Instantly the dark elves pulled swords of black steel from their robes, rushing Erix in a pack. Their white eyes reflected milky hatred in the moonlight, but their blades sucked the light from the air and showed only as black, deadly shadow.
But Halloran saw them coming, and he would not lose Erixitl again. And so, too, did Chitikas Couatl.
The feathered snake suddenly glowed with a light like the sun, and many of the drow swordsmen recoiled, shrieking and pulling their robes across their eyes. Dwelling all their lives underground, emerging only at night, their vision was seared by the couatl's sudden brilliance.
Halloran sprang forward, cutting down one with a single hammer-like blow of his sword. Poshtli, too, thrust a blade through the heart of a blinded drow, while Daggrande cut the legs from under a third with a vicious swipe of his axe. The others — Cordell, the Bishou, Shatil — stared in awe at the shocking explosion of violence and magic.
"Strike her down!" shrilled one of the surviving drow, stumbling back to Darien's side. Halloran, Poshtli, and Daggrande advanced menacingly.
"I cannot," the wizard snapped. She would waste none of her precious spells on attacks she knew to be futile.
Halloran rushed forward and hacked a fourth drow in two with a savage sidearm swing. Black blood sprayed the others, and they recoiled, vivid fear marking their features. He leaped toward Darien, murderous hatred propelling his blade.
But he struck only empty air as the blade whistled past the place where Darien had stood. She and the remaining drow blinked out of sight together, teleporting away from the fight on the rooftop.
"She's gone," said Cordell slowly. "What have you done?"
"What have you done?" demanded Halloran savagely. "You've led these men into a trap, and now your wizard is gone! you'll have to fight your way out!"
"Shatil!" Erixitl suddenly recognized her brother, standing off to one side. The priest of Zaltec looked at her dazedly. He dropped an object that looked like a small claw into his pouch as she ran to him, and met her embrace with one of his own.
A black-shafted, steel-tipped arrow suddenly cracked against Halloran's breastplate, ricocheting across the roof. "Over there!" he shouted, looking up to see the band of drow on the roof, a hundred paces away. Several of them had dark longbows raised, arrows nocked and ready.
The battle surged with growing intensity below the legion's commanders as the Kultakans fell back to the very shadow of the palace walls. Nexalans pressed all around them, and the howls and shrieks and whistles rang through the night.
"Come," said Chitikas, his whispered tones clearly audible. "Now we will strike!"
"Now?" Erix demanded. "A few minutes ago, we could have saved Naltecona, and now we attack? Are you too late for everything?"
Chitikas looked at her inescrutably. Poshtli grunted in pain as a black arrow tore into his shoulder. Pulling the missile free with a grimace, he looked toward the band of drow. Cordell, too, looked at the dark elves, and then at the raging fight below.
"Fight your battle here!" Hal barked at his old commander. "We'll go after them — come on!" He and Poshtli started forward, with Erix and Shatil running after them. Halloran saw the drow preparing for another murderous volley and wondered how many arrows he would endure before he and his companions crossed the distance to the dark elves.
"This way," Chitikas hissed, suddenly driving his wings downward. He settled the coil of his body around the four humans, and again that white light flared on the rooftop. Halloran felt a sickening, whirling sensation as his feet lost contact with the boards beneath them.
But suddenly they stood on the roof again, just a few feet away from the drow — and behind them! Chitikas teleported them as swiftly and accurately as the drow themselves! "Get the witch!" Hal grunted, chopping the head from a drow who stood between him and Darien. Poshtli charged beside him as the startled elves whirled to face the sudden Attack.
Another drow stepped before Hal, protecting Darien. He raised a blade of midnight black, and Helmstooth clashed against the weapon with a ringing of hard steel. But the power of Hal's pluma proved dominant, and the drow howled as the bone in his arm snapped. Halloran stared into Darien's widened eyes, feeling a brutal, angry thrill at the fear he saw there.
Then, once again, the band of Ancient Ones blinked out of sight.
The Nexalan warriors, led by the fanatic bloodlust of the cult of the Viperhand, drove their Kultakan enemies against the walls of the palace. With the Payit already vanquished — slain, routed, or captured — the Kultakans now felt the full brunt of the assault.
Hoxitl watched the battle from the Great Pyramid, knowing that many hearts were coming to Zaltec. The initial flush of his ecstasy did not wane, if anything, it grew as the battle raged throughout the night. He saw his warriors using nets, ropes, and long hooks to drag Kultakan warriors from the ranks of their comrades. A long file of prisoners already stretched around the pyramid, gathering in the temple below.
He awaited only the dawn to commence the feeding of his god.
Down on the blood-slicked stones of the courtyard, Tokol, war chief of the Kultaka, understood the grave peril of his situation. His warriors fought with discipline and savagery, killing even as they died. But the enemy numbered too many, and with the high palace wall behind them, they couldn't fall back any farther. Overhead, bolts fired from legion crossbows showered from the wall into the ranks of the attackers, but there were pitiful few crossbows when compared to the endless thousands of attacking Nexalans.
The son of Takamal wondered if he had led his people into annihilation by placing their trust and their service in the hands of the conquering legion. The battle here was lost, he knew, and all that remained to him was to try to save as many of his warriors as he could.
Grimly he spread the word, and the Kultakans tightened their ranks. Upon a whistled signal from their leader — a sound that carried somehow above the din of the battle — the allies of the Golden Legion charged the Nexalan hordes. Their tight formation pushed through the chaotic jumble of the attackers as they drove toward the gate of the sacred plaza.
Soon the Nexalans parted before them, still fighting but making no desperate attempt to prevent the breakout. Tokol led the way, his maca dripping with gore, his heart bursting with the tragedy he had brought upon his people. Of the twenty thousand warriors he had brought to Nexal, a little more than half of them escaped — and only because their enemies let them go.
As for Hoxitl and the cult, they knew that the true enemy remained trapped inside the palace of Axalt. Alone now, bereft of allies, the Golden Legion's fate would soon be sealed.
More black arrows arced through the moonlit night, but Chitikas saw them coming and blinked the four humans out of the way before they landed. Once again Halloran and Poshtli pressed home the attack against the drow, and again the dark elves flashed away before their swords could reach Darien.
Another drow lay dead upon the roof, but Poshtli and Halloran bled from several wounds each. Gasping with exhaustion, the companions paused to breathe.
"There!" Erixitl shouted, pointing around a corner of the peaked central roof.
The men, including Shatil, leaped to Erix's side as Chitikas again whisked them into an attack. Again and again, the battle of teleportation raged all around the palace roof, with neither side gaining a clear advantage. The legionnaires took little note of this fight, engrossed as they were in the defense of the building itself.
Throughout the long, bright night, Hal, Poshtli, Erix, and Shatil pursued the dark elves across the rooftop of the palace, while the square around them reeled under the raging battle. Eight or nine of the dark elves perished in the chase, but always Darien escaped.