"Who else is up there?" grumbled the dwarf, unable to see as the human members of the legion pressed around.
"His lady Darien… the Bishou Domincus… I can see some official and a young lady beside the Bishou. She's beautiful!" Halloran caught his breath at the sight of the red-haired woman standing beside the tall cleric.
"Probably Bishou Domincus's daughter." Daggrande couldn't see, but he still had plenty of opinions. "I heard she was coming along with the expedition."
"Soldiers of the Golden Legion!" Cordell's voice rang through the square, and the low hum of conversation died instantly. "We embark in a few short hours upon a mission of grave peril. The dangers we face are unknown to us, but I know that every one of you will hold true to his courage and his faith. With the aid of our almighty protector, Helm, we shall triumph over all!
"As you know, our mission is funded by the good Council of Amn," continued the leader. "We have here the council's Grand Assessor, Kardann. He will accompany us on our mission and record the treasures we gain!" A throaty roar erupted from the men.
"In the name of Helm!" The Bishou's voice now rang over the hundreds of soldiers and sailors gathered in the plaza. "May our benefactor bless our swords, making sharp our steel. May he strengthen our arms, such that our blows will fall swift and deadly as we strike in his immortal name!
"May the vigilance of his eternal gaze warn us of treachery, making swift our vengeance against those who would betray us. And may the holy light of his ironclad brilliance guide us to lands of wealth and promise, opening the fabled riches of the East to our bold exploration!" Bishou Domincus lowered his voice, mumbling a silent prayer to Helm, the legion's patron god, before he again fixed the throng with his passionate blue eyes.
"Now let us join our voices in the anthem. Martine, please lead us…"
Halloran saw the woman whose beauty had so struck him step to the fore of the group on the platform. She raised her face to the heavens, and her clear, melodious voice led the men of the Golden Legion in their Anthem of War.
The song combined celebration of victory with grief for fallen companions. Its words spoke to the heart of every warrior present, and Halloran was not alone as he wept through the final chorus. He gripped his sword until his knuckles whitened, the glory of many conquests beckoning him. He stood enraptured as Martine at last ceased singing, then watched her turn with her father to stand at Cordell's side.
The Bishou and his daughter would sail with the general, he was certain, in the fleet's flagship, the Falcon. He wondered when he would see her again, certain that time would be too long in coming.
"Now to your ships!" Cordell cried, not loudly, but his voice rang through the square with the sheer force of command. The very sound of his voice filled Hal with energy and excitement.
"The tide falls away past midnight, and we ride to sea before the dawn, to the west, and into history!"
Erixitl's journey from Kultaka to Payit began strangely. Upon learning that her destination was distant Payit, she brooded about the prospects of a long, difficult march. Like everyone else, she knew little of the Payitlan people save that they were a race of rude barbarians with no culture. Of course, the cleric Kachin had seemed well-spoken and dignified enough, but anyone would expect a religious patriarch to display some education and manners. The people themselves, she suspected, were far more savage.
Thus she was astounded to find an elegant gown of softest cotton awaiting her on the morning of their departure. Sandals of snakeskin and a bright feather mantle for her shoulders completed the outfit, finer clothes than she had ever seen. Her astonishment was compounded when she emerged from the house of Huakal to find a pluma Utter, a luxurious bed of floating feathermagic, awaiting her. The pad was large enough to hold a reclining adult and hovered several feet above the ground. It was perhaps a handspan thick, and its surface consisted of a border of emerald quetzal feathers surrounding a mosaic pattern of wonderful, multicolored detail.
"But a slave, riding? Carried by pluma?" She could not help exclaiming her astonishment in the presence of Kachin, her new owner. She saw six other slaves, strong men, standing beside large bundles. She suspected they carried goods from Kultaka such as turquoise and obsidian, perhaps traded for tropical feathers or cocoa brought by the Payit cleric to Kultaka.
The cleric regarded her strangely. The gleam in his dark brown eyes frightened her, yet there was something vaguely paternal in the smile that slowly creased his wizened face.
"A slave no longer, Erixitl. Now you are a virgin priestess of the Payit, and as such you cannot be expected to walk."
"A priestess?" Erix's astonishment made her bold. "But I know little of your god!"
"Qotal is the god of us all, whether we know it or not," Kachin replied, smiling.
She shook her head, confused. "Even so, why does a young priestess ride while you, the high priest, walks? And why did you come all this way for me? Have you no virgins in Payit?" She bit her lip, suddenly regretting her stream of questions.
But Kachin only laughed. "You are special for many reasons, dear Erixitl. And those reasons will become clear to you in time."
"But…" Common sense overtook her arguments, and she bit her tongue before objecting. Still, she could not help wondering what sort of man this was. What kind of religion would sanction an arduous journey and the spending of valuable treasure to purchase a priestess? She sat upon the litter and it gave softly beneath her, conforming to her body as she raised her legs and reclined. Her body tingled with delight at the luxury.
Now, to the Coast Road!" Kachin barked. The expedition also included a trio of Payit warriors, wearing only loincloths. These dusky young men carried short spears tipped with jagged obsidian blades, very different from the two-handed obsidian swords, or macas, carried by Nexalan and Kultakan fighters. The warriors wore their thick black hair tied in a high knot on their heads, adorned with several long green feathers. Also, these jungle dwellers dressed far more lightly than Erix's own people, scorning the padded cotton tunic that commonly served as armor.
They departed Kultaka early in the morning as the dawn mist still cloaked the mountains around them. Men and women already toiled in the vast fields of mayz surrounding the city, but by the time the haze lifted, the small pyramids of the city had fallen behind them.
The litter bore Erix sitting upright, or allowed her to recline partially or completely, at her wish. She simply moved her body into the desired position and the soft, feathery cushion adjusted its own shape to hers. The ride was luxurious, but this very luxury caused Erix to feel self-conscious, not a little embarrassed as they passed slaves and farmers toiling in their poor fields.
Erix could not dispel a strange feeling of wistfulness. Even though she had been taken to Kultaka as a slave, her life there had not been unpleasant. Indeed, her memories of Kultaka could not help but be more vivid and meaningful than her childhood recollections of far-off Palul. Now she was leaving this land, and once again her path took her away from Nexal, Heart of the True World. Silently she vowed to return someday to her own land, to set her eyes upon the wonders of that city before she died. Yet even as she made the vow, she knew that she could no more choose to go to Nexal than could a piece of driftwood select the beach upon which it would land.