Instead, the company marched to the measured cadence of the drummer, maintaining a straight line even as a portion scrambled through a ditch or another section forced its way through a dense thicket.

"Halt!" he cried, as they reached a steeper, rockier portion of the slope. "Shields!"

Again arrows showered them, as thick as a cloud of stinging insects, but fortunately with not much greater damaging effect. The dwarf saw with satisfaction that, though several of his men bled from fresh and obviously painful wounds, not one of them had broken ranks or fallen.

Now a shrieking din of whistles, horns, and shrill yells suddenly broke from the ground above them. Where Daggrande had seen a broken slope with occasional flashes of movement, now he beheld a horde of many thousands of feathered, painted Kultakans. The natives leaped to their feet from countless holes in the earth, as if they had appeared by magic.

Another shower of arrows erupted, and even before the missiles fell to earth, the Mazticans broke into a howling downhill charge.

"Fly, my feathered ones! Fly to victory!"

Just beneath the top of the ridge, Takamal sprang to his feet. The war chief of Kultaka turned his face to the sun, raising his voice in a long, ululating howl, letting the exultation of his own spirit lift the hearts of his charging warriors.

Behind him, a rank of warriors stood, each holding a long pole. Atop each shaft fluttered a different banner of brilliant feathers. When raised alone or in combination, they served to communicate orders to the Kultakan army.

Along the ridgetop, the Eagle Knights stood above a steep embankment. The black-and-white-cloaked warriors hurled themselves into space, changing to the forms of diving birds and soaring free before they crashed to the rocks below.

"See the strangers recoil!" cried Naloc, high priest of Zaltec and Takamal's lifelong advisor.

Indeed, the feathered swarm of the Kultakan charge had swept fully around the silver figures of the enemy. Virtually immobile in comparison to the fleet Kultakans, the strangers could only tighten their ranks and form a rough circle against the all-around assault.

"Still, they fight well," admitted Takamal as his flash of joy settled back to grim determination. "Very few of them have been slain."

Below them, the Eagles settled to earth. Quickly they became humans again, raising the wooden macas and whooping as they hurled themselves into the attack. Against them stood a single line of the strangers, wielding their silver shields and those long, metal knives. As the two lines clashed, dozens of Eagles fell, but only one or two of the enemy.

The chief knew that his encirclement would have meant the annihilation of any Maztican foe. Many of his warriors had fallen to the silver knives and metal-tipped arrows of the soldiers, and he knew there would be much grieving after this fight.

"Even the Payit serve them well," observed Naloc. Takamal had ordered small, sharp attacks against each side of the enemy position. The strangers' Maztican allies held both flanks of the position without faltering.

"Bah! We send only a diversion against them." Takamal barely took notice of the natives among the enemy. "It is the foreigners we must beat – and look, we press them back!"

"And still no sign of their monsters." Naloc looked anxiously about the field. Neither of them knew fully what to make of the tale of the half-man, half-deer creatures that reputedly helped the strangers to rout the Payit. The stories had seemed fantastic, yet the defeat of the Payit couldn't be questioned.

"If they appear, so be it. We are ready."

As if in reply to Takamal's challenge, they saw the objects of their curiosity erupt from a narrow draw with shocking speed.

"By Zaltec, it's true!" whispered Naloc in awe.

Takamal did not answer. He stared in amazement, but without fear, at the thundering creatures. The man-forms grew right out of their backs, he could see. They came in four waves, about ten of the monsters in each. Around them dashed shaggy, slavering beasts with long white fangs and bristling spiked collars. They reminded Takamal of coyotes, but they were much larger and more savage of aspect. Also, these beasts fought with every bit as much bravery as the soldiers, leaping against the warriors and tearing with their savage jaws.

The great beasts and their smaller companions raced forward, up the smoothest ground in the center of the pass. Each of the monsters carried a long spear – the longest spears Takamal had ever seen – and the force of their charge carried them like a landslide into the first ranks of the Kultakan warriors.

The warriors didn't even slow them down. Takamal saw with grudging admiration how the beasts tore a swath of death through his beautiful feathered ranks. Later, he knew, he would suffer for the broken bodies left in the wake of the attack, but now his mind worked rapidly, searching for the proper counter stroke.

"There!" he said, pointing along the route of the charge. "They come as we had hoped."

"Your wisdom once again shows the blessings of Zaltec," marveled Naloc, with an awestruck look at his chief. It had been Takamal who had guessed that the monsters, if they appeared, would attack along the stretch of smooth ground.

And it was here that the Kultakan leader had laid his trap.

Alvarro grinned as his lance tore through the feathered shield of a Kultakan warrior. His horse thundered forward, eagerly trampling the panicking spearmen before them. Beside him, the ranks of the lancers spread apart. Now they advanced in a line that meant death for any native warrior unfortunate enough to stand in its path.

The captain rode at the fore, urging his charger to keep just a neck ahead of the rest of the line. His black armor distinguished him, but his helmet also trailed a black streamer, insuring that his men could see him anywhere on the field – his men, and the enemy, too, Alvarro thought with a look at the fleeing natives before him.

The savages were breaking! His heart pounded with excitement as he saw that his riders would carry the battle. He struck again, and this time the lance was torn from his hand, stuck in the body of its victim. The rider pulled his long-sword, as most of the horsemen around him had also done.

The charge carried the riders onto the lower slopes of the ridge. Soon they would reach the warriors surrounding Daggrande's company, relieving the encircled legionnaires.

The horseman didn't see the tall pole, with its banners of bright feathers, dip and wave atop the ridge. He wouldn't have understood the command that the gesture issued, in any event – But he saw its results.

The charge continued, though the smooth ground gave way to rougher terrain. Sheer momentum carried them onward, until suddenly Alvarro found himself among rocks and brush instead of the open field. From behind this cover swarmed a nightmare attack that stopped the cavalry charge cold.

Alvarro gaped in astonishment as a huge spotted cat, bigger than any leopard, leaped onto a rock. With a shrill cry of rage, the beast exposed long fangs and curved, wicked claws. Still snarling, the cat leaped.

Instinctively Alvarro brought his sword up, but it was the equally instinctive reaction of his horse that saved him. The steed reared backward in panic, and with its front hooves, it struck the feline to earth. The cat crouched, snarling, and Alvarro saw to his horror that more and more of the creatures were emerging from cover to spring on his unsuspecting riders.

"Back!" Captain Alvarro howled, his voice shrill. "Away from these devils!" He struck one of the creatures on its skull, killing it. At the same time, he saw a horse stumble and fall to the earth under the weight of several cats. The rider, screaming in terror, was torn from the saddle and quickly disappeared beneath a nightmarish tangle of claws and fangs.