Ironhelm

THE SHRINE OF QOTAL

Cordell looked up quickly, disturbed by the undisciplined shouts suddenly drifting in from the beach pickets. He knew his guards, posted along the fringe of jungle at the base of the bluff, would not yield themselves to such an outburst without cause.

"Domincus, Darien!" He called his chief lieutenants to his side, and the trio trotted rapidly through the grassy sand. Darkness hid the nearby bluff and its gigantic stone faces, but Cordell knew the voices came from the base of the precipice, near the main trail toward the pyramid at the top.

The Bishou rushed ahead of Cordell, his face drawn and haggard. "Almighty Helm, I depend upon your mercy!" chanted the cleric. The captain-general, too, feared the news from the scouts, though for more pragmatic reasons than the Bishou. Had he lost the use of Halloran as a captain? It was a possibility that needed to be faced.

A single word caught his ear as he approached: "attacked."

Cordell reached the picket to find two swordsmen supporting a third. The latter gasped for breath. His skin" was torn in many places, and blood covered his body. Cordell recognized him as Grabert, a reliable veteran.

"Martine!" roared the Bishou before Cordell could speak. "What happened to my daughter — tell me, man!"

"Where's Daggrande!" demanded Cordell, ignoring the Bishou's glower. The bleeding man stiffened at his commander's voice, doing his best to stand like a legionnaire as he reported.

"Daggrande and Halloran are gone, sir. It was sorcery! A bright circle, a ring that floated in the air, settled down around them. Then they disappeared, together with a couple of the savages."

The man dropped his eyes, avoiding the Bishou's gaze. "I'm afraid, sir… that is, I heard Halloran say that the savages killed Martine. On top of that pyramid, I think."

The Bishou bellowed his grief until his voice faded to a strangled gasp. He slumped to his knees, turning his face to the heavens. Shaking his fists at the sky, he roared his rage so savagely that the men around him stepped back several paces. "The curses of Helm fall upon your heads! May your ignorance be obliterated by the strike of his almighty hand!" For a moment, the cleric paused, and then he rose to his feet, his wild gaze meeting Cordells.

"You must send the legion against them! We will wipe them from the face of the earth!"

The captain-general's eyes flashed darkly, but the Bishou was too blind to see the warning there. "The legion performs at my command," Cordell said softly. "But you should know that we always destroy our enemies. I will not let this attack go unavenged."

By this time, perhaps ten legionnaires had stumbled down the stairway from the top of the bluff. Many of the troops on the beach had also gathered as Grabert finished his report. The Bishou moaned as Grabert told of Hal and Martine's capture, and Daggrande's pursuit.

"Then hundreds of 'em attacked, sir, coming out of the jungle with spears and clubs. We were completely surrounded. Daggrande got us into square, but too many men had fallen."

"And how did you escape — you and these other men?" The question came from a black-robed figure beside Cordell. Darien had remained unnoticed until now.

Grabert stiffened at the question, but he did not meet the wizard's eyes. "When that ring appeared, the one that snatched Daggrande and Halloran, the savages fell on their faces, like they were frightened or maybe awestruck. And we ran for the bluff, those of us lucky enough to still be alive." Cordell looked at the elf woman at his side, and she nodded in understanding.

"I will return soon," Darien said softly. No one saw her gesture or heard the words to any spell. But all of those gathered saw her disappear from sight, instantly invisible. They knew she went to observe the legion's newest enemies.

Halforan felt the ground drop away, and then a ring of swirling color surrounded him. His hands flailed madly, seeking a handhold as he fell. He felt the squirming body of the young woman beside him. A tugging at his waist told him that Daggrande, too, held on.

Dimly he realized that he wasn't really falling. He felt weightless, but there was no rush of wind, no sense of motion. He tried to look around, but all he saw was the ring of color, expanding into an all-encompassing kaleidoscope.

And then solid ground once again materialized under his feet. The colors faded to a milky glow, and he saw that he had somehow arrived inside a stone building. The native girl had clung to his arm during the mystifying journey, but now she pushed away from him and stared, panic-stricken, around the chamber.

They occupied a circular room, perhaps ten paces across, with walls made of carved stone blocks. An opening on one side displayed a series of stone stairs leading upward into darkness. Above and beyond the opening, the faint twinkling of starlight illuminated the night sky.

"Helm's curses on this sorcery!" Daggrande had fallen upon landing and now sputtered angrily as he climbed to his feet. His hands clenched his bloody axe menacingly.

Hal saw the fourth person, the older man in the white robe who had tried to seize the girl. He alone seemed calm. Indeed, Hal watched in amazement as he knelt and bowed toward an image at one side of the room, opposite the doorway. The man's long gray hair, tied in a single knot, fell to the floor as he bowed.

"Qotal!" gasped the girl, stepping away from the image. Erixitl, too, recognized the image of the god, with its fanged jaws and encircling mane of feathers. She saw with sudden and startling clarity the truth of what Chitikas had spoken of earlier: that the faith of Qotal had lurked in the background of her entire life. Both her father and the Kultaka noble Huakal had worshiped the Feathered One, albeit quietly and privately. Kachin, cleric of Qotal, had purchased her for an exorbitant price in the name of that temple. She was the object of great attention from Chitikas, a feathered snake made almost in the image of the Plumed Serpent form of the god.

She looked with new eyes at the benign cleric, saw him regarding her with an expression of cherubic innocence. His face, lined with wrinkles as it was, beamed with a quiet smile for Erixitl alone.

Many questions suddenly rose within her. Why did the gods place such value on her life… or her death? What had compelled the followers of Qotal to manipulate her across the breadth of the True World? To make her a slave? Or a priestess?

And now Chitikas had brought her to this shrine, the sacred place dedicated to Qotal, at the close of this tumultuous day.

She looked at the fanged, grinning stone image of the Plumed God, and then at the serpentine form of Chitikas, covered as he was in downy feathers, and she wondered.

Halloran faced the garish stone image carved into the wall of the round chamber. He saw the face of a serpent, with gaping jaws and a wide mane surrounding the head. The mane, Hal saw after a moment, depicted a wide collar of feathers.

Suddenly he looked upward, wondering at the pale glow. He saw the long snake's body whirling through the air, beating its brilliant wings easily. The snake's body itself was the source of the illumination! His sword hand started upward with a will of its own until he forced himself to lower the blade. He felt certain that nothing good could come of attacking this glowing serpent, at least not yet.

"Who are you?" he demanded. "What do you want?" As soon as he challenged the thing, it slowly settled to the floor, resting on its long tail while most of the body floated gracefully before him.

"Better to ask you, stranger. What do you want?" The voice hissed in his mind, though the creature had made no sound. Awestruck, Halloran stepped backward, realizing that the beast's powers dwarfed his own mortal abilities.

The girl spoke, her voice smooth and quick. He could not understand her words, but suddenly the meaning entered his mind.

"Chitikas! Why have you brought us here? Who are these men?"

The serpent, Hal realized, not only communicated its own thoughts to him, but it also translated and passed along the words of the native girl.

"I don't like this," growled Daggrande, his voice a coarse whisper. "Let's get out of here!"

"We must stay here and listen." The white-robed man rose to his feet and turned toward Daggrande and Halloran. He, too, spoke his own language for telepathic translation. "The couatl is the sign of ultimate good, disciple of Qotal himself. I, Kachin, priest of Qotal, beseech you to listen."

The cleric nodded at the carved visage, and Hal understood that the serpentine face, with its mane of feathers, depicted this god, Qotal.

"Priest?" spat the legionnaire. "A priest such as the one who tore the heart from a defenseless woman? What kind of priest is that? What kind of god is that?" Halloran trembled with rage as the memory of that event came back to him in all its horror.

Kachin sighed. "No, not such a priest, though you have seen this face of the gods of Maztica."

"What possessed that monster? Why was she killed?" Halloran demanded.

"The tale is unpleasant, and complicated. That cleric is a patriarch of Zaltec, god of war — and night, and death, and other incidental things, but mainly war." Kachin spoke quickly, his words becoming thoughts in Hal's mind with equal speed.

"Across the land of Maztica are many who worship Zaltec, and all of them seek hearts to feed to their god. The priests take these hearts, usually at sunrise or sunset, in great numbers."

"That's barbaric!" snarled Halloran, appalled. "What kind of a god would demand such a thing? And what kind of people would obey?"

"Do not make judgments too sweeping," urged Kachin. "Though the creed of Zaltec spreads far across the land, here in Payit are many who hearken to the call of Qotal."

Erix spoke suddenly, surprising both Kachin and Hal. "Qotal is the source of pluma, the feathermagic that broke your bonds," she told Hal. "A god who thrives on life and beauty, not blood."

The girl turned and explained many things to the cleric. The serpent did not translate her words, but Hal understood the basic message: She had fled from the priest who killed Martine and had been captured by Daggrande's men.

"All right," Hal growled, interrupting her. "We'll stay here and listen, as you suggest. But I want some explanations!"

"I don't like this," grumbled Daggrande softly, but he remained beside his comrade.

"Remember, stranger? hissed the serpent, "I could have left you to die at the pyramid. There was no escape for you there" Halloran winced at the power, and the underlying sense of menace, in the message thrumming into his brain. For a moment, he wondered if the snake intended to attack him.

At the same time, Halloran realized that the creature spoke the truth. The battle at the pyramid had been lost. He thought of the legionnaires of Daggrande's detachment, all of them probably dead now. How many times this day must he stand helpless as companions died?

"I have told you that I am Kachin," said the rotund priest, suddenly nodding. His words were translated even as the snake held its unblinking gaze upon Halloran. "And this is Erixitl."

Hal nodded curtly, still staring at the snake. Abruptly a wave of power knocked him backward. Something had struck his mind, a blow that was not physical but nonetheless stunning.

"Speak!" commanded the serpent. "Do you strangers have no manners? Speak your names."

Hal bit back a sharp reply and nodded stiffly. "I am Captain Halloran. My companion is Captain Daggrande."

"And I am Chitikas Couatl, devoted servant of Qotal, and the one who has just saved your Lives" The serpent undulated through the room. Slowly the golden glow emanating from its body faded until the chamber disappeared into darkness.

"You humans complain about the most ridiculous things! You don't understand things that should be obvious to an infant!" The voice was a menacing growl in their minds.

"The True World stands at the brink of disaster. Evil threatens life upon all sides, from all directions. And you bicker proudly about your might and your fierceness!

"It is in your power to do things, to act against this blanketing scourge. You, Captain Halloran, face a quandary. You are not an evil man, yet great evils shall be asked of you.

"Only you, Erixitl, once of Palul, have touched the spirit of Our Esteemed Father!' The creature directed its gaze to Erixitl, and all four humans could feel the focus of its attention change, even in the inky darkness of the chamber. "And even you have been reluctant, not showing gratitude proper for one who owes so much.

"So I will leave all of you to think upon my words. Only when the true blossom of understanding shrouds you can the will of the Feathered One become life.

"But still, for the spirit you have shown me, however briefly — the serpent again hissed softly to Erix — "I will give you a gift… a gift of learning"

They all felt a brief pulse of power, something that seemed to twist the air in the cavern and then vanish. "Sorcery!" grunted Daggrande.

"It is sorcery in truth, short man," said Erix. The three males gaped at her in awe, for the words were carefully pronounced in stilted Commonspeech, the language of Waterdeep and the Realms.

"How is it you speak the words of the strangers?" gasped Kachin.

"This is the gift of Chitikas Couatl," replied Erix in amazement. She spoke in Payit, then turned and repeated the words in Common.

"Where'd Twisty go, anyhow?" grunted Daggrande, the first to notice that the snake seemed to be gone.

"You should show Chitikas more respect," Erix chided Daggrande gently, then turned to look at Halloran with that frank curiosity that he found so unsettling.

Halloran returned her stare, half in challenge and half in confusion. Even in the darkness, her luminous eyes were visible, studying him with bold intelligence and a hint of reproach. He wanted to rage at this savage woman and her companion, wanted to curse them for their obscene god. But even so, he remembered her act of kindness, when she had used her feathered necklace to free him from his bonds.

"Why did you free me?" Hal asked slowly. He pulled the snakeskin from his belt and held it toward her. "This held fast against our sharpest steel."

"I do not know what 'steel' is, but the — " Erix paused and searched for a word in her new language — " the hishna, the magic of scale and claw and fang, stands in opposition to pluma, the magic of feathers and air. I freed you because my necklace of pluma gives me power over hishna"

Erix pondered for a moment, puzzled. "I do not truly know why I chose to use this power to come to your aid. You are certainly the most frightening men I have ever seen. And in truth, you smell as though you have not bathed in many days.

"Chitikas told me to help you, but I did not want to. It was only when the Payit attacked that I desired you to have a chance to at least fight for your life."

"Thank you" said Halloran, as puzzled as Erix by her decision.

Daggrande had walked over to the doorway and looked at the sky. Now he turned back with a more practical concern.

"Does anyone know where we are?"

Spirali sat cross-legged upon the altar. The heart that had been torn from Martine lay beside him, cold and still. The Ancient One slowly worked his magic, seeking through the night the power that would tell him where his enemy had gone.

The appearance of the couatl had surprised and angered Spirali. Not one of the creatures had been detected in over two centuries, and Spirali's dark-dwelling leaders had pronounced them extinct. They would be displeased by Spirali's report.

But they would be very pleased with Spirali if he could announce that the beast was dead, presumably extinct again. So now he sought the deep emanations of power that would tell him where the couatl had gone. And even if the serpent escaped him, the Ancient One might learn where the girl had gone as well.

Spirali stiffened almost imperceptibly. There! In another instant, he disappeared.

His journey through the spaceless and timeless void that had been the couatl's pathway was instantaneous. Spirali arrived among a grove of flowers in a jungle clearing. He sensed that dawn was near, and this increased his urgency.

A dark stone doorway marked a vine-shrouded temple before him. Spirali closed his eyes, but the concentrated emanations of the couatl were no longer present.

Nevertheless, he heard voices coming from the temple. One of them he recognized as Erixitl's.

"The bluff teems with warriors — at least a thousand, with more emerging from the jungle every minute." Darien explained her observations to Cordell and the Bishou. They didn't question how she gained the information, both knowing that the elf woman could become invisibile, levitate or fly, assume the shape of an animal or monster, and employ other magical abilities as she needed. Her methods could not be questioned, and her results were invaluable.

"We must attack these pagan savages, now!" Bishou Domincus railed at the sky, shaking his fist at the enemy unseen in the darkness above.

"I'm ready to lead an attack," growled Alvarro eagerly. "We'll spit the devils on our swords!" The gap-toothed redhead had willingly echoed the cleric's cry for battle, and now they pressed an all-out attack.

"Be silent!" Cordell's tight voice instantly quelled their ranting. The commander continued, his voice low and tense.

"Think of our tactical position! We stand at the foot of a bluff. By Helm, they could use rocks as weapons!" Fury and frustration strained Cordell's voice. They hold the high ground!"

"This bluff seems to mark only this headland," interjected Darien. "To the west, the land drops off quickly." Cordell raised his eyebrows. "You have been busy tonight, my dear."

The elf shrugged, her pale eyes veiled. "I sought some sign of Daggrande or Halloran. Unfortunately, I saw nothing to indicate where they might have been taken by this glowing ring,"

"Very well. They were good legionnaires, but we have to assume they are gone."

"Hiding!" snorted the Bishou. "The young man avoids facing me, shirking the responsibility for his criminal carelessness!"

Cordell sighed softly but did not reply to the Bishou's threat. There will be time enough for that should we ever see Hal again, he thought. "We shall sail along the coast, find a shore, and land, as the vigilant eye of Helm is my witness!"

Cordell looked into the Bishou's moist eyes. The captain-general's determination was a black fire burning in his heart as he vowed, "And there, in the open, the legion will await the savages. I assure you, my friend, that your daughter will be avenged!"

"This is the Forgotten Shrine," explained Kachin for Erixitl's translation. "We are east of the mayzfields, within sight of the Flowered Temple of Ulatos."

Erix explained for the benefit of the strangers. "Ulatos is the great city of the Payit, not far from your landing point. Your ships lie a march of perhaps two hours to the east." The translations of distance and time came easily to her. She realized that in both areas, the language of the strangers was far more precise than her own. Obviously they were a people who liked to measure things.

"Why did that priest kill Martine? Why did he choose her for his sacrifice?" The memory of the gory ritual burned in Halloran's mind like a nightmare that would not go away.

"The priest was mad," explained Erix. "He thought the woman was me." Maddened by Chitikas, she added to herself.

"You mean this war was started by a bewitched cleric?" howled Daggrande. "I might have known!"

But Halloran was thinking about her answer. "Why does he want to kill you?"

"I… don't know." The sight of her eyes left him absolutely convinced that she told the truth.

"Come, Erix" urged Kachin, in Payit. "Let us hasten to Ulatos. We should leave the presence of these strangers."

"But what about the danger in Ulatos?" Erix vividly remembered her abduction from the temple.

"I will see to your safety personally. The sanctity of the Silent Counselor's grounds shall not again be violated."

Erix turned back to the two legionnaires. "You will find yourself on the shore as we emerge from this shrine. Your friends lie to the east. Kachin and I return to our city, to the west." She started toward the door, then stopped and looked back at Halloran.

"May your journey pass in peace."

Halloran looked at the woman again. She seemed so much older than Martine, or himself, for that mailer. He suspected that she had not yet seen twenty years, yet she carried herself with a maturily and grace that fascinated him almost to the point of awe.

Yet Martine's terror-stricken face appeared in his memory again. He had failed his responsibility to her! She had been killed because a mad priest took her to be this woman in front of him. Perhaps that should make him angry at Erix, but instead it only made him more curious.

"I hope that we meet again," he said, bowing.

Halloran preceded the others up the stairway leading out of the shrine. The twilight of approaching dawn filtered dim light through the foliage around them, and he saw a wide beach through the trees.

Erix followed him out of the shrine, then paused to look at him one last time. Kachin followed her, stopping in the doorway.

Suddenly the cleric's eyes widened. He sprang forward, pushing Erix roughly to the side. The black arrow intended for her heart lodged instead in the cleric's rib cage. Kachin gasped in deep pain and dropped to the ground.

Daggrande raised his crossbow, quickly sighting on the dark blur he thought he saw among the foliage. The black shape rolled to the side, evading his missile but revealing its presence by the movement.

Halloran charged the manlike figure, his silver longsword seeking flesh before him. Even though dawn's light had come as a rosy hue in the east, he could see nothing of his opponent but whirling shadow. Then he caught the dull glint of cold sleel.

Helmstooth clashed against another metal sword. The enemy's blade was black, but rang like true steel. Again and again the weapons met, silver and black. Sometimes sparks flared from the violence of the contact. The fighters dodged and ducked among the trees, hacking into trunks and through branches in their desperate attacks and parries.

Hal guessed his opponent to be of human size, perhaps a little smaller but possessed of a supple, wiry strength. He noticed that the swordsman was cloaked entirely in black, including his gloves, boots, and a silken mask. More importantly, the dark one's skill with the blade matched the best swordsmen he had ever seen.

With savage, silent violence, the dark figure rushed Hal, slicing his face and narrowly missing his bowels. Then the legionnaire kicked the wiry form away and stabbed once, twice, again, each time missing by a mere inch.

Halloran attacked and parried with all the skill in his arm and his brain. The dark figure seemed to flow away from his shining blade, deftly swirling beyond the point, and then the razor-edged return thrust whistled past Halloran as he used all of his speed to avoid sudden death.

Daggrande cocked his crossbow and aimed, but he could not get a clear shot into the melee. Even as red dawn blossomed to pink, as flowers and insects became visible among the fronds, the mysterious attacker remained shrouded in shadowy darkness. His garments, if such they were, seemed to float around him like a cloud of smoke, obscuring his limbs but in no way impairing his movement.

The fighter pressed Halloran back again, the blows coming more swiftly than ever. The legionnaire parried and retreated. Slowly he felt himself losing the fight. His arm felt like a leaden weight, and his brain began to struggle against fatigue. Still the dark stranger attacked, with no sign of strain or exhaustion. Dawn's pale illumination began to brighten the clearing around them, and Halloran fought for his life.

Then suddenly the black form darted away from him, rolling into the foliage. Like smoke, his shape seemed to dissipate. Hal lunged forward recklessly, his longsword lancing out toward his opponent's suspected location.

But his strike met only succulent greenery. He hacked at the fronds, but there was nothing there. As the first rays of the sun flickered across the treetops above them, Halloran and his companions realized that the attacker was gone.

On the ground, Kachin coughed, the pink froth of his life-blood trickling through his lips.

Dawn showed the great wings spreading across the water. Gultec, atop the pyramid with Caxal, the Revered Counselor of Ulatos, and Lok, chief of the Eagle Warriors, watched the white shapes unfold like the blossoms of a day-flower opening to the sun.

The Jaguar Knight felt a terrible unease as he watched. Oddly, he missed the presence of Kachin. That cleric, among all the men he knew, seemed capable of offering wisdom and sound guidance in this hour of dire danger.

And Gultec did not underestimate the danger posed by these strangers. Nearly two hundred of his warriors had been slain in short minutes of combat, a horrifying death toll even to the veteran campaigner. At the same time, only ten of the strangers had been killed.

Gultec felt certain that the other strangers at the pyramid would have perished, except for the appearance of the couatl. But at what cost to his own troops?

A sense of menace grew in his mind, and suddenly he spoke to Caxal and Lok. "We must send the warriors back to the city… quickly!"

"The city?" Caxal looked at him suspiciously. "But the strangers are here now!"

"I think they will fly soon. See how they spread their wings? The army of Ulatos is here, and the city lies undefended."

"No!" Caxal barked. Lok, the Eagle chief, started to speak but closed his mouth in the face of the counselor's glare. Caxal squinted, studying the great water creatures — he could not think of them as boats — and trying to control the fear raging in his breast.

Gultec turned away from the counselor, his temper flaring. Normally, in such a state, he would have stalked away. But this day, these occurrences, seemed so momentous to the Jaguar Knight that such ordinary concerns of pride faded to insignificance.

The white wings did indeed fly. "See how their beats stir the wave tops," Lok said, pointing. They all watched the white wakes foaming behind each hull as the strangers rode their water creatures around the reef. They followed the coast toward the west, in the direction of Ulatos.

Caxal watched the flight of the strangers in a stupor. This was the first he had seen of their might, and awe filled his body with numbness. Suddenly he shook his head.

"We must race to Ulatos," he declared, oblivious of his two war chieftains, who looked at him in scorn, "to defend the city against the invaders!"

From the chronicle of Colon:

Now our destiny has only to be born.

The Eagles continue to report to Naltecona. He hears the news of their departure with joy. He smiles and relaxes and beckons to his priests and nobles.

"See? The strangers leave us. They are no threat, surely not the cause of ten years of portents." He cheers himself, but no one else, with the heartiness of his words.

Then more Eagles fly to the palace of Nexal, and the Revered Counselor hears of the strangers' approach to Ulatos. For a time, Naltecona is despondent, and then again the smile of understanding crosses his features.

But now he understands things that no one else can see. "It is their folly to go to Ulatos, for that is the heart of the Payit lands," he assures his attendants. "Surely the Jaguars and Eagles of the Payit will rally to destroy them," he explains to the nobles.

And indeed the warriors of the Payit gather, many thousandmen of the city and the surrounding towns. More warriors arrive daily from Payit lands deeper in the jungle, mysterious regions unknown even to Nexal.

But only Naltecona believes they may solve his dilemma.