Ironhelm

HELMSPORT

"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.

"The headman, Caxal, is here, General," explained the dwarf.

"Did he bring anyone with him?"

"Yes, sir. He's brought several of his fellows to tell you about that city, Nexal." The dwarf gestured toward the inner courtyard of the building that had once been Caxal's house.

Cordell quickly strode through the vine-fringed archway. He found Caxal seated on a stone bench, with six men resting on the ground beside him. The captain-general paused long enough to allow Darien to catch up and take position beside him. Meanwhile, the Payits all flung themselves on the earth and pressed their foreheads to the ground.

The rest of Cordell's captains, Garrant and the commanders of the longbows and spearmen, joined them here. Kardann, too, hurried to catch up, wheezing for breath but quickly readying his quill and scroll as Cordell spoke.

"I want you to tell me anything you know about the land of Nexal, both the people and the city itself. I will not harm you. I will reward those who share their knowledge with me. Now, speak."

Cordell paced back and forth beside a flower-studded lily pond, dictating his words for Darien to translate. The men remained kneeling on the grass before the captain-general.

"You." He addressed a tall man who wore a humble white mantle. "Have you been there?"

"Indeed, Most Commanding Lord. The city of Nexal is the greatest city in all the True World. Beside it, Ulatos is nothing more than a squalid collection of hovels."

"And gold?" prodded Cordell. "Do the Nexalans have gold?"

"Oh, yes, Most Magnificent Conqueror! The most humble of lords wears plates upon his chest, ear and lip plugs of solid gold. They collect gold in tribute from all the tribes they have conquered.

"The marketplace of Nexal is like no other place in the world, Supreme One! The markets alone cover a plaza the size of this entire city. There will Your Magnificence find more gold, feathers and turquoise, pearls and jade, all manners of treasures, sorcerous things, objects of feathermagic and talonmagic.

"There, too, are the great treasuries! Naltecona's alone, concealed somewhere in his palace, holds more valuables than our entire humble city. And each of his counselors has built a palace, and each has such a storeroom, never opened in the long history of Nexal!"

"How do you know of all this, man?" The captain-general grew suspicious at the extent of the man's enthusiasm, but the native hastily and abjectly explained.

"I have traded with the Nexalan merchants, the potec, who travel all Maztica. They sometimes come to Payit, especially for cocoa and plumage that cannot be found in less verdant lands. They talk freely of their city, and they tell how they must pay taxes to Naltecona for his treasure room, just as their fathers were taxed by Naltecona's father.

"Once I journeyed to Nexal with a band of potec, and lived a year in that grand city. I spent long days in the marketplace, bartering and learning their ways."

"What of their army?"

"The warriors of Nexala are more numerous than the grains of sand on the shore," answered the trader. "They have prevailed over all their foes, conquering all of their neighboring nations save one. That one, Kultaka, has fighters who are as fierce, if not as numerous, as the Nexalans."

"This city, Nexal… is it walled?"

"It is protected by lakes on all sides, O Hallowed Warrior. You must cross long causeways to reach the city, and each of these has many wooden sections that can be removed. It is a city of canals and plazas and avenues. There are no walls surrounding it."

Gradually the others confirmed or embellished upon the trader's story. Most of the details referred to colorful murals, grand temples, and bloody gods. None could accurately estimate the size of the Nexalan army, but by all accounts, it made the Payit force look like an understrength regiment by comparison.

Cordell also gained an approximate understanding of the city's location, thanks to a map of many colors, with surprisingly detailed terrain features, drawn by the trader. After the natives had been rewarded with glass beads and ushered out, the captain-general turned to his followers.

"Daggrande, how does the loading progress?"

"The gold was finally loaded this morning, General. A share to each ship."

"Splendid. We will remain here for one more day to allow the men some more opportunity to enjoy our fruits of victory!"

"May I ask," Kardann began hesitantly, "has the captain-general considered the suggestion that we return to Amn for reinforcements? With the treasure we have already gained, the council would be sure to fund a much larger fleet!" Several captains nodded and muttered assent to the suggestion.

"The legion moves west!" barked Cordell. "We have barely scratched the surface of the opportunities here. Don't you know that once we return home, every small-time wizard and copper-plate pirate on the Sword Coast will head for Maztica?"

"Surely the base you speak of will serve as ample protection of our claims! You can leave a force to hold the fortress until the fleet returns with more men!"

"I fear your understanding of tactics is not as great as your counting of numbers, my good assessor." The commander spoke gently, hoping to humiliate the accountant rather than browbeat him. Captain Daggrande grinned at the jibe, but Cordell was mildly alarmed to note that several other captains seemed to be taking Kardann all too seriously. "Were we to abandon this shore now," he pressed, "we would stand to lose all that we have gained so far. These people will only understand our mastery if we hold it before them, not just for a day or a week but for months, perhaps years!"

Kardann started to sputter, but Cordell silenced him with a look. "By the time that happens, I intend to have the entire land under the banner of the Golden Legion!" He paused to make sure they understood the depth of his commitment.

"Make the most of your day here," he suggested breezily. "We toil again very soon, this time upon the building of Helmsport!"

Gultec's stomach growled again, and the lanky jaguar rose and stretched in feline bliss. He rested upon a massive bough, high above the jungle floor. Sitting up, he cleaned himself thoroughly. His hunger was present, but not yet urgent.

Eventually the spotted cat sauntered down the branch, springing easily to a lower limb, and down again into the crotch of a neighboring tree. His nostrils twitched, alert for the spoor of game.

Gultec made his way along the middle level of jungle branches, avoiding the tangle upon the ground but remaining well camouflaged among thick foliage. For perhaps an hour, he hunted, catching the scent of nothing edible.

Lengthening shadows stretched through the small open patches in the deep jungles of Far Payit. The jaguar's spotted form moved among the shadows, his orange and black pelt blending perfectly with the gathering darkness. His stomach started to growl uncomfortably.

By now the great cat skulked through forests far removed from Ulatos. He had worked his way southward, hunting and prowling and sleeping as occasion demanded. Now he was farther south than he had ever been before, in a region of Payit little known to the city dwellers of Ulatos.

Gultec began to move with unaccustomed urgency, for the hunting had been lean for several days now. Hunger prodded him along, sometimes through the trees and occasionally along the twisting trails below. He pounced on a small rodent and devoured it in one gulp, but the tiny meal did little to sate his appetite.

Perhaps it was the urgency of his hunger that made him careless. It had been many days since he had encountered any sign of humans, and thus his vigilance was relaxed. The great cat need worry about no other enemies, for even the powerful hakuna generally took no note of another feline predator.

In any event, Gultec slipped silently along a trail as night fall settled around him. His padded paws fell silently on the soft grass of the ground. Every few steps, the great cat paused to sniff the air and look around.

Impatient, he picked up his pace to a trot. Once an irritated growl even rumbled from his throat before he recalled the need for stealth. As he paced along the trail, he heard something rustling ahead. A current of breeze carried to him the delightful scent of a plump turkey — food enough to fill the great cat's belly.

Gultec crouched and crept forward, slinking soundlessly on his belly. There! He saw the turkey, standing oddly still at the base of a great tree. The bird fluttered and twisted, but it did not move from its location. Even Gultec's keen eyes did not see the narrow tether holding the bird in place.

With one lightning bound, Gultec sprang toward the bird. His attack was planned perfectly. He would land once, ten feet from the bird, and instantly spring again for the kill.

His paws settled to earth, already preparing to push him forward, but the earth proved yielding, crashing away beneath his weight. With a screech of feline rage and panic, Gultec fell through the network of branches concealing the deep pit and plummeted to the bottom with a heavy thud.

Instantly the jaguar sprang at the sides of the pit, his powerful muscles carrying him upward a prodigious distance before the steep, smooth walls sent him tumbling back down. Again and again the cat hurled himself toward the top of the pit, and again and again he fell back.

Finally, exhausted and ravenous, he settled into a crouch. His unblinking eyes stared upward at the night sky, beginning to sprout stars above his pit. For all his rage and all his strength, Gultec could not deny that he was trapped.

Several dozen men remained in Ulatos, while the rest of the legion moved to the sheltered anchorage barely three miles away. There construction of Fort Helmsport began as two hundred legionnaires, armed with pick and shovel, assaulted the rocky crest a short distance from the sandy shore. Darien used a powerful earth-moving spell to begin a jetty out into the lagoon, and now men labored with wheelbarrows and shovels, extending the pier into deeper water. The wizard and the captain-general, meanwhile, moved from the palace to their quarters aboard the Falcon.

Late at night in this luxurious cabin, two figures lay in the great bed. Cordell snored deeply, while Darien lay wide awake, her pale eyes staring across the cabin, her elven senses seeing everything despite the pitch darkness.

A sense of danger gripped the elf woman, and she sat up in the bed. Something unseen warned her of attack, and she placed her feet on the floor. Her robe, with its many packets of spell components, hung beside her.

Suddenly a gust of wind rushed through the crack under the cabin door. Darien's keen vision, unnaturally sensitive to such conjured creatures as the invisible stalker, recognized the thing instantly. In the next moment, she perceived its intent.

The stalker reached out for her, a sudden gust of wind whirling in the cabin, extending invisible but powerful tendrils of air toward Darien. She sensed immediately that it wanted to kill her.

But Darien's spell was ready. She spat, her saliva flying toward the invisible attacker. " Dyss-ssymmi!" she cried, raising both hands before her face.

With a horrible sucking sound, the wind twisted into a vortex and whirled in an ever smaller cyclone in the center of the room. It writhed as it shrank and then puffed into nothingness. Her spell of dismissal, she knew, had sent it back to the plane of air.

Cordell had awakened at the sound of her spell, and now he stretched an arm around the elf woman, amazed and impressed by her calm demeanor.

"What was that?" he asked. He sat up in the bed, blinking. He had seen nothing of the attacker, though he had heard the wind.

"My stalker. It has failed to kill Halloran, thus it sought me out instead. It is a risk of the spell." Darien shrugged, the attack already forgotten except for its implications.

"And this means Halloran still lives. If he had perished from the poison, the stalker would not have come after me. It would simply have gone away."

Cordell flopped backward with a sigh. "Helm's damnation! That lad makes things very difficult."

Darien squinted in anger, an expression Cordell could not see. "Difficult, perhaps. But he will not escape!"

"What makes you so certain?"

"Where can he go? We have control of Ulatos, and through the city, we can keep tabs on the entire nation. Sooner or later, someone is bound to report him. He'll probably leave a whole wealth of stories behind everywhere he goes." Darien leaned over Cordell, gently pressing him back on the bed.

He grinned. "Come closer. I'd like to hear you scheme some more." And he pulled her down to him.

"There is no way that I can repay the kindness you have shown me. It has meant my life, and much more, to me." Poshtli bowed deeply to Luskag, blinking and finally looking to the side. The golden dot still burned before his eyes.

But the vision had been worth the price. If he could but complete the tasks before him, a city, a whole people, might be saved.

"You have been a worthy companion, Poshtli of Nexal," said Luskag sincerely. The dwarf mopped the sweat from the top of his bald head, then reached into a quiver slung at his belt.

"I would like you to take these on your journey," he said, offering Poshtli six slender arrows. The Eagle Knight took the gifts reverently, bowing deeply.

The arrows bore no marks to distinguish them, but each was perfectly straight, made from an exceptional reed. The heads were of shiny obsidian, deftly chipped from flawless rock. Tiny fluffs of feather marked the tail of each arrow, and though the feathers were small, it was here that Poshtli sensed the true strength of the gift.

The desert dwarf chieftain and a score of his dusty, suntanned warriors had gathered in the center of Sunhome to bid farewell to the stranger, one of only a handful of humans ever to have found Sunhome, according the Luskag. Many of them had come seeking the Sunstone, but only a few had departed alive.

The village itself was simply a circle of ground-level cave homes around the inside of a box canyon. A clearing in the center of the canyon floor had long ago been smoothed, and here Poshtli nodded to the others, then turned back to Luskag.

The Eagle Knight wore his full regalia, black-and-white-feathered cape and beaked helmet, with his bow and arrows, his spear, and his maca all suspended from his belt or harness.

Suddenly Poshtli whirled around in a circle. The desert dwarves scurried backward as he raised his arms, causing the feathered cape to swing in a wide circle. Then he squatted and beat his wings, falling several feet and then swooping above the ground.

The Eagle Knight enjoyed the stunned expressions on the faces of the dwarves. His wings beat steadily as his sleek form circled, climbing into the canyon above Sunhome. He cried a challenge and a farewell that echoed through the canyon long after he soared from sight. A cold mountain up-draft lifted him and carried him eastward.

Poshtli flew steadily toward the sunrise, as his vision had shown him.

Vast reaches of land passed below him, and desert slowly turned to savannah, then mountains, and finally jungle. The eagle subsisted upon the power of pluma, for Poshtli did not stop to eat nor to sleep, though the sun rose and set during his flight.

He flew on through the damp, heavy air above the jungles of Payit, and now his muscles thrummed with renewed energy. He sensed the goal of his flight in the distance. Somewhere ahead he would find the green pyramid.

Halloran and Erix pressed through the forest for a full day, gasping through hot, moist air and ignoring a surrounding swarm of biting insects. Occasionally they found a narrow trail and mounted Storm, while Corporal trotted ahead or behind. The dog panted constantly in the heat, and Hal began to wonder if the greyhound could keep up for long.

They tried to work their way inland as much as possible, avoiding human settlements. Hal felt that any pursuit by the legion would come along the shore, the only terrain suitable for horsemen over any stretch of distance. Indeed, sometimes he considered abandoning the loyal mare, but he always discarded the idea, hacking extra-hard at the ubiquitous vines to open a passage large enough for Storm.

Finally the long day came to an end, and they collapsed in exhaustion. They camped in a place indistinguishable from all the surrounding jungle, a space between two tree trunks, with the overhanging vines and drooping ferns hacked away. It was all Halloran could do to pull the saddle off Storm before collapsing on the ground. Corporal already snoozed, albeit with an occasional whimper or twitch.

They had not found fresh water all day, but Erix found several thick-stemmed plants. When cut, these yielded a precious trickle of water. After a minimal meal of beans and mayzcakes, Erix fell asleep.

Halloran once again pulled open Darien's spellbook and tried to force himself to concentrate on the pages. The words still seemed distant and indistinct. Though he had cast the magic missile spell against Alvarro, he found himself struggling and failing in his attempt to relearn it. The light spell was a little, but not much, more familiar. Finally he drifted off to sleep, with the spellbook resting across his body.

Near midnight, Corporal's whine awakened them both. The source of the dog's agitation was quickly audible, a sharp, ululating howling rose into the night and resounded through the forest like the voice of doom.

"It's closer," whispered Erix, awestruck.

In the back of his mind, Halloran had sheltered the notion that perhaps this nocturnal pack was not connected to him. After all, he knew of no spells usable by the Bishou or Darien that could conjure up anything like this. But their appearance on this second night in a row confirmed his worst suspicions.

"They're a lot closer," he said grimly, looking straight into Erix's eyes. He wanted to dive into the warm pool he saw there, seeking comfort and shelter. But he knew this was not to be.

"What are they?" Erix questioned him earnestly.

She tried to conceal her fright, but was not completely successful.

"I'm not sure. Sorcerous, some kind of black magic things, I'm sure… very powerful, very deadly. They sound, in a way, like a pack of hounds on the hunt, but the noise is too unearthly for that." He took a deep breath and continued.

"Remember when I told you that we'd have to split up if it ever got too dangerous? The time has come. You can't stick with me any longer. I can't outrun those creatures, and when they catch me, it won't be pleasant. I might be able to hold 'em off, but you'll be far safer elsewhere."

She laughed at him then, and Halloran just stared back, not amused. "I mean it! We'll have to split up. It's the only chance you have!"

"Did you ever stop to think that this pack might be chasing me?" she asked, standing up and then helping him to his feet. "Maybe we should just stick together and try to help each other out," Erix suggested.

Halloran looked at her in surprise, ashamed that he had not considered that possibility. He had known since the death of Kachin that Erix had powerful and murderous enemies. Indeed, that attacker had broken off the fight at dawn, exactly when these hounds had ceased their howling the previous night.

Wearily, aching in every joint, they prepared to move out once more. The howling was more distinct than the previous night, yet still somehow indefinably distant.

They plodded along through the rest of the night, and gradually the sound drifted away behind them. But humans and animals both were near the point of total exhaustion when sunrise finally ended the cries of the beastly pursuers.

Finally, just as dawn turned to daylight, the jungle opened slightly into a flat savannah of grass, reeds, and, wondrous miracle, a clear pond! They both splashed into the water as the sun came up, drinking and washing and cooling off.

Only as the first rays lit the ground around them did Halloran look up to see three buzzards wheeling through a lazy circle above them.

"Higher! It needs five more feet!" Daggrande barked at a group of legionnaires who leaned on their spades in exhaustion. With dark looks at the dwarf, they chopped into the earth and shoveled more dirt onto the rampart that now ringed three quarters of Fort Helmsport.

Despite his shouts and curses, the dwarf could not restrain his pride in the work of the legionnaires. In a few short days, they had moved a prodigious amount of earth. Soon they would have a commanding and easily defensible base overlooking a fine natural harbor and a long stretch of the coast of this nation called Payit.

Below them, the little fishing village would never be the same. The wide, once-grassy field surrounding it had been churned to mud. A small smithy had been established near the stream, which now flowed brown and silt-laden into the bay, while black smoke from the forge filtered across the plain. A road, already reduced to a strip of mud, led from the fort to Ulatos. Steady supplies of food — cocoa, mayz, turkeys, venison, all the choicest delicacies of the Payit — arrived daily, and the legion ate well.

As the fort's construction progressed, rocks and earth had also been dumped into the bay, and now a solid jetty extended perhaps a hundred feet from shore. An additional pier, crossing the T of the jetty, took form, and carracks and caravels pulled up to the solid barrier. No longer did all loading and unloading depend upon the ships' small boats.

Daggrande continued his inspection of the rampart. The hilltop would soon be circled by a ten-foot-high dirt wall, with a five-foot deep ditch on the outside. A small opening had been left, free of ditch and wall, but Darien claimed to know a spell that would fill this gap in a moment. Daggrande did not doubt her.

The dwarf moved around to the far side of the redoubt, facing inland. This entire length had been the first completed, and no one was working here now. Daggrande climbed to the top of the wall and looked south. The belt of coastal plain surrounding Ulatos quickly met a deep jungle. The legionnaires had heard tales of a land called Far Payit, in the distant reaches to the south, but little was known of that heavily forested reach.

The natives of Ulatos had proven most cooperative, arriving at Helmsport laden with food, octal, and featherwork, but no more gold. These days Cordell studied his map, consulting again and again with the men who had seen Nexal. Images of that city — gold-lined images, Daggrande felt certain — had begun to dominate the commander's thoughts.

The dwarf himself didn't like the prospect of a long campaign on this foreign shore, so far from a supply and reinforcement base. At least here, beside Ulatos, they were close to their ships. The fleet represented ultimate safety against a people whose largest craft was the canoe.

Nexal was an inland city, many days' march from the sea. Surely even Cordell would not be so rash as to lead his small group, a bare five hundred men, into the heart of a nation whose army must number many tens of thousands! But beneath all his reflections, Daggrande was a legionnaire, sworn to obey his captain-general. And such he would always do, or die.

Daggrande's musings were interrupted by the sound of hushed voices. Scowling, he looked along the length of the wall, then into the redoubt behind him, but he saw nobody near him. Leaning slightly forward, he looked down the outer slope of the wall and saw several captains, including the usually dependable Garrant. Leaning farther, but crouching so as to remain hidden, the dwarf recognized the hat of the Assessor of Amn, Kardann.

It was the latter who spoke.

"He means to see us die here for his own aggrandizement!" Kardann's urgency carried even through the whisper of his voice. "Any sensible man would send for reinforcements and build up an army here before marching inland to seize more land!"

"Aye," grunted Captain Leone, a brave but unimaginative captain of longbowmen. "I've heard the army we fought here is nothin' next to the men they can muster inland."

"We must send to Amn for more forces!" persisted the assessor, "It would not mean abandonment of this base. We'd only need to send a few ships, enough to get the treasure safely back."

"It's the sensible thing to do," grunted another captain. Daggrande didn't recognize him beneath the brim of his helm.

"Perhaps we should all talk to the general…" suggested Garrant.

"No!" hissed Kardann. "He fears too much for his own power. We would only scare him into doing something rash. Instead, I have another plan…"

A sudden wind whirled off the bay, and Daggrande ducked backward, startled. The whispers of the warm breeze drowned out the whispers of treachery from below, but Daggrande had heard enough.

It was time to find the captain-general.

By day they stumbled until fatigue claimed them, collapsing into whatever minimal shelter the land might offer. They would steal a few hours of sleep in the afternoon, but then night fell, and soon the howling commenced again. Each night it drew closer, until it resounded through the forest, as if the pack were about to burst through the nearest line of trees. Still, after four nights of desperate flight, keeping always to unpopulated lands, barren wildernesses of jungle and swamp, they had yet to catch sight of their pursuers.

Halloran thought many times about stopping and fighting the faceless pack, challenging them with Helmstooth. But something in the sinister noises from bestial throats convinced him that such a challenge would be folly.

And, too, the thought of this woman facing a death as bloody and violent as Martine's was too terrifying for contemplation. The bitter image of the sacrifice still tortured Hal's memory. He felt certain that Erixitl's death would drive him mad.

They progressed slowly through the rough terrain, still encountering no sign of human habitation — at least, current human habitation. Many brush-covered mounds dotted the land, especially among the clearings. A close examination of several proved them to be overgrown pyramids, from a time long past. The land grew more open, still covered with jungle in patches but also offering areas of open meadow or grassland.

Corporal proved his fine greyhound's instincts over and over as he darted into the brush or across a short stretch of prairie, often returning with a turkey, rabbit, and once even a monkey. With this limited supply of meat, and the many fruits offered by the jungle, they did not suffer from hunger.

But still the driving, terrifying howling greeted them at night, driving them onward, always growing closer. They spoke little, sharing a pervasive sense of fear. Only in the mornings, after the howling had ceased for the day, would they sometimes pause for rest and quiet conversation.

"Who was she?" asked Erix one morning.

Halloran knew whom she meant, but he wasn't sure how to explain how he felt about Martine. He and Erix had just collapsed in a relatively open jungle clearing several hours after dawn. Since the pursuit grew closer every night in any event, they had decided that it didn't make sense to exhaust themselves during the day.

"She was a headstrong girl. I was charged with her safety."

"Was she your… wife? Your woman?" asked Erix lensely.

Halloran looked at her in surprise. "No." Suddenly the memory of his infatuation with Martine seemed foolish and embarrassing. Her death would remain a shocking barbarity in his memory, but it was the death of an innocent victim, not the loss of a true love. He shook his head emphatically. "No. She was the daughter of our priest. He brought her along with the expedition."

He remembered all the other ways he had once hoped to describe Martine, as his lady, his lover, even his wife. But all of those images now seemed ridiculous and absurd. The woman he desired was nothing like Martine. His woman was coolly intelligent, courageous, forgiving…

She was Erixitl. Halloran looked at her, and this time he allowed himself to fall into those deep, dark eyes. He felt their warmth around him, and then he was holding her and nothing else seemed to matter.

"You frighten me, Captain Halloran," she whispered to him as they lay together on the soft grasses. "But I am not afraid."

Daggrande did not find Cordell until evening, when he saw the captain-general on the shore beside the jetly, admiring the project with Domincus and Darien. Torches lined the pier, reflecting in the clear water of the lagoon and illuminating the work that would proceed far into the night. The dwarf scowled in concentration as he remembered the treachery he had overheard upon the wall.

"Splendid work on the harbor, Captain, simply splendid!" Cordell gestured at the T-shaped pier. "The earthworks are proceeding well, too. We were up there earlier."

"Thank you, General." Daggrande, stoic figure that he was, nevertheless invariably thrilled to praise from his commander. He nodded politely. "Excuse me, sir. There's a matter I need to discuss wilh you."

"Go on," urged Cordell.

"It's… well, it's a matter of some confidentiality, General." Daggrande wasn't about to assume that any of the captain-general's lieutenants were definitely loyal.

"These two have my utter confidence," said Cordell. "Speak!"

"Aye, General." Daggrande cleared his throat. "I was on the wall today, inspecting the work. I overhead some scuttlebutt from the far side."

"Indeed? Our good assessor, perhaps?"

The dwarf nodded in surprise. "He talks treason, General! He seeks to recruit officers and men to steal away some of the ships and take them back to Amn — with the treasure!"

Cordell showed no reaction, except that his coal-black eyes narrowed with tension. For a long moment, he remained immobile.

"Well done, Captain. I didn't trust the little weasel, but neither did I suspect him to be this bold." The captain-general's voice was tight, clipped. "But with this warning, he can be stopped in his tracks. Indeed, that is the only solution."

Slowly his face creased into an oily smile.

The attack came at dusk, silently and swiftly from the darkening jungle. No howling preceded it. Only Corporal saw the hell hounds, as Hal and Erix still slept peacefully in the grass. The greyhound barked, the sound shrill and frantic with tension.

Halloran sprang to his feet in time to see Corporal lunge toward the trees around their clearing. A great shape loomed there, half again as big as the greyhound. Hal saw red, glowing eyes and a tooth-studded maw spread wide.

Corporal lunged toward the attacker, unmindful of the other hell hounds coming into sight behind it. Halloran saw the greyhound spring, while the wolflike predator before him simply crouched. The beast spread its jaws, revealing huge black teeth.

As Corporal leaped for its throat, the monster belched a great cloud of flame. The greyhound twisted and yelped once, before fire wrapped the dog in a torturous, fatal shroud. Hot, billowing flames crackled from the hellhound's widespread maw, tearing the life from the loyal dog with its infernal heat.

The greyhound toppled to the ground while Halloran sprang forward, shocked and enraged by the attack. Helmstooth cut through the air in a silver flash, and the hell hound's head flopped onto the ground.

But then he looked up and saw more dark shapes charging through the darkness. They seemed to be all around him.

From the chronicle of Colon:

Silently obedient to the last, I yearn for a sign of hope or promise.

Naltecona has decided to send the strangers presents, as a token of his welcome — and his fear. The decision he left to the gods has been made by men, and now he greets those men as gods.

He has learned from his scouts and spies that the white men desire gold, so the Revered Counselor will send them gold to sate their appetites. He will also tell them of the great and grueling road to Nexal and inform them that they should not undertake such an arduous journey.

His lords and priests have counseled against this course, universal in claiming that gifts of gold will not cure the strangers of their appetite for the yellow metal.

But Naltecona is obstinate, and so the presents depart the city, a colorful caravan of slaves, litters of treasure, and ambassadors and spies of the Revered Counselor's court. They will bear the gifts to the strangers.

Once these men have seen our gold, I fear we shall never keep them away.