With his eyes narrowed, Upachu alternates his gaze between the papyrus and the amulet. His face is practically pressed against them, and he mutters unintelligibly as he meticulously studies the glyphs on the sheets from the retrieved lumuli chest. Resting along the wall, the remaining clay pots are placed close by, some laying on their sides. The lapis lazuli necklace on the plain gold chain sways gently as it dangles from his wrinkled, weathered hand, catching the soft morning light to illuminate a brilliant blue.
“The handwriting is the same,” Upachu observes. “The strokes, the way the brush flowed on the papyrus… Definitely made by the same person.”
He sits up on his bedroll, still bundled in an assortment of alpaca wool blankets woven in red, blue, and brown patterns. Color has returned to his cheeks, and he looks his usual spirited self. For a brief moment earlier in the morning, he got up to make some herbal tea for us, as well as the two guards posted outside the door of his home, before succumbing to exhaustion and returning to his room. Though he can only act in short bursts of movement, it’s a relief to see him moving about once again.
“Who do you think is the ‘symbol weaver’?” I ask, uncertain how to address the person responsible for making these glyphs.
“It’s difficult to say,” he responds, stroking his chin as the gold chain clatters about with the movement while still clutching the papyrus in his other hand. “The maker of these marks could be Atima, considering where we discovered the glyphs initially. But the question remains: how many more of these chests exist?”
“And do they all contain amulets?” I add. “This one stored the lapis lazuli amulet, but did the other one that we found at the Temple of the Titans possess one, as well? If so–“
“Did Qaschiqe discover it and hand it to Anqatil?” Upachu finishes my troubling thought. “Or Iquna—has that man been accounted for? He was the suspicious person lurking around the temple. Who was that man?”
I had nearly forgotten that name; it has been so long, and the journey so long, as well. Thoughts surge through me like a river in flood. Could this Iquna be a cultist of the Eye in the Flame? Did we defeat him there, or does he still live? If alive, and due to the proximity between Hilaqta and the Temple of the Titans, could he be the one who sent the assassin after us? What did that one zealot say with his dying breaths? ”The champions were shown the way through the glyphs.” And a mention of a ‘Sunfire’, surely their leader. Do these glyphs lead to more amulets?
“We never should have allowed Qaschiqe to live,” I grumble. “He’s the source to much of these troubles.”
“And my understanding is, he hasn’t returned to the Great Library since that fateful day,” Upachu says, shaking his head in disappointment. “You think you know somebody…”
Rage ignites within me like a racing wildfire through my veins. But I do my best to force my anger to subside, choosing instead to focus on what we can solve. “What did you discover regarding the clay pots from Wichanaqta?”
A grin spans widely on Upachu’s face. “When I was well-rested enough, I conversed with several keepers at the Great Library who are well traveled around Pachil. It was difficult to abstractly convey the images on the pots without revealing such mystical items were in our possession. However, a few were surprisingly able to decipher what I was describing. Given the rough portrayal of the landmarks and–“
“Out of curiosity,” I interrupt to ask, “what did you tell them you were seeking with these images?”
He tilts his head side to side, his eyes darting about like a child caught in the act of committing trouble. “Well, I may have suggested that I was undertaking a grand project,” Upachu begins with a sheepish grin. “I told them I intended to paint the Pachil landscape as a mural on the inner walls of the Great Library. I said I wanted to capture the essence of all the distinct, rich—don’t you dare laugh—locations across our great continent. It was, after all, for the sake of ‘artistic and cultural preservation’.”
I raise an eyebrow as a smirk threatens to escape the corners of my mouth. “And they believed that? You, the sudden artist and cultural preservationist?”
“You’d be surprised what people will do for the sake of art,” he shrugs. “Anyway, Ithought it was clever! Besides, it got them talking about the geographical features, the legends tied to each place… It was a great cover story!”
I shake my head in disbelief, but I manage a chuckle, as I must admit: it’s a sharp plan. And although I’m still furious at the development involving Qaschiqe, Upachu’s recounting has lifted my spirits ever so slightly.
“Alright, then, what were you able to learn, esteemed expert of art?”
Upachu beams with pride. “I know the four locations of each ‘X’ marked on the pots!”
“Do tell,” I encourage him, my intrigued self leans in. He scoots over to retrieve the pots, then holds each one up as he explains the painted markings.
“So, you already know of the first destination, seeing as you,” he bobs his head about as he seeks the words to describe the indescribable, “emerged victorious from quite an adventure, enlightened but intact.” His eyes twinkle with a mischievous glint.
“As for the rest,” he continues, “let’s just say that Pachil hides more secrets than the stars in Wataq Sami. It will be quite a journey, as their locations are extremely far, spanning every corner of Pachil. Just imagine the stories that await us, and the truths we’ll discover!”
I roll my eyes at his storyteller theatrics. “Let’s describe the destinations in simple terms, shall we?”
“You’re no fun,” he mutters.
When he’s done pouting, he resumes his explanation. “The first of the previously unknown destinations,” he displays a pot with a large swath of sage green, surrounded by greenish blue, “is on the island of Sanqo. This one was the most obvious, seeing as it’s nearly surrounded by water, which I assume is represented by the blue.”
“How astute,” I tease. Upachu doesn’t take kindly to my ridiculing.
“Anyway,” he continues, “the mark appears to be at the northernmost tip of the island—a fair distance away from their capital, Haqiliqa.”
“Other than tales of their ancient history, there is not much I know about the Sanqo,” I confess. “Is this location perilous? Are the people accepting of outsiders?”
Upachu winces. “Considering they’ve been outcast by the other factions of Pachil, including the Qantua, I don’t know how pleasant they’ll be if we march up to the destination without being diplomatic first, at least. I’d fathom a guess, the people probably pose more of a problem than the land itself.”
“When I was briefly in Qapauma, I recall Achutli discussing with his advisors whether or not to work with the Sanqo and make their fleets part of the ruler’s navy,” I say. “Perhaps diplomatic treaties have been established by now?”
“It’s difficult to say, but at the very least, the Sanqo will be easier to work with than the people at the next location.” Upachu returns the first pot and grabs another. This one has deep green covering nearly the entire surface, save for one tiny patch. There, a blue ring surrounds a lighter green circle, upon which another ‘X’ is marked.
“Here, the destination is supposedly in the jungles of Auilqa,” Upachu continues. “A treacherous trek through the terrifying territory of the savage Auilqa. They won’t be happy to see any outsiders upon their land, so if we’re going to embark on a journey here, we’ll need to tread carefully.”
My familiarity with the Auilqa is only through what has been told to me over campfires during the War of Liberation. Many of the warriors with whom I served would speak of their encounters with these people, their daring adventures and how they narrowly escaped with their lives. While I’m sure majority of what was said was fabricated, there is likely some truth to the tales. The consistent thread with all of the stories was that the Auilqa are a savage people with savage traditions, customs, and rituals. Barring the one member of their clan, Inqil—who would go on to join the Eleven—and her supporters, they were the only faction who offered no aid to the resistance against the Timuaq. They are an isolated people, and their loyalties are only to themselves, even willing to sacrifice their own people to appease the gods they worship. So it’s only left to the imagination as to what they would do to an outsider.
Upachu has been speaking the entire time I’ve been lost in thought. So I quickly refocus on his explanation. “Sitqa at the Great Library—good friend, very knowledgable—said the blue ring is a lagoon that surrounds their sacred Tomb of Inqil, dedicated to their representative of the Eleven. She’s worshipped due to the amazing capabilities she possessed, rumored to have healed the dying and kept the heathens out of their lands by casting a powerful ward over their jungles. The waters that surround the tomb are supposedly crafted by Iolatl, the water goddess who provided the ethereal springs of Wichanaqta. I learned all of this from the first set of papyrus we uncovered.”
He’s overjoyed in this wisdom he’s discovered and imparted upon me. I can see he wants to explain his newly-gained knowledge, teetering on the verge of gloating, but barely restrains himself. I quickly respond before he bursts at the seams.
“We must discuss the papyrus in a moment,” I say. “But before we do, what is the third location?”
“Ah, the final location,” he says, exchanging pots to hold the one being discussed, “is in the mountains of Qiapu.” He regards the clay pot, turning it around and around to showcase the gray surface with jagged, steep peaks painted on it. It reminds me of the symbol I frequently saw during my efforts to navigate the enchanted forest, the markings that led me to understand the glyph for ‘Mountain’.
“At the Great Cairn lies the destination within their territory.” He points to a line of rocks that, had it not been for the placement of his finger, would’ve gone completely unnoticed by a generalized glance of the tower that’s been painted on. “The burial mounds have been maintained for generations upon generations. Although, apparently, remains of the civilians massacred by the Timuaq during their rule have never been discovered, denying them a proper burial. Very sad.”
“So,” I begin pacing about his cramped bedroom, “we have our three destinations: Sanqo, Auilqa, and Qiapu.”
“Quite the exotic list of locations,” he says, watching me walk in circles.
I contemplate aloud. “Each one presents its challenges, and they all require lengthy travel to reach. To get to Sanqo, it would require traveling through Tapeu, or taking a long route through Aimue to be clear of the Tapeu territory. Not to mention finding a water craft to transport us over the Haqu Suquinoq. With the Eye in the Flame in the territories being dealt with by Inuxeq, it may be best if we avoid that region for now.
“Qiapu is on the far end of the continent—nearly the exact opposite side of the land to Qantua. And to get there–“
“We either travel through Tapeu, or we must go through Auilqa,” Upachu finishes my thought once more. “Tapeu is certainly in the way of a lot of destinations.”
“So, Auilqa shall be first, then Qiapu,” I determine.
“Get the most troublesome location out of the way,” Upachu says with a smirk. As we both know, none of these locations are any less troublesome than the others, especially when it comes to the factions’ relationship with the Qantua. Or any outsider, for that matter.
Aside from the people inhabiting the land, the jungles of Auilqa themselves will offer no respite. Only a harsh people can survive a harsh environment, and the Auilqa are certainly that, according to legend. But the trek to the tomb will offer its own challenges. What will we face when we arrive at a sacred tomb dedicated to the Auilqa’s most valued demigod and member of the Eleven? If this contains anything like the previously encountered location, I am a bit pessimistic about what awaits us there. Between the powerful Inqil and her supposed abilities of interacting with nature, and the water goddess and mother of all creation, Iolatl, I am not encouraged by the trials we are likely to face.
With the destination in mind, I turn my attention away from thinking at length at the potential dangers of Auilqa. “What insights did you gather from the papyrus?”
“Well,” Upachu says with a chuckle of bemusement and disbelief, “all the stories we’ve heard about the Eleven are false.”
I’m stunned and bewildered by this remark. I struggle to even formulate a request to explain himself. Fortunately for me, he needs no coaxing to continue. “Would you believe me if I told you there were actually twelve members?”
This doesn’t help cure my befuddlement at all. “Hold on,” I tell him, and prepare to run through all the members of the Eleven that existed, that are worshipped throughout Pachil. “We have Entilqan, my sister and the member of the Qantua. There’s Sualset of the Atima, Inqil of the Auilqa–“
“Obviously,” he says with the roll of his eyes. Nevertheless, I continue, despite his disruption.
“Iptanqa, the demigod of the Tapeu–“
“Who has replaced all their gods and is the sole deity worshipped by them now, might I add,” Upachu interjects.
“Tuqahabi of the Tuatiu,” I carry on listing the names, “who could cloak his companions in shadow to elude the surveillance of the Timuaq. Iaqa of the Sanqo, who utilized the oceans and its currents. Sochumep of the Aimue, the healer. Tamaqotil of the Qiapu, the warrior who could move mountains and generate the power of quakes.”
“You’re almost there,” Upachu encourages, spinning his hand in a cycle to urge me to hurry up.
“Achpula of the Achope,” I name, “who they value so greatly they renamed their faction in his honor. Qixana of the Ulxa, who was responsible for resurrecting the dead.”
My mind suddenly becomes blank. I recount the names on my fingers, and I realize I’ve only listed ten. Who is the other member? And, apparently, there’s one more unnamed. Then, it hits me like rocks tumbling down a landslide.
“The extinct faction,” I recall. “Mahuincha. And their champion, Iuqamaq. I had nearly forgotten! They were peaceful farmers, like the Aimue. Their lands were the plains to the south of Qiapu, which stretched beneath the Ulxa territory, as well. Separated by mountains. Then the Timuaq destroyed their lands, decimating their people, wiping them from existence.”
Upachu wears a knowing grin, stopping my explanation abruptly. “What do you know that I don’t?” I ask.
“You will have to bear with me, as I can’t decipher all of the words precisely,” he begins, hedging his Pachil-shattering news, “but from what I’ve been able to ascertain, there was a twelfth member who clashed with the others. I’ve determined that this papyrus not only discusses the journey of the Eleven, but also discusses the dynamic and internal struggles within the group! It’s completely revealing and illuminating!”
“You’ve been able to figure out the glyphs? How?” I ask, baffled by the news, but curious how Upachu was able to learn what was being marked on these sheets of papyrus.
“I started with the words I recalled from Wichanaqta, at the palace. There was a codex, of sorts, some kind of diagram that helped me discover the meaning behind certain glyphs. Then, using context clues, I was able to determine the meaning of other words and parse together most of the message. I can’t speak on them with complete certainty, but I’m able to understand most of it.”
I’m impressed, but not surprised, by Upachu’s ability to solve this perplexing riddle. I was able to translate a number of words, but Upachu is well studied. His mind works in a way that can find connections I never could see. My father always had me paired with Upachu in my youth, hoping some of his logical reasoning would rub off on me. Unfortunately, I only obtained a minuscule understanding of his thought process.
“So these glyphs, this papyrus,” I start, at a near loss for words at the complexities of translating these figures and symbols. “It sounds as if they tell a story of some kind. Like our quipus. Except they don’t require the reader to distinguish the meaning; the glyphs themselves tell you more directly what they mean.”
“Precisely!” Upachu exclaims. “And it’s these glyphs that indicate there was trouble within the Eleven. Something to do with a power struggle between the mark maker and one of the members. But see these marks here? There are several like these—a combination of lines and dots. I’ve been able to deduce these represent numbers, a way to count, but without complicated knots. Each dot is one, each horizontal line is five, and each oval is twenty. And the combination that is most prominent is two dots above two lines.”
“Twelve,” I say, astonished. Upachu nods in affirmation.
“What was the cause of the power struggle?” I ask.
“It had something to do with the use of their powers, of their abilities,” he responds. “A disagreement with how their abilities are being used, or what they’re being used for… It became unclear in a few places; I’ll need a little more time to translate them. But the mark maker seemed do view the opposition as a hawk-like warmonger—they describe them as being hungry for taking the fight to those deemed inferior. To think, a member of the Eleven… or ‘Twelve’, I suppose… being so confrontational. It really rattles all preconceived perceptions.”
It’s troubling to discover the revered saviors of Pachil were not as unified as the legends suggest. Even more so, that there’s an unnamed twelfth member. Who is this person? And what happened to them? If I reunite with Entilqan in my dreams, I must ask her what took place among them.
“Can you decipher the glyphs retrieved from the enchanted forest in Qantua, Upachu?”
“It will take me some time to discern these glyphs,” he says, “but having heard the story of your escapades, I’d say you’re well on your way to learning their meaning, too.” He smiles like a proud father, and I admit to myself that I feel honored by this expression.
“Perhaps, before we embark to Auilqa, you can teach me what you know, of the glyphs,” I say. “I may not be as quick a study as you, and it may require some time, but if I can accompany you as you read the papyrus, we could expand the knowledge between us.”
“In case anything happens,” he says a bit somberly. Feeling defensive, I stammer trying to explain what I mean. But before I can, Upachu holds up a hand, halting my effort.
“Teqosa, you don’t need to explain yourself. I understand. I’m an old, withered man who nearly ventured to the ethereal plane. It’s a wise call to have more than just one of us capable of reading these glyphs. Plus, that means we expand our chances of translating these papyrus quicker. More eyes, more opportunities to see their meaning from more perspectives.” He slowly stands up to meet me, letting out a slight groan in the process, and pats my shoulder. “It’s alright, my boy. I take no offense, I assure you. Your intentions are noble.”
Despite his reassurances, I still feel uncomfortable in the implications of my proposed plan. He is aging, that much is visibly clear, but there’s a part of me—perhaps an immature part—that disregards the possibility. Before the assassin’s assault, he was energetic and spirited, acting much younger than his age. Part of me is in complete denial that his age means he’s closer to death.
“Besides,” Upachu says, lowering himself back onto the bedroll, “it’ll be nice to not have the burden of translating all these glyphs by myself. It’s causing me a headache! So it’ll be grand to have you actually be useful in completing our quest, for once.”
If this were said by anyone else, I’d have punched him square in the jaw for making such a statement. Being Upachu, however, I can only shake my head and chuckle at his sarcastic remark. He’s had numerous harvests to perfect the art of getting under my skin.
I change the course of the discussion, not allowing him any further teasing at my expense. “How shall we approach Auilqa? We mentioned needing to travel across the Haqu Minsa, requiring a vessel to travel over that vast sea. What else will we need to be prepared for?”
“I have connections in Iaqutaq, the Qantua port city. Merchants travel between there and the Achope capital, Chopaqte, frequently. We can hail a small vessel at the trading post traveling to Iaqutaq, then hitch a ride with traders making their way to Chopaqte. That’s the simple part.
“Once we get into Auilqa, however…” Upachu dabs his moist brow with the sleeve of his robe. “Most of the Auilqa jungles are uncharted, known only by the people who live within them. And they mostly only exist in tiny villages. Their capital, Qasiunqa, is along the Maiu Atiniuq far to the south of their lands, which divides their territory from the Ulxa and Qiapu. It’s the only known city of theirs, and that’s only because Inqil discussed it during her time with the Eleven. Or Twelve. What do I call them now, knowing there was an additional member?”
“So there is no known path to get to the Tomb of Inqil,” I note. “How will we be able to find it?”
“According to Sitqa, the Auilqa mark trees to indicate locations of importance, although he couldn’t indicate which marking stands for the tomb. Their symbols won’t mean much to us initially, so we’ll need a way to distinguish the markings. Perhaps there’s someone in Chopaqte who could help us navigate the land, or at least direct us to the tomb.”
“I’d feel uncomfortable making anyone else aware of the purpose of our journey,” I state. “We’ll need to use discretion the moment we leave your home.”
Upachu agrees. “The opportunity will present itself. Worst case, we head directly south and hope for the best!”
I frown. Even though I know he’s joking, it emphasizes that we don’t have a clear plan formulated just yet. I’ll need to sleep on it and determine how we’ll successfully traverse the dense jungles without giving away the reason we’re there. And to do so discreetly.
“And for safe keeping…” Upachu fishes out the amulet and hands the gold chain to me. “You should possess this. You can best protect it from harm, should anyone seek it out.”
It’s a fair assessment, and while I’m uncomfortable being in possession of such an item, I know it must be done. It’s likely the Eye in the Flame are seeking these valued treasures. They could send the assassin out to attack us once again. And though I’m uncertain what importance the amulet serves, I don’t want to find out the hard way.
I maneuver the gold chain over my head, then around my neck. The bright blue stone with gold veins spidering throughout hangs over my chest, standing out slightly among the other gold necklaces I wear over my black tunic. There isn’t much light entering this room, yet the gemstone is radiant with an otherworldly glow. It may only be decorative, but it’s illuminated spectacularly.
Upachu unleashes an enormous yawn. Although we’ve been able to discuss much in what feels like a brief amount of time, it’s evident that the intense discussions have not only excited Upachu, but likely exhausted him in the process, as well. His enthusiasm makes it easy for me to forget he’s still recovering from severe injuries.
Though he puts up a small, half-hearted protest, I insist he rests. As he does, I plan on gathering equipment and supplies for the next leg of our journey. It will be much lengthier than the first, and more treacherous, so we’ll need to be as prepared as we can. To encourage him to sleep even for a small amount of time, I mention going over the papyrus together when he awakens. He is pleased by this notion, smiling warmly as he starts to drift off to sleep.
“Teqosa,” he says faintly. “I want to thank you for including me in your journey. For not forgetting about me after your father died. I know I can be a lot to handle, and I’m not as spry as I once was—no, no, let me finish. I just want to say… The Great Library can be a solitary, lonely place sometimes. So… thank you.”
I struggle to find the words with which to respond. By the time I can think of something, anything, worth saying, Upachu has quickly fallen into a deep sleep. I’m left to pat his folded hands that rest gently upon his stomach. I vow to return swiftly after gathering the supplies, nodding to the guards posted at his door on my way out.
I’ve already traveled much for this quest. Now, we must travel even further—the farthest I’ve had to go since the war, and it’s even further still. Having lived in the higher elevations of Qantua, my curiosity is piqued about venturing through dense and humid jungles. I also haven’t interacted with the Achope in many harvests. Will they assist us with our journey? What should we expect to face when dealing with their kind? All I recall of them is their shrewd dealings with business and trade. Can we manage to work with them to achieve our goals?
Likewise, I can only speculate what awaits us when, or if, we eventually arrive in Auilqa. What creatures or challenges lurk in the jungles? Will the residents greet us indifferently or with hostility? How will we handle the conflict or confrontation? And this is all before we reach the Tomb of Inqil. What are we to expect if we make it to the lagoon that houses the sacred place?
And then, there’s the ever-present Eye of the Flame, the threat that looms over everything we do, over every place we go. Will they continue to track us down, continue to hunt us until they get what they’re after? Will we encounter the assassin once more? If so, how will I fare, considering I only survived due to the chance presence of the Tuatiu warrior, Inuxeq? Will our discoveries help us defeat this evil that seeks to destroy every faction in Pachil?
And among our discoveries, learning that there was a twelfth member of the saviors of Pachil. Who was this person? What conflict were they involved in pertaining to the maker of the glyphs? Does Entilqan know of the person? What can she tell me about them, about the glyphs, and about the amulet? I pray to all the gods that ever roamed the world to allow me the slumber so that I can confront Entilqan about all of this.
I grow exhausted from contemplating everything. Yet there is no time for rest. I must cast all this aside for the time being, collect our supplies, and prepare for the journey ahead. So much relies on discovering the truth about the amulet, the glyphs, the Eye in the Flame. So much is at stake. I can’t be certain any of this will shed light on the many mysteries of our world, or will help fight to protect Pachil from those that wish to doom it. But I must try.
With his eyes narrowed, Upachu alternates his gaze between the papyrus and the amulet. His face is practically pressed against them, and he mutters unintelligibly as he meticulously studies the glyphs on the sheets from the retrieved lumuli chest. Resting along the wall, the remaining clay pots are placed close by, some laying on their sides. The lapis lazuli necklace on the plain gold chain sways gently as it dangles from his wrinkled, weathered hand, catching the soft morning light to illuminate a brilliant blue.
“The handwriting is the same,” Upachu observes. “The strokes, the way the brush flowed on the papyrus… Definitely made by the same person.”
He sits up on his bedroll, still bundled in an assortment of alpaca wool blankets woven in red, blue, and brown patterns. Color has returned to his cheeks, and he looks his usual spirited self. For a brief moment earlier in the morning, he got up to make some herbal tea for us, as well as the two guards posted outside the door of his home, before succumbing to exhaustion and returning to his room. Though he can only act in short bursts of movement, it’s a relief to see him moving about once again.
“Who do you think is the ‘symbol weaver’?” I ask, uncertain how to address the person responsible for making these glyphs.
“It’s difficult to say,” he responds, stroking his chin as the gold chain clatters about with the movement while still clutching the papyrus in his other hand. “The maker of these marks could be Atima, considering where we discovered the glyphs initially. But the question remains: how many more of these chests exist?”
“And do they all contain amulets?” I add. “This one stored the lapis lazuli amulet, but did the other one that we found at the Temple of the Titans possess one, as well? If so–“
“Did Qaschiqe discover it and hand it to Anqatil?” Upachu finishes my troubling thought. “Or Iquna—has that man been accounted for? He was the suspicious person lurking around the temple. Who was that man?”
I had nearly forgotten that name; it has been so long, and the journey so long, as well. Thoughts surge through me like a river in flood. Could this Iquna be a cultist of the Eye in the Flame? Did we defeat him there, or does he still live? If alive, and due to the proximity between Hilaqta and the Temple of the Titans, could he be the one who sent the assassin after us? What did that one zealot say with his dying breaths? ”The champions were shown the way through the glyphs.” And a mention of a ‘Sunfire’, surely their leader. Do these glyphs lead to more amulets?
“We never should have allowed Qaschiqe to live,” I grumble. “He’s the source to much of these troubles.”
“And my understanding is, he hasn’t returned to the Great Library since that fateful day,” Upachu says, shaking his head in disappointment. “You think you know somebody…”
Rage ignites within me like a racing wildfire through my veins. But I do my best to force my anger to subside, choosing instead to focus on what we can solve. “What did you discover regarding the clay pots from Wichanaqta?”
A grin spans widely on Upachu’s face. “When I was well-rested enough, I conversed with several keepers at the Great Library who are well traveled around Pachil. It was difficult to abstractly convey the images on the pots without revealing such mystical items were in our possession. However, a few were surprisingly able to decipher what I was describing. Given the rough portrayal of the landmarks and–“
“Out of curiosity,” I interrupt to ask, “what did you tell them you were seeking with these images?”
He tilts his head side to side, his eyes darting about like a child caught in the act of committing trouble. “Well, I may have suggested that I was undertaking a grand project,” Upachu begins with a sheepish grin. “I told them I intended to paint the Pachil landscape as a mural on the inner walls of the Great Library. I said I wanted to capture the essence of all the distinct, rich—don’t you dare laugh—locations across our great continent. It was, after all, for the sake of ‘artistic and cultural preservation’.”
I raise an eyebrow as a smirk threatens to escape the corners of my mouth. “And they believed that? You, the sudden artist and cultural preservationist?”
“You’d be surprised what people will do for the sake of art,” he shrugs. “Anyway, Ithought it was clever! Besides, it got them talking about the geographical features, the legends tied to each place… It was a great cover story!”
I shake my head in disbelief, but I manage a chuckle, as I must admit: it’s a sharp plan. And although I’m still furious at the development involving Qaschiqe, Upachu’s recounting has lifted my spirits ever so slightly.
“Alright, then, what were you able to learn, esteemed expert of art?”
Upachu beams with pride. “I know the four locations of each ‘X’ marked on the pots!”
“Do tell,” I encourage him, my intrigued self leans in. He scoots over to retrieve the pots, then holds each one up as he explains the painted markings.
“So, you already know of the first destination, seeing as you,” he bobs his head about as he seeks the words to describe the indescribable, “emerged victorious from quite an adventure, enlightened but intact.” His eyes twinkle with a mischievous glint.
“As for the rest,” he continues, “let’s just say that Pachil hides more secrets than the stars in Wataq Sami. It will be quite a journey, as their locations are extremely far, spanning every corner of Pachil. Just imagine the stories that await us, and the truths we’ll discover!”
I roll my eyes at his storyteller theatrics. “Let’s describe the destinations in simple terms, shall we?”
“You’re no fun,” he mutters.
When he’s done pouting, he resumes his explanation. “The first of the previously unknown destinations,” he displays a pot with a large swath of sage green, surrounded by greenish blue, “is on the island of Sanqo. This one was the most obvious, seeing as it’s nearly surrounded by water, which I assume is represented by the blue.”
“How astute,” I tease. Upachu doesn’t take kindly to my ridiculing.
“Anyway,” he continues, “the mark appears to be at the northernmost tip of the island—a fair distance away from their capital, Haqiliqa.”
“Other than tales of their ancient history, there is not much I know about the Sanqo,” I confess. “Is this location perilous? Are the people accepting of outsiders?”
Upachu winces. “Considering they’ve been outcast by the other factions of Pachil, including the Qantua, I don’t know how pleasant they’ll be if we march up to the destination without being diplomatic first, at least. I’d fathom a guess, the people probably pose more of a problem than the land itself.”
“When I was briefly in Qapauma, I recall Achutli discussing with his advisors whether or not to work with the Sanqo and make their fleets part of the ruler’s navy,” I say. “Perhaps diplomatic treaties have been established by now?”
“It’s difficult to say, but at the very least, the Sanqo will be easier to work with than the people at the next location.” Upachu returns the first pot and grabs another. This one has deep green covering nearly the entire surface, save for one tiny patch. There, a blue ring surrounds a lighter green circle, upon which another ‘X’ is marked.
“Here, the destination is supposedly in the jungles of Auilqa,” Upachu continues. “A treacherous trek through the terrifying territory of the savage Auilqa. They won’t be happy to see any outsiders upon their land, so if we’re going to embark on a journey here, we’ll need to tread carefully.”
My familiarity with the Auilqa is only through what has been told to me over campfires during the War of Liberation. Many of the warriors with whom I served would speak of their encounters with these people, their daring adventures and how they narrowly escaped with their lives. While I’m sure majority of what was said was fabricated, there is likely some truth to the tales. The consistent thread with all of the stories was that the Auilqa are a savage people with savage traditions, customs, and rituals. Barring the one member of their clan, Inqil—who would go on to join the Eleven—and her supporters, they were the only faction who offered no aid to the resistance against the Timuaq. They are an isolated people, and their loyalties are only to themselves, even willing to sacrifice their own people to appease the gods they worship. So it’s only left to the imagination as to what they would do to an outsider.
Upachu has been speaking the entire time I’ve been lost in thought. So I quickly refocus on his explanation. “Sitqa at the Great Library—good friend, very knowledgable—said the blue ring is a lagoon that surrounds their sacred Tomb of Inqil, dedicated to their representative of the Eleven. She’s worshipped due to the amazing capabilities she possessed, rumored to have healed the dying and kept the heathens out of their lands by casting a powerful ward over their jungles. The waters that surround the tomb are supposedly crafted by Iolatl, the water goddess who provided the ethereal springs of Wichanaqta. I learned all of this from the first set of papyrus we uncovered.”
He’s overjoyed in this wisdom he’s discovered and imparted upon me. I can see he wants to explain his newly-gained knowledge, teetering on the verge of gloating, but barely restrains himself. I quickly respond before he bursts at the seams.
“We must discuss the papyrus in a moment,” I say. “But before we do, what is the third location?”
“Ah, the final location,” he says, exchanging pots to hold the one being discussed, “is in the mountains of Qiapu.” He regards the clay pot, turning it around and around to showcase the gray surface with jagged, steep peaks painted on it. It reminds me of the symbol I frequently saw during my efforts to navigate the enchanted forest, the markings that led me to understand the glyph for ‘Mountain’.
“At the Great Cairn lies the destination within their territory.” He points to a line of rocks that, had it not been for the placement of his finger, would’ve gone completely unnoticed by a generalized glance of the tower that’s been painted on. “The burial mounds have been maintained for generations upon generations. Although, apparently, remains of the civilians massacred by the Timuaq during their rule have never been discovered, denying them a proper burial. Very sad.”
“So,” I begin pacing about his cramped bedroom, “we have our three destinations: Sanqo, Auilqa, and Qiapu.”
“Quite the exotic list of locations,” he says, watching me walk in circles.
I contemplate aloud. “Each one presents its challenges, and they all require lengthy travel to reach. To get to Sanqo, it would require traveling through Tapeu, or taking a long route through Aimue to be clear of the Tapeu territory. Not to mention finding a water craft to transport us over the Haqu Suquinoq. With the Eye in the Flame in the territories being dealt with by Inuxeq, it may be best if we avoid that region for now.
“Qiapu is on the far end of the continent—nearly the exact opposite side of the land to Qantua. And to get there–“
“We either travel through Tapeu, or we must go through Auilqa,” Upachu finishes my thought once more. “Tapeu is certainly in the way of a lot of destinations.”
“So, Auilqa shall be first, then Qiapu,” I determine.
“Get the most troublesome location out of the way,” Upachu says with a smirk. As we both know, none of these locations are any less troublesome than the others, especially when it comes to the factions’ relationship with the Qantua. Or any outsider, for that matter.
Aside from the people inhabiting the land, the jungles of Auilqa themselves will offer no respite. Only a harsh people can survive a harsh environment, and the Auilqa are certainly that, according to legend. But the trek to the tomb will offer its own challenges. What will we face when we arrive at a sacred tomb dedicated to the Auilqa’s most valued demigod and member of the Eleven? If this contains anything like the previously encountered location, I am a bit pessimistic about what awaits us there. Between the powerful Inqil and her supposed abilities of interacting with nature, and the water goddess and mother of all creation, Iolatl, I am not encouraged by the trials we are likely to face.
With the destination in mind, I turn my attention away from thinking at length at the potential dangers of Auilqa. “What insights did you gather from the papyrus?”
“Well,” Upachu says with a chuckle of bemusement and disbelief, “all the stories we’ve heard about the Eleven are false.”
I’m stunned and bewildered by this remark. I struggle to even formulate a request to explain himself. Fortunately for me, he needs no coaxing to continue. “Would you believe me if I told you there were actually twelve members?”
This doesn’t help cure my befuddlement at all. “Hold on,” I tell him, and prepare to run through all the members of the Eleven that existed, that are worshipped throughout Pachil. “We have Entilqan, my sister and the member of the Qantua. There’s Sualset of the Atima, Inqil of the Auilqa–“
“Obviously,” he says with the roll of his eyes. Nevertheless, I continue, despite his disruption.
“Iptanqa, the demigod of the Tapeu–“
“Who has replaced all their gods and is the sole deity worshipped by them now, might I add,” Upachu interjects.
“Tuqahabi of the Tuatiu,” I carry on listing the names, “who could cloak his companions in shadow to elude the surveillance of the Timuaq. Iaqa of the Sanqo, who utilized the oceans and its currents. Sochumep of the Aimue, the healer. Tamaqotil of the Qiapu, the warrior who could move mountains and generate the power of quakes.”
“You’re almost there,” Upachu encourages, spinning his hand in a cycle to urge me to hurry up.
“Achpula of the Achope,” I name, “who they value so greatly they renamed their faction in his honor. Qixana of the Ulxa, who was responsible for resurrecting the dead.”
My mind suddenly becomes blank. I recount the names on my fingers, and I realize I’ve only listed ten. Who is the other member? And, apparently, there’s one more unnamed. Then, it hits me like rocks tumbling down a landslide.
“The extinct faction,” I recall. “Mahuincha. And their champion, Iuqamaq. I had nearly forgotten! They were peaceful farmers, like the Aimue. Their lands were the plains to the south of Qiapu, which stretched beneath the Ulxa territory, as well. Separated by mountains. Then the Timuaq destroyed their lands, decimating their people, wiping them from existence.”
Upachu wears a knowing grin, stopping my explanation abruptly. “What do you know that I don’t?” I ask.
“You will have to bear with me, as I can’t decipher all of the words precisely,” he begins, hedging his Pachil-shattering news, “but from what I’ve been able to ascertain, there was a twelfth member who clashed with the others. I’ve determined that this papyrus not only discusses the journey of the Eleven, but also discusses the dynamic and internal struggles within the group! It’s completely revealing and illuminating!”
“You’ve been able to figure out the glyphs? How?” I ask, baffled by the news, but curious how Upachu was able to learn what was being marked on these sheets of papyrus.
“I started with the words I recalled from Wichanaqta, at the palace. There was a codex, of sorts, some kind of diagram that helped me discover the meaning behind certain glyphs. Then, using context clues, I was able to determine the meaning of other words and parse together most of the message. I can’t speak on them with complete certainty, but I’m able to understand most of it.”
I’m impressed, but not surprised, by Upachu’s ability to solve this perplexing riddle. I was able to translate a number of words, but Upachu is well studied. His mind works in a way that can find connections I never could see. My father always had me paired with Upachu in my youth, hoping some of his logical reasoning would rub off on me. Unfortunately, I only obtained a minuscule understanding of his thought process.
“So these glyphs, this papyrus,” I start, at a near loss for words at the complexities of translating these figures and symbols. “It sounds as if they tell a story of some kind. Like our quipus. Except they don’t require the reader to distinguish the meaning; the glyphs themselves tell you more directly what they mean.”
“Precisely!” Upachu exclaims. “And it’s these glyphs that indicate there was trouble within the Eleven. Something to do with a power struggle between the mark maker and one of the members. But see these marks here? There are several like these—a combination of lines and dots. I’ve been able to deduce these represent numbers, a way to count, but without complicated knots. Each dot is one, each horizontal line is five, and each oval is twenty. And the combination that is most prominent is two dots above two lines.”
“Twelve,” I say, astonished. Upachu nods in affirmation.
“What was the cause of the power struggle?” I ask.
“It had something to do with the use of their powers, of their abilities,” he responds. “A disagreement with how their abilities are being used, or what they’re being used for… It became unclear in a few places; I’ll need a little more time to translate them. But the mark maker seemed do view the opposition as a hawk-like warmonger—they describe them as being hungry for taking the fight to those deemed inferior. To think, a member of the Eleven… or ‘Twelve’, I suppose… being so confrontational. It really rattles all preconceived perceptions.”
It’s troubling to discover the revered saviors of Pachil were not as unified as the legends suggest. Even more so, that there’s an unnamed twelfth member. Who is this person? And what happened to them? If I reunite with Entilqan in my dreams, I must ask her what took place among them.
“Can you decipher the glyphs retrieved from the enchanted forest in Qantua, Upachu?”
“It will take me some time to discern these glyphs,” he says, “but having heard the story of your escapades, I’d say you’re well on your way to learning their meaning, too.” He smiles like a proud father, and I admit to myself that I feel honored by this expression.
“Perhaps, before we embark to Auilqa, you can teach me what you know, of the glyphs,” I say. “I may not be as quick a study as you, and it may require some time, but if I can accompany you as you read the papyrus, we could expand the knowledge between us.”
“In case anything happens,” he says a bit somberly. Feeling defensive, I stammer trying to explain what I mean. But before I can, Upachu holds up a hand, halting my effort.
“Teqosa, you don’t need to explain yourself. I understand. I’m an old, withered man who nearly ventured to the ethereal plane. It’s a wise call to have more than just one of us capable of reading these glyphs. Plus, that means we expand our chances of translating these papyrus quicker. More eyes, more opportunities to see their meaning from more perspectives.” He slowly stands up to meet me, letting out a slight groan in the process, and pats my shoulder. “It’s alright, my boy. I take no offense, I assure you. Your intentions are noble.”
Despite his reassurances, I still feel uncomfortable in the implications of my proposed plan. He is aging, that much is visibly clear, but there’s a part of me—perhaps an immature part—that disregards the possibility. Before the assassin’s assault, he was energetic and spirited, acting much younger than his age. Part of me is in complete denial that his age means he’s closer to death.
“Besides,” Upachu says, lowering himself back onto the bedroll, “it’ll be nice to not have the burden of translating all these glyphs by myself. It’s causing me a headache! So it’ll be grand to have you actually be useful in completing our quest, for once.”
If this were said by anyone else, I’d have punched him square in the jaw for making such a statement. Being Upachu, however, I can only shake my head and chuckle at his sarcastic remark. He’s had numerous harvests to perfect the art of getting under my skin.
I change the course of the discussion, not allowing him any further teasing at my expense. “How shall we approach Auilqa? We mentioned needing to travel across the Haqu Minsa, requiring a vessel to travel over that vast sea. What else will we need to be prepared for?”
“I have connections in Iaqutaq, the Qantua port city. Merchants travel between there and the Achope capital, Chopaqte, frequently. We can hail a small vessel at the trading post traveling to Iaqutaq, then hitch a ride with traders making their way to Chopaqte. That’s the simple part.
“Once we get into Auilqa, however…” Upachu dabs his moist brow with the sleeve of his robe. “Most of the Auilqa jungles are uncharted, known only by the people who live within them. And they mostly only exist in tiny villages. Their capital, Qasiunqa, is along the Maiu Atiniuq far to the south of their lands, which divides their territory from the Ulxa and Qiapu. It’s the only known city of theirs, and that’s only because Inqil discussed it during her time with the Eleven. Or Twelve. What do I call them now, knowing there was an additional member?”
“So there is no known path to get to the Tomb of Inqil,” I note. “How will we be able to find it?”
“According to Sitqa, the Auilqa mark trees to indicate locations of importance, although he couldn’t indicate which marking stands for the tomb. Their symbols won’t mean much to us initially, so we’ll need a way to distinguish the markings. Perhaps there’s someone in Chopaqte who could help us navigate the land, or at least direct us to the tomb.”
“I’d feel uncomfortable making anyone else aware of the purpose of our journey,” I state. “We’ll need to use discretion the moment we leave your home.”
Upachu agrees. “The opportunity will present itself. Worst case, we head directly south and hope for the best!”
I frown. Even though I know he’s joking, it emphasizes that we don’t have a clear plan formulated just yet. I’ll need to sleep on it and determine how we’ll successfully traverse the dense jungles without giving away the reason we’re there. And to do so discreetly.
“And for safe keeping…” Upachu fishes out the amulet and hands the gold chain to me. “You should possess this. You can best protect it from harm, should anyone seek it out.”
It’s a fair assessment, and while I’m uncomfortable being in possession of such an item, I know it must be done. It’s likely the Eye in the Flame are seeking these valued treasures. They could send the assassin out to attack us once again. And though I’m uncertain what importance the amulet serves, I don’t want to find out the hard way.
I maneuver the gold chain over my head, then around my neck. The bright blue stone with gold veins spidering throughout hangs over my chest, standing out slightly among the other gold necklaces I wear over my black tunic. There isn’t much light entering this room, yet the gemstone is radiant with an otherworldly glow. It may only be decorative, but it’s illuminated spectacularly.
Upachu unleashes an enormous yawn. Although we’ve been able to discuss much in what feels like a brief amount of time, it’s evident that the intense discussions have not only excited Upachu, but likely exhausted him in the process, as well. His enthusiasm makes it easy for me to forget he’s still recovering from severe injuries.
Though he puts up a small, half-hearted protest, I insist he rests. As he does, I plan on gathering equipment and supplies for the next leg of our journey. It will be much lengthier than the first, and more treacherous, so we’ll need to be as prepared as we can. To encourage him to sleep even for a small amount of time, I mention going over the papyrus together when he awakens. He is pleased by this notion, smiling warmly as he starts to drift off to sleep.
“Teqosa,” he says faintly. “I want to thank you for including me in your journey. For not forgetting about me after your father died. I know I can be a lot to handle, and I’m not as spry as I once was—no, no, let me finish. I just want to say… The Great Library can be a solitary, lonely place sometimes. So… thank you.”
I struggle to find the words with which to respond. By the time I can think of something, anything, worth saying, Upachu has quickly fallen into a deep sleep. I’m left to pat his folded hands that rest gently upon his stomach. I vow to return swiftly after gathering the supplies, nodding to the guards posted at his door on my way out.
I’ve already traveled much for this quest. Now, we must travel even further—the farthest I’ve had to go since the war, and it’s even further still. Having lived in the higher elevations of Qantua, my curiosity is piqued about venturing through dense and humid jungles. I also haven’t interacted with the Achope in many harvests. Will they assist us with our journey? What should we expect to face when dealing with their kind? All I recall of them is their shrewd dealings with business and trade. Can we manage to work with them to achieve our goals?
Likewise, I can only speculate what awaits us when, or if, we eventually arrive in Auilqa. What creatures or challenges lurk in the jungles? Will the residents greet us indifferently or with hostility? How will we handle the conflict or confrontation? And this is all before we reach the Tomb of Inqil. What are we to expect if we make it to the lagoon that houses the sacred place?
And then, there’s the ever-present Eye of the Flame, the threat that looms over everything we do, over every place we go. Will they continue to track us down, continue to hunt us until they get what they’re after? Will we encounter the assassin once more? If so, how will I fare, considering I only survived due to the chance presence of the Tuatiu warrior, Inuxeq? Will our discoveries help us defeat this evil that seeks to destroy every faction in Pachil?
And among our discoveries, learning that there was a twelfth member of the saviors of Pachil. Who was this person? What conflict were they involved in pertaining to the maker of the glyphs? Does Entilqan know of the person? What can she tell me about them, about the glyphs, and about the amulet? I pray to all the gods that ever roamed the world to allow me the slumber so that I can confront Entilqan about all of this.
I grow exhausted from contemplating everything. Yet there is no time for rest. I must cast all this aside for the time being, collect our supplies, and prepare for the journey ahead. So much relies on discovering the truth about the amulet, the glyphs, the Eye in the Flame. So much is at stake. I can’t be certain any of this will shed light on the many mysteries of our world, or will help fight to protect Pachil from those that wish to doom it. But I must try.
