His decision is based on two points. Each is simple, and each is so deeply ingrained in Naltecona's mind that none can offer the slightest voice of dissent, save upon penalty of his life.
If the strangers are destroyed, they cannot be gods.
If the strangers destroy the Payit, Naltecona will know their godhood. Then will he prepare to welcome Qotal back to his ancestral throne.
Ulatos and Helmsport
FEATHERS AND STEEL
Emotion tightened Gultec's throat as he absorbed the spectacle. Never in memorable history had so many warriors of the Payit gathered in one place, for one campaign. The whistles and shouts, the crashing of weapons against shields, the pounding of feet against the ground, all created an aura so overpowering that the Jaguar Knight could do nothing but allow the sensations to wash over him.
The colors dazzled his eyes. The pennants and plumes and symbols and banners all floated magically. Many of the warriors danced as they passed him, and their tall feathered headdresses swayed like graceful birds. Jaguar Knights prowled among the companies, their spotted armor appearing clearly for a moment and then vanishing again in the whirl of color. Eagle Knights preened and strutted, proudly aloof from the activity around them.
The grandeur of the army overcame all of the chieftains standing on the housetop, and for several minutes, none of them spoke. There was little they could do, for the moment, in any event.
Gultec finally began to see the army, more than twenty thousand strong, in a more practical eye. He alone among the dozen or so chiefs here had fought the invaders already. Gultec felt that he alone possessed a satisfactory respect for their prowess.
But even he had trouble imagining the strangers, numbering perhaps half a thousand, standing against the array of force around him. Forty Payit would attack for every one of the strangers. Surely they would overwhelm and destroy the foe!
True, the attack would be made across the open plain by Caxal's order. Still, Gultec had managed to interject one measure of caution into the plan, if the men of Ulatos had the discipline to obey.
In the leading division of the army, marked clearly by banners of golden feathers, advanced three long columns, each a thousandmen of the city's own guard, men Gultec and Lok had trained for years. Now those men had been given a strange and difficult task.
Their Jaguar and Eagle chiefs had ordered these troops to advance toward the strangers, to make great noise and show, and then to swiftly withdraw when the strangers attacked. The command was exceptionally difficult because the warriors considered such a withdrawal insulting and unwarlike.
Gultec had done his best to insist upon the tactic, for he had placed thousands of slingers and bowmen behind this first rank. He had assuaged the insulted warriors' pride with the promise that, when the missiles had done their work, the men of Ulatos would be the first to meet the enemy in melee.
Now he could only wonder if they would have the discipline to obey.
"They come on quickly in the center, my general," announced the lookout. Cordell saw the advance plainly but did not admonish the man. Better to receive too much information during a battle than too little.
The captain-general had just joined the lookout atop the observation tower his men had constructed during the night. The sturdy square structure, thirty feet high, had been raised so that the general and his officers would have a good view of the flat battlefield.
Darien and the Bishou remained below, together with Cordell's signal officers and their clusters of flags. Now, as the haze lifted, he saw the surge of color opposite his center, like a wave of silk ribbons flickering across the ground.
Arrayed to meet them stood the sword-and- buckler men of Captain Garrant, protecting both flanks. Behind and between the swordsmen, Daggrande's crossbows stood in compact ranks. Other companies of swordsmen and longbows stood farther to each flank. But the five hundred men looked considerably overmatched by the mass of natives across the plain.
Hidden to the rear of the legion, near the base of the square tower, were Cordell's strongest weapons, or so he hoped. Gathered in four wings of ten or twelve riders each, the lancers remained hidden from the enemy in several ravines back from the shore. Each wing could charge into the fray within moments of receiving its order.
But the horses would stay hidden for now. Instead, Cordell would let the native warriors taste the cold death of the legion infantry.
The advance in the center became a charge, great blocks of spearmen and swordsmen each clearly marked by the colorful swath of its headdresses. The native army swept across the plain, thousands of men rushing Garrant's and Daggrande's companies amid a tremendous cacophony of sound.
"Signal the charge… for Garrant and Daggrande only. Now!" Cordell barked. In the next instant, two flagmen raised the pennants of these companies, selecting for each the banner with the bright yellow fringe.
"We'll see what these savages are made of," Cordell said, to no one in particular.
"It's the yellow flag, Captain!"
"Company, advance! On the double!" Daggrande bellowed the command without bothering to check the corporal's observation behind them. He had served with Cordell long enough to have expected the order.
He saw the swordsmen advancing to the right and left. He ordered a dozen men of his company to fall back to each side, providing missile protection for the outside flanks of Captain Garrant's company.
"Tighten up there!" he called as his ranks started to waver. Sergeants growled their way along the line, keeping the crossbowmen advancing in tightly packed straight lines, even at a steady jog. The dwarves, especially, huffed and panted to maintain the pace, but Daggrande knew they would not falter.
The swordsmen on their flanks also remained tightly packed as the natives howled closer and closer. Garrant's men suddenly broke into a run, hoarsely invoking the name of Helm as they charged.
And then, before the two groups could clash, the natives paused. We're breaking them already! Daggrande glimpsed a brief prospect of victory, but immediately discarded it in alarm.
The colorful horde slowed its rush, then stopped altogether, still a hundred paces or more away from the charging swordsmen. They continued to taunt and whistle and clash their weapons against their shields, even as they started to fall back. Then they quickly sprinted away from the armored swordsmen, but Daggrande sensed that these were not troops in terrified retreat.
Indeed, so did Captain Garrant.
"Halt!" Garrant bellowed to his companies as the spearmen drifted away. Most of the swordsmen finally ceased their charge, though a few still lumbered on.
"Stop, you idiots!" The captain finally collected his companies, forming again into tight ranks and falling slowly back around the crossbows.
Suddenly the plain around them swarmed with new troops, warriors who had been lying concealed in the tall grass while the legionnaires charged. These attackers quickly sent a shower of stone-tipped arrows soaring toward the companies. Other natives raced forward, swirling slings and sending heavy stones flying toward the invaders.
"Fire! Reload! Fire at will!" Daggrande bellowed his command and cracked off a bolt into the mass of archers before his troops. He bent to crank another shaft into the weapon as the enemy missiles began to fall.
"I'm hit!"
"Helm's curses, I'm down!"
Men cried out all around Daggrande. Arrows slashed into the legionnaires, but their armor stopped most of the stone heads from penetrating deeply. The stones from the slings were more painful, occasionally crushing a cheekbone or smashing an eye with a blow to the face.
Daggrande's men reloaded their weapons, ignoring the steady barrage of missiles showering around them, and fired another volley into the natives. While the arrows of the Payit inflicted painful wounds, the crossbows of the legionnaires cut a broad swath of death through the ranks of archers. The heavy steel bolts lanced through the quilted cotton armor as if it were not there. Sometimes a bolt passed clear through a victim to inflict further damage beyond.