Viperhand

A DARKER NIGHT

"Yes, there is a chance we can do it — a slim chance, but I agree that we must try!" Poshtli grimly clapped his fist into the palm of his other hand. Erix and Halloran, visible for these past few hours, nodded in relief.

The noble warrior had been stunned to speechlessness when they had called to him, invisible, from before his throne. At first, Poshtli had bristled in superstitious fear, but when they touched him, he became convinced of their presence. In any event, the effect of the potion had dissipated shortly after they had begun to speak.

Poshtli showed no surprise at Erixitl's tale of her dreams, and the premonition about Naltecona perishing below the full moon. He agreed that the counselor should be spirited out of Axalt's palace immediately. They had less than twenty-four hours before the rising of the full moon.

"Do you speak directly with Naltecona in his quarters?" asked Halloran. "Can we get to him that way?"

Poshtli shook his head. "I see him alone, but we are always guarded. We could not effect an escape that way."

Halloran's heart fell. They had achieved one objective in reaching Poshtli, but that was only useful if they could proceed to the Revered Counselor himself. "You told us, long ago, about secret passages designed by the rulers and hidden in their palaces. Is there any way you could find these — perhaps use them to get to Naltecona?"

"That might be possible," Poshtli agreed. "It is traditional practice for the Revered Counselors to conceal escape routes in their palaces, and a route of exit could certainly be used to gain entrance as well."

"Are there others in the palace of Axalt?" asked Halloran, growing hopeful again.

"I do not know for certain, but I would suspect that they exist," Poshtli replied. "The problem will be to locate them. I will visit Naltecona's Lord Architect. He lives here in the palace. He would know about the secrets of this palace, and perhaps the palace of Axalt as well."

They heard a deep rumbling, a powerful throbbing in the air that they could feel in the pits of their stomachs. In moments, the vibration reached the ground, and for several seconds the floor trembled.

All three of them looked at each other in shock. Poshtli, the first to recover, shook his head grimly. "The volcano, Zatal, growls. Wait here, in my private chamber." Their friend ushered them into a smaller gallery leading off one side of the throne room. "I'll see if the Lord Architect can help"

Then, with a swish of the curtain, he was gone.

Shatil hurried to the temple building in the sacred plaza. The bulk of the Great Pyramid towered above him, dark now, hours after sunset. The moon, one night short of full, illuminated the vast square with its thousands of restless warriors. He entered the stone structure, descending through the doorway into the dank coolness of the temple proper. Jaguars skulked in the shadows, and the red brazier cast its glow across the statue of the warrior god Zaltec.

"What is it?" asked Hoxitl, turning from the statue and recognizing the young priest.

"I have been to Halloran's house. Erix was there, but no more," Shatil explained breathlessly. "They are here, in the sacred plaza. They seek Poshtli; they will try to rescue Naltecona from the strangers!"

He spoke in excitement. As Shatil had considered his sister's mission, he had begun to suspect that perhaps Hoxitl had been wrong. Indeed, Erix would be a great heroine if she could bring the Revered Counselor out of the enemy clutches. Surely this was not the act of an enemy of Zaltec!

Hoxitl's reaction surprised him. The high priest's eyes widened in alarm. "She must be stopped" he cried in sudden panic. Swiftly, angrily, he whirled away and fought for self-control.

Hoxitl remembered vividly the warning of the Ancient One: Naltecona's death, among the strangers, was to be the signal for the uprising. If he were rescued, the signal might not occur. The cult of the Viperhand, coiled and aching for release, might be thwarted of its great explosion.

"Shatil spoke tentatively. "But, Patriarch, is this not good? Would not Naltecona's rescue allow us the freedom to strike at the strangers?"

"No! Can't you see designs of those who would thwart Zaltec?" Hoxitl turned savagely on the young priest. He couldn't tell him of the warning of the Ancient One — that had been too private, pertaining to Naltecona's and the high priest's own fates. Yet he needed Shatil's help, his obedience.

"We must go to Poshtli and try to stop your sister. Do you have the Talon of Zaltec?" At Shatil's nod, Hoxitl continued. "We will seek Erixitl in the palace. If we find her, you must be prepared to use it."

"I understand," said Shatil, swallowing a bitter objection. He was a priest of Zaltec. He wore the brand of the Viperhand. He had no choice but to nod humbly and obey.

Helm, patron god of the Golden Legion, was represented by his faithful as the All-seeing Eye. Those who worshiped ever vigilant and watchful Helm would not be surprised by enemy ambush or strategem — or so claimed his clerics. The All-seeing Eye would provide his faithful with warning and alarm.

Now the ever watchful one tickled a cautious nerve in the mind of his devout cleric, Bishou Domincus, awakening him from an early, fitful sleep.

Tingling to a sense of danger he had learned never to ignore, the tall, bearded cleric emerged from his sleeping chamber and started toward the rooms of Cordell and Darien. On the way, he passed the guarded chamber where Naltecona was held.

Here alarm prickled the hair on his neck, and the Bishou hurried to his general. He encountered Alvarro, drinking octal with some of his riders in a palace garden.

"Come with me," he said to the captain, then turned to the men. "Get to Naltecona's chamber! Double the guard! There's treachery about!"

The captain-general, aroused by the tumult, emerged from his chamber with a cotton tunic thrown over his shoulders. Darien, robed, followed moments later.

"What is it?" demanded Cordell.

"I have been warned by Helm," pronounced the Bishou, his voice booming. "There will be an attempt against our prisoner!"

"To kill him?" asked the general, alarmed.

"Perhaps. Or to free him," said the Bishou. "In any event, we must increase the guard."

Cordell acted quickly, having had experience in the past with the Bishou's premonitions of disaster. "Double the men" at the gates and in the hallways. Roust the troops from their sleep — now!"

The alarm quickly spread through the palace. Cordell then gestured to Darien, Alvarro, and the Bishou. "Come on — hurry!"

He led them toward Naltecona's chamber.

"Kirisha" Hal whispered, and cool white light spilled through the previously dark tunnel. Poshtli looked at him, blinking momentarily in surprise, then turned back to the sheet of paper in his hands.

"That does make map-reading a little easier," he admitted. "Now, this tunnel should take us under the palace of Axalt."

The warrior led the way, with Erixitl behind him and Halloran bringing up the rear, since the dank, stone-lined tunnel offered only enough space for a single-file advance.

The Lord Architect had shown them a passage leading from Naltecona's throne room itself to a network of tunnels passing beneath the palaces, pyramids, and courtyards of the sacred plaza. A courtier had announced the arrival of the priests of Zaltec as the small group was preparing to depart, and Poshtli had instructed him to keep the priests waiting.

The map had been hastily drawn by the architect of Nexal, who had designed the palace of Naltecona. High predecessor, who had created the plans for Axalt's palace some sixty years earlier, no longer lived. Consequently, the architect had warned, the map became less accurate the closer they got to their goal. It didn't show every passage, and the man had told Poshtli that the scale was rough at best.

But it was all they had, and it was far better than nothing.

"I think we're starting to go up," Erix announced after long minutes of walking. The others paused and regarded the tunnel before and behind them, agreeing that she was right.

"The slaves who provide his food tell me that Naltecona is quartered in the old Revered Counselor's chambers. That should make our task a little easier. There's certain to be a secret passage leading there" Poshtli held his steel longsword in one hand now as the climb in the tunnel became more noticeable. "We must be under the palace now."

Abruptly the tunnel met an intersection with another passage crossing at right angles. Poshtli stopped, confronted with three choices of direction.

"That way," said Erix decisively, pointing to the right.

The men looked at her, surprised by her vehemence. She pointed again, and they shrugged. With no more convincing alternative, the warrior led them to the right.

This tunnel proceeded for perhaps two hundred paces and then ended in a steep stone stairway.

"Up there," Erix whispered.

"How can you know where we're going?" asked Halloran, wanting to believe that they were on the right track.

"I don't know," she replied. "But I think we'll find Naltecona up ahead."

Carefully Poshtli led the way up the steep, spiraling steps. After one full circle, the stairway ended at a narrow platform. Before them, fully illuminated in the light of Halloran's spell, stood the outline of a narrow stone door.

"Kirishone" Hal whispered, dousing the light. He didn't want any telltale gleam through a crack to give them away to anyone on the other side.

"Let's have a look," Poshtli said, pushing against the portal. With a dull rasp of wooden pivots, the stone door slowly yielded to his pressure.

Soundlessly the warrior slipped through, quickly followed by Erix and Hal. They smelled moist foliage, and grass cushioned their footsteps. For a few moments, they blinked into what seemed like pitch darkness, but gradually their eyes adjusted to the gloom.

They had entered an enclosed garden, Hal saw, one that was open to the sky above. He guessed that they were in the right palace, but he could only hope that somehow they had emerged into the proper area of that palace.

"D'you hear somethin?" The guttural question, spoken from a few feet away, froze them in place. The language was that of the legionnaires.

"I dunno. Here, get a spark for the torch."

"Styberius" hissed Hal, quickly pulling a pinch of sand from his pouch. He had studied the sleep spell but never used it before.

"Hey…" The original voice grunted softly in surprise, but then the listeners were rewarded by three soft thuds as bodies fell to the ground.

Erix quickly knelt beside the forms of the slumbering guards. The overcast kept the night very dark, but enough light from the nearly full moon penetrated the clouds to reveal the garden in dim, shadowy detail.

"I thought you killed them," the woman whispered, "but they're only asleep."

"Guards — a good sign," Poshtli added. "It means they have something worth guarding here, and this looks like a royal garden. Naltecona might be in one of these sleeping chambers."

They advanced along a grassy path between ferns and blossoms. Several tall, graceful palms leaned over them, silhouetted against the sky.

"Wait!" Erix warned quietly, her voice taut with alarm.

"What is it?" Hal turned from side to side, peering into the shrubbery around them. Was something moving?

"Kirisha!" The command, barked in a woman's voice, suddenly filled the garden with white light. A dozen or more legionnaires leaped from the rooms around them, swords drawn.

"A trap!" cried Poshtli. He raised his longsword and deflected the attack of the first swordsman.

Halloran leaped in front of Erixitl and slashed with Helms-tooth at another attacker. He grunted in astonishment as the weapon cleaved his opponent's sword and went on to slash the man's body into two pieces. Never had he struck a blow with such power.

He turned and chopped at another legionnaire who rushed him from the flank, surprising him. Nevertheless, this blow sent another attacker flying across the garden to smash, stunned, against the wall. Halloran hacked again, an overhand chop that once more snapped his opponent's sword and cleaved the man in two.

Poshtli stumbled against Hal, pressed by three attackers, and Halloran whirled. He charged into them, his blade flashing, bone-crushing power behind his attacks. Three savage blows dropped the swordsmen, and Hal rushed ahead, driving a rank of legionnaires back before him.

He saw stark fear in the faces of the men he fought, but, mindful of his companions, he didn't pursue too far. He moved back to Erixitl's side, and saw the awe upon her face. "How did you do that?" she gasped, gesturing to the broken bodies around them.

For the first time, Halloran noticed the tingling in his wrists. He looked down and saw the delicate rings of his feathered wristbands — the dowry given him by Lotil, the featherworker. Could those beautiful objects truly be the source of his sudden, giantlike strength? What had Lotil told him?

"… they may not look like much, but I think that you will appreciate them"

Indeed he did! Panting slightly, Hal looked around. The swordsmen stood in a rough circle around them, their eyes wide with fear. He saw movement behind the legionnaires, recognizing the dark form of Darien. It was she who had cast the light spell.

She raised her hand, and he saw a dim pebble of light float from her finger — a pebble he had seen in battle before. "Fireball!" he cried, feeling a hopeless sense of panic as that innocent-looking globule of flame drifted toward them.

Erixitl seized his arm and Poshtli's, pulling them both close to her. Spellbound, they watched the dot move closer.

The two or three seconds of its flight passed like hours.

Then the world around them erupted into searing light. Tongues of liquid flame exploded from the pebble, encircling them, hissing with infernal heat. Moist, succulent plants sizzled into ash. The ring of encircling legionnaires stumbled backward, many suffering burns on their faces or hands.

Halloran felt the heat pressing around them, bringing sweat to his forehead. Numb with terror, he awaited the devouring kiss of flame that would end their lives. He sensed Erix's fear beside him as her hand squeezed his arm with viselike pressure.

But then the flames faded away, and they were unharmed! They stood amidst a large, circular patch of blackened, smoldering garden, but Erix's pluma had protected them from the spell.

"Take them, you cowards!" He heard Darien's voice, uncharacteristically shrill, commanding the legionnaires. Perhaps two dozen of them still stood, and once again they pressed forward.

"Stay close to me," warned Erix as Hal started to lunge toward the swordsmen. He saw, from the devastated plant life, that the ring of protection around Erix seemed to extend some ten feet away from her.

Feinting toward the men before him, he drove them back. Then he turned and, with Poshtli at his side, attacked those rushing from the rear. In three blows, three more men fell, and the Maztican stayed another. Hal noted that Poshtli readily adapted his skill with a maca to the use of the hard steel blade.

Halloran saw Darien raise her hand again. A bolt of magic hissed from her finger, a magic arrow forming in the air. It crackled toward him, and he grunted with pain as it hissed into his hip, leaving a smoking burn.

Again a bolt crackled, and he flinched backward, knowing he couldn't avoid the attack. But then a lithe form stepped before him. The magic arrow struck Erixitl between her breasts, where the pluma token lay against her skin, unseen beneath her dress.

The bolt crumbled into sparks and fell harmlessly to the ground. The swordsmen paused for a moment as Darien's shrill cry of hatred split the air. Bolt after bolt shot forth, each one popping into nothingness against the Maztican woman. Finally Darien dropped her hand, her spell exhausted. The other attackers closed tentatively.

"We've got to get out of here," Poshtli grunted. "They knew we were coming. Naltecona's too well guarded!"

Sensing the truth of his friend's words, Halloran cursed in frustration. He felt he could go anywhere, attack at any odds, with the pulsating might flowing into his muscles from his pluma wristbands. But he knew this was an illusion. He might be strong and quick, but he was still mortal.

"Come on!" said Erix, starting back toward the concealed door they had used to enter.

Hal and Poshtli fell back beside her, fighting off the approaches of the attackers. Feeling no remorse in the heat of the battle, Hal struck brutally to the right and left, slaying his former comrades as he would kill any foe in any battle. If anything, the presence of Erixitl beside him and the need to protect her drove him to greater heights of savagery than he had ever known.

The door stood open before them. The three guards still slumbered incongruously as the battle raged around them. One of them began to stir as Hal and Erix turned back to the smoldering garden. The legionaires pursued at a safe distance, giving the bone-crunching sweep of Halloran's sword a wide berth.

"Get through — I'll close the door!" Poshtli leaped into the portal, stepping aside so that Hal and Erix could slip past him.

"Go!" Halloran urged Erix, facing outward to hold back the pursuit.

Neither of them saw the groggy legionnaire sit up near the doorway. The effects of the sleep spell melted away as he saw the fight raging before him.

Swiftly the man sprang to his feet and dove into Erixitl, carrying her heavily to the ground. The two rolled away from the doorway, away from Halloran.

"Erix!" he cried, his voice cracking. He leaped after her, seeing other legionnaires reach down, helping their companion to pull her away.

Dimly he saw Darien raise her hand, her spell a sharp bark of sound amid the chaos in the garden. Erixitl disappeared before Halloran as he crashed into a wall of stone — a hard granite barrier conjured between him and his wife by the elfmage.

"No!" he raged. Legionnaires swarmed around either side of the wall, blocking his passage with their bodies. The stone barrier towered over his head, extending across half the garden to the right and left. Behind him, he sensed Poshtli at the open door.

With a growl of inarticulate rage, Halloran threw back his fist and smashed it into the wall. His knuckles met the granite with stone-crushing force, and the arcane power of his pluma, coupled with the berserk rage of his own strength, shattered the barrier. Leaping through the wreckage like a wild beast, Halloran saw Erix, firmly grasped by four swordsmen, disappear into one of the compartments.

Blinded by his own fury, Halloran stumbled forward. Swordsmen fell away from his path, knowing their fate if they came within reach of his blows.

Suddenly a dark reality penetrated his frenzy, and he saw a rank of legionnaires standing between him and the place where Erix had disappeared. No swords for these, however — this was a line of Daggrande's heavy crossbows.

Blinking, halting in a desperate attempt to regain his self-control, Halloran stared at the figure of his old companion. The grizzled dwarf stared back, the set of his mouth firm. Only his eyes showed his pain. With deliberate speed, he ordered the crossbows, their steel-headed missiles glinting in the magical light, raised.

Don't make me do it, lad! Halloran read the message in the old dwarfs eyes and knew beyond a doubt that a volley of those missiles would mean his death.

"Shoot, fools! He's getting away!" Darien's shrill scream followed Hal through the door as he turned and darted into the safety of the secret passage. Tears of frustration and rage choked him, and he didn't even see Poshtli pull the portal shut behind them.

From the chronicles of Coton:

In dreams, may we find the hope and promise that eludes us awake.

Again the feathered snake came to me in my sleep. The golden couatl, brilliant of plume and mighty of power, circles about, taunting with his near presence, frustrating me as he vanishes before daybreak.

And so the couatl remains a dream, a fantasy specter of hope and significance, all the more miserable because of its empty promise. The clouds of doom gather around Nexal, and the city prepares to bathe in blood.

O' couatl, harbinger of the Plumed One, we need more than your promise now!