Of all of these, the massive and animated statue of Zaltec seemed most menacing to Cordell and his men. Though they couldn’t know that they saw the form of a deity among them, the fact of its awesome power and apparently irresistible strength were obvious simply from its size.
Cordell still hadn’t told Kardann about the giant figure that marched with the monster army. Indeed, the captain-general had often come to wonder about the wisdom of bringing the whining assessor along on this arduous journey. Such thoughts, then, brought him back to the questions at the very root of their march:
Who were these adventurers who had landed at Helm-sport? Why had they made captives of Cordell’s garrison? And what would be their reception for Cordell himself, once he arrived?
Unfortunately the fate of the men he had left behind offered no encouragement for him. Now Cordell began to wonder about plans and schemes-about ways to reach these potentially lifesaving men and bend them to his will. But now he would have to use his wits, for the force of strength certainly belonged to the other side.
And even then, supposing he could gain mastery of these newcomers, using them as the reinforcements lie so desperately needed, how could they stand against a hundred-foot-tall giant? Perhaps the newcomers had brought mages and their power would give them hope.
Still, it seemed an impossible task, with several other impossible tasks to accomplish before it could even be at-! tempted.
“What will it be, Father?” asked Erixitl quietly as she watched her father weave tufts of red feathers into his work of pluma. The marchers rested comfortably, scattered among many soft glades in the forest. Tomorrow, with the Itza warriors joining them, they would embark on the final leg of their journey to the Payit country and the sacred site of Twin Visages. Many weeks of travel remained, but the roads were known and the land ahead was fertile.
Lotil smiled, not slowing in the deft workings of his fingers. “1 do not know,” he said, with a hint of secrecy in his voice.
“Certainly you must have something in mind,” she prodded. “At times it looks like a great blanket, with an image of an eagle, and I think you are making a cloak for a warrior. Or else it looks like a lake, with forested hills all around, and I think you are making us a home.”
The plumaworker chuckled. “It is all these things and more, my daughter.
“Sometime, perhaps, it will be a feathered shield for our young warrior here, to protect him from the blows that one so brave is certain to attract.”
Jhatli looked up sheepishly at hearing the words. Though the youth had been silent, Lotil had somehow known where he sat, for the old man gestured to the youngster as he spoke.
The tale of his fight with the ants had spread rapidly through the group. Jhatli had sprung on the back of one of the creatures and sawed it in half with his maca as it squirmed and twisted beneath him. It was a feat that had earned him the instant respect of the Itza warriors.
“Or perhaps 1 weave a birthing blanket for you, my daughter. Your time draws near, I know, and we have little chance of knowing where we shall be then. You will need a proper mat upon which to give birth to such a child, the first to be born of both Maztica and the world beyond.”
Erixitl nodded, resting her hands over her round abdomen. She felt a kick and looked at Halloran, surprised to see tears in the corners of his eyes.
*Or, again, maybe I shall create a royal robe for your husband. Who better to wear the mantle of a king, eh?”
“No!” Hal sat upright, his voice taut. “I want no part of kings or armies when we are done with this. I want a place to live with my wife, to raise our child. That is all”
Lotil lapsed into silence then, his sightless eyes passing around the group in the glade. His fingers, tireless and unerring, continued to work their pluma.
From the chronicles of Coton:
On the joyful journey toward a meeting with the One True God
Our numbers grow steadily, it seems, and I sense the hand of the god in our strength. We are joined now by the warriors of Tulom-Itzi and the brave Gultec. The Itza grieve for their lost chieftain, but we hear the tale of his passing with many songs. Zochimaloc has died a hero of legend, and in his passing, he has destroyed those who would destroy his people.
He was a man of pluma, tills Zochimaloc, and he had the power to reach the Plumed One himself. It was this power that purchased victory for his people, and it is this same power that gives me the hope and the proof that Qotal is indeed near. He awaits, I’m certain, only the successful conclusion of our quest toward Twin Visages.
And now the Jaguar Knight brings his warriors, a thousand stalwart bowmen, into league with us. While the rest of his people return to their great city, this legion of warriors falls into file with our desert dwarves and the Little Men.
Now we form a great host. Halloran is our commander, and Erixitl is our leader. Even I, peaceful old cleric that I am, feel the martial splendor of our might.
I believe that nothing can stand in our path.
17
Cordell scrutinized the banner fluttering from the pole above Helmsport before turning to Chical with a muttered curse. The two men lay in the low concealment of a patch of brush on a flat, low rise in the wide savannah. “That’s the symbol of Don Vaez,” the captain-general informed his Maztican ally.
“You know this captain, then?” inquired the Eagle Knight.
“An old rival,” Cordell explained. “We fought as allies in the Pirate Wars, but he was never one I would have turned my back on. He’s always been jealous of the successes of others. I’m sure he leaped at the opportunity to come after me, though how he won the appointment is beyond me. There are many other, far worthier, mercenary captains along the Sword Coast.”
“His presence here… does it aggravate our problems?”
“I’m certain he’s not here to help-not to help me, in any event. This will require some careful planning. On the other hand, he’s not the best-loved officer ever to lead his men to war, and this fact may work to our advantage.”
The fifteen riders and twenty eagles had completed the long journey from the desert site of Tukan to the Payit city of Ulatos after weeks of hard riding-or flying, in the case of the Maztican warriors. Now the rest of the band of travelers remained behind, hidden in the jungle some distance back from the savannah, while Cordell and Chical had wormed their way forward to study both the city and the earthen fortress on the coast.
The dark walls of the rampart enclosed a large courtyard, protecting it against approach from three sides, while the fourth, to the north, abutted against the shore. The walls
sloped steeply upward to a platform around the top, but not so steeply that they could not have been climbed.
Beyond Helmsport, Cordell saw the masts of the ships, twenty-five in number, that had carried the new expedition to the shores of Maztica. A sizable herd of horses grazed on the flat, grassy savannah between the fort and the city. Sunlight glinted from the steel armor of many sentries who walked the ramparts of the fortress.
“Carracks… a good fleet,” the captain-general muttered absently. “Mostly bigger ships than the carracks and smaller caravels that brought my legion over here.”
“Enough to bring your legionnaires and the Kultakans here?” Chical inquired. Those troops should have reached the coast by now and made semi-permanent camp there. The next step in their utilization could only occur after Cordell gained control of that fleet.
“I think so. The problem, of course, is getting them to sail down there and get them. I know Don Vaez will never do it simply because I ask him. We’re going to have to be very persuasive indeed.”