The girl is still a child of pluma and, too, she is the beneficiary of unpredicted aid. The white man accompanies her not as conqueror but as companion. Together they challenge the darkness, but that darkness is vast, and they are very small indeed.

"What happened to you?" gasped Erix, leaning back to stare at the towering figure of Halloran.

"The potion… one of the small bottles! It must have been a potion of growth!" Erix clapped her hands over her ears, and Hal looked around self-consciously, imagining the echoes of his deep voice rumbling through the narrow, stonewalled gorge. He squatted in the grotto, noting that the light spell had vanished sometime during the fight.

"And that… thing that attacked you… I couldn't see it! What was that?" Erix stepped closer to Halloran, hesitantly reaching upward and touching his knee as if to ascertain that he really stood before her. Even squatting, he still loomed over her, but at least their faces were closer. He made an effort to speak quietly.

"I don't know. I've heard about such things… invisible stalkers and servants that wizards can summon. I think it was one of those… that it somehow tracked us here."

Erix frowned in concentration. "Listen… the howling. It's gone!"

They both remained still for a few moments, listening. Hal noticed that the sky was growing light from the approaching dawn. "I don't think this invisible fellow had anything to do with the howling," he ventured. "It's quiet now, sure, but that doesn't mean whatever it is has given up the trail."

"Do you think others know where we are? If the stalker can find us, maybe its master can, too!"

"Or mistress…" said Hal, thinking of the wizard Darien. He knew she would never forgive him for the theft of her spellbook, and he suspected she would be relentless in her pursuit of vengeance. By the same token, that loss might limit her powers enough to make pursuit difficult.

"You've got a good point," he said. "I think we'd better get out of here right away." Rosy light now colored half the sky, but the jungle remained still. The low rumble of surf, on the beach beyond the grotto, was the only sound.

Suddenly Halloran doubled over, his giant form toppling like a felled tree. He dropped to his hands and knees, retching uncontrollably. For a second, he suffered a terrifying sensation of falling as the world spun madly around him. His body twisted, racked by convulsions, and he sensed the grass slipping from his hands as he moved involuntarily.

Finally a sense of normalcy returned. He remained kneeling, supported by his hands, and slowly caught his breath. He no longer felt nauseous. Most importantly, his size was once again that of a human, not a giant.

Erix helped him to his feet. "Are you hurt?" she asked. "You looked like you were in terrible pain."

He nodded, suppressing a groan. "I was, for a minute there. I'm glad that's over."

Erix shook her head slowly. "I don't like it, this magic that changes you so. I think we should pour the other potions out!"

"That one surely proved useful! Who knows how helpful the invisibility potion might be, or that other one? I should find out what it is."

He reached into the saddlebag and pulled out the other small bottle. Like the invisibility and growth potions, it was marked by an indistinguishable label. He popped the cork out and raised it.

"Wait," said Erix, her voice quiet but urgent. "It's so soon since the effects of the other. At least wait awhile before trying it."

He was about to ignore her caution, but something in the strain of her voice told him she was really concerned. "All right," he said and put the bottle away.

"These are the warriors who have been causing the difficulties?" demanded Cordell.

Four men had been dragged to him in chains. Now they waited on their knees before the captain-general in the plaza of Ulatos. They were filthy, wearing only torn breech-clouts. It was hard to believe that they had once been Eagle and Jaguar Knights.

"These are the ones," grunted Alvarro, cuffing one man who dared to raise his head at Cordell's voice.

The horseman knew what his commander had in mind, and the whole charade was a game he found quite entertaining. The men were not troublemakers. Their only offense had been to glare at him instead of casting their eyes down like the other prisoners. The Payit warriors generally became morose and apathetic under captivity. It was as much spirit as any of the captives had shown, but that was all the excuse Alvarro needed.

"Valez, are you ready?" Cordell asked.

"Yes, my general!" Valez, the legion's master smith, nodded. He knelt before a hot pile of coals and quickly pulled forth a long iron. Its tip was the image of the staring eye of Helm, and now it glowed cherry red.

The group stood on the raised platform in the plaza, with Darien and a strong contingent of guards. Many natives had gathered in the great square around them to witness the sorcery of the white men. Darien stood with Cordell, ready to translate when the time was right.

The first prisoner did not know what was happening. Two legionnaires threw him roughly to the ground and knelt on him, pressing his head sideways against the stones. Valez moved quickly, pressing the red-hot iron to the man's cheek.

The knight's flesh sizzled sickeningly, and a cloud of smoke hissed into the air. He screamed, but the legionnaires held firm. In a second, Valez pulled the iron away, and the knight rolled across the hard clay surface of the plaza. He sobbed uncontrollably, and though the legionnaires did not know it, his tears were tears of shame, not pain.

In short order, the other three knights were similarly overpowered and branded, though each struggled frantically against the debasement. But in the end, each of the four wore the glaring eye, branded forever onto their faces.

"The hand of Helm is everywhere," pronounced Bishou Domincus solemnly. Domincus glared at the branded men as if their very presence was an affront to his god.

"Indeed." Cordell nodded. He was worried about the cleric. Since the death of his daughter, the Bishou had become obsessed with the notion of Helm's vengeance against transgressors. And his mind, clouded by hatred, saw all Mazticans as transgressors.

However, such vehemence had in fact proved useful in the subjugation of Ulatos. So vigorously had the Bishou preached his tale of Helm's might, so vivid was the proof of his superiority in the form of the recent battle, that the Payit seemed to have no difficulty accepting Helm as a superior god. Domincus told them that Helm had personally vanquished the pagan gods. Now the Mazticans turned out daily to hear the Bishou harangue them in a language they could not understand. They recognized the glaring eye in Helm's banner, however, and began to treat it with the respect due a mighty god by prostrating themselves when the flag was raised or lowered.

"Let this be a final reminder of our mastery and the punishments meted to our enemies!" proclaimed Cordell for Darien to translate. The elf woman, robed and masked as always when she ventured into the light of the sun, looked with satisfaction at the prisoners.

She was impressed once again with the general's wisdom. The legion could not afford to keep a large garrison in Ulatos. Yet the city must know, and always remember, that it had been conquered. Even when no legionnaires were in sight, the citizens of the city would look at these four warriors and they would remember.

"Now, to the palace," spoke the captain-general, turning and marching quickly back to his residence. Darien and the Bishou accompanied him through the courtyard, where he found Daggrande and Kardann awaiting him.