109 — Inuxeq

I struggle to understand how anyone could live out here in these lands. The Tapeu plains north of Qapauma are sparse, with little-to-no means for establishing a sustainable settlement. There have been no trees, hardly any game to hunt, and the soil is dry and rocky, completely incapable of being farmed. The closest source of water of which I’m aware is the salty sea of the distant Haqu Suquinoq.

I’ve grown more and more to dislike these lands.

My first trek through these lands were fairly uneventful, save for the warped and scorched lands just south of Taqeipacha. After crossing the Maiu Antumalal, the landscape left much to be desired. The gnarled trees, the barren and lifeless soil, the dying, cloudless sky. I worried we were entering into someplace truly cursed by the Timuaq before they departed our world. Yet Sianchu was over the moon with arriving to this land. And after Taqeipacha, I could understand why, with the life gradually returning to this place.

It all made me miss Tuatiu, however. His palpable joy in returning home only made me miss my own. Now, seeing the displaced Atima establish their settlement far from their lands, I feel a pang of empathy and longing.

I remember the morning mists that blanket Iantana, the smell of wet soil and the calls of the birds greeting the dawn. My home is a place of endless green, where the towering and ancient trees create a canopy above that shields us from the harsh sun, and the jungle floor is filled with vibrant life.

Yet, somehow, there is a sprawling campsite at the base of the barren mountains, stretching as far as the eye can see. Approaching the collection of blue and beige tents among a small patch of trees is surreal. Even though Haesan spoke of such a place existing, I still had trouble believing it.

But now, seeing that it is, in fact, possible, I pause as I take in the unbelievable perseverance of the Atima and the people of Pachil. The camp is a symbol of endurance, but it also stands as a reminder of what has been lost and what must be regained. It is a place of temporary refuge, but it is not home. Home is where the heart finds its true belonging, where the spirit feels at peace. Yet even in these relatively harsh lands, and all that they have gone through, it gives me hope that the Atima will continue to thrive, no matter how the gods challenge them.

The villagers are tense and on high alert as we arrive. They halt all activity as they watch us draw closer to their home. A gathering of men in mismatched, worn leather armor eye us suspiciously, their hands gripping a jumble of poorly maintained weapons, though they’re ready for anything. I can’t blame them for their unease at our presence — these are displaced people making do with what they have. So to have an army marching toward them would be unsettling, to say the least.

Haesan hurriedly steps in front of the group of warriors, making sure her appearance is foremost. She raises both hands as she walks up to them, hoping to ease their fears. The men cast wary glances at the figure in a neutral-colored robe as she approaches them, drawing their weapons and crouching into a stance as if readying themselves to strike.

It’s only when one of the men guarding the entrance to this camp points out who she is that the rest begin to relax slightly. Noticing some of the Qantua have drawn their swords in response to the raised weapons of the Qelantu Loh guards, I quickly order our warriors to stand down. Tensions gradually ease, and I begin to hope this is a rare good sign.

I watch attentively as the man steps a few paces forward, grinning welcomingly. “You’re the companion of Chalqo!” he remarks. I find the name peculiar and amusing, but Haesan appears to recognize it, returning the warm smile.

“Indeed, through Lady Nuqasiq,” she says with a bow of her head. “Has he returned from Qapauma?”

The man frowns and shakes his head. “The musicians traveled there for Chasqa Quimi, but they have not yet returned. We’re concerned as to what this may mean. Do you bring news of their status? Based on your… entourage…” the man reluctantly waves his hand to point to the vast army behind me, “something terrible must have taken place there.”

Haesan grimaces. “Unfortunately, I arrive without any information regarding Chalqo and the musicians. There was an assault on the capital by a treacherous cult called the Eye in the Flame — “

“We know of those monsters,” another in the party of Atima guards states disapprovingly.

“I last spoke to Chalqo moments before the assault occurred,” Haesan continues. “I had hoped he and the others would have escaped and returned here. I’m saddened to discover that is not the case.”

The first man nods with a reassuring smile. “If I know anything, it’s that that old coot is resilient. He’s too stubborn to die, so I don’t doubt his return to Qelantu Loh is merely delayed.”

“I hope you’re right,” Haesan says, sounding not nearly as confident.

I step forward, marching up next to Haesan. “Unfortunately, we don’t have time to dwell on uncertainties,” I interrupt. “The Eye in the Flame won’t wait for us to find our friends. We need to focus on our mission and rally support. Every moment we spend in idle conversation is a moment lost.”

This draws wary glances from the Atima men. They stand stiff and uncomfortably, shifting their weight from foot to foot and avoiding eye contact. Are they really this taken aback by my bringing light to the matter at hand?

Haesan appears surprised initially, eyebrows raised slightly at my remark. However, to her credit, she quickly regains her composure and nods in agreement. “Inuxeq is correct,” she says firmly. “We need to secure allies and gather our strength — it is why we have traveled north and away from Qapauma. The Eye in the Flame remains a threat to all of Pachil, and we must be prepared.”

Though they’re still cautious, the Atima guards exchange long glances, hoping one of them will determine what they should do next. A few shrug, but we’re mostly met with silence. It tests my patience, fretting we’ve spent long enough on indecisions.

“We need to speak with your leaders,” I assert. “We need to unite our forces and prepare for what’s to come.”

Finally, the man nods, motioning for us to follow. “Come, we will take you to the elders. They will want to hear what you have to say about the Eye in the Flame.”

Haesan, a few Qantua leaders, and I follow the Atima guards, making our way through the camp. I instruct the other Qantua warriors to set up camp just beyond the limits of the village while we’re away, which they do without hesitation. Not needing any additional command, the well-trained warriors begin setting up perimeter patrols, ensuring all within the campsite will be protected from external threats. A few others pair off with some of the Atima to help hunt for food and gather resources. I feel a kinship with their likemindedness, searching for ways to be productive instead of loitering, reminding me much of the mentality of my people.

The blue tents are vast, spreading out among the golden plains of northern Tapeu territory. Many of the villagers watch our approach with suspicion and curiosity. Their outfits are simple tunics and huipil dresses, all wearing deep blue and silver — which, having never met an Atima before, I assume are the colors of their people. A couple of the ladies curtsey when Haesan passes through. Do they show their respect as a result of knowing Haesan’s relation to the Queen Mother? What influence does Nuqasiq have here, in a refugee camp of a faction that is not even of her own people?

We pass a spacious area where many have gathered to eat. The open space is lined with numerous carts made from wood, which carry a wide variety of fruits and root vegetables, a tremendous assortment the likes of which I’ve never before seen. There are items possessing colors I never knew to be possible from grown food! How did these people come upon such a bountiful harvest among these desolate lands?

Upon our arrival, the Atima villagers who are present quickly end their jovial conversations, monitoring us as we walk by. Children hurriedly run to their parents for protection, and others greet us with cold, tone-faced expressions. I suppose that respect and trust must be earned — understandable coming from a people who have faced frequent betrayal and devastation in their history. However, I still find it to be off-putting, to be blunt, continually being distrusted and looked upon as external threats.

Two of the men escorting us pull open large flaps of the enormous tent. We’re waved inside, and follow the remaining Atima guards into a torchlit space. Before us, several elders sit crosslegged in a semicircle atop woven rugs on the ground. If not bald, the men and women seated here have their heads nearly shaved short in its entirety, save for a single braid that trails down their cheek. Many contain the weathered faces of those who have seen and suffered through much.

The elders study us carefully, some with piercing stares, others with thoughtful and curious gazes. One with a more gentle expression asks, “We hear you come with some urgent matters to discuss. What brings you to our humble campsite?”

Haesan and I exchange a glance. I clear my throat, trying to ignore the knot of anxiety tightening in my chest. “We’ve come to seek your support against the Eye in the Flame. Our people face annihilation if we do not unite.”

One of the elders narrows his eyes while stroking his chin. “We’re familiar with the Eye in the Flame. Word of their destructive nature has traveled by way of merchants from far distant lands.”

Another elder, this one with a scarred face, leans forward and eyes us with a skepticism that could cut iron. “They seek to destroy the Tapeu, who have a tremendous army. Why should we risk our lives for a cause that does not concern us directly? We’ve survived by remaining isolated. We do not need to insert ourselves into the affairs of others. We have enough to handle here on our own.”

“Your isolation won’t protect you forever,” I retort, feeling the anger pulsing through my veins. “The Eye in the Flame wish to see every faction kneel to them. Qapauma fell despite its fortifications. We must stand together or fall separately.”

“Though she speaks very directly, there is truth to what my companion is saying,” Haesan adds, her voice much softer and more controlled than mine. “While Qapauma was able to live to fight another day, their defenses have been greatly reduced. We fear the Eye in the Flame will regroup and return to finish what they set out to accomplish while the Tapeu are recovering.”

An elder with a long, silver braid that drapes over her shoulder looks at me somberly with bright, hazel eyes. She begins to speak, her voice soft yet resonant. “We have known suffering, far beyond the reach of memory,” she says, her eyes distant, as if seeing a time long past. “Much like the Ulxa dozens of generations ago, the Timuaq brought destruction to our lands, scorching our fields, and crumbling our homes and sacred temples. They cursed our lands, seeking to erase our history, to break our spirit. But we endured. Our people have always been resilient, finding strength in our shared sorrow and our collective hope.”

The elder’s voice softens even further. “We have learned to live with less, to cherish each moment of peace, and to nurture the seeds of tomorrow. Our isolation has been our shield, allowing us to heal, but we have been kept from reaching out and reclaiming our place in the world.”

She pauses, shifting her gaze as if looking to the mountains in the distance through the canvas tent walls. “I dream of the day when our children can walk freely in the lands of our ancestors, without fear. A day when the Atima can stand proud and unbowed, our hearts open to the possibilities of tomorrow.” She falls silent, her words hanging in the air.

The elder with the scarred face shifts on his rug, his eyes narrowing. “Sweet words and hopeful dreams do not feed our people or protect our homes,” he grumbles.

He leans forward, resting his elbow upon his knee, “I repeat, what concern of that is ours? When the Atima were forced out of our lands at the hands of the Timuaq, we were able to salvage what we could and settle here. Being away from the fighting has allowed us to regain our own strength and begin our path to prosperity. There is no need to fight someone else’s battles.”

I feel the emotion welling up inside of me. I choose not to tame it, saying, “You act as though other factions don’t suffer. My people were cut down at the hands of the Eye in the Flame, while still rebuilding from what was done to us by the Timuaq. What are the Tuatiu to the war for the throne? These cultists do not discriminate; they view everyone who don’t follow their misguided and distorted beliefs as the enemy, and they will strike down all who refuse to join them. There is nothing to prove the Eye in the Flame won’t come after the Atima.”

The elder glances away. I must’ve struck a nerve. I persist, stepping forward and looking directly at the elder who has been so dismissive as I continue. “While Iantana recovers, my people fight. If Qapauma falls to the Eye in the Flame, they will hold the seat of power and see to it that their disgusting plan of persecuting all they view as inferior is seen through to completion. What would the Atima do then, huh? Wait and see if this happens?”

Haesan places a hand on my shoulder, trying to calm me. My heart is racing too quickly, too intensely to be soothed. I snarl at the dissenting elder, my expression challenging him to state that I’m wrong.

Another of the elders — the contemplative one — looks at the Qantua warriors beside me. “And what of the Qantua?” they inquire. “Why have they joined this fight?”

“I’m afraid the threat is greater than any one faction,” one of the Qantua warriors steps forward and addresses him. “We’ve seen the destruction firsthand. We have traveled through the Aimue territory and discovered the Eye in the Flame had destroyed Xaqelatun, leaving very few survivors.”

“The Aimue are simple farmers,” I include, “seeking nothing but a simple, peaceful life after being subjugated by the Timuaq. What are they to the throne? This is further proof that the cult does not discriminate, and they can come for Atima at any time.“

Haesan nods solemnly. “This is not just the Tapeu’s fight, nor that of the Aimue; it’s all of ours.”

“And what of this Eye in the Flame?” the elder with the scar asks. “You said they retreated to regroup after their failed assault on Qapauma. What makes them a concerning force, now that their numbers have also been diminished? Do we know what their true strength is? Or are you simply being alarmist?”

Does he think we speak false? Why is he so quick to dismiss our concerns? I grind my teeth in frustration, enraged that he appears to not take us seriously, even with an army at our back.

Fortunately for him, Haesan presses a hand on my chest, holding me back from charging at this man’s willful ignorance, and addresses him directly. “We’ve faced their forces and barely survived. They have powers that can tear through our defenses with ease. There are sorcerers in their midst, using some form of dark magic thought to have been vanquished upon the defeat of the Timuaq. And the creatures the Ulxa supplied to the titans pale in comparison to the nearly indestructible beasts they can spawn now. This is no ordinary enemy.”

“This sounds grave, indeed,” one of the elders says. Her leathery face looks upon the others with great concern. “Even if the cult does not find us right away, it may be only a matter of time before they ultimately do.”

“But how are we to fight them?” another elder says, the contemplative one. “Through sparse trade engagements, we have barely amassed enough weapons and armor to outfit a handful of our men. If the Eye in the Flame possess magic wielders and creatures of great destructive abilities, we will not stand a chance!”

“That is why we ask that you join our numbers,” Haesan says. “We can provide your people with weapons and armor, and the Qantua are excellent warriors who can train your people. Given the urgency of the situation, we can send messengers to request additional provisions and supplies. If we fight together, we form a much greater opposition than if we fight individually. We were only able to stave off their initial effort at conquering Qapauma because we united with the Tapeu. But with their numbers heavily depleted, we won’t be able to resist the enemy when they strike again.”

The scarred elder has had enough. “Other. People’s. Wars.” He emphatically emphasizes each word with his fist pounding the open palm of his other hand. “And it’s all speculation. The Eye in the Flame could be licking their wounds right now, rolling over and exposing their belly to the first warriors ready to vanquish them. Instead of blabbering on here, you could’ve taken that army of yours and wiped them off the face of Pachil for good. But you’re choosing to jaw with us, wasting valuable time. We should refuse their — “

A series of shouts call out in the distance. Heavy footsteps thump past the closed flap of the tent, running off toward the yelling. The Qantua warriors and I draw our weapons, prepared to engage in a fight. This may be the circumstances of which we tried to warn these slow-footed Atima elders. It may be too late to spare this settlement of sure annihilation.

I plan to sprint toward the commotion, but quickly cease. I look for Haesan, realizing that, while I am ready to bring the fight to the enemy, I must prioritize her safety first. But I don’t need to search for long; right by my side, she follows, a fierce look of determination fixed to her face. She must want this scum to fall as badly as I do.

Before we proceed, I stop her. She looks at me, concerned and confused. I reach for the obsidian dagger sheathed at my hip, then plant it in her hand. “Take this,” I command. “It’s a dagger that has been blessed, capable of defeating the gray creatures with a single stroke. I’m going to assume you know how to use a blade.”

She shakes her head in short bursts. “Not at all. But, I suppose, I will have to learn as I go.”

Those are not exactly the words I had hoped for. But, they will have to do. With reluctance, I nod and resume my sprint.

We dash through the maze of blue and beige tents, weaving through the dirt paths to seek out the approaching threat. Many curious onlookers peek their heads out from their tents, while others stand to gawk at the disturbance to their otherwise peaceful lives. Some men and women collect their weapons, or items to be used as such, prepared to defend their homes.

Dozens of Atima have gathered along with the Qantua warriors, standing between the village and the strangers on route toward the campsite. In the distance, countless specks head our way. Is it another army seeking to rest and regroup before marching onward to Qapauma? Or is it the Eye in the Flame, preparing to conquer Qelantu Loh and use it as a new base of operations?

Haesan and I make our way to the front of the group. A few Qantua warriors flank me, spears and swords held at the ready. I squint, trying to make out the shapes in the distance. The sun is low, casting long shadows that play tricks on my eyes. The figures are still too far away to discern any details, but they move with purpose, like a well-trained unit. My heart races. This could be it — the moment we feared.

The Atima elders arrive alongside us at the front, exchanging worried glances. The Qantua warriors grip their weapons tighter, muscles taut and ready to leap into action. A tense silence hangs in the air, each side bracing for what might come next.

A low murmur spreads through the crowd as the figures draw closer. I can hear the heavy clank of armor now, and the rhythmic thud of boots on the ground. I glance at Haesan, who stands beside me, watching the silhouettes tentatively. Her knuckles turn white as she clutches the obsidian dagger, and there’s a fire in her eyes that I hadn’t seen before.

As the figures come into clearer view, I catch the glint of bronze armor. The orange and red tunics of the Tapeu are unmistakable, but I cannot let my guard down. My mind races through the possibilities. If they are from the Tapeu palace, they could be allies. But could the Eye in the Flame be disguising themselves to catch us off guard? Or warriors loyal to the Arbiter, Achutli, seeking to apprehend Haesan for perceived slights? There appears to be a complicated history between them, one that makes me question their true intentions and heightens my sense of unease.

The silhouettes draw closer, and I can make out their faces now. Among them, a regal figure stands out, her presence commanding and unmistakable. She makes no effort to disguise her status as a noble, adorned with a gold crown embedded with turquoise and lapis lazuli. Her flowing, bright purple dress glimmers under the weight of countless gold jewelry pieces that drape from her ears, neck, wrists, and fingers. Her familiar form is surrounded by the stoic palace guards. My mind races, trying to piece together why she would be here, so far from Qapauma and leading a group of palace guards.

Before I can process my thoughts, Haesan’s face lights up with recognition. The crowd parts slightly as she leaps forward, breaking into a sprint. I reach out to stop her, to pull her back into the safety of our ranks, but she’s already moving, her voice breaking through the tense silence.

“Nuqasiq!” she shouts, her tone a mix of relief and joy.