quickened in dismay at the sight of Arquiuius's face. Was that fear he saw?
The blob wriggled once more, and then a stalk of obscene flesh hurled itself toward Halloran. Reacting by instinct alone, he sprang backward, saving his life by scant inches while the lightning blow struck the beaker from his hands.
'No!' Arquiuius's voice was audible this time, and full of acute terror.
The beaker crashed to the stone floor and shattered. A cloud of red gas whooshed upward from the contents, and the young apprentice stumbled backward.
He gaped at the sight of a huge mouth emerging from the smoke, heard the wizard's shrill death cry. Row after row of long, curving teeth stretched wide, spattering drops of acid drool onto their pathetically shrieking victim.
Halloran's primal instincts claimed him. He bolted from the lab, tearing around the many circuits of the descending stairway until, breathless, he dashed out the door in the base of the tower. Here he stumbled and fell headlong. He had forgotten to adjust for the slanting gravity of the tower as he stepped into the world beyond.
Quickly springing to his feet, the young man ran into the desert. His heart pounded and his lips grimaced across his clenched teeth. Nothing could make him return to that nightmarish world. Even as the tower rumbled and collapsed into dust behind him, he did not slow his desperate pace.
Nor did he look back as the settling dust pile slowly brightened with the light of the dawning sun.
Thousands of green, red, yellow, and blue feathers joined in a vast circle of brilliant color, forming a huge canopy. The steady, silent pulse of feather-magic, of pluma, lifted and lowered the canopy, gently fanning the hallway. Nevertheless, the forehead of the slave stationed beneath the fan glistened with perspiration as he bowed obsequiously to the Eagle Knight approaching him.
The veteran wore a tunic of black and white feathers, entwined by pluma into a fiber that could stop the penetration of the sharpest obsidian blade. Crimson plumes hung freely from the knight's arms, flowing through the air as he walked, and a short cape floated easily behind him.
Wordlessly, the Eagle Knight removed his feathered helmet, handing it to the humble manservant before the great doors. He took a dirty shawl from the servant, covering his handsome features with the filthy cloth, suppressing a grimace of distaste.
The servant looked down, embarrassed by the knight's debasement — but such was the will of Naltecona.
'You may enter the presence of the Revered Counselor, Honorable Captain of Hundredmen.' The servant quietly opened the door.
The knight stepped into the room, his eyes downcast, his coppery face expressionless. Immediately he knelt and kissed the floor. He rose and walked toward the dais, repeating the submissive gesture two more times before he stood below the throne of power. The warrior averted his eyes from the plumed figure before him, resting his gaze instead upon the raggedly dressed row of courtiers and clerics behind the splendid throne.
'Most Revered Counselor, I regret to inform you that our expedition against the Kultakans ended in disaster. The enemy fought well, luring us into ambush. Many of our warriors have gone to the flowered altars of Kultaka.'
Naltecona reclined along the floating cushion of emerald feathers, his eyes half closed. They must not see my distress! he thought grimly. 'You yourself, plus two of your comrades — and three Jaguar Knights as well — shall offer your hearts in penance to Zaltec. Pray that he is satisfied!'
'I can but hope that our First God finds my companions and me worthy substitutes.' Still the knight's face bore no expression.
'We will learn tonight.' The counselor rose and turned away from the man he had just condemned to death. He ignored the slowly swirling fans suspended in the air around him, then suddenly pushed in annoyance past the magical plumes to step across the dais. 'We will send another expedition tomorrow! Thus will the Kultakans learn the wages of defiance!'
The Eagle Knight showed no emotion. He kissed the earth before his ruler and backed to the door, stopping twice more to repeat the ritual of submission.
'My uncle?' The voice came from one of the rumpled courtiers, a handsome young man with steely courage glinting in his eyes. Even under the dirty cotton mantle, this man carried himself like a noble. Now he alone dared speak, when all around him, the older and more experienced lords of Naltecona held their tongues.
'Speak, Poshtli,' the counselor said.
'My uncle, would you not desire to teach the Kultakans a true lesson? Could you, in your wisdom, see to the rebuilding of the armies smashed in this latest venture? When they are reformed, they can join your fresh forces, and all of them march to battle Kultaka!' Poshtli bowed politely and waited calmly for Naltecona's response. He knew, as did they all, that a hasty expedition against the warlike Kultakans could only result in further disaster. As the son of the counselor's sister, Poshtli could dare offer advice to Naltecona, but he had no assurance that such advice would be either welcomed or accepted.
'Indeed,' mused the ruler with a disdainful glance at his other attendants. 'This I shall do. We shall strike against Kultaka only when I am ready.'
The doors burst open as Poshtli suppressed a sigh of relief. An obviously agitated warrior entered, quickly kneeling and kissing the earth as he bobbed toward the throne. His cotton battle armor was visible beneath the ragged shawl he had donned at the door.
'M-Most Highly Revered Counselor,' he stammered, pausing in fear of Naltecona's reaction.
'What is it? Speak to me, man!' The counselor sat erect upon the throne-bench now, glaring at the reckless intruder.
'It is the temple… the temple of Zaltec! Most Excellent One, please, you must come and see for yourself!'
'What do you mean by this? I must do nothing. Explain yourself!'
'The temple has burst into flames! I myself stood in the great square and saw the eruption. Even though no spark was touched to it, the very stone itself took to blaze! The temple is destroyed!'
Naltecona rose to his feet and sauntered down the stairs, closely followed by his horde of courtiers. He stood a full head above them all and walked with a conscious pride that made him seem taller still.
Naltecona could not entirely contain his agitation as he found himself hurrying through the door into the grand hallway beyond. Followed by his retinue and the guard, he crossed a walkway over one of the canals, which flowed directly through his palace. He then climbed a stairway and emerged onto a broad balcony.
Across the huge plaza stood the great pyramid, higher than any other structure in Nexal. Side by side atop the pyramid stood the tall temple of Zaltec and the lesser shrines of the sun god, Tezca, and the rain god, Calor, the two favorite sons of Bloody Zaltec.
Indeed, true to the guard's word, the large temple in the center smoked and crackled at the heart of a roaring blaze. The stone walls glowed red, oozing thickly downward. Before the stunned eyes of the watchers, the mighty building slowly melted away.
'There was no spark to start it, Most Revered Counselor,' repeated the guard.
'Indeed.' Naltecona looked for a long time at the dying blaze, his face an inscrutable mask. What can it mean? he wondered secretly.
'We shall have it rebuilt at once!' he barked. 'Until then, the clerics will use the Pyramid of the Moon. Zaltec shall still feast tonight.'
They must not see my fear!
The deep growls of the guardian jaguars still rumbled around Hoxitl as the cleric made his way slowly toward the mouth of the Highcave. He muffled a curse as he tripped against a rock in the darkness.
For an entire long night, he and a trio of apprentices had climbed huge, smoldering Mount Zatal. The volcano overlooked the city of Nexal and was known to house the sacred soul of Zaltec himself. Now, not far below the summit, Hoxitl and the young priests reached the entrance to the mystic cave that the patriarch knew as the home of the Ancient Ones.
'Wait here,' hissed the cleric, and his black-robed assistants needed no encouragement. They nodded their
