Viperhand

TREACHERY AND DEFIANCE

"What is the meaning of this?" demanded Chical, gesturing to the cloak, boots, and helmet that Poshtli laid on the floor before him.

"I am here to inform you of my withdrawal from the Order of Eagle Knighthood," explained the warrior stiffly. He and bis venerable mentor stood alone in the darkened sweat lodge. Though it was a hot and sunny day, the heavy log building remained cool and lightless.

Chical stood still, staring at Poshtli for several minutes. The younger man met the gaze with a challenging glare of his own.

"I know that you cannot renounce your order lightly," Chical said eventually. "And this makes me fear that the stranger has placed some sorcery over you."

"No. It is a question of honor. I brought him here, in safety and with good intent. I can no more turn my back on that than you could renounce your responsibilities as leader of the order"

"Are you aware that his companions, his army, are even now marching on Nexal? They have conquered Kultaka and enlisted the defeated warriors of our ancient enemy in their cause against us."

Poshtli's look of surprise showed that he had been unaware of this fact. Still, his reply came quickly. "That is not Halloran's army any more than the Eagle Knights are mine. If the strangers attack Nexal, I will fight in the defense of my homeland — as a common warrior, if I must."

"Your departure means more than simply leaving the order, you understand," said Chical sadly, gesturing toward the garments at his feet. "We are not mere strangers now."

"I understand" agreed Poshtli. "Now we are enemies."

"Summon Hoxitl, Kalnak, and Chical" ordered Naltecona. Slaves hastened to obey. "The rest of you, leave!" A dozen raggedly dressed courtiers scurried from the room, relieved at the opportunity to reclothe themselves in their accustomed finery.

The high priest of Zaltec was the first to arrive, though Hoxitl was closely followed by Chical, captain of the Eagle Knights. Shortly thereafter Kafnak, captain of Nexal's Jaguar Knights, arrived.

The two knights had placed tattered shawls across their resplendent armor. Hoxitl, already dirty, blood-caked, and emaciated, didn't need to do so, since his appearance created no risk of diverting attention from Nahecona's splendor.

"Have you reached a decision about the strangers?" asked Kalnak hopefully. He had been one of the most adamant in advocating an attack against the legion before it reached Nexal.

"Indeed" said the ruler. "The knowledge has come to me — in a dream — that their leader is indeed a man and not a god. He is not Qotal returned to the True World to claim his throne. He is an invader who must be stopped!"

Kalnak's face split into a wide grin, framed grotesquely by the widespread jaws of his jaguar-skull helm. Hoxitl, too, smiled in anticipation of the many captives such a campaign would gain for Zaltec. Only Chical showed less than delight.

"Have you decided where and when this attack will take place?" inquired the Eagle Knight.

"Yes. My spies have reported to me the route of their march. I have selected the perfect place and formed a plan."

"Where?" inquired Kalnak. "Can we strike soon?"

"We place the plan in motion today. The march of the strangers takes them toward Palul, and this is where we will meet them." Palul, although a village under the control and governorship of Nexal, was still safely removed from the great city itself. It seemed to them all a good choice.

"Splendid!" agreed the Jaguar Knight. "We can destroy them in the high pass before they reach the town!"

"No," Naltecona disagreed. "That is not the plan. I want each of you to gather your most trusted knights. Take many thousandmen of warriors, too. But you are not to array for battle before Palul."

The others looked at him in confusion, and Naltecona enjoyed their curiosity. He paused for a few moments to let his listeners wonder.

"Instead, we will invite the strangers into Palul. There a great feast will be held, with much dancing and drinking of octal. Their Kultakan allies, we will insist, must remain outside the town."

"But we, with our men, will be in the town?" guessed Kalnak.

"Yes! And you, my chief of Jaguars, will give the signal. When the feast progresses, and the invaders have had much to drink, you will fall upon them from all sides. In one short battle, the strangers will be annihilated!"

"An excellent plan!" cried Hoxitl. "We shall take many captives — perhaps the majority of the invading army — in such an entrapment."

"And you, Chical? You have said nothing." Naltecona fixed his chief of Eagles with a scrutinizing eye.

"There is a thing that troubles me, Most Revered One. Always the warriors of Nexal have met their foes on the field, striving through courage and strength to prevail. It does not seem right, this masquerade of celebration and then slaughter."

"Would you have us face the magic and monsters of this legion in battle, so that we may all be killed?" challenged Kalnak before Naltecona could reply. The ruler smiled, pleased that the argument was between his underlings and did not involve himself.

"Until we know that they cannot be defeated this way, I would. I am not afraid," Chical replied.

Kalnak bristled, and only the upraised palm of the counselor prevented him from drawing his maca. "Nor am I afraid, but neither am I a fool," he sneered.

"These strangers have already bewitched the men of Kultaka," observed Hoxitl. "After they killed Takamal, something our bravest warriors have been unable to do, though not for want of trying, for many years!"

Chical bowed to Naltecona, ignoring the other two. "As my lord wishes, so it shall be. When will the strangers arrive in Palul?"

"They departed from Kultaka two days ago, and they march quickly. They could reach Palul in four more days — six at the most — so we must move quickly and quietly. We will send ambassadors to greet them, to offer presents, and to prepare the banquet. In the meantime, I want you to gather the force I have described.

"You are to march for Palul no later than tomorrow morning."

"Did you find out what all the excitement was about?" asked Halloran, when Poshtli returned to the house just after noon.

Two days earlier, they had both seen long columns of warriors filing out of the sacred plaza. They deduced that the march had something to do with Cordell, but Poshtli had been frustrated in his constant efforts to learn more. Now he returned to the house on the third day, and Hal feared that he wouldn't learn anything until it was too late.

The former knight had accepted Hal's offer to share his dwelling, since the lodge of the Eagles was no longer his home. Neither of them had wanted to remain in the palace, despite Naltecona's assurances of their safety.

The Revered Counselor, however, had been as good as his word in providing a residence for Hal. Indeed, the house was a dwelling that might have sheltered a high nobleman or esteemed sage in Faerun, so sumptuous were its appointments.

The structure stood near the sacred plaza, at the intersection of two streets and a canal. Adobe bricks, whitewashed to a gleaming brightness on the outside, formed the wall around the rooms and large courtyard of the dwelling. The house was two stories high, with three large rooms on the first floor surrounding the open courtyard.

Halloran hadn't yet been comfortable in the house, however. His mind whirled with anxiety for Erixitl. He hoped that she had reached Palul safely, that she would remain safe from the likes of the Jaguar Knights who had struck in the palace. He couldn't understand why Poshtli didn't show more concern, why he didn't go to her.

Yet Hal couldn't ask Poshtli such a question, with its implications of dishonor. He had thought about going to her himself, but then he remembered the eagerness with which she had left him. He felt certain he wouldn't be welcomed by her now.

At times, in the depths of his despair, he even considered returning to the legion. Perhaps he could return Darien's spellbook to the wizard, and everything… He quickly dismissed such thoughts, remembering the hatred of wizard and cleric both. No, the legion meant death for him.

So he tried to study the spellbook. He exercised Storm, polished his weapons and armor, or stalked through the rooms of his house, wasting time while he waited for Poshtli to find out what was happening.

These rooms included a small anteroom, with brilliant frescoes on the walls depicting birds, snakes, and jaguars in a tropical setting. The anteroom led into the flower — and tree — filled courtyard, where a turn to the left took one into a large chamber with a fireplace and many thick straw mats on the floor. Halloran finally found himself growing used to the Maztican custom of sitting on these mats, though he had resolved to make himself a chair sometime soon.

The other room on the first floor was a cooking room, with a firepit and several bins for storing mayz, beans, and fruit. The upstairs rooms were four sleeping chambers, a pair of small rooms for slaves, and a wide balcony overlooking the canal. The landward sides of the house and courtyard were surrounded by its outer walls. The courtyard met the canal with no barrier, however, and Hal had soon purchased a canoe that he kept tied up there.

Storm, meanwhile, lived in the courtyard. Hal rode the mare frequently, since the Mazticans thrilled to the sight of the great horse. He often rode him about the sacred plaza or the city streets.

Naltecona had assigned several slaves to Halloran, to perform his cooking and whatever other tasks he desired. His slaves included an old man, Gankak; the fellow's hardworking wife, Jaria; and a pair of young women, Horo and Chantil.

Since Hal was uncomfortable with the notion of owning another human being, he resolved to treat the slaves as servants. He tried to grant them privileges, such as a day of no work, and a few cocoa beans to spend in the market. To his surprise, he found that the slaves purchased items for him with the beans. As to the day off, they only stopped working when he ordered them to do so.

Then, after a week in the house, they had seen the massive columns of warriors filing from the sacred plaza, leaving the city by its southeast causeway.

"What's going on? It must be Cordell they're marching against! Did you learn anything?" Halloran bombarded Poshtli with questions.

"That's why I'm late. I finally had some luck," explained the Maztican. "All the captains of the Eagles were gone, and the apprentices didn't know much. They got called to arms in a hurry, by the order of Naltecona. It's very secret, and at first I thought I wouldn't learn anything."

"But?"

"One of the young fellows — he's always been a favorite of mine — talked to me after the exercise. I came here as soon as I could after he told me."

"Told you what? Tell me, man!" Halloran grew cold with apprehension, his fear centering around Erixitl. "Where are they going?"

"They go to ambush the legion," said Poshtli, taking a deep breath. "At Palul!"

The sound of his words still echoed through the house as Hal's face whitened in alarm. Erix! She was in Palul! "I'm going to get her," he blurted. In seconds, he gathered his arms, armor, and saddle. As he started toward the courtyard, he saw the warrior standing at the door, holding his own steel sword.

"I'm going with you," said Poshtli.

"Excellent!" hissed Zilti, high priest in the temple of Zaltec of Palul.

"The slaughter will be complete," agreed his first assistant, Shatil. They met with Hoxitl in the darkened temple in Palul. The evening rites were done, and the patriarch of their order had paid them the high honor of a personal visit. There he had outlined Naltecona's ambush.

"You, the priests, must be ready to move in quickly," continued Hoxitl. "As soon as we have any of the strangers in captivity, we will open their bodies and take their hearts. Zaltec will be fed immediately, that he may smile upon our endeavors. We will continue to feed him until the fight is long over and all of the strangers have given their lives to him."

"The warriors will conceal themselves in the buildings around the plaza?" asked Zilti.

"Yes. The festival will be for the people of Palul, with much food and drink. The hunters have slain many deer, for it is said that the strangers are over-fond of meat."

"How do we know they will attend the festival?" inquired Zilti, pressing for further details. "Perhaps they are not like us. They may not like celebrations."

Hoxitl shrugged. He had bigger problems to worry about than the objections of the priest of this minor town — problems such as the location of the woman, Erixitl. Inwardly he blanched as he recalled the fates of his two apprentices.

"We will do the best we can," he said. "We know little — nothing, really — about these strangers. I have had the chance to observe one of them in Nexal, and he seems human in most respects."

"I know someone who knows these strangers. She even speaks their tongue!" offered Shatil.

"Who?" demanded the two priests together.

"My sister! She met the white men when they first landed in Payit, even learning to speak their lanuage!" Shatil said eagerly.

"Splendid!" said Hoxitl. "Send her to the village before the invaders get here. She will be very useful for translating."

"I shall summon her immediately," said Shatil, flattered by Hoxitl's attention. "I know Erixitl will be proud at the honor we do her."

"What is it?" asked Zilti in alarm. He had watched, astonished, as the patriarch's face flushed. Hoxitl shook his head as if he had been struck dumb and needed to clear his mind. "It's… nothing," said Hoxitl, struggling to contain his glee. "Your plan is a splendid one," he told Shatil. "Very good indeed."

The long column snaked over the green ridgetops and back down into the lush valleys. Water and food, as Tokol had promised, were plentiful. Also, garbed in the lighter cotton armor, the legion moved at a brisk pace. A bright sun shone from a clear sky overhead, as it had throughout their march from Kultaka.

"By tomorrow we shall reach Palul," explained Tokol, standing beside Cordell atop the crest of a ridge.

"Darien is observing the village even now," said the commander, gesturing toward the ridges before them. The Kultakan had told him that Palul was still two or three valleys away. With a shudder, the young chief looked to the west, trying to understand the power of this woman who could fly, disappear from sight, or slay a great man like his father simply by raising her hand.

Behind them, the column extended to the bottom of the valley they had just passed through. The five hundred men of the Golden Legion marched in the fore, followed by twenty thousand Kultakan warriors and the five thousand warriors of the Payit. Cordell reflected, with quiet pride, that never had he had so many men under his command.

And never had such a tempting objective loomed before him. The images of gold and silver danced through his mind, enlivened by the many tales he had heard of the wealth of storied Nexal. The tales of the pyramids, of the size of the city, and the wealth that had been collected there after many years of taxing their subjects made his pulse pound.

Tokol gasped and stepped suddenly backward. Cordell looked up to see Darien. The elven mage had appeared on the ridge beside them. She was completely muffled in her robe today, for the sun was very bright.

"I have seen the village," she explained. "Actually, it is more like a city by the standards of Faerun. It seems to have nearly a thousand houses in the community itself, and many more spread across the surrounding hills and valley"

"Any activity there?"

"Yes. In fact, they seem to be preparing a feast. The women were placing flowers and feathered blankets all around their square. My guess is that they are preparing to welcome us."

The news was eminently pleasing to Cordell. "Perhaps we won't have to fight a battle at every stop after all," he observed. "If they're planning a feast, let's not keep them waiting."

"No! I don't want to talk to the invaders!" Erix tried to keep her voice down, but she couldn't hide her tension.

"You have to. It's important, more important than you can imagine," argued Shatil. The two of them stood in the small yard before their father's house. Lotil was inside, working at his loom.

"You are the only one here who can understand them!" persisted her brother.

Erix avoided looking over her shoulder at the town. In her vision, it had grown darker every day, every time she looked at it. Now all she saw of the great plaza in Palul was a black void, shadows impenetrable but terribly ominous.

But when her eyes fell on the looming ridgetop behind her father's house, she saw another view she found unsettling. Not because of any dark shadows she saw there, but because of the memories of her last climb up to the top, when she had been snatched into slavery by a Jaguar Knight. In the days she had been home, she had not been able to bring herself to climb that ridge.

Shatil turned away in frustration. His sister's resistance to his suggestion surprised him. In view of her reluctance, he had decided not to tell her of the true purpose behind the feast. Not knowing how she would react, if he told her the truth, he ran the risk of causing her complete refusal.

"You have told me of the battle at Ulatos," said Shatil, trying a different approach. "Perhaps if you are there to speak with the strangers, to reason with them, such an outcome can be avoided."

"How could I do this?" she demanded. But that argument of her brother's had struck home. Perhaps there was nothing she could do — a glance at the plaza showed the darkness as thick as ever — but she was indeed the only one in Palul who had any chance of talking with the strangers.

"Come to the village in the morning," Shatil urged. "Our scouts have told us that the hairy men camp just to the east tonight. "They will reach Palul by midday — for the feast! Please, you must be there, too!"

Erixitl remembered her vision the night they found the pool in the desert. The image of Nexal in ruins came back to her now as freshly as when she awakened from the nightmare. But she had seen no indication of disaster in Palul. Perhaps her presence could in fact prove beneficial.

"All right. I will come and see if they will talk."

"You are doing the right thing," said Shatif, embracing her. "I must go back down to the temple for the evening rites. I will stay there tonight and see you when you arrive."

Shatil hastened down the mountain, and Erix watched him go. It seemed that her brother's black robe became a blur with the darkness below, and soon he disappeared from sight. Finally she recognized the shadows of sunset growing around her and turned toward the house, grateful that darkness would bring a respite from her own personal shades.

"What is wrong, my daughter?" inquired Lotil as she entered.

"I'm fearful of what will happen, tomorrow and beyond," Erix admitted. She told him of Shatil's request for the morrow.

"But, Father, you must promise me something," she continued. '"Tomorrow, do not come to the village. Stay here and wait for me to come to you in the evening."

"What's this?" objected the old man, sitting taller at his featherloom. "My daughter gives me orders?"

"Please, Father. It's very important!"

"You can see things, my daughter, can you not?" asked her father suddenly. "Tell me, Erixitl, can you see tomorrow?" He fixed his sightless eyes upon her face, and Erix felt as if he could see to the depths of her soul. She squirmed uncomfortably.

Erixitl had told her father nothing of the dark images she saw. She knew that the tale of darkness, with its suggestion of impending doom, would weigh heavily upon him as well as her. Better, she thought, to bear her load in silence.

But somehow he knew, and this knowledge was a great and sudden relief to Erix. All at once, in a torrent of words, she told him of the shadows she had seen across Nexal, and of the greater darkness that lay on the town of Palul.

"This is the working of the gods, child," Lotil said finally, holding her hands as she sat beside him. "And in this you see the balance of all things. My sight has been taken from me, but your eyes have been opened in a way that few ever know. You have been granted a window to look into the future. And through that window, perhaps you will see enough to work important changes. Your brother is right, Erixitl. It is important that you go to the town tomorrow.

"Just as my loss is not so bad a thing as you might think — I have heard bird songs I never imagined before, and it is as though my nostrils have opened to a whole world of new scents — so is your gift, in some ways, a curse.

"But you can speak to these strangers. Perhaps more important, you can understand them. This gift from the couatl can be a burden, but there is certain to be a reason it was given to you. You must not be afraid to face your destiny.

"Bear it well, Erixitl, daughter of Lotil. Bear it well and make me proud.

"And, yes," the old man concluded. "I shall do as you request and stay home tomorrow."

The Golden Legion marched into Palul in perfect order, the beat of drums setting the cadence for the marching men-at-arms. A great throng of people had gathered at the outskirts of town. The Mazticans stood at both sides of the column and watched and wondered as the strange procession passed.

Erix stood in the square, with Shatil, Zilti, and some eminent Eagle and Jaguar Knights who had arrived from Nexal to greet the strangers. She wore the bright feathered cloak from the market, and its brilliant colors complemented her dusky skin and long, black hair. The legionnaires who marched past stared, captivated by her beauty. Standing with the village luminaries, Erix didn't realize that they stared at her.

Together they greeted the legionnaires as more and more of the men entered the plaza. The square was all in natural light, and Erix felt tremendous relief that, for now at least, the shadows were absent.

The riders, all forty of them, followed the first company of footmen. They wheeled and bucked their horses, frightening, amazing, and thrilling the Mazticans with the show. The greyhounds growled and snapped, sending the watchers reeling back.

The leader of the horsemen pranced up to the group gathered around Erix, whereupon the mount did a tight, circling whirl. The black streamers on the man's helmet floated into a ring around him as a murmur of approval arose from the watching villagers.

Suddenly those streamers brought a jolt of recognition to Erix. She studied the rider and knew with a certainty that this was the same man.

Her mind flashed to the battlefield at Ulatos, with dead and dying Mazticans everywhere. The legion's riders thundered at will about the field, trampling, stabbing, slashing their way through the enemy wherever the Payit tried to stand. This one, with the black streamers, saw her and raced forward. She had stood still, expecting to die, and then Halloran had appeared to save her life.

The rider's eyes met Erix's once, and she quickly looked down. She felt his gaze linger on her a moment longer, but then the red-bearded captain moved away. More and more legionnaires marched into the plaza behind him.

Soon came the imposing presence of Cordell himself. They had no difficulty identifying the man atop his prancing black charger. He held his piercing black eyes high, looking over the heads of the crowd. His steel breastplate gleamed, but it was his supremely confident, even arrogant posture that clearly marked him as the commander.

Behind Cordell came two more of whom Erixitl had heard much: the elven mage Darien, completely masked by her dark robe, and the tall, scowling Bishou Domincus.

Then row upon row of footmen marched forward, until nearly all of the strangers had entered the square. The file of their Kultakan and Payit allies approached the outskirts of the town.

Kalnak and Chical advanced and stood nearby, bowing deeply, as Cordell dismounted. They clapped their hands, and slaves hurried forward, placing bundles of presents on the ground and unwrapping them before the delighted captain-general.

They unwrapped large packages of brilliant feathers, capes of pluma, beautiful shells, and tokens of jade and coral. All was greeted with polite interest. Then finally a cloak was removed from atop a pair of large circular bowls, revealing in one a pile of fine gold dust. The other contained an equal pile of silver.

These, Erixitl saw without surprise, caused Cordell's eyes to flash. The captain-general involuntarily licked his lips, looking back and forth from the gold to the silver.

"These gifts are a token of love and friendship from Naltecona, Revered Counselor of Nexal," said Erix, in the common tongue of the strangers.

Instantly the legionnaires within earshot fell silent. She saw Cordell staring at her, his piercing black eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Where did you learn our speech?" he asked.

"It — it was a gift, bestowed upon me by Chitikas Couatl," she explained. "You would call it magic."

Cordell looked to Darien, invisible within her deeply cowled hood. The hood nodded, barely perceptibly. "Splendid!" boomed Cordell. "Please continue!"

"We are preparing a feast in your honor. We would be joyful if you would join our celebration."

"Of course we will!" Cordell threw back his head and laughed, in fine spirits. Erix wished she could stop there, but her instructions from Kalnak had been clear.

"We must please ask that your allies from Kultaka camp outside of the village. You see, they are the hereditary enemies of our people. There would certainly be trouble if they were allowed into the town."

Once again Cordell's eyes narrowed suspiciously, and he looked at the warriors arrayed behind Erix. Nearly a thousand men were visible around the village, but they were not carrying weapons, nor did they seem to be deployed for an attack. Neither he, nor Erix, knew of the thousands more concealed inside the houses or behind garden walls. Also unsuspected, another ten thousandmen lurked in the brushy cover around the village.

Apparently the captain-general's suspicions remained slumbering, for after a moment's thought, he nodded. "That seems to make sense. All right, consider it ordered! Bishou Domincus, tell Tokol he'll have to keep his men outside — on my orders."

"Yes, General," said the dour cleric, bowing and departing with a distasteful look at Erixitl and the warriors. As he left, Erix saw Cordell lean toward Darien and whisper something. The elven wizard nodded and turned away. She melted into the crowd of legionnaires and Mazticans as Cordell turned back to Erix.

The red-bearded captain, now on foot, clumped up to Cordell, his heavy horseman's boots scuffing across the pavement. Erixitl remembered that Halloran had told her his name was Alvarro. He stared at Erix again, and she squirmed under the pressure of his gaze. Surely he couldn't remember her. His mouth opened in a wide grin as he turned away, but she saw no sign in his eyes that he recognized her from the Payit battlefield.

"Now, what's this about a feast?" he asked.

Darien stepped carefully among the throng that had gathered in the plaza. The legionnaires, from long experience, moved quickly out of her path. Perhaps because of the troops' example, or else because her slight, muffled figure seemed mysterious and thus frightening, the villagers also moved aside to give her a wide berth.

Soon she found the type of place she sought — a shady path between two buildings, where several towering trees served to block out the sun. Also important, seven warriors relaxed here, enjoying the respite from the hot sun in the plaza. With relief, she threw back her hood. Even in the shade, the brightness was uncomfortable, but at last she could bare her head. And she must be unmasked in order to perform her assigned task.

Several Maztican warriors stood back as the elf walked among them. She smiled, passing her milky eyes over the men. When Darien smiled, she was a very beautiful woman indeed, and her beauty was not lost on these warriors.

"Come," she said to one, speaking the language of Nexal, which she had learned earlier through the casting of a simple spell.

The fellow, a tall, lanky spearman with a shirt of padded cotton and a headdress of green feathers, stepped quickly forward.

Darien led him down the pathway until they were out of earshot of his companions. Though these had started to follow Darien and the spearmen, another look from the mage — this one was not a smile — had quickly backed them off.

Darien reached her long white fingers to her ear and started playing with a strand of white hair. Her eyes stared into the warrior's, and then she passed a hand before her face.

"Ghirrina" she said, whispering the charm spell softly. Instantly the warrior's face relaxed into an expression of complete trust, and Darien knew the spell had been successful. The warrior now regarded her as a faithful friend and confidant.

She began to ask him questions, and he began to answer.

From the chronicles of Colon:

Seeking a worthy lord among a seething nest of godhood.

Zaltec's presence, always here, always hungry, is growing into a force to wrack the True World. The cult of the Viperhand, whereby young warriors — even some women and untrained youths — vow their hearts and souls and bodies to the god of war, has grown like a tumor in Nexal.

The god of the strangers, Helm, is also a presence I can feel. Eternally vigilant and watchful, he stakes his claim to Maztica boldly, a clear challenge to Zaltec.

Now, too, I have sensed a new and spidery essence, a goddess of darkness and evil such to make even Zaltec appear playful and benign. Her name is Lolth. This being is tied to the Ancient Ones, I know. She watches from a great distance, but her interest grows intense.

But she is also tied somehow to the strangers. This is a connection I cannot identify, but I sense that it is very real. And this frightens me deeply.

A connection between the True World and the land of these strangers that goes beyond the bounds of the human cultures is dangerous enough. A connection that is personified in the blackness of this spider queen has the potential for menace and disaster beyond belief.