Viperhand - Douglas Niles [3]
The caldron and the cavern itself, the central meeting chamber of the drow, actually lay far above the surface of most of Maztica, excavated and eroded into the towering summit of Mount Zatal. The volcanic peak dominated the valley of Nexal, overlooking that great city. Now the volcano rumbled, as if a giant belch signified Zaltec's pleasure with his meal. The sensation of power as the rock trembled beneath his feet pleased the Ancestor.
Finally the Harvesters finished, and the Ancestor took his seat, alone in the cavern. From his great throne, he studied the circular stone depression before him. Some twenty feet across, its lip even with the cavern floor, the caldron glowed with a crimson, evil flame. The fresh hearts gleamed like red coals, though they shed little heat. Most of their power seethed downward, into the heart of the mountain and the soul of Zaltec himself.
This is might, the Ancestor realized. Zaltec is might! The worship of the god of war is a faith of true vibrancy and great power! Known to the Mazticans even before the coming of the drow, Zaltec had not achieved his current influence until the Ancient Ones arrived. Spreading his cult of sacrifice, they had fed the war god as never before. Soon Zaltec's power would be supreme, unstoppable.
The Ancestor thought for a moment of Lolth, the spider goddess of the drow, deified by others of his folk, in other parts of the world. The personification of evil, Lolth was a cruel mistress, promising power to those who followed her faithfully.
Once the Ancient Ones had numbered among those faithful, devoting their strength and their lives to the spider goddess.
"Bah!" he exclaimed, sneering. The other drow were fools. Lolth had forsaken the drow of Maztica, had turned her back upon them when the Rockfire wracked the land. Splitting the very earth, tearing the bedrock itself asunder, that convulsion had cut off the Ancestors' tribe from the rest of the dark elf race. Now that tribe had become the Ancient Ones, spokesmen for the cult of Zaltec, revered by the peoples of Maztica. Lolth and her pathetic minions, separated from Maztica by vast stretches of land, counted for less than nothing here.
Zaltec alone became their life and their future.
The Ancestor stared again at the hot, crimson hearts, glowing like coals in their vast hollow. Zaltec would rule the land! The priests of that dark god, following the teachings of the Ancient Ones, worked to convert warriors to their cause, marking them with the snake's-head brand. The cult of the Viperhand had begun to flourish, and this was the perfect instrument for the drows' work.
Another perfect tool sat on the throne of Nexal itself, the venerable drow reflected. The great Naltecona, Revered Counselor of the Nexala and virtual emperor of Maztica, served nicely as a figure to be held in awe. The ruler himself didn't see how willingly he forwarded the cause of the Ancient Ones.
Yet Naltecona's death had long been foretold, and in his passing, he would create a void of power across the land. Maztica would require new masters. And the Ancient Ones, through the cult of the Viperhand, would be ready.
Two matters still caused the Ancestor some concern. One was the landing of the Golden Legion in Maztica. These warlike strangers threatened to destroy all the preparations of the Ancient Ones. With their steel and their magic, the invaders were a formidable foe. Still, the Ancestor had anticipated the invasion and had taken a precautionary step, some ten years ago, to counter it. That step had come to fruition, and it might be that it would turn the Golden Legion into a powerful, if unwitting, ally.
The other, more vexing, matter was that of the girl, Erix-itl. She still, somehow, eluded them.
Recalling the vision that had chilled him