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 their 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.