“Goddess Walumaq! Goddess Walumaq!”
The chants of the villagers is deafening. Every person fights to touch me, to lay their hands on some part of me. They begin tearing at my garments, grabbing at the bronze and turquoise jewelry around my wrists. The biggest concern is when I feel a tug at my neck, the jostling of the amulets forcing my neck down as the people claw at me, hoping to obtain a memento of their deemed savior of Qespina.
Fear roots me to the ground. I’m terrified of losing the amulets, and I fend off anyone who attempts to clutch at my necklaces. Daylight is slowly shrouded by the persistent horde that closes in around me. How do I escape? Where do I run? I had only wanted to help, to reestablish life in this village and eradicate the evil that encompassed it. How did the situation escalate so quickly? I’m gripped with panic, terrified of being devoured by the swarming masses with no way out of this place.
A hand reaches into the mob and grabs ahold of mine. At first, I pull away reflexively, worried it’s another misguided worshipper. I flinch and cower. Then, I look up and find Paxo’s mother staring back at me, her eyes willing me to grab ahold so that I may be rescued from this place. I grasp her wrist with no intention of ever letting go, like wreckage in a storm. She drags me away from the worshippers as stray hands feebly reach out to me. The shaman, Tlalqo, staves off any pursuers, and I am mercifully able to escape to freedom.
Weaving through the narrow paths of Qespina, the homes of the tiny mountain village whizz by in a blur. I lose track of which direction we’ve taken, and I imagine that’s my rescuer’s intent. The shouts from the crowd spring up occasionally within earshot before gradually fading into the distance. Eventually, we pass the edge of the village and disappear into the rocky landscape. I’m still out of breath from the claustrophobic encounter, so I struggle with the steep climb up, up, up into the mountains.
The mother’s home is humble: a tiny, solitary wooden shack nestled among the verdant valley. The hut is crafted from the very timber that flanks the winding mountain paths, with wooden planks comprising simple windowless walls that appear smoothed by the countless passings of a stone adze. A lone jacaranda tree, barely taller than the gently-sloping thatched roof, sways softly in the breeze. A modest entrance of a draped animal hide flutters at the whim of the wind, occasionally revealing glimpses of the inside, where Paxo plays enthusiastically. As we get closer, the smell of maize cooking on a small hearth sporadically escapes the dwelling.
Upon seeing me, Paxo’s face lights up. Before I’ve taken even two steps into the hut, he greets me with a tremendous hug. Apparently, today, I am simply unable to avoid being touched by anyone from Qespina.
“Come, sit,” the mother offers me a mat on the floor next to the hearth. She waves her hand toward the area as she returns to the cooking maize, inspecting its progress. “I was just starting the meal, which I hope you can partake in. It isn’t much, but I hope the ‘Goddess Savior of Qespina’ will accept my humble offering.”
She smirks at the last part of her statement and chuckles. It’s a relief, as I was worried I may have fallen into the hands of yet another misguided worshipper. Especially after what she witnessed regarding her son in the cave, I’m pleasantly surprised this isn’t the case.
“So, it’s just the two of you here?” I ask. I fear I may be coming across as insensitive, particularly if the child’s father passed away tragically. I don’t want to reopen old wounds. However, I’m curious about the woman’s living and family situation, fretting if I’m imposing upon her modest life and routine. She doesn’t appear upset nor insulted, focused attentively on rotating and cooking the maize on the tiny grill using wooden utensils.
“It has been Paxo and I since he appeared in the village,” she says casually.
“Appeared?”
“Indeed,” she says with a nod. “Wouldn’t say a word. Just walked into Qespina with only the clothes on his back. A young thing. No one is certain of his age, and he didn’t know his numbers when he arrived. We assume he’s a handful of harvests old. He talks now, but never about his birth mother or father. Everyone in the village assumes the worse, with the war and all…
“My husband and I had always talked about starting a family,” she continues, blankly staring into the distance. “That’s how I arrived at the name ‘Paxo’. It was the name my husband wanted to give to our first child. Or ‘Paxotl’ if it were a girl. The boy seems to like the name, I think. He never told anyone his name before coming to Qespina, but he responds to Paxo, so that’s what I’ve decided his name is. My husband and I had tried to start a family of our own, but to no avail. Many prayed to Aqxilapu over us, and I had sunk into a deep depression. It was a dark time for us. Tlalqo prescribed a remedy, and we had our hope restored. But before we could use it, the Timuaq arrived in Qespina.”
She pauses, pressing her lips into a tight line to stifle the sorrow. “My husband died in the skirmish that ensued. We never had a chance to start our family. The Timuaq stole that chance from us. Our union ceremony had only been a few moon cycles before that fateful day.
“I prayed to Aqxilapu, begging Him to tell me why my husband had to be taken from me. But He never answered. I fell into another depression. I will confess, there were dark thoughts that infested my mind. Grieving my murdered husband was difficult. Many in the village avoided me. Except Tlalqo. He was the only one who cared. He had me work alongside him, watching how he prepares the medicines, gathering the herbs for rituals, assisting him in healing the ill and wounded. I know it was to get my mind off my husband’s death, as women can never become shamans. Yet he treated me as an equal, as an apprentice. I’m grateful for how much he cared for me during that time, for giving my life a purpose.”
She moves to another part of the home and gathers handfuls of herbs, tearing them into bits and tossing them into the suspended cauldron that hangs near the grilling maize. She gives it a few stirs before tapping the wooden ladle and setting it nearby. “By the time Paxo appeared, I still hadn’t married. Nobody in the village wanted to be responsible for the orphaned child. I saw it as an opportunity, to have the family my husband and I had dreamt. Many in Qespina were opposed to a lone woman raising a child. Can you believe that? They didn’t want to raise him, yet they didn’t want to allow the one person who offered themselves to raise him. It’s ludicrous!”
During the entirety of our conversation, Paxo blissfully plays with a few dolls made of straw, oblivious to being the subject of our discussion. They’ve been outfitted to appear as warriors, with red and white tunics and fitted with wooden shields and swords. I can see why she described him as having a vivid imagination back at the caves: the young boy stages a large battle scene, filled with tragedy and heroics, brought to life by sound effects crafted by his mouth.
“It was Tlalqo who stood up for me and defended my chance to raise the child,” she continues as she cooks. “Had it not been for him leveraging his status among the village, I don’t know what would have become of Paxo. I dread the thought!”
She stops stirring for a brief moment to cover her frowning mouth. She takes a long, loving gaze at Paxo, then shakes away the sorrowful notion and resumes tending to the meal. I find it truly incredible to have such love for the orphaned child. Had she not told me of how he came to live in Qespina, I never would have guessed that they were not related. That she selflessly cares for him as though he is her own is inspiring.
My heart jumps as footsteps approach the door. The mother stands frozen in place, tightly clutching the ladle as she pays close attention to the door. Out of habit, I grasp the amulets around my neck in one hand, and look about the home for anything that could be used as a weapon to protect myself. They casually walk up to the hut with heavy feet, not making any effort to be stealthy about their arrival. I look back at the mother, whose face shifts from pensiveness to relief and amusement.
“You nearly caused our spirits to leave our bodies, Tlalqo!” she remarks.
The shaman switches his gaze between the woman and me, raising his hands in submission. “My sincerest apologies, Ulpixiq. And to the savior of Qespina!” He bows exaggeratedly, then lifts himself, revealing a wide, toothy grin. “It appears you’ve generated quite a following now, Walumaq.”
I sigh. “This is not what I had in mind when I offered my assistance to the suffering people. I didn’t seek being worshipped; I just wanted to help.”
“Your abilities are unlike anything seen since the Eleven,” Tlalqo reminds me, though I am well aware of this. “Even then, many have only heard the tales of the feats of the Eleven. To witness such events in person?”
“How else can it be explained that you appeared just as I was praying to Aqxilapu to rescue Paxo?” the woman, Ulpixiq, asks. “Were you not sent by our god in my time of need? Had He not heard my prayers?”
“I beg your pardon,” I respond, “but I am from Sanqo, daughter of the great Sanqo ruler, Siunqi, and Cheqansiq. I was sent by the Tempered on a quest to learn the powers possessed by these amulets—the Quyluquna, as they were explained to me.”
“But surely, you were still sent by the will of Aqxilapu to save Qespina, no?” Ulpixiq looks at me questioningly, as though it’s unfathomable to her that my presence could be explained any other way. Perhaps earlier, she was not joking after all. “The Tempered is chosen by Aqxilapu Himself to possess His spirit, to rule over and protect Qiapu, after all.”
I say nothing. While I am a spiritual person, and I can understand one’s unyielding faith in their deity of worship, I find it difficult to refute this woman’s claims when the truth won’t be acknowledged. There are many who would suggest that my decision to travel to Qespina was due to the nurturing hand of their chosen god or goddess. Yet I know where I come from, and I know what led me here.
Hoping to set the matter aside, I change the subject. “Tlalqo, we only had a brief moment to discuss the Quyluquna. As I mentioned, I was sent by the Tempered to inquire about the amulets I have in my possession. I only know a small amount of the lore, but based on the legend told to me by the Tempered, I was under the impression that there was only one amulet that was created by Iachanisqa so that Aqxilapu could defeat the beasts that threatened the land. Yet I came into possession of another amulet. Is there more information about the Quyluquna?”
The shaman walks over to me, closely inspecting the amulets draped around my neck. “There is no question these are the Quyluquna. Iachanisqa crafted several amulets to aid Aqxilapu in His efforts to defeat all creatures that threatened the safety of Qiapu. He then found himself surrounded by all the terrible beasts at once, threatening to kill him and bring an end to Qiapu once and for all. To permanently vanquish the enemy, Aqxilapu had the intelligence to lure them into Xutuina, then cast the amulets into the volcano to exterminate them forever. With that, Aqxilapu transcended to the heavens to watch over and protect Qiapu.”
“So Aqxilapu must have determined that there is a clear need for the amulets to resurface,” Ulpixiq says. “That’s why they’ve reappeared!”
Tlalqo agrees. “That is what the legend speaks of. And having seen the destructive nature of that enemy outsider, what he was able to conjure, it’s apparent that Aqxilapu deems it necessary to bestow the Quyluquna upon you, Walumaq.”
I’m unsettled by their assumptions. Could these amulets have been crafted by Iachanisqa many generations ago, and they’ve suddenly reappeared? It’s possible, certainly. Yet declaring me sent by Aqxilapu? Once again, I find it difficult to believe that’s what has taken place, though I feel uncomfortable telling them this directly.
I know of the pantheon of gods on Pachil, with each faction seemingly preferring or favoring one over the others. For the Sanqo, our ancestors followed Nazqila, though only the old families, such as mine, still follow him. Depending on the family and where one resides on the island, some have turned to worshipping our people’s member of the Eleven, Iaqa. Then there are those like myself who have become spiritual, becoming in tune to the world and harmonizing with Pachil. However, I will still say prayers to Nazqila, to remain in my family’s good graces, of course.
With that said, perhaps it’s likely that the Qiapu’s chosen god has guided me. Perhaps he sent the crone, Xasiq, to ultimately lead me to Qespina for this purpose. Who knows the plans the gods craft? Yet, when I look down at the amulets around my neck, how simply constructed they are with so little embellishments, something feels off about the origin of these particular pieces of jewelry. There’s a history behind their existence, certainly, but many questions remain.
I decide to challenge the shaman’s theory. “Tlalqo, I ask about the amulets because of where we discovered them. One was found to be in the possession of the ‘Eye in the Flame’, a group to which the sorcerer who assaulted us at the ritual site belongs, and the other was in a hidden chamber within the palace at Pichaqta. Two entirely separate locations. It’s impossible for humans to comprehend the gods’ will or intentions, but… if all of the amulets were cast into the volcano, might I ask, how did these two end up in separate locations?”
Tlalqo looks at me, confused as though I am entirely missing the point. “Aqxilapu obviously understood that these amulets were necessary to stop whatever evil is threatening the land. But to prevent them from falling into the wrong hands, he scattered their locations for you, the divinely selected, to find. How the Eye in the Flame, as they’re supposedly called, stumbled upon them is anyone’s guess. However, if you don’t discover them all soon, it is likely this evil will find the remaining ones and use them for evil.”
“So you must hurry!” Ulpixiq exclaims. “We can’t allow them to destroy any more lands!” The mother practically pushes me out the door, gently nudging me out of her hut as though this matter must be resolved right away.
Tlalqo rests a hand on her shoulder to calm her. “It is okay, noble Ulpixiq. Aqxilapu’s plans may have gotten disrupted by the Eye in the Flame momentarily, but they are back on track, now that Walumaq has regained possession of them.” This seems to comfort Ulpixiq somehow, and she resumes stirring the giant cauldron.
“How many amulets remain?” I inquire, hoping the number is low so that Paxilche, Pomaqli, and I stand a chance to recover them all before the Eye in the Flame does.
To my dismay, that is not the answer given to me by Tlalqo. “If memory serves, I believe there were nine great beasts of Qiapu. Thus, Iachanisqa crafted nine amulets, one for each monster.”
I stand in place, bewildered. “And how am I to find seven more amulets?”
“Aqxilapu guided you to these two,” Tlalqo says in what he believes is a reassuring manner. “I have no doubt he will guide you to the others. Heed His call, and your way will be forged by Him!”
At this, Ulpixiq’s face shows relief while Tlalqo looks upon me with swelling pride. Besides this complete blind and baseless faith, this prospect is daunting upon consideration. We chanced upon the first amulet, and the second happened to be around a sorcerer’s neck. Though fate is fickle and fleeting, it can’t possibly come down to chance to find seven others on this vast continent. What these two propose is madness!
Greatly disheartened, I collect myself and thank them for their hospitality. Preventing me from being consumed by the mob was monumental in providing me the opportunity to seek answers. Yet, instead, I’m left with more questions. Where did these amulets come from? Are there really nine amulets in existence? Where are the other seven? How did the amulet in Pichaqta appear in the hidden compartment of the ritual chamber? And how did the Eye in the Flame come into possession of an amulet?
I part ways with Tlalqo, Ulpixiq, and Paxo, but not before they say a prayer to Aqxilapu, once again thanking him for my presence in their time of need. Ulpixiq insists I stay for a meal prior to embarking on my quest, but I politely decline once more. I feel I must urgently return to Pichaqta and reunite with Paxilche and Pomaqli, informing them of what little I’ve discovered here. But also, what I encountered in Qespina.
Panic seeps in as I worry about departing this village. Will I be confronted by more delusional worshippers? I won’t be able to make it out of this place if I’m engaged with all the villagers once again. I need to find another way to leave unnoticed. With where Qespina is located, however—in the valley between two steep mountain cliffs—there aren’t many quick ways to return to Pichaqta. From what Paxilche has told me, the entire mountain range is filled with jagged peaks and an oppressive elevation that will make it difficult to traverse. My only way is through the village, but can I hide until night, when I could slip away under the shroud of darkness?
No sooner than while I’m figuring out a plan, I hear a tremendous commotion occurring inside the village. Many shouts and arguments pierce the air, echoing through the mountain pass. My curiosity overtakes me, and I walk cautiously toward Qespina.
There, six figures are surrounded by numerous villagers. I squint to see who these travelers are, inspecting their appearances. To my astonishment, I immediately recognize Paxilche and Pomaqli, both men wearing various combinations of the Qiapu white and red. It’s the other four that give me pause, and my stomach twists into knots when I notice the variety of colors represented in their garments and accessories. The corals and turquoises and sea foam blues… Those are the colors of individual families of Sanqo.
Paxilche sweeps the crowd, looking around as the other military-minded men handle the numbers of gathered people. After a long search, his eyes eventually connect with mine. He taps Pomaqli on the shoulder, and I immediately retreat, knowing that this group of Qespina villagers are about to swarm me once they realize I’m nearby.
With nowhere to hide or conceal my presence, I rush off beyond the limits of the village, hoping to find someplace away from the mob of villagers. Before I get too far, however, a hand grabs my shoulder. Impulsively, I swat it away, hoping to escape my pursuer’s clutches. But as I’m spun around, I see the perplexed face of Paxilche.
“Walumaq? Is everything alright?” he questions, looking about for any sign of danger.
“I must get away from the villagers,” I express with urgency. “They’re a bit… misinformed. Misguided.”
Before Paxilche can ask follow-up questions, I pull him aside and scamper further down the path. Pounding footsteps grow louder and louder, and I hear myself involuntarily whimper at the thought of the pursuing crowds accosting me. Soon, we’re joined by only Pomaqli and the four Sanqo warriors. With the presence of Atoyaqtli, I can’t decide whether I should be relieved or concerned.
“Princess Walumaq,” he says, his voice tinged with a mix of alarm and annoyance. “I see you’ve been busy.”
I want to laugh at the absurdity of his understatement, but I’m too petrified. Besides, there’s the vital news I must break to them about the cult’s machinations.
“The Eye in the Flame,” I begin to sputter. “They’re marching to Analoixan, the Ulxa capital!”
“If they’ve got an army of those powerful sorcerers we faced in Pichaqta…” Paxilche says, leaving the daunting prospect to dangle in the air. With the numbers the cult had when they attacked the palace, they were able to cause significant destruction. If their numbers have grown, all of Pachil could be in great peril.
Appearing confused, the Sanqo warriors shift their weight uncomfortably until Atoyaqtli breaks the silence. “That is a matter the Ulxa will have to confront themselves. We’ve been commanded by Siunqi to return you to Sanqo. We must go, back to Haqiliqa, at once, princess.”
“But you don’t understand!” I shout, no longer caring whether I’m heard by the Qespina villagers. “This evil threatens not just the Ulxa, not just the Qiapu, but all of Pachil! I’ve seen—we’ve seen—the destructive force they wield. They murdered innocents in Chalaqta, anyone who steps in their way! I’ve heard members of their cult—people in the Tapeu nobility—speak of overthrowing the Arbiter and destroying every faction that doesn’t capitulate to their whims. We cannot return to Sanqo until they’re defeated!”
“You will have to tell this to your father,” Pomacha says, devoid of emotion. “Come. We must go now.”
“Especially if there are threats here on the continent,” Chiqama says, “we don’t want to be caught in the undertow of anything that endangers our ability to return home safely.”
“Every moment we delay, the Eye in the Flame grows stronger,” I press on, desperation sharpening my words. “My father, our people, we all stand to lose everything if their dark ambitions are realized. Of course, returning to Sanqo is important, but what home will we return to if Pachil falls into chaos? We have the power, here and now, to make a stand and prevent a future where our lands are nothing but a memory under their rule. I cannot—will not—turn my back on that.”
“We’ve spent entirely too long trying to track you down, princess,” Naqispi scolds me. I’m just now seeing his marred face, bandaged up and dotted with crimson. “We’ve faced a multitude of challenges and dangers just getting here. Nine hells, just look at my scars as proof enough! I’m tired of chasing you down, and I want to get off this stinking continent.”
“Then go,” I say directly. “Travel back to Sanqo and tell my father that I will return once this evil has been eradicated.”
“We cannot allow you to do that, princess,” Pomacha says.
Through his gnashed teeth, Naqispi adds, “If you refuse to come with us willingly, we will take you by force, child.”
“The last time someone called me a ‘child’, it didn’t end well for them,” I threaten. “I would watch your tongue when speaking to me.”
“Lady Walumaq,” Pomaqli interjects. “Perhaps you should join your people’s warriors and go to Sanqo. When fighting the Eye in the Flame, the Qiapu were only able to halt their progress through our large army, and they still caused us great suffering and loss of life. The seven of us taking on an entire army of sorcerers feels like an insurmountable challenge. We’ll need much larger numbers to even challenge them.”
Paxilche steps forward, looking concerned. “Your determination is clear, and you’re driven by a noble cause—one that I, too, believe in. But Pomaqli’s right. The Eye in the Flame is not an enemy to be underestimated. They have taught us a hard lesson of their destructive power. Rushing into Analoixan without a solid plan and adequate support would be reckless. We need to be strategic about this, not just brave. Your return to Sanqo may be an opportunity to discuss with your father about having your people aid us in the fight.”
“Princess,” Atoyaqtli joins in, “as much as we understand your urgency, our primary duty remains to ensure your safety. Sanqo needs its princess, especially in times of uncertainty. Continuing this fight without the backing of our people might risk more than we can afford.”
I look between them, their earnest council resonating deeply within me. They speak of caution, duty, and the need for strength in numbers, but my heart screams for action against the looming threat. “I hear your concerns, and your words are not lost on me” I say, my gaze drifting across their expectant faces. “But you must understand: my spirit is bound to this fight, to shield Pachil from the shadows that seek to engulf it. There is likely not enough time to travel to Sanqo and then return to confront the cultists. Whether I stand with an army behind me or alone, my path remains clear.”
I let a moment of silence fill the space between us. “I will consider your advice and deliberate our next move with care. The decision I make will not be in haste, but in the hope of a brighter future for all of Pachil. Whatever path I choose, know it’s to be in service to our land’s survival and prosperity.”
Naqispi motions to protest, but Pomacha halts him with a hand placed on his chest and a solemn nod. Their expressions are a reluctant understanding, aware that my mind wrestles with a decision that could change the course of our fight against the Eye in the Flame. I turn away, leaving them with a promise hanging in the balance. My next steps are shrouded in the uncertainty of the coming dawn.
“Goddess Walumaq! Goddess Walumaq!”
The chants of the villagers is deafening. Every person fights to touch me, to lay their hands on some part of me. They begin tearing at my garments, grabbing at the bronze and turquoise jewelry around my wrists. The biggest concern is when I feel a tug at my neck, the jostling of the amulets forcing my neck down as the people claw at me, hoping to obtain a memento of their deemed savior of Qespina.
Fear roots me to the ground. I’m terrified of losing the amulets, and I fend off anyone who attempts to clutch at my necklaces. Daylight is slowly shrouded by the persistent horde that closes in around me. How do I escape? Where do I run? I had only wanted to help, to reestablish life in this village and eradicate the evil that encompassed it. How did the situation escalate so quickly? I’m gripped with panic, terrified of being devoured by the swarming masses with no way out of this place.
A hand reaches into the mob and grabs ahold of mine. At first, I pull away reflexively, worried it’s another misguided worshipper. I flinch and cower. Then, I look up and find Paxo’s mother staring back at me, her eyes willing me to grab ahold so that I may be rescued from this place. I grasp her wrist with no intention of ever letting go, like wreckage in a storm. She drags me away from the worshippers as stray hands feebly reach out to me. The shaman, Tlalqo, staves off any pursuers, and I am mercifully able to escape to freedom.
Weaving through the narrow paths of Qespina, the homes of the tiny mountain village whizz by in a blur. I lose track of which direction we’ve taken, and I imagine that’s my rescuer’s intent. The shouts from the crowd spring up occasionally within earshot before gradually fading into the distance. Eventually, we pass the edge of the village and disappear into the rocky landscape. I’m still out of breath from the claustrophobic encounter, so I struggle with the steep climb up, up, up into the mountains.
The mother’s home is humble: a tiny, solitary wooden shack nestled among the verdant valley. The hut is crafted from the very timber that flanks the winding mountain paths, with wooden planks comprising simple windowless walls that appear smoothed by the countless passings of a stone adze. A lone jacaranda tree, barely taller than the gently-sloping thatched roof, sways softly in the breeze. A modest entrance of a draped animal hide flutters at the whim of the wind, occasionally revealing glimpses of the inside, where Paxo plays enthusiastically. As we get closer, the smell of maize cooking on a small hearth sporadically escapes the dwelling.
Upon seeing me, Paxo’s face lights up. Before I’ve taken even two steps into the hut, he greets me with a tremendous hug. Apparently, today, I am simply unable to avoid being touched by anyone from Qespina.
“Come, sit,” the mother offers me a mat on the floor next to the hearth. She waves her hand toward the area as she returns to the cooking maize, inspecting its progress. “I was just starting the meal, which I hope you can partake in. It isn’t much, but I hope the ‘Goddess Savior of Qespina’ will accept my humble offering.”
She smirks at the last part of her statement and chuckles. It’s a relief, as I was worried I may have fallen into the hands of yet another misguided worshipper. Especially after what she witnessed regarding her son in the cave, I’m pleasantly surprised this isn’t the case.
“So, it’s just the two of you here?” I ask. I fear I may be coming across as insensitive, particularly if the child’s father passed away tragically. I don’t want to reopen old wounds. However, I’m curious about the woman’s living and family situation, fretting if I’m imposing upon her modest life and routine. She doesn’t appear upset nor insulted, focused attentively on rotating and cooking the maize on the tiny grill using wooden utensils.
“It has been Paxo and I since he appeared in the village,” she says casually.
“Appeared?”
“Indeed,” she says with a nod. “Wouldn’t say a word. Just walked into Qespina with only the clothes on his back. A young thing. No one is certain of his age, and he didn’t know his numbers when he arrived. We assume he’s a handful of harvests old. He talks now, but never about his birth mother or father. Everyone in the village assumes the worse, with the war and all…
“My husband and I had always talked about starting a family,” she continues, blankly staring into the distance. “That’s how I arrived at the name ‘Paxo’. It was the name my husband wanted to give to our first child. Or ‘Paxotl’ if it were a girl. The boy seems to like the name, I think. He never told anyone his name before coming to Qespina, but he responds to Paxo, so that’s what I’ve decided his name is. My husband and I had tried to start a family of our own, but to no avail. Many prayed to Aqxilapu over us, and I had sunk into a deep depression. It was a dark time for us. Tlalqo prescribed a remedy, and we had our hope restored. But before we could use it, the Timuaq arrived in Qespina.”
She pauses, pressing her lips into a tight line to stifle the sorrow. “My husband died in the skirmish that ensued. We never had a chance to start our family. The Timuaq stole that chance from us. Our union ceremony had only been a few moon cycles before that fateful day.
“I prayed to Aqxilapu, begging Him to tell me why my husband had to be taken from me. But He never answered. I fell into another depression. I will confess, there were dark thoughts that infested my mind. Grieving my murdered husband was difficult. Many in the village avoided me. Except Tlalqo. He was the only one who cared. He had me work alongside him, watching how he prepares the medicines, gathering the herbs for rituals, assisting him in healing the ill and wounded. I know it was to get my mind off my husband’s death, as women can never become shamans. Yet he treated me as an equal, as an apprentice. I’m grateful for how much he cared for me during that time, for giving my life a purpose.”
She moves to another part of the home and gathers handfuls of herbs, tearing them into bits and tossing them into the suspended cauldron that hangs near the grilling maize. She gives it a few stirs before tapping the wooden ladle and setting it nearby. “By the time Paxo appeared, I still hadn’t married. Nobody in the village wanted to be responsible for the orphaned child. I saw it as an opportunity, to have the family my husband and I had dreamt. Many in Qespina were opposed to a lone woman raising a child. Can you believe that? They didn’t want to raise him, yet they didn’t want to allow the one person who offered themselves to raise him. It’s ludicrous!”
During the entirety of our conversation, Paxo blissfully plays with a few dolls made of straw, oblivious to being the subject of our discussion. They’ve been outfitted to appear as warriors, with red and white tunics and fitted with wooden shields and swords. I can see why she described him as having a vivid imagination back at the caves: the young boy stages a large battle scene, filled with tragedy and heroics, brought to life by sound effects crafted by his mouth.
“It was Tlalqo who stood up for me and defended my chance to raise the child,” she continues as she cooks. “Had it not been for him leveraging his status among the village, I don’t know what would have become of Paxo. I dread the thought!”
She stops stirring for a brief moment to cover her frowning mouth. She takes a long, loving gaze at Paxo, then shakes away the sorrowful notion and resumes tending to the meal. I find it truly incredible to have such love for the orphaned child. Had she not told me of how he came to live in Qespina, I never would have guessed that they were not related. That she selflessly cares for him as though he is her own is inspiring.
My heart jumps as footsteps approach the door. The mother stands frozen in place, tightly clutching the ladle as she pays close attention to the door. Out of habit, I grasp the amulets around my neck in one hand, and look about the home for anything that could be used as a weapon to protect myself. They casually walk up to the hut with heavy feet, not making any effort to be stealthy about their arrival. I look back at the mother, whose face shifts from pensiveness to relief and amusement.
“You nearly caused our spirits to leave our bodies, Tlalqo!” she remarks.
The shaman switches his gaze between the woman and me, raising his hands in submission. “My sincerest apologies, Ulpixiq. And to the savior of Qespina!” He bows exaggeratedly, then lifts himself, revealing a wide, toothy grin. “It appears you’ve generated quite a following now, Walumaq.”
I sigh. “This is not what I had in mind when I offered my assistance to the suffering people. I didn’t seek being worshipped; I just wanted to help.”
“Your abilities are unlike anything seen since the Eleven,” Tlalqo reminds me, though I am well aware of this. “Even then, many have only heard the tales of the feats of the Eleven. To witness such events in person?”
“How else can it be explained that you appeared just as I was praying to Aqxilapu to rescue Paxo?” the woman, Ulpixiq, asks. “Were you not sent by our god in my time of need? Had He not heard my prayers?”
“I beg your pardon,” I respond, “but I am from Sanqo, daughter of the great Sanqo ruler, Siunqi, and Cheqansiq. I was sent by the Tempered on a quest to learn the powers possessed by these amulets—the Quyluquna, as they were explained to me.”
“But surely, you were still sent by the will of Aqxilapu to save Qespina, no?” Ulpixiq looks at me questioningly, as though it’s unfathomable to her that my presence could be explained any other way. Perhaps earlier, she was not joking after all. “The Tempered is chosen by Aqxilapu Himself to possess His spirit, to rule over and protect Qiapu, after all.”
I say nothing. While I am a spiritual person, and I can understand one’s unyielding faith in their deity of worship, I find it difficult to refute this woman’s claims when the truth won’t be acknowledged. There are many who would suggest that my decision to travel to Qespina was due to the nurturing hand of their chosen god or goddess. Yet I know where I come from, and I know what led me here.
Hoping to set the matter aside, I change the subject. “Tlalqo, we only had a brief moment to discuss the Quyluquna. As I mentioned, I was sent by the Tempered to inquire about the amulets I have in my possession. I only know a small amount of the lore, but based on the legend told to me by the Tempered, I was under the impression that there was only one amulet that was created by Iachanisqa so that Aqxilapu could defeat the beasts that threatened the land. Yet I came into possession of another amulet. Is there more information about the Quyluquna?”
The shaman walks over to me, closely inspecting the amulets draped around my neck. “There is no question these are the Quyluquna. Iachanisqa crafted several amulets to aid Aqxilapu in His efforts to defeat all creatures that threatened the safety of Qiapu. He then found himself surrounded by all the terrible beasts at once, threatening to kill him and bring an end to Qiapu once and for all. To permanently vanquish the enemy, Aqxilapu had the intelligence to lure them into Xutuina, then cast the amulets into the volcano to exterminate them forever. With that, Aqxilapu transcended to the heavens to watch over and protect Qiapu.”
“So Aqxilapu must have determined that there is a clear need for the amulets to resurface,” Ulpixiq says. “That’s why they’ve reappeared!”
Tlalqo agrees. “That is what the legend speaks of. And having seen the destructive nature of that enemy outsider, what he was able to conjure, it’s apparent that Aqxilapu deems it necessary to bestow the Quyluquna upon you, Walumaq.”
I’m unsettled by their assumptions. Could these amulets have been crafted by Iachanisqa many generations ago, and they’ve suddenly reappeared? It’s possible, certainly. Yet declaring me sent by Aqxilapu? Once again, I find it difficult to believe that’s what has taken place, though I feel uncomfortable telling them this directly.
I know of the pantheon of gods on Pachil, with each faction seemingly preferring or favoring one over the others. For the Sanqo, our ancestors followed Nazqila, though only the old families, such as mine, still follow him. Depending on the family and where one resides on the island, some have turned to worshipping our people’s member of the Eleven, Iaqa. Then there are those like myself who have become spiritual, becoming in tune to the world and harmonizing with Pachil. However, I will still say prayers to Nazqila, to remain in my family’s good graces, of course.
With that said, perhaps it’s likely that the Qiapu’s chosen god has guided me. Perhaps he sent the crone, Xasiq, to ultimately lead me to Qespina for this purpose. Who knows the plans the gods craft? Yet, when I look down at the amulets around my neck, how simply constructed they are with so little embellishments, something feels off about the origin of these particular pieces of jewelry. There’s a history behind their existence, certainly, but many questions remain.
I decide to challenge the shaman’s theory. “Tlalqo, I ask about the amulets because of where we discovered them. One was found to be in the possession of the ‘Eye in the Flame’, a group to which the sorcerer who assaulted us at the ritual site belongs, and the other was in a hidden chamber within the palace at Pichaqta. Two entirely separate locations. It’s impossible for humans to comprehend the gods’ will or intentions, but… if all of the amulets were cast into the volcano, might I ask, how did these two end up in separate locations?”
Tlalqo looks at me, confused as though I am entirely missing the point. “Aqxilapu obviously understood that these amulets were necessary to stop whatever evil is threatening the land. But to prevent them from falling into the wrong hands, he scattered their locations for you, the divinely selected, to find. How the Eye in the Flame, as they’re supposedly called, stumbled upon them is anyone’s guess. However, if you don’t discover them all soon, it is likely this evil will find the remaining ones and use them for evil.”
“So you must hurry!” Ulpixiq exclaims. “We can’t allow them to destroy any more lands!” The mother practically pushes me out the door, gently nudging me out of her hut as though this matter must be resolved right away.
Tlalqo rests a hand on her shoulder to calm her. “It is okay, noble Ulpixiq. Aqxilapu’s plans may have gotten disrupted by the Eye in the Flame momentarily, but they are back on track, now that Walumaq has regained possession of them.” This seems to comfort Ulpixiq somehow, and she resumes stirring the giant cauldron.
“How many amulets remain?” I inquire, hoping the number is low so that Paxilche, Pomaqli, and I stand a chance to recover them all before the Eye in the Flame does.
To my dismay, that is not the answer given to me by Tlalqo. “If memory serves, I believe there were nine great beasts of Qiapu. Thus, Iachanisqa crafted nine amulets, one for each monster.”
I stand in place, bewildered. “And how am I to find seven more amulets?”
“Aqxilapu guided you to these two,” Tlalqo says in what he believes is a reassuring manner. “I have no doubt he will guide you to the others. Heed His call, and your way will be forged by Him!”
At this, Ulpixiq’s face shows relief while Tlalqo looks upon me with swelling pride. Besides this complete blind and baseless faith, this prospect is daunting upon consideration. We chanced upon the first amulet, and the second happened to be around a sorcerer’s neck. Though fate is fickle and fleeting, it can’t possibly come down to chance to find seven others on this vast continent. What these two propose is madness!
Greatly disheartened, I collect myself and thank them for their hospitality. Preventing me from being consumed by the mob was monumental in providing me the opportunity to seek answers. Yet, instead, I’m left with more questions. Where did these amulets come from? Are there really nine amulets in existence? Where are the other seven? How did the amulet in Pichaqta appear in the hidden compartment of the ritual chamber? And how did the Eye in the Flame come into possession of an amulet?
I part ways with Tlalqo, Ulpixiq, and Paxo, but not before they say a prayer to Aqxilapu, once again thanking him for my presence in their time of need. Ulpixiq insists I stay for a meal prior to embarking on my quest, but I politely decline once more. I feel I must urgently return to Pichaqta and reunite with Paxilche and Pomaqli, informing them of what little I’ve discovered here. But also, what I encountered in Qespina.
Panic seeps in as I worry about departing this village. Will I be confronted by more delusional worshippers? I won’t be able to make it out of this place if I’m engaged with all the villagers once again. I need to find another way to leave unnoticed. With where Qespina is located, however—in the valley between two steep mountain cliffs—there aren’t many quick ways to return to Pichaqta. From what Paxilche has told me, the entire mountain range is filled with jagged peaks and an oppressive elevation that will make it difficult to traverse. My only way is through the village, but can I hide until night, when I could slip away under the shroud of darkness?
No sooner than while I’m figuring out a plan, I hear a tremendous commotion occurring inside the village. Many shouts and arguments pierce the air, echoing through the mountain pass. My curiosity overtakes me, and I walk cautiously toward Qespina.
There, six figures are surrounded by numerous villagers. I squint to see who these travelers are, inspecting their appearances. To my astonishment, I immediately recognize Paxilche and Pomaqli, both men wearing various combinations of the Qiapu white and red. It’s the other four that give me pause, and my stomach twists into knots when I notice the variety of colors represented in their garments and accessories. The corals and turquoises and sea foam blues… Those are the colors of individual families of Sanqo.
Paxilche sweeps the crowd, looking around as the other military-minded men handle the numbers of gathered people. After a long search, his eyes eventually connect with mine. He taps Pomaqli on the shoulder, and I immediately retreat, knowing that this group of Qespina villagers are about to swarm me once they realize I’m nearby.
With nowhere to hide or conceal my presence, I rush off beyond the limits of the village, hoping to find someplace away from the mob of villagers. Before I get too far, however, a hand grabs my shoulder. Impulsively, I swat it away, hoping to escape my pursuer’s clutches. But as I’m spun around, I see the perplexed face of Paxilche.
“Walumaq? Is everything alright?” he questions, looking about for any sign of danger.
“I must get away from the villagers,” I express with urgency. “They’re a bit… misinformed. Misguided.”
Before Paxilche can ask follow-up questions, I pull him aside and scamper further down the path. Pounding footsteps grow louder and louder, and I hear myself involuntarily whimper at the thought of the pursuing crowds accosting me. Soon, we’re joined by only Pomaqli and the four Sanqo warriors. With the presence of Atoyaqtli, I can’t decide whether I should be relieved or concerned.
“Princess Walumaq,” he says, his voice tinged with a mix of alarm and annoyance. “I see you’ve been busy.”
I want to laugh at the absurdity of his understatement, but I’m too petrified. Besides, there’s the vital news I must break to them about the cult’s machinations.
“The Eye in the Flame,” I begin to sputter. “They’re marching to Analoixan, the Ulxa capital!”
“If they’ve got an army of those powerful sorcerers we faced in Pichaqta…” Paxilche says, leaving the daunting prospect to dangle in the air. With the numbers the cult had when they attacked the palace, they were able to cause significant destruction. If their numbers have grown, all of Pachil could be in great peril.
Appearing confused, the Sanqo warriors shift their weight uncomfortably until Atoyaqtli breaks the silence. “That is a matter the Ulxa will have to confront themselves. We’ve been commanded by Siunqi to return you to Sanqo. We must go, back to Haqiliqa, at once, princess.”
“But you don’t understand!” I shout, no longer caring whether I’m heard by the Qespina villagers. “This evil threatens not just the Ulxa, not just the Qiapu, but all of Pachil! I’ve seen—we’ve seen—the destructive force they wield. They murdered innocents in Chalaqta, anyone who steps in their way! I’ve heard members of their cult—people in the Tapeu nobility—speak of overthrowing the Arbiter and destroying every faction that doesn’t capitulate to their whims. We cannot return to Sanqo until they’re defeated!”
“You will have to tell this to your father,” Pomacha says, devoid of emotion. “Come. We must go now.”
“Especially if there are threats here on the continent,” Chiqama says, “we don’t want to be caught in the undertow of anything that endangers our ability to return home safely.”
“Every moment we delay, the Eye in the Flame grows stronger,” I press on, desperation sharpening my words. “My father, our people, we all stand to lose everything if their dark ambitions are realized. Of course, returning to Sanqo is important, but what home will we return to if Pachil falls into chaos? We have the power, here and now, to make a stand and prevent a future where our lands are nothing but a memory under their rule. I cannot—will not—turn my back on that.”
“We’ve spent entirely too long trying to track you down, princess,” Naqispi scolds me. I’m just now seeing his marred face, bandaged up and dotted with crimson. “We’ve faced a multitude of challenges and dangers just getting here. Nine hells, just look at my scars as proof enough! I’m tired of chasing you down, and I want to get off this stinking continent.”
“Then go,” I say directly. “Travel back to Sanqo and tell my father that I will return once this evil has been eradicated.”
“We cannot allow you to do that, princess,” Pomacha says.
Through his gnashed teeth, Naqispi adds, “If you refuse to come with us willingly, we will take you by force, child.”
“The last time someone called me a ‘child’, it didn’t end well for them,” I threaten. “I would watch your tongue when speaking to me.”
“Lady Walumaq,” Pomaqli interjects. “Perhaps you should join your people’s warriors and go to Sanqo. When fighting the Eye in the Flame, the Qiapu were only able to halt their progress through our large army, and they still caused us great suffering and loss of life. The seven of us taking on an entire army of sorcerers feels like an insurmountable challenge. We’ll need much larger numbers to even challenge them.”
Paxilche steps forward, looking concerned. “Your determination is clear, and you’re driven by a noble cause—one that I, too, believe in. But Pomaqli’s right. The Eye in the Flame is not an enemy to be underestimated. They have taught us a hard lesson of their destructive power. Rushing into Analoixan without a solid plan and adequate support would be reckless. We need to be strategic about this, not just brave. Your return to Sanqo may be an opportunity to discuss with your father about having your people aid us in the fight.”
“Princess,” Atoyaqtli joins in, “as much as we understand your urgency, our primary duty remains to ensure your safety. Sanqo needs its princess, especially in times of uncertainty. Continuing this fight without the backing of our people might risk more than we can afford.”
I look between them, their earnest council resonating deeply within me. They speak of caution, duty, and the need for strength in numbers, but my heart screams for action against the looming threat. “I hear your concerns, and your words are not lost on me” I say, my gaze drifting across their expectant faces. “But you must understand: my spirit is bound to this fight, to shield Pachil from the shadows that seek to engulf it. There is likely not enough time to travel to Sanqo and then return to confront the cultists. Whether I stand with an army behind me or alone, my path remains clear.”
I let a moment of silence fill the space between us. “I will consider your advice and deliberate our next move with care. The decision I make will not be in haste, but in the hope of a brighter future for all of Pachil. Whatever path I choose, know it’s to be in service to our land’s survival and prosperity.”
Naqispi motions to protest, but Pomacha halts him with a hand placed on his chest and a solemn nod. Their expressions are a reluctant understanding, aware that my mind wrestles with a decision that could change the course of our fight against the Eye in the Flame. I turn away, leaving them with a promise hanging in the balance. My next steps are shrouded in the uncertainty of the coming dawn.
