Viperhand - Douglas Niles [26]
The captain-general slapped his gloved hand against his thigh, reinvigorated by the sight of his troops. The land before them looked smooth, rich, and inviting.
"Come, my good men!" he commanded, including Kardann in his expansive gesture. "On to Kultaka-the first step on the road to Nexal!"
Far from Maztica, deep in the nether regions, dwelled Lolth, spider goddess of the drow. Her presence on thecon-tinent of Faerun lay far to the east, and far beneath the lands washed by the sun. Those of her dark elves wholived to the west, beneath the place called the True World, formed a small tribe, insignificant among the vibrant, savage nations of the drow.
Yet Lolth was a jealous goddess-a deity who would brook no faithlessness. Now she heard the words of the Ancestor. She heard them and seethed.
Forsaken by their god? So they claimed now. They worshiped Zaltec, they fed him and used his priests like puppets. Now they worked his people into a frenzy, using their power-seated in the Darkfyre-to form this cult called the Viperhand.
So the Ancient Ones despaired of Lolth? Indeed.
Before she finished with them, the black spider goddess vowed, they would learn the true depths of despair.
KULTAKA
Takamal, war chief and Revered Counselor of Kultaka, was widely known as the wisest man in the Time World. Had he not defended his homeland against Nexalan depredations throughout his lifetime of more than seven decades? True, the Kultakans were a fierce and warlike people with a fine warrior tradition, but their numbers were only a quarter or less of the equally warlike Nexalans.
Only once, when the forces of Nexal had been commanded by the young but highly accomplished Eagle Warrior, Lord Poshtli, had the two sides exchanged equal numbers of prisoners. Always before and since, the Kulta-kan forces left the field with two or three Nexalan captives for every one they lost.
But now Takamal confronted a problem for which his long rivalry with his inland neighbor had not prepared him. He was an old man, but still spry, and so he stalked about his throne room in Kultaka, loudly demanding answers from the empty room. For this was the way Takamal pondered.
"Are they truly mighty? They defeated the Payit in a great battle at Ulatos-so? Does this mean they can defeat the Kultaka? Can they beat me?"
Takamal pounded his fist into his palm, seething. Just this once, he wished that the gods would answer! He heard the clatter of javelins in the courtyard outside as young tribesmen trained under the strict eyes of older warriors.
Perhaps that was his answer. In truth, he knew that it was. He would face this problem as he faced every other threat to his domain.
"My observers say they bring five thousandmen of the Payit-bah! They do not concern me. And the tale of their battle against the strangers, fighting them in an open field!
This is foolish, when the gods have provided them with ground to conceal them!"
Now, Takamal sensed, the gods listened. One god, in particular, he wanted to take heed.
"Zaltec, your shining spear shall precede us to war! I will meet these strangers and their fawning Payit slaves-but I will choose my ground with care."
He scowled, nodding his head so that his feathered headdress bobbed in the air. He stood tall and crossed his arms across his breast, addressing the image of Zaltec, god of war, in his mind. Takamal reached a decision, and as always the deciding lightened his spiritual burden.
"The entire might of Kultaka shall gather, a league of thirty thousandmen! Our Jaguars will rend, our Eagles pursue, and we will send these foreigners back to the sea!"
The coals lay cold in the firepit Dank humidity lingered in the air of the lodge, a reminder of the steam that had permeated the low house many hours earlier. Poshtli sat alone, as he had sat throughout