“By Helm, look at the size of that thing!” Cordell gasped astonishment and dismay. He stood, with Daggrande an.
Grimes, atop the rampart of Helmsport, looking over the forest to the west and watching the steady, unhurried approach of the monstrous statue“ We’ll never be able to stand against it,” Grimes said matter-of-factly.
“Erixitl must get to that pyramid,” Daggrande added. “It’s the only hope we have. We might be able to hold out against the monsters, but you’re right, Grimes-there’s nothing we can do about the big fellow.”
“When did they leave?” Cordell asked.
“An hour ago, no more,” admitted the dwarf. “It’ll take them most of the afternoon to get there.” The giant form of the god, they knew, could cover the distance in a fraction of that time.
The great monolith marched to the edge of the forest, but then it paused. The trees of the jungle came only to its waist, and its gray, impassive eyes stared to the east, in apparent unconcern for the army that gathered on the savannah before it. The watchers could not see, but they sensed, the monstrous army gathering around the statue’s feet, spreading along the edge of the forest, staying within the concealment of the verdant canopy.
The giant remained impassive, still staring. If It suffered any impatience, no clue was visible across the craggy, granite features of its face. It no doubt knew that the true goal of its quest lay just a short distance beyond the bothersome humans arrayed before it, humans who were beneath the notice of one so magnificent, so unstoppable.
But still it waited.
Kardann collapsed into a sobbing, miserable heap. He had fled for days through this miserable forest, surviving on the few pieces of fruit he could find, cringing and fleeing at every sound. Finally he knew he had reached the end of his endurance.
For a full day, he lay still, certain at any moment that he was about to die. And, in fact, he began to wish for death as
the only conceivable release from the death by starvation that now seemed his inescapable destiny
Suddenly he heard a sound and sat instantly upright. Perhaps, he decided, he didn’t really want to die-not yet, in any event.
But what was that? He heard another noise and pictured the approach of some horrid beast, certainly about to tear him limb from limb.
Then he sagged back, almost crying out with relief. It wasn’t a horrid beast, for he heard a voice, an unmistakably human voice. He couldn’t recognize words, or even a language, but the deep and resonant tones could be nothing other that a man engaging in deep and serious conversation.
“Here! Here! Help me,” he cried, scrambling to his feet. “I’m over here!”
He would not have been disappointed to see Cordell himself coming toward him; at least the captain-general might reasonably be expected to provide him with a decent meal before hanging him!
“Please, come here!” he shouted again, climbing to his feet and pushing through the brush toward the source of the sound.
Then he stopped, dull horror creeping over his senses and freezing him in his place. He came to the source of the voice, but it was not a man in earnest conversation. Instead, he looked into a bestial face, with a mouth full of long, curving fangs. It was a mouth that, even as Kardann watched, slowly spread into a wide, horrifying grin.
“Hello,” said the great cat, in its soft, well-modulated tones. “I am the Lord of the Jaguars, and you are mine.”
From the chronicles of Colon:
In the certain approach of the Plumed Grandfather. We leave Ulatos knowing that, shortly behind us, the horde of the Viperhand will reach the city of the Payit. A city of long-lasting peace, it will see its second war within the year. The faithful warriors who have accompanied us here will try to buy us the time to work a miracle.
But if anyone can do so, I suspect it will be this black-haired woman who bears the child of two peoples. She is truly the Chosen One of Qotal, and her goodness is manifest. She may yet open the gate to the ‘s passage.
The menace looms behind us in the monsters of Zaltec. The unknown lurks ahead, an encloaking darkness that beckons and yet dissuades. 1 pray that we, that Erixitl, has the power to shed that darkness.
20
The beasts of the Viperhand, guided by the battle-hungry Hoxitl, waited for nightfall to launch their attack, allowing time for the entire monstrous army to gather at the edge of the savannah. The great regiments pushed forward along the coastal trail, and the column gradually expanded into a vast front within the protective jungle.
Cordell, conversely, had been forced to prepare for an assault as soon as the horde reached the fringe of the savannah surrounding Ulatos at noon. His men stood under the blazing Maztican sun throughout the day, ready for battle. But as the hours of afternoon passed into twilight, the battle did not come.
At least, the captain-general realized, they were spared the damage that could have been inflicted by the monstrous image of Zaltec. The stone colossus stood there throughout the waning afternoon, staring above and beyond the savannah and the armies that gathered around its feet. It was as if the humans were too pathetic, too unworthy even of his notice for Zaltec to take the trouble of wiping them out.
Finally, before dusk, the giant stepped onto the savannah, scattering the desert dwarves of Luskag’s tribe, for those unfortunate warriors stood in the god’s direct path. Fortunately the nimble dwarves all raced out of the way of the monstrous footsteps, and Zaltec continued marching steadily to the east.
Cordell, along with the rest of the army, watched him go and felt an unmistakable sense of relief. Still, some of them, including the captain-general, knew that the battle to be fought at Twin Visages was at least as important to their future as the one about to occur here.
The latter, however, was Cordell’s only concern now His troops were in position, though they seemed a pathetically frail line to stem the tide that they knew lurked in the nearby jungle. Desert dwarves, carrying their sharpened weapons of plumastone; tough, veteran spearmen from Tulom-Itzi; halflings armed with shortbows, tipped with the paralytic poison, kurari; an assortment of mercenaries with crossbow, harquebus, sword and buckler, a hundred cavalry; it seemed an oddly diverse core to an army
lb these numerous formations, the city of Ulatos and the lands of the Payit had added seven thousand additional warriors, a total that had pleased and surprised the captain-general. A year ago, the bulk of the Payit army had accompanied Cordell on his disastrous march to Nexal. Though not so accomplished in war as other nations of the True World, the Payits were brave and loyal fighters. Thus, when the one who had conquered them had ordered them to join his ranks, they had done so willingly and without question.
The Payits had made the march with the Golden Legion, participating in Cordell’s successful battle to subdue the Kultakans. That conquered state had then become the captain-general’s ally as well, and a source of great reinforcements in his march on the great city of Nexal. The Pay-its, Kultakans, and legionnaires had all entered the city and taken up residence in its central plaza.
Unlike the Kultakans, however, the Payits hadn’t been fortunate enough to fight their way free of the dying city on the Night of Wailing. They had perished there almost to a man. Now the city of Ulatos and the surrounding countryside had precious few warriors with which to defend themselves.
The defenders’ position stood anchored on the sea, in the strong block of Helmsport. Here one of Don Vaez’s former officers, newly sworn to the service of Cordell, commanded legionnaires-a hundred crossbow and a hundred sword. The fort would provide a refuge for much of the force if the line broke. Here also the commander had posted many of the young magic-users who had come with Don Vaez’s force, the rest of the spell-casters being scattered along the length of the line.