Viperhand - Douglas Niles [120]
Soon the Nexalans parted before them, still fighting but making no desperate attempt to prevent the breakout. Tb-kol led the way, his maca dripping with gore, his heart bursting with the tragedy he had brought upon his people. Of the twenty thousand warriors he had brought to Nexal, a little more than half of them escaped-and only because their enemies let them go.
As for Hoxitl and the cult, they knew that the true enemy remained trapped inside the palace of Axalt. Alone now, bereft of allies, the Golden Legion's fate would soon be sealed.
More black arrows arced through the moonlit night, but Chitikas saw them coming and blinked the four humans out of the way before they landed. Once again Halloran and Poshtli pressed home the attack against the draw, and again the dark elves flashed away before their swords could reach Darien.
Another drow lay dead upon the roof, but Poshtli and Halloran bled from several wounds each. Gasping with exhaustion, the companions paused to breathe.
"There!" Erixitl shouted, pointing around a corner of the peaked central roof.
The men, including Shatil, leaped to Erix's side as Chitikas again whisked them into an attack. Again and again, the battle of teleportation raged all around the palace roof, with neither side gaining a clear advantage. The legionnaires took little note of this fight, engrossed as they were in the defense of the building itself.
Throughout the long, bright night, Hal, Poshtli, Erix, and Shatil pursued the dark elves across the rooftop of the palace, while the square around them reeled under tHe raging battle. Eight or nine of the dark elves perished in the chase, but always Darien escaped.
Finally, as dawn began to color the eastern sky, the Ancient Ones blinked out of sight and did not reappear.
From the chronicles of Colon:
Amid a surging sea of blood, the Temple of Qotal remains a shrinking island of calm.
Around me rages war-total, uncontrolled, hateful battle that can only result in complete annihilation. The priests of Zaltec thrill, now, to their victory, little realizing the future cost of their triumph. The Ancient Ones, serving Zaltec, strive to kill the chosen daughter of Qotal, but now-and they must know this-it is too late to avert disaster.
They remain unaware of Lolth, creeping ever closer, growing ever larger. The spider goddess watches, withplea-sure, the bloodshed. She bides her time, not yet ready to add to the killing, when the humans do such a splendid job on their own.
But soon it will be time for her to strike.
RISING TIDE
Cordell stood on the palace roof with Daggrande and the Bishou, watching the Kultakans fight their way to the gates of the sacred plaza. The commander's sense of discipline wanted to condemn them for their flight and abandoning their allies.
Yet his soldier's spirit admired the courage and precision of their attack. In the pale blue light of dawn, they made their escape, and Cordell couldn't find it in his heart to blame them. The battle around the palace waned as the Kultakans broke from the sacred plaza, and the Nexalans paused to rest. Cordell knew that, despite the momentary calm, the next attack must come soon.
"Captain-General! Captain-General Cordell!" The breathless cry pulled his attention away from the courtyard.
"What is it?" he demanded, seeing Kardann puffing toward him. The pudgy assessor's face was flushed, his eyes wide with fear.
"It's Captain Alvarro, sir! He's been killed-by that woman!"
"Woman?" the general snapped. "Explain yourself!" Even as he spoke, he suspected the answer.
"The wench we captured, the one who came with Hal-loran! She murdered him!" Kardann gasped out the news as if it was the most important development in this long night of catastrophe.
Cordell sighed, raising a booted foot to the parapet and looking over the plaza. Alvarro. Such a willing