With a final sneer the demon fades. You find yourself lying on the battlefield. An enemy warrior in front of you lunges toward you with a flint-tipped battle spear but is cut off by a comrade warrior's shield as he springs to protect you. But now he is out-manned by two of the enemy and in dire trouble. A rage, an overwhelming madness, sweeps over you . . . and a forgetfulness.
Peace is gone.
You are a Mayan warrior. You grasp the obsidian studded war-club at your side, grab a wooden shield with the other hand, jump to your feet, and wade into battle to your protector's rescue . . . Epilog . . . Two days later the enemy city falls. The fighting had been intense and then desperate as the front was pushed from the outer city to the perimeter of the great plaza.