Finally they approached the large headquarters building, a wooden frame house with oilskin windows, where several candles glowed in still-lighted rooms. Before the front door stood a pair of spearmen, weapons upraised and backs placed squarely to the wall.
“I’d bet all the gold in Nexal that Don Vaez is in the bedroom upstairs,” whispered Cordell. Indeed, as they watched, a shadow passed before the oilskin, a profile wherein the long, curling locks of hair were plainly visible. Cordell turned to Chical, and the Eagle Knight nodded. Melting into the shadows with three of his men, he suddenly shifted and dropped. In another moment, his powerful wings carried him upward, followed by his comrades. The four eagles soared swiftly and silently to the peak of
the roof over Don Vaez’s building. The men on the ground saw them as alternating shades of black and pale gray as they shifted back to human form.
Creeping to the edge of the roof, they sprang suddenly to the earth. With swift, silent blows, they immobilized the two startled sentries.
“Let’s go!” whispered Cordell, starting toward the door.
A harsh clatter, like someone spilling a cartload of firewood, suddenly crashed through the compound. Cries of alarm arose from many of the tents, as sleepy men-at-arms struggled free of their bedrolls.
Furiously Cordell whirled to see Kardann, standing beside the heap of weapons that had moments earlier rested neatly in their racks. The assessor looked at the captain-general, a terrified expression upon his pudgy face. With a muffled curse, Cordell started toward him, but he instantly realized that recriminations would have to wait.
“Hurry!” he commanded, sprinting through the darkness toward the house. A dozen legionnaires and an equal number of Eagle Knights, led by Grimes, raced after him, weapons drawn and ready Kardann remained behind, shrinking into the darkest shadows, unnoticed by the charging band.
The front door of the building swung open as Cordell approached, revealing several men in breastplates carrying drawn swords. Chical and the other warriors pressed back in the shadows to either side of the door.
“Who’s there?” one of the men demanded.
Dogs barked throughout the fortress as more and more men stumbled from tents or barns.
“You there! What’s happening?” The man at the door barked the question at Cordell, then gaped in astonishment as the captain-general dove toward the door.
“Sound the alarm!” cried the guard, trying to slam the portal shut. Shouts and challenges echoed throughout the fortress as rudely awakened men suspiciously accosted their neighbors. In several places, the clash of steel rang out briefly.
Cordell crashed into the door with the full force of his charge and felt it spring inward. He bowled over the guard
just beyond and trampled past another who tried to stand against him in the hallway.
The stairway led upward before him, and Cordell charged up the steps. He crashed through the door to the sleeping chamber just in time to see a silken-gowned figure spring through the window.
Cordell raced across the room, looking below in frustration as Don Vaez sprinted away from the house. By now the entire garrison was alarmed, and a hundred men gathered around their commander.
Chical entered the room, where Cordell still stared out the window, bitter defeat burning in his gut.
“We are all in the house,” reported the Eagle Knight, “but it would appear that they have us trapped.”
“Surrender, Cordell!” cried Don Vaez. Triumph filled his voice. “Give yourself up and things may go easier with you!”
“1 will not deliver my sword to a scoundrel!” Cordell shouted back, placing all the strength of his will into his voice. “A scoundrel and pirate! Why do you hold my men, the garrison of this fort, in chains? Surely they offered you no threat.”
“ You are the renegade!” taunted Don Vaez. “You planned to keep the riches of Maztica for yourself!”
“You’re mad!”
“Give up. and you shall have ample opportunity to testify at your trial. Defy me, and you shall certainly die!”
Cordell leaned backward with a groan. He looked at Chical, sensing rather than seeing the ranks of crossbows and harquebuses leveled at the house from the outside.
“You’d better think about escape,” he said grimly. “No sense in your warriors getting caught in the snare that’s wrapping around me.”
Chical looked at the encircling forces. He knew that he and his eagles could take wing and escape Don Vaez’s trap. Yet what would they do then? The Beasts of the Viperhand marched steadily closer, and their options for resistance steadily shrank.
Abruptly they saw a form fly toward their window. A metal-helmed figure sat upon a small flying carpet, and as he approached, they saw that he wore the silver gauntlets that displayed the all-seeing eye of Helm. The cleric hovered on his carpet out of arrow range, yet able to see in the high window. He needed only the command of Don Vaez to soar inside and cast a spell against the intruders.
“Cordell is in there!” Kardann shouted, his voice rising several tones in his excitement.
Cordell heard Kardann’s unmistakable squeal. He saw the little man burst from the shelter of his hiding place, pointing wildly up toward the window. The assessor ran over to Don Vaez and, panting, blurted out his explanation.
“I tried to stop them. I raised the alarm so that you’d see them! Now you have him, and he’s the one who knows where the gold of Ulatos is hidden!”
The last phrase got Don Vaez’s attention. Meanwhile, the cleric hovered outside the window, speaking firmly. “You will surrender now or my captain will have the house torched. Surely you do not wish to perish thus, in the flames?”
Cordell whirled to pace rapidly back and forth in the small room. Finally he cursed, then nodded. “I have no choice,” he said to Chical. “But please, get your warriors and prepare to fly.”
He turned back to the window. “Very well,” the captain-general called down. “We’re coming out.”
Leading his men down the stairs, he waited as Chical gathered his warriors at the house’s upper windows. When he judged that they must be ready, he opened the door and stepped outside.
A smirking Don Vaez advanced to greet him. “Your sword, sir!” demanded the pompous adventurer, extending his hand expectantly.
Barely suppressing his rage, Cordell ungirded his blade. He handed the weapon, hilt first, to his rival.
“What’s that?” demanded one of the men-at-arms, pointing skyward.
“Treachery!” snarled Don Vaez, cuffing the unarmed Cordell with the hilt of his own sword. “What is the meaning of ‘his?” He gestured at the sky.
Great birds lunged from the windows of the house, winging upward and swiftly disappearing into the night sky. “Shoot them! Stop them!” cried the captain.
Archers launched their missiles into the air. Several harquebusiers raised their weapons as the birds vanished into darkness. A sound like the explosion of thunder crashed through the fortress as the loud, smoky weapons hurled their iron balls after the fleeing eagles.
One of the creatures squawked loudly and suddenly came back into view. It fluttered desperately on one wing, but it couldn’t fly. In another moment, it crashed to the ground before Don Vaez.
From the chronicles of Coton:
Amid the suddenly darkened paths, we make our way toward a destiny that has grown terribly obscure.
Erixitl’s affliction is no natural malady, of this I am certain. All of the blessings of pluma worked by her father and all of the clerical arts worked by me prove to be of no avail.
The source of the darkness, I know, is hishna, though in a strange and unfamiliar form. I sense the power of talonmagic assailing her, yet it is a more potent attack than any I have previously encountered. A great and black power has seized her, and so she resists all of our attempts to draw her back to the world of the living.