“Lady of the Plume,” Gultec began, “1 must leave now. My destiny calls.”
She embraced the Jaguar Knight but did not try to dissuade him. “1 know of destiny,” she whispered softly. “May it be a load you can hear.”
Gultec looked into her face, holding her shoulders. “It can be a blessing as well as a burden. Whatever its form, it is laid upon you. You must not fight it.
A frown creased her forehead, but Erixitl sighed slowly and relaxed. She sensed a deep kinship with the Jaguar Knight, and she knew that he spoke wisely. “1 will try to remember,” she promised.
“The acts of the gods are not easily understood. Once I fought wars for the cause of Zaltec, and even worked with priests to further the causes of that god of war-god of death, more rightly!”
“I remember,” Erixitl said dryly. They both smiled now, though the memory was not pleasant. Gultec had bound Erix and led her to an intended sacrificial death on the shores of the Eastern Sea. Only the arrival of the white-winged “sea creatures,” later proven to be the ships of the Golden Legion, had saved her.
“But my own destiny took me to Far Payit, and there I
learned the ways of this god you call Qotal. His wisdom is proven in that he has chosen you as his herald.”
Once again Erix shook her head. “What does that prove? How am I aiding the cause of his arrival-his promised arrival?”
“That I do not know. But know this, Erixitl of the Nexala: When the knowledge comes, you will be the first to receive it.”
Around the two, the vast camp of Mazticans came slowly awake. Dawn’s pale blue light filtered across the desert, shining on the feathers of the eagle that still circled to the east. Already word of the problems facing them on this day had spread among the refugees.
All had heard of the massacre the previous day of the band of stragglers, a thousand lives snuffed out in one brutal attack. Though the news caused tension and fear, Erixitl noticed no sign of panic among her countrymen, and this made her proud.
The people had heard of the bountiful valley discovered by Gultec and reported by other scouts as well. The swiftest of the marchers could expect to lie there by nightfall, while the rest of the band would reach it by the middle of the following day.
Yet what good was such a fertile place if it would merely be swept over by the surging wave of war? At best, it seemed to offer a temporary sanctuary-a respite of a day, perhaps two-in a journey that threatened to become a way of life.
And then there was the matter of the great eagle. Many had witnessed the miracle, as the tale of the bird’s appearance as Poshtli was now called, and they had insured that the story spread throughout the camp. But now the eagle veered away from the promised route to food and water, and the path to safety was no longer clearly defined.
Abruptly Gultec turned away Erixitl gasped as his shape shifted, his transformed appearance clear in the cool light, He moved quickly then, in a flash of bright green feathers, and disappeared. She saw a large parrot take to wing, and then the bird turned one bright eye toward her as it fluttered higher into the air. In a few moments, it was go: winging strongly toward the east.
“There, to the east,” she said softly as Halloran turned to her. “That is where Poshtli flies, now Gultec as well. It is where I must fly, too. I know Poshtli shows us the path- toward what I’m still not sure.” She looked at her husband, and he nodded. He, too, had observed the eagle’s change of course. While a sheltered valley, with food and water, lay a day’s march to the southwest, Poshtli now soared over arid lands, a broken waste of jagged ridges and deep, barren gulches.
“I’m coming with you,” he promised. “But everyone?”
She shook her head. “Let the people go to the valley. They can stop there to rest. I believe Poshtli shows the path for me-for you and me-alone.”
Halloran looked to the narrow ridge that loomed to the east, knowing of the bleak desert (hat lay beyond. Silently he vowed to do his utmost to see Erixitl safely through that waste. It was all another part of their search for a home, he told himself. And someday they would find one.
As the Mazticans bestirred themselves, many already starting on the trail toward the southwest, Erixitl and Halloran found Cordell and Daggrande among the camp of the legionnaires.
“We need your help,” Halloran began. Cordell’s eyes flashed at the news, and his hand went instinctively to the hilt of his sword,
“Speak,” he requested.
“We are leaving the trail, following Poshtli to the east. He flies over the bare desert.” Then Halloran described the lush valley that lay to the southwest, knowing that Grimes and some of the other riders had already found it as well. “Go with the people and keep an eye out for attack. If you can make a defensible position there, set up a long-term camp.”
“Why do you think he’s taking you that way?” Cordell had known Poshtli as an adversary, and a courageous one. Too, he had witnessed the man’s appearance in the guise of the bird. But he wasn’t willing to let Halloran and Erix go without some plan.
“Qotal.” Erixitl replied simply. “Somehow I am tied in to his return. He is the only force that can counterbalance Zaltec and his creatures. I must do what I can to bring him back to the True World”
Halloran knew the resentment his wife felt for her enforced role in this game of the gods, yet he heard none of it in her voice. She spoke as a true believer, and Cordell accepted her faith without question.
“Good luck to you, then,” he agreed. “I’ll get the company together. The Kultakans will stand bravely, and so will these Nexalan warriors. I’m sure we can hold the bastards at bay!”
Cordell’s voice carried renewed enthusiasm at the prospect of battle and action, as Hal had known it would. He understood as well as anyone the heavy toll that the long retreat had exacted from the aggressive general. Still, to Halloran the commander’s optimistic assessment of his chances seemed almost reckless.
“I’m coming with you,” Daggrande declared, facing Hal and Erix. He coughed awkwardly. “That is, if you think you could use some help.”
Halloran looked at his old companion with deep affection. I know we could use your help, my friend.”
“Don’t get mushy on me,” huffed the dwarf, his own voice gruff with emotion. “Just let me get my whetstone-my damned axe keeps going dull, what with all the dust and all!”
Daggrande marched away, and Hal watched him with affection. A “dull blade” by the old dwarf’s estimate was still as sharp as a barber’s razor, he knew. The sturdy veteran’s presence would greatly enhance their chances of survival.
Several Mazticans approached. Hal recognized the priest Xatli and the Eagle Knight Chical. Erixitl explained their plans and accepted their good wishes for their journey. The cleric of Qotal looked at her seriously.
“Out there in the desert, sister, I sense that your destiny awaits. I would offer to accompany you, to offer whatever feeble aid I can, but I know this: You will have the aid of someone far greater than myself.”
“Who do you mean?” she asked, surprised.
The cleric shook his head. “1 do not know, but I sense it
about you. You will lie carried to your final challenge on the wings of your friends.”
“I hope you’re right,” Erix admitted with a shake of her long black hair. She pulled her cloak, growing brighter with each minute of increasing daylight, tightly around her shoulders.
The great monolith looked like a living form as it moved. Two great legs, thicker than massive tree trunks, supported it and carried it cumbersomely forward. Two arms, humanlike in shape but tipped with wicked talons of crooked stone, swung at its sides.
The form of Zaltec disdained the broken causeways that still connected the island to shore. Instead, the huge stone form waded into Lake Tezca. striding easily through the thick mud. The water came only to the monstrous form’s knees.