111 — Walumaq
Upon my return to the group, navigating a narrow path that descends the mountain — which I nearly missed due to my exhaustion — I was met with jubilation from those gathered. Well, nearly all who were gathered.
“You know this won’t free Tlexnín, right?” Paxilche asks.
My companions, the Ulxa shaman, and Tlexnín looked upon me with pride. Even the Auilqa warriors — who were prepared to execute the Ulxa leader should I fail — nodded in acknowledgement of my achievement. The Ulxa shaman declared me to be chosen by the gods. My fellow Sanqo warriors beamed. Saqatli looked relieved. Everyone rejoiced at my accomplishment.
Everyone except Paxilche.
As we prepare to make our way back to the remnants of Analoixan, his skeptical words, spoken moments after my arrival, gnaw at me. A seed of doubt begins to take root. Was my victory hollow? Did I merely delay the inevitable? Despite the celebrations, Tlexnín’s fate still hangs in the balance. What have I truly accomplished?
Casting aside the uncertainty, I focus on the plan upon our return to the decimated city. It’s still under Auilqa control, and they will be resistant to surrendering the leader of their faction’s rival. Putting it kindly, we’re on our way to rejoin a hostile environment. Taking on the Tepeyōllotl may have been only a brief reprieve.
However, my achievement may have earned us valuable allies. Witnessing my feat, the shaman appears inclined to grant Tlexnín her freedom, albeit temporarily. Perhaps we can utilize this dynamic to our advantage, negotiating from a position of newfound strength. I must harness this momentum, channel it into strategy and action. If we are to free Tlexnín, it will require more than just brute force or divine favor — it will demand cunning, diplomacy, and perhaps a touch of ruthlessness.
Time is of the essence. This moment is fleeting, but it’s ours. The tides of fortune have shifted ever so slightly in our favor. We must use the momentum of my triumph to broker a truce, secure Tlexnín’s release, and forge a path forward. The journey is fraught with peril, but hesitation now could unravel all we’ve fought for.
Steeling myself, I am prepared to confront this challenge head-on. Paxilche’s doubts may linger, but they will not dictate my path. I will not allow this opportunity to slip through our grasp.
Our next move must be decisive. There is no room for error.
I stand before the shaman and the Auilqa warriors, their faces hard and unforgiving as they apprehend Tlexnín. I need to act now. I take a deep breath, my heart pounding in my chest, and address everyone present. “Let us speak, warrior to warrior,” I begin. “We seek the release of Tlexnín. She has been wrongfully imprisoned and deserves her freedom. This act of goodwill could mend the rift between the Ulxa and Auilqa.”
The lead Auilqa warrior, a stern-faced man with eyes as dark and cold as the obsidian of his blade, narrows his gaze at me. “We have our orders. Tlexnín remains our prisoner until her execution. Your trial may have impressed some, but it does not override our command.”
I sense the rigidity in the Auilqa warrior’s stance, his unyielding nature. But I also see a glimmer of uncertainty, a crack in his armor. I take a step closer, lowering my voice to a near whisper. “By holding her, you are prolonging this conflict. Release her, and we can work together to rebuild what has been destroyed.”
The jungle around us suddenly goes silent, as if it listens in and awaits his response. The Auilqa warrior hesitates, a flicker of doubt crossing his angular face. He looks back at his fellow warriors for support, but their expressions only mirror his uncertainty.
I seize the moment. I step even closer, and now my voice is a plea wrapped in obsidian. “This is a chance to end the cycle of violence. Show mercy now, and you will be remembered not as executioners, but as peacemakers.”
The lead warrior’s grip on his spear tightens, his knuckles turning white. He turns to the shaman, seeking guidance. The shaman nods slowly and deliberately. The warrior’s eyes return to mine, and the coldness melts away to reveal a man caught between duty and conscience.
“This outsider has completed the trial at Tepeyōllotl,” the shaman reminds him. “She has been chosen by the gods. They have deemed her path to be noble and true. You must respect her wishes, lest you desire to have the gods strike you down where you stand!”
I can see the internal struggle playing out on his face. The muscles in his jaw tighten, then relax, his eyes flicker with doubt, then harden again. I take a step back, giving him space to process, hoping that the humanity in my words — and the assertiveness of the shaman — will reach him.
Unable to contain his frustration, Paxilche abruptly steps forward. “Enough talking!” he shouts. His voice is raw, his rage primal. “We don’t have time for this!” He retrieves Ridgebreaker, the club’s mixture of gold and copper glinting menacingly in the dappled light. His nostrils flare as his eyes blaze with anger.
This sudden move alarms the Auilqa warriors. They react instantly, their own weapons drawn in a synchronized motion. The sharp tips of their spears are quickly pointed at their assailant, and they are ready to defend their orders. Storm clouds slowly form overhead, and I feel the bristling potential for more needless violence.
My heart sinks like a heavy stone in my chest. The delicate balance we had achieved is now teetering on the edge of collapse. I raise my hands, palms open, in a gesture signaling peace. “Paxilche, stand down!” I command. “We can still resolve this without bloodshed!”
Paxilche’s eyes meet mine. For a moment, I see a hint of recognition, a reminder of the bonds we share. He hesitates, the club wavering in his hand, and the fire in his eyes dims just slightly, but enough to give me hope.
Still poised for battle, the lead Auilqa warrior watches our exchange closely. The grip on his spear loosens just a fraction, his stance less rigid. The shaman steps forward, placing a hand on the warrior’s shoulder, providing a calming presence with his touch.
“Paxilche,” I continue, now urgently pleading, “we must show them that we are capable of peace, of mercy. Lower your weapon. I beg you.”
Bound and guarded by the Auilqa warriors, Tlexnín steps forward as much as her restraints allow. She addresses the Auilqa leader, her voice shaking with fury. “You know this is not right. The Sanqo goddess completed the trial of Tepeyōllotl. Are you foolish enough to ignore this feat? The Eye in the Flame are the true enemies, and the Auilqa seized an opportunity when we were at our most vulnerable, when all we wanted was to fight for our chance to live, to survive. Do what is just, what will have the gods look down favorably upon you and your people, before it is too late.”
I wince at Tlexnín’s accusations, the words cutting through the fragile peace we had been trying to forge. This is not what we needed, not when the warrior’s armor began showing cracks. I see the resolve harden in the lead warrior’s eyes, his jaw clenching as a scowl forms at the edge of his mouth.
“We should have never allowed this farce to happen this long,” the warrior remarks. “We should have done what we intended to do from the start: the traitor should be put to death!”
Staring Tlexnín down, he reaches for something at his side. This causes my companions to hastily draw their weapons. As a reaction, so, too, do the Auilqa warriors. Everyone stands at the ready, blades pointed at their presumed foes.
“Stop!” I desperately call out. “Stop this at once! It needn’t come to this!”
The Auilqa guard retrieves what appears to be a long, conical horn. It’s made from some type of bone, some horn of an animal, intricately carved with figures and patterns. At the narrow end, the tip is encased in gold, gleaming faintly in the dim light. As he raises it, a hush falls over all who are present.
“That horn,” the shaman says. “Its sound is known to carry throughout the entirety of Auilqa territory. From here, it could be heard across vast expanses, reaching far beyond the horizon. Blowing that will alert the Auilqa in Analoixan that a threat looms. They will know something has gone awry, and our position will be exposed! We will be swarmed by merciless Auilqa warriors within moments!”
My eyes grow wide. I splay out my hands, gesturing for him to calm himself. “Good warrior, you do not need to act upon misconceived threats. There is no need to do anything rash.”
Despite my efforts to defuse the situation, the Auilqa warrior is too on edge. His eyes dart around, assessing the threat. His eyes connect with Tlexnín, and there’s something in their exchange that sets him off. In my mind, I scream for him to not go through with what he’s about to do. But I know, deep down, that it is too late.
To my chagrin, he makes a quick, decisive motion. He hurriedly presses the horn to his lips and blows. Its haunting, mournful wail cuts through the jungle and echoes far into the distance. The deafening sound must certainly have reached the ears of the distant guards at Analoixan. It will be a call to arms that cannot be ignored.
I glance at Paxilche, Pomaqli, and the Sanqo warriors, seeing the realization dawn on their faces. Now fully alert and ready for combat, the Auilqa warriors tighten their grips on their weapons, glaring at us as they carefully watch how we respond.
I take a deep breath, the reality of our situation crashing down on me. My mind races, weighing our options, and knowing that, as I greatly fear, retreat is not one of them. I make a quick decision, and with a commanding voice, I declare, “We fight our way out. Protect Tlexnín at all costs!”
My Sanqo warriors move into position, forming a protective circle around the Ulxa leader. Paxilche steps forward, his club ready, his eyes blazing with a ferocious hunger, as though this is all that he’s wanted. Pomaqli and Atoyaqtli flank him, their own weapons drawn. The others fan out, prepared to confront any challengers that step their way.
The Auilqa warriors advance, their spears casting sharp reflections in the fragmented sunlight. The lead warrior steps forward, his eyes locked onto mine. There is a moment of stillness — a brief, unsettling silence before the storm.
With a fierce cry, the Auilqa warriors charge. The jungle erupts into catastrophe, blades and weapons flailing about wildly. I duck and weave, narrowly avoiding a spear thrusted toward my side. From my left, a blur of turquoise and coral darts forward. It’s then I see Chiqama plunging his dagger into the painted torso of the Auilqa warrior. The warrior before me staggers back, giving me a brief moment to catch my breath.
Amid the calamity, I see Tlexnín struggling against her restraints. She kicks out at one of her captors, using the limited freedom of her bound limbs to create space. Paxilche moves to her side, swinging his club in wide arcs to fend off attackers.
The Ulxa warrior’s head swivels frantically from side to side, searching for anything that can cut through the ropes binding her hands. Just then, her gaze meets that of an Auilqa warrior. Recognizing her vulnerability, he charges at her. Tlexnín’s eyes grow wide with panic. She looks for any weapon in which to defend herself. But her search discovers nothing.
A loud roar erupts out of nowhere. Pomaqli swings his sword, blocking the Auilqa warrior’s strike. He maneuvers around, sweeping the warrior’s legs, but only kicks at air as the Auilqa leaps out of the way.
Another thrust of the warrior’s spear hurtles toward the Qiapu fighter. A sharp groan in pain pierces through the air. Pomaqli briefly looks down, seeing the streak of red at his ribs. Enraged, he swings his sword wildly, forcing the Auilqa warrior back. Desperately trying to defend the incoming blows, the warrior twists and turns, holding up his spear. But his efforts are futile. Pomaqli brings down his sword, slashing the Auilqa warrior across the torso. As his foe is hunched over in pain, Pomaqli swings the sword once more, slicing the Auilqa warrior’s throat.
Saqatli and Noch race toward Pomaqli. “You are gravely injured!” he says in alarm.
“I’ll be fine,” Pomaqli says through his teeth, wincing in pain. “We must defend Tlexnín.”
“The others can do that. We must tend to your wound.” Saqatli insists. The Qiapu warrior considers this, then shakes his head in refusal. But the pain is too great, and he sucks air through his teeth as he attempts to move. Eventually, he concedes, allowing the boy and the ocelot to guide him to safety.
I crouch down low, swooping in and grabbing a spear from the felled Auilqa warrior. With a blade in hand, I rush over to the Ulxa leader. Paxilche protects us both, fighting back the approaching warriors. Tlexnín quickly recognizes my intentions, positioning herself to use the blade to free herself from her restraints. She writhes her wrists back and forth along the blade’s edge, growling in frustration at the slow progress. But after fighting long and hard against the bindings, the spear finally slices through. Tlexnín and I exchange relieved glances. We will get through this. We will survive.
Through the haze of battle, I glimpse the Ulxa shaman standing at the edge of the clearing, his eyes watching the unfolding battle with a mix of sorrow and inevitability. Then, there’s a motion from the corner of my eye. Instinctively, I hold the spear up with both hands. Through pure instinct, I block a strike aimed at my head with the shaft. I shake off the feeling of shock, and deliver a swift kick that sends my opponent sprawling. As he hits the ground, his spear skitters away. With her hands now freed, Tlexnín picks up the weapon, then drives it into the downed warrior. Blood spurts from his mouth as he wheezes from the wound. She watches him die with a cold expression across her face, twisting the spear for good measure.
Pomacha stands firm beside Tlexnín, his mighty axe deflecting blow after blow targeting the Ulxa leader. As the Auilqa warriors recoil to attempt their effort again, he strikes with precision. He maims one with a clean slash that severs their left arm, then rips through the stomach of the other.
Two more Auilqa warriors storm Pomacha’s position. The burley man fends off one, swiping away the incoming spear, but the other jabs him in the thigh. The Sanqo warrior silently gnashes his teeth, watching the stream of crimson trickle down his leg. Undeterred, he swings his axe, forcing his foes back, back, back and away from us.
At this, the lead Auilqa warrior charges at me and Tlexnín, thrusting his spear forward. I barely parry the blow, as the impact reverberates up my arm. His attacks are well-practiced and precise, and I struggle to counter his movements. My inexperience with the spear is greatly evident in my awkward defenses. I manage to deflect another thrust from the leader, but the spear’s tip grazes my arm. The pain flares through my limb, causing me to almost drop my weapon. The leader smirks as he draws back the spear, ready to lunge at a defenseless Tlexnín with a finishing strike.
There’s a shout, then, suddenly, a scream pierces the air. Before me, I see the Ulxa shaman struck by an errant spear from the Auilqa leader. The weapon lodges in his side, and he collapses to the ground. His eyes are wide with shock and pain. My senses are filled with both grief and rage. My heart lurches at the sight of the shaman, who now lies lifeless on the jungle floor.
The moment fuels me. Fighting through the pain, I parry another strike from the leader, and tighten my grip on the spear. With a final, desperate effort, I push him back, creating enough space for our group to maneuver.
“Move! Now!” I shout, signaling our retreat.
Naqispi and Chiqama overwhelm the warrior with a flurry of blows. They slash at him from all directions, causing him to tumble onto his back. They lift their weapons high into the air, prepared to bring them down upon the helpless foe. The downed warrior shows no sign of fear, only looking upon them both with a raised chin.
“No!” I yell. “Spare him! He is only doing his duty!”
Confused, the two Sanqo warriors look at me as though I’ve spoken another tongue. I understand why they’re baffled by my desire for mercy, but I never wanted bloodshed. I only sought peace between the warring sides. I wanted this conflict to be resolved diplomatically, amicably. Yet somewhere, something became lost, misunderstood. But it doesn’t have to end with more needless deaths.
To my relief, the two men lower their weapons, though they watch the leader vigilantly. They have done as I commanded, yet they don’t expect the Auilqa warrior to reciprocate the gesture. They back away slowly, cautiously, suspiciously, their backs never turning to their opponent.
A rumbling of thunder trembles the jungles. Storm clouds begin forming overhead in the darkening sky. There was no such weather when we arrived — only clear skies since embarking to this place this morning. It’s then that I understand what’s about to come, and my body goes cold immediately.
“Paxilche!” I exclaim. I turn to the Qiapu man, whose eyes have begun to ominously glow white. “Do not do what you are about to do!”
“The enemy threatens us all!” he yells. He casts an arm up toward the sky as flashes of light beam across the clouds. “We should have never placed our trust in these savages! You should have never been so naïve as to trust these vile creatures!”
“Paxilche, listen to me!” I shout, my voice trembling. “You cannot unleash your power here. You’ll kill us all, including our own people. Is that what you want?”
Still glowing white, his eyes lock onto mine with a fierce intensity. “They betrayed us, Walumaq! They betrayed the Ulxa, and they betrayed us! The trial was supposed to mean something, yet they spit in our faces. They deserve nothing less than total annihilation!”
I take a step closer to him, feeling my racing heart trying to rip through my chest. “But at what cost? Why also threaten the lives of innocents? That includes these warriors, who are only carrying out their orders. It’s not them with whom you should be angry, but their leaders. And we will find a solution for their deceit, I promise.”
For a moment, Paxilche’s expression falters, the storm in his eyes gradually subsiding. “But the Ulxa, they… they deserve justice.”
“Yes, they do,” I say, my voice softer now, trying to reach the part of him that still cares. “But not like this. Not with blind rage. Not in a way that destroys everything and everyone around us. We need to be smart, to strategize. This is not the way to achieve justice.”
Paxilche’s arm lowers slightly, and the storm clouds above us slowly begin to dissipate. “But they’ll just betray us again. How can we trust anyone after this?”
I place a hand on his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles. “We don’t have to trust them blindly, but we need to be united. You are a protector, that much is evident. Use your strength to guide us, not to destroy us.”
His eyes lose their glow, and the rumbling in the sky fades. He looks at me, his face a mixture of anger, confusion, and a hint of shame. “I… I don’t know if I can control it.”
I squeeze his arm, trying to convey all the urgency and sincerity I can muster. “You have to. For all our sakes. We need you, Paxilche. But we need you to be the man who fights for us, not against us.”
Paxilche takes a deep breath, nodding slowly. “I’ll try. But they will pay. One way or another.”
“They will,” I assure him. “But right now, we need to protect Tlexnín and get out of here.”
He nods again, more firmly this time. Before anything else can happen, I signal for us to move out. Saqatli aids the wounded Pomaqli, carrying him safely away. Eyeing the remaining Auilqa warriors skeptically, the Sanqo keep their weapons at the ready, and we slip into the rainforest under the cover of the incoming night.
As we break through the clearing and into the jungle, the discordant noise of pursuit echoes behind us. The horn’s alarm sounds once more, and I know we are far from safe. But we have no choice other than to press on.
The dense foliage provides some cover, but it also slows us down. We push forward, every step taking us further from the clearing, further from the place where everything went so wrong, so quickly.
The sound of pursuit grows fainter, but we can’t afford to be complacent. Paxilche takes the lead, his sharp eyes sweeping the terrain for a potential hideout. Atoyaqtli stays close to Tlexnín, constantly searching for any looming threats.
“There,” Paxilche whispers, pointing to a rocky outcrop partially concealed by a thicket. “That should provide some cover.”
We make our way to the outcrop. After a quick inspection, we find a small cave. It’s not much, but it’s enough to shield us from prying eyes and offer some much needed respite.
As we settle inside, Tlexnín collapses onto the ground, her exhaustion evident. I kneel beside her, examining her wounds. “We need to tend to these,” I say softly.
Saqatli nods, already rummaging through his tiny satchel for supplies. “I will take care of it,” he says.
“But you are already doing so much,” Tlexnín notes. “I will be fine. Take care of — “
“No, great Ulxa warrior. With the help of Noch, I can take care of you both,” Saqatli insists. Tlexnín nods in respect, letting the boy work on healing her wounds.
I take a moment to assess our grim situation. Paxilche stands guard at the cave entrance, and the Sanqo warriors inspect the surroundings.
“I’m afraid we can’t stay here long,” I say, addressing the group. “The Auilqa will be searching for us, and they’ll likely find this place sooner or later.”
“Indeed, we need a plan,” Tlexnín says. “We cannot let the Auilqa maintain control of territory in Ulxa. We have to regroup the Ulxa forces.”
“We need to go to Qiapu,” I suggest. “While Saxina is no friend to Paxilche nor our group, perhaps we can find allies in Qiapu who are willing to support our cause.”
Paxilche’s face is stricken with confusion. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Saxina’s influence is strong, and I can imagine he’s using the Eye in the Flame assault to rally supporters. I don’t know if we’ll find many friends in my homeland.”
Tlexnín frowns, shaking her head. “And what about my people? The Ulxa who are still imprisoned and suffering under Auilqa rule? We cannot abandon them. Not now.”
“I understand your concern,” I say, addressing the Ulxa leader, “but we can’t save them without a strong force behind us. I still believe we can rally support in smaller villages around Qiapu and gather our strength. It’s the only way to ensure a successful rescue mission.”
Tlexnín looks between us. “But how can we be sure we will find allies in Qiapu? The factions have their own interests and might not see the plight of my people as their concern.”
“We can offer them something in return,” I say, trying to think quickly. “We can promise to support them in their fight against the Eye in the Flame, ensuring that their lands are protected and that the Eye in the Flame’s influence does not spread further.”
Atoyaqtli adds, “And we can highlight the threat the Auilqa pose to all factions. If they can occupy Ulxa, they can spread their influence further. It’s in everyone’s best interest to stop them now, before they are invaded.”
Tlexnín shakes her head fervently. “No, this plan does not please me. We must free my people from Auilqa rule before those invaders latch onto Ulxa land and become difficult to eradicate.”
Paxilche nods. “I don’t see us getting much help from the Qiapu. Not right now, not with Saxina in charge.”
“There are other villages throughout Ulxa we can travel to, and they will support us and supply warriors,” Tlexnín states. “When they learn that Analoixan has been taken, they will do what is necessary to reclaim our capital.”
“It appears it’s decided, then,” I say reluctantly. “Let us find a more secure location to set up camp for the night. Then, we head out to Ulxa villages before the break of dawn.”
We gather our possessions and move out as stealthily as we can. No words are exchanged as we quietly traverse the jungle at night. The only footsteps I hear are ours, and I start to gain hope that the Ulxa pursuit may be far behind us. Yet we press on anyway, not taking any chances.
We trek well into the night. The moon soars above, dimly lighting our way. At some point, Tlexnín determines we should be safe, and declares we find shelter. Perhaps it’s her exhaustion that influences the decision, but we are all too tired, too battle worn to dissuade her. Without hesitation, the Sanqo warriors begin building a makeshift shelter, while Saqatli tends to the wounded Pomaqli and Tlexnín.
After ensuring Tlexnín is as comfortable as possible, I join Paxilche, who is collecting an assortment of leaves to make a temporary and uncomfortable-appearing bed. “How are you holding up?” I ask him.
He glances at me, his expression a mix of frustration and determination. “We can’t let them win, Walumaq. The Auilqa, the Eye in the Flame… they can’t be allowed to destroy everything we’ve worked for.”
“We won’t,” I say. “We’ll find a way to stop them.”
I believe Paxilche senses the disappointment in my voice, because he says, “Listen, I understand this is not the path you would have taken. But if we can rally enough support and retake Analoixan, we could use this army to fight off the remnants of the Eye in the Flame. I know this isn’t an ideal situation — “
“None of it has been ideal,” I respond. “None of this has gone according to plan, and I don’t know what to do next. Despite my good intentions, I feel like everything I do has led to disaster. And now we’re on a course to clean up the mess I’ve made, not make any progress with the real matter we should be addressing.”
Paxilche grimaces, then nods slowly and stands up. He says nothing further, allowing the conversation to drop there before walking away. I’m left to deal with my thoughts, alone.
As night falls, we take turns keeping watch. The sounds of the jungle our only company. In the quiet moments, I reflect on our journey so far. While we’ve gained valuable allies, we’ve lost so much.
I think back to Analoixan, the city we fought so hard to protect. In our struggle to save it from the Eye in the Flame, we cleared the way for another threat. The Auilqa’s occupation is a bitter tea to swallow, a reminder of the price we pay for every victory.
Sitting alone, under the dim canopy of stars barely visible through the thick foliage, I’m haunted by the faces of those we’ve lost. Their memories weigh heavily on my heart, each one a ghost of my failed promises. I question every decision, every step that led us here.
I glance over at Paxilche, his silhouette rigid against the faint glow of our campfire. He’s driven by a fire I can’t seem to muster anymore, his gaze fixed on a horizon I can’t see. His resolve is a double-edged blade. His passion and determination cut through our enemies with ruthless precision, but they also leave wounds among our own ranks, severing bonds and sowing distrust. His unwavering focus sharpens our fight, yet it also blinds him to the cost of his actions. Where he sees a path to victory, I see only a trail of sorrow and sacrifice.
In the darkest hour before dawn, I’m left grappling with the enormity of our mission. We are warriors without a home, champions of a cause that seems to slip further away with each step. Within the quiet moments, I allow myself the luxury of doubt, even as I prepare myself for the battles to come.
