“They are indeed the spirits of the dead,” said Lotil. The blind man seemed to sniff the air, as aware of the presence! as any of them. “But they are not ghosts-not in the way that you think.”
The shades did indeed appear vaguely manlike, for they raised shadowy arms and extended black, smoking fingers toward the companions. Jhatli shivered, backing away from an apparition that reared up beside him, while Daggrande whirled this way and that, his axe held ready-for what, he didn’t know.
Halloran swallowed hard. He couldn’t fathom the raging horror evoked within him by these shapeless denizens. He only knew that they twisted his stomach with fear and almost compelled his steps to turn back toward the monsters that pursued them,
He saw a black, sack-like form rise up before him, and net lifted Helmstooth high. Something held his hand from striking-perhaps the fear that his steel could not affect anything so intangible-but in the face of the gleaming blade, the shade did not waver.
“Flee! They come to us!” Jhatli’s panic rang shrill in the cry of his voice as the youth turned and sprinted, piling into Erixitl and nearly knocking her off her feet. Beside Hal,
Storm reared back, neighing, her eyes rolled high into their sockets.
“Wait!” said the woman quickly, steadying Jhatli with a hand on his arm. “See? They do not attack.”
Indeed the shades seemed to linger at the very fringe of their vision, dancing in a somber cadence as they slowly circled the companions. They could have been human in shape, Hal thought, or nearly anything else about the size of
a man.
They closed in then, waving and swirling. Halloran saw tendrils of darkness reaching out toward them, and he felt cold terror grip his soul. Beside him, Jhatli whimpered, and he felt that the youth would have fled if not for the presence of his companions. Hal, too, considered flight as a serious alternative.
But some deeper calling bade him stay. He knew that the creatures outside this temple offered nothing but cold, sudden death. He had to trust the instincts of those who had led him here.
Coton started forward toward the ring of encircling darkness. Dimly Halloran saw something dark and intangible rise before the priest, and then Coton stopped, restrained by an invisible barrier. Hal’s flesh crawled at the sight of dim fingers of darkness plucking at the cleric’s robe, tugging him back toward the other humans.
If the cleric felt the same revulsion, he didn’t display it. Instead, he slowly yielded to the insistent force, stepping back until he again stood among his companions.
“Ah, these are the spirit wardens,” said Lotil softly, as if announcing a pleasant revelation. “They stand astride the paths of the gods, barring the paths to all.”
Before the blind feather-worker, Coton nodded gently, as if agreeing with Lotil’s assessment.
“To all?” Halloran, his fear rapidly fading, growled in frustration.
“So it is said,” Lotil replied with a shrug. “Though gods are fickle. Perhaps the right sacrifice may open the path.”
Coton turned to regard Erixitl. The priest’s eyes were soft and understanding. Behind them, they heard heavy footfalls and growling, snapping commands as the beasts of the Viperhand followed them into the ruin. Several guttural barks sounded close, and it seemed that the monsters followed the same path into the tangled ruin as the companions had.
Erix hesitated for a moment. She cast a pain-filled look at her father, and though the blind man could not see her, Lotil nodded slightly. Raising her hands to her shoulders, Erix lifted the leather thong suspending her amulet over her head. Holding it gently, allowing its dazzling presence to swing lightly in her hands for the last time, she stepped past the priest and laid it on the ground, at the very feet of that dancing shades.
Then the way lay open before them, though they couldn’t see the darkness recede. Instead, it was a sense of lightness. that propelled them forward, and they sensed no barrier to their flight.
The pale light of Hal’s sword lit their path as he stepped into the lead. Coton led the horse, while the keen-eyed Daggrande brought up the rear. They followed a winding corridor, sensing its descent under their feet.
Behind them, the howls of their pursuers echoed from the stone walls, a cacophony of chaos hastening them along. Then the snarls turned to yelps of terror, and soon the sounds of pursuit turned to flight as the monsters fled the nightmare wardens of the tomb.
From the chronicles of Coton:
In the long darkness of escape, we strive to reach the dawn.
Through the night we flee, following the roads of the gods beneath the City of Tewahca. Halloran calls on his power of sorcery, a power J have never seen, and brings a bright glow to the tip of his sword. This lights our way through the deepest of the maze.
And here we pass tombs of great kings and the graves of
brave warriors. Rich chiefs, too, lie here amid great treasures-heaps of gold that sometimes rise higher than the burial mounds themselves or floating images of pluma [hat waft temptingly overhead.
from these hallowed niches, dark figures move toward us some wrapped in their burial shrouds, others bare skeletons, animated by some dim and forgotten power. They stumble and shuffle in a ghastly facade of attack, and our courage is tested by each new nightmare.
But always die blessing of the spirit wardens looms over us, and it gives us passage where others would surely die. Finally we move from the deep tombs, working our way again toward the surface. The long night march leaves my companions and me exhausted, but there is no talk of pause nor of rest. Indeed, as we press forward and die hours pass, our urgency grows greater. Our steps fall quickly as haste compels us through the winding paths of darkness and
death.
And then, as we climb a great stairway that seems to raise us from the bowels of the earth, a breath of wind touches our faces. Then we see the cave mouth, with the rich blue of dawn beckoning beyond.
9
The green parrot winged steadily across the desert lands above the vast wasteland of sand and rock and brush. N where along Gultec’s eastward course did he see water; seemed as though only the narrow strip of land followed the Nexalans had received the blessing of the gods. The of the House of Tezca remained very much the same bar-waste it had always been.
Finally the bird reached a long shore, where a smooth beach, outlined in foaming breakers, marked the end of the desert and the beginning of the coral blue Sea of Azul. This crystalline water filled the gap between the mainland of Maztica and the jungled peninsula of Far Payit.
Gultec felt the strain of the long flight in his wings, but the summons of his master, Zochimaloc, urged him onward.
Now, however, the parrot dove, breaking its descent to race just above the glittering surface of the sea.
Then, in the blink of an eye, the bird did a strange thing: if dipped and dove into the crest of wave, tucking its wings close against its body and disappearing into the water.
The parrot vanished in a shower of spray. Two dozen feet farther along the bird’s path of flight, a blue dolphin broke the surface, wriggling in the air for a second before diving back into the water. Sleek and powerful, the mammal dove and splashed its way steadily eastward, bursting from that sea in a rainbow of spray before nosing gracefully back into the cool, blue-green depths.
The dolphin that was Gultec dove after a school of small fish, feasting for several minutes before he again broke the surface to breathe. Gultec felt a wonderful sense of exhilaration, broken only by the knowledge that his master’s summons indicated serious trouble ahead.