"But we were going to do that together when you had time!" Erix's objection came more from surprise than annoyance.
"Together? I hardly think that would be appropriate, anymore, do you?" The picture of Poshtli wrapping this woman in his arms flashed again through Hal's mind, and he winced at the painful memory.
"But…" Erix couldn't understand his anger. "Why are you talking like this? What's the matter?"
Halloran whirled away, pacing across the garden. Words of anger and jealousy surged through him. Only with the greatest effort could he hold them back. In his heart, he knew that Poshtli had been too true a friend to deserve the vitriol that Hal wanted to spew.
Finally he turned back, speaking to her from several paces away. "Naltecona has offered me a house. I can no longer stay here, for obvious reasons. I will move there as soon as it can be arranged. Until then, I will try to leave you your privacy."
"What do you mean?" Erix felt a brief flash of panic.
But then her own anger took over. How could he treat her like this? She had been worried about him, relieved to see him. Suddenly the mere sight of him inflamed her. She had to get away from him or her anger would not be contained. In that moment, she knew that she would take the journey she had thus far delayed, to the one place in the world she could go.
"Never mind! I don't need this place either! I'm going home — home to Palul, to my father and brother! Take your house and live like a great, wise man!"
For a moment, Halloran stared at her, dumb with shock. He thought of Poshtli, wondering if the noble warrior knew his betrothed planned to suddenly depart Nexal. "Home? But what about-"
"You can stay in Nexal — see the city all you want!" she shot at him, cutting him off. Suddenly she shivered as that shadowy presence crept into the room, against the walls and floor, muffling her sight. Darkness welled around her, casting the shadows across the garden, even blocking out the sun. Only Halloran stood out before her, in the light.
But she turned her back on that light, and then she was out the door.
"The cult of the Viperhand spreads quickly," hissed the drow, his hood thrown back so that the crimson blush of the Darkfyre washed over his black face and white hair. "But we control it well, for it lies under the thumb of the priests."
The drow spoke to a circle of his equals, and to the Ancestor. The Harvesters had yet to begin their grisly night's work. For long moments, the group remained silent as the Ancient Ones meditated.
"The Viperhand does well. When our need arises, it will be ready." The words came from the Ancestor, his voice rasping through the cavern. "Let the humans spread their cult of Zaltec and let it further our own ends."
"The priests want to give the white stranger's heart to their god," said the drow, persisting.
"We require that the girl be slain. She alone, by the prophecy, carries the threat to us of ultimate failure. Yet this man helped to kill Spirali. He has protected her from Payit to Nexal, and still they remain together. Let the priests and their agents kill them both. It will serve as a useful warning to the strangers."
"We cannot expect a single death to frighten them off!" objected another of the Ancient Ones.
"Of course not. But our vengeance will be exacted for Spirali. And the only one of the invaders to see Nexal thus far will be destroyed. The others will take some time to reach here.
"During that time, the cult of the Viperhand can grow stronger still, so that when the invaders arrive, we will be able to meet them with strength." The venerable drow looked at his companions. His eyes, stark white and very wide against the midnight skin of his face, gleamed.
"Let the word be sent to Hoxitl," said the Ancestor, his voice suddenly firm. He leaned forward in his thronelike chair. The cherry glow of the caldron disappeared, lost in the greater darkness that was the Ancestor.
"The girl and the man shall die tonight!"
"These are the sons of Takamal."
Darien emotionlessly gestured at five warriors. The elven wizard had used her magic to learn the Kultakan tongue, speaking to the natives who had been summoned to their city square. Now she awaited Cordell's instructions. The once proud men now stood, almost naked, before their conquerors. The meeting took place in the center of the city of Kultaka, in the very shadow of Zaltec's pyramid.
Around the leaders stood the trim ranks of the Golden Legion and its Payit allies, surrounded by the silent masses of Kultaka.
"Why have they doffed their clothes?" asked the general. "Tell them to put them on."
"They say that their defeat has left them unworthy to wear the garb of warriors."
"Nonsense!" Cordell smiled at the Kultakans — the full, ingratiating smile that helped him command, to the death, the loyalty of his men. "Tell them that we have not conquered them, that we are in fact very sorry so many of their brave warriors have died in battle against us."
Darien turned and translated as Cordell looked around at Kultaka. The city showed far less opulence than had Ulatos. Unlike the capital of the Payit, many of the structures here had been built for defense. The flat housetops were surrounded by waist-high walls. Windows were small. The streets were still lined with flowers, but the profusion of feathermagic that was so extensive in Ulatos was completely absent here.
It had taken only hours to discover that the Kultakans were much poorer in gold than either their jungle neighbors to the east, or, reputedly, the Nexalans to the west. What few treasures they had were stacked here, willingly offered by the abject sons of the slain war chief.
"The oldest, this one catted Tokol, asks why you show such kindness. Is this how you prepare your captives for sacrifice?" Darien pulled Cordell's attention back to these men. And now his plan for them was complete.
"You are not our enemies! We did not want to attack you. We merely sought passage through your lands, and some food. We are on our way to attack the treacherous Nexalans, whose land lies beyond your own."
Cordell saw, without surprise, that the Kultakans were intrigued by his reply. Tokol spoke again. "Surely it is a great tragedy that we did not know this, for the Nexalans are our greatest enemies! It is good that you attack them."
"And truly, we shall beat them," replied the captain-general. "For we have been tested this day against the finest warriors in Maztica!"
Now he saw the heads come up, some measure of pride returning to the sharp-featured faces. Tokol spoke again. "We offer you what food you desire, and ourselves as slaves. May your march be a success." Tokol, mimicked by the others, bowed deeply.
"I could never see such men as you reduced to slaves," objected Cordell, raising his voice. "No! Indeed, I can only see you as warriors! Proud, strong men, marching against Nexal!"
He had seen the worth of the Payit in battle, and now he found a force of warriors that showed far greater skill, and larger numbers, than the legion of his Payit allies. As he continued, he saw in the faces of Takamal's sons surprise at his words. A faint look of hope in their eyes convinced him that he took the right tack, he sensed that these warriors would do anything to regain their own manliness.
"Will you not join me? Your hosts, added to my legion, will make a splendid spectacle for the march on Nexal!"
Tokol saw no need for hesitation or consultation before he replied.
"We are eternally grateful for the kindness of our conqueror. We offer you whatever captives you need to celebrate your victory. The rest of us shall be proud to march with you to Nexal!"
"Captives?" Cordell suddenly saw their meaning. "No! We do not slay our enemies to feed our god. Instead, there will be this decree, the one law I will place upon you."
Now the general's eyes flashed as Darien translated. The Kultakans stood as if spellbound, awaiting his command. "There is to be no sacrifice among you! Hold your captives as slaves or let them go as you wish. But you may not offer their hearts to your pagan gods!"
Tokol recoiled as if struck. Instinctively he looked up at the nearby temple, as if expecting a bolt to
issue forth and strike Cordell dead. But nothing happened.
"Do you understand?" barked the legion's commander.
"It shall be as you command," said Tokol, with another low bow.
The four Jaguar Knights stood stiffly before Kallict as the priest performed ritual cuts, scarring their earlobes, forearms, and cheeks with short chops of his sharp obsidian dagger. None of the men cried out, of course, for to do so would have betrayed the trust of their vow.
The vow of the Viperhand.
After the ritual scarring, each of them stepped before Hoxitl and knelt. The only sound was the high priest's chant as he pressed his freshly bloodied hand to the chest of each supplicant.
Finally the four stood branded, their spotted cloaks thrown open so that the raw wounds on their chests stood proudly forth.
"You Jaguars have been selected by Kallict for your bravery and your devotion to Zaltec," said Hoxitl, fastening each in turn with the burning glare of his passionate gaze. "Your task is simple and direct, and your service will be in the name of Zaltec himself."
The Jaguar Knights bowed their heads humbly, but the high priest smiled to himself as he saw their bodies tense with excitement.
"There are two people — a woman of Maztica, and a man from the strangers — dwelling in the palace of Naltecona. Zaltec hungers for the man's heart. He wishes to taste of the stranger's blood. The woman, too, must be slain, though she can die in her chambers.
"You are to enter the palace tonight. Kill the woman and bring the man to us. And know that Zaltec shall remember and reward."
The horse whinnied nervously, and Halloran came instantly awake. Storm had grown fat and lazy on the easy life in the palace, and the horse rarely made any sound of distress or displeasure.
But again that whinny, and this time the alarm in the sound was clear. Indeed, the horse sounded close to panic. Hal felt pressure against his chest and realized he had fallen asleep with the heavy spellbook on top of him. He had been studying it, trying to master a few more of its secrets, when sleep had claimed him.
Then he remembered. Erixitl was gone! All the loneliness and despair came back to him, a wave of hopelessness that left him weak and paralyzed on his bed. Never in his life had he felt so alone, so useless. Roughly he forced the emotion aside, fixing his attention on the disturbance that had awakened him.
Sliding Helmstooth from its scabbard beside his bed, Halloran extended the longsword before him and silently stood. The dim glow of the enchanted longsword's blade barely illuminated the chamber.
A sudden stench assailed his nostrils, reminding him of an inn he had frequented back in Murann. The place had been surrounded by alleycats, and the odor reminded him of the tomcats who sometimes yowled on the fence outside.
A low growl rumbled in the darkness, confirming his suspicions.
"Kirisha!" he cried, and instantly the room was awash in cool, white light. The magic spell allowed him to see and also startled and frightened the intruders.
These, he saw, were a pair of monstrous jaguars. Halloran gaped in shock for a moment, but then his fighting instincts took over. The cats crouched in the doorway to his room, blinking at the light and uttering their deep, rumbling growls. One spread his jaws in a snarl, and Hal grimaced at the huge fangs he saw there.
Storm, in the garden, whinnied in terror, and Hal didn't stop to think. Instead, he charged into combat with an almost welcome sense of release.
Helmstooth pricked one of the jaguars in the shoulder, but then Hal grunted in pain as the other sprang at him, raking his thigh with long, curving claws. "Damn!" he hissed, limping backward. He lunged into another attack, but both the cats leaned nimbly out of the way.
He heard another sound in the large room beyond his own. More of them! For a moment, his heart filled with panic as he saw two jaguars slinking toward Erix's room. It was with a great sense of relief that he remembered she was gone, safe on the road to Palul.
But that same relief quickly turned to anger. His frustration with her departure, and now a growing sense of outrage at this invasion, galvanized him into action. He feinted at one of the cats and then, as the other lunged toward him, turned to sink the point of his blade into the second cat's well-muscled chest.
As quickly as Hal struck, the first jaguar leaped toward him, and he scrambled desperately backward, barely avoiding a potentially disemboweling slash at his gut. He felt acutely aware of his vulnerability. His steel breastplate hung beside his bed, but he had no chance to don it.
Suddenly the unwounded jaguar sprang into the air, in a powerful leap that drove toward Hal's face. The man twisted out of the way but heard the cat land behind him while the other one crouched, still menacing him from the door.
Hal's reaction was as instantaneous as it was desperate. Knowing the two-sided attack meant certain death if he let them spring, Halloran struck first, driving savagely at the wounded jaguar in the doorway. He slashed at the creature's face and then, as it twisted aside, drove his sword into the unprotected flank. Helmstooth lunged forward almost of its own will, as if the steel blade somehow sought the blood of this feline victim. The sharp tip penetrated fur, skin, and muscle, finally puncturing the savage heart.
With a yowl of pain and dying rage, the animal fell to the ground, kicking helplessly. Hal gaped, watching the fur-covered limbs slowly stretch and twitch. A paw distorted grotesquely, the claws extending and straightening. Then the claws became fingers, the fingers of a human hand that lay limp in death. The body of the beast, as it perished, returned to the form of the man that was its soul.
His fascination with the gruesome transformation almost cost Hal his life. A premonition of danger warned him to roll to the side, and he barely dodged the leaping attack of the jaguar that now sprang out of his room. This cat, and the other two that darted out of Erix's empty room, now faced Halloran. In the courtyard, the horse cried again, a whinny shrill with panic. At least Storm still lived, Hal thought.
But the three cats crept closer, jaws wide. Their yellow eyes gleamed at him, reflecting the glow of his light spell, mocking him with their advantage in numbers.
Behind him, Hal felt the corner of the room blocking him in. He knew that he was trapped.
"Can you listen to me, Grandfather?" asked Poshtli, bowing humbly outside the door to Colon's cramped quarters.
The high priest was the only person the warrior could turn to, the only one upon whom he would confer the honorary title of "Grandfather." Colon had always been his trusted adviser, and even after the cleric took his vow of silence, Poshtli had found these one-sided discussions very useful. And Colon, too, seemed to enjoy the companionship.
The cleric of Qotal smiled gently, waving a piece of copal incense around his small painting chamber, leaving a trail of sweet smoke in the air. He gestured for the Eagle Knight to enter and sit.
"I feel as if I am in the grip of a giant's hand" said Poshtli, clasping his hands together and staring into Colon's deep, unfathomable eyes. "I have answered what I thought was the will of the gods. I have brought the stranger to Nexal because that was the hope of the city. Him and the woman, Erixitl." For some reason, it was difficult to say her name. He told Coton of his proposal, her gentle rebuff. "Perhaps she doubted the depth of my devotion. Truly, I offered my hand out of fear for her, though indeed she is strong, smart, and very beautiful. She would be a fine wife.
"And her life is in danger! I have brought this trouble upon her! By marrying her, I hoped to protect her!"
Colon stood and stepped to the door of the small chamber. The sun had long since set, and he saw the dying torches on top of ihe great pyramid, left there by the priests of Zaltec hours earlier, before they had descended from their grim evening rituals. Poshtli turned to follow the cleric with his eyes.
"I have seen the destiny of Nexal, Grandfather! It is to lie in ruins — in black, smoking wreckage!" The Eagle Knight stood. "My visions have shown me that this stranger offers some hope of salvatation, but now he, too, is s
eized by events beyond his control!"
Poshtli abruptly reached his hand to his shoulder and plucked one black, white-tipped eagle feather from his cloak. He offered the plume to Colon, and the old cleric reached out to take it.
"If I aid Halloran, I shall break the vow to my order, for this I have been forbidden to do." Now the knight's pain was mirrored in the cleric's eyes.
"I have spent my life striving to be the finest Eagle Warrior the True World has ever known. Now the life of a man from another world can snatch that away from me. For I know this, Grandfather: I cannot let him die."
Colon nodded, his face expressionless. As always, however, the silent cleric had helped Poshtli in some mysterious way to clarify what was in his own mind. Now the warrior nodded respectfully and thanked the cleric for listening. Then he stepped quickly from Colon's temple.
Some unconscious sense of urgency propelled Poshtli's step as he slarted into the palace, toward the apartments Naltecona had provided for his friends. As he drew closer, his hurried gait broke into a trot, and then a run.
Poshtli dashed around the corner before the apartments, somehow certain that danger loomed. He saw a group of slaves huddled outside the door, listening in terror but not daring to peer inside.
"Move, damn you!" he cursed, knocking the slower ones aside.
He sprang through the door and immediately saw the dead Jaguar Knight illuminated in the strange pale glow that emerged from Halloran's room. A growl in the corner called his attention to the shadows, where he saw Halloran backed into a corner, facing three monstrous felines.
Poshtli barked a sharp sound, the shrill, keening cry of the hunting eagle. Instantly two of the jaguars spun to face this new threat, while the third crouched before Hal, its tail twitching tautly from side to side.
For a moment, the Eagle Knight froze. His maca fell light in his hand, eager for blood. But suddenly the memory of his vow, the clear orders from the leaders of his order, came back to him. He was prohibited, by the terms of that vow, from aiding Halloran against the forces of Zaltec.
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