Mouth slightly ajar, I steady my breathing—long, slow breath in, long, slow breath out. The stillness of the jungle gives the target an advantage, and every step I take has to be precise and unerring or else I give my position away. I lurk low so as not to be seen by it, cautiously crouching behind vegetation. I’m within a few paces, so close I could run to it in a couple of strides. Its brown hide blends in well with the surrounding trees, and enough leaves from the multitude of new sprouts obscure its position from most predators. The large eyes of the doe are fixed on what she plans to eat, unaware of any potential threat.
Long, slow breath in. Long, slow breath out.
As I was taught a long time ago, I carefully place my left foot in front of me to line up with the target, hips perpendicular to stabilize my stance. I steadily raise the bow, drawing the string back with my index and middle fingers that gently secure the nocked arrow as I lift the bow upward.
Long, slow breath in. Long, slow breath out.
A sudden crack jostles both the deer’s and my attention. From above, vibrant blue and yellow plumage catches my eye as a nearby macaw plucks at a tree’s buds, the remnants dropping to the rainforest floor. Large, velvety antlers of a buck come into view, further beyond the doe and obstructed by numerous trees as he inspects the area. The two are still, listening for any enemy to make its presence known to them. Like them, I make no moves and even pause breathing, keeping the string taut and the arrow nocked, but halt raising them, barely blinking so that even my eyes aren’t making any movements to give myself away. The macaw finishes its meal and, not interested in waiting to see who flinches first, flies away to find more sprouting buds. The doe is the first to return to eating, and the buck snaps another twig with his hoof as he positions himself for a dense patch of leaves.
Long, slow breath in. Long, slow breath out.
With the doe more clearly in my line of sight, I relax my shoulders and complete drawing my right arm across my chest as my left arm guides me to the deer. Just how my father told me to do when I was little, now turned into instinct, I use both eyes to lock in the target—“using both eyes to see your target doubles your chances of hitting it,” he always said. The string rests on my cheek and the back of the arrow touches the side of my jaw, like I always do. The doe raises her head up for a moment, sensing movement or danger, but remains still. I feel her looking at me. An outside presence seemingly guides my hands.
Long, slow breath in. Hold you breath. Remain steady.
Release.
“And you let the buck get away?” Sachia asks me over his left shoulder, a pole hoisted atop his right. His deep, throaty voice sounds bewildered, almost offended.
“The buck would have made for a bigger haul, but not enough of him was visible through the shrubbery and vegetation,” I tell him, adjusting the pole on my right shoulder for a better grip. “I chose the guaranteed target.”
“I would’ve gotten him,” he says.
“This is why I’m a better hunter than you. You would’ve set your eyes too big and missed both of them. But I’m the one who got the haul.”
Sachia chuckles and shakes his head. I can see the side of a smirk along his square jaw. His long, black hair is tied in a tight knot at the back of his head, and I see his back muscles flexing through the bow and quiver of arrows strapped to him while he carries the pole with our doe. He’s average height, not much taller than me, but he’s built as if he has the muscular structure of a man twice his size. He may be the most athletic and physically gifted in Tuatiu, but he knows my claim as the better hunter is right—he’s said as much to others in our village of Iantana (when I’m not around, of course). It’s because of this that I’ve become good friends with him. Although the Tuatiu train both men and women to hunt and fight, there aren’t many men in the village who will ever confess that a woman such as myself is a better hunter than they are. Call it pride, call it chauvinism—I call it “motivation”.
Like Sachia, I wear my black hair tied at the back of my head, but I decidedly keep my hair cut relatively short, barely grazing my shoulders when I let it down. Others poke fun at me about it, but I counter about how their hair will inevitably get snagged in the low branches while I’ll be able to roam the jungles freely. They’ll never admit it, but I know it’s happened; I don’t have enough fingers to count how many times I’ve seen someone return from a hunt with a chunk of their flowing mane missing after having to cut themselves free.
As we swim through the dense humidity of the jungle, the thatched roofs of our village spring out from behind a patch of trees. The buildings span several paces in length, housing large families comfortably, with the wooden walls as tall as a person while the area below the roof is open for ventilation. No one really knows how this construction method was started; it’s just the way it has always been. Sachia and I join other men and women returning from the jungle to drop off their haul of deer, agouti, and guinea pig, and it’s apparent the hunt was bountiful. No sooner than when I put down my end of the pole, we’re approached by an out-of-breath bald middle aged man, sweating profusely, with a round face and large features, a large gray, black, and green tunic draped over his heavy set body.
“Councilman… from Tapeu… Haluiqa… Meeting in the Square…” He huffs and puffs to us.
“Sun and sky, Chiqani!” Sachia exclaimed. “I’ve never seen someone so out of breath by walking! You’re lucky all you have to do is sit by Haluiqa’s side all day.”
Chiqani curses while catching his breath. Sachia and I leave him behind as we start walking to the village square. I can hear Chiqani breathily saying something else, but it’s drowned out by Sachia’s bellowing laughter.
“I genuinely don’t know how he has remained a part of our village,” Sachia says. “That lazy slob is the only person who can’t hunt or fish in this entire region. I swear he’s more Achope than Tuatiu.”
“Hey now! That’s not fair to the Achope people!” I remark. “They have to carry all those heavy sacks of coppers around to pay people off, after all.”
It’s a known fact that not many get along with the peoples who live in the rich rainforest region to the south of us, the Achope. They are primarily merchants who worked very closely with our captors, the Timuaq, and they gained significant wealth at the cost of everyone else on the continent. Though they eventually switched allegiances and aided the Eleven in the rebellion, it’s assumed they only did so because they felt they could profit from the result. Even during this reconstruction, all tribes have been diligent in keeping a distrustful eye on their activity.
As Sachia and I arrive, people have already gathered at the center of our village. From our vantage point, the fishing river can be seen in the distance through the canvas of trees as the naturally tiered clearing we’ve built our town around serves as our primary gathering location, allowing everyone to see and be seen. While we allow a short time to pass to give stragglers the opportunity to join, two men stand in the middle, chatting with one another in a business-like manner. One is Haluiqa, our de facto leader. Though he is not quite old enough to be considered an elder, he is not exactly at what may be regarded as the prime hunting or fighting age any longer. But don’t think for a moment this means he’s incapable; Haluiqa is one of the most battle-tested and skilled warriors of our people. His broad shoulders and barrel chested physique is still intimidating and impressive for his age. His weathered face with the characteristic scar running along his right cheekbone is worn like a medal, displaying how much he has experienced, with a stern expression regularly fixed on his boxy face. Eventually, Haluiqa speaks with a thunderous voice that immediately gets everyone’s attention.
“As a representative for our people, we would like to welcome Sianchu to Iantana,” Haluiqa says. “Sianchu has traveled a long way from the capital with instructions from the Arbiter, Achutli, which I will let him expand upon to you all.”
Haluiqa steps back and waves his open-faced palm to present the other man. A short, stocky man with a large, hooked nose that overtakes much of his face steps forward. He wears a tunic with the Tapeu colors: orange and red geometric patterns of spirals and the stepped cross, and covering the garment are sporadic black and white checkerboard motifs to signify his warrior status, as well as the standard gold trim emphasizing his nobility. Around his neck hangs numerous quipus of red, orange, and green threads with a smattering of intricately tied knots along which he begun running his fingers. Despite speaking for the Arbiter, he wore no head dress, indicating this wasn’t necessarily a formal occasion. A bit odd, but perhaps his reasoning is to not come across as intimidating in an effort to win us over.
“People of Iantana,” Sianchu begins, “I speak for the Arbiter, Achutli, who has orders for executing his plan for the reconstruction and resurrection of our society’s way of life, before we were held captive by the Timuaq. While the people united to defeat that great enemy, another enemy conspires to the distant south, seeking to fill the void left behind by those conquering titans. We have heard that, with the Timuaq gone, the Ulxa may be planning to march to Qapauma and take the throne for themselves.”
Murmurings start to build up amongst the gathered people, some in shock while others are in suspicious disbelief. I take a quick peek at Sachia’s face, but he remains stoic and stone-faced, not giving away his thoughts and opinions that visibly and easily.
“But their leader, Qixana, was one of The Eleven who sacrificed himself to save our world,” an older man’s voice from the crowd chimes in. “What do you and Achutli have to say about that?” Mumbles of agreement and deliberation can be heard throughout those gathered. I listen intently for the answer, since I, too, have the same thought.
“If you recall,” Sianchu starts up after a brief pause for dramatic effect, “the Ulxa were keen allies to the Timuaq. The titans would murder citizens for claimed ritualistic purposes, the Ulxa would resurrect the dead into mindless warriors, and they would send these creatures to fight against us in the name of the Timuaq on the battlefield during the War of Liberation. Qixana took defectors of his own people to fight for the just and right cause. However, he was an exception, not the rule.”
The crowd seems to be mulling this over. Nearly all of us were on the battlefield to fight for our freedom, and it was told we were fighting alongside Ulxa warriors. While their numbers weren’t many, those who fought with us did so as valiantly as any other faction’s warriors, albeit through unconventional means, to say the least. It can’t be denied, however, that the Ulxa people have long been outcasts of the continent, in general. Until the Timuaq seized power, the Ulxa always kept to themselves, conducting their strange rituals and practicing their peculiar religion in their isolated region of the land. They never had ambitions outside of being devout to their deities, whatever their names are. With that in mind, if everyone is resorting back to the way it was before the Timuaq ruined everything, why would the Ulxa be any different? Why would they be suddenly motivated to rule?
It seems I’m not the only one thinking this. A woman from the crowd, carrying an infant on her hip who is distractedly playing with her dangling turquoise necklace, breaks the silence. “Why should we be concerned about the Ulxa? Assuming they actually are a threat, aren’t there other tribes who will encounter them first? We are a long way from Ulxa.”
“We don’t need to engage and fight them directly,” Sianchu says. “Those in Qapauma are not sure what the Ulxa’s plans and ambitions are; we are merely investigating intel we’ve received. That’s where the Tuatiu come in. You are the best spies and scouts in the land, without question. Achutli wants to infiltrate the Ulxa people in charge and report what is discovered. This team of agents will be lead by me–“
Sianchu is immediately drowned out by reactions of protests and shouts throughout the attending people as they question the supposed intel of the Tapeu. I glance over to look at Haluiqa’s reaction, and he also appears genuinely surprised and taken aback by the statement. Sianchu restarts his declarative speech, raising his voice so as to be clearly heard above the objecting crowd.
“–a team lead by me will gather the necessary information and report to the Arbiter. This is a direct command from the ruler himself, and dissenters will be punished, as agreed to by the terms established in–“
“We didn’t put him in charge,” a man manages to yell over Sianchu. “Achutli assumed the role of ruler simply because he is entitled and was the loudest, most persistent voice amongst the remaining leaders. I didn’t agree to him being placed on the throne!”
“It should be a Tuatiu warrior in charge! We were the ones who provided the information to defeat the Timuaq and sacrificed the most out of all tribes!“
Many more shouts flare up, but Haluiqa’s stern face, at first deep in thought and consideration during the raucous roars of the people, finally raises both arms up and attempts to settle down the crowd. His booming voice gets the disgruntled people’s attention.
“My brothers and sisters, our frustration is understandable, but we need to unite in this time of rebuilding. We all must understand that certain compromises must be made in order to ensure peace. The Tuatiu are the most capable agents and warriors in the land, and if there is, in fact, an enemy who looks to disrupt our efforts at peace, we must answer the call. It is what we did to establish our freedom, and it is what we shall do now. It is what the Tuatiu do.”
A few moments elapse as the mob considers Haluiqa’s words. Not everyone is convinced, as there are occasional inaudible shouts. But Haluiqa, sensing a need to establish order once and for all, makes one more declaration to get the crowd’s attention and influence their decision.
“We must support the efforts to restore the unity and peace all factions desire and once enjoyed. This is why I shall count myself among the people selected for the Arbiter’s mission.“
Gasps, followed by pleas of bargaining and attempts to talk Haluiqa out of his decision disrupt the otherwise stunned, silent people, myself included in those numbers of the shocked.
“He… can’t do this, right?” I ask Sachia. “He has to stay here to guide our people! That’s why we’ve accepted him as leader!”
“Aside from him being far too old for such a mission,” Sachia says, with snark. Sensing my scowl burning into the side of his face, Sachia relents. “Well, right. He would be better served staying here.”
No sooner than Sachia says that, others in the crowd loudly echo this sentiment. The Tuatiu have never believed in “royal blood” or nobility, and we have gone for much of our existence without a single leader. But Haluiqa has been the closest to such a thing, and he has spearheaded much of our people’s rebuilding, to where we have almost completely resumed our proud ways from the era before the Timuaq in such a short period.
“Aside from Haluiqa leaving our people’s capital, we can’t fall in line under an outsider!” shouts another from the crowd. “The Tuatiu are only led by the Tuatiu!”
“We swore to aid the reconstruction,” Haluiqa interrupts. “If we are not as good as our word, we become no better than those against whom we fought for our freedom.” Sianchu remains expressionless and lets the crowd’s murmurs die down before speaking.
“After choosing a small team for the mission, we will travel to Qapauma to meet with Achutli and his advisers to share information and formulate the plan. Haluiqa knows his people best, so I will let him select the members and we will head out at dawn.”
The stocky fellow abruptly turns and heads towards Haluiqa’s thatched-roof home. Majority of the remaining crowd stands around, looking stunned. Still processing what occurred, I look at Sachia to ask if he plans on volunteering. He looks at me with a grin on his face.
“Well, you’re most certainly going to volunteer, Inuxeq,” Sachia says with a chuckle. “Normally, I would refuse to be led by some Tapeu noble, but I know someone is going to have to looking out for you, so–“
“First of all,” I interrupt, “I don’t need your protection—the person who would need protecting is you. Second of all, you’re just going to hold me back. And third of all… don’t scoff at me! You know I’m right! What game did you bring back from the hunt, huh? Third of all, everyone in this village knows I’m the best warrior our people have. It would be doing Pachil a disservice to not lend my talents to the cause, especially if they think they’re going to boss people around without a Tuatiu in command.“
“Sun and sky, Inuxeq! Don’t you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?” Sachia quips. “I know I do!”
“Whatever, Sachia,” I say as I gather my bow and quiver of arrows before walking off to my hut. “You’re boring me. I’ll see you at dawn’s first light. That is, unless you do the people a favor and sleep in.”
The sun barely peeks through the leaves of the jungle the following morning, but I have been wide awake well before that. I have been fine-tuning my bow and collecting only the best arrows, sharpening the arrowheads as I contemplate the orders from the day before. If the Ulxa are actually planning on overthrowing Achutli, how can we infiltrate their ranks to get the information? I’ve been on scouting missions before, but never to the other side of the land. There’s a shroud of mystery over that region and its people, storied to have supernatural abilities. My mind races imagining what the lands are like, basing everything off hearsay I’ve received while camped with warriors from other nations. It’s supposed to be an untamed, arid territory with an exaggerated landscape of large, jutting, jagged rock formations, warped trees, and treacherous wildlife.
As I arrive to the village center, there is a group of warriors who have already gathered their belongings and are about to head off. I hurry to catch them when Sachia stops me.
“Inuxeq,” he says in a hushed, consoling tone. “I… I thought Haluiqa visited your home to tell you.”
“Tell me what,” I say in a raised voice, looking over anxiously at the group departing the village and eager to join them. Holding a sling carrying his gear over one shoulder with his right hand, Sachia pats down the air in front of me with his left and tries to calm me down.
“He was supposed to tell you,” Sachia pauses and averts his eyes from mine, looking at the ground. “You’re supposed to stay back. To protect the village. He only wants a small group to–“
“Stay back?!” I can barely contain my anger. “I’m the best warrior we’ve got! How can I not be selected to go?!” I march up to the group, who at this point have turned to see what the commotion is about. Sianchu looks annoyed by the disruption, impatiently awaiting to begin the trek to Qapauma. Before I get too far, Haluiqa is already between me and the others.
“Inuxeq,” Haluiqa says in a patient, paternal voice, “what is the meaning of this disturbance?”
“How could you not select me for this mission? I’m the best warrior, certainly the best archer, and–“
“The decision,” Haluiqa interrupts, “did not come down to only skill on the battlefield, but a warrior’s temperament, as well. This journey and what we’ve been tasked to do will require a significant amount of patience and a different skillset than simply fighting. You are best suited to protect Iantana.”
“Who are you to say I am not ready? I was at the War of Liberation! I have already proven myself!”
“This is an entirely different matter, child,” Haluiqa says, not condescendingly, but part of me still takes it to be that way.
“This is an insult on me, on my family, on my honor!”
“Inuxeq, you are making a scene,” he says, sternly. “The matter is decided. There is no room for discussion or debate. Doing so will be a direct challenge to my authority. Is that what you seek to do?”
I fume in silence. It appears nothing I say or do will work and can only make the situation worse. Haluiqa turns away from me and returns to the group, who halted for a moment to observe the disruption. In one fluid motion, he gathers his belongings and motions for everyone to depart. Sachia doesn’t look back as he heads off with the others. I stand near the square, watching everyone march away and out of the village in the deep blue of the morning.
Mouth slightly ajar, I steady my breathing—long, slow breath in, long, slow breath out. The stillness of the jungle gives the target an advantage, and every step I take has to be precise and unerring or else I give my position away. I lurk low so as not to be seen by it, cautiously crouching behind vegetation. I’m within a few paces, so close I could run to it in a couple of strides. Its brown hide blends in well with the surrounding trees, and enough leaves from the multitude of new sprouts obscure its position from most predators. The large eyes of the doe are fixed on what she plans to eat, unaware of any potential threat.
Long, slow breath in. Long, slow breath out.
As I was taught a long time ago, I carefully place my left foot in front of me to line up with the target, hips perpendicular to stabilize my stance. I steadily raise the bow, drawing the string back with my index and middle fingers that gently secure the nocked arrow as I lift the bow upward.
Long, slow breath in. Long, slow breath out.
A sudden crack jostles both the deer’s and my attention. From above, vibrant blue and yellow plumage catches my eye as a nearby macaw plucks at a tree’s buds, the remnants dropping to the rainforest floor. Large, velvety antlers of a buck come into view, further beyond the doe and obstructed by numerous trees as he inspects the area. The two are still, listening for any enemy to make its presence known to them. Like them, I make no moves and even pause breathing, keeping the string taut and the arrow nocked, but halt raising them, barely blinking so that even my eyes aren’t making any movements to give myself away. The macaw finishes its meal and, not interested in waiting to see who flinches first, flies away to find more sprouting buds. The doe is the first to return to eating, and the buck snaps another twig with his hoof as he positions himself for a dense patch of leaves.
Long, slow breath in. Long, slow breath out.
With the doe more clearly in my line of sight, I relax my shoulders and complete drawing my right arm across my chest as my left arm guides me to the deer. Just how my father told me to do when I was little, now turned into instinct, I use both eyes to lock in the target—“using both eyes to see your target doubles your chances of hitting it,” he always said. The string rests on my cheek and the back of the arrow touches the side of my jaw, like I always do. The doe raises her head up for a moment, sensing movement or danger, but remains still. I feel her looking at me. An outside presence seemingly guides my hands.
Long, slow breath in. Hold you breath. Remain steady.
Release.
“And you let the buck get away?” Sachia asks me over his left shoulder, a pole hoisted atop his right. His deep, throaty voice sounds bewildered, almost offended.
“The buck would have made for a bigger haul, but not enough of him was visible through the shrubbery and vegetation,” I tell him, adjusting the pole on my right shoulder for a better grip. “I chose the guaranteed target.”
“I would’ve gotten him,” he says.
“This is why I’m a better hunter than you. You would’ve set your eyes too big and missed both of them. But I’m the one who got the haul.”
Sachia chuckles and shakes his head. I can see the side of a smirk along his square jaw. His long, black hair is tied in a tight knot at the back of his head, and I see his back muscles flexing through the bow and quiver of arrows strapped to him while he carries the pole with our doe. He’s average height, not much taller than me, but he’s built as if he has the muscular structure of a man twice his size. He may be the most athletic and physically gifted in Tuatiu, but he knows my claim as the better hunter is right—he’s said as much to others in our village of Iantana (when I’m not around, of course). It’s because of this that I’ve become good friends with him. Although the Tuatiu train both men and women to hunt and fight, there aren’t many men in the village who will ever confess that a woman such as myself is a better hunter than they are. Call it pride, call it chauvinism—I call it “motivation”.
Like Sachia, I wear my black hair tied at the back of my head, but I decidedly keep my hair cut relatively short, barely grazing my shoulders when I let it down. Others poke fun at me about it, but I counter about how their hair will inevitably get snagged in the low branches while I’ll be able to roam the jungles freely. They’ll never admit it, but I know it’s happened; I don’t have enough fingers to count how many times I’ve seen someone return from a hunt with a chunk of their flowing mane missing after having to cut themselves free.
As we swim through the dense humidity of the jungle, the thatched roofs of our village spring out from behind a patch of trees. The buildings span several paces in length, housing large families comfortably, with the wooden walls as tall as a person while the area below the roof is open for ventilation. No one really knows how this construction method was started; it’s just the way it has always been. Sachia and I join other men and women returning from the jungle to drop off their haul of deer, agouti, and guinea pig, and it’s apparent the hunt was bountiful. No sooner than when I put down my end of the pole, we’re approached by an out-of-breath bald middle aged man, sweating profusely, with a round face and large features, a large gray, black, and green tunic draped over his heavy set body.
“Councilman… from Tapeu… Haluiqa… Meeting in the Square…” He huffs and puffs to us.
“Sun and sky, Chiqani!” Sachia exclaimed. “I’ve never seen someone so out of breath by walking! You’re lucky all you have to do is sit by Haluiqa’s side all day.”
Chiqani curses while catching his breath. Sachia and I leave him behind as we start walking to the village square. I can hear Chiqani breathily saying something else, but it’s drowned out by Sachia’s bellowing laughter.
“I genuinely don’t know how he has remained a part of our village,” Sachia says. “That lazy slob is the only person who can’t hunt or fish in this entire region. I swear he’s more Achope than Tuatiu.”
“Hey now! That’s not fair to the Achope people!” I remark. “They have to carry all those heavy sacks of coppers around to pay people off, after all.”
It’s a known fact that not many get along with the peoples who live in the rich rainforest region to the south of us, the Achope. They are primarily merchants who worked very closely with our captors, the Timuaq, and they gained significant wealth at the cost of everyone else on the continent. Though they eventually switched allegiances and aided the Eleven in the rebellion, it’s assumed they only did so because they felt they could profit from the result. Even during this reconstruction, all tribes have been diligent in keeping a distrustful eye on their activity.
As Sachia and I arrive, people have already gathered at the center of our village. From our vantage point, the fishing river can be seen in the distance through the canvas of trees as the naturally tiered clearing we’ve built our town around serves as our primary gathering location, allowing everyone to see and be seen. While we allow a short time to pass to give stragglers the opportunity to join, two men stand in the middle, chatting with one another in a business-like manner. One is Haluiqa, our de facto leader. Though he is not quite old enough to be considered an elder, he is not exactly at what may be regarded as the prime hunting or fighting age any longer. But don’t think for a moment this means he’s incapable; Haluiqa is one of the most battle-tested and skilled warriors of our people. His broad shoulders and barrel chested physique is still intimidating and impressive for his age. His weathered face with the characteristic scar running along his right cheekbone is worn like a medal, displaying how much he has experienced, with a stern expression regularly fixed on his boxy face. Eventually, Haluiqa speaks with a thunderous voice that immediately gets everyone’s attention.
“As a representative for our people, we would like to welcome Sianchu to Iantana,” Haluiqa says. “Sianchu has traveled a long way from the capital with instructions from the Arbiter, Achutli, which I will let him expand upon to you all.”
Haluiqa steps back and waves his open-faced palm to present the other man. A short, stocky man with a large, hooked nose that overtakes much of his face steps forward. He wears a tunic with the Tapeu colors: orange and red geometric patterns of spirals and the stepped cross, and covering the garment are sporadic black and white checkerboard motifs to signify his warrior status, as well as the standard gold trim emphasizing his nobility. Around his neck hangs numerous quipus of red, orange, and green threads with a smattering of intricately tied knots along which he begun running his fingers. Despite speaking for the Arbiter, he wore no head dress, indicating this wasn’t necessarily a formal occasion. A bit odd, but perhaps his reasoning is to not come across as intimidating in an effort to win us over.
“People of Iantana,” Sianchu begins, “I speak for the Arbiter, Achutli, who has orders for executing his plan for the reconstruction and resurrection of our society’s way of life, before we were held captive by the Timuaq. While the people united to defeat that great enemy, another enemy conspires to the distant south, seeking to fill the void left behind by those conquering titans. We have heard that, with the Timuaq gone, the Ulxa may be planning to march to Qapauma and take the throne for themselves.”
Murmurings start to build up amongst the gathered people, some in shock while others are in suspicious disbelief. I take a quick peek at Sachia’s face, but he remains stoic and stone-faced, not giving away his thoughts and opinions that visibly and easily.
“But their leader, Qixana, was one of The Eleven who sacrificed himself to save our world,” an older man’s voice from the crowd chimes in. “What do you and Achutli have to say about that?” Mumbles of agreement and deliberation can be heard throughout those gathered. I listen intently for the answer, since I, too, have the same thought.
“If you recall,” Sianchu starts up after a brief pause for dramatic effect, “the Ulxa were keen allies to the Timuaq. The titans would murder citizens for claimed ritualistic purposes, the Ulxa would resurrect the dead into mindless warriors, and they would send these creatures to fight against us in the name of the Timuaq on the battlefield during the War of Liberation. Qixana took defectors of his own people to fight for the just and right cause. However, he was an exception, not the rule.”
The crowd seems to be mulling this over. Nearly all of us were on the battlefield to fight for our freedom, and it was told we were fighting alongside Ulxa warriors. While their numbers weren’t many, those who fought with us did so as valiantly as any other faction’s warriors, albeit through unconventional means, to say the least. It can’t be denied, however, that the Ulxa people have long been outcasts of the continent, in general. Until the Timuaq seized power, the Ulxa always kept to themselves, conducting their strange rituals and practicing their peculiar religion in their isolated region of the land. They never had ambitions outside of being devout to their deities, whatever their names are. With that in mind, if everyone is resorting back to the way it was before the Timuaq ruined everything, why would the Ulxa be any different? Why would they be suddenly motivated to rule?
It seems I’m not the only one thinking this. A woman from the crowd, carrying an infant on her hip who is distractedly playing with her dangling turquoise necklace, breaks the silence. “Why should we be concerned about the Ulxa? Assuming they actually are a threat, aren’t there other tribes who will encounter them first? We are a long way from Ulxa.”
“We don’t need to engage and fight them directly,” Sianchu says. “Those in Qapauma are not sure what the Ulxa’s plans and ambitions are; we are merely investigating intel we’ve received. That’s where the Tuatiu come in. You are the best spies and scouts in the land, without question. Achutli wants to infiltrate the Ulxa people in charge and report what is discovered. This team of agents will be lead by me–“
Sianchu is immediately drowned out by reactions of protests and shouts throughout the attending people as they question the supposed intel of the Tapeu. I glance over to look at Haluiqa’s reaction, and he also appears genuinely surprised and taken aback by the statement. Sianchu restarts his declarative speech, raising his voice so as to be clearly heard above the objecting crowd.
“–a team lead by me will gather the necessary information and report to the Arbiter. This is a direct command from the ruler himself, and dissenters will be punished, as agreed to by the terms established in–“
“We didn’t put him in charge,” a man manages to yell over Sianchu. “Achutli assumed the role of ruler simply because he is entitled and was the loudest, most persistent voice amongst the remaining leaders. I didn’t agree to him being placed on the throne!”
“It should be a Tuatiu warrior in charge! We were the ones who provided the information to defeat the Timuaq and sacrificed the most out of all tribes!“
Many more shouts flare up, but Haluiqa’s stern face, at first deep in thought and consideration during the raucous roars of the people, finally raises both arms up and attempts to settle down the crowd. His booming voice gets the disgruntled people’s attention.
“My brothers and sisters, our frustration is understandable, but we need to unite in this time of rebuilding. We all must understand that certain compromises must be made in order to ensure peace. The Tuatiu are the most capable agents and warriors in the land, and if there is, in fact, an enemy who looks to disrupt our efforts at peace, we must answer the call. It is what we did to establish our freedom, and it is what we shall do now. It is what the Tuatiu do.”
A few moments elapse as the mob considers Haluiqa’s words. Not everyone is convinced, as there are occasional inaudible shouts. But Haluiqa, sensing a need to establish order once and for all, makes one more declaration to get the crowd’s attention and influence their decision.
“We must support the efforts to restore the unity and peace all factions desire and once enjoyed. This is why I shall count myself among the people selected for the Arbiter’s mission.“
Gasps, followed by pleas of bargaining and attempts to talk Haluiqa out of his decision disrupt the otherwise stunned, silent people, myself included in those numbers of the shocked.
“He… can’t do this, right?” I ask Sachia. “He has to stay here to guide our people! That’s why we’ve accepted him as leader!”
“Aside from him being far too old for such a mission,” Sachia says, with snark. Sensing my scowl burning into the side of his face, Sachia relents. “Well, right. He would be better served staying here.”
No sooner than Sachia says that, others in the crowd loudly echo this sentiment. The Tuatiu have never believed in “royal blood” or nobility, and we have gone for much of our existence without a single leader. But Haluiqa has been the closest to such a thing, and he has spearheaded much of our people’s rebuilding, to where we have almost completely resumed our proud ways from the era before the Timuaq in such a short period.
“Aside from Haluiqa leaving our people’s capital, we can’t fall in line under an outsider!” shouts another from the crowd. “The Tuatiu are only led by the Tuatiu!”
“We swore to aid the reconstruction,” Haluiqa interrupts. “If we are not as good as our word, we become no better than those against whom we fought for our freedom.” Sianchu remains expressionless and lets the crowd’s murmurs die down before speaking.
“After choosing a small team for the mission, we will travel to Qapauma to meet with Achutli and his advisers to share information and formulate the plan. Haluiqa knows his people best, so I will let him select the members and we will head out at dawn.”
The stocky fellow abruptly turns and heads towards Haluiqa’s thatched-roof home. Majority of the remaining crowd stands around, looking stunned. Still processing what occurred, I look at Sachia to ask if he plans on volunteering. He looks at me with a grin on his face.
“Well, you’re most certainly going to volunteer, Inuxeq,” Sachia says with a chuckle. “Normally, I would refuse to be led by some Tapeu noble, but I know someone is going to have to looking out for you, so–“
“First of all,” I interrupt, “I don’t need your protection—the person who would need protecting is you. Second of all, you’re just going to hold me back. And third of all… don’t scoff at me! You know I’m right! What game did you bring back from the hunt, huh? Third of all, everyone in this village knows I’m the best warrior our people have. It would be doing Pachil a disservice to not lend my talents to the cause, especially if they think they’re going to boss people around without a Tuatiu in command.“
“Sun and sky, Inuxeq! Don’t you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?” Sachia quips. “I know I do!”
“Whatever, Sachia,” I say as I gather my bow and quiver of arrows before walking off to my hut. “You’re boring me. I’ll see you at dawn’s first light. That is, unless you do the people a favor and sleep in.”
The sun barely peeks through the leaves of the jungle the following morning, but I have been wide awake well before that. I have been fine-tuning my bow and collecting only the best arrows, sharpening the arrowheads as I contemplate the orders from the day before. If the Ulxa are actually planning on overthrowing Achutli, how can we infiltrate their ranks to get the information? I’ve been on scouting missions before, but never to the other side of the land. There’s a shroud of mystery over that region and its people, storied to have supernatural abilities. My mind races imagining what the lands are like, basing everything off hearsay I’ve received while camped with warriors from other nations. It’s supposed to be an untamed, arid territory with an exaggerated landscape of large, jutting, jagged rock formations, warped trees, and treacherous wildlife.
As I arrive to the village center, there is a group of warriors who have already gathered their belongings and are about to head off. I hurry to catch them when Sachia stops me.
“Inuxeq,” he says in a hushed, consoling tone. “I… I thought Haluiqa visited your home to tell you.”
“Tell me what,” I say in a raised voice, looking over anxiously at the group departing the village and eager to join them. Holding a sling carrying his gear over one shoulder with his right hand, Sachia pats down the air in front of me with his left and tries to calm me down.
“He was supposed to tell you,” Sachia pauses and averts his eyes from mine, looking at the ground. “You’re supposed to stay back. To protect the village. He only wants a small group to–“
“Stay back?!” I can barely contain my anger. “I’m the best warrior we’ve got! How can I not be selected to go?!” I march up to the group, who at this point have turned to see what the commotion is about. Sianchu looks annoyed by the disruption, impatiently awaiting to begin the trek to Qapauma. Before I get too far, Haluiqa is already between me and the others.
“Inuxeq,” Haluiqa says in a patient, paternal voice, “what is the meaning of this disturbance?”
“How could you not select me for this mission? I’m the best warrior, certainly the best archer, and–“
“The decision,” Haluiqa interrupts, “did not come down to only skill on the battlefield, but a warrior’s temperament, as well. This journey and what we’ve been tasked to do will require a significant amount of patience and a different skillset than simply fighting. You are best suited to protect Iantana.”
“Who are you to say I am not ready? I was at the War of Liberation! I have already proven myself!”
“This is an entirely different matter, child,” Haluiqa says, not condescendingly, but part of me still takes it to be that way.
“This is an insult on me, on my family, on my honor!”
“Inuxeq, you are making a scene,” he says, sternly. “The matter is decided. There is no room for discussion or debate. Doing so will be a direct challenge to my authority. Is that what you seek to do?”
I fume in silence. It appears nothing I say or do will work and can only make the situation worse. Haluiqa turns away from me and returns to the group, who halted for a moment to observe the disruption. In one fluid motion, he gathers his belongings and motions for everyone to depart. Sachia doesn’t look back as he heads off with the others. I stand near the square, watching everyone march away and out of the village in the deep blue of the morning.
