He has decided to do nothing. The mighty Nexala, masters of Maztica, will sit and wait.

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.