Ironhelm

ULATOS LAGOON

The cleric of Qotal gasped and wheezed, each breath coming shorter than the last as his lungs slowly filled with blood. Erixitl wept softly beside him, holding Kachin's hand in hers. The cleric forcefully stopped her when she tried to tend his wounds, shaking his head to indicate certain knowledge of his fate. This man suddenly meant a great deal to Erix, and the thought of his loss left her frightened and lonely.

Halloran stood awkwardly off to the side, while Daggrande looked fruitlessly for some indication of the dark attacker's nature or trail.

The shrine, Hal saw now, was a round, dome-shaped building in the rain forest. It was covered with vegetation and stood very near to the shore. He wondered how far they were from the fleet's anchorage. He did not allow himself to consider the possibility that the legion had moved on. Nothing Halloran could imagine seemed as frightening to him as the thought of being stranded here, never to see men of his own world again.

Erix moaned and leaned across Kachin's suddenly still body. Halloran looked away, realizing with surprise that this man's death saddened and angered him.

The attack had been cowardly, and the cleric had given his life to save a maiden, a clear statement of the relative merits of attacker and victim. But also this cleric had acted as a decent and reasonable man.

Indeed, Kachin had almost seemed civilized, Hal admitted. Too, he was discomfited by this unusual girl who had magically learned his language and who regarded him with those luminous eyes.

"Well, there's no sign of that thing, or person, or whatever it was," reported Daggrande. "Now let's get going back to the fleet."

"Wait!" Halloran suddenly felt reluctant to leave. He turned to the girl. "I'm sorry about your friend."

Again she disturbed him, this time with the extent of the pain he could see in her face. She studied him with a wounded innocence that finally forced him to turn away. "Will you help me bury him, please?" she asked softly.

"We have to go!" Daggrande objected. "Cordell might already have decided to move on!"

Halloran sighed and looked at his old friend. "You go ahead. I'll help her and catch up as soon as I can."

The dwarf looked at him incredulously for a moment but made no move to leave. "I never did think you had much in the way of a brain. But I'd best stay here and help you get the job done. Then" — and his voice dropped to an ominous growl — "we're going!"

Erixitl selected a spot beside the shrine of Qotal, the god Kachin had served all his adult life. The fringe of forest along the coast was lined with many rocks, for the beach here was more gravelly than it had been below Twin Visages. All three of them helped carry rocks to the burial site, then slowly built a mound over Kachin's body.

Erix worked steadily, ignoring the questions that began to grow in her mind. Where should I go? What should I do? Fiercely she forced those questions aside until the grave was completed. Finally the work was done, and all her uncertainties settled to the fore of her mind.

A small part of her wanted to return home, to Palul, to finally see Nexal, the great city she had never seen. She knew no one in Ulatos — indeed, in all Payit — and she had come here as a purchased slave. Erix understood that, though Kachin had called her a priestess, she did not have the training or background for such an exalted calling.

But if she was not a priestess, neither was she any longer a slave. She feared the forces of Zaltec, for they had attacked her more than once, yet it seemed that greater things had been set in motion by the arrival of these strangers. And those forces would threaten her everywhere in the True World, perhaps with even greater savagery near their highest temple in Nexal.

Too, there was the matter of Chitikas's gift to her. She was probably the only Maztican who could communicate with the strangers. They were indeed a frightening, even horrifying, lot. The prospects for peace between Halloran's people and her own looked very grim, especially after the melee at the pyramid. In her heart, she wondered whether war was inevitable.

Could her destiny, the destiny Chitikas had spoken of, involve the prevention of this conflict? She doubted whether this was possible, but at the same time she felt compelled to try to do something.

She would return to Ulatos. If the strangers sailed up the coast, this would be the first city they encountered. She would get there first and offer her abilities as a translator. Then she would do everything she could to prevent a war.

"Now I — we — must go." The man called Captain Halloran looked at her with a certain sadness in his face. Once again she bravely met his gaze. Indeed, he had begun to look less horrid than she had first thought. His pale blue fish eyes still unsettled her, and he, like all of these strangers, seemed surrounded by that unpleasant odor. Obviously bathing would be difficult on the strangers' great flying houses. No doubt they would resume normal human hygiene now that they had landed.

She looked up at his genuine smile, his tall, powerful form. He was the most magnificent warrior she had ever seen. True, Erix had never been one to be swayed by the prowess of a fighting man, but never before had a warrior saved her life. And every one of his acts seemed tempered with honor and decency.

"I will show you the way back to Twin Visages," she offered. They stepped from the verdure onto the gravelly coastline, and she turned to the right. "There, perhaps one or two hours from here."

"Where will you go?" asked Hal, looking at the long stretch of stone and jungle.

"I journey there." She pointed to the left. "To the city of Ulatos, heart of the Payit lands." She did not add her fears of war, nor her thoughts of prevention.

"I wish you a safe journey," he said, bowing. "Perhaps we will meet again."

She looked at him with humor. "I think perhaps we will!"

He did not understand, and she pointed past him. Daggrande groaned as they looked out to sea, and Halloran's heart sank. All of his fears came back. He was stranded on a distant shore!

Fifteen sets of sails jutted above the horizon. The legion sailed along the coast, headed in their direction. But the ships were too far from shore for the pair to have any chance of hailing them as they passed.

The wind cooperated splendidly, carrying the fleet seaward, beyond any shoals that might have lurked around the headland of Twin Visages. After they had safely passed from the lagoon into the deep sea, the breeze shifted, gently ushering the caravels and carracks along the luxuriant vista of this new shore.

Cordell watched the tangled jungle press forward to the sea, and he guessed that they passed a river delta. Indeed, dozens of canoes darted back and forth through the lush greenery, and he knew that the natives of this land observed them as they sailed westward.

"These are puzzling people," remarked the captain-general to Darien. The pair stood alone atop the raised afterdeck of the Falcon. The elf woman's hood was pulled completely over her head in order to protect her skin from the blazing afternoon sun. "In many ways savage, yet they show organization and considerable energy."

"I suspect our Bishou's notion of their godlessness is mistaken," said Darien.

"Whether they're led by gods or sorcerers, or both," vowed Cordell, "they will come to regret the impetuous attack on my men!"

After the delta, a line of hills rose from the river valley. In the shelter of these hills, almost as if the land extended an encircling and protective arm, the Golden Legion found its anchorage. The shore along the bay was smooth and grassy, with numerous villages and small temples scattered among the fields.

The canoes of the natives maintained a constant vigil as the caravels dropped anchor. Here longboats probed the shore, and soon the reports reached Falcon: The anchorage was deep, the shore firm and suitable for the debarkation of horses and men.

The Bishou climbed to the deck as Cordell gave the order to move the ships closer to shore. The cleric had grieved loudly over the death of his daughter, but now he approached the general with a quiet, grim look.

"Helm in his mercy has given me a sign," explained the Bishou abruptly.

"Indeed," answered Cordell cautiously.

"You need a commander for the lancers, since Halloran has disappeared." The Bishou glowered.

"Yes… I have had some thoughts on the matter."

Domincus shook his head. "Helm has shown me directly that he desires Captain Alvarro to take command."

Cordell tried to suppress a grimace. The Bishou often used 'visions from Helm' to urge the general to follow some course of action he knew was not entirely agreeable to Cordell. Naturally the commander needed to consider the opinions and suggestions of his spiritual adviser, and Domincus often took advantage of the fact.

"I was thinking of someone a bit older, more seasoned. Alvarro can be somewhat… impetuous," began the captain-general, but the Bishou interrupted.

"It must be Alvarro! I have seen this!"

Cordell did not want to antagonize his old comrade at this stage of his mourning, nor could he risk the demoralizing effect a public argument might have upon his legionnaires. He knew Alvarro to be a brave and dashing horseman, albeit a trifle rash. He had a reputation as the best swordsman in the legion. The general finally overcame his objections. "Very well. Captain Alvarro shall have command of the lancers."

"They gather their flying houses in the lagoon," explained Gultec. He breathed heavily, for he had just returned to Ulatos from a hurried reconnaisance.

"Excellent!" Caxal declared, beaming. The Revered Counselor had come more and more to relish the coming clash with the invaders, almost to the point of what Gultec considered rashness.

"Now you must take the warriors down the plain and await them above the shore. Allow them to land before you attack." Caxal gave his instructions quickly.

"Perhaps, my counselor, we should conceal a portion of our force in the trees along the delta," suggested Gultec. "I remember all too clearly the fighting prowess of these warriors. We would do well to hold some of our troops in reserve for a surprise attack."

Caxal fixed Gultec with a darkly suspicious look, the implications of which caused the Jaguar Knight's blood to boil. "Do you fear these warriors, Gultec?" The counselor's voice was smooth, unusually considerate, but the question was a mortal insult to a captain of Gultec's stature.

Once again all his emotions urged him to turn on his heel and leave the presence of the Revered Counselor. Yet thoughts of destiny, of the historical importance of this moment, held his rage in check.

"I will personally lead the warriors across the field," Gultec agreed stiffly. "We will meet the invaders at the shore."

The Bishou smoldered in his cabin as the fleet swung easily at anchor. In his rage, he had abandoned his slave on the shore below Twin Visages. He only spared her life after Cordell intervened on her behalf, reminding him that Helm's vengeance should be directed at those responsible for evil, not its innocent victims.

Now Cordell and Alvarro stood on the raised deck of the Falcon and observed with anticipation the flat plain beside the river delta. The jungle shore was gone here, replaced by golden fields of the tall, plump grain these natives tended. "Mayz," the islanders had called it.

"Yes, captain-general, I understand. I will command the horses well!" Alvarro beamed, his widely spaced teeth standing like scattered tombstones in a cemetery. The sun caused his red hair to blaze like firelight.

"And may I say, sir, that you will not regret your choice. That young fellow, Halloran, was simply too green to — "

"Enough!" snapped Cordell. "Go back to your ship. Be prepared to debark the horses after nightfall."

"Yes, sir!" Alvarro couldn't conceal his delight as he turned away. His eyes drifted idly over the verdant shore less than a mile away. Was Halloran still alive there? Alvarro belched, not really caring.

Darien joined Cordell as Alvarro stepped into the longboat beside the Falcon.

"See how that ridge of land encircles us here?" said the commander. "I think we've found ourselves a splendid anchorage!" All soundings indicated a good depth below them, even though their ships were anchored within a few hundred feet of shore.

"Look there." The general pointed to his elf woman. "Those are man-made structures rising above the trees."

Indeed, the pyramids of Ulatos were in plain view from their anchorage. The tangled swamps blocked the delta below the town, but less than a mile to the west beckoned a broad savannah of grass and mayz.

"The Bishou will be pleased," said Darien, with a sly, private smile.

"To be sure." Cordell paid her little attention. "Excellent. We will land the entire legion here. The savages will quickly learn the folly of attacking the Golden Legion."

"Let the war begin," whispered Darien, so softly that even her man did not hear.

Spirali rested inside the dark shrine of Qotal. He felt no sense of irony at taking shelter within a building devoted to the rival of Zaltec. In truth, Spirali felt little of anything.

The fight with the swordsman had exhausted him, but only daylight had forced him to teleport away from the battle. Even so, he was not certain he could have bested the human.

Indeed, these invaders were of a breed quite different from the natives of Maztica. Of course, he, like the other Ancient Ones, had long known of the lands across the sea, the lands referred to by their inhabitants as "the Forgotten Realms" or "The Sword Coast," or by other exotic names.

For many years, it had been the task of the Ancient Ones to prepare the land for the coming of these strangers, prepare it so that Zaltec would feed well and the Ancient Ones would grow strong.

Spirali regarded his problems coldly, dispassionately. Yet he nearly cursed when he thought of the girl escaping his arrow. That the missile had claimed the corpulent cleric was little satisfaction.

Now the hot sun blistered the world outside this stone building. Even the pale light spilling down the stairs burned his eyes and forced him to avert his gaze.

He could only wait until nightfall.

The white sails had remained visible against the horizon for several hours as Halloran and Daggrande, led by Erixitl, pressed westward along the shore. Eventually the fleet overtook them and continued on farther to the west, never coming closer to land.

The shoreline was mostly smooth beach backed by jungle, and they made good time. Along the way, they encountered several small groups of fishermen on the shore. These natives took one look at Halloran in his steel breastplate and blond hair or the grizzled visage of Daggrande scowling from beneath his heavy brows and quickly fled into the jungle or took to sea in their long canoes.

"I'd like to get my hands on one of those canoes," said Halloran as another trio of fishermen desperately paddled their slim craft through the surf, away from shore.

"Perhaps we can find one when we reach the delta," replied Erix. "I can take you that far before I turn toward Ulatos."

Late in the day, they saw the billowing canvas veer landward, and Hal's heart thrilled to the hope that the fleet would drop anchor and allow them to rejoin their companions. He tried, unsuccessfully, to bury the bleak sense of failure that would accompany his return. He felt, again, his guilt over Martine's loss. Somehow his shame seemed even more tarnished when he realized that he had been enjoying Erix's company for some time without a single thought of the Bishou's daughter. What kind of a man am I? he wondered.

"That is the delta, where the ships go now," explained the woman. She remembered descriptions of Ulatos she had heard from Kachin, complete with details and maps sketched on the ground. "I know there are many canoes — traders and fishermen and flower gatherers — working among the mangaroo groves."

The shorelands here were more open, and Daggrande clumped along ahead of the man and woman. Halloran saw large fields of the plump, rich vegetable they had sampled at every landing in Maztica. "I see you, too, make use of this 'mayz' plant," he observed to Erix as they passed a particularly lush field, separated from the beach by a row of palm trees and a narrow, straight canal.

"What place in the world could live without mayz?" asked Erix in bewilderment. "It is the food sent to man by the gods, brought by Qotal himself before he fought with his son Zaltec and was driven from Maztica."

Hal smiled. "We have grown to adulthood never knowing of mayz until the last few weeks. It is a wondrous plant, but unique to… 'Maztica'?" he pronounced tentatively, to her shy laughter.

"Maztica. Maztica meaning 'the True World.' But perhaps the world is a larger place than we have known." She turned and looked at him.

"Tell me, where is it you come from? Are there many humans there?" Erix had decided for herself, beyond any sense of doubt, that these visitors were men and not gods. Complex and interesting men to be sure, but as mortal as herself and her people.

"It is a place called the Forgotten Realms, from lands along the Sword Coast. My general is a great man, a man named Cordell, and he has led his legion here in search… " He suddenly let his words trail off. Their mission, the plundering of these people's gold and the conquest of their lands, suddenly seemed less righteous than before, now that he was here, face to face with Erix.

It had been a simple matter when the inhabitants of these lands had been faceless savages, rude barbarians. The legion's mission became even more just when the natives attacked him by surprise and then performed the shocking ritual of Martine's sacrifice.

But now he had seen the courage and kindness of these people as well. No legionnaire had ever died a braver death than had Kachin, stopping the arrow intended for Erix. And that young woman had shown herself to be wise and patient, even in the face of events that could easily have overwhelmed her.

Such thoughts, he reminded himself sharply, were disloyal, perhaps even treasonous. Roughly he forced them from his mind, replacing them with the vivid memory of Martine's brutal sacrifice, the chilling cruelty of the priest. Whether he had been mad or not, many others followed his orders with apparent willingness, so even in madness he had not been alone.

Nevertheless, Hal felt certain that there was more to these people than Bishou Domincus, or even Cordell, suspected. This was a complex issue, and Halloran disliked complex issues on principle. Unconsciously he scowled, then smiled at Erix's sudden expression of worry when she saw his face.

"My mind is wandering," he explained.

He saw that they approached a region of densely tangled vegetation extending far into the sea. Stretches of glassy water were visible, winding among the trees, which Erix called "mangaroo."

"See how the limbs entwine?" she said. "The mangaroo creates its own islands as it expands. There is the Ulatos delta. They say it is always growing, that islands creep farther into the ocean every day."

"We've got to find a canoe!" declared Hal, suddenly anxious to return to the fleet. She looked at him sharply, surprised by his sudden, rudely abrupt declaration, but then shrugged and led him onward.

A small dock marked the border of the mangaroo delta — it looked like a swamp to Halloran — and here they found several canoes left by the hurriedly fleeing natives. They selected a large dugout, made from a single log that had been hollowed by fire and patient chiseling.

"I will leave you here," said Erix quietly, disturbed and slightly frightened by the sudden tension in this tall man. "May you have a good journey to your great canoe, your 'ship.'"

Daggrande lowered himself into one of the wobbling boats as Hal turned to say farewell. He found his tongue frozen in his mouth. This native girl disturbed and intrigued him in a way that Martine never had. Halloran's conscience troubled him deeply as he realized that the legion's mission would almost certainly make them enemies.

"Thank you for all your kindnesses," he finally blurted. "I hope that we meet again, and that fate is kind to you until that day." Bowing awkwardly, he climbed into the stern of the canoe. He and Daggrande each took a paddle, and soon the nimble craft disappeared among the winding mangaroo groves, heading for the open sea.

Erix watched them sail away, fighting a powerful sadness growing in her heart. She would remember the pale, tall soldier, with his mighty prowess and his strange, burning sense of drive. Truly if the other strangers were his equals, the invaders were a powerful and deadly force, perhaps equal to the might of Nexal itself.

Suddenly she shuddered. Her thoughts had briefly touched on both the city of Nexal and these strangers. For a stark second, her brain had flashed with a vision of distant Nexal in ruins, black smoke shrouding the sky above her lakes.

In her imagination, these strangers were everywhere.

"Do not debark the horses until dark," ordered the captain-general. "We have seen no sign of mounted travel here. Perhaps they will provide an unpleasant surprise for the foe come tomorrow."

His captains were gathered before him on the deck of the Falcon, receiving their final instructions. Cordell had commanded that the legion debark before nightfall. The troops would bivouac on the shore, in full view of the native army.

The captain-general once again turned his eyes to the plain beside the delta, where thousands of warriors, under many dozens of colorful banners, pennants, and fans, gathered to await them. They remained perhaps a mile back from the beach, within easy striking distance.

Beyond the plain rose the high white buildings of the city. Particularly intriguing was the tallest pyramid, with its green gardens draping in elegant terraces down its broad sides. High atop the pyramid, a crystalline fountain shimmered and gleamed in the late afternoon sun.

"General, why should we not remain aboard the ship tonight and land the entire legion in the morning? We leave ourselves terribly exposed to night attack!" The speaker was Garrant, the captain commanding a company of sword-and-buckler men. He raised objections running through the minds of many of the men.

"We land tonight precisely to show them we are not afraid!" Cordell answered forcefully, but he clearly welcomed the question. His voice softened. "I know, Captain Garrant, that your men will bear the brunt of such an attack should it develop. I am gambling that it will not. I can afford the gamble because I know your company will protect the legion if I am wrong."

Pleased with the compliment, the captain nodded his understanding, if not his approval, of the plan.

"My lord general?" asked a plaintive voice. Cordell turned, gritting his teeth, to regard the weasel-faced accountant, Kardann.

"Yes?"

"The treasure, my lord! I beg you to consider the treasures we have already gained. We carry a small fortune in gold nuggets and crude ornaments from the islanders!" Kardann bobbed his head as he spoke, with frequent glances toward the shore.

"Should we not see that treasure safely out to sea?" he blurted. "Not held here, close to shore, where the savages could swarm out in their canoes and take it?"

Cordell looked at the assessor in astonishment. "It's preposterous to think they could claim even one of our ships by force! I'll have no more such talk!" The assessor's words may already have caused a distraction, he feared — at a time when he needed the entire concentration of his men directed toward the upcoming conflict.

Cordell half-turned toward the afterdeck, then changed his mind. Normally he would ask the Bishou to bestow Helm's blessing upon this undertaking, but Domincus still muttered and paced, staring intently landward. Cordell feared his address could do more harm than good. Get hold of yourself, man! he silently willed. I need you. The legion needs you!

"It's the deserters themselves!" howled Domincus, suddenly pointing to a small craft approaching the anchored flagship. Cordell and the captains stepped to the gunwale and saw a native canoe emerging from the nearby stands of delta trees. Halloran and Daggrande were plainly visible, alone in the boat.

"Bishou Domincus, we must talk," said Cordell quietly.

Even hushed, his voice had the strength of a steel rod. The captains stirred behind him, and the general knew that he needed to tread carefully between the vengeful cleric and the pragmatic needs of his men.

The Bishou glared at Cordell suspiciously, but he knew enough not to bluster loudly before the legionnaires. "Surely you don't mean to welcome them back!" he hissed in disbelief. "The young man was guilty of criminal cowardice in allowing my daughter to be slain. And both of them deserted our men in the face of enemy attack!" The cleric's voice grew shrill with his anger.

I cannot antagonize him now. I need him tomorrow. Cordell sighed, a heavy and obvious gesture. "Your daughter's death is a great tragedy, my friend. And to be sure, she had been entrusted to young Halloran's care at the time. This, then, must mark against him.

"But he is a skilled lancer, a natural horseman, and a brave soldier. And Daggrande is my best captain! You cannot claim both of these warriors on the eve of battle!"

"But the guards told us! They disappeared during — "

"They were snatched by sorcery! Even through your anger, you should recognize that!" The Bishou turned away sullenly as Cordell continued. "I will give you Halloran, in chains. After the battle, you can punish him as you deem fit. But Daggrande goes free, with no sanction from you. And you will not refer to either of these men as cowards, in my presence or in the presence of any member of the legion. Do I make myself clear?"

Obey me! The captain-general focused his will and his command upon the cleric. We need you, Bishou. But we need Daggrande, too.

"Very well," Domincus grunted. "I want Halloran clapped in irons and locked below. I will say nothing to the men. I have no need to punish the dwarf."

"Good." Cordell nodded, still annoyed that his lieutenant's vengeance would cost him a good officer. "Now let us see to the landing."

The Bishou joined the captains, and Cordell summoned his cabin boy. The lad listened carefully while his commander outlined the preparations to be made in fashioning a cell belowdecks for Halloran.

The golden eagle banner fluttered proudly atop the Falcon's mainmast. Halloran felt a surge of emotion as he approached that flag and the ship below it. Tears clouded his eyes, and he saluted the pennant as the canoe drew alongside the Falcon. Shame, too, threatened to overwhelm him. The tragedy of Martine's loss weighed heavily on his mind. He did not know what to expect when he boarded the flagship.

The carrack rode quietly on the placid lagoon, and Daggrande and he had no difficulty ascending the rope ladders dropped to them from the deck above.

Halloran stopped in shock as he stepped aboard the Falcon's deck. Without a word, four brawny sergeants seized him and clapped metal cuffs about his wrists and ankles.

Hal bit his tongue. He saw the glowering figure of Bishou Domincus beyond his guards and suspected the explanation. Perhaps he deserved no better treatment, he told himself.

"Here, now!" growled Daggrande, turning to defend his friend. But captain-general Cordell stepped up to him and raised a placating hand. The dwarf glowered suspiciously at his commander. Cordell's words struck Halloran with greater force than any physical blow could possibly deliver.

"Captain Halloran, you are charged with desertion in the face of the enemy. You will have a chance to speak in your own defense after the matters of tomorrow are resolved. Until then you are confined to a brig belowdecks of the Falcon"

Cordell looked Halloran squarely in the eyes as he spoke. The young man sought some hidden message there, some gleam of communication that would tell him that Cordell knew he was not a coward, would not have fled a battle. This man's high regard meant more to Halloran than anything in the world.

But instead he saw inky-black depths that showed him only the strength of the commander's murky soul.

"Your sword, sir!" Cordell's voice strained as he barked at Halloran.

Numbly the young captain ungirded Helmstooth. Slowly, looking at the weapon in disbelief, he handed it to his commander. Cordell turned away from him, setting the weapon aside before turning back to the assembled legionnaires.

"Command of the Pennant Lancers is conferred to Captain Alvarro, effective immediately."

Halloran heard his unit transferred to the oily hands of the unscrupulous horseman, a final outrage as he stepped through the hatchway toward his dark and musty cell.