The former priest remained devout, for was not the power of Zaltec manifest in Harak himself? In his long arms and legs, the green and wart-covered skin a thin disguise for the strands of ropelike sinew beneath? In his hooked talons, or his long, curving fangs?
These thoughts propelled the great troll forward. The others of his kind, three hundred strong, lumbered after their leader. They had pressed through the barren wasteland in a long, straggling file, scrambling up steep slopes of dusty red rock or picking their way through chaotic,
boulder-strewn expanses. Now finally they all quickened their pace. The sense of anticipation permeated the band until a frantic eagerness marked their scramble up the last, steepest portion of the ridge.
At last the beasts crested the summit and stood there, outlined by the last rays of the dying sun, staring in dumbfounded awe into the valley before them. The massive pyramid dominated the scene, but the ruins stood out clearly before the trolls, framed by lengthening shadows. The specks of the companions were invisible in the distance, for they had reached the base of the pyramid. Yet Harak knew that they were there-especially the woman who wore the pluma.
He thought again of this woman. In the dim memory of his brain, he knew she was called the Chosen Daughter of Qotal. He knew that she carried the blessing of the Plumed Serpent. Vet why would she come here?
And why would she draw him after her?
Then he felt another presence, an imminent sense of great power and great menace. He sensed its nearness and knew of its impending arrival. From the north it came, a growing and dominant power that shrank every Other feeling into nothingness. Finally Hanak trembled in the glory and awe of his bloodthirsty god.
And at last he understood.
“The warriors are ready, my chieftain,” reported Tokol. The leader of the Kultakans was the first to report to Corded, but this fact did not surprise the commander. Despite the disaster in Nexal and the long flight with his Nexalan enemies, Tokol had remained fiercely loyal to the general who had conquered his nation.
Cordell tried to shake off a grim feeling of unease as darkness settled over the vast camp. The Nexalans had reached the valley Gultec had discovered, and in truth it offered a lush bounty-not only water, grain, and berries, but an abundance of fish and fowl as well.
Also to its credit, the valley had a high, sleep rim separating it from the natural pathway by which they had entered. Knowing that the beasts still pursued them, Cordell and the chiefs had deployed their fighting men along this crest.
At least, that was the plan. Tokol’s warriors, some five thousand strong, promised a good hold on the right flank. Cordell’s legionnaires would stand in the center. The left flank, which was the longest, had been entrusted to the Nexalans, who could muster some twenty thousand warriors. But now Cordell waited to hear back from Chical or any of the other war chiefs responsible for positioning that line.
He stiffened as he heard a sentry cry a challenge, but then the clatter of hoofbeats told him that one of his own men approached. Cordell turned to face Grimes as the rider dismounted and raised his hand in casual salute.
“They’re out there, but still a couple miles back,” he reported. “A big camp of em. They seem to be settling in for the night”
“Did any follow the decoys?” Cordell asked.
“You mean Daggrande, with Halloran and his woman?” asked the captain.
“Yes, dammit! Did they draw any of the beasts away?”
“One of my men saw a large company of big ones-trolls, the whole lot-heading for the east ridge. It seems likely that’s who they were after.”
“Well, that’s something, anyway.” Cordell turned as another shape emerged from the darkness. He recognized the tall, haughty figure of Chical, captain of the Eagle Knights.
“My warriors are emplaced upon the ridge. If they come, we will meet them. With the favor of the gods, we will throw them back.” Chical reported to the captain-general, but he did not bow.
“Good,” Cordell replied. The line of defenders was ready, straddling the route between the monsters and the Nexalans in the valley At night they were most vulnerable, and this was when he most feared an attack. They could only wait for an attack, or dawn, whichever came first.
“With the favor of the gods…” he repeated after Chical and Grimes had left. Could they ask for that much anymore?
The eagle perched on the platform atop the pyramid. His bright eyes glittered as he looked at the humans and the dwarf who climbed to meet him. The companions gasped for air under the strain of the long climb, while the drop to the highest terrace of the pyramid fell dizzyingly away below. Each flight of stairs was successively steeper than the last until here, near the summit, they placed their hands on steps that seemed mere inches from their faces as they carefully scaled the last stone stairway.
“We have come, Lord Poshtli,” said Erix quietly as they finally reached the summit. “You have called us and we have come.”
The eagle cocked its head to the side, and it seemed to Halloran as ii” the bird understood her words perfectly. He remembered the noble warrior who had been his friend, and he wondered how this bird could be that man. Yet he never questioned the fact that this was Poshtli.
The top of the pyramid formed a broad square plaza, perhaps fifty paces on a side. The temple building itself occupied most of the square, though a wide shelf passed around the building on all four sides. Though the wall had appeared featureless from the distance, now they could see that intricate carvings of snakes, birds, and jaguars covered the sides of the temple building. The creatures, carved in detailed relief, had been left unpainted.
The huge door yawned before them, larger now even than it had seemed from the ground below. It loomed a good thirty feet high and nearly that wide.
But their sense of proportion vanished entirely as they stepped through the door. They entered a monstrously huge chamber, with floor and walls of stone and a roof of thatch supported by the longest tree trunks they had ever seen. A dim glow lighted the temple interior, though no source of light was visible.
It took only an instant to realize that the building, on the inside, was a far larger structure than it was on the outside.
“This is truly a place of the gods!” whispered Jhatli, staling around in open-mouthed awe. The cleric Coton stepped lightly past them and turned to the companions. His face bore an impish, almost childlike smile.
The carvings on the outer walls continued within, extending across the high walls. A pattern of inlaid stones, depicting butterflies, fish, and hummingbirds in square relief covered the entire floor.
The eagle stepped through the door behind them and then, with a beat of powerful wings, took flight. Poshtli soared into the air and then coasted in gentle circles, high above the floor.
At the center of the vast chamber stood a clean white block of stone. No one had to tell Halloran that this was an altar dedicated to Maztican gods, though he felt a sense of relief at its pristine cleanliness. It was unmarred by the sinister, rust-colored stains that so often designated these sacred altars as the feeding plates of the bloodthirsty deities.
“What do we do now?” asked Hal, with a look at his wife.
“I know,” she said. “I don’t know how, but 1 know!’
Erixitl, with Hal at her side, advanced slowly toward the center of the huge chamber, reaching it after a hundred steps. There she removed her cloak and placed it on the altar. Then the pair hurried back to join the others just inside the door.
“What was that all about?” Daggrande wondered aloud, but he lapsed into silence when Erix ignored him. Instead, he, like the others, focused on the center of the room.