Indeed, Don Vaez had promised to send the assessor home on the first ship, with the shipment of gold they had been about to unearth. Then somehow the treacherous Cordell had escaped, and Kardann’s future became a ruined shambles. Don Vaez’s men had turned to the new commander with no thought toward legalities or even common decency!
What was the matter with those men, anyway? How could they renounce an oath of loyalty and accept a new commander in the middle of a campaign? But such they had done.
Immediately Kardann had understood that the new organization would have no place for him, or if it did, that place might well be found at the end of a rope. Without thinking, he had fled from the fortress, from the eager hands of fickle soldiery suddenly so anxious to do Cordell’s bidding.
So now he found himself in this infernal, eternal jungle. He pressed forward, cursing as thorns pricked his hands but not slowing his pace as his robes were slowly torn away. All he could think of, all that drove him now, was the thought of getting as far as possible from the madman who now commanded Helmsport.
Ether had assumed the dimensions of infinity to Poshtli. For a timeless era-an entire lifetime of a man, for all he knew-he had ridden the shoulders of the god Qotal. Bright plumage surrounded him, softly cushioning and comfortably warm. His body craved neither food nor drink.
Yet still the god remained little more to him than a great transport, carrying him across the worlds, yet conveying little of his mission or his might.
Indeed, Poshtli had begun to sense that the god needed little from humans, save that they open the passage for him again to return to the world. Once he reached Maztica, however, Qotal would feel no compulsion to heed the pleas of his worshipers. They were puny mortals to him, and as such, beneath his cosmic concerns.
But now Poshtli sensed a nearness again, a form of substance somewhere, not too distant, but still invisible within the ethereal fog. For just once, briefly, that mist parted.
He saw revealed before him a shore of verdant green surrounding a small, lichen-encrusted pyramid. Below the pyramid, on a high, seaward bluff, two faces gazed impassively outward. And then Poshtli understood.
They looked seaward, and they searched for the return of the God.
The week following Cordell’s usurpation of command passed quickly. Erixitl remained comatose, and nothing that anyone among the Mazticans or the foreigners could do seemed capable of provoking any kind of response.
Chical and the eagles maintained a steady vigil over the approaching monsters and the huge stone god that led them. The miles passed quickly beneath their footsteps, and all in Helmsport and Ulatos felt growing fear as word of the
inevitably approaching mass reached the city.
It was early in the morning, seven days after Cordell’s victory, that Chical once again glided to the earth within Helm-sport and quickly shifted back to his human form The captain-general already stood before him, summoned by guards who had seen Chical approaching and who knew how eagerly Cordell awaited this important report.
“They are very close now,” Chical reported. “They no longer march as an untamed horde. They have been trained into an army.”
“When will they get here?” Cordell asked.
Chical looked at the sun, just rising above the eastern horizon. “I would guess sometime today, perhaps as early as noon if they press on as vigorously as they have been.”
“No need to lighten their pace now,” growled the commander. “Not when they’re this close. Is there any word from the city about Erixitl?” he inquired.
“No change,” reported the eagle, who had stopped at Ulatos before coming to the fort.
Cordell grimaced. He didn’t know why he placed so much hope in the recovery of this young woman. There certainly seemed to be no rational reason for it. Yet after these long months in Maztica, coming so close to ultimate victory only to have it changed, by the caprice of the gods, to complete catastrophe, Cordell had begun to think differently about the world-He knew that Pryat Devane had worked his best magic upon Erix, yet the man had returned to Helmsport in failure. He hadn’t understood the affliction that assailed her, though he had predicted that it would wear off in time. Bui too he had sensed a greatness, a power in the young woman, that had clearly awed him.
While Erixitl remained unconscious, there seemed little that they could do except plan to make war on the horde of monsters that marched inexorably closer. This Cordell and his new army had spent the last week doing.
His new soldiers accepted his command enthusiastically, and quickly began preparations for the battle that Don Vaez hadn’t believed was possible. That captain now languished
*.he same cell that had held Cordell. Though the captain-general fully intended to free his rival when they both returned to Amn, he had no intention of doing so prematurely. Fortunately even Don Vaez’s most loyal officers had proved remarkably willing to accept Cordell’s leadership- Now they toiled in the service of their new commander with more diligence and military bearing than ever they had given the old.
Cordell had reviewed the men, finding that he commanded a well-balanced force, though several of the companies had had little experience in actual battle. Others, however, consisted of mercenaries who had served him before-men such as the guard, Millston-and these men he knew he could trust implicitly.
The harquebuses were weapons that Cordell had never before utilized. Still, when the men provided a demonstration of the loud, smoke-spewing weapons, he felt that they might prove useful in delaying or arresting an enemy charge. He was dismayed, however, with the long time required before the weapons could be readied for a second volley. In actual battle, it seemed that the harquebusiers would be likely to gel off one shot, then would have to fall back or rely on their short swords to keep them alive.
Finally, the captain-general was pleased to discover that the merchants had sent a team of young magic-users to aid in Don Vaez’s expedition. Two dozen in number, they would prove very useful, he felt certain. Though none of them even began to approach the power of his own onetime ally and lover, the elf-mage Darien, the power of even minor spells could sometimes prove decisive.
The twenty-five carracks, of course, remained at sea on their mission. Privately, now, Cordell had come to doubt whether they could reach the Sea of Azul, pick up the remaining legionnaires and the Kultakan warriors, and return in time to make a difference.
He would have to stand with the forces that he had. Even with the addition of Don Vaez’s men and the archers of Far Payit, plus the desert dwarves and the halflings, he had fewer than four thousand men. He would gain perhaps an
equal number of spearmen from the Pay it city of Ulatos, but this still seemed like a small force whim facing an army of thirty thousand savage ores and their even more powerful masters.
Cordell looked back to the city, its pyramids standing out proudly above the savannah. He thought of the woman nearly bursting with her child, who slumbered comatose there.
“Wake up, Erix,” Cordell whispered softly. It was very close to a prayer.
The Lord of the Jaguars roamed restlessly his belly growling with the hunger that had been his constant companion for all the weeks since he had fled the village of the Little People. Curse that foul human and his sorcery! The cat snarled at the memory of that horrible night.
The growling predator remembered his life among the halflings with fondness. Food had not been plentiful, for it was only rarely that they caught one of the Big People, but they had thrown him wild game during times when there were no captives. Never had he had to work for his meals Instead, he could sleep for days on end, which was truly the way the Lord of the Jaguars preferred to spend his time.