"You mustn't lose heart," soothed Kardann, elated by Cordell's attitude. "You and some of your men can stay if you wish. Indeed, you can stay and garrison this fort!" Kardann was delighted. He had just had a tactical idea.

Daggrande should be done by now, Cordell decided.

"Your ships, then," Cordell said, beckoning Kardann out of the enclosing walls of the fort and back to the mouth of the redoubt, with its view over the placid lagoon.

"Choose your ships, Kardann," announced the general as they again came into view. "Choose the vessels to take you back to Amn!"

His voice was as hard as ice.

Kardann stared at the lagoon, gasping again. He struggled to speak, tried to force words from his throat. But an overwhelming sense of panic, of utter helplessness, threatened to break him entirely.

The ships still floated in the lagoon, easier to spot than ever, for each was marked by a crackling orange blaze. The moonlight illuminated a climbing plume of black smoke over each vessel. Daggrande had done his work weil. Decks, masts, hulls, cabins, everything combustible caught fire and burned. The carracks and caravels swiftly gave way to the oil-spread conflagration that ravaged each one of the vessels. The flames spread quickly to every timber of seasoned wood, burning each until the hulls fractured and water sizzled over the flames, extinguishing them as the ships slipped, one by one, to the bottom of the lagoon.

"Come, Kardann," urged Cordell as the assessor turned to regard him with horror-filled eyes. "Choose your ships."

Halloran saw the proud warrior as soon as he crested the top of the pyramid. The man regarded him curiously for several moments, Halloran returned his attention, looking at the broad cape of eagle feathers, the high, beaked helmet – and the long wooden bow that had saved their lives.

He helped Erix onto the summit, then pointed at the figure of the Ancient One that had started to climb below them. The man nodded and spoke.

Erix replied, then turned to Halloran. "He says he is Poshtli, an Eagle Knight from Nexal. He is here because of a vision, and we are part of his vision!"

Halloran looked again at the warrior, his curiosity turning to amazement. "Let's thank him after the fight's over," he said curtly, still watching the climbing figure.

"The strangers can be very rude," apologized Erix, speaking to Poshtli. "But he is a great warrior. We thank you for saving us, but do you know whom we fight against?"

The Eagle Warrior shrugged. "I know that I fight for the preservation of Nexal, and that is all I need to know. Still, those beasts are horrible, like monstrous coyotes with the power of Tezca in their bellies."

"They serve Zaltec," corrected Erix. "This black thing, below us here, this is an Ancient One walking the True World."

"Soon he will walk the world of death," grunted Poshtli. Impassive, he raised his maca and went to stand beside Halloran. The two awaited the Ancient One at the very edge of the top, not wanting to grant him any advantage.

The masked figure paused below them, well out of sword range. They heard a sound, a muffled word, and suddenly the Ancient One floated straight up into the air! Poshtli growled something and Halloran suppressed a shudder.

The figure floated free of the pyramid, slowly drifting upward. When it reached a height equal to Hal's, it stopped and hung motionless in the air. The body looked human, though it was wrapped in black silken garments and leather boots. The moonlight reflected brightly, but this shape before them seemed a void of darkness in the night.

Suddenly they heard another command, a soft magical word, and then they were shrouded in complete darkness. "Helm's curses!" Hal stumbled backward, away from the edge of the pyramid, knowing that the Ancient One had cast a spell.

He heard Poshtli shout a challenge, followed by a splintering crack. Halloran imagined the wooden maca meeting that black steel longsword, with only one possible result. He heard a thud and a grunt. The legionnaire finally broke from the area of darkness, a bloblike bubble of magical fog that prevented all light from entering or leaving.

A dark form exploded from the darkness, and Halloran barely had time to raise Helmstooth. The deflection saved his life as the black steel of the Ancient One's sword slashed through the sleeve of his shirt but missed his skin by a hairbreadth.

Hal backed away, keeping himself between the attacker and Erix. The bubble of darkness slowly dissipated, but he still could not see Poshtli. The warrior had been swept off the pyramid by the Ancient One's attack.

They clanged blades several times, and the dark figure moved with shocking quickness. Again Hal was forced to retreat just to maintain his guard, Erix moving nimbly ahead of him, making sure they didn't get cornered.

Hal's blistered arm stung with each abrupt move that he made. Sweat ran into his eyes, and he frantically blinked it away, cursing the momentary blur in his vision. Still his foe assaulted him with that blinding, whirlwind speed.

Lunging desperately, Halloran began an attack that slowed the dark-swathed swordsman, even forced him to stumble back for several steps. But instantly the black figure recovered, and again Hal struggled to protect himself against a series of lightning blows.

The Ancient One made a dart to Hal's left, and the legionnaire lunged to block, cursing as his foot caught among the tangled brush on the pyramid.

Instantly as Hal fell, the attacker cut back to the right. The black steel did not come seeking the man, but instead darted after Erix. Hal twisted to his feet, fear energizing his reactions as the murderous figure closed in on the woman.

Once again his mind groped for a spell, any magic he could use to prevent disaster from striking Erixitl. He tried to think of the magic missile again, but the words would not come. Instead, he remembered the dream, falling asleep and then waking up to light. The command words to the light spell drifted through his mind impudently, useless and mocking. But it was all he had.

In desperation, he shouted the spell, not certain if his pronunciation was proper or if his hands were correctly positioned for the casting to work. If only he could delay the dark one for two seconds…

The cool wash of light surprised all of them. It emanated from Erixitl's feathertoken, a medium glow that clearly illuminated the top of the pyramid. Hal again leaped forward, but started in surprise as the Ancient One reeled away, clutching his hands to his mask and screaming an inhuman, high-pitched shriek as the light seemed to sear his eyes with pain.

The figure turned away from Erix, hissing its rage, just as Helmstooth darted toward its chest. The blow was strong and true, but Hal's blade jarred against a shirt of black chain mail, almost unnoticeable under the black silk shirt.

The Ancient One quickly recovered his balance and forced Hal backward again with savage, lightning strokes. The figure held its arm raised, blocking the bright light. He felt himself approaching the edge of the pyramid, struggling to turn away, but now the masked attacker sensed cold, cruel victory, and the attacks came with unrelenting force.

Halloran parried to the left and took a gash in his right arm. He slashed back to the right and cried out as the black steel bit into his blistered left flank. Then his foot felt only air behind him, and he knew he could retreat no farther.

Helmstooth wavered before him as he maintained a careful guard, but the Ancient One took his time about this attack. He raised his sword arm high, its tip pointed low, toward Halloran, as Hal desperately struggled for room to maneuver. The attacker's black-gauntleted hand moved slowly back and forth.