Ironhelm mt-1

by Douglas Niles

  "Why did you free me?" Hal asked slowly. He pulled the snakeskin from his belt and held it toward her. "This held fast against our sharpest steel."

  "I do not know what 'steel' is, but the — " Erix paused and searched for a word in her new language — " the hishna, the magic of scale and claw and fang, stands in opposition to pluma, the magic of feathers and air. I freed you because my necklace of pluma gives me power over hishna"

  Erix pondered for a moment, puzzled. "I do not truly know why I chose to use this power to come to your aid. You are certainly the most frightening men I have ever seen. And in truth, you smell as though you have not bathed in many days.

  "Chitikas told me to help you, but I did not want to. It was only when the Payit attacked that I desired you to have a chance to at least fight for your life."

  "Thank you" said Halloran, as puzzled as Erix by her decision.

  Daggrande had walked over to the doorway and looked at the sky. Now he turned back with a more practical concern.

  "Does anyone know where we are?"

  Spirali sat cross-legged upon the altar. The heart that had been torn from Martine lay beside him, cold and still. The Ancient One slowly worked his magic, seeking through the night the power that would tell him where his enemy had gone.

  The appearance of the couatl had surprised and angered Spirali. Not one of the creatures had been detected in over two centuries, and Spirali's dark-dwelling leaders had pronounced them extinct. They would be displeased by Spirali's report.

  But they would be very pleased with Spirali if he could announce that the beast was dead, presumably extinct again. So now he sought the deep emanations of power that would tell him where the couatl had gone. And even if the serpent escaped him, the Ancient One might learn where the girl had gone as well.

  Spirali stiffened almost imperceptibly. There! In another instant, he disappeared.

  His journey through the spaceless and timeless void that had been the couatl's pathway was instantaneous. Spirali arrived among a grove of flowers in a jungle clearing. He sensed that dawn was near, and this increased his urgency.

  A dark stone doorway marked a vine-shrouded temple before him. Spirali closed his eyes, but the concentrated emanations of the couatl were no longer present.

  Nevertheless, he heard voices coming from the temple. One of them he recognized as Erixitl's.

  "The bluff teems with warriors — at least a thousand, with more emerging from the jungle every minute." Darien explained her observations to Cordell and the Bishou. They didn't question how she gained the information, both knowing that the elf woman could become invisibile, levitate or fly, assume the shape of an animal or monster, and employ other magical abilities as she needed. Her methods could not be questioned, and her results were invaluable.

  "We must attack these pagan savages, now!" Bishou Domincus railed at the sky, shaking his fist at the enemy unseen in the darkness above.

  "I'm ready to lead an attack," growled Alvarro eagerly. "We'll spit the devils on our swords!" The gap-toothed redhead had willingly echoed the cleric's cry for battle, and now they pressed an all-out attack.

  "Be silent!" Cordell's tight voice instantly quelled their ranting. The commander continued, his voice low and tense.

  "Think of our tactical position! We stand at the foot of a bluff. By Helm, they could use rocks as weapons!" Fury and frustration strained Cordell's voice. They hold the high ground!"

  "This bluff seems to mark only this headland," interjected Darien. "To the west, the land drops off quickly." Cordell raised his eyebrows. "You have been busy tonight, my dear."

  The elf shrugged, her pale eyes veiled. "I sought some sign of Daggrande or Halloran. Unfortunately, I saw nothing to indicate where they might have been taken by this glowing ring,"

  "Very well. They were good legionnaires, but we have to assume they are gone."

  "Hiding!" snorted the Bishou. "The young man avoids facing me, shirking the responsibility for his criminal carelessness!"

  Cordell sighed softly but did not reply to the Bishou's threat. There will be time enough for that should we ever see Hal again, he thought. "We shall sail along the coast, find a shore, and land, as the vigilant eye of Helm is my witness!"

  Cordell looked into the Bishou's moist eyes. The captain-general's determination was a black fire burning in his heart as he vowed, "And there, in the open, the legion will await the savages. I assure you, my friend, that your daughter will be avenged!"

  "This is the Forgotten Shrine," explained Kachin for Erixitl's translation. "We are east of the mayzfields, within sight of the Flowered Temple of Ulatos."

  Erix explained for the benefit of the strangers. "Ulatos is the great city of the Payit, not far from your landing point. Your ships lie a march of perhaps two hours to the east." The translations of distance and time came easily to her. She realized that in both areas, the language of the strangers was far more precise than her own. Obviously they were a people who liked to measure things.

  "Why did that priest kill Martine? Why did he choose her for his sacrifice?" The memory of the gory ritual burned in Halloran's mind like a nightmare that would not go away.

  "The priest was mad," explained Erix. "He thought the woman was me." Maddened by Chitikas, she added to herself.

  "You mean this war was started by a bewitched cleric?" howled Daggrande. "I might have known!"

  But Halloran was thinking about her answer. "Why does he want to kill you?"

  "I… don't know." The sight of her eyes left him absolutely convinced that she told the truth.

  "Come, Erix" urged Kachin, in Payit. "Let us hasten to Ulatos. We should leave the presence of these strangers."

  "But what about the danger in Ulatos?" Erix vividly remembered her abduction from the temple.

  "I will see to your safety personally. The sanctity of the Silent Counselor's grounds shall not again be violated."

  Erix turned back to the two legionnaires. "You will find yourself on the shore as we emerge from this shrine. Your friends lie to the east. Kachin and I return to our city, to the west." She started toward the door, then stopped and looked back at Halloran.

  "May your journey pass in peace."

  Halloran looked at the woman again. She seemed so much older than Martine, or himself, for that mailer. He suspected that she had not yet seen twenty years, yet she carried herself with a maturily and grace that fascinated him almost to the point of awe.

  Yet Martine's terror-stricken face appeared in his memory again. He had failed his responsibility to her! She had been killed because a mad priest took her to be this woman in front of him. Perhaps that should make him angry at Erix, but instead it only made him more curious.

  "I hope that we meet again," he said, bowing.

  Halloran preceded the others up the stairway leading out of the shrine. The twilight of approaching dawn filtered dim light through the foliage around them, and he saw a wide beach through the trees.

  Erix followed him out of the shrine, then paused to look at him one last time. Kachin followed her, stopping in the doorway.

  Suddenly the cleric's eyes widened. He sprang forward, pushing Erix roughly to the side. The black arrow intended for her heart lodged instead in the cleric's rib cage. Kachin gasped in deep pain and dropped to the ground.

  Daggrande raised his crossbow, quickly sighting on the dark blur he thought he saw among the foliage. The black shape rolled to the side, evading his missile but revealing its presence by the movement.

  Halloran charged the manlike figure, his silver longsword seeking flesh before him. Even though dawn's light had come as a rosy hue in the east, he could see nothing of his opponent but whirling shadow. Then he caught the dull glint of cold sleel.

  Helmstooth clashed against another metal sword. The enemy's blade was black, but rang like true steel. Again and again the weapons met, silver and black. Sometimes sparks flared from the violence of the contact. The fighters dodged and ducked among the trees, hacking in
to trunks and through branches in their desperate attacks and parries.

  Hal guessed his opponent to be of human size, perhaps a little smaller but possessed of a supple, wiry strength. He noticed that the swordsman was cloaked entirely in black, including his gloves, boots, and a silken mask. More importantly, the dark one's skill with the blade matched the best swordsmen he had ever seen.

  With savage, silent violence, the dark figure rushed Hal, slicing his face and narrowly missing his bowels. Then the legionnaire kicked the wiry form away and stabbed once, twice, again, each time missing by a mere inch.

  Halloran attacked and parried with all the skill in his arm and his brain. The dark figure seemed to flow away from his shining blade, deftly swirling beyond the point, and then the razor-edged return thrust whistled past Halloran as he used all of his speed to avoid sudden death.

  Daggrande cocked his crossbow and aimed, but he could not get a clear shot into the melee. Even as red dawn blossomed to pink, as flowers and insects became visible among the fronds, the mysterious attacker remained shrouded in shadowy darkness. His garments, if such they were, seemed to float around him like a cloud of smoke, obscuring his limbs but in no way impairing his movement.

  The fighter pressed Halloran back again, the blows coming more swiftly than ever. The legionnaire parried and retreated. Slowly he felt himself losing the fight. His arm felt like a leaden weight, and his brain began to struggle against fatigue. Still the dark stranger attacked, with no sign of strain or exhaustion. Dawn's pale illumination began to brighten the clearing around them, and Halloran fought for his life.

  Then suddenly the black form darted away from him, rolling into the foliage. Like smoke, his shape seemed to dissipate. Hal lunged forward recklessly, his longsword lancing out toward his opponent's suspected location.

  But his strike met only succulent greenery. He hacked at the fronds, but there was nothing there. As the first rays of the sun flickered across the treetops above them, Halloran and his companions realized that the attacker was gone.

  On the ground, Kachin coughed, the pink froth of his life-blood trickling through his lips.

  Dawn showed the great wings spreading across the water. Gultec, atop the pyramid with Caxal, the Revered Counselor of Ulatos, and Lok, chief of the Eagle Warriors, watched the white shapes unfold like the blossoms of a day-flower opening to the sun.

  The Jaguar Knight felt a terrible unease as he watched. Oddly, he missed the presence of Kachin. That cleric, among all the men he knew, seemed capable of offering wisdom and sound guidance in this hour of dire danger.

  And Gultec did not underestimate the danger posed by these strangers. Nearly two hundred of his warriors had been slain in short minutes of combat, a horrifying death toll even to the veteran campaigner. At the same time, only ten of the strangers had been killed.

  Gultec felt certain that the other strangers at the pyramid would have perished, except for the appearance of the couatl. But at what cost to his own troops?

  A sense of menace grew in his mind, and suddenly he spoke to Caxal and Lok. "We must send the warriors back to the city… quickly!"

  "The city?" Caxal looked at him suspiciously. "But the strangers are here now!"

  "I think they will fly soon. See how they spread their wings? The army of Ulatos is here, and the city lies undefended."

  "No!" Caxal barked. Lok, the Eagle chief, started to speak but closed his mouth in the face of the counselor's glare. Caxal squinted, studying the great water creatures — he could not think of them as boats — and trying to control the fear raging in his breast.

  Gultec turned away from the counselor, his temper flaring. Normally, in such a state, he would have stalked away. But this day, these occurrences, seemed so momentous to the Jaguar Knight that such ordinary concerns of pride faded to insignificance.

  The white wings did indeed fly. "See how their beats stir the wave tops," Lok said, pointing. They all watched the white wakes foaming behind each hull as the strangers rode their water creatures around the reef. They followed the coast toward the west, in the direction of Ulatos.

  Caxal watched the flight of the strangers in a stupor. This was the first he had seen of their might, and awe filled his body with numbness. Suddenly he shook his head.

  "We must race to Ulatos," he declared, oblivious of his two war chieftains, who looked at him in scorn, "to defend the city against the invaders!"

  From the chronicle of Colon:

  Now our destiny has only to be born.

  The Eagles continue to report to Naltecona. He hears the news of their departure with joy. He smiles and relaxes and beckons to his priests and nobles.

  "See? The strangers leave us. They are no threat, surely not the cause of ten years of portents." He cheers himself, but no one else, with the heartiness of his words.

  Then more Eagles fly to the palace of Nexal, and the Revered Counselor hears of the strangers' approach to Ulatos. For a time, Naltecona is despondent, and then again the smile of understanding crosses his features.

  But now he understands things that no one else can see. "It is their folly to go to Ulatos, for that is the heart of the Payit lands," he assures his attendants. "Surely the Jaguars and Eagles of the Payit will rally to destroy them," he explains to the nobles.

  And indeed the warriors of the Payit gather, many thousandmen of the city and the surrounding towns. More warriors arrive daily from Payit lands deeper in the jungle, mysterious regions unknown even to Nexal.

  But only Naltecona believes they may solve his dilemma.

  ULATOS LAGOON

  The cleric of Qotal gasped and wheezed, each breath coming shorter than the last as his lungs slowly filled with blood. Erixitl wept softly beside him, holding Kachin's hand in hers. The cleric forcefully stopped her when she tried to tend his wounds, shaking his head to indicate certain knowledge of his fate. This man suddenly meant a great deal to Erix, and the thought of his loss left her frightened and lonely.

  Halloran stood awkwardly off to the side, while Daggrande looked fruitlessly for some indication of the dark attacker's nature or trail.

  The shrine, Hal saw now, was a round, dome-shaped building in the rain forest. It was covered with vegetation and stood very near to the shore. He wondered how far they were from the fleet's anchorage. He did not allow himself to consider the possibility that the legion had moved on. Nothing Halloran could imagine seemed as frightening to him as the thought of being stranded here, never to see men of his own world again.

  Erix moaned and leaned across Kachin's suddenly still body. Halloran looked away, realizing with surprise that this man's death saddened and angered him.

  The attack had been cowardly, and the cleric had given his life to save a maiden, a clear statement of the relative merits of attacker and victim. But also this cleric had acted as a decent and reasonable man.

  Indeed, Kachin had almost seemed civilized, Hal admitted. Too, he was discomfited by this unusual girl who had magically learned his language and who regarded him with those luminous eyes.

  "Well, there's no sign of that thing, or person, or whatever it was," reported Daggrande. "Now let's get going back to the fleet."

  "Wait!" Halloran suddenly felt reluctant to leave. He turned to the girl. "I'm sorry about your friend."

  Again she disturbed him, this time with the extent of the pain he could see in her face. She studied him with a wounded innocence that finally forced him to turn away. "Will you help me bury him, please?" she asked softly.

  "We have to go!" Daggrande objected. "Cordell might already have decided to move on!"

  Halloran sighed and looked at his old friend. "You go ahead. I'll help her and catch up as soon as I can."

  The dwarf looked at him incredulously for a moment but made no move to leave. "I never did think you had much in the way of a brain. But I'd best stay here and help you get the job done. Then" — and his voice dropped to an ominous growl — "we're going!"

  Erixitl selected a spot besi
de the shrine of Qotal, the god Kachin had served all his adult life. The fringe of forest along the coast was lined with many rocks, for the beach here was more gravelly than it had been below Twin Visages. All three of them helped carry rocks to the burial site, then slowly built a mound over Kachin's body.

  Erix worked steadily, ignoring the questions that began to grow in her mind. Where should I go? What should I do? Fiercely she forced those questions aside until the grave was completed. Finally the work was done, and all her uncertainties settled to the fore of her mind.

  A small part of her wanted to return home, to Palul, to finally see Nexal, the great city she had never seen. She knew no one in Ulatos — indeed, in all Payit — and she had come here as a purchased slave. Erix understood that, though Kachin had called her a priestess, she did not have the training or background for such an exalted calling.

  But if she was not a priestess, neither was she any longer a slave. She feared the forces of Zaltec, for they had attacked her more than once, yet it seemed that greater things had been set in motion by the arrival of these strangers. And those forces would threaten her everywhere in the True World, perhaps with even greater savagery near their highest temple in Nexal.

  Too, there was the matter of Chitikas's gift to her. She was probably the only Maztican who could communicate with the strangers. They were indeed a frightening, even horrifying, lot. The prospects for peace between Halloran's people and her own looked very grim, especially after the melee at the pyramid. In her heart, she wondered whether war was inevitable.

  Could her destiny, the destiny Chitikas had spoken of, involve the prevention of this conflict? She doubted whether this was possible, but at the same time she felt compelled to try to do something.