"Here, my daughter," Tzilla whispered, stepping out of the doorway to press a heavy bundle in Erixitl's hands. She felt the pliable softness of mayzcakes and smelled spicy beans.

"Thank you, my mother," she replied, drawing a warm pleasure from the ritual exchange between a young woman and a matron.

"Travel well and swiftly, girl. These are troubled days in the land of the Payit. May your god watch over you!"

Erix bowed deeply. "Your kindness is blessing enough. I hope your husband and sons return from the battle unwounded and with many prisoners."

She started down the trail in the first light of dawn. The mist still filtered among the palms lining the trail and the clumps of mangaroo trees to her right. She skirted the swamp of the delta, then turned westward before she reached Ulatos. She wanted to witness the plain, with its great and irresistible array of military splendor, before she returned again to the great city of the Payit.

Passing between the city and the mangaroos, she noticed that the mist had dispersed. Then she saw a haze of color before her, and she knew she had found the armies on the Ulatos Plain.

She could see little of the troops themselves, for the slowly undulating ground concealed them. But to her left, the air was aflutter with brilliant feather streamers, the whirling fans of pluma, and the great banners of the war chiefs. To her right, she saw the pennants and flags of the strangers, smaller in number and less colorful to be sure, but just as martial.

Then the sounds of trumpets and conch-shell horns, whistles and shouts, the clashing of spears against shields as the Payits thundered the challenge, all echoed across the clearing. Erix settled down to wait, noticing that the field was fringed with many other people, old folks, some women, and a few youths not quite old enough to serve as apprentice warriors. All had come in curiosity or fascination to see the strangers and watch the Payit army destroy them.

And then the pennants and flags began to move.

From the chronicles of Colon:

In the hope of the Plumed Father's return, may he know the depths of our need!

Now does Naltecona fast again. He makes many sacrifices at dusk and plans many more for the dawn. All of his sages hold their tongues, and none dares offer counsel.

The Revered Counselor awaits the decision before Ulatos, with a sense of calm that has previously eluded him. But he has convinced himself of his own truth with single-minded determination, and he will allow the battle to determine his mind.

His decision is based on two points. Each is simple, and each is so deeply ingrained in Naltecona's mind that none can offer the slightest voice of dissent, save upon penalty of his life.

If the strangers are destroyed, they cannot be gods.

If the strangers destroy the Payit, Naltecona will know their godhood. Then will he prepare to welcome Qotal back to his ancestral throne.

Ulatos and Helmsport

Emotion tightened Gultec's throat as he absorbed the spectacle. Never in memorable history had so many warriors of the Payit gathered in one place, for one campaign. The whistles and shouts, the crashing of weapons against shields, the pounding of feet against the ground, all created an aura so overpowering that the Jaguar Knight could do nothing but allow the sensations to wash over him.

The colors dazzled his eyes. The pennants and plumes and symbols and banners all floated magically. Many of the warriors danced as they passed him, and their tall feathered headdresses swayed like graceful birds. Jaguar Knights prowled among the companies, their spotted armor appearing clearly for a moment and then vanishing again in the whirl of color. Eagle Knights preened and strutted, proudly aloof from the activity around them.

The grandeur of the army overcame all of the chieftains standing on the housetop, and for several minutes, none of them spoke. There was little they could do, for the moment, in any event.

Gultec finally began to see the army, more than twenty thousand strong, in a more practical eye. He alone among the dozen or so chiefs here had fought the invaders already. Gultec felt that he alone possessed a satisfactory respect for their prowess.

But even he had trouble imagining the strangers, numbering perhaps half a thousand, standing against the array of force around him. Forty Payit would attack for every one of the strangers. Surely they would overwhelm and destroy the foe!

True, the attack would be made across the open plain by Caxal's order. Still, Gultec had managed to interject one measure of caution into the plan, if the men of Ulatos had the discipline to obey.

In the leading division of the army, marked clearly by banners of golden feathers, advanced three long columns, each a thousandmen of the city's own guard, men Gultec and Lok had trained for years. Now those men had been given a strange and difficult task.

Their Jaguar and Eagle chiefs had ordered these troops to advance toward the strangers, to make great noise and show, and then to swiftly withdraw when the strangers attacked. The command was exceptionally difficult because the warriors considered such a withdrawal insulting and unwarlike.

Gultec had done his best to insist upon the tactic, for he had placed thousands of slingers and bowmen behind this first rank. He had assuaged the insulted warriors' pride with the promise that, when the missiles had done their work, the men of Ulatos would be the first to meet the enemy in melee.

Now he could only wonder if they would have the discipline to obey.

"They come on quickly in the center, my general," announced the lookout. Cordell saw the advance plainly but did not admonish the man. Better to receive too much information during a battle than too little.

The captain-general had just joined the lookout atop the observation tower his men had constructed during the night. The sturdy square structure, thirty feet high, had been raised so that the general and his officers would have a good view of the flat battlefield.

Darien and the Bishou remained below, together with Cordell's signal officers and their clusters of flags. Now, as the haze lifted, he saw the surge of color opposite his center, like a wave of silk ribbons flickering across the ground.

Arrayed to meet them stood the sword-and- buckler men of Captain Garrant, protecting both flanks. Behind and between the swordsmen, Daggrande's crossbows stood in compact ranks. Other companies of swordsmen and longbows stood farther to each flank. But the five hundred men looked considerably overmatched by the mass of natives across the plain.

Hidden to the rear of the legion, near the base of the square tower, were Cordell's strongest weapons, or so he hoped. Gathered in four wings of ten or twelve riders each, the lancers remained hidden from the enemy in several ravines back from the shore. Each wing could charge into the fray within moments of receiving its order.

But the horses would stay hidden for now. Instead, Cordell would let the native warriors taste the cold death of the legion infantry.

The advance in the center became a charge, great blocks of spearmen and swordsmen each clearly marked by the colorful swath of its headdresses. The native army swept across the plain, thousands of men rushing Garrant's and Daggrande's companies amid a tremendous cacophony of sound.

"Signal the charge… for Garrant and Daggrande only. Now!" Cordell barked. In the next instant, two flagmen raised the pennants of these companies, selecting for each the banner with the bright yellow fringe.

"We'll see what these savages are made of," Cordell said, to no one in particular.

"It's the yellow flag, Captain!"