they had imprisoned her, clearly agitated. He didn't want to believe her, but he couldn't think of a good reason for her to make up such a story.
Erixitl looked around impatiently. They had placed her in some sort of storage room. She saw jugs of octal, baskets of mayz, and a large, locked door. High up on the wall, sunlight streamed into the room, and she could see flashes of clear blue sky, now streaming in from the west.
'How long before sunset — before the full moon rises?' she asked. 'Do you really think you can protect the Revered Counselor if the gods have decreed his death?'
'Isn't that what you tried to do?' Cordell shot back. 'If his death is ordained, how could your rescue have changed that fate?'
'Perhaps it couldn't,' Erixitl murmured, grim defeat staring her in the face.
A sudden knock on the door pulled their attention from each other. 'General, you'd better get out here!' The guard's voice, from beyond the portal, carried notes of urgency.
'What is it?' Cordell demanded irritably.
'Warriors, sir. They keep pouring into the plaza. They've got the Kultakans outnumbered already. They haven't attacked yet, but more of 'em keep coming.'
Without another word to her, Cordell darted through the door. It slammed again, leaving Erix alone with her thoughts. She looked upward and saw that the sunlight still streamed into the room, but now the beams were black, as if the sun cast nothing but shadows.
Lost in her despair, she didn't hear the door open again. A cool whisper of air against her cheek was her first warning, and she spun to face the leering visage of Captain Alvarro.
The expression of animal hunger in his eyes sent chills coursing through her body.
'What do you want?' she demanded.
He opened his mouth and appeared to speak, but no sound came to her. Then Alvarro stepped closer to her, and as if he had passed an unseen barrier of silence, his voice became audible.
'… think you know what I desire,' he said, his thin smile displaying his gap-toothed gums.
Erix saw the sharp dagger in his hand. 'Did Cordell order you to do this?' she asked calmly.
Alvarro sneered. 'He doesn't know. But you won't be able to warn him, either. Nothing that happens in here will be heard outside.'
Her mind whirling, Erixitl tried to think of a plan, a counter to this beast's approach. He advanced smugly. 'Hal's wench — and a mighty proud thing you are,' he chuckled. He swaggered closer, confident.
No sounds, he had told her. Erix didn't understand how, but she suspected this meant that he had help from the elf wizard. Her mind flashed back to her immediate problem, Alvarro. She remembered the man from the feast at Palul. The man had swilled octal as if the drink was the nectar of life itself.
'Why should I make a sound?' she inquired, trying to keep the terror from her voice. Her eyes falling on the jugs along the wall, she lifted one. 'Here. First you want a drink, I know.'
The captain blinked, surprised at her lack of fear. He snatched the jug and sniffed it suspiciously. 'Sure, I'll drink,' he grunted, raising the flask and guzzling the fiery stuff. It ran from his lips, soaking his red beard and dripping to the floor.
Overhead, the sunlight on the wall began to fade. Erixitl turned her back on the man, sickened by the sight of him, desperate for escape. She had so little time, but what could she do?
She still had her token, inside of her dress, but while it might stop Darien's mightiest magics, it offered little protection against a crude approach such as Alvarro's. The pouch on her belt chafed her hip as she turned back. Her only other possession, it held only the little glass vial of potion.
The potion she had feared to allow Halloran to drink. She still remembered the shadowy explosion of black terror she had seen when he raised it to his mouth.
Alvarro smacked his lips, lowering the empty jug. 'You're a pretty one, d'you know that? I bet you do things for Halloran!'
Her stomach churned as he looked her up and down. He took a step closer.
'Y'know, if you do those things for me, I just might not kill you,' he lied. He reached a burly paw to her shoulder, and Erix turned slowly away, forcing herself not to strike him. She knew the stocky horseman could easily overpower her if she gave him cause to attack.
Her hand fell on the pouch, and she slipped the bottle out. She sensed it burning against her hand — a vile and dangerous thing, it was. Roughly he spun her around to face him, his mouth a few inches from her own.
'I–I give him octal' she said, trying to be calm through her terror. 'He can drink very much. It — it gives him great pleasure!'
With false lightness, she turned away, snatching up another jug. A quick gesture dumped the contents of the vial into the octal before she whirled back to Alvarro. 'Here — I can do the same for you!'
Her heart pounded as the man brushed the jug aside. 'I can have that anytime,' he grunted. 'I want something a little more special.'
Until she felt the wall at her back, Erix was unaware that she had been backing slowly away. Now she stood, trapped by one of Alvarro's arms on either side of her. She still held the jug in her hand and smelted the sweet reek of octal on his breath.
'Come. Can we sit?' she said, slowly and carefully. She must not arouse his suspicions!
Scowling, Alvarro nevertheless allowed her to step aside and sink to the floor. Obviously her reaction wasn't the one he had expected. He sat roughly beside her, a curious expression on his face. 'Aren't you frightened?' he asked bluntly.
'Yes — I am,' she admitted, 'terrified, actually. 'But we are a fatalistic people. Our gods teach us not to fight the inevitable. You are here, we're alone. I know that I am in your power.'
Every muscle in her body screamed for her to strike out at this brute, to punch and pummel him. But a violent contest with Alvarro would certainly be futile, so she continued to use her wits. She raised the flask, not offering it to him but insuring that he saw it.
'Give me that,' he grunted, snatching it from her hands. He raised the neck to his mouth and once again took a long swallow. Erixitl watched, trembling with fear. Would the potion, diluted by octal, have any effect at all? If it did, what would that effect be?
Alvarro set the half-empty container aside, smacking his lips. Suddenly, with shocking violence, he turned on her, pressing her to the floor and climbing on top of her. A mad fire gleamed in his eyes.
Then the man grunted once. His eyes widened and his tongue protruded. His fingers clutched for her neck, and his body shook with convulsions.
Finally he stiffened, gasping inarticulately, and died…
Groaning weakly, Erixitl crawled from beneath him, rolling away from the repulsive form. For long moments, she gasped for breath, nearly gagging. She looked at the little bottle, still in her hand. Reflexively she hurled it against the wall, watching it shatter.
She saw her hopes reflected in the shards of glass that scattered all over the floor, disappearing in the fading light of the sun.
Then she sensed movement beside her, and whirled in shock. Another figure had entered the room, not through any aperture — not through any means she could see. This one looked at her with a trace of humor in his slitted, unblinking eyes. Great feathery wings bent slowly, suspending a twisting, serpentine body in the air. His voice, when he spoke, was a sibilant whisper.
'Greetings,' said the feathered snake. 'I am Chitikas Couatl, and I have returned.'
From the chronicles of Colon:
To the chronicler is given the sight, that afterward the tale of the Waning may be told.
The gods gather in the gallery of their immortal cosmos now to watch the arena floor below. Each is sublime and confident in his, or her, own presence. Each takes little note of the other gods, watching instead the play of the humans below.
This may be their undoing. Helm licks his lips as his men count their gold, an ever-growing pile within the palace of Axalt. The Bishou makes loud thanks, and the god basks in the praise.
Zaltec feasts upon the hearts that are offered, but the massive feeding does not slake his hunger. If anything, it inflames him. Now his sacred cult seethes and strains with warlike fervor. They crave the release of an attack, a chance to feed their god as he has never eaten before.
