Through one of these gaps, Kachin saw a flash of black hair, and then he gasped. Erixitl! She was being held by the strangers!
More and more of Gultec's column emerged from the jungle, massing around the little square. Many spearmen climbed along the sides of the pyramid, not as far as the top but gaining positions high above the legionnaires.
'Hieeeiiii!' A volley of screeches burst from the warriors on the pyramid, and a hundred spears took to the air. The missiles, launched from the height of the pyramid, dropped among the tightly packed soldiers below. Several found their marks in the shoulders or backs of the legionnaires.
The warriors on the ground surged forward, striking the square with savage force. This time the little formation began to give way. Several legionnaires fell, and each fallen trooper left a hole in the line.
Kachin got a glimpse of Erix again. She had been grabbed by one of the strangers, a very tall man, before the javelin volley fell. It had almost looked to the priest as if the man had shielded her body with his own, but Kachin could not be sure. Now he saw her struggling in the man's overbearing grasp.
The priest pushed his way to the forefront of the battle, ducking low among the swinging, surging warriors. He saw a gap in the legionnaires' line — indeed, it was now more gap than line — and dove through.
Kachin rolled across the earth, springing to his feet before the startled Erix. Her eyes flashed with recognition as he pulled her from the grip of the tall stranger.
Daggrande sensed the square collapsing and knew he was going to die, that his entire detachment would perish here in the shadow of this Helm-cursed monument. The dwarf's battle-axe chopped the arm from a spearman. He spun on his foot, swinging the weapon at arm's length to disembowel another even as his shield deflected the spear thrust of a third.
He saw another legionnaire fall, blood spurting from his torn throat. Several of his men were borne to the earth under the sheer weight of the attacking numbers.
'Look out!' he shouted, seeing a native lunging toward Halloran. The attacker didn't look like a warrior, he wore a white robe and carried no visible weapon. The dwarf saw him hurl himself at Halloran with abandon.
Daggrande sprang to the side of his old friend as Hal cut down one of the fearsome spotted warriors who were visible among the attackers.
And then things changed, quite suddenly.
Chitikas hovered in an easy circle above the battlefield, invisible to all the participants. The serpent greatly enjoyed the savagery of the fight, but his attention concerned primarily the man and woman in the center of the legionnaires' square.
He saw the woman step to the man's side, and a reptilian smirk twisted the feathered snake's still invisible features. Then Chitikas arched his scaly eyebrows as he saw a man — a priest, it seemed — rush toward the girl. At the same time, a dwarf joined the man.
But the press of attacking Payit grew overwhelming. It was obvious that soon the man would be dead. Shaking his head, annoyed at the need for unseemly haste, Chitikas acted.
Hal saw the pudgy white-robed man emerge from the mass and spring toward him. He turned to meet him before realizing that the man was coming after the girl, not him. He saw Daggrande's stocky form at his side. The dwarf's axe cut a deep gouge in the leg of an attacking warrior, and the native went down like a felled tree.
A bright light suddenly washed over the clearing, and the combatants all froze in momentary indecision. Hal blinked against the brightness and saw a whirling circle, the source of the light, descending from the sky toward the battle — toward him! He knew instantly that powerful magic threatened them. Grimly he raised his blade, facing the potent and supernatural attack.
He dimly noticed the natives backing away, bowing their heads in fear or reverence, bending toward the earth in supplication. He saw the girl beside him looking upward also, her face washed in the cool light.
The whirling circle dropped quickly as the legionnaires stood transfixed. Vaguely Halloran saw that the ring was made from the body of a huge flying snake. Its vast, brilliantly colored wings blurred from the speed of their motion, but were nonetheless visible. The glow emanated from the snake's body itself. Though not equal in brightness to daylight, it flared brighter than any source of nighttime illumination known to Maztica.
The broad ring, several paces across, settled around Halloran and Erix. The snake shifted and swirled its coils, embracing the pair. It could not avoid entangling Daggrande and Kachin at the same time.
Then the light disappeared, and with it, the four vanished within its grasp.
Mixtal gaped at the surreal scene below. He peered over the edge of the pyramid's top, from where he had watched the events below as night had fallen. The priest's mind seemed to settle into a damp puddle somewhere in the pit of his stomach, overwhelmed by the events of this still-early evening.
First the Jaquar Knight's objections thwarted the sacrifice of the enemy soldier. Then the girl had returned from the dead, still held by the strangers. He knew he had sacrificed her once, for the cold body still lay beside the altar. Battles of increasing size and ferocity had whirled around him. Then the couatl had appeared! The mystical creature of ancient history and legend, here, now!
And finally the sudden disappearance of the serpent and the four caught in its coils stunned Mixtal's brain into complete surrender. Collapsing on the stone surface, he wept.
Mixtal did not see the dark figure on the pyramid with him. He did not see the slender form, swathed completely in a black robe, bend over the body beside the altar, the body of the young woman, Martine.
But the priest heard the soft rustle of silk. He lifted his head to behold the Ancient One striding toward him, feet moving silently over the paving stones. Dimly Mixtal saw a pair of wide, pale eyes gleaming at him from the depths of a black cowl.
'So, cleric, you have made your sacrifice?' The voice came softly to Mixtal's ears.
'I did,' he said, nodding. 'You saw.'
Spirali looked back at the pale corpse before turning scornfully back to the priest. 'You have failed!' he spat. 'Failed Zaltec!'
Spirali reached a black hand forward, seizing the cleric by the throat, squeezing. But the attack ran deeper than a mere physical clasp.
Mixtal's eyes widened in a gape of unparalleled horror. His tongue protruded, his cheeks sucked futilely for air. And as he suffocated, he felt his soul drawn from him by the unspeakable might of the Ancient One. Mixtal knew as he died that his death would bring annihilation, a complete consumption by a vengeful force of unspeakable evil.
Spirali threw the husk of the man, a dried, stiff remnant, to the stones. The Ancient One looked at the now-mummified face, sneered at its terror-stricken features.
'Failed Zaltec, perhaps,' he whispered. 'But more importantly — far more importantly — you have failed the Ancient Ones.'
From the chronicle of Colon:
May these tales be preserved to shine in the light of the Plumed Serpent's glory.
Naltecona, greatest and most omnipotent ruler of the True World, mighty Naltecona, Revered Counselor of the Nexala and holder of the Seat of Flowers, who governs the lives and deaths of men with a wave of his hand, supreme Naltecona, blessed with the wisdom of his ancestors…
Naltecona has decided.
After months of fasting, after long consultations with his wisest clerics and magicians, he has decided. After the dozens of sacrifices consecrated to the younger gods, captive warriors slain, that the Revered Counselor may gain the insight he needs, Naltecona has decided.
He has heard the counsel of his war chiefs, who have urged him to muster his army and meet these invaders on the shore with a full display of the might of Nexal.
He has listened to gibbering sorcerers and soothsayers, who tell him the strangers are the incarnate forms of the Feathered Father, Qotal, returned to Maztica at last.
He has heard the fears, conveyed through Eagle flight, of the Payit warriors, who even now stand and face these strangers, perhaps in battle, perhaps in counsel.
All this has Naltecona heard, that his decision can be made with the wisest counsel, the greatest knowledge possible. All this he has heard, and he has decided.
He has decided to do nothing. The mighty Nexala, masters of Maztica, will sit and wait.
