztican warriors stood back as the elf walked among them. She smiled, passing her milky eyes over the men. When Darien smiled, she was a very beautiful woman indeed, and her beauty was not lost on these warriors.
"Come," she said to one, speaking the language of Nexal, which she had learned earlier through the casting of a simple spell.
The fellow, a tall, lanky spearman with a shirt of padded cotton and a headdress of green feathers, stepped quickly forward.
Darien led him down the pathway until they were out of earshot of his companions. Though these had started to follow Darien and the spearmen, another look from the mage — this one was not a smile — had quickly backed them off.
Darien reached her long white fingers to her ear and started playing with a strand of white hair. Her eyes stared into the warrior's, and then she passed a hand before her face.
"Ghirrina" she said, whispering the charm spell softly. Instantly the warrior's face relaxed into an expression of complete trust, and Darien knew the spell had been successful. The warrior now regarded her as a faithful friend and confidant.
She began to ask him questions, and he began to answer.
From the chronicles of Colon:
Seeking a worthy lord among a seething nest of godhood.
Zaltec's presence, always here, always hungry, is growing into a force to wrack the True World. The cult of the Viperhand, whereby young warriors — even some women and untrained youths — vow their hearts and souls and bodies to the god of war, has grown like a tumor in Nexal.
The god of the strangers, Helm, is also a presence I can feel. Eternally vigilant and watchful, he stakes his claim to Maztica boldly, a clear challenge to Zaltec.
Now, too, I have sensed a new and spidery essence, a goddess of darkness and evil such to make even Zaltec appear playful and benign. Her name is Lolth. This being is tied to the Ancient Ones, I know. She watches from a great distance, but her interest grows intense.
But she is also tied somehow to the strangers. This is a connection I cannot identify, but I sense that it is very real. And this frightens me deeply.
A connection between the True World and the land of these strangers that goes beyond the bounds of the human cultures is dangerous enough. A connection that is personified in the blackness of this spider queen has the potential for menace and disaster beyond belief.
A FEAST FOR VULTURES
Halloran and Poshtli clung to the horse and gave the powerful mare her head. Rejoicing in the countryside after weeks in the city, Storm galloped with the exaltation of a wild beast escaping to freedom from a cage.
The two men bore their steel swords. Halloran wore his breastplate, Poshtli the padded cotton armor of the Maztican warrior. Hal's other possessions — the potions, the spellbook, the leather snakeskin bond — these he had buried in the garden of his house back in Nexal.
They rode in grim silence, out of the valley of Nexal, past Cordotl, and along the mountain road. Their faces — one pale and bearded, framed in brown hair; the other brown, smooth, noble-featured beneath hair of black — reflected their inner turmoil.
Both of them were sick with fear for Erixitl.
Palul lay a mere two days' march by foot from Nexal, so they knew that the warriors of Naftecona's ambush had already arrived at the
ir destination. The question was whether or not the two of them could get there before Cordell.
Halloran spent every moment of silence cursing himself, an unrelenting stream of rebuke that slashed mercilessly from all sides. How could he have let her go? Wallowing in his self-pity, he had committed a criminal act of neglect against the woman he loved.
And by Helm, how he loved her! The feeling burned like never before, brought home by his acute fear.
"I asked her if she would become my wife," said Poshtli after Storm slowed to a brisk walk. Hal jerked upright. He felt suddenly embarrassed about his unnoticed presence at that meeting.
"You are a very lucky man."
"She refused me," the warrior said frankly. He chuckled, a forced good humor. "An honor any family in Nexal would hail, but she said no."
Stunned, Hal didn't dare speak. His embarrassment turned to shame over the blind assumption he had made. Slowly he realized that his stupidity had driven Erix from him in Nexal, sending her, all unwittingly, to the center of a vast and growing storm.
Angrily he kicked Storm's flanks, and the mare broke into a fast trot. Despite the load of two men, she held the pace for hour after hour.
"It will be evening before we reach the village," said Poshtli, observing their progress.
"We'll get there in time — before Cordell." Halloran spoke with a forced confidence he didn't feel. In truth, he did not know when the legion would arrive in Palul, or how much delay would follow before the ambush.
Neither of them wanted to think about the other possibility, the thought that battle could be raging in Palul even now. But they couldn't avoid thinking about it. The question kept coming back, rearing up and taunting them in their imaginations.
What if they were too late?
To Erixitl, the feast seemed a grand success. They ate melons and citrus and venison and mayz and beans and chocolate. The foreigners seemed to enjoy the food. They made a great deal of noise when they ate, talking and joking and laughing. She saw the square in its natural sunshine, without the ominous cloak of shadows that had been so often here before. Still, she found that she couldn't entirely forget the sense of dire portent that had come with that darkness.
Erix sat on a huge feathered blanket with Cordell and Bishou Domincus, and also the Jaguar Knight Kalnak and the Eagle Knight Chical. The dour cleric of Helm remained silent, but the three men of war seemed to greatly enjoy exchanging tales of battles through Erixitl's translation. The Mazticans expressed great interest in Cordell's equipment, and the general allowed them to examine the blade of his sword.
Some time shortly after the feast began, the robed elf-mage joined them. Looking at her slight figure — Darien was shorter than Erix, and far more petite than the human legionnaires — the Maztican woman found herself wondering what lay behind that deep, cowled hood. Erixitl easily understood why Halloran had always found the elven wizard's presence unsettling.
Darien sat beside Cordell. She leaned toward the captain-general and, though Erix could hear nothing, it seemed as though a silent message was passed from the wizard to the commander. Indeed, Cordell suddenly stiffened. His black eyes narrowed to dark spots, and below hooded lids, he shifted his gaze from Kalnak to Chical, and then to Erix. She squirmed under that penetrating stare, feeling an anger and menace there that had previously been absent.
But she had little time for musing or pondering. Kalnak and Chical had many words for the foreigners, and Erix was required to translate each statement.
"The Kultakans are old women," Kalnak was explaining. "It is no wonder you defeated them. Do they serve you well as slaves?"
"They are my allies, not my slaves," said Cordell pointedly. His voice had a new edge to it. "And in truth, they fought like men — on a battlefield, in a fight between armies."
Chical twisted uncomfortably beside Erix. She sensed that the Eagle Knight wished he were somewhere else. The Jaguar Knight Kalnak took no note, however.
"Perhaps the Kultakans fight well," Kalnak grudgingly admitted. His voice then became nearly a sneer. "But they are savages and barbarians when compared to the high culture of Nexal."
Erix translated loosely, trying to smooth the arrogance of the Jaguar Knight. It was a great breach of manners to talk so rudely to a guest, and she didn't understand why Kalnak was doing so. At least Cordell didnt seem to take particular offense. In fact, the bearded general seemed mildly distracted.
"If you'll excuse me, I have to tend to the comfort of my men. I'll be back presently. Bishou, Darien, come with me please." Cordell stood up and, with a deep bow, left them to move among his feasting troops.
The plaza of Palul was crowded with humanity. The five hundred men of the Golden Legion were gathered in several large groups, each surrounded by Mazticans who fed them and offered jugs of the mildy alcoholic octal. Thousands of natives feasted here, too, while children dashed about and mothers tried to keep track of their offspring.
The horses, in particular, proved magnetic to the little ones, who gathered around the steeds. With the permission of the riders, some of the bolder children stepped forward to offer carrots, ears of mayz, and other treats to the mounts. Erix saw one tall, gangly youth who wore a headband decorated with macaw feathers in imitation of a warrior. This one actually stroked the muzzle of one of the chargers.
Beside the mounts, great war hounds lolled on the stones. Their long tongues hung from their loose jaws, and they drooled, panting in the heat.
Erix saw Bishou Domincus go over to the horsemen and talk to them. Alvarro, staggering slightly and holding a jug of octal, heard the cleric speak and scowled in reply. Cordell circulated among his men, stopping at each group in the ptaza. Darien had disappeared again, and Erixitl found the mage's vanishing act as unsettling as her appearance. Meanwhile, Kalnak and Chical had huddled together in conversation behind her.
Then, as she looked around at the flowers and feathers, at the food and the gaiety, a black cloud seemed to descend across her eyes.
Once again the plaza lay concealed beneath a monstrous shadow.
"It is almost time," Zilti hissed, finding Shatil near the base of the pyramid. That structure, dominating the great square, was to be the focal point of the attack.
"All is ready," replied the younger priest. "What about the Kultakans?"
"There are ten thousand Nexalan warriors hidden on the slopes above them. As soon as the attack begins, they will fall on our ancient enemies and keep them busy. Then, when the battle in the town is won, our warriors will go into the field to complete the destruction of the Kultakans." Zilti turned around nervously, his fingers absently scraping at one of the many fresh scars on his forearm.
"Where did their leader go?" Shatil asked suddenly. He had looked over toward Erixitl and saw that his sister still sat on the feathered blanket with Kalnak and Chical. But Cordell and the other two strangers — the sorcerer and the priest — had disappeared.
"There he is." Zilti pointed, relieved.
Cordell had just spoken to a short, stocky man with a bristling beard. Erix had referred to these smaller strangers as "dwarves." Shatil's sister had explained that their small size in no way diminished their fighting prowess, but this was a fact of which they were frankly skeptical. Now this dwarf walked among his men, stopping after to nod and talk with them.
The captain-general finally returned to the blanket where he had been feasting. The knights and Erix stood up at his approach, and for a moment, they all stood there, as if reluctant to sit back down.
"Any moment now," said Zilti, barely able to contain his excitement, "Kalnak will give the signal. Then the battle will begin!"
"You referred to the Kultakans as old women," charged Cordell. This time his elven mage translated before Erix could begin to speak. Darien placed all the accusatory inflection that had been in the captain's voice in her own version of the words.
"They are our lifelong enemies!" insisted Kalnak, taken aback by the guest's sudden aggressiveness.
"I say that the old women are those who fight their battles disguised behind women and children, behind feasts and presents!"
As Kalnak stared in shock, Cordell whisked his sword from its scabbard and raised the blade high. "This is the reward for treachery!" he cried.
The blade dropped, arcing through a silvery circle in the sun. Its passage caused a whistle of air, so quickly did the captain-general strike. The keen edge met Kalnak's neck as the Jaguar Knight still stared, and the steel didn't lose momentum. Instead, it passed cleanly through the neck and emerged in a shower of blood from the other side of his body.
The head of Kalnak, still wearing its jaguar-skull helmet, toppled to the side. Red blood spurted from the stump of his neck, and the headless body staggered forward for a step or two, almost as if it would mindlessly attack its killer. But then the corpse sprawled forward and pumped the rest of its life onto the paving stones of the plaza.
Erix saw the blade as a streak of thick blackness through the gray shadows that masked her eyes. She stood frozen in shock, stunned by the monstrous evil of their guest. The entire square fell silent for a moment.
Suddenly a flash of blue-white light cut through the air, penetrating even the heavy shadows across Erix's vision. She saw the wizard Darien standing off to the side. In her hand was a small stick, and it seemed that the stick was the source of the flash. Erix remembered Hal telling her of something like this — what had he called it?
Screams of pain and shock erupted from the plaza. Erix saw that, where the pale light had flashed, all those who had been feasting and talking and laughing were suddenly still. Some of them had toppled over, while others remained frozen in the positions of sitting, eating, even standing.
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