As the morning light filters through the jungle, the creatures around us carry about their business while our determined march continues on. Amidst the vibrant foliage, a surge of relief courses through me with the imminent return to the embrace of home. I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been away, but with everything that’s happened since I left to chase after Sianchu, Haluiqa, and the warrior party, it feels like countless seasons must have passed, when it hasn’t even been a moon cycle.
Providing more relief is that I’ve managed to find Haluiqa, the Tuatiu leader. He still recovers from his wounds, occasionally having to stop our trek to take a break and clean his bandages, but knowing he is still alive brings me much hope that Iantana and Tuatiu can return to our way of life under his astute leadership.
Our feet drag along the jungle floor, and we are overwhelmed by the exhaustion from our respective journeys and the combat of supernatural. Combined, I’d predict there is one complete outfit among the three of us, as each of our garments are shredded or soiled with blood—from ourselves or those gray monsters.
“You’re going to walk into Iantana wearing that?” I question Mexqutli’s choice of outfit. He still wears those awful pants, and has patched together red and black cloth to form some kind of shirt—the colors clearly signaling his Ulxa origin—not to mention the slew of tattoos covering his arms and body.
“They’re parts of the only items that aren’t entirely torn to pieces or stained in dirt and blood,” he says. He’s fortunate to be traveling with two people who can vouch for him upon our arrival; if he’s concerned about his clothing being torn to shreds, it will be nothing compared to what the Tuatiu will do to him.
A steady, rhythmic pounding echoes through the trees, and I feel the boom boom boomin my bones. Though we are still a good distance away from Iantana, my heart begins to race as shouts and screams overtake the noises of the jungle. The thump and crack of falling trees, the whoomp of heavy structures or mechanisms thudding to the ground, all startle me out of my sense of security and comfort.
The three of us look at each other with grave concern, and, without hesitation, race to the north toward the village. Though the path to Iantana has been roughly cleared, it isn’t like the official roads, with all the trees and boulders removed. This path has been loosely and haphazardly made—after all, the Tuatiu didn’t want much to do with the other factions of the continent until Haluiqa became leader. Therefore, we have to dodge and hurdle over fallen trees, or duck beneath low-hanging branches, swerving from one side to another to avoid any large stones or obstacles in our way.
When we arrive, the tall wooden walls along the village’s perimeter have been all but destroyed, splintered and shattered with large chunks removed. Men yell and fire arrows from atop towers behind the fractured walls at the enemies below, and when I see who—or, rather, what—they’re firing upon, my heart sinks: dozens and dozens of large creatures fill the scene with a sea of ashen gray skin, loosely hanging off bones and muscle and flapping about as they viciously swing their claws at the overwhelmed Tuatiu warriors.
The Tuatiu shoot arrows at the beasts, but the results are futile, as each one that pierces into the flesh doesn’t deter the monsters from carrying on with their destruction. Other warriors confront the creatures directly, slashing helplessly in hopes of striking something to take them down, but ultimately retreating and using anything they can get their hands on to protect and defend themselves from the monsters’ relentless attacks.
“Fire!” Mexqutli yells.
“We are!” a few of the warrior frustratedly shout in reply.
“No,” Mexqutli says, his Ulxa accent making the statement sound more biting than he intends, “use fire to slow these beasts down. Or slit their throats. Grab torches to swing at them,“ he runs toward a group of warriors with staffs and sticks near them, picking up a few to demonstrate as he renacts his advice.
“Where are your animals?” he asks. After everyone passes around stupefied looks to one another, Haluiqa eventually chimes in, pointing toward the west part of the village.
“Over there,” he says, “but why? What will the animals do?”
“I need their fat,” Mexqutli says, starting to walk toward the pens. “Grab any buckets or containers or anything that can carry their fat, and come with me.”
“I still don’t under–“
“The fat,” Mexqutli says, now yelling as he picks up his pace. “Wrap cloth behind the arrowhead, coat them in the fat, then set them alight.”
“We take the hunted carcasses over there to be butchered,” Haluiqa says while pointing to an isolated building near the pens.
“Inuxeq,” Mexqutli shouts, stops, then turns around to face me, “here!” He tosses one of his obsidian blades to me, then races off.
The warriors are still confused after his explanation, but the roars, grunts, and wails of combat close by jars them out of their stupor. They all run toward the pens at a full sprint, leaping out of the way of swooping claws and charging monsters. One gets slammed in the side by a fellow Tuatiu warrior, thrown into him by one of the beasts, and they tumble off to the side.
Haluiqa and I survey the grizzly scene: the stench of blood and rotting death penetrates our nostrils, mounds of human remains pile up around the battlefield, and shrieks and cries overwhelm our ears. A group of warriors cower in a slow retreat, taking methodical steps backward as they feebly fend off the overpowering attacks. Haluiqa charges over toward them and barks orders, holding out his sword, challenging the monsters to attack him. The ferocity in the men’s attacks intensifies, hacking fiercely and shouting their war cries through gnashed teeth.
One gray creature dashes toward them, grunting and snarling as his heavy feet stomp impressions into the ground. I rush at it, blade in hand, chasing it down before it can reach the group of men. I’m no match for its long strides as it gains ground on them and pulls away from me. Midstep, I twist my torso and swing my arm back, then propel the blade forward, throwing it end over end at the monster. The Eleven be praised, the black blade strikes the beast, sticking into what remains of its lower back. It screeches a mighty yell, stumbling forward and writhing in pain as its momentum causes it to slide numerous paces forward. Before it can reach where the men stand, the body disintegrates into ash, and the dagger drops and tumbles as particles blow away in the breeze.
I swoop down to retrieve the knife just before the monsters close by turn to spot me, the one that felled their compatriot. They may not be human, but I can tell right away that they’re angry with me, growling and baring their teeth as they stop progressing toward Haluiqa and the warriors, and instead clamber toward me. I clutch the obsidian dagger tightly and brace for a brawl.
Off to my left, I hear the guttural grunts of a man giving his all in the fight, but not having much left to give. He sounds eager and desperate, and when I look over, I immediately recognize who it is: the stocky man in an orange and red tunic and neck carrying numerous quipus is fighting off three beasts at once. As much as I would love to watch him die, it should be at my hands, not that of these creatures.
“Sianchu!” I shout, long and loud, and take off like a jaguar in his direction. I leave the monsters that began their pursuit of me in my dust, rushing to assist the Tapeu man who has a lot to answer for.
While they’re busy attacking Sianchu, I sprint, then slide on the ground, slashing the legs of one beast before he can bring his meaty paws down onto the man. It arcs its back and screams in agony, and before it can wither away, I lunge to strike at the next monster over. It swipes hard at Sianchu, and the motion of its arm causes it to elude my blade, contorting just out of my reach.
“Where did you–“
“Not yet,” I yell at Sianchu. “You talk once we’ve won here.”
With five creatures eager to rip me to shreds, their pointed teeth chomping in anticipation, Sianchu seizes his chance to strike down the distracted monsters. He swings his sword, constructed like a paddle with multiple obsidian pieces embedded around the edges, tearing up the loose skin of a beast’s arm to reveal blackened and decaying muscle, black viscous liquid trickling down. The monster backhands his foe, but Sianchu ducks and hops out of the way.
I jab the dagger at one of the beasts, hoping just a poke will be enough to vanquish it. While the creatures appear simple-minded, their awareness is frighteningly keen, and it avoids my half-hearted attempt with ease. It immediately swats at me, its open palm smacking me as if I was a pestering mosquito, sending me flying a distance away. After crashing onto the ground, my bones reverberating from the thud, I look at my torso to see a large, red mark from where I was struck.
Sianchu brings his sword down with a chop, tearing more of the gray flesh to expose the rotting insides, though the creature is undeterred by the wound. It brings its claws down in a swoop, causing Sianchu to jump backward to avoid it. An opportunistic beast nearby charges and punches Sianchu the moment he lands, knocking him to the ground. Before the monster can pounce on top of him, he raises his sword to shield his face and neck, fighting off the gnashing teeth as the beast snaps at him, black and brown spit drooling onto Sianchu’s face.
Hollers of pain and anguish come from my right, and as I look over, the three other creatures pursuing me have begun tearing through the warriors as they desperately try to fend off the attacks. Their swords and axes are no match for the sheer strength and power of the brutes, batting away their weapons and ripping them apart with their tan, gnarled claws. While I’m distracted, a beast lunges at me, roaring something primordial, coiling back and ready to strike. Helplessly, I hold out the obsidian dagger and fall away to dodge the oncoming attack. As I’m about to land onto my back, the blade barely brushes against the flaking gray flesh, not enough to cut into the skin, and the monster topples onto me, squishing my legs beneath the weight of its massive body, swollen and bloated with the sour spoiled smell of rotting meat.
It chomps at me, furiously biting down while my arms hoist the creature off of me and hold it back. It then lets out a bellowing howl… in pain? The monster writhes back, face looking up as it cries out, and, seizing my chance, I try to roll out from underneath it, but one of my legs remains pinned in place. Its back is alight, the flames spreading out from a protruding arrow, and the beast swats behind it, eager to remove the source of its pain. It shifts its weight just enough to free my leg, and I hurriedly scurry away.
But where is the obsidian dagger? I frantically search the ground for it, casting my hands all over the dirt with the hopes of locating it with my fingers. Too much dirt and dust have been kicked up from the chaos of the fighting that I see nothing but a few figures in the hazy cloud. A few more flames soar through the sky, raining down onto the battlefield, occasionally striking the creatures and setting them ablaze. It buys me enough time to completely roll over onto all fours, and I anxiously pivot my head this way and that to find the dagger.
The ground vibrates with the thunderous steps of a monster, the pulsating grows more intense with each thwomp. Through the haze, a large imposing figure gradually comes into view, charging toward me at tremendous speed. Just then, my hand feels something: a smooth handle that I quickly wrap my fingers around. I swing the weapon around, pointing it at the incoming creature. The blade impales the beast, causing it to roar in fury, but it doesn’t disintegrate like others have when stabbed. I glance at the weapon, and to my dismay, realize it’s a plain dagger, the metallic blade slowly sinks into what once was the stomach of the monster. It shrugs off my attack and swings its limbs, closing its arms in on me.
Before I’m skewered by its claws, the creature erupts in a puff of ash, which falls delicately to the ground and overtop of me, blanketing me in the powdery residuals. I’m too relieved of being alive to be disgusted by the realization of what I’m covered in. I look for the one who spared me of a terrible fate, but before I can thank them, Mexqutli is running off toward another group of beasts that have laid waste to a large number of warriors, their lifeless bodies strewn about.
With no moment to lose, I pick myself up and seek the obsidian dagger once more, thankfully finding it a few steps away. I run to assist Mexqutli with the dozen or so remaining creatures, scooping up the dagger and clutching my wounded ribs with my free hand while I hurry. As I sprint to him, a hulking gray creature lurks at the periphery of my vision. I stop, prepared to take on another monster en route to aiding Mexqutli, but when I take stock in the features of this beast, I’m left frozen in place.
Although it still wears its long, black hair tied in a tight knot, the skin around its head has begun sagging, melting off its body. The muscles that were once so prominent are now visible through the ripped flesh, blackening and rotting around exposed bone. Carved into its decaying forehead is a grim, familiar sight: the eye in the flame. The face might be recognizable despite the dangling skin, but it no longer possesses the vitality it once had, and I’m mortified when my eyes fall upon its likeness.
“Sachia?” I say, less as a question than a terrified realization. It may have been him once, but no longer. His eyes lack any life, nearly entirely black with a film of puss over them. His arms almost drag at his side, bloated and swollen larger than what should be contained on a body of his size. He lets out a groan—does he recognize my voice?
The obsidian dagger shakes in my hand, and I can barely hold it out threateningly. Can I strike my friend? He lunges at me, swooping his hands to swipe my face, fingernails now turned into decrepit, browning claws. I stumble backward, managing to narrowly avoid being struck, but his attacks are vicious, relentless. One swing follows the next in rapid succession, and I desperately crawl back as his fingers sweep at my legs. Eventually, one of his fists catches my face, knocking me hard to the ground. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth while my jaw and cheek ache from the blow.
Sachia—or what was once Sachia—lets out an otherworldly roar up toward the heavens before bringing his fists up and around, then smashing them down overtop of me. I fling myself to the side, rolling out of the way as his hands form two large craters where I once sat. The dagger is still in my hand, but every fiber of my being doesn’t want to use it against my friend. He has to be inside that beast somewhere. He must know it’s me he’s attacking.
With my heart pounding and my breath coming in ragged gasps, I manage to scramble to my feet, my gaze fixed on the abomination that was once my dear friend. His relentless assault continues, his grotesque form moving with surprising agility despite his decayed appearance. Every strike he delivers feels like a dagger to my soul, a painful reminder of the bond we once shared. As I desperately fend off his attacks, I catch glimpses of memories flashing before my eyes—moments of laughter, shared secrets, and the unbreakable camaraderie we once had. Now, they seem like echoes from a distant past.
Sachia's monstrous growls and snarls echo in my ears, a haunting combination of agony and despair. As he raises his twisted claws for another strike, I muster every ounce of strength and determination I have left. With a burst of resolve, I sidestep his attack, narrowly avoiding the lethal blow. In that fleeting moment of vulnerability, a blur charges into the fray. His weapon strikes Sachia with a thunderous force, delivering a decisive blow that sends him crashing to the ground, then disintegrates into a million specs of ash and dust.
The deafening muffled silence that follows is punctuated only by the heavy panting of the victorious warrior. I stand there, staring at the scene before me—seeing in my mind’s eye the lifeless form of the creature that was Sachia, the once-vibrant spirit vanquished into oblivion. Tears blur my vision as I drop to my knees, the weight of the battle and of my conflicting emotions finally crashing down upon me.
Gently, a hand rests on my shoulder, offering comfort and solace. It's Mexqutli, his face etched with concern and empathy. Without a word, he helps me to my feet, and together we survey what remains of the fight, snapping my focus back to the battle at hand.
More fire arrows soar in the air around me, lighting my way through the cloud of kicked up soot and Eleven know what else. Mexqutli gives me one last look, inspecting me up and down to check if I’ll be okay. He takes off to rejoin the fray, and I slash and hack at any gray limb or body part I can see in the haze, swooping the blade wildly until it comes in contact with any creature in sight. More monsters moan and howl as they’re struck with fire, succumbing to the flames or my and Mexqutli’s strikes.
There’s an eerie silence after the last of the beasts perishes, and the dust and dirt finally has a chance to settle onto the ground, allowing us to assess the grizzly scene. Heaps of body parts form small hills at various places on the battlefield, a mixture of gray burnt flesh and tan human skin. Swirls of red and black blood pool and stream down gradual slopes. Ash from the burning walls and vanquished creatures flutters in the wind. Now that I can view the faces of those we fought, from the ones that weren’t struck by the obsidian blades, I see that not only Sachia became one of the gray beasts, but many of our former brethren were transformed, and that we had to fight our own fellow Tuatiu. Any warrior who still stands either helps those who are wounded get back into Iantana or carry the deceased and toss them into a pile, torches close by in preparation of a pyre.
“Are you okay?” I hear the hissing, staggered voice of Mexqutli say as he places a hand on my shoulder and inspects me up and down.
“Where is Sianchu?” I ask with venom in my voice. Whether my anger is for him or a result of what I had to overcome, I can’t determine. All I know is I need to take these feelings out on somebody, and he’s the perfect target for my ire.
“Halt a moment,” Mexqutli says, “and let us tend to your wounds.”
“Where is he!” I scream, no longer an inquiry, but a demand.
My head throbs with the pulse of my heartbeat, adrenaline aiding me in forgetting my wounds. My eyes scan the field for that short, stout scum, Sianchu, and I spot him hobbling about, dragging the tip of his sword on the ground while he clutches his arm with his other hand, covered in crimson.
“You!” I shout, pointing the black blade of the dagger at him. “You have a lot to answer for, you Tapeu rat!”
Sianchu stops and looks at me in surprise, startled by the accusation. Mexqutli chases me down and jogs alongside me. Seeing this, Sianchu’s face turns from shock to outrage.
“What are you doing with an Ulxa!” he says, weakly holding up his sword as if readying to fight. Am I truly the only person in Tuatiu unable to recognize Mexqutli’s faction of origin? “He brought this destruction upon your people, and will do so to others!”
“Me?” Mexqutli says, offended at the claim. “It was Tapeu who attacked Tlequatlan and the Ulxa, not the other way around!”
“Tapeu has done no such thing!” Sianchu says. “I have under good authority that–“
“Your authority feeds you lies!” Mexqutli interjects. “These beasts are the creation of your Arbiter and his advisor, Xaqilpa.”
Sianchu scoffs at the allegation, looking around in disbelief for anyone to come to his support. As he approaches, Haluiqa stands off to the side, arms folded while assessing the situation. I wield the obsidian dagger, ready to intervene if necessary, but stop myself after a few steps. It occurs to me that, if I let these two debate and argue with each other, they may make a statement that reveals a hidden truth and could shed some light on what’s happening in Tuatiu and Pachil.
“And you all are foolish enough to believe this deviousness?” Sianchu says, arms held open as if pleading with us to join his argument.
“What happened when we got separated, Sianchu?” asks Haluiqa. “There was the ambush from the creatures that took out my men, and when I came to, you had vanished. I assumed you were either dead or had returned to Qapauma, and I begun searching for you, just in case, continuing onward to the capital.”
“I…” Sianchu begins, eyes cast to the ground and head lowered. “I regret that I assumed you were dead after the attack. You looked as though the life had left you, and I feared I was the lone survivor. Knowing I couldn’t make it to Qapauma with my injuries, I returned to Iantana to inform your people, although my wounds made it difficult for me to travel in a timely manner. I had to spend a day or so just to recover.”
“So you left him to die!” I couldn’t contain the outburst, stepping to Sianchu and ready to drive my blade through his fat torso. “You didn’t check to confirm he was dead and let him be exposed to these monsters in our jungles? Monsters that your ruler allowed to be created?”
“What you speak of is treason, little lady,” Sianchu says condescendingly. “For our ruler to—yes, our ruler, no matter how many times you’re going to interrupt me. For Achutli to unleash such ravenous monsters upon the people he has sworn to protect while efforts have been made to rebuild Pachil is unfathomable!”
I’m enraged, and I want to yell at him for all the pain and devastation he’s brought on our people, but I fight myself to not say anything further.
Long, deep breath in. Long, deep breath out.
“Tell us what you think is happening,” Haluiqa says, stepping between me and Sianchu while holding out his hands in abatement. “Clearly, we all have pieces of information, but not the entire tapestry.”
Sianchu looks irate, pacing from one side to another and shaking his head. When he appears ready to say something, he stops himself, then shakes his head and resumes pacing some more. Eventually, Haluiqa rests a hand on his shoulder, causing Sianchu to stop in place. Our leader gives the Tapeu man a consoling look and a nod, which calms Sianchu enough to speak.
“I was instructed by the Arbiter to gather warriors from any region I could because he had been informed that there was a threat to the south. His sources told him that the Ulxa were preparing to overthrown the–“
Mexqutli interrupts with what sounds like intense words and accusations—being honest, I can’t make out his precise words due to his heavy accent and blinding rage as he says them—but Haluiqa shouts over him and demands that he let Sianchu finish, reminding us all that we’re only sharing what we know, not saying anything declarative. After a beat, Sianchu resumes his recounting.
“The Arbiter was told, I’m not sure by whom, that the Ulxa were preparing to overthrow the governing Tapeu, disrupting the reconstruction and taking the throne for themselves. I was following his orders–“
“Orders that got our men killed,” I grumble, apparently loud enough to receive scolding from Haluiqa. Sianchu repeats that he was following orders, but it still infuriates me, that such misinformation led to the loss of so many innocent lives.
Long, deep breath in. Long, deep breath out.
“Okay, so that is one part of the story,” Haluiqa says calmly. “Mexqutli, please tell us what you know, and we will not interrupt you, correct, everyone?” Reluctantly, Sianchu and I nod our agreement. Mexqutli has deceived me before, so I prepare to pay close attention to what he’s about to say, making sure there are no holes in the tapestry he weaves.
“From my understanding,” Mexqutli says, placing emphasis on this qualification to ensure we have heard and acknowledged it, “Achutli has acted on the influence of a deceitful defector, Xaqilpa, to engage in a war with the Ulxa. Xaqilpa believes he should be the rightful ruler of the Ulxa and will go to the ends of destroying his own people to achieve this—this has already begun, with the destruction of Tlequatlan, the authority to do so deemed permissible by the Arbiter. He has stolen invaluable artifacts, and given what I’ve witnessed of these gray creatures, I have come to believe that Xaqilpa has used one of the artifacts to create these beasts, as if to form an army of supernatural warriors for his purposes.”
“Why on Pachil would the Arbiter allow the attack of other factions that are allies to the Tapeu?” Sianchu says accusatorially. “If we need all the warriors we can obtain, it makes no sense to have these creatures attack those who support us. And if the Ulxa truly are allies, it makes no sense to attack them, either.”
“My theories,” Mexqutli answers with surprising poise, “are that either Xaqilpa is testing the artifact to learn what it is capable of, or he has lost control of his creations, and they are wreaking havoc, which is why the beasts have attacked Tuatiu, due to its proximity to Qapauma and Tapeu.”
“And he possesses the Disc of Iqsuwa,” Haluiqa states, turning to Mexqutli and nodding, prompting the Ulxa warrior to search for his belongings, thrown about the ground as he discarded them before joining the fracas and fighting. He returns with the disc in hand, displaying the markings etched on its surface.
“Sun and sky,” Sianchu says in astonishment. “Iqsuwa still exist? I had believed most were killed during the War of Liberation. I…”
His voice trails off as he continues to stare admiringly at the disc. Though there is still a looming threat hanging over all of us, the easing of tension is palpable, the lightest any of our shoulders has likely felt in quite some time, allowing us a rare moment of reprieve.
“I…” Sianchu searches for the words to say. “I don’t understand why the Arbiter would do such a thing, and I’m still unconvinced he would attack without a firm reason and plenty of evidence. I’m not dismissing what you’ve said outright, Ulxa, but I’m finding it difficult to completely abandon my orders and go against what the Arbiter commands. Something must’ve led him to trust in Xaqilpa. You have to understand, I can’t believe that he would act without some justification.”
“We’re all trying to figure out what is taking place,” I say. “We’ll need to work together to fully understand why this is happening, and how to proceed.”
“What do you know of Xaqilpa?” Haluiqa asks Sianchu. “He is stated to be a councilor to the Arbiter, so you must have interacted with him at the court.”
“He was always shrouded in mystery,” he responds. “Our purposes in the Arbiter’s court are different from each other, so we haven’t interacted as frequently as I have with other advisors. When all the councilors were in the same room, he predominately said little, but I did occasionally see him whispering to the Arbiter. I’m uncertain what was discussed, however.
“Useless,” Mexqutli says impatiently. “Pachil will be a smoldering ruin by the time we find all of the answers. We must go to Qapauma and confront Achutli and Xaqilpa at once.”
“I understand your urgency,” Haluiqa says, “but Inuxeq is right. We can’t proceed with haste until we have a better understanding of what is occurring.”
“Besides,” I say, “we will need to help clear up the damage and destruction here, to make sure everyone is recovering. Iantana is vulnerable to a second attack, especially with our numbers depleted.”
“So we stand around idly,” Mexqutli says, “and allow Xaqilpa to continue destroying every faction on Pachil?”
“Of course not,” I say, “but the four of us can’t just storm into Qapauma with partly formed allegations.”
“Why are you so eager for us to engage in combat with creatures we’re clearly unprepared for?” Sianchu asks, causing me to feel concerned about where this is going.
“We must do something before these monsters harm any more innocent people,” Mexqutli says as if the reason is obvious. “There is no time to be wasted, and with my blades, I can assist with holding these creatures at bay before they can cause any more destruction.”
“Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” Sianchu says. I attempt to admonish him for the outburst, but it’s too late.
“Excuse me?” Mexqutli says. “You are going to ignore that I came to the aid of Tuatiu people in peril? Are you saying that I created these beasts, only to defeat them, so that I may appear as a savior?”
“It’s convenient,” Sianchu says, “how you happen to have the one weapon that vanquishes them all, and you know that they can be defeated with fire.”
“That is all from observation and having faced them in recent battles,” Mexqutli says. “And what creatures cannot be defeated by fire?”
“This may all be part of some twisted ruse to create infighting among the factions, just as the Arbiter had indicated was the Ulxa plan. How do I know you didn’t kill an Iqsuwa and steal the disc from his corpse?” Sianchu says accusatorially.
“Kill an Iqsuwa?” says Mexqutli, baffled. “Now it is evident you have gone mad. Did you strike your head during that combat, or have you always been this moronic?”
The two childish men stand a hand’s length apart from one another, waiting for an excuse to forego polite formalities. Before the two can come to blows, Haluiqa steps in to separate them.
“If all people in Tapeu think the way you do, Pachil is doomed,” Mexqutli says, goading Sianchu to hit him. Fortunately for them both, Haluiqa and I now stand between them.
“We have just faced a terrible battle,” Haluiqa says, shouting above the two adversaries, “and we have received and shared some difficult information between one another. We are clearly exhausted—from travel and from combat—and should get some rest before someone dances with the jaguar and acts regretfully.”
With tempers somewhat cooled, Mexqutli and Sianchu stand separated, backs turned to one another and breathing heavily from exertion.
“I must think about this, about all of this, but you’ve done far more to harm your cause, ‘Iqsuwa’,” Sianchu says with a biting tone before storming off toward the center of the village. Haluiqa sighs, hands holding his hips as he hunches over slightly, exhausted.
“I don’t blame him for not trusting you,” I tell Mexqutli, “since you’ve been deceptive to me ever since we met. It will take some time, and we will need to gather more information, before we can proceed with a plan, especially one that uses any information you’ve stated.”
“The longer we wait, the more people will suffer,” Mexqutli says. “I cannot sit and do nothing.”
The Ulxa man walks away, opposite of the village. I start to chase after him, but Haluiqa grabs my shoulder and holds me back, preventing me from advancing any further.
“Let us give them both some time and space,” he says. “If it is Mexqutli’s wish to march to the capital, then so be it, but we should not get entangled into his web of chaos without exploring the facts for ourselves and our people.”
As much as it pains me to resist, I stay in place, heeding Haluiqa’s words. Perhaps he’s correct, and we’re all not thinking clearly due to being battle worn and exhausted, requiring some recovery before we can proceed. However, something within me is suspicious and concerned, about everything. Someone must be withholding information—I would suspect everyone hasn’t been entirely truthful—as the pieces don’t fully connect, and uncovering more might put us in the way of danger. It’s possible more harm than good has come from the events of today, emotionally and physically, having not had a spare moment to reflect one what I just encountered and had to overcome; I do not look forward to evaluating my feelings and emotions when I take stock at what I witnessed. The knowledge we’ve just obtained, no matter how complete or partial, may have set us on a path to our demise.
As the morning light filters through the jungle, the creatures around us carry about their business while our determined march continues on. Amidst the vibrant foliage, a surge of relief courses through me with the imminent return to the embrace of home. I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been away, but with everything that’s happened since I left to chase after Sianchu, Haluiqa, and the warrior party, it feels like countless seasons must have passed, when it hasn’t even been a moon cycle.
Providing more relief is that I’ve managed to find Haluiqa, the Tuatiu leader. He still recovers from his wounds, occasionally having to stop our trek to take a break and clean his bandages, but knowing he is still alive brings me much hope that Iantana and Tuatiu can return to our way of life under his astute leadership.
Our feet drag along the jungle floor, and we are overwhelmed by the exhaustion from our respective journeys and the combat of supernatural. Combined, I’d predict there is one complete outfit among the three of us, as each of our garments are shredded or soiled with blood—from ourselves or those gray monsters.
“You’re going to walk into Iantana wearing that?” I question Mexqutli’s choice of outfit. He still wears those awful pants, and has patched together red and black cloth to form some kind of shirt—the colors clearly signaling his Ulxa origin—not to mention the slew of tattoos covering his arms and body.
“They’re parts of the only items that aren’t entirely torn to pieces or stained in dirt and blood,” he says. He’s fortunate to be traveling with two people who can vouch for him upon our arrival; if he’s concerned about his clothing being torn to shreds, it will be nothing compared to what the Tuatiu will do to him.
A steady, rhythmic pounding echoes through the trees, and I feel the boom boom boomin my bones. Though we are still a good distance away from Iantana, my heart begins to race as shouts and screams overtake the noises of the jungle. The thump and crack of falling trees, the whoomp of heavy structures or mechanisms thudding to the ground, all startle me out of my sense of security and comfort.
The three of us look at each other with grave concern, and, without hesitation, race to the north toward the village. Though the path to Iantana has been roughly cleared, it isn’t like the official roads, with all the trees and boulders removed. This path has been loosely and haphazardly made—after all, the Tuatiu didn’t want much to do with the other factions of the continent until Haluiqa became leader. Therefore, we have to dodge and hurdle over fallen trees, or duck beneath low-hanging branches, swerving from one side to another to avoid any large stones or obstacles in our way.
When we arrive, the tall wooden walls along the village’s perimeter have been all but destroyed, splintered and shattered with large chunks removed. Men yell and fire arrows from atop towers behind the fractured walls at the enemies below, and when I see who—or, rather, what—they’re firing upon, my heart sinks: dozens and dozens of large creatures fill the scene with a sea of ashen gray skin, loosely hanging off bones and muscle and flapping about as they viciously swing their claws at the overwhelmed Tuatiu warriors.
The Tuatiu shoot arrows at the beasts, but the results are futile, as each one that pierces into the flesh doesn’t deter the monsters from carrying on with their destruction. Other warriors confront the creatures directly, slashing helplessly in hopes of striking something to take them down, but ultimately retreating and using anything they can get their hands on to protect and defend themselves from the monsters’ relentless attacks.
“Fire!” Mexqutli yells.
“We are!” a few of the warrior frustratedly shout in reply.
“No,” Mexqutli says, his Ulxa accent making the statement sound more biting than he intends, “use fire to slow these beasts down. Or slit their throats. Grab torches to swing at them,“ he runs toward a group of warriors with staffs and sticks near them, picking up a few to demonstrate as he renacts his advice.
“Where are your animals?” he asks. After everyone passes around stupefied looks to one another, Haluiqa eventually chimes in, pointing toward the west part of the village.
“Over there,” he says, “but why? What will the animals do?”
“I need their fat,” Mexqutli says, starting to walk toward the pens. “Grab any buckets or containers or anything that can carry their fat, and come with me.”
“I still don’t under–“
“The fat,” Mexqutli says, now yelling as he picks up his pace. “Wrap cloth behind the arrowhead, coat them in the fat, then set them alight.”
“We take the hunted carcasses over there to be butchered,” Haluiqa says while pointing to an isolated building near the pens.
“Inuxeq,” Mexqutli shouts, stops, then turns around to face me, “here!” He tosses one of his obsidian blades to me, then races off.
The warriors are still confused after his explanation, but the roars, grunts, and wails of combat close by jars them out of their stupor. They all run toward the pens at a full sprint, leaping out of the way of swooping claws and charging monsters. One gets slammed in the side by a fellow Tuatiu warrior, thrown into him by one of the beasts, and they tumble off to the side.
Haluiqa and I survey the grizzly scene: the stench of blood and rotting death penetrates our nostrils, mounds of human remains pile up around the battlefield, and shrieks and cries overwhelm our ears. A group of warriors cower in a slow retreat, taking methodical steps backward as they feebly fend off the overpowering attacks. Haluiqa charges over toward them and barks orders, holding out his sword, challenging the monsters to attack him. The ferocity in the men’s attacks intensifies, hacking fiercely and shouting their war cries through gnashed teeth.
One gray creature dashes toward them, grunting and snarling as his heavy feet stomp impressions into the ground. I rush at it, blade in hand, chasing it down before it can reach the group of men. I’m no match for its long strides as it gains ground on them and pulls away from me. Midstep, I twist my torso and swing my arm back, then propel the blade forward, throwing it end over end at the monster. The Eleven be praised, the black blade strikes the beast, sticking into what remains of its lower back. It screeches a mighty yell, stumbling forward and writhing in pain as its momentum causes it to slide numerous paces forward. Before it can reach where the men stand, the body disintegrates into ash, and the dagger drops and tumbles as particles blow away in the breeze.
I swoop down to retrieve the knife just before the monsters close by turn to spot me, the one that felled their compatriot. They may not be human, but I can tell right away that they’re angry with me, growling and baring their teeth as they stop progressing toward Haluiqa and the warriors, and instead clamber toward me. I clutch the obsidian dagger tightly and brace for a brawl.
Off to my left, I hear the guttural grunts of a man giving his all in the fight, but not having much left to give. He sounds eager and desperate, and when I look over, I immediately recognize who it is: the stocky man in an orange and red tunic and neck carrying numerous quipus is fighting off three beasts at once. As much as I would love to watch him die, it should be at my hands, not that of these creatures.
“Sianchu!” I shout, long and loud, and take off like a jaguar in his direction. I leave the monsters that began their pursuit of me in my dust, rushing to assist the Tapeu man who has a lot to answer for.
While they’re busy attacking Sianchu, I sprint, then slide on the ground, slashing the legs of one beast before he can bring his meaty paws down onto the man. It arcs its back and screams in agony, and before it can wither away, I lunge to strike at the next monster over. It swipes hard at Sianchu, and the motion of its arm causes it to elude my blade, contorting just out of my reach.
“Where did you–“
“Not yet,” I yell at Sianchu. “You talk once we’ve won here.”
With five creatures eager to rip me to shreds, their pointed teeth chomping in anticipation, Sianchu seizes his chance to strike down the distracted monsters. He swings his sword, constructed like a paddle with multiple obsidian pieces embedded around the edges, tearing up the loose skin of a beast’s arm to reveal blackened and decaying muscle, black viscous liquid trickling down. The monster backhands his foe, but Sianchu ducks and hops out of the way.
I jab the dagger at one of the beasts, hoping just a poke will be enough to vanquish it. While the creatures appear simple-minded, their awareness is frighteningly keen, and it avoids my half-hearted attempt with ease. It immediately swats at me, its open palm smacking me as if I was a pestering mosquito, sending me flying a distance away. After crashing onto the ground, my bones reverberating from the thud, I look at my torso to see a large, red mark from where I was struck.
Sianchu brings his sword down with a chop, tearing more of the gray flesh to expose the rotting insides, though the creature is undeterred by the wound. It brings its claws down in a swoop, causing Sianchu to jump backward to avoid it. An opportunistic beast nearby charges and punches Sianchu the moment he lands, knocking him to the ground. Before the monster can pounce on top of him, he raises his sword to shield his face and neck, fighting off the gnashing teeth as the beast snaps at him, black and brown spit drooling onto Sianchu’s face.
Hollers of pain and anguish come from my right, and as I look over, the three other creatures pursuing me have begun tearing through the warriors as they desperately try to fend off the attacks. Their swords and axes are no match for the sheer strength and power of the brutes, batting away their weapons and ripping them apart with their tan, gnarled claws. While I’m distracted, a beast lunges at me, roaring something primordial, coiling back and ready to strike. Helplessly, I hold out the obsidian dagger and fall away to dodge the oncoming attack. As I’m about to land onto my back, the blade barely brushes against the flaking gray flesh, not enough to cut into the skin, and the monster topples onto me, squishing my legs beneath the weight of its massive body, swollen and bloated with the sour spoiled smell of rotting meat.
It chomps at me, furiously biting down while my arms hoist the creature off of me and hold it back. It then lets out a bellowing howl… in pain? The monster writhes back, face looking up as it cries out, and, seizing my chance, I try to roll out from underneath it, but one of my legs remains pinned in place. Its back is alight, the flames spreading out from a protruding arrow, and the beast swats behind it, eager to remove the source of its pain. It shifts its weight just enough to free my leg, and I hurriedly scurry away.
But where is the obsidian dagger? I frantically search the ground for it, casting my hands all over the dirt with the hopes of locating it with my fingers. Too much dirt and dust have been kicked up from the chaos of the fighting that I see nothing but a few figures in the hazy cloud. A few more flames soar through the sky, raining down onto the battlefield, occasionally striking the creatures and setting them ablaze. It buys me enough time to completely roll over onto all fours, and I anxiously pivot my head this way and that to find the dagger.
The ground vibrates with the thunderous steps of a monster, the pulsating grows more intense with each thwomp. Through the haze, a large imposing figure gradually comes into view, charging toward me at tremendous speed. Just then, my hand feels something: a smooth handle that I quickly wrap my fingers around. I swing the weapon around, pointing it at the incoming creature. The blade impales the beast, causing it to roar in fury, but it doesn’t disintegrate like others have when stabbed. I glance at the weapon, and to my dismay, realize it’s a plain dagger, the metallic blade slowly sinks into what once was the stomach of the monster. It shrugs off my attack and swings its limbs, closing its arms in on me.
Before I’m skewered by its claws, the creature erupts in a puff of ash, which falls delicately to the ground and overtop of me, blanketing me in the powdery residuals. I’m too relieved of being alive to be disgusted by the realization of what I’m covered in. I look for the one who spared me of a terrible fate, but before I can thank them, Mexqutli is running off toward another group of beasts that have laid waste to a large number of warriors, their lifeless bodies strewn about.
With no moment to lose, I pick myself up and seek the obsidian dagger once more, thankfully finding it a few steps away. I run to assist Mexqutli with the dozen or so remaining creatures, scooping up the dagger and clutching my wounded ribs with my free hand while I hurry. As I sprint to him, a hulking gray creature lurks at the periphery of my vision. I stop, prepared to take on another monster en route to aiding Mexqutli, but when I take stock in the features of this beast, I’m left frozen in place.
Although it still wears its long, black hair tied in a tight knot, the skin around its head has begun sagging, melting off its body. The muscles that were once so prominent are now visible through the ripped flesh, blackening and rotting around exposed bone. Carved into its decaying forehead is a grim, familiar sight: the eye in the flame. The face might be recognizable despite the dangling skin, but it no longer possesses the vitality it once had, and I’m mortified when my eyes fall upon its likeness.
“Sachia?” I say, less as a question than a terrified realization. It may have been him once, but no longer. His eyes lack any life, nearly entirely black with a film of puss over them. His arms almost drag at his side, bloated and swollen larger than what should be contained on a body of his size. He lets out a groan—does he recognize my voice?
The obsidian dagger shakes in my hand, and I can barely hold it out threateningly. Can I strike my friend? He lunges at me, swooping his hands to swipe my face, fingernails now turned into decrepit, browning claws. I stumble backward, managing to narrowly avoid being struck, but his attacks are vicious, relentless. One swing follows the next in rapid succession, and I desperately crawl back as his fingers sweep at my legs. Eventually, one of his fists catches my face, knocking me hard to the ground. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth while my jaw and cheek ache from the blow.
Sachia—or what was once Sachia—lets out an otherworldly roar up toward the heavens before bringing his fists up and around, then smashing them down overtop of me. I fling myself to the side, rolling out of the way as his hands form two large craters where I once sat. The dagger is still in my hand, but every fiber of my being doesn’t want to use it against my friend. He has to be inside that beast somewhere. He must know it’s me he’s attacking.
With my heart pounding and my breath coming in ragged gasps, I manage to scramble to my feet, my gaze fixed on the abomination that was once my dear friend. His relentless assault continues, his grotesque form moving with surprising agility despite his decayed appearance. Every strike he delivers feels like a dagger to my soul, a painful reminder of the bond we once shared. As I desperately fend off his attacks, I catch glimpses of memories flashing before my eyes—moments of laughter, shared secrets, and the unbreakable camaraderie we once had. Now, they seem like echoes from a distant past.
Sachia's monstrous growls and snarls echo in my ears, a haunting combination of agony and despair. As he raises his twisted claws for another strike, I muster every ounce of strength and determination I have left. With a burst of resolve, I sidestep his attack, narrowly avoiding the lethal blow. In that fleeting moment of vulnerability, a blur charges into the fray. His weapon strikes Sachia with a thunderous force, delivering a decisive blow that sends him crashing to the ground, then disintegrates into a million specs of ash and dust.
The deafening muffled silence that follows is punctuated only by the heavy panting of the victorious warrior. I stand there, staring at the scene before me—seeing in my mind’s eye the lifeless form of the creature that was Sachia, the once-vibrant spirit vanquished into oblivion. Tears blur my vision as I drop to my knees, the weight of the battle and of my conflicting emotions finally crashing down upon me.
Gently, a hand rests on my shoulder, offering comfort and solace. It's Mexqutli, his face etched with concern and empathy. Without a word, he helps me to my feet, and together we survey what remains of the fight, snapping my focus back to the battle at hand.
More fire arrows soar in the air around me, lighting my way through the cloud of kicked up soot and Eleven know what else. Mexqutli gives me one last look, inspecting me up and down to check if I’ll be okay. He takes off to rejoin the fray, and I slash and hack at any gray limb or body part I can see in the haze, swooping the blade wildly until it comes in contact with any creature in sight. More monsters moan and howl as they’re struck with fire, succumbing to the flames or my and Mexqutli’s strikes.
There’s an eerie silence after the last of the beasts perishes, and the dust and dirt finally has a chance to settle onto the ground, allowing us to assess the grizzly scene. Heaps of body parts form small hills at various places on the battlefield, a mixture of gray burnt flesh and tan human skin. Swirls of red and black blood pool and stream down gradual slopes. Ash from the burning walls and vanquished creatures flutters in the wind. Now that I can view the faces of those we fought, from the ones that weren’t struck by the obsidian blades, I see that not only Sachia became one of the gray beasts, but many of our former brethren were transformed, and that we had to fight our own fellow Tuatiu. Any warrior who still stands either helps those who are wounded get back into Iantana or carry the deceased and toss them into a pile, torches close by in preparation of a pyre.
“Are you okay?” I hear the hissing, staggered voice of Mexqutli say as he places a hand on my shoulder and inspects me up and down.
“Where is Sianchu?” I ask with venom in my voice. Whether my anger is for him or a result of what I had to overcome, I can’t determine. All I know is I need to take these feelings out on somebody, and he’s the perfect target for my ire.
“Halt a moment,” Mexqutli says, “and let us tend to your wounds.”
“Where is he!” I scream, no longer an inquiry, but a demand.
My head throbs with the pulse of my heartbeat, adrenaline aiding me in forgetting my wounds. My eyes scan the field for that short, stout scum, Sianchu, and I spot him hobbling about, dragging the tip of his sword on the ground while he clutches his arm with his other hand, covered in crimson.
“You!” I shout, pointing the black blade of the dagger at him. “You have a lot to answer for, you Tapeu rat!”
Sianchu stops and looks at me in surprise, startled by the accusation. Mexqutli chases me down and jogs alongside me. Seeing this, Sianchu’s face turns from shock to outrage.
“What are you doing with an Ulxa!” he says, weakly holding up his sword as if readying to fight. Am I truly the only person in Tuatiu unable to recognize Mexqutli’s faction of origin? “He brought this destruction upon your people, and will do so to others!”
“Me?” Mexqutli says, offended at the claim. “It was Tapeu who attacked Tlequatlan and the Ulxa, not the other way around!”
“Tapeu has done no such thing!” Sianchu says. “I have under good authority that–“
“Your authority feeds you lies!” Mexqutli interjects. “These beasts are the creation of your Arbiter and his advisor, Xaqilpa.”
Sianchu scoffs at the allegation, looking around in disbelief for anyone to come to his support. As he approaches, Haluiqa stands off to the side, arms folded while assessing the situation. I wield the obsidian dagger, ready to intervene if necessary, but stop myself after a few steps. It occurs to me that, if I let these two debate and argue with each other, they may make a statement that reveals a hidden truth and could shed some light on what’s happening in Tuatiu and Pachil.
“And you all are foolish enough to believe this deviousness?” Sianchu says, arms held open as if pleading with us to join his argument.
“What happened when we got separated, Sianchu?” asks Haluiqa. “There was the ambush from the creatures that took out my men, and when I came to, you had vanished. I assumed you were either dead or had returned to Qapauma, and I begun searching for you, just in case, continuing onward to the capital.”
“I…” Sianchu begins, eyes cast to the ground and head lowered. “I regret that I assumed you were dead after the attack. You looked as though the life had left you, and I feared I was the lone survivor. Knowing I couldn’t make it to Qapauma with my injuries, I returned to Iantana to inform your people, although my wounds made it difficult for me to travel in a timely manner. I had to spend a day or so just to recover.”
“So you left him to die!” I couldn’t contain the outburst, stepping to Sianchu and ready to drive my blade through his fat torso. “You didn’t check to confirm he was dead and let him be exposed to these monsters in our jungles? Monsters that your ruler allowed to be created?”
“What you speak of is treason, little lady,” Sianchu says condescendingly. “For our ruler to—yes, our ruler, no matter how many times you’re going to interrupt me. For Achutli to unleash such ravenous monsters upon the people he has sworn to protect while efforts have been made to rebuild Pachil is unfathomable!”
I’m enraged, and I want to yell at him for all the pain and devastation he’s brought on our people, but I fight myself to not say anything further.
Long, deep breath in. Long, deep breath out.
“Tell us what you think is happening,” Haluiqa says, stepping between me and Sianchu while holding out his hands in abatement. “Clearly, we all have pieces of information, but not the entire tapestry.”
Sianchu looks irate, pacing from one side to another and shaking his head. When he appears ready to say something, he stops himself, then shakes his head and resumes pacing some more. Eventually, Haluiqa rests a hand on his shoulder, causing Sianchu to stop in place. Our leader gives the Tapeu man a consoling look and a nod, which calms Sianchu enough to speak.
“I was instructed by the Arbiter to gather warriors from any region I could because he had been informed that there was a threat to the south. His sources told him that the Ulxa were preparing to overthrown the–“
Mexqutli interrupts with what sounds like intense words and accusations—being honest, I can’t make out his precise words due to his heavy accent and blinding rage as he says them—but Haluiqa shouts over him and demands that he let Sianchu finish, reminding us all that we’re only sharing what we know, not saying anything declarative. After a beat, Sianchu resumes his recounting.
“The Arbiter was told, I’m not sure by whom, that the Ulxa were preparing to overthrow the governing Tapeu, disrupting the reconstruction and taking the throne for themselves. I was following his orders–“
“Orders that got our men killed,” I grumble, apparently loud enough to receive scolding from Haluiqa. Sianchu repeats that he was following orders, but it still infuriates me, that such misinformation led to the loss of so many innocent lives.
Long, deep breath in. Long, deep breath out.
“Okay, so that is one part of the story,” Haluiqa says calmly. “Mexqutli, please tell us what you know, and we will not interrupt you, correct, everyone?” Reluctantly, Sianchu and I nod our agreement. Mexqutli has deceived me before, so I prepare to pay close attention to what he’s about to say, making sure there are no holes in the tapestry he weaves.
“From my understanding,” Mexqutli says, placing emphasis on this qualification to ensure we have heard and acknowledged it, “Achutli has acted on the influence of a deceitful defector, Xaqilpa, to engage in a war with the Ulxa. Xaqilpa believes he should be the rightful ruler of the Ulxa and will go to the ends of destroying his own people to achieve this—this has already begun, with the destruction of Tlequatlan, the authority to do so deemed permissible by the Arbiter. He has stolen invaluable artifacts, and given what I’ve witnessed of these gray creatures, I have come to believe that Xaqilpa has used one of the artifacts to create these beasts, as if to form an army of supernatural warriors for his purposes.”
“Why on Pachil would the Arbiter allow the attack of other factions that are allies to the Tapeu?” Sianchu says accusatorially. “If we need all the warriors we can obtain, it makes no sense to have these creatures attack those who support us. And if the Ulxa truly are allies, it makes no sense to attack them, either.”
“My theories,” Mexqutli answers with surprising poise, “are that either Xaqilpa is testing the artifact to learn what it is capable of, or he has lost control of his creations, and they are wreaking havoc, which is why the beasts have attacked Tuatiu, due to its proximity to Qapauma and Tapeu.”
“And he possesses the Disc of Iqsuwa,” Haluiqa states, turning to Mexqutli and nodding, prompting the Ulxa warrior to search for his belongings, thrown about the ground as he discarded them before joining the fracas and fighting. He returns with the disc in hand, displaying the markings etched on its surface.
“Sun and sky,” Sianchu says in astonishment. “Iqsuwa still exist? I had believed most were killed during the War of Liberation. I…”
His voice trails off as he continues to stare admiringly at the disc. Though there is still a looming threat hanging over all of us, the easing of tension is palpable, the lightest any of our shoulders has likely felt in quite some time, allowing us a rare moment of reprieve.
“I…” Sianchu searches for the words to say. “I don’t understand why the Arbiter would do such a thing, and I’m still unconvinced he would attack without a firm reason and plenty of evidence. I’m not dismissing what you’ve said outright, Ulxa, but I’m finding it difficult to completely abandon my orders and go against what the Arbiter commands. Something must’ve led him to trust in Xaqilpa. You have to understand, I can’t believe that he would act without some justification.”
“We’re all trying to figure out what is taking place,” I say. “We’ll need to work together to fully understand why this is happening, and how to proceed.”
“What do you know of Xaqilpa?” Haluiqa asks Sianchu. “He is stated to be a councilor to the Arbiter, so you must have interacted with him at the court.”
“He was always shrouded in mystery,” he responds. “Our purposes in the Arbiter’s court are different from each other, so we haven’t interacted as frequently as I have with other advisors. When all the councilors were in the same room, he predominately said little, but I did occasionally see him whispering to the Arbiter. I’m uncertain what was discussed, however.
“Useless,” Mexqutli says impatiently. “Pachil will be a smoldering ruin by the time we find all of the answers. We must go to Qapauma and confront Achutli and Xaqilpa at once.”
“I understand your urgency,” Haluiqa says, “but Inuxeq is right. We can’t proceed with haste until we have a better understanding of what is occurring.”
“Besides,” I say, “we will need to help clear up the damage and destruction here, to make sure everyone is recovering. Iantana is vulnerable to a second attack, especially with our numbers depleted.”
“So we stand around idly,” Mexqutli says, “and allow Xaqilpa to continue destroying every faction on Pachil?”
“Of course not,” I say, “but the four of us can’t just storm into Qapauma with partly formed allegations.”
“Why are you so eager for us to engage in combat with creatures we’re clearly unprepared for?” Sianchu asks, causing me to feel concerned about where this is going.
“We must do something before these monsters harm any more innocent people,” Mexqutli says as if the reason is obvious. “There is no time to be wasted, and with my blades, I can assist with holding these creatures at bay before they can cause any more destruction.”
“Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” Sianchu says. I attempt to admonish him for the outburst, but it’s too late.
“Excuse me?” Mexqutli says. “You are going to ignore that I came to the aid of Tuatiu people in peril? Are you saying that I created these beasts, only to defeat them, so that I may appear as a savior?”
“It’s convenient,” Sianchu says, “how you happen to have the one weapon that vanquishes them all, and you know that they can be defeated with fire.”
“That is all from observation and having faced them in recent battles,” Mexqutli says. “And what creatures cannot be defeated by fire?”
“This may all be part of some twisted ruse to create infighting among the factions, just as the Arbiter had indicated was the Ulxa plan. How do I know you didn’t kill an Iqsuwa and steal the disc from his corpse?” Sianchu says accusatorially.
“Kill an Iqsuwa?” says Mexqutli, baffled. “Now it is evident you have gone mad. Did you strike your head during that combat, or have you always been this moronic?”
The two childish men stand a hand’s length apart from one another, waiting for an excuse to forego polite formalities. Before the two can come to blows, Haluiqa steps in to separate them.
“If all people in Tapeu think the way you do, Pachil is doomed,” Mexqutli says, goading Sianchu to hit him. Fortunately for them both, Haluiqa and I now stand between them.
“We have just faced a terrible battle,” Haluiqa says, shouting above the two adversaries, “and we have received and shared some difficult information between one another. We are clearly exhausted—from travel and from combat—and should get some rest before someone dances with the jaguar and acts regretfully.”
With tempers somewhat cooled, Mexqutli and Sianchu stand separated, backs turned to one another and breathing heavily from exertion.
“I must think about this, about all of this, but you’ve done far more to harm your cause, ‘Iqsuwa’,” Sianchu says with a biting tone before storming off toward the center of the village. Haluiqa sighs, hands holding his hips as he hunches over slightly, exhausted.
“I don’t blame him for not trusting you,” I tell Mexqutli, “since you’ve been deceptive to me ever since we met. It will take some time, and we will need to gather more information, before we can proceed with a plan, especially one that uses any information you’ve stated.”
“The longer we wait, the more people will suffer,” Mexqutli says. “I cannot sit and do nothing.”
The Ulxa man walks away, opposite of the village. I start to chase after him, but Haluiqa grabs my shoulder and holds me back, preventing me from advancing any further.
“Let us give them both some time and space,” he says. “If it is Mexqutli’s wish to march to the capital, then so be it, but we should not get entangled into his web of chaos without exploring the facts for ourselves and our people.”
As much as it pains me to resist, I stay in place, heeding Haluiqa’s words. Perhaps he’s correct, and we’re all not thinking clearly due to being battle worn and exhausted, requiring some recovery before we can proceed. However, something within me is suspicious and concerned, about everything. Someone must be withholding information—I would suspect everyone hasn’t been entirely truthful—as the pieces don’t fully connect, and uncovering more might put us in the way of danger. It’s possible more harm than good has come from the events of today, emotionally and physically, having not had a spare moment to reflect one what I just encountered and had to overcome; I do not look forward to evaluating my feelings and emotions when I take stock at what I witnessed. The knowledge we’ve just obtained, no matter how complete or partial, may have set us on a path to our demise.
