Chapter 1
The sun had nearly reached the mountaintop as the five warriors pursued their quarry. It had been a long and weary chase, but they sensed it was nearing its end. The man they sought, the demon king Iztlac, would soon pay for his atrocities.
Iztlac knew the warriors were close. He could not only sense them, he could hear their footfalls, their labored breath, and their muttered encouragements to one another. Could it be that they might actually catch him? How had it come to this? His city lay in ruins, and his army had been defeated. One thought burned in his mind: betrayal.
He came to the base of a cliff and began to climb. His arms and legs ached with exhaustion from the chase and the bloody battle before it, but he pushed through the pain. He would make sure it would not be an easy fight for his pursuers.
The twang of bowstrings sounded behind him, and he whirled around to see a volley of arrows headed straight for him. With superhuman speed, he caught an arrow in midflight and sent it flying back toward one of the warriors, piercing his neck, while two other warriors began to ascend the wall below. He continued upward. A cry of outrage accompanied another volley, and this time, one of the arrows found its mark. A searing pain shot through Iztlac’s thigh, and he faltered, stumbling on the rocks, but he did not stop. He continued to climb as a cascade of rocks from his stumble headed straight toward the two warriors below. One was able to avoid them, but the other was not so lucky. He tumbled backward, fell several feet, and landed hard against a boulder; his body went limp.
Iztlac crested the cliff and began his descent down the smaller, shallower slope on the other side. Their target now out of sight and out of range, the warriors resumed their pursuit up and over the hill. Wounded and at the brink of total exhaustion, Iztlac couldn’t continue on any further. This was it. The prophecy would be fulfilled. It would all end here. He bent down to break off the arrow in his thigh and waited with his knife in his hand.
His pursuers had crested the top of the cliff and started climbing down the other side, but they stopped when they saw Iztlac standing there waiting for them. They spread out, each warrior drawing a macuahuitl—a wooden club-sword with obsidian blades—and charged at him from different angles, trying to surround him. Iztlac took his knife and threw it, piercing one of the warriors in the chest. As they came in, swinging their swords, he dodged their blows and attacked back. He disarmed one of them then swung the captured macuahuitl with such force it sent the man’s head flying through the air.
The last of the warriors was the greatest of them, and Iztlac’s exhaustion had left his speed and strength diminished. No man had ever been such a challenge for him one-on-one. The warrior fought with intensity and conviction, but he struggled to overtake his enemy. Even exhausted, Iztlac was a force to be reckoned with. As their macuahuitls clashed, the force shattered them both. Immediately, they drew their knives and began to circle each other.
The warrior’s eyes burned with anger and hatred toward the demon king. The years of tyranny, blood and death were finally at an end. The monster had been driven out—dethroned and despised but still dangerous—and he must not be allowed to escape. He knew that facing him alone would most likely mean the end of his own life, but it was worth that price if it meant winning the freedom and salvation of his people.
Iztlac could see this, and he knew he had to finish the fight quickly. With the last of his energy, he thrust his knife toward his attacker. As the blade sunk into the warrior’s flesh, a searing pain shot through his own. He looked down at his abdomen and saw the warrior’s hand gripping the handle that protruded from between his lower ribs. Together, they collapsed to the ground. Iztlac, knowing his destiny, was not afraid despite the pain he felt. With what little breath he had left, he began to laugh, and as his life ebbed away, he uttered the words, “I will return . . .”
A wave of fear swept over the warrior. With his death, the demon’s rule was finally over. But could it be true? Would he return? How? When? His thoughts began to scatter and fade as he closed his eyes and felt the life slip from his body.
