“You’re Ulxa?!” I exclaim.
Before Mexqutli has a chance to raise his hands in surrender, my bow—Sachia’s bow—is drawn taut with an arrow aimed between his wide, hazel eyes. Haluiqa clutches his right side while holding a sword in his other hand, admittedly weakly. He can barely support himself, but his attention is purely on the Ulxa snake, and Haluiqa musters up all the energy he can to defend our land from the likes of their kind.
How could I be so trusting, so blind? Was it from my exhaustion after the numerous events and encounters, days spent traveling and searching for Haluiqa, Sianchu, and any other survivors? Or am I just that naïve, that gullible? I may be experienced with a bow, but perhaps this is why I wasn’t brought along on the initial mission, being so easily fooled when battling subterfuge, not physical combat, was thought to be required.
Mexqutli tosses his daggers a short distance from his position—just far enough that he'd need to outpace me to retrieve them, yet near enough that he retains the option to engage in a swift race to reclaim them should peril arise. His gaze alternates between me and Haluiqa, all the while maintaining his hands level with his head. I surmise he's contemplating which of us presents a more favorable opportunity to persuade into considering his words.
“Now, friends,” Mexqutli pleads, “what makes you say such an accusation?” His words drip with honey in an effort to charm us.
“The way you speak,” Haluiqa says unamused. “I would recognize an Ulxa tongue from anywhere. And your tattoos are obvious.”
All three of us look at Mexqutli’s torn garment and see, through the tears in the cloth, deep black markings. While there’s fury on Haluiqa’s face, and most certainly on mine, Mexqutli’s face is one of resignation. He closes his eyes and takes a long, deep breath. Realizing he’s been caught, Mexqutli starts to walk backward, but both Haluiqa and I raise our weapons, ready to unleash them at the sight of any false move.
“What is the meaning of this,” I shout, arrow at the ready.
“If you both would be so kind,” he says in a calm, tranquil tone with his naturally staccato dialect, “as to lower your weapons, I can explain why an Ulxa is traveling through hostile Tuatiu lands.”
“You better have an answer,” I demand, “and quickly. We wouldn’t have to be hostile had it not been for your deceit. I’ve already shown you enough patience.”
“Certainly,” he says with a nod, “just as soon as you lower your arrow, please.”
“You are far from being in a position to make requests,” I say. “So if you don’t want those to be your last words, you better start explaining yourself.”
“Fair enough,” Mexqutli says, “but if you could allow me to say what I have to say without interruption, which I know will be difficult considering what I am about to say, it would be much appreciated.”
Haluiqa and I glance at one another in slight confusion, then return our focus on him. I’m convinced he will not be able to convince me, that much I’m sure. He’s misled me since I’ve met him, so I’m prepared to shoot him where he stands, and my mind wills him to make a move for his daggers so I have the chance.
“Although our journey together has begun with deceit, as you say, I am, in fact, traveling for an honorable, diplomatic purpose,” Mexqutli says. “I am to persuade Achutli to stop one of our own, a shaman by the name of Xaqilpa, from persuading him into waging war on the Ulxa people.”
I’m confused and eager to ask about the Ulxa shaman, and why he would attack his own people, but I decide to allow him to explain. At worst, Mexqutli digs himself into such a hole that it will make it easier to shoot him without remorse. Mexqutli begins to sit down before continuing, which I suppose is another attempt by him at pacifying the situation, to show he’s not a threat. I no longer take anything he says or does at face value—I’m going to make sure it’s a mistake I won’t make again.
“When I learned that Tapeu was covertly declaring war on the Ulxa, I understood a situation such as this may occur,” Mexqutli says, waving his hand as if to present the current moment in which we all find ourselves as his example. “However, my intention was not to deceive, but to protect myself and my people from harm. Given that Achutli has spread misinformation about the Ulxa wanting to usurp his throne, I knew my journey might be fraught with danger as I traveled in the territories of Tapeu allies—I had just hoped I could make an ally of my own along the way.”
Mexqutli sees that the expression on our faces hasn’t changed, and his hopeful look fades as he lets out a sigh. He then looks longingly at Haluiqa’s belongings, then back at the two of us.
“This is going to be an explanation that requires much length,” Mexqutli laments in his broken Merchant’s Tongue. “I wish so much that I had some oxtli about now. You do not happen to have–”
“Get on with it!” I command, knowing of his propensity to divert our attention away from himself.
“Right, right,” Mexqutli sighs. “Although I cannot explain Achutli’s reasoning, I can explain Xaqilpa. I do not believe his intentions are good, for anyone on Pachil. The abbreviated version is that he is angry that he was not selected as the Ulxa ruler, and is using resources of the Tapeu to destroy the one in charge.”
“He would want to destroy his own people?” I ask, not quite believing what I’m hearing.
“After the War of Liberation ended, and our leader, Qixana–“
“He was one of the Eleven, the Ulxa member,” I blurt out, recalling the tales of the heroes. Their names are forever etched in this land, never to be forgotten, and our own people worship their extraordinary deeds that saved us all from the oppressive titans. May their footsteps forever echo in the jungles.
“Correct,” he says, then continues, “Qixana had passed away, and without an heir, we could not conduct our ritual for declaring our next ruler. So, we were left to utilize a rarely-applied bylaw, one that has not been used for countless generations:
“At our temple, there is a well-guarded artifact—the obsidian mirror, or Itztecatl —that those who live in the community pray to and are sworn to protect. Though it is unknown what the runes engraved on the mirror signify, it holds great power that allows the ruler, and only the ruler, to speak to our ancestors.
“Xaqilpa claimed he held the mirror in his hands and could hear the voices of the ancestors. However, when Tlexnín–“
“Who is that?” I interrupt, for clarification—how else am I supposed to keep track of all this Ulxa gibberish, especially while trying to make sense of his bizarre accent?
“Inquisitive Inuxeq,” he says, amused, and eerily calm given the circumstances. “She is our present ruler. It is said by those who witnessed the sight—monks called the Tletlazotl, or Guardians of the Flame—that when Tlexnín possessed the mirror, an ethereal aura surrounded both it and Tlexnín, glowing this magnificent ruby red, and a hum resonated throughout the island. Xaqilpa claims it is some performative trick, but, well, the signs speak for themselves.”
“So, Xaqilpa throws a tantrum and runs to Achutli, and convinces him that the Ulxa are evil,” I say, hurrying along this long-winded explanation.
“Precisely, while taking the Huetloia, our ritual drum, with him. There are already signs that his influence over Achutli has grown more significant, as well as the use of the drum. It was not long after I began my journey that I learned about the destruction of Tlequatlan–“
He stops for a moment, his once jovial and confident expression turns to a frown, and I can see he’s holding back something, resisting the urge to show any emotion. After a few heartbeats, he comes to, snapping out of whatever memory he traveled to. Mexqutli looks to both Haluiqa and me, takes a deep breath to regain his composure, then carried on from where he left off.
“The attack meant that my endeavor is much more urgent. I was tasked by Tlexnín to…” Mexqutli pauses again, this time searching the sky for assistance to find the words. “I am to attempt a diplomatic approach, to show reason to Xaqilpa and Achutli.”
“And if that fails?” Haluiqa asks. I see that his sword no longer points at Mexqutli, but, instead, it’s lowered and its point is touching the ground.
“Well, with regards to Xaqilpa,” Mexqutli says, pausing for a moment before continuing his response. “Let us hope it will be resolved diplomatically.”
Haluiqa walks over to Mexqutli’s belongings, fetches a pouch, and tosses it to him. Mexqutli catches it, and for the first time, he lowers his hands. Accepting the water, he nods his thanks, then takes many, many gulps, nearly emptying the pouch.
“Who knew speaking in defense of oneself would make one so parched?” Mexqutli jokes, although Haluiqa and I are still not in any laughing mood. Fortunately for me—and probably Mexqutli—Haluiqa asks what is on my mind, and I become self-aware of my face perhaps conveying my true feelings, betraying my efforts to mask my emotions.
“How are we to know all this is true? It could be that your leader, Tlexnín, has a disagreement with Xaqilpa, and has sent you to assassinate him. You claim to want a diplomatic resolution, but it’s easy for you to state you made every effort and he didn’t reciprocate, leaving you no choice but to murder him. Your relationship to me was formed through deception, so how am I to trust you and your supposed mission? I still don’t believe we can simply let you go free.”
“The Ulxa have tarnish on their reputation as being historically in support of the Timuaq, despite ultimately allying with the rebellion. This much is undeniable, and with Qixana seen in some circles as a traitor for betraying the Timuaq, our stature on Pachil is somewhat diminished. So it is certainly a battle to regain respect and earn trust—that, I understand. However–”
Mexqutli looks at Haluiqa and I, then looks over to his belongings, then back to us. I’m assuming he wants something from over there, so I sigh and reluctantly nod for Haluiqa to throw Mexqutli’s satchel to him. Not taking any chances, I train my arrow on him while he rummages through the bag, just to be certain that he doesn’t unleash further trickery.
He reaches in and grabs a large golden disk engraved with the symbol of a bird encased in the sun, the symbol of the rebellion. The disk has two punctures at the top, which can be used to thread a rope through it if one desired to suspend the disk around their neck. Other than the markings, however, the disk itself isn’t embellished with much else, but the gold radiates even in the dimming sunlight.
“Haluiqa,” Mexqutli says, “I believe you understand what this disk represents.”
Haluiqa frowns and nods, his eyes cast downward and shoulders slump. I raise an eyebrow at this, uncertain at the implications, while maintaining my aim on Mexqutli.
“After the War of Liberation,” Haluiqa says, “every faction was given a number of these disks. Each talisman represents the factions’ commitment to diplomacy and peace on Pachil, granting safe passage to the bearer, so long as they come in peace. It was decided that the only people who could be entrusted with these disks are those from the academy in Chalaqta and the Iqsuwa—those who complete the rigorous trials, conducted not only to prove skills in combat, but to also determine one’s commitment to upholding the values of justice, truth, and harmony in our land.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” I say, then realizing I’ve lowered my bow and arrow due to the surprise, regain my composure to aim it at Mexqutli once again, “you’re an Iqsuwa?! The drunken warrior I easily disposed of? How are you upholding the values of peace? By being too inebriated to fight?”
I didn’t hold back my laughter at the absurdity of this old fool, whom I had no difficulty tracking and fighting, being one of the legendary warriors of Pachil, brought to near extinction once the Timuaq ruled. For most factions, if you wanted to be a well-trained warrior, you either went to the academy—the Maqanuiache in Chalaqta—or you became an Iqsuwa. Except, of course, you only got into the academy if you were of a noble lineage; for everyone else, unless you’re Tuatiu, you could only become an Iqsuwa, and even then, their training is notoriously meticulous and demanding, where only the best succeeded. All kidding aside, if this was all that remained of a once glorious and respectful class of combatants, then I can see why he never introduced himself as an Iqsuwa, and perhaps they are better off perished.
“I admit it has been difficult to cope with the attack on Tlequatlan,” Mexqutli says, and I sense restraint and slight embarrassment in his voice. However, it doesn’t prevent me from continuing my laughter.
“Why,” I ask, “was the best oxtli stored there?” More laughter, despite Haluiqa’s insistence that I calm down.
“My sister went missing after Xaqilpa and the Tapeu attacked.”
Sun and sky.
Mexqutli bites his lower lip and attempts to put on a brave face, but deep down, I know my barbs, in combination with the memory of his missing sister, hurt him personally. I lower my bow and walk over to the wounded man, head bowed.
“I–,” I start to say, resting a hand on his shoulder. Mexqutli flinches and tenses up as though he isn’t used to being touched, then looks at my hand before returning his gaze to the ground. This man has danced around the truth since we’ve met, so it would be easy for him to try to mislead me yet again with a heartbreaking tale. I guess I am gullible and naïve, looking at his defeated expression and feeling as though this was him being genuine, though perhaps it’s simply that I want to believe him. I am terrible with words, but I know the bare minimum I have to say to him, whether I accept what he says as true or not.
“I’m sorry. I was completely insensitive and out of line.”
“It is fine,” Mexqutli says somberly. “You did not know, and I did not say. I have disguised the truth, as you mentioned, so I am undeserving of mercy until I have earned your trust. I do not like bringing it up because it is a reminder that I have failed protecting the ones I love.”
“What happened?” I inquire as I sit beside him.
“Tlequatlan is where my family is from,” Mexqutli says, “and where my sister resides. When I learned about the attack, not much information could be given to me. I only heard of the news through the words of traveling Achope merchants returning from conducting business with the reluctant Auilqa, so they could not confirm much. However, what they did say was that the Tapeu had attacked, and Tlequatlan villagers were seen fleeing. They could not tell me if there were survivors, only of the destruction and smoke that could be seen from the Auilqa city, Qasiunqa, down and across the river from it.
“Learning about the attack and knowing I could be heading into hostile territory, I sought out any clothes that could mask my ties to the Ulxa, for my safety. I suppose some things, such as my manner of speech, are difficult to disguise.”
Mexqutli allows himself a slight grin before returning to recount what he knows about the village. I give him a moment to tell his tale at his own pace, even though my natural inclination is to speed this along so we can track the Tapeu and question them.
“She—Chantioq—is a resourceful woman, so I have hopes that she managed to find safety. But it has been difficult for me to continue with the mission I have been given, knowing she is unaccounted for. Without me abandoning my duties, I have no other way to find out if she has survived. But as an Iqsuwa, I am honor bound to execute the task assigned to me before I can search for my sister.”
I find it fascinating, and a bit concerning, that Mexqutli is continuing with his mission without dropping everything to find his missing sister. Though I would defend Tuatiu to the death, I would be hard pressed to perform a duty when my family was possibly in danger. Because of this, I question just how committed Mexqutli could be to this mission. However, I’m not Iqsuwa, so I suppose I can’t understand willfully restricting myself to putting a cause before my own family.
“Is that why you seek Sianchu? Is his raiding party responsible for the attack on Teleqa…” These Ulxa words are so difficult for me to pronounce. “On your home village?”
“Though I cannot be certain he is responsible,” Mexqutli says, “this Sianchu may know what the Tapeu—and, most likely, Xaqilpa—had planned. However, there is too much uncertainty, and all I want is to understand why the Tapeu seek violence against the Ulxa, when my people want to be left alone. When we were not asked to attend discussions regarding the reconstruction of Pachil, the Ulxa did not mind, for we simply wanted to exist in our corner of the land in peaceful seclusion, as we had done before the Timuaq. We know what role our people played in the titans’ rule, and many throughout Pachil view the Ulxa negatively, but all we want is for everyone to exist in peace, on their own terms.”
It’s difficult to argue a faction wanting to be left in solitude. For Tuatiu, it’s all we want, as well, although being the superior warriors we are, it’s easy to see why we have been selected to assist Tapeu in upholding the peace. However, if what Mexqutli says is true—which I’m apparently inclined to trust, knowing he possesses the disk of Iqsuwa—then something nefarious is taking place. Even then, there are still many questions remaining unanswered to understand his true intentions.
“What do you know of these gray creatures?” Haluiqa asks, changing the subject, of which I’m relieved, since not only can we get information on what we’re in for, but also this can help take Mexqutli’s mind off Chu… Chanta… his sister. “They seem supernatural, and I was led to believe all such things ceased to exist once the Eleven defeated the Timuaq. These monsters resemble what we faced during the war, yet they’re much larger and… more terrifying.”
“I am unsure,” Mexqutli says. “From what I have seen, they appear much like what was created by the Ulxa who fought on the side of the Timuaq, those brute warriors formed from the ritual. Because the Huetloia–“
“That drum you mentioned,” I say, then quickly apologize for interrupting yet again.
“Correct, the drum,” he continues. “It is told that such drums have been infused with essence from the underworld, blessed by our shamans at the monastery, the Tletlazotl. Conducting the ritual by rhythmically beating the drum reverberates through the realms to speak to the spirits as it draws the souls back into the mortal plane. They ultimately possess the deceased and imbue the bodies with a spectral energy.”
With my limited interaction with these people during the war, I forgot how obsessed the Ulxa are with the dead and spirits and such. On the one hand, all this talk about the underworld and spirits feels made up and exaggerated, like some fables that are too earnestly believed. As Haluiqa said, such magic was supposed to have ceased when our saviors, the Eleven, rescued us from the titans and their monsters. Yet on the other hand, what I witnessed on the battlefield along with what we’ve just fought over the last day or two, makes it hard for me to deny the plausibility of what Mexqutli is telling us.
“So you believe that Xaqilpa has been using the drum and begun forming an army to take down the Ulxa?” asks Haluiqa. It’s reminiscent of the War of Liberation, and if this is true, we have much to fear, especially if no heroes possess the capabilities of magic.
“After facing them on my journey to Qapauma,” Mexqutli says, letting out a long breath, “I can only conclude it is his doing. However, why he has begun using the Huetloia so far from Ulxa territory, I cannot be certain. There are the lands of, at minimum, two other factions between Tapeu and Ulxa, along with rivers and mountains that I doubt these creatures can traverse successfully.”
“You don’t think,” I say, a bit shocked at this realization, “he’s trying to imply the Ulxa are attacking us, and falsely accuse your people of instigating a war, do you?”
“While that is only speculation,” Mexqutli says, “the possibility is highly likely. Due to your people’s proximity, Xaqilpa could be using the Tuatiu as not only a sacrifice for his purposes, but also to assess the effectiveness of his capabilities.”
The thought of this infuriates me, and I begin pacing around, wanting to strike something. How could someone view an entire faction of people as disposable, especially during a time of supposed peace? The Tuatiu have answered whenever the Tapeu have called upon our weapons, yet their Arbiter will allow such treasonous behavior? What is the Tapeu trying to achieve with this, risking the ire of every other faction if it is discovered what they are up to?
My vision is blurred from adrenaline and rage. My mind is clouded with the thought of charging into the jungle and hunting down Sianchu, flaying him alive until he tells me everything he knows. I want to scale the walls of Qapauma and slit Xaqilpa’s throat for such deceit, then fill the Arbiter with arrows for allowing this treachery on his watch. I want to burn Qapauma to the ground, leaving it nothing but a heap of ash as a reminder for what happens when you betray the Tuatiu. Then again, have I once more fallen for the simple words and explanation given by Mexqutli? Could he be misleading us, disguising his true mission by playing on my emotions and desire to defend Tuatiu?
Long, deep breath in. Long, deep breath out.
Long, deep breath in. Long, deep breath out.
Okay, I think to myself, in an effort to calm down and not react right away, what can we do about this possible assault on our people? What are the next actionable steps?
“You have those daggers,” I say, pointing to the knives he dropped at the beginning of the interrogation. “They appear to be the only thing that efficiently takes those beasts down. What are they?”
Mexqutli hoists himself off the ground and retrieves the bejeweled obsidian daggers. He looks at the knives, juggling them in his hands as if testing their weight and balance.
“Before the war, I befriended a shaman. He was the one who conducted my ceremony upon becoming a Iqsuwa. When he learned I was summoned by Qixana to fight in the war, he gifted me these two daggers. He said they were blessed as a conduit to channel the essence of our ancestors to fight the undead. They have slain many of these gray monsters, although the ones we have faced recently appear to be more powerful than what was fought in the war. There is something empowering them to be much stronger.”
“There was a symbol, drawn or carved onto their foreheads,” I say, recalling my first encounter with the beasts—the ones that killed my friend, Sachia, and the other warriors. “It was a flame, with an eye inside it. Do you know what that means?”
“Unfortunately, I do not,” Mexqutli says, shaking his head and frowning. “I was not taught the runes and symbols like those at the monastery; only shamans know what they mean and how to use them. Xaqilpa, being one of the highest-ranking shaman among the Tletlazotl, will know much, to the detriment of any opposing him.”
There’s a silence between us as we all consider this, no other sounds but bird calls and insect chirps. The jungle has cooled while the sun sets, and though it’s not as humid, there’s a clamminess to the air that causes the chill to stick to my skin.
“So, what do we do?” I ask. Though this feels insurmountable, we can’t let Xaqilpa execute this attack on both the Tuatiu and Ulxa people. We have to act, but there isn’t a clear determination as to how we proceed.
“I will return to Iantana,” Haluiqa says, “to make sure our people are–“
“I can’t allow you to travel alone, with those beasts roaming the jungles!” I say. “I will go with you, then figure out a plan to proceed to Qapauma.”
“It is imperative we get to Qapauma to stop Xaqilpa and discuss diplomacy to Achutli,” Mexqutli says, “but protecting the people of your homeland is just as important. We should ensure the innocent are aware of the ensuing danger and can defend themselves. But then we must make haste to Qapauma.”
The three of us steel ourselves for the challenge ahead. Much remains unanswered by Mexqutli, but having seen the threat of the gray beasts, I know we must protect Iantana at the very least. Yet in the end, if what is said about Xaqilpa is true, and he isn’t stopped, it will be all for nothing.
“You’re Ulxa?!” I exclaim.
Before Mexqutli has a chance to raise his hands in surrender, my bow—Sachia’s bow—is drawn taut with an arrow aimed between his wide, hazel eyes. Haluiqa clutches his right side while holding a sword in his other hand, admittedly weakly. He can barely support himself, but his attention is purely on the Ulxa snake, and Haluiqa musters up all the energy he can to defend our land from the likes of their kind.
How could I be so trusting, so blind? Was it from my exhaustion after the numerous events and encounters, days spent traveling and searching for Haluiqa, Sianchu, and any other survivors? Or am I just that naïve, that gullible? I may be experienced with a bow, but perhaps this is why I wasn’t brought along on the initial mission, being so easily fooled when battling subterfuge, not physical combat, was thought to be required.
Mexqutli tosses his daggers a short distance from his position—just far enough that he'd need to outpace me to retrieve them, yet near enough that he retains the option to engage in a swift race to reclaim them should peril arise. His gaze alternates between me and Haluiqa, all the while maintaining his hands level with his head. I surmise he's contemplating which of us presents a more favorable opportunity to persuade into considering his words.
“Now, friends,” Mexqutli pleads, “what makes you say such an accusation?” His words drip with honey in an effort to charm us.
“The way you speak,” Haluiqa says unamused. “I would recognize an Ulxa tongue from anywhere. And your tattoos are obvious.”
All three of us look at Mexqutli’s torn garment and see, through the tears in the cloth, deep black markings. While there’s fury on Haluiqa’s face, and most certainly on mine, Mexqutli’s face is one of resignation. He closes his eyes and takes a long, deep breath. Realizing he’s been caught, Mexqutli starts to walk backward, but both Haluiqa and I raise our weapons, ready to unleash them at the sight of any false move.
“What is the meaning of this,” I shout, arrow at the ready.
“If you both would be so kind,” he says in a calm, tranquil tone with his naturally staccato dialect, “as to lower your weapons, I can explain why an Ulxa is traveling through hostile Tuatiu lands.”
“You better have an answer,” I demand, “and quickly. We wouldn’t have to be hostile had it not been for your deceit. I’ve already shown you enough patience.”
“Certainly,” he says with a nod, “just as soon as you lower your arrow, please.”
“You are far from being in a position to make requests,” I say. “So if you don’t want those to be your last words, you better start explaining yourself.”
“Fair enough,” Mexqutli says, “but if you could allow me to say what I have to say without interruption, which I know will be difficult considering what I am about to say, it would be much appreciated.”
Haluiqa and I glance at one another in slight confusion, then return our focus on him. I’m convinced he will not be able to convince me, that much I’m sure. He’s misled me since I’ve met him, so I’m prepared to shoot him where he stands, and my mind wills him to make a move for his daggers so I have the chance.
“Although our journey together has begun with deceit, as you say, I am, in fact, traveling for an honorable, diplomatic purpose,” Mexqutli says. “I am to persuade Achutli to stop one of our own, a shaman by the name of Xaqilpa, from persuading him into waging war on the Ulxa people.”
I’m confused and eager to ask about the Ulxa shaman, and why he would attack his own people, but I decide to allow him to explain. At worst, Mexqutli digs himself into such a hole that it will make it easier to shoot him without remorse. Mexqutli begins to sit down before continuing, which I suppose is another attempt by him at pacifying the situation, to show he’s not a threat. I no longer take anything he says or does at face value—I’m going to make sure it’s a mistake I won’t make again.
“When I learned that Tapeu was covertly declaring war on the Ulxa, I understood a situation such as this may occur,” Mexqutli says, waving his hand as if to present the current moment in which we all find ourselves as his example. “However, my intention was not to deceive, but to protect myself and my people from harm. Given that Achutli has spread misinformation about the Ulxa wanting to usurp his throne, I knew my journey might be fraught with danger as I traveled in the territories of Tapeu allies—I had just hoped I could make an ally of my own along the way.”
Mexqutli sees that the expression on our faces hasn’t changed, and his hopeful look fades as he lets out a sigh. He then looks longingly at Haluiqa’s belongings, then back at the two of us.
“This is going to be an explanation that requires much length,” Mexqutli laments in his broken Merchant’s Tongue. “I wish so much that I had some oxtli about now. You do not happen to have–”
“Get on with it!” I command, knowing of his propensity to divert our attention away from himself.
“Right, right,” Mexqutli sighs. “Although I cannot explain Achutli’s reasoning, I can explain Xaqilpa. I do not believe his intentions are good, for anyone on Pachil. The abbreviated version is that he is angry that he was not selected as the Ulxa ruler, and is using resources of the Tapeu to destroy the one in charge.”
“He would want to destroy his own people?” I ask, not quite believing what I’m hearing.
“After the War of Liberation ended, and our leader, Qixana–“
“He was one of the Eleven, the Ulxa member,” I blurt out, recalling the tales of the heroes. Their names are forever etched in this land, never to be forgotten, and our own people worship their extraordinary deeds that saved us all from the oppressive titans. May their footsteps forever echo in the jungles.
“Correct,” he says, then continues, “Qixana had passed away, and without an heir, we could not conduct our ritual for declaring our next ruler. So, we were left to utilize a rarely-applied bylaw, one that has not been used for countless generations:
“At our temple, there is a well-guarded artifact—the obsidian mirror, or Itztecatl —that those who live in the community pray to and are sworn to protect. Though it is unknown what the runes engraved on the mirror signify, it holds great power that allows the ruler, and only the ruler, to speak to our ancestors.
“Xaqilpa claimed he held the mirror in his hands and could hear the voices of the ancestors. However, when Tlexnín–“
“Who is that?” I interrupt, for clarification—how else am I supposed to keep track of all this Ulxa gibberish, especially while trying to make sense of his bizarre accent?
“Inquisitive Inuxeq,” he says, amused, and eerily calm given the circumstances. “She is our present ruler. It is said by those who witnessed the sight—monks called the Tletlazotl, or Guardians of the Flame—that when Tlexnín possessed the mirror, an ethereal aura surrounded both it and Tlexnín, glowing this magnificent ruby red, and a hum resonated throughout the island. Xaqilpa claims it is some performative trick, but, well, the signs speak for themselves.”
“So, Xaqilpa throws a tantrum and runs to Achutli, and convinces him that the Ulxa are evil,” I say, hurrying along this long-winded explanation.
“Precisely, while taking the Huetloia, our ritual drum, with him. There are already signs that his influence over Achutli has grown more significant, as well as the use of the drum. It was not long after I began my journey that I learned about the destruction of Tlequatlan–“
He stops for a moment, his once jovial and confident expression turns to a frown, and I can see he’s holding back something, resisting the urge to show any emotion. After a few heartbeats, he comes to, snapping out of whatever memory he traveled to. Mexqutli looks to both Haluiqa and me, takes a deep breath to regain his composure, then carried on from where he left off.
“The attack meant that my endeavor is much more urgent. I was tasked by Tlexnín to…” Mexqutli pauses again, this time searching the sky for assistance to find the words. “I am to attempt a diplomatic approach, to show reason to Xaqilpa and Achutli.”
“And if that fails?” Haluiqa asks. I see that his sword no longer points at Mexqutli, but, instead, it’s lowered and its point is touching the ground.
“Well, with regards to Xaqilpa,” Mexqutli says, pausing for a moment before continuing his response. “Let us hope it will be resolved diplomatically.”
Haluiqa walks over to Mexqutli’s belongings, fetches a pouch, and tosses it to him. Mexqutli catches it, and for the first time, he lowers his hands. Accepting the water, he nods his thanks, then takes many, many gulps, nearly emptying the pouch.
“Who knew speaking in defense of oneself would make one so parched?” Mexqutli jokes, although Haluiqa and I are still not in any laughing mood. Fortunately for me—and probably Mexqutli—Haluiqa asks what is on my mind, and I become self-aware of my face perhaps conveying my true feelings, betraying my efforts to mask my emotions.
“How are we to know all this is true? It could be that your leader, Tlexnín, has a disagreement with Xaqilpa, and has sent you to assassinate him. You claim to want a diplomatic resolution, but it’s easy for you to state you made every effort and he didn’t reciprocate, leaving you no choice but to murder him. Your relationship to me was formed through deception, so how am I to trust you and your supposed mission? I still don’t believe we can simply let you go free.”
“The Ulxa have tarnish on their reputation as being historically in support of the Timuaq, despite ultimately allying with the rebellion. This much is undeniable, and with Qixana seen in some circles as a traitor for betraying the Timuaq, our stature on Pachil is somewhat diminished. So it is certainly a battle to regain respect and earn trust—that, I understand. However–”
Mexqutli looks at Haluiqa and I, then looks over to his belongings, then back to us. I’m assuming he wants something from over there, so I sigh and reluctantly nod for Haluiqa to throw Mexqutli’s satchel to him. Not taking any chances, I train my arrow on him while he rummages through the bag, just to be certain that he doesn’t unleash further trickery.
He reaches in and grabs a large golden disk engraved with the symbol of a bird encased in the sun, the symbol of the rebellion. The disk has two punctures at the top, which can be used to thread a rope through it if one desired to suspend the disk around their neck. Other than the markings, however, the disk itself isn’t embellished with much else, but the gold radiates even in the dimming sunlight.
“Haluiqa,” Mexqutli says, “I believe you understand what this disk represents.”
Haluiqa frowns and nods, his eyes cast downward and shoulders slump. I raise an eyebrow at this, uncertain at the implications, while maintaining my aim on Mexqutli.
“After the War of Liberation,” Haluiqa says, “every faction was given a number of these disks. Each talisman represents the factions’ commitment to diplomacy and peace on Pachil, granting safe passage to the bearer, so long as they come in peace. It was decided that the only people who could be entrusted with these disks are those from the academy in Chalaqta and the Iqsuwa—those who complete the rigorous trials, conducted not only to prove skills in combat, but to also determine one’s commitment to upholding the values of justice, truth, and harmony in our land.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” I say, then realizing I’ve lowered my bow and arrow due to the surprise, regain my composure to aim it at Mexqutli once again, “you’re an Iqsuwa?! The drunken warrior I easily disposed of? How are you upholding the values of peace? By being too inebriated to fight?”
I didn’t hold back my laughter at the absurdity of this old fool, whom I had no difficulty tracking and fighting, being one of the legendary warriors of Pachil, brought to near extinction once the Timuaq ruled. For most factions, if you wanted to be a well-trained warrior, you either went to the academy—the Maqanuiache in Chalaqta—or you became an Iqsuwa. Except, of course, you only got into the academy if you were of a noble lineage; for everyone else, unless you’re Tuatiu, you could only become an Iqsuwa, and even then, their training is notoriously meticulous and demanding, where only the best succeeded. All kidding aside, if this was all that remained of a once glorious and respectful class of combatants, then I can see why he never introduced himself as an Iqsuwa, and perhaps they are better off perished.
“I admit it has been difficult to cope with the attack on Tlequatlan,” Mexqutli says, and I sense restraint and slight embarrassment in his voice. However, it doesn’t prevent me from continuing my laughter.
“Why,” I ask, “was the best oxtli stored there?” More laughter, despite Haluiqa’s insistence that I calm down.
“My sister went missing after Xaqilpa and the Tapeu attacked.”
Sun and sky.
Mexqutli bites his lower lip and attempts to put on a brave face, but deep down, I know my barbs, in combination with the memory of his missing sister, hurt him personally. I lower my bow and walk over to the wounded man, head bowed.
“I–,” I start to say, resting a hand on his shoulder. Mexqutli flinches and tenses up as though he isn’t used to being touched, then looks at my hand before returning his gaze to the ground. This man has danced around the truth since we’ve met, so it would be easy for him to try to mislead me yet again with a heartbreaking tale. I guess I am gullible and naïve, looking at his defeated expression and feeling as though this was him being genuine, though perhaps it’s simply that I want to believe him. I am terrible with words, but I know the bare minimum I have to say to him, whether I accept what he says as true or not.
“I’m sorry. I was completely insensitive and out of line.”
“It is fine,” Mexqutli says somberly. “You did not know, and I did not say. I have disguised the truth, as you mentioned, so I am undeserving of mercy until I have earned your trust. I do not like bringing it up because it is a reminder that I have failed protecting the ones I love.”
“What happened?” I inquire as I sit beside him.
“Tlequatlan is where my family is from,” Mexqutli says, “and where my sister resides. When I learned about the attack, not much information could be given to me. I only heard of the news through the words of traveling Achope merchants returning from conducting business with the reluctant Auilqa, so they could not confirm much. However, what they did say was that the Tapeu had attacked, and Tlequatlan villagers were seen fleeing. They could not tell me if there were survivors, only of the destruction and smoke that could be seen from the Auilqa city, Qasiunqa, down and across the river from it.
“Learning about the attack and knowing I could be heading into hostile territory, I sought out any clothes that could mask my ties to the Ulxa, for my safety. I suppose some things, such as my manner of speech, are difficult to disguise.”
Mexqutli allows himself a slight grin before returning to recount what he knows about the village. I give him a moment to tell his tale at his own pace, even though my natural inclination is to speed this along so we can track the Tapeu and question them.
“She—Chantioq—is a resourceful woman, so I have hopes that she managed to find safety. But it has been difficult for me to continue with the mission I have been given, knowing she is unaccounted for. Without me abandoning my duties, I have no other way to find out if she has survived. But as an Iqsuwa, I am honor bound to execute the task assigned to me before I can search for my sister.”
I find it fascinating, and a bit concerning, that Mexqutli is continuing with his mission without dropping everything to find his missing sister. Though I would defend Tuatiu to the death, I would be hard pressed to perform a duty when my family was possibly in danger. Because of this, I question just how committed Mexqutli could be to this mission. However, I’m not Iqsuwa, so I suppose I can’t understand willfully restricting myself to putting a cause before my own family.
“Is that why you seek Sianchu? Is his raiding party responsible for the attack on Teleqa…” These Ulxa words are so difficult for me to pronounce. “On your home village?”
“Though I cannot be certain he is responsible,” Mexqutli says, “this Sianchu may know what the Tapeu—and, most likely, Xaqilpa—had planned. However, there is too much uncertainty, and all I want is to understand why the Tapeu seek violence against the Ulxa, when my people want to be left alone. When we were not asked to attend discussions regarding the reconstruction of Pachil, the Ulxa did not mind, for we simply wanted to exist in our corner of the land in peaceful seclusion, as we had done before the Timuaq. We know what role our people played in the titans’ rule, and many throughout Pachil view the Ulxa negatively, but all we want is for everyone to exist in peace, on their own terms.”
It’s difficult to argue a faction wanting to be left in solitude. For Tuatiu, it’s all we want, as well, although being the superior warriors we are, it’s easy to see why we have been selected to assist Tapeu in upholding the peace. However, if what Mexqutli says is true—which I’m apparently inclined to trust, knowing he possesses the disk of Iqsuwa—then something nefarious is taking place. Even then, there are still many questions remaining unanswered to understand his true intentions.
“What do you know of these gray creatures?” Haluiqa asks, changing the subject, of which I’m relieved, since not only can we get information on what we’re in for, but also this can help take Mexqutli’s mind off Chu… Chanta… his sister. “They seem supernatural, and I was led to believe all such things ceased to exist once the Eleven defeated the Timuaq. These monsters resemble what we faced during the war, yet they’re much larger and… more terrifying.”
“I am unsure,” Mexqutli says. “From what I have seen, they appear much like what was created by the Ulxa who fought on the side of the Timuaq, those brute warriors formed from the ritual. Because the Huetloia–“
“That drum you mentioned,” I say, then quickly apologize for interrupting yet again.
“Correct, the drum,” he continues. “It is told that such drums have been infused with essence from the underworld, blessed by our shamans at the monastery, the Tletlazotl. Conducting the ritual by rhythmically beating the drum reverberates through the realms to speak to the spirits as it draws the souls back into the mortal plane. They ultimately possess the deceased and imbue the bodies with a spectral energy.”
With my limited interaction with these people during the war, I forgot how obsessed the Ulxa are with the dead and spirits and such. On the one hand, all this talk about the underworld and spirits feels made up and exaggerated, like some fables that are too earnestly believed. As Haluiqa said, such magic was supposed to have ceased when our saviors, the Eleven, rescued us from the titans and their monsters. Yet on the other hand, what I witnessed on the battlefield along with what we’ve just fought over the last day or two, makes it hard for me to deny the plausibility of what Mexqutli is telling us.
“So you believe that Xaqilpa has been using the drum and begun forming an army to take down the Ulxa?” asks Haluiqa. It’s reminiscent of the War of Liberation, and if this is true, we have much to fear, especially if no heroes possess the capabilities of magic.
“After facing them on my journey to Qapauma,” Mexqutli says, letting out a long breath, “I can only conclude it is his doing. However, why he has begun using the Huetloia so far from Ulxa territory, I cannot be certain. There are the lands of, at minimum, two other factions between Tapeu and Ulxa, along with rivers and mountains that I doubt these creatures can traverse successfully.”
“You don’t think,” I say, a bit shocked at this realization, “he’s trying to imply the Ulxa are attacking us, and falsely accuse your people of instigating a war, do you?”
“While that is only speculation,” Mexqutli says, “the possibility is highly likely. Due to your people’s proximity, Xaqilpa could be using the Tuatiu as not only a sacrifice for his purposes, but also to assess the effectiveness of his capabilities.”
The thought of this infuriates me, and I begin pacing around, wanting to strike something. How could someone view an entire faction of people as disposable, especially during a time of supposed peace? The Tuatiu have answered whenever the Tapeu have called upon our weapons, yet their Arbiter will allow such treasonous behavior? What is the Tapeu trying to achieve with this, risking the ire of every other faction if it is discovered what they are up to?
My vision is blurred from adrenaline and rage. My mind is clouded with the thought of charging into the jungle and hunting down Sianchu, flaying him alive until he tells me everything he knows. I want to scale the walls of Qapauma and slit Xaqilpa’s throat for such deceit, then fill the Arbiter with arrows for allowing this treachery on his watch. I want to burn Qapauma to the ground, leaving it nothing but a heap of ash as a reminder for what happens when you betray the Tuatiu. Then again, have I once more fallen for the simple words and explanation given by Mexqutli? Could he be misleading us, disguising his true mission by playing on my emotions and desire to defend Tuatiu?
Long, deep breath in. Long, deep breath out.
Long, deep breath in. Long, deep breath out.
Okay, I think to myself, in an effort to calm down and not react right away, what can we do about this possible assault on our people? What are the next actionable steps?
“You have those daggers,” I say, pointing to the knives he dropped at the beginning of the interrogation. “They appear to be the only thing that efficiently takes those beasts down. What are they?”
Mexqutli hoists himself off the ground and retrieves the bejeweled obsidian daggers. He looks at the knives, juggling them in his hands as if testing their weight and balance.
“Before the war, I befriended a shaman. He was the one who conducted my ceremony upon becoming a Iqsuwa. When he learned I was summoned by Qixana to fight in the war, he gifted me these two daggers. He said they were blessed as a conduit to channel the essence of our ancestors to fight the undead. They have slain many of these gray monsters, although the ones we have faced recently appear to be more powerful than what was fought in the war. There is something empowering them to be much stronger.”
“There was a symbol, drawn or carved onto their foreheads,” I say, recalling my first encounter with the beasts—the ones that killed my friend, Sachia, and the other warriors. “It was a flame, with an eye inside it. Do you know what that means?”
“Unfortunately, I do not,” Mexqutli says, shaking his head and frowning. “I was not taught the runes and symbols like those at the monastery; only shamans know what they mean and how to use them. Xaqilpa, being one of the highest-ranking shaman among the Tletlazotl, will know much, to the detriment of any opposing him.”
There’s a silence between us as we all consider this, no other sounds but bird calls and insect chirps. The jungle has cooled while the sun sets, and though it’s not as humid, there’s a clamminess to the air that causes the chill to stick to my skin.
“So, what do we do?” I ask. Though this feels insurmountable, we can’t let Xaqilpa execute this attack on both the Tuatiu and Ulxa people. We have to act, but there isn’t a clear determination as to how we proceed.
“I will return to Iantana,” Haluiqa says, “to make sure our people are–“
“I can’t allow you to travel alone, with those beasts roaming the jungles!” I say. “I will go with you, then figure out a plan to proceed to Qapauma.”
“It is imperative we get to Qapauma to stop Xaqilpa and discuss diplomacy to Achutli,” Mexqutli says, “but protecting the people of your homeland is just as important. We should ensure the innocent are aware of the ensuing danger and can defend themselves. But then we must make haste to Qapauma.”
The three of us steel ourselves for the challenge ahead. Much remains unanswered by Mexqutli, but having seen the threat of the gray beasts, I know we must protect Iantana at the very least. Yet in the end, if what is said about Xaqilpa is true, and he isn’t stopped, it will be all for nothing.
