Feathered Dragon

20

The beasts of the Viperhand, guided by the battle-hungry Hoxitl, waited for nightfall to launch their attack, allowing time for the entire monstrous army to gather at the edge of the savannah. The great regiments pushed forward along the coastal trail, and the column gradually expanded into a vast front within the protective jungle.

Cordell, conversely, had been forced to prepare for an assault as soon as the horde reached the fringe of the savannah surrounding Ulatos at noon. His men stood under the blazing Maztican sun throughout the day, ready for battle. But as the hours of afternoon passed into twilight, the battle did not come.

At least, the captain-general realized, they were spared the damage that could have been inflicted by the monstrous image of Zaltec. The stone colossus stood there throughout the waning afternoon, staring above and beyond the savannah and the armies that gathered around its feet. It was as if the humans were too pathetic, too unworthy even of his notice for Zaltec to take the trouble of wiping them out.

Finally, before dusk, the giant stepped onto the savannah, scattering the desert dwarves of Luskag’s tribe, for those unfortunate warriors stood in the god’s direct path. Fortunately the nimble dwarves all raced out of the way of the monstrous footsteps, and Zaltec continued marching steadily to the east.

Cordell, along with the rest of the army, watched him go and felt an unmistakable sense of relief. Still, some of them, including the captain-general, knew that the battle to be fought at Twin Visages was at least as important to their future as the one about to occur here.

The latter, however, was Cordell’s only concern now His troops were in position, though they seemed a pathetically frail line to stem the tide that they knew lurked in the nearby jungle. Desert dwarves, carrying their sharpened weapons of plumastone; tough, veteran spearmen from Tulom-Itzi; halflings armed with shortbows, tipped with the paralytic poison, kurari; an assortment of mercenaries with crossbow, harquebus, sword and buckler, a hundred cavalry; it seemed an oddly diverse core to an army

lb these numerous formations, the city of Ulatos and the lands of the Payit had added seven thousand additional warriors, a total that had pleased and surprised the captain-general. A year ago, the bulk of the Payit army had accompanied Cordell on his disastrous march to Nexal. Though not so accomplished in war as other nations of the True World, the Payits were brave and loyal fighters. Thus, when the one who had conquered them had ordered them to join his ranks, they had done so willingly and without question.

The Payits had made the march with the Golden Legion, participating in Cordell’s successful battle to subdue the Kultakans. That conquered state had then become the captain-general’s ally as well, and a source of great reinforcements in his march on the great city of Nexal. The Pay-its, Kultakans, and legionnaires had all entered the city and taken up residence in its central plaza.

Unlike the Kultakans, however, the Payits hadn’t been fortunate enough to fight their way free of the dying city on the Night of Wailing. They had perished there almost to a man. Now the city of Ulatos and the surrounding countryside had precious few warriors with which to defend themselves.

The defenders’ position stood anchored on the sea, in the strong block of Helmsport. Here one of Don Vaez’s former officers, newly sworn to the service of Cordell, commanded legionnaires-a hundred crossbow and a hundred sword. The fort would provide a refuge for much of the force if the line broke. Here also the commander had posted many of the young magic-users who had come with Don Vaez’s force, the rest of the spell-casters being scattered along the length of the line.

Yet Cordell knew that simply holing up in the fortress and allowing the monsters to rampage freely outside the walls was a defeatist strategy; instead, he formed a long line of resistance stretched across the savannah, with the fort as only the far right end of that line.

The defenders’ position stretched inland from the fortress, nearly a mile to the small village of Nayap. Here Cordell had posted a large block of swordsmen and archers, for the little cluster of houses formed a disruptive obstacle to any attack from the jungle.

Beyond the village, the line curved back to the left for another half a mile until it reached another small village, Actas. Neither of these settlements numbered more than four dozen buildings, and most of these were structures of thatch or adobe. Each contained a small pyramid, however. Though these ceremonial centers were barely twenty-five feet high, Cordell used them as platforms to mount his archers, while men with swords, halberds, and pikes gathered around their bases to protect them in melee.

The entire position, unfortunately, stretched only a third of the way to the city of Ulatos. Interspersed companies of legionnaire crossbowmen and harquebusiers, plus the archers of the Little Men and the Itza, stood along the front. Alternating with them were companies of legionnaire swordsmen and axe-wielding desert dwarves, as well as the companies of Payit spearmen.

Behind the line, Daggrande commanded the reserves, a company of legionnaire veterans armed with axes or shortswords. Beside him, Grimes rode with a hundred-odd horsemen. The chief task of the cavalry would be to prevent the monsters from sweeping around the left flank of the defense.

Throughout the hot afternoon, the defenders had stood ready while the attackers gathered their forces. After the colossal figure of Zaltec marched on to Twin Visages, they expected the attack momentarily. But slowly afternoon faded to dusk, then twilight.

Finally, after full darkness settled across the fields, the men sensed movement in the night. A soft rustling swept through the grass, and then the tread of many heavy feet thudded through the earth.

Suddenly, with shocking abruptness and crushing volume, a great roar arose from the masses of ores and ogres. The beasts rushed from the fringe of the jungle, shaking the ground with the pounding cadence of their charge. Wooden whistles and conch-shell horns added to the din. The ranks hurled themselves into the open, ten great regiments sweeping toward the line on the savannah, rushing through the night toward their rendezvous with death.

Hoxitl remained in the jungle, staring from his treelike height with eyes that took no notice of the darkness. He saw the line of his enemies and the sweeping mass of his own charging troops.

The defenders stared in awe, trembling at the din and trying to steel themselves for the coming clash. It was good, for the sake of their confidence, in any event, that they didn’t know the first awe-inspiring rush came from but a third of Hoxitl’s entire force.

Moments after the attack commenced, light spells suddenly dispelled the night as the smattering of young mages among Don Vaez’s expedition cast their weak magic, serving a vital function.

Instantly the archers of Tulom-Itzi launched the first volley of their missiles. The sharks-tooth heads penetrated bodies of ores and ogres and trolls. Several of the lumbering creatures fell, and again and again volleys of deadly arrows flew.

Next came the heavy dunk of crossbow fire, and a volley of heavy quarrels darted like steel scythes into the face of the foremost regiment. Even huge ogres grunted or doubled over in pain, while the smaller ores often fell dead. slain by a single bolt.

Then a sharp crash, like explosive thunder never heard in Maztican battle before, erupted from the harquebusiers. A cloud of gray smoke instantly blossomed among them, but not before lethal balls of lead shot thudded into the enemy.

The crude muskets dropped many an ore, but the wielders had to lower their weapons after the first volley. The charge came on too fast for them to reload.

Finally the Little People launched their darts. The tiny arrows were little more than pinpricks to the hulking beasts, but they could not so easily ignore the kurari venom smeared on the tips of the little arrows.

A spearhead of trolls led the attack, forty of the gangly beasts, claws outstretched, their ghastly faces split by grimaces of battle hatred. On each, the pulsing crimson brand of the Viperhand stood out from the scaly green skin on the creature’s chest,

The bolts and arrows and lead balls that struck the trolls occasionally knocked the creatures down, but invariably the monsters crawled back to their feet, plucked the missiles from their bodies, and charged forward in the wake of their companions’ attack.

The first trolls hit a company of mercenary swordsmen. Heavy green fists bashed shields out of the way, while cruel talons and fangs sought human flesh. The men stood for a brief moment, chopping and hacking, only to see the wounds they inflicted in the trolls’ skin heal almost as soon as the dripping blades came free.

The fight raged with chaotic savagery as small bands of men fought for their lives against the much larger trolls. Shouts of warning and cries of rage split the night, as well as the shrieks and groans of the wounded. Weapons clashed against shields with ringing force, while the howls and bellows of the trolls rose above all, adding a monstrous and inhuman cast to an already nightmarish scene.

Swordsmen fell dead, ripped to pieces by the fangs and talons of the trolls, while some of the monsters limped and crawled back from the fight to allow deep wounds to regenerate. But the latter returned, while the former were lost forever, and this began to turn the tide of the melee.

Finally the company of swordsmen collapsed, just as the ten thousand ores, heavy with the momentum of their charge, crashed into the rest of the line.

Howling and shrieking madly, each tusk-faced creature

inflamed by the burning of his own crimson brand, the ores struck with brute force. Their macas and clubs hammered into the shields of the defenders as rear ranks instantly stepped forward to fill the multitude of gaps formed by their fallen comrades.

“There!” bellowed Daggrande. He saw the trolls burst through the line. The mass of green split into two groups, wheeling to the right and left, respectively.

The first group faced the flank of Tabub’s diminutive archers. The Little Men turned and showered the trolls with arrows as Luskag and the desert dwarves extended their line to protect the front of the halflings against the charging ores. The monsters cursed and howled in pain as the tiny arrows pricked them. Several of them, those that had been hit many times, suddenly stiffened with reflexive gasps and then collapsed to the ground, motionless and rigid.

The reserve company rushed forward, surging into contact with the second group of trolls. Daggrande chopped his axe into the back of one of the creatures, driving it to its knees. Savagely the dwarf attacked the troll, his blade delivering a hailstorm of blows. He left the troll a mangled mass on the grass, while the last rank of the reserve company stopped to shower the corpse with oil and touch a flame to it. In moments, a pyre of stinking black smoke marked the demise of the troll.

Around Daggrande, other veteran soldiers attacked with halberds or long, two-handed swords. The trolls fought back savagely, and many a brave warrior fell before their talons or drooling, wicked fangs. But the persistence of the dwarf’s company, coupled with their skillful use of fire, finally began to drive the trolls back.

Daggrande knew the breach had been stemmed-for now.

Behind the dwarf, Grimes saw one of the monstrous regiments swing wide of the defenders’ line, starting a great wheel around the entire flank.

“Charge!” Grimes cried, gesturing with his sword. The horsemen, in five companies of twenty, surged into a broad line. Lances lowered, they plunged into the regiment of ores, scattering the creatures beneath their hooves, breaking them into panicked remnants.

The ogres stood firm, clubs upraised, before the rush. But the deadly lances found these, and many a hulking monster shrieked in mountainous pain before falling to the earth before a charging rider. Desperately the dying monsters struggled to hold their torn bodies together as the last remnant of their life fluid seeped over the ground.

The horses wheeled and rode back, wracking the regiment again, trampling the survivors beneath the crushing hooves. The surviving ores broke and fled toward the shelter of the jungle. Grimes, minus a few of his riders, pulled the horsemen back behind the line.

Another regiment pressed forward, pushing around to the roar of the village of Nayap. Payit spearmen resisted. them courageously, even felling several ogres with their long, obsidian-tipped weapons. But then a dozen trolls ripped into the center of the warriors’ line, and in moments, the whole company fled in disorder.

Howling in triumph, the monstrous formation rushed to fill the gap and encircle the village. But then a small form darted across the sky, soaring over the onrushing beasts.

Pryat Devane rode his flying carpet at high speed, bringing the little platform to a sudden stop when he reached a position a hundred yards in front of the charging regiment.

“By the power of Helm, I call a plague upon you!” he shouted, raising his metal gauntlet and pointing to the first monstrous rank.

In the next moment, the buzzing, hissing, and clicking of millions of insects rose across the plain, competing with the din of battle in its intensity. Immediately the leading ogres howled in pain and surprise, slapping at their skin and twisting grotesquely in an effort to escape.

Wasps, bees, hornets, flies-all manner of stinging insects flew among the monsters, and instantly the momentum of the attack vanished. All the beasts could think about was escape, and the entire regiment dissipated as the creatures raced in every direction to escape the insect plague. Some of

them tumbled through the ranks of a neighboring regiment, one that pressed against Nayap itself, and for a little while the weight of that savage attack eased.

For long, bloody minutes, the battle stood in terrible balance. Humans, ores, dwarves, ogres, halflings, horses, and trolls, all bled into the dark earth, beneath the encloaking clouds that blacked out even the slightest glimpse of stars or moon.

Hundreds of lives expired. Companies of ores or humans, decimated by battle, turned to flee. Others on each side expanded their fronts to cover gaps thus exposed. An exhausting, costly equilibrium held along the front.

Then another horrifying sequence of whistles and bellows erupted from the forest. The din of the battle faded to insignificance against the cacophony of fresh strength symbolized by that throaty, hungry roar.

More hulking shapes emerged from the forest, their shadows spreading across the savannah. Another powerful wave of destruction, they pressed toward the cringing shore as Hoxitl throw another ten regiments into the fight.

Erixitl stumbled forward, helped by Colon and Halloran. They made their way slowly down the shore toward Twin Visages on foot, since the ground in places was too rough for safe travel by horseback. Jhatli led Lotil by the hand.

They followed the coast, since all the paths through the jungle from Ulatos to Twin Visages were obscure and difficult to follow. The shoreline route took longer but was far more certain.

“It’s not much farther,” Erix said finally, after hours of marching. The sun neared the western horizon, and now they strived to reach their goal by nightfall.

Halloran remembered the place called Twin Visages, the place where he and Erixitl had met. It had seemed even then to be a place of dire portent and deep, abiding power. Now it fell like the focus of his world, the place toward which all his roads had been leading.

“When we get there, do we climb the pyramid?” he asked. That structure, much smaller than the one in Tewahca seemed hardly large enough to support the massive dragon they had glimpsed, so briefly, in the City of the Gods.

“Yes.”

“And the god will arrive there?” Halloran asked.

“I think so,” Erix replied. She shook her head in frustration. “I don’t know! I can only do what seems right’”

She gasped in sudden pain and bent double. “It’s… all right,” she said, pushing herself along.

The ground rose beneath them as they moved onto the bluff that formed the broad headland of the point. Silently they walked on, pushing along the fringe of brushy ground between the deep jungle and the sheer drop toward the wave-battered shore below.

Then Halloran stopped, raising a hand before him and soundlessly pointing. Erix looked and saw it, too, even though the moon had set an hour before. She would never forget that horrible place where she had come so close to death.

Before them stood the squared bulk of the pyramid and Twin Visages- Beyond, etched in streaks of sunset, stretched the lagoon and the endless ocean. They couldn’t see the top of the pyramid, but the last rays of the sun brightened the side facing them.

Erixitl groaned again in sudden pain. With a gasp, she grabbed her belly and sank slowly to the ground.

Flames exploded into the dark sky from one after another of the huts of Nayap. Metal-armored soldiers from Amn fought desperately for each square foot of ground, making the beasts pay for every forward step with one, two, a dozen lives. But the monstrous army could afford the price.

Finally the defenders gathered around the pyramid attacked on three sides by a howling, slavering mass. Fire and ash and smoke drifted around the squat structure, though the din of battle drowned any sound of the blaze.

A great ogre bulled his way onto the steps of the pyramid, crushing the skull of a metal-helmed soldier with a blow of his heavy club. Laying about him to the right and left, the beast lumbered up several steps. A swordsman leaped at it from the side, driving a steel blade deep into the beast’s thigh. With a howl, the ogre turned, seizing the courageous soldier as the monster tumbled down the steps, crushing the life out of the man during the brutal fall.

In the meantime, a thousand ores-a full regiment of the beasts-pressed around behind the village. The insect plague cast by the cleric had dissipated by now, and the few warriors who stood in the regiment’s path had been brushed easily aside.

Even as the defenders fought courageously to hold their key outpost to the last, the monstrous advance slowly cut them off from all retreat. In the smoke and the chaos of the night battle, this maneuver went undetected until it was too late. Abruptly the men on the pyramid realized that the village had been taken around them and that all connection with the rest of their army had been severed.

And now the breach in the pyramid’s defense had been opened. More ogres, followed by ores, rushed onto the side of the structure. The archers atop the pyramid poured a deadly fire into the creatures’ faces, sending many of them tumbling back. But others-others without number, seemingly without fear-advanced from the darkness to take their places, and slowly the beasts pressed higher up the four sloping sides of the pyramid.

The arrows of the defenders couldn’t last forever, and when the last missile was exhausted, the archers drew their short swords and prepared to die fighting. Now, with the village in flames around them, the pyramid cut off by the ores behind it, they could think no longer of escape. They could only fight and die like the men they were. In another moment, the last of them fell, and a dozen ores howled their triumph from the top of the structure.

Back! Fall back!” Cordell shouted the command, and trumpets brayed in echo. Along his line, decimated by the first phase of the battle, the exhausted fighters pulled away

from the equally exhausted monsters. The second rank of Zaltec’s attack rushed across the muddied ground, still a mile from the withdrawing defenders.

Nayap, the foremost village in the defensive line, now spouted smoke and ash, a funeral pyre for the men who had died there. Indeed, the only men remaining in the village were those who were dead.

“Where to?” grunted Grimes, riding beside the cap general.

“Hold Actas” The captain-general pointed to the v that formed the inland end of his line. “Hold it at all but we’ve got to shorten the line! Keep your riders ready watch our flank!” Cordell gestured to Daggrande, who trotted over to him.

“Divide your men into two companies,” the commander ordered. “If all else fails, you’ll have to cover our withdrawal into the fort.”

“All right,” grunted the dwarf, grimacing at the thought of splitting his already depleted company. He saw the line shortening as the companies of Mazticans and foreigners drew closer together, filling in the gaps left by their fallen comrades.

The second wave of the monstrous attack now rumbled through the line of the first battle, knocking their own battered comrades aside. The beasts lumbered through the smoldering ruins of Nayap, paying no attention to the bodies around them, uncaring even whether the fallen had been human or their own bestial kin.

Some of the survivors of the first attack, the most aggressive among the monsters, joined in the second wave, and a powerful force of ores, ogres, and trolls rushed toward the narrowed band of defenders.

Once again the shower of arrows, the thunder of the harquebusiers, the speeding darts of crossbow and halfling, took their bloody toll of the attackers. But now there were fewer missiles and more monsters. The effect could only be lessened.

The first of the attacking regiments crashed into the thin rank of the desert dwarves under Luskag. But here the monsters, who towered over their diminutive opponents, as well as outnumbered them, met a rude surprise.

The dwarves ducked low at the first impact of the charge, darting beneath the shields and raised weapons of the attackers. Their keen weapons, with the razorlike edges of plumastone, struck upward, and hundreds of ores reeled backward, screaming and wailing in agony. The wounded monsters fell and writhed and died, and the desert dwarves attacked their ogre masters, slicing and slashing with their murderous blades of shiny black stone.

Even the ogres fell as the nimble dwarves twisted around them, evading the heavy but clumsy blows of the monsters. In moments, the entire regiment fell back, the beastly faces of its troops distorted by fear of these small, ferocious slayers. The shrewd Luskag, however, allowed only a moment’s pursuit before calling his warriors back into line.

Other regiments of Hoxitl’s horde turned from their advance to press the desert dwarf force with renewed vigor. This could have proven a critical weakening of the cleric-beast’s attack, except that nowhere else along the line were the defenders prepared to resist so sturdily as in that portion manned by the desert dwarves.

On this assault, two of Hoxitl’s great regiments swung wide of the line, passing around the far village of Actas. The rest of the force lumbered into the thin line, and once again the defenders struggled to hold.

Cordell looked to his left as a series of torches waved through the field. A small band of Payit warriors, concealed in the grass before Actas, held up the suddenly blazing brands. In the yellow light, the commander saw the movement of the monsters that attempted to move past the village.

“Grimes! Slow them up!” shouted the captain-general, and his commander of horsemen immediately urged his steed forward.

The lancers once again swept around the end of the defenders’ line in order to prevent a flanking movement such as they had earlier destroyed.

The cavalry thundered forward, ripping into the ranks of

the monstrous regiments. First one, then a second of the ‘ formations turned and scattered under the onrush. The horsemen wheeled, lances and swords lowered, and started toward the flank of a third regiment.

But here the monsters changed tactics. As Grimes led the riders forward, the ores suddenly broke into three huge blocks. The beasts in each block pivoted on all four sides, so that everywhere they faced outward. The horsemen rode into the side of one of these crude squares, trampling many of the monsters.

The formation, however, did not break. Slowly, grimly, the beasts of the Viperhand fought the riders who now bucked and trampled in their midst. These creatures did not turn and expose their vulnerable backs; instead, they attacked, slashing viciously at the legs and flanks of the pitching horses.

Turning and plunging, the riders tried to work free. The steeds reared and trampled, while the horsemen hacked about with their bloody blades. Finally, with a lunge between two huge ogres, Grimes drove his stallion free of the melee, beheading one of the ogres as he raced past. The rest of the riders followed, quickly widening the gap made by their captain.

Elsewhere, the leading regiments smashed into the thin line of Cordell’s defenders. Daggrande threw one, and then the second, of his reserve companies into the line, each time barely stopping a critical breakthrough.

Magic missiles crackled on die right flank, where the two dozen mages who had come with Don Vaez sniped at the enemy from the walls of Helmsport itself. The din of magic and fire, of death and destruction, crashed across the field, rising to a nightmarish crescendo.

Desperately the horsemen charged again, slashing and chopping their way into, and then free of, the monstrous ranks. Another regiment hurled itself at the riders, threatening to surround them again, and it took all of Grimes’s leadership and courage to break his men free of the enemy. Even so, they left dozens of their number behind.

Every man, every dwarf and halfling, fought for his life in this night without end. The cloud cover thickened, the light spells waned, and they fought on in nearly total darkness. Somehow the desperation to live gave them enough vision to combat the pressing horde.

Again and again the riders slashed at the fringe of the attacking mass, always springing away before the jaws of another trap could snap shut. Crossbows and steel swords drank deep of monstrous blood, while the boom of a harquebus occasionally cracked across the field.

The kurari-tipped arrows of the Little Men found the trolls, for they had learned that these weapons, when they struck with adequate numbers, could actually slay the hulking green beasts that simply regenerated after suffering other types of wounds. The plumastone axes of the desert dwarves chopped and gouged, holding great presses of ores at bay.

Then another great cry erupted from the forest, piercing the night with its promise of catastrophe. Whistles and horns and drums added to the din, and the legionnaires and the other defenders knew clearly that the noise sounded an end to their hopes.

And inflamed the desires of Hoxitl, for now the lord of the beasts threw his final ten regiments into the battle.

“Hsst! There’s something out there!” Darien could scarcely control the savage joy in her voice. The light.’ The treasure she had so long envisioned, the killing she had lusted for, at last drew near.

The other driders huddled on the platform atop the pyramid, thankful that the moon had already set. Like shadows of black thicker even than the forest, they clung to the edges of the structure and peered into the murky forest surrounding them.

“It comes from Ulatos, from the city,” said Hittok after a moment. Darien, too, sensed that the menace lay to the west.

Gradually the driders’ keen eyes detected the shapes moving from the jungle into the near pitch-blackness of (he clearing. In Darien’s sight, one of these glowed, so brightly that she could scarce dare to breath. Against that halo of hot, tempting light, she could not make out the identity of the treasure.

But already she began to savor the thought of its death.

“Shall we strike them down with arrows?” asked Hittok, his voice a bare breath of wind against Darien’s perspiring cheek.

“No!” In her agitation, she spoke louder than she had in-tended. The driders held their breath as the humans below hesitated, but it was not Darien’s remark that had alerted them.

Staring into that light, Darien saw that one of the humans moved slowly, as if in pain. Then she began to see… it was her, Halloran’s woman! She was the burning force that! tempted the drider’s appetite.

“No,” the white creature hissed, softly this time, “No arrows. We shall await them here, and when they start up the steps, we shall attack.”

“Very well,” said Hittok, slinging his bow over his shoulder and pulling forth his dark, black sword.

“And know this,” Darien cautioned, tension again ringing.; in her voice. “All of you remember: When we attack, the woman is mine!”

Erixitl collapsed with an inarticulate groan of pain. She curled up into a ball of misery, wincing from the pain of a I sudden contraction.

“The baby!» she whispered. “Now is the time!”

Halloran’s mind went blank. All during the march, through the months in the desert and jungle, during their entire epic journey to Ulatos, he had been telling himself, preparing for this event. But now that his wife lay here in agony, he couldn’t think of a thing to do.

“The pyramid!” said Lotil quietly. “We must take her up the pyramid!”

Halloran looked at the blind man in astonishment. “That has to wait!” He turned back to his wife. “We’ll get you back to the woods, to some mossy clearing. It’s going to be all right!”

“No!” Erixitl’s voice carried surprising strength. “Lotil is right. We must go up the pyramid!”

Halloran looked from daughter to father in astonishment. His eyes met Coton’s, and the cleric looked at him with an expression of deep understanding-but also of steely-eyed will. Halloran knew that they had to ascend the steep stairway with Erixitl. The destiny that had driven them this far now compelled her presence atop the looming structure.

“The baby!” he protested. “We must get her to shelter and make her comfortable!”

“Listen!” Erix gasped, her teeth clenching. “On the pyramid! Take me to the altar!”

Halloran stared at her in disbelief. It was the same altar where she had so nearly met her own death! What if this was the cost of the god’s return, a ghastly sacrifice of his wife or his child?

“No!” Hal couldn’t allow it. He stood firmly against the men, but he couldn’t ignore his wife’s groan, and when he looked down at her and saw the pleading in her eyes, he was lost. “Very well,” he said quietly, kneeling beside her again.

“The pain has passed for the moment,” said Erix, slowly sitting up and climbing to her feet. “Let’s go!”

Jhatli led them toward the base of the stairway. Around them, the deep black of the night closed in, past moonset, as a last shroud of darkness before the first traces of dawn. Feeling his way rather than seeing anything in particular, he started up the stairs.

He had taken no more than four steps when strong, sinewy arms grasped him. A hand clapped roughly across his mouth, and insistent arms pulled him against a body.

A body covered by a hard, bony shell.