Still, the black-robed madman had attacked with a primitive savagery that chilled Halloran. His blood-caked hair, cadaverous features, and filthy aspect were unspeakably grotesque – Were all of these people so bloodthirsty, so fanatical?

This is worse than the foul beast that devoured Arquiuius, he told himself, as his thoughts leaped unbidden to that previously darkest day of his life. That disaster had motivated him to abandon his former life of arcane study and depend upon the strength of his arm and the keen steel of his sword.

Now his arms were bound behind him, and his sword was carried by another man, an enemy. For a fleeting moment, he regretted the completeness with which he had abandoned his studies. Even a swordsman could possibly use the help of a subtle magic spell now and then. Even so, he was hard-pressed to imagine how his limited assortment of spells might have aided him here.

A sharp tug on the rope brought his attention back to reality. He felt a cool breeze against his face, and the smell of the sea told him they had turned back toward the coast. The verdant canopy overhead blocked out direct sunlight, but he realized that it was nearing sunset. Somehow that fact struck him as significant.

Halloran thought again of his magic studies. He had mastered several spells, but those incantations were simply a blur of vague images now. He shook his head, wondering why he so suddenly dwelled on a time of his life that he had buried for more than ten years.

Suddenly the procession halted as they broke into a clearing in the jungle. Rough hands threw Hal to the ground. From his awkward position, Halloran saw the spearmen dispersing through the jungle. He observed several casting their javelins and then rushing quickly and silently forward.

In moments, the two prisoners were hustled into the clearing, and Hal saw the small pyramid they had first observed from the ship. Three legionnaires lay dead at the base of the structure. Obviously Cordell's first scouts had reached the pyramid only to die in this surprise attack.

The priests quickly herded Halloran and Martine toward the pyramid. The leading cleric started up the steep steps, and the warriors and apprentices prodded the captives along behind.

To the west, the sun touched the treetops. With an unconscious shudder, Hal realized that it would set in minutes.

"Tell Cordell there's been an attack… four scouts killed. Can't see Hal or the Bishou's daughter," Daggrande barked at the swordsman, who nodded quickly. "We'll try to pick up the trail."

The man started down the stairway toward the beach far below, shouting for attention, but the dwarf had already turned his men toward the jungle.

"Grabert, you worked with the rangers, right?" Daggrande asked one of the swordsmen in his detachment. When the man nodded, the dwarf continued. "Take the lead. See if you can pick up their trail."

Even as the ranger turned to follow the tracks that had battered the ground in the clearing, Daggrande shouted orders to the rest of his legionnaires.

"Here it is, Captain. They headed into the jungle," Grabert quickly announced. Immediately the troops fell into column.

Daggrande placed two crossbowmen immediately behind Grabert, followed by himself and then staggered pairs of crossbow and sword to the final swordsman bringing up the rear. The native war party had left a wide trail, and the ranger had no difficulty following the spoor. Thus the column marched quickly through the dense jungle.

Daggrande stepped quickly but quietly, ignoring the heavy, humid heat. His breastplate rested comfortably on his shoulders, and his heavy boots tromped through the brush, impervious to thorn and thistle.

The dwarf cast a quick look to the rear and saw that his legionnaires marched at full alert. The group included a half-dozen dwarves, and Daggrande knew that humans and dwarves alike were all steady veterans, brave and skilled fighters.

But he wondered what they marched against. And a small, reluctant part of him wondered what had become of Halloran.

Daggrande worked hard to keep that part of him quiet, for he considered such overwrought concern for a companion to be dangerous to his objectivity as a commander. Nevertheless, he could not deny the fear that threatened to become panic whenever he thought of his young protege in the hands of savage tribesmen.

Idly he noticed that it was almost twilight.

"Come on, by Zaltec, move!" Gultec roared at the column of spearmen that slowly worked its way along the jungle trail. The Payit army, a hundred hundredmen strong, had started from Ulatos shortly before dusk. The serpentine columns marched slowly by Gultec's standards, but still the thousands of warriors maintained a steady trot along the network of winding jungle trails converging at Twin Visages.

Now the Jaguar Knight stood in the shadows beside the path, watching the warriors jog past. Each group of hundredmen wore its own distinctive feather headdress, each group's a different color. The natives carried javelins and spear casters that enabled the warrior to throw the weapon much farther than a bare-handed toss. Some wielded heavy wooden clubs, and many – the veteran warriors – carried heavy, obsidian-edged macas.

The Payit army moved smoothly, two abreast, but Gultec still felt a vague unease. Certainly they would outnumber the strangers, but the appearance of these newcomers was so unusual and their equipment seemed so mighty that Gultec could not feel utterly confident about fighting them. Then again, perhaps the encounter would not come to battle.

Suddenly a figure joined Gultec beside the trail, and he turned to see the rotund cleric Kachin studying him. The man's gray hair, still tied in a single knot, hung over his shoulder and down to his belt. The Jaguar Knight felt a momentary urge to turn into the jungle, to vanish in his feline form. Instead, he met the gaze of the cleric squarely.

"There is hesitation all around," remarked Kachin casually. "No one, not even the Revered Counselor of Ulatos, Caxal himself, knows what to make of these visitors. Do they invade us, Gultec?" The Jaguar Knight studied the cleric as the man spoke, puzzling over his simple white mantle, protruding belly, and round face. He looked so unusual, not at all like the filthy, emaciated clerics of the younger gods. Gultec found it hard to believe that this man could truly be religious.

"They are very strange in appearance, and they move as warriors." The Jaguar Knight thought carefully as he answered. "I suspect they do not come in friendship."

"Caxal is worried that these strangers are the harbingers of Qotal himself, that the Feathered One returns to Maztica at Twin Visages, even as was prophesied." Kachin spoke ironically, and Gultec regarded the cleric of Qotal curiously. It was not at all like a priest to speak in such tones about his own god.

Kachin chuckled wryly. "I surprise you. I will tell you a thing, Jaguar Knight, and you should believe it. These men are not the servants of Qotal. Their vessels do not carry the Silent Counselor back to our shores."

"How can you know this?" Gultec demanded. "Have you seen them?"

"Do you think a priest of Qotal would not know if his True Master were even now awaiting a proper welcome?" Kachin looked harshly at Gultec, his stare making the warrior feel like a worm twisting on a dangling hook.

"Listen to me, Gultec! These are men, and they are dangerous men. It will be up to Payits such as you and me to make sure that their menace does not become our catastrophe!"

The knight regarded the cleric with growing respect. This man was very different from the weakling Mixtal. For a brief moment, Gultec regretted the training that had planted him among the Jaguar Knights, the worshipers of warlike Zaltec.