Feathered Dragon

15

The summit of the narrow pass loomed as a tight bottleneck in the rugged ridgeline known to the Itza as the Verdant Crest, the range that formed the border of the Far Payit country. Here Gullet: stood with the men of Tulom-Itzi, prepared to make a final stand against the army of ants that had ravaged their city and their lands. Those who could not fight had already proceeded down the western slopes of the range, there to await the resolution of their future.

Climbing the east side of the range, following the tracks of the Itza warriors toward the high pass on the crest, came the steadily advancing swarm of giant ants. Devouring, destroying, and always marching inexorably forward, the monstrous insects swept upward like some malevolent tide. In places, Gultec and his warriors had crossed slopes and valleys of dry brush. These they torched now, in the face of the ants. But the living wave simply swept to the sides of such obstacles, and the few ants who perished in the flames) were left unmourned in the wake of the steady advance.

Through the narrowest valleys they pressed, and up the steepest slopes. The humans outdistanced them, taking temporary refuge in the sheer heights of the range’s central divide. Yet the monsters below and their masters, the driders, had only to look up and they would see their ultimate objective looming before them.

Darien welcomed the chance to battle the humans who had fled before her horde for so long. The fact that the warriors had chosen good ground to defend meant little to her and to her army. What problem were vertical cliffs and sheer heights to creatures that could scale the smoothest shelves of overhanging granite?

The rocky crest stood barren of trees and bushes. Composed mostly of crumbling granite covered with mosses and lichens, the snakelike summit of the ridge towered above the rest of the range. All around, lower ridges, covered with lush foliage, dropped away to the distant, jungled flatlands. The trail from the lower reaches crossed back and forth across the sheer face of this highest ridge until it finally crested the long, rolling peak.

For the last thousand feet of this ascent, the trail broke free of its verdant surroundings, winding in the sunlight and open air through this region of broken, rocky ground. Gultec looked back across the trail below. The slopes to the east dropped steeply away into a flat, dishlike valley. Water and silt had collected in the bottom of this valley, forming a wide, tangled swamp. Hours before, the last of the Itza warriors had pressed through that swamp and made their way up the tortuous trail to this crest,

Gultec knew that the fetid waters of that dank marsh swarmed with snakes and crocodiles, yet he didn’t delude himself into thinking these would provide any obstacle to the ant army. If anything, the tangled vegetation and finger-length thorns sprouting from many a bush would delay the beasts only momentarily. The respite would delay the inevitable attack by a mere few minutes.

Beyond the muck and mire of the marsh, the jungle commenced again, cloaking the lower slopes of the range in green velvet as far as the eye could see. Somewhere within that carpet, Gultec knew, advanced the insect army of his unnatural and terrifying foe.

For a moment, he paused in reflection. He wondered what had corrupted these beasts into their monstrous forms, what had brought them under the command of these other creatures, the man-bugs with their sleek black skin? And what was the secret of that white one, with her bizarre appearance and her shocking powers? Why did all these foul presences work to destroy Tulom-Itzi?

But in the next moment, he shook his head with an angry, self-conscious growl. Why, indeed, did he worry about such things? He was a warrior, and now he had an enemy in war.

It was a cold and implacable enemy, to be sure, all the more! frightening for its complete lack of humanity But never the less it was a problem of war and demanded a warlike solution.

His mind resting once again on firm, familiar ground, Gultec looked around at his warriors. They stood ready all along the crest, though still no sign of their enemy appeared below. They will be here soon enough, Gultec thought grimly.

“Are the others, the women and children, safely away?” Gultec turned to an Itza warrior, a man who had supervised! the further retreat of those who would not be able to fight in this battle.

“They are nearly dead from fatigue, but they are safely off the heights. They have made camp at the western foot of the range.”

Now only the warriors stood along the crest. Proud and alert, the line of men provided the last barrier between the mandibles of the pursuing horde and the people of Tulom-Itzi. Brown bodies lean and muscular after weeks of war-fare and marching, the men of Tulom-Itzi didn’t show their weariness. Their bodies remained taut, their black eyes dark and intent, staring into the murky forest below.

They wore their long black hair pulled back, away from their faces. Unlike other armies of Maztica, no feathered banners fluttered overhead. Aside from Gultec, no man wore the spotted garb of the Jaguar Knight, and there were no Eagle Knights among the Itza at all.

But these men who had been born and lived in peace now proved ready to make a last stand in war. They stood in ranks of ten or twenty. Each rank had gathered a large pile of rocks and boulders nearby. Each man carried a bow and several dozen arrows, all of the precious missiles that the women of the tribe had been able to make.

The warrior beside Gultec cleared his throat nervously “All the old ones and the children are safely down the slope, that is, except Zochimaloc. He insisted that he would see the battle, though 1 tried my best to persuade him otherwise”

Gultec cursed. “Where is he? 1 will speak to him myself!”

The warrior pointed to the old chief. Zochimaloc sat upon a high knob of the ridge, his legs crossed comfortably before him, looking as if he desired nothing more than a few moments of quiet meditation.

Gultec cast another look into the valley below. The file of ants had not yet emerged from the forest, so he judged that he had several hours before the battle would begin. Trotting along the ridgetop, he headed toward his teacher.

“Master,” he said, with a peremptory bow, “you must not remain here! You can add nothing to our defense, and your life must be spared! What will the people do if you perish?”

Zochimaloc smiled, an irritating, patronizing look that nearly brought Gultec’s blood to a boil. “Patience, my son,” said the old man. “You must not talk to your old master this way!”

Gultec flushed. “Forgive me, but I speak strongly to reflect the depth of my concern! What do you hope to gain by remaining here?”

“Remember,” Zochimaloc chided him gently, “that although you have learned many things, you do not know everything. Perhaps there is a surprise or two in this old gray head.

“Or perhaps I simply wish to have a look at what war is like,” the old man concluded with that same smile. “I have never seen it, you know.”

“It is not worth seeing,” replied Gultec. “I thought you knew that.”

Zochimaloc chuckled quietly “There was a time when you would have argued long and hard with yourself over that very point. It is true that your time in Tulom-Itzi has changed you.”

“But you are still the same stubborn old man I first met,” the Jaguar Knight retorted. His deep affection for Zochimaloc would not allow him to speak more directly but he dearly wished that his teacher would depart from the mountaintop.

“If the ants press through,” Gultec continued, trying a different tack, “we will have to flee quickly Even young warriors, fleet of foot, may not survive. How do you expect to

outdistance such monstrous creatures?”

His teacher smiled a trifle sadly “I know enough of war in understand that this mountain is the only place you have. chance of stopping them. If they press through here, what will there be to flee to?

“Now, see,” added Zochimaloc, drawing Gultec’s attention with a pointing finger. “Here they come. Do not worry your self about me, but instead tend to your warriors and your battle. I shall take care of myself.”

The warrior turned to stare into the valley bottom a thousand feet below. He saw a red rank of crawling insects advance from the jungle fringe and press forward into the swamp. More of the segmented bodies surged behind, then still more, and soon it seemed that the earth itself was a crawling mass of festering destruction, creeping toward the base of the cliff.

The ants looked oddly proper from this height, like the tiny insects that they were supposed in he. The Jaguar Knight suppressed a shudder as he tried to imagine the dark and corrupt power that had perverted the creatures into the monstrous horde below him.

Gultec growled in frustration with Zochilmaloc’s stubbornness and in genuine shock at the extent of the insect army. Always before he had seen it as a long, snakelike column stretching into the distance, but to a distance that he could not see.

Now the creatures had massed into a broad front, and still they came forth from the forest. There were many thousands of them, and still they came! How could his line of mere humans hope to stand against such an assault?

At the same time, he knew that they had no choice He trotted back to the center of the line, pausing to pat a warrior on the shoulder here or to speak encouraging words to a young man there. The men of Tulom-Itzi stood ready to fight-and to die.

They watched, tense and fearful but still determined to hold their ground, as the huge creatures forced their way through the entangled brush of the swampy valley bottom* Caught in the tangles, some of the ants hesitated, and these buried by the press of others behind them. Soon the bodies of the slowest sank into the mud, forming a ghastly bridge for the following ranks.

The ants pressed forward, faster and faster as their footing became more secure. Soon they reached the base of the

steep slope- They scrambled ahead and upward without pause, and finally the last of the creatures emerged from the forest. Gultec tried to spot the man-bugs among them, but among the sea of insects, he could see no sign of the larger black bodies-or the white one.

“Archers, stand ready!” he criedA thousand bows tensed, slim arrows tipped with sharks’ teeth, nocked, and pointed downward. The Itza warriors awaited Gultec’s command. Though the ants were still far away, a great portion of that distance dropped away from them, so the Jaguar Knight judged that they were within range.

Now! Shoot!” he called, and the missiles soared into the air. “Keep shooting! Aim for their eyes!”

The insects crept up the mountainside while the shower of arrows rained down. The ants took no note of the steepness of the terrain, clutching the clifflike shoulders of the rock as if they were low obstacles on level ground. Many of the arrows clattered harmlessly from the stony surface of the rock, while others bounced from the laugh, shell-like carapaces of the monsters.

But still others found the vulnerable eyes, or, aided by the momentum from their long descent, struck the upraised heads of the ants and punctured the hard shells. One ant, then another, then many of them altogether slipped backward and tumbled from the rock face, falling among the moving mass of their fellows below.

The archers fired volley after volley, sending the sharp and deadly heads of their missiles into the steadily advancing faces of their foes. But finally, when most of the arrows had been exhausted, the firing tapered off.

Still the ants crawled and crept upward, twitching and grasping as their six-legged forms gripped the nearly vertical surfaces with apparent ease. They crawled over the

knobs and shoulders of the slope’s higher places, gathering in thick red streams to cluster upward in the shallow ravines.

Closer and closer they came, advance seemingly unaffected by the cessation of arrow fire. They climbed at the same methodical, unhurried, yet inevitable pace as they had before.

Only now they were close enough for the Itza warriors to see the flat, translucent surfaces of their many-faceted eyes, close enough to hear the clicking jaws of the creatures’ mandibles, opening and closing hungrily. They climbed steadily and came closer still.

Now Gultec stood ready to unleash the second, and most potent, line of his defense.

“The rocks! Let them go! Push them back to the mud where they belong!”

Instantly the Itza warriors dropped their missile weapons, seizing the great boulders that they had carefully stacked along the ridge. Two or three men combined to 1 move the larger stones, while others hefted good-sized rocks by themselves. As the ants pressed upward, one warrior raised a heavy stone over his head, staggering under the weight, and then pitched the rock with both hands toward the swarming mass below.

A trio of warriors nearby pushed a boulder toward the slope. The missile teetered backward for a moment, but then they heaved mightily. Slowly it toppled forward, and then it rolled over. The rock quickly gathered momentum, plunging and bouncing down the steep-sided ridge.

The stone plummeted some fifty feet and then crashed into one of the highest of the climbing ants. It smashed past the creature, leaving the ant flailing with the three legs on its right side. Its left legs had all been crushed by the boulder, and slowly the monster slipped to the side. In another second, it fell free, toppling unnoticed past the ants that climbed behind it.

The boulder, at the same time, continued its destructive plunge. It crushed the head of another ant, much lower than the first, and then tore through the joint between the

segments of a third. It continued to crash downward, smashing and crunching into anything that lay in its path

through the heart of the ant army. Another boulder tumbled free, followed by a handful of gat-sized stones and large rocks that a single man would raise over his head, pitching it into the insect horde. Beginning as a small clatter, punctuated by a dull roar, the deluge of stones started toward the unnatural enemy below.

All along the line, the men threw and rolled their missiles, until the air resounded with the cracks and crashes of smashing rock. A hail of stones tumbled downward into the faces of the advancing ants. The rocks bounced and crushed their way in sharp descent, careening along the slope of the mountain, some of them cracking and splintering into clouds of debris, while others ricocheted far out into the air, tumbling away from the climbing horde-But many of the boulders rolled true, striking straight into the center of the ant army. They continued downward to crush more heads and snap more legs, cracking the shell-like carapaces and even, occasionally, tearing through an ant and breaking it in twoThe men raised a spontaneous cheer as they saw the attack start to take effect. For the first time, the inexorable advance of the ants seemed to waver. The entire front rank of the ants tumbled away, carried downward by the momentum of the stone storm.

More and more of the boulders crashed downward. Some of these broke away parts of the cliff face itself, and great masses of rock, a few as big as small houses, plunged into the face of the insect horde. More and more of the creatures fell, crushed by the weight of the granite assault.

“See! They fall away!”

“We drive them back!”

“Tulom-Itzi is avenged!”

The normally unwarlike Itza erupted in howls of triumph and cries of savage glee as they saw the bodies of the hated invaders twist and break and fall. A heap of dead and crippled ants formed at the base of the cliff, and still more of the rocks tumbled downward.

Several older males, white-haired and frail yet carrying! sharpened sticks as if they were spears, advanced suspiciously, brandishing their makeshift weapons.

“Who are you? What do you want?” they demanded in the language of the Payit.

“We are travelers, seeking to pass through this country. We journey to Ulatos, and then on to Twin Visages,” Erix answered. “But who are you, a people that we find here without houses or crops?”

The first of the men looked at her suspiciously, and then sighed. “We are the folk of Tulom-Itzi. We have been driven from our city by the horror that comes out of the earth.”

“Tulom-Itzi! But-but that’s where Gultec was called to!” she exclaimed to Halloran. At the knight’s name, the men started.

“Do you know Gultec, Knight of the Jaguar?” the first speaker asked.

“He is our friend and companion,” she replied. “He left us to journey back to Tulom-Itzi after he was called by his master…” She tried to remember the name Gultec had told her. “Zochimaloc?”

“Yes, our great and wise chief.”

‘is he here? Is he alive?”

“He is not here. He was alive this morning, but who knows now? All of our men, led by Gultec, stand at a pass high in the mountains.” The man gestured to the ridgeline. looming high and remote to the east. “There they stand against the horror.”

He went on to explain the nature of the attacking army their flight from the city, and the skirmishes that had pre-; ceded the warriors’ stand at the pass. “Now we have fled until we can flee no more. If the pass is held, we shall remain here. If our warriors are killed, we shall perish soon afterward.”

“We have warriors with us,” Erixitl exclaimed. “Perhaps we can help. How far is the pass you speak of?”

The man gestured again, brightening for a moment but then sighing and shaking his head. “I thank you. The battle may be won or lost by now. We left the warriors hours ago,

and the ants were not far behind.”

Erixitl explained the situation for the others, and Halloran studied the rolling, jungled mountains.

“Monstrous ants!” exclaimed Jhatli. “I am not afraid! I have faced other monsters before. Now let me face these! I will slay them all!”

Luskag turned his eyes to Erixitl, his face an expressionless mask. The revelation of the Sunstone had sent him and his people to her; now, it was clear, he would follow her decision in the matter before them.

Tabub and his diminutive warriors, in the meantime, looked to Halloran. He alone would make the choice that would send them into battle or not.

Erixitl sighed and went to her husband, taking his hand in both of hers and holding it. They didn’t speak for several moments as he looked down at his wife, suddenly afraid. She was full and round with child, and a freshness had returned to her face now that they had left the dry country behind. Halloran thought of their peaceful march and the quiet moments they had enjoyed in the forest along the way.

But always there was the thought of the obstacles before them, and now they came upon the people of their friend, in need of help. There was no choice to be made, really; instead, they simply needed a few moments to grasp the one course of action they could take.

“Gultec crossed half of Maztica to come to us after the Night of Wailing. He led us to the fertile desert,” Hal said softly as Erixitl nodded. Still, the images of horror in his mind caused by the insect army described by the Itza affected him deeply.

“You must stay here,” he continued firmly. “I’ll take the desert dwarves and the Little People. We’ll head up toward the pass and see if we can get there in time.”

“You have to go, I know,” said Erixitl quietly, but with equal firmness. “So you can understand that so, too, do I.”

His objection died on his lips, for she was right. He really “id understand.

Don Vaez entered Ulatos, with full martial pomp, at the head of a marching column of more than fifteen hundred men. Nearly a hundred of these rode prancing chargers and they led the way. The citizens of the city, the greatest metropolis in the lands of the Payit, turned out to stare at the spectacle.

Ulatos stood out proudly from a flat, coastal savannah The wide grassland supported many fields of mayz, as well as small villages near the fringes of the city. But the city itself was the dominant feature of the land.

Tall, colorful pyramids rose throughout. Wide streets, some even paved with stone, separated its buildings. Many of the buildings themselves were made of stone, and even the adobe structures were meticulously whitewashed. Green gardens filled the gaps between many of the structures, and the city was lined with cool bathing pools. Flowers burst in chaotic abundance from bushes that grew at every street corner.

Now all the people from this mighty city gathered along the widest street, an avenue that led directly to the central plaza, where stood the tallest pyramids and the biggest houses. They stood in silence and awe, standing well back from the path of the approaching marchers.

Never had they seen such an awe-inspiring sight! Cordell, at full strength, had brought a mere forty horses and five hundred men.

Now they saw that many crossbowmen alone, followed by several hundred harquebusiers. The latter demonstrated their weapons in the center of the city square, stopping sharply and wheeling left at their captain’s command..

They raised the heavy weapons, each loaded with a full charge of powder-though no shot-and fired a thunderous volley. The report fell like a crash of thunder across the crowd, and the accompanying clouds of smoke instantly concealed the soldiers from view. They smartly faced right and resumed their march, emerging from the cloud with their weapons again braced over their right shoulders. J

Many of the Payits fell back in terror from the explosion more impressive than anything Cordell had shown them.

Then they slowly crept back to watch the grand spectacle.

Don Vaez himself, in a blaze of silken color and long, silver-blond curls, rode a white stallion. The creature reared and trotted, lunging this way and that, as the proud rider led his army through the city’s grand square.

Beside him rode Pryat Devane, and the cleric’s mode of transport impressed the Payits even more than did his commander’s. The cleric of Helm sat cross-legged upon a thin, floating piece of cloth, like a litter of pluma, only much smaller. As the flying carpet darted about, the Mazticans saw that the flight of this foreigner was far faster and more controlled titan any gentle floating of feathermagic.

The priest of Helm looked disdainfully at the savages around him, for he had inherited his mentor’s revulsion toward things Maztican. Indeed, the hatred Bishou Domincus had held for these barbarians and their bloodthirsty gods was one of the primary drives in Devane’s determination to follow in the Bishou’s footsteps. Now he enjoyed the sensation of his own superiority, and he darted the carpet back and forth to terrify and awe the onlooking Mazticans.

All around them were the pyramids, clean structures, many brightly painted, that had once been dedicated to the glory of Maztican gods. Since the city’s fall to Cordell, worship of those gods had been banned from public ceremony, though many citizens doubtlessly continued to worship them in private. Instead of the old temples, statues, and altars that once had honored their heights, the banner displaying the All-Seeing Eye of Helm fluttered from each pyramid.

Caxal, once proud Revered Counselor of Ulatos, had been reduced to a spokesman for the conquered after the battle with the Golden Legion. Now he stepped hesitantly forward to meet this new general, wondering if the nightmare his life had become now grew even darker.

Greetings, Silver One,” he said in common-speech. He used the term that the Mazticans had created for Don Vaez after they had seen the care he took with his shining locks“ And who are you?” asked the commander.

“Your humble servant, Caxal, spokesman for these folk of

Ulatos. Have you come to aid our conqueror, the captain-general?”

Don Vaez evaded the question. “Where is the captain general now? Do you know?”

“He journeyed to Nexal, Silver One, many months ago. There he intended to confront the great Naltecona. There he shall win his greatest victory!”

“Splendid!” replied the rider, with a tight smile. “And when he returns here, I shall be waiting to… reward’ him.”

The houses of Kultaka City stood empty as the streets resounded to the steady cadence of the vast, brutal army. Hoxitl’s column marched into the abandoned community, but well aware of the monstrous advance, the Kultakans had fled into the surrounding hills some days earlier.

Had their army been here, the courageous people might have stood against the onslaught. But the Kultakan force had accompanied Cordell to Nexal and had now been driven far to the south, beyond even knowledge-not to mention rescue-of their homeland.

The great colossus of Zaltec now led the army, and the humans fled from his image in terror whenever it loomed imminent. Hoxitl walked just behind the towering monolith! though his twenty-foot height was dwarfed by the size of Zaltec. The slavering beasts of the Viperhand followed tattle tracks of both monstrous forms.

Ogres and ores smashed through the doors of houses, seeking whatever foodstuffs had been left behind. Objects of gold and silver, plus the few weapons left in the city’s armory, fell into the hands of the brutal invaders.

The trolls scrambled up the stairs of the city’s pyramids, plundering the temples for their objects of value. All of the creatures sought human victims, but there were none to be found.

For the first time, as they pillaged the abandoned city, the creatures of the Viperhand began to work in the units that

Hoxitl had begun to designate. They divided the city into sections, and each area became the property of a great regiment of ores, accompanied by its masters, the ogres. The beasts took a savage joy in working in such brutal teams, and Hoxitl began to instill in them the discipline to remain together in their regiments on the march and in battle.

Finally, after only a few hours of rampaging, Hoxitl summoned the creatures before him once again.

“Creatures of the Viperhand!” The cleric-beast’s voice rolled through the great square, a deep and rumbling command. “We shall not tarry here. Our true target lies on the coast. Only there we will confront our destiny!”

The beasts formed into ranks for their long march, exhorted by their master’s commands. Their brutish faces turned once again to the east, and they started on the long leg of the march that would take them to Payit and Twin Visages.

Before them, as always, lumbered the monstrous monolith of Zaltec. The great stone image had come to represent a mountain of strength to these creatures, and behind an image so mighty, so obviously unstoppable, it’s no wonder that they felt a savage sense of invulnerability. Each of their leader’s footsteps caused the earth to tremble, and the numbers of his army swelled and pressed forward, ready to kill for their master’s pleasure.

Poshtli sensed a change in the ‘s flight as Qotal veered to the side, or coursed downward-or somehow altered his direction. Always that accursed ether surrounded them, and the warrior had no sense of direction or bearing.

“What is it?” he asked.

A summons-a plea, rumbled the great dragon. Someone calls me.

“Who?”

It is one of great power, great wisdom, else I should not be able to hear.

“Can you tell where he is?” Poshtli tried to see through the gray haze, but as always there was nothing there.

In the True World. I cannot go to him, hut I can let him feel my power. The dragon’s thoughts contained determination and regret.

“To help him? How, if you cannot go back there?”

He channels my power through himself.

“Is this a way for you to return? Can Erixitl, perhaps, bring you back this way?”

It is not a return, but a projection of power, and it entails dangers of its own. The Daughter of the Plume could per. haps reach me thus, but I would not ask it.

“Why not?”

Because such a transfer is not without cost-indeed, the cost is tremendously high.

“What is the cost?” asked Poshtli, though he began to suspect.

ft is nothing short of the life of the caller. The dragon began to dive.

Gultec stared in dismay at the climbing insects. A thousand or more of the giant ants lay at the cliff base, killed or broken beyond further menace. But those that still lived far outnumbered the slain, and the Itza warriors’ weaponry had been all but exhausted.

Now they picked up their macas, their spears, their clubs, and their knives. They had no more missiles to cast or to roll, so they could only stand to meet the onslaught with their courage and their strength.

Slowly, distracted by thoughts of his own failure, the Jaguar Knight passed his eyes over the brave warriors who stood with him here at the pass. They knew now that then was no hope, yet none wavered or fled.

“Men of Tulom-Itzi, you make me proud,” he whisperedGultec… hear me well, my son.

The voice came into his mind, though no sound had been carried on the wind. Instinctively he looked to Zochimaloc,

still seated upon the high rock outcrop in the center of the pass. The old man was a great distance away, perhaps two hundred paces, and dust from the rockslide still drifted thickly through the air.

Yet Zochilmaloc’s eyes hovered before Gultec’s face, so clear that the warrior felt he should have been able to touch his mentor’s face.

“What is it, Grandfather?” he asked quietly, understanding without question that his teacher could hear.

Take the warriors now. Fall back down the valley, toward the rest of the people.

“But that is folly! Here is the only place to fight them- here, at the crest of the pass. Perhaps we cannot win, but here we can make them pay for our deaths!”

Hear me and obey, ordered Zochimaloc, his voice thrumming with uncharacteristic strength. This is my command, and it shall be the last J ever give to you.

“What do you mean?” Suddenly Gultec feared for the wise man, his teacher and mentor. Why did he give such a rash order? What could he hope to gain by resuming flight? Surely he understood that the folk of Tulom-Itzi could not flee forever!

Go.

The final word, sent with such a quiet air of confidence, and a hint of sadness as well, removed from Gultec any further desire to argue. The Jaguar Knight raised his hand in a single, sharp gesture, the signal to retreat. He was surprised to note that all the warriors along the ridgetop seemed to be watching him, as if they had sensed his internal debate with their chief.

But unhesitatingly they turned to obey Gultec’s order. swiftly, silently, the men of Tulom-Itzi fell back from the Pass and left Zochimaloc there alone.

The Jaguar Knight was the last to go. As the ants crept steadily up the sloping wall of the high pass, he cast an imploring look at the old man who meant so much to him. But Zochimaloc paid him no more attention.

Slowly Gultec stumbled away nearly sick with grief. Why did his teacher have to remain? He, Gultec, was the warrior-he was the one who should die before the onslaught of their enemies.

Then the Jaguar Knight fell a strange stirring in the ground below his feet. Zochimaloc remained immobile, sitting cross-legged atop his promontory of rock.

The chief of the Itza raised both of his hands over his head. He uttered a strange, ululating cry.

Then Gultec felt the power in the air, and it was the power of Zochimaloc. But it was also the power of the Feathered Dragon