Barry Sadler - God Of Death

He pointed a withered finger at Casca. "I knew disaster would befall us," he accused. "You have betrayed us! Because of you, many of my people will perish. It is too late to hide in the hills. We must have sacrifices to appease the gods and prevent this disaster from befalling us!"

Casca faced the old priest.

"No! By all the hounds of hell, no! There will be no more hearts cut out on your bloody altar for your bloody gods!" Pushing roughly past the startled old priest, Casca strode to the balcony and bellowed like the mythical bull of the German forest, "Olaf!"

"Olaf!" he thundered, the name echoing around the great plaza. "Bring me my men!" Men… men… men… The words repeated and faded.

The army of the Teotecs was gathered. Not all could make it in time, but fifteen thousand men stood ready, brilliant in their war dress and painted faces. They stood in silent ranks waiting for the one who would lead them in battle. In the city were Olaf and the Vikings, and the indication that today was different from others was mirrored in Vlad's face, which seemed a little darker. Holdbod fingered the edge of his great sword a little more frequently. They all waited like faithful hounds for their master's appearance.

Then he was before them.

The great serpent helmet of feathers and gold seemed to set off the armor of Rome that he wore.

Casca, Lord of the Keep, the Quetza of the Teotec stood before them.

The silence was oppressive.

And then, all at once, fifteen thousand voices cried out:

"Quetza!

"Quetza!

"Quetza!"

The roaring thunder of the name increased with each breath until it seemed the very force of their calling would bring down the walls of the buildings even before the Olmec had a chance at them. The Vikings, too, were taken up in this outpouring of fervor. Banging their steel swords against their shields, they tried to drown out the cries of the Teotec warriors with their even louder "Ave, Casca! Lord of the Keep! Ave, Casca, Lord of the Keep!"

Casca raised his recently reacquired short sword above his head and motioned for silence. He was obeyed. In the language of the Teotec he gave the command for the captains to come forth for orders. Gathering his leaders to him, he first ordered the captain of the Jaguars to take up positions behind the pyramid of the sun. From there they would strike on the signal given by a giant conch shell. Dismissing the Jaguar soldier, and waiting until he was out of earshot, Casca then turned to Olaf and his men.

"Vikings," he ordered, "you will place yourselves in the rear of the Serpent soldiers and hold your position."

Olaf started to grumble, but was quickly cut short by Casca's terse "Obey!"

"Yes, my lord." Olaf fumed at the idea that the Vikings might be left out of the main thrust of the coming battle, but he followed his orders.

Casca then ordered a squad of Serpent men to take the king to the hills outside and not to return until he sent known runners to bring the word that all was well. Those who could would follow from among the women and children, but all men must stand ready to fight whether they were capable of standing on their own two feet or not. These would mount the rooftops with stones and anything else they could throw down on the heads of the invaders.

The Coyote soldiers were to be on the right flank with the remaining miscellaneous troups covering the rest of the right. The Serpents were to hold the center; theirs was the place of honor. Casca dismissed his captains. He wished that he had Avidius Cassius here to borrow his brain for a moment. Avidius might have been a butcher, but the son-of-a-bitch knew how to plan and organize a battle. Shit, I'm okay for small unit actions, but I never had to deal with anything like this… Self-doubt afflicted Casca. Well, all I can do is the best I can, but it won't be anything fancy.

The Olmecs were coming into sight. From the tops of the highest buildings the faint-hearted already had begun their death wails which Casca soon stopped with the order to cut the throat of anyone who made a sound he didn't authorize. Separating a few of the toughest-looking troops, he positioned them on the exits and avenues leading off the plaza. He wanted the Olmecs to stay where he could keep an eye on them. Where the Hades are Tezmec and Totzin? Part of his question was answered as he saw the high priest of the Jaguar standing in full regalia watching the proceedings from his temple top. Well enough. That's a good place for the shriveled-up little bastard. But of Tezmec there was no sign.

Giving orders right and left, Casca raced around the square checking on his men and their leaders. Making sure his Vikings were in position, he gave his final orders… leaving Olaf with a smile on his face.

Teypetel sat on his litter, an obscenely fat, royal gargoyle. He wore only a robe made from the hide of the great spotted cat he held holy. Otherwise he was naked. The eighty slaves carrying his monster litter strained and sweated under the lash of his priest soldiers. They crested a small rise, and there before them lay the city of Teotah.

Teypetel's fat lips pulled back from his gums, exposing the needle teeth. He ran his tongue over the sharp teeth as if already tasting the blood that would flow so freely from the bodies to be slaughtered by his soldiers and him this day.

Teypetel gave his orders to his commanders. The Olmecs spread out on the plains facing the city, forming an arc tapering to the ends but thickened in the center. The Olmec plan was to use the points of the arc to encircle and outflank Casca's forces while the strong center smashed into the Teotec and kept them concentrated there until the horns of the arc reached each other and the encirclement was complete. Teypetel knew he had numerical superiority on his side; that and the aid of the Jaguar soldiers loyal to the would-be priest-king Totzin were enough to guarantee victory.

Now, surely the Teotec must be aware of his presence. They would be in a panic to get their troops organized and ready for fighting. That combined with what must surely be the panic of the civilian population would greatly hinder the efforts of the city to defend itself.

Smiling at the thought of the panic that his approach must be bringing, Teypetel ordered his drums to begin drums so large it took six slaves to carry each. The drums were positioned every two hundred feet in the rear of his troops. On his signal, they beat as one, a terrible rolling sound, like thunder in the valley.

The sound of distant thunder reaching the defenders in the city confused them. The skies were clear. Was this an ill omen?

Casca looked to the sound, the sun sparkling off his brilliant feathered robe, the same robe he had worn on the day of his sacrifice. Shading his eyes with his right hand he watched the soldiers of the Olmecs spread out and begin to move in toward the city. From this distance the invading army looked like the horns of one of the African bulls he had seen in the arena at Rome. To the rear of the soldiers he could just make out the huge drums and their attendants. So that's what's going on. Relaying to his men below that the thunder was only caused by giant drums, he ran down to the square. Taking a thousand warriors with him, he raced to the city's edge where the broad avenue stopped and the lesser trails began.

The enemy was approaching through the tall fields and the rows of cultivated, spiked maguey plants. Lining his warriors in three ranks, Casca waited. The drumming sound was almost overpowering. Steadily the Olmec approached. One hundred of the thousand warriors Casca had taken were archers. By his standards they were nothing to compare with the archers of the Scythians and Parthians. They lacked the laminated bows of those famous fighters. The Teotec bows were lighter, and they were shooting arrows of cane from the marshes, tipped with sharpened bits of stone. But they were what he had, and he planned to use them. He had the archers stationed behind the rearmost rank of warriors.