"I suspect our Bishou's notion of their godlessness is mistaken," said Darien.
"Whether they're led by gods or sorcerers, or both," vowed Cordell, "they will come to regret the impetuous attack on my men!"
After the delta, a line of hills rose from the river valley. In the shelter of these hills, almost as if the land extended an encircling and protective arm, the Golden Legion found its anchorage. The shore along the bay was smooth and grassy, with numerous villages and small temples scattered among the fields.
The canoes of the natives maintained a constant vigil as the caravels dropped anchor. Here longboats probed the shore, and soon the reports reached Falcon: The anchorage was deep, the shore firm and suitable for the debarkation of horses and men.
The Bishou climbed to the deck as Cordell gave the order to move the ships closer to shore. The cleric had grieved loudly over the death of his daughter, but now he approached the general with a quiet, grim look.
"Helm in his mercy has given me a sign," explained the Bishou abruptly.
"Indeed," answered Cordell cautiously.
"You need a commander for the lancers, since Halloran has disappeared." The Bishou glowered.
"Yes… I have had some thoughts on the matter."
Domincus shook his head. "Helm has shown me directly that he desires Captain Alvarro to take command."
Cordell tried to suppress a grimace. The Bishou often used 'visions from Helm' to urge the general to follow some course of action he knew was not entirely agreeable to Cordell. Naturally the commander needed to consider the opinions and suggestions of his spiritual adviser, and Domincus often took advantage of the fact.
"I was thinking of someone a bit older, more seasoned. Alvarro can be somewhat… impetuous," began the captain-general, but the Bishou interrupted.
"It must be Alvarro! I have seen this!"
Cordell did not want to antagonize his old comrade at this stage of his mourning, nor could he risk the demoralizing effect a public argument might have upon his legionnaires. He knew Alvarro to be a brave and dashing horseman, albeit a trifle rash. He had a reputation as the best swordsman in the legion. The general finally overcame his objections. "Very well. Captain Alvarro shall have command of the lancers."
"They gather their flying houses in the lagoon," explained Gultec. He breathed heavily, for he had just returned to Ulatos from a hurried reconnaisance.
"Excellent!" Caxal declared, beaming. The Revered Counselor had come more and more to relish the coming clash with the invaders, almost to the point of what Gultec considered rashness.
"Now you must take the warriors down the plain and await them above the shore. Allow them to land before you attack." Caxal gave his instructions quickly.
"Perhaps, my counselor, we should conceal a portion of our force in the trees along the delta," suggested Gultec. "I remember all too clearly the fighting prowess of these warriors. We would do well to hold some of our troops in reserve for a surprise attack."
Caxal fixed Gultec with a darkly suspicious look, the implications of which caused the Jaguar Knight's blood to boil. "Do you fear these warriors, Gultec?" The counselor's voice was smooth, unusually considerate, but the question was a mortal insult to a captain of Gultec's stature.
Once again all his emotions urged him to turn on his heel and leave the presence of the Revered Counselor. Yet thoughts of destiny, of the historical importance of this moment, held his rage in check.
"I will personally lead the warriors across the field," Gultec agreed stiffly. "We will meet the invaders at the shore."
The Bishou smoldered in his cabin as the fleet swung easily at anchor. In his rage, he had abandoned his slave on the shore below Twin Visages. He only spared her life after Cordell intervened on her behalf, reminding him that Helm's vengeance should be directed at those responsible for evil, not its innocent victims.
Now Cordell and Alvarro stood on the raised deck of the Falcon and observed with anticipation the flat plain beside the river delta. The jungle shore was gone here, replaced by golden fields of the tall, plump grain these natives tended. "Mayz," the islanders had called it.
"Yes, captain-general, I understand. I will command the horses well!" Alvarro beamed, his widely spaced teeth standing like scattered tombstones in a cemetery. The sun caused his red hair to blaze like firelight.
"And may I say, sir, that you will not regret your choice. That young fellow, Halloran, was simply too green to – "
"Enough!" snapped Cordell. "Go back to your ship. Be prepared to debark the horses after nightfall."
"Yes, sir!" Alvarro couldn't conceal his delight as he turned away. His eyes drifted idly over the verdant shore less than a mile away. Was Halloran still alive there? Alvarro belched, not really caring.
Darien joined Cordell as Alvarro stepped into the longboat beside the Falcon.
"See how that ridge of land encircles us here?" said the commander. "I think we've found ourselves a splendid anchorage!" All soundings indicated a good depth below them, even though their ships were anchored within a few hundred feet of shore.
"Look there." The general pointed to his elf woman. "Those are man-made structures rising above the trees."
Indeed, the pyramids of Ulatos were in plain view from their anchorage. The tangled swamps blocked the delta below the town, but less than a mile to the west beckoned a broad savannah of grass and mayz.
"The Bishou will be pleased," said Darien, with a sly, private smile.
"To be sure." Cordell paid her little attention. "Excellent. We will land the entire legion here. The savages will quickly learn the folly of attacking the Golden Legion."
"Let the war begin," whispered Darien, so softly that even her man did not hear.
Spirali rested inside the dark shrine of Qotal. He felt no sense of irony at taking shelter within a building devoted to the rival of Zaltec. In truth, Spirali felt little of anything.
The fight with the swordsman had exhausted him, but only daylight had forced him to teleport away from the battle. Even so, he was not certain he could have bested the human.
Indeed, these invaders were of a breed quite different from the natives of Maztica. Of course, he, like the other Ancient Ones, had long known of the lands across the sea, the lands referred to by their inhabitants as "the Forgotten Realms" or "The Sword Coast," or by other exotic names.
For many years, it had been the task of the Ancient Ones to prepare the land for the coming of these strangers, prepare it so that Zaltec would feed well and the Ancient Ones would grow strong.
Spirali regarded his problems coldly, dispassionately. Yet he nearly cursed when he thought of the girl escaping his arrow. That the missile had claimed the corpulent cleric was little satisfaction.
Now the hot sun blistered the world outside this stone building. Even the pale light spilling down the stairs burned his eyes and forced him to avert his gaze.
He could only wait until nightfall.
The white sails had remained visible against the horizon for several hours as Halloran and Daggrande, led by Erixitl, pressed westward along the shore. Eventually the fleet overtook them and continued on farther to the west, never coming closer to land.