A dark stone doorway marked a vine-shrouded temple before him. Spirali closed his eyes, but the concentrated emanations of the couatl were no longer present.
Nevertheless, he heard voices coming from the temple. One of them he recognized as Erixitl's.
'The bluff teems with warriors — at least a thousand, with more emerging from the jungle every minute.' Darien explained her observations to Cordell and the Bishou. They didn't question how she gained the information, both knowing that the elf woman could become invisibile, levitate or fly, assume the shape of an animal or monster, and employ other magical abilities as she needed. Her methods could not be questioned, and her results were invaluable.
'We must attack these pagan savages, now!' Bishou Domincus railed at the sky, shaking his fist at the enemy unseen in the darkness above.
'I'm ready to lead an attack,' growled Alvarro eagerly. 'We'll spit the devils on our swords!' The gap- toothed redhead had willingly echoed the cleric's cry for battle, and now they pressed an all-out attack.
'Be silent!' Cordell's tight voice instantly quelled their ranting. The commander continued, his voice low and tense.
'Think of our tactical position! We stand at the foot of a bluff. By Helm, they could use rocks as weapons!' Fury and frustration strained Cordell's voice. They hold the high ground!'
'This bluff seems to mark only this headland,' interjected Darien. 'To the west, the land drops off quickly.' Cordell raised his eyebrows. 'You have been busy tonight, my dear.'
The elf shrugged, her pale eyes veiled. 'I sought some sign of Daggrande or Halloran. Unfortunately, I saw nothing to indicate where they might have been taken by this glowing ring,'
'Very well. They were good legionnaires, but we have to assume they are gone.'
'Hiding!' snorted the Bishou. 'The young man avoids facing me, shirking the responsibility for his criminal carelessness!'
Cordell sighed softly but did not reply to the Bishou's threat. There will be time enough for that should we ever see Hal again, he thought. 'We shall sail along the coast, find a shore, and land, as the vigilant eye of Helm is my witness!'
Cordell looked into the Bishou's moist eyes. The captain-general's determination was a black fire burning in his heart as he vowed, 'And there, in the open, the legion will await the savages. I assure you, my friend, that your daughter will be avenged!'
'This is the Forgotten Shrine,' explained Kachin for Erixitl's translation. 'We are east of the mayzfields, within sight of the Flowered Temple of Ulatos.'
Erix explained for the benefit of the strangers. 'Ulatos is the great city of the Payit, not far from your landing point. Your ships lie a march of perhaps two hours to the east.' The translations of distance and time came easily to her. She realized that in both areas, the language of the strangers was far more precise than her own. Obviously they were a people who liked to measure things.
'Why did that priest kill Martine? Why did he choose her for his sacrifice?' The memory of the gory ritual burned in Halloran's mind like a nightmare that would not go away.
'The priest was mad,' explained Erix. 'He thought the woman was me.' Maddened by Chitikas, she added to herself.
'You mean this war was started by a bewitched cleric?' howled Daggrande. 'I might have known!'
But Halloran was thinking about her answer. 'Why does he want to kill you?'
'I… don't know.' The sight of her eyes left him absolutely convinced that she told the truth.
'Come, Erix' urged Kachin, in Payit. 'Let us hasten to Ulatos. We should leave the presence of these strangers.'
'But what about the danger in Ulatos?' Erix vividly remembered her abduction from the temple.
'I will see to your safety personally. The sanctity of the Silent Counselor's grounds shall not again be violated.'
Erix turned back to the two legionnaires. 'You will find yourself on the shore as we emerge from this shrine. Your friends lie to the east. Kachin and I return to our city, to the west.' She started toward the door, then stopped and looked back at Halloran.
'May your journey pass in peace.'
Halloran looked at the woman again. She seemed so much older than Martine, or himself, for that mailer. He suspected that she had not yet seen twenty years, yet she carried herself with a maturily and grace that fascinated him almost to the point of awe.
Yet Martine's terror-stricken face appeared in his memory again. He had failed his responsibility to her! She had been killed because a mad priest took her to be this woman in front of him. Perhaps that should make him angry at Erix, but instead it only made him more curious.
'I hope that we meet again,' he said, bowing.
Halloran preceded the others up the stairway leading out of the shrine. The twilight of approaching dawn filtered dim light through the foliage around them, and he saw a wide beach through the trees.
Erix followed him out of the shrine, then paused to look at him one last time. Kachin followed her, stopping in the doorway.
Suddenly the cleric's eyes widened. He sprang forward, pushing Erix roughly to the side. The black arrow intended for her heart lodged instead in the cleric's rib cage. Kachin gasped in deep pain and dropped to the ground.
Daggrande raised his crossbow, quickly sighting on the dark blur he thought he saw among the foliage. The black shape rolled to the side, evading his missile but revealing its presence by the movement.
Halloran charged the manlike figure, his silver longsword seeking flesh before him. Even though dawn's light had come as a rosy hue in the east, he could see nothing of his opponent but whirling shadow. Then he caught the dull glint of cold sleel.
Helmstooth clashed against another metal sword. The enemy's blade was black, but rang like true steel. Again and again the weapons met, silver and black. Sometimes sparks flared from the violence of the contact. The fighters dodged and ducked among the trees, hacking into trunks and through branches in their desperate attacks and parries.
Hal guessed his opponent to be of human size, perhaps a little smaller but possessed of a supple, wiry strength. He noticed that the swordsman was cloaked entirely in black, including his gloves, boots, and a silken mask. More importantly, the dark one's skill with the blade matched the best swordsmen he had ever seen.
With savage, silent violence, the dark figure rushed Hal, slicing his face and narrowly missing his bowels. Then the legionnaire kicked the wiry form away and stabbed once, twice, again, each time missing by a mere inch.
Halloran attacked and parried with all the skill in his arm and his brain. The dark figure seemed to flow away from his shining blade, deftly swirling beyond the point, and then the razor-edged return thrust whistled past Halloran as he used all of his speed to avoid sudden death.
Daggrande cocked his crossbow and aimed, but he could not get a clear shot into the melee. Even as red dawn blossomed to pink, as flowers and insects became visible among the fronds, the mysterious attacker remained shrouded in shadowy darkness. His garments, if such they were, seemed to float around him like a cloud of smoke, obscuring his limbs but in no way impairing his movement.
The fighter pressed Halloran back again, the blows coming more swiftly than ever. The legionnaire parried and retreated. Slowly he felt himself losing the fight. His arm felt like a leaden weight, and his brain began to struggle against fatigue. Still the dark stranger attacked, with no sign of strain or exhaustion. Dawn's pale illumination began to brighten the clearing around them, and Halloran fought for his life.
Then suddenly the black form darted away from him, rolling into the foliage. Like smoke, his shape seemed to dissipate. Hal lunged forward recklessly, his longsword lancing out toward his opponent's suspected location.
But his strike met only succulent greenery. He hacked at the fronds, but there was nothing there. As the first rays of the sun flickered across the treetops above them, Halloran and his companions realized that the attacker was gone.
