115 — Saqatli

We march through the exotic Ulxa jungles in silence, as a gloom hangs heavily over us. Nothing has gone according to plan, and morale feels as if it is lower than the deepest depths of a cave. Paxilche is brooding, likely from having his plan rebuffed. Tlexnín is angered by the loss of the capital of her people. The Sanqo are upset from being away from their homeland for so long. But it is Walumaq whose despondency is the most alarming. In the short time I have known her, she has been the one full of hope and optimism. What has caused her such distress?

I approach the Sanqo princess, though she is not aware of my presence. Her attention is on the ground in front of her, her face solemn, lost in her thoughts. Noch assists me in getting her attention, rubbing along the legs of the princess. To my relief, this elicits a warm smile from her, albeit a tiny one. But it is a victory nonetheless.

“What seems to be the problem, Sanqo princess?” I inquire, my voice resonating within our respective minds.

She looks around, then her gaze meets mine. “I’m beginning to believe we’re straying too far from the path,” she thinks.

“But we are walking to the next Ulxa village, as we all discussed,” I respond, confused by her statement.

She shakes her head. “No, I mean the path to defeat the real evil — the Eye in the Flame. I fear we’ve become distracted from our real goal. That, and the trust I have seemingly misplaced in others. And…” Her voice trails off inside my mind, but I can tell there is something greater — even greater than all of the issues she has just expressed — that is causing her much grief.

After a pause, she sniffles, wiping her nose hurriedly. Then, she continues, “I fear that this mission to rally support for Ulxa to regain Analoixan is important, but it’s allowing the surviving Eye in the Flame time to regroup and gain strength while we’re only weakening the forces that could resist them. And Paxilche… I worry about him. His emotions often override his rationality. I fear what he is capable of, and I worry I won’t always be present to quell his basest desires.”

Noch moves closer to Walumaq, rubbing her head gently on the calf of the Sanqo princess. The soft, comforting purr seems to calm her somewhat. I step closer, my heart aching for her.

“Sanqo princess,” I begin, trying my best to choose my words carefully, “your concerns about the Eye in the Flame are valid. We must remain vigilant and not lose sight of our ultimate goal. I believe our course, though it may appear to be diverging, will lead us back to the fight against true evil. But as for Paxilche…”

Noch looks up at me, as though she is telling me to speak from my heart. “The emotions of Paxilche are strong, yes,” I continue, “but they stem from a place of deep care and passion. It is not easy to balance such intense feelings, especially in times of conflict. Your presence does help him, more than you realize. But you are right to worry. It is important to guide him, to remind him of what is truly at stake. Perhaps, in those moments of anger, try to reach the part of him that cares deeply. It is in those moments that his true strength can be found.”

The eyes of Walumaq soften slightly, and she nods again, more resolutely this time. “I will try,” she says.

Despite the slight relief, I can see that the worry in her eyes does not fade entirely. There is still something weighing heavily on her heart.

I do not know how to address it. Maybe I am not the person to whom she should be speaking. Maybe I am not capable enough of aiding her with carrying her burdens. Maybe I am not worthy to be in the presence of a goddess.

Sensing my uncertainty, Noch nudges my leg with her head. She purrs softly, looks up at me with her wise, amber eyes, and then glances back at Walumaq, as if urging me to say something more. She always seems to understand more than I do, possessing an intuition I can only hope to one day obtain.

I take a deep breath, gathering my courage. “Perhaps,” I say, my voice hesitant and cracking subtly, “it is not just the path that worries you, but something deeper, something more personal? After all, you have mentioned misplaced trust. Is it in your companions, or… in yourself?”

Walumaq pauses for a moment, and I can see the struggle within her. She looks away, her face etched with pain. “It’s not just about the path or the people around me,” she thinks, her voice filled with sorrow. “It’s about the… prophecy.”

“Prophecy?” I ask, intrigued.

“Yes, a prophecy given to me by an old crone in the Tapeu city of Chalaqta,” she explains. “However, I’m beginning to think it was all a mistake.”

“What was told to you?”

Walumaq takes a deep breath, her shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world rests upon them. “She said I was the great uniter, the one who would either save or destroy Pachil. That it was my choice. I was to stop the destroyers, and I believed them to be the Eye in the Flame. But now, I’m not so sure. What if I’ve put too much faith in a false prophecy? What if I’m not a uniter? What if… what if it was all a lie?”

“Prophecies can be mysterious and often difficult to interpret,” I say softly. “But I believe in your strength and your heart. The path may not be clear, but your intentions are noble. We all have doubts, especially when the stakes are so high. What matters is that you continue to fight for what you believe in.”

Walumaq looks down at Noch. “Thank you, Saqatli,” she whispers aloud, her voice breaking. “I just… I worry that I’m not enough. That I can’t save Pachil.”

“You are more than enough,” I reply, my voice firm yet gentle. “And you are not alone. We are with you, every step of the way.”

Her gaze softens, and she seems to consider my words. Noch purrs again like a sound of approval, as if to say that we are on the right path.

“You have already inspired many,” I continue, feeling more confident. “Look at the warriors who now follow you, from different factions and different walks of life, the people who believe in your cause. That is not misplaced trust. That is your power as a uniter.”

She looks at me, tears welling in her eyes. But a small smile begins to form on her lips. “Perhaps you’re right,” she thinks. “Maybe it’s not about a strict path, but about the overall journey that the gods have set out for me to travel.”

Noch leaps into the arms of Walumaq — something I have never seen her do to anyone but me. But her presence seems to comfort the princess, who strokes the soft fur of the ocelot. “Thank you, Saqatli,” she thinks. “I needed to hear that.”

Relieved, I smile back. “We all need reassurance sometimes.”

Trekking through the Ulxa jungles is a curious experience, you should know. Though there is a tangle of vines and shadowed paths, the leaves above are not as thick, allowing beams of sunlight to pierce through and illuminate the vibrant, yet less imposing, greenery below. The trees are tall and ancient, but their branches do not intertwine as densely as in my homeland. Here, the underbrush is navigable, paths winding like serpents through the lush forest.

Back home, the jungles of Auilqa are a different beast. There, the air is thick and humid, like wading through warm water. The trees are giants, with their trunks covered in a thick layer of moss, and their branches home to countless birds and insects. The ground is soft underfoot, often muddy, and the foliage so dense, it can be like walking through a wall of green. Here, in the Ulxa jungles, it is quieter, almost reverent. The paths are clearer, the underbrush less aggressive. It is a world apart from the chaotic, vibrant life of Auilqa, and yet, in its own way, just as formidable.

We arrive at the first village, Acatzinco, located within a marshland. The mosquitos are relentless, swarming us as we make our way through. Small, wooden huts with straw thatched roofs dot the area, scattered randomly among the tall trees. The villagers look upon us warily, watching a group of outsiders from a wide variety of factions approach. It is only when they see Tlexnín that they shout to one another, announcing the arrival of their revered leader.

Tlexnín remains stoic while receiving a barrage of greetings and salutes. A path is cleared for us, flanked by Ulxa warriors in loincloths and spears held with their tips pointing skyward to the heavens. The Ulxa leader strides toward a large hut, bigger than three homes combined, with walls painted in bright colors of pink, yellow, and blue.

An elderly man emerges from the large hut, utilizing a long tree branch to assist him as he hobbles toward us at a near leisurely pace. His dark, tanned skin is weathered, having endured many dozens of long solar years on Pachil. Curiously, unlike the villagers and warriors, he does not show any warm expression toward the renowned leader.

The elder looks at Noch suspiciously, but I reach down and pet the ocelot, signaling that her presence is welcome. With eyes narrowed, he faces Tlexnín, stating, “It is never a good sign when the ruler of the Ulxa appears at a village as small as this.”

Tlexnín grunts an acknowledgement. “The Auilqa have attacked Analoixan when it was vulnerable, defending an assault made by a maniacal cult. We need to rally warriors to fight and reclaim our sacred capital.”’

“And how did Analoixan become uncharacteristically vulnerable?” the elder questions.

Tlexnín snarls. “We were under attack by a maniacal cult, the Eye in the Flames, who worship a demon-possessed version of Eztletiqa.”

“I am afraid that is not a concern with which we can help,” the elder says, frowning. Though I can only understand his words through the assistance of Noch, the tone and meaning behind his words is evident: he only feigns disappointment, but genuinely feels none. “We are a small village, with hardly enough warriors to defend it. Any warrior sent for your mission weakens our ability to protect ourselves.”

“You would defy a direct order from your ruler, the one chosen by the Itztecatl?” Tlexnín charges, incensed.

The villagers appear gravely concerned, muttering to one another. She is about to storm up to the elder, but is mercifully held back by Naqispi. “Perhaps it’s best for the cause if you don’t kill the leaders of your people’s villages, hmm?” he says.

“He is disobeying the ruler of his people!” she remarks. “The capital of his homeland, our people, is under duress, yet he refuses to aid in reclaiming it from invaders?”

Walumaq approaches, her face soft as she speaks gently. “His position is understandable. He doesn’t want to leave his village vulnerable to the same threats that attacked Analoixan. Perhaps there is a bigger village with a larger army that can help us, no?”

Tlexnín scowls. She is not pleased by being denied her request. Though I do not blame her, I can also understand the position of the elder. I am relieved that such a matter is not up for me to decide.

Noch begins purring once again, rubbing against my leg. Is she attempting to get my attention? For what purpose? I look down at her, her turquoise-tipped tail flicking about. She lifts up a paw and looks someplace to my left, as if she is pointing in that direction. Curious, I turn my head to see what she is referencing, wondering what she has spotted that we are overlooking.

You should know how relieved I am to be led away from the tense confrontation between Tlexnín and the elder. I find such conflict unsettling, and it makes me nervous. Perhaps Noch realizes this and is taking me some place more peaceful. She is so perceptive like that.

Noch suddenly darts off without a word, weaving through the gathered villagers. I yell for her to wait, desperately trying to keep up with her as I make my way between the small huts and through narrow paths. Villagers look at us suspiciously, but I make no eye contact with them, instead focusing on following Noch, and hoping no one picks a fight with me, being an outsider with amber eyes.

The ocelot suddenly stops at the edge of the village, her nose twitching as she sniffs the air. “I smell something… over here,” she says. Then, she begins to paw at a seemingly innocuous pile of dried leaves and brush.

“What is it, Noch?” I asks softly, crouching down to inspect the area. Brushing aside the leaves, I reveal a cleverly concealed trapdoor. Though it is heavy and requires all of my strengthI lift the door. It takes a moment for my eyes to see, but I find a small, hidden cellar.

“How did you find this place?” I ask, bewildered. She only looks at me blankly.

Slowly and carefully, I descend into the cellar. The light of the sun barely reaches inside this chamber, but once my eyes adjust, I begin to gradually see what is stored here: weapons and supplies of all kinds! Spears, bows, and arrows are neatly stacked and in excellent condition, along with crates of preserved food and medical supplies.

“You smelled the food, did you not?” I tease Noch. She says nothing, only giving me a cheeky look, but I am certain this must be the reason.

We race back to the group to tell them what we discovered. I try to announce the presence of the cellar, but Tlexnín and the elder are too embroiled in their battle to notice me.

Turning to Walumaq, I ask for her to help me. “Noch found something I believe will be of great benefit! But I cannot get their attention.”

The Sanqo princess nods, then approaches the quarreling Ulxa. She mutters something, and then I feel their eyes burning into me. My heart wants to leap out of my chest, their expressions are fierce. I calm myself with steady breaths, then wave them on to follow me.

A gathering of villagers begin swarming around us, staring into the cellar with stunned expressions. I hear the group of my companions deliberate, but it is in The Tongue of Merchants, and Noch is too distracted by the preserved foods to translate for me. After much convincing by me, she finally focuses on the discussion.

“You possessed all of these weapons, yet would deny me of warriors to help reclaim Analoixan?” Tlexnín chides the elder.

The elder raises his hands. “I did not know this was here!” he confesses. Tlexnín does not look as if she believes him, marching toward him in disgust.

Before she can continue to scold the village leader, Walumaq interferes, stepping between the two. “The weapons appear dusty, and though the food is dried and well-preserved, it is certainly not fresh. Perhaps this was left during the War of Liberation, or someone diligently stored these, but passed away before anyone else could be informed. We may never know. But the important thing is that we’ve discovered them now, and we can put them to great use.”

“With these supplies,” one of the Sanqo warriors speaks, “the villagers can arm themselves. They can defend the village while your warriors join us, to help Tlexnín reclaim Analoixan.”

The elder still does not appear convinced. “But these are villagers,” he responds. “Simple farmers and gatherers. It takes a lot of work to cultivate anything from these lands. Not only that, they do not possess the skill to fight and defend our village. You can give them all the weapons in Pachil, but they do not have the capabilities of our trained warriors who completed the Tepeyōllotl.”

One of the villagers steps forward. “We will learn. For too long, we have burdened our warriors to be the lone protectors of our village. If there is an outside threat powerful enough to weaken Analoixan, we must be ready.”

Another villager, this one not much older than me, speaks, “If we are taught how to properly use these weapons, we will help carry the burden of defending Acatzinco.”

Walumaq looks at the elder. “One of the warriors — your best, most experienced warrior — can lead the way and instruct them. Then, you will not only have a few dozen warriors to defend your village, but instead, an entire village that can defend itself!”

A stern, serious-looking man with broad shoulders, and a torso painted in green and yellow, steps forward. His square jaw is raised as he speaks with confidence. “For generations, my family has lived in Acatzinco. It would be a great honor to teach our people the ways of combat, to defend the village that my family has called ‘home’.”

“Then it is settled,” Tlexnín announces abruptly — and coldly. “Your remaining warriors will follow us to Analoixan, and you will have newly-trained warriors that come from your own village.”

The elder continues appearing reluctant, but ultimately concedes. “Very well,” he says, slightly somberly and defeated. “I will allow them to join your efforts to reclaim Analoixan. May the light of Wiqamasqa shine down upon you favorably.”

With that, we depart for the next village, with nearly a dozen Ulxa warriors marching alongside us. “I hope we find more success in the next village than the last,” Noch remarks. “And a place that is a little more amicable.” I could not agree more.

I continue to be astounded by the Ulxa landscape. We were once in a marshland not moments before, and now we arrive in a hilly countryside. It is far from any designated path, and we traverse rugged terrain for an extended period of time. The trees offer little respite, providing hardly any protection from the harsh sun, and sources for water become fewer and far between. Yet we press on, determined to rally support quickly to dispel the intruders from the Ulxa capital.

Pomaqli fights through the wound from which he is suffering. We have tried to mend it as best we could, contacting healers at every village at which we stop, hoping they will be able to cure him of his ailments. Unfortunately, no remedy has been found. Every so often, Walumaq checks with the Qiapu warrior, questioning whether he should carry on in his condition. Yet he persists, insisting that we will need his sword for the battle to come.

After nearly a full day of traveling, another village emerges from behind the rolling hills. ‘Tepexic’, Tlexnín says it is called.

“These Ulxa names are so much harsher than the names of other faction’s cities,” Chiqama notes. “There’s something about that sharp sound in your language that just feels so rough and unsettling to me.”

“The name of the village means ‘Place of Stone’,” Tlexnín explains. “It is a strong name.”

“And ugly-sounding name,” Naqispi rudely remarks.

You should know that it is true, the names are more distinct than those of cities in other factions that I have heard. Yet they are not too far from the names of Auilqa cities and villages, as well. Our languages have more abrupt and prominent sounds, certainly. Perhaps this is a common trait among the factions in what I understand to be the southernmost location of the continent, I do not know.

Needless to say, the next villages are much more receptive to the requests of Tlexnín, to the relief of both me and Noch. Though Tepexic could only offer a few more than a dozen warriors, the next village, Cuatepec — ‘Eagle Hill’, according to Tlexnín — granted us nearly three dozen warriors. It is encouraging to see our numbers swell, admiring how the army grows significantly in size, as we travel from village to village.

To Tlexnín, however, our numbers are completely insufficient.

One night, while taking a much-needed rest before traveling to the next village, the Ulxa warrior leader gazes upon the gathered army in disgust. “We should be more than twice this size,” she laments. I look at the almost five dozen warriors, and am impressed that we managed to rally this much support in so little time.

You should know that figures in a position of authority intimidate me. I do not like confrontation, and generally avoid any situation that involves the potential for conflict. Yet seeing the dejected ruler, someone who is seemingly never lacking for confidence, was upsetting.

Seeing her in such a state, however, I feel a pang of sympathy. We had all endured so much, and leading her people back to freedom appeared to weigh heavily upon her shoulders. I feel the need to speak to her, to offer words of encouragement. But the language barrier is a significant obstacle.

I approach Walumaq, who sits quietly by the fire. “Walumaq,” I begin, already regretting my disruption of her peaceful enjoyment of the warmth of the flames. “I need your help to speak with Tlexnín. She seems so… disheartened. I want to help lift her spirits, but I do not know her language, nor the Tongue of Merchants, well enough.”

Walumaq looks up at me, and a small smile plays on her lips. “Of course. What do you want to say to her?”

I glance over at Tlexnín, who stares into the night with a deeply-etched frown on her face. “I want to tell her that she has accomplished so much already. That these warriors we have gathered are ready to fight, ready to reclaim Analoixan. I want her to know that… her leadership is inspiring, and that we believe in her. Even if our numbers are not what she hoped for, the strength of her spirit and the loyalty of her people will make up for it.”

Walumaq nods thoughtfully. “Those are quite the wise words. I think she will most certainly appreciate your encouragement.” She stands and walks with me to where Tlexnín was sitting. As we approach, Tlexnín looks up, her eyes narrowing slightly in curiosity.

Walumaq speaks softly to her, conveying my message in the Tongue of Merchants. I watch Tlexnín’s face as she listens, her expression shifting from one of stern disappointment to one of quiet contemplation.

When Walumaq finishes, Tlexnín looks at me, her gaze intense. You should know that the look makes me feel as though I have made a grave error in assessing the situation. I want to run and hide, never to return to Ulxa. But then she speaks, and Walumaq translates.

“She says that she understands your words and appreciates them,” the Sanqo princess says to me. “She is frustrated because she feels she is failing her people. But your encouragement means a lot to her. She is grateful for your support and will continue to fight with renewed vigor.”

I nod, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. “Tell her that we are all in this together. That we will fight alongside her until Analoixan is free.”

Walumaq translates my words, and, surprisingly, Tlexnín’s expression softens. She places a hand on my shoulder, a rare gesture of camaraderie. She speaks again, and Walumaq smiles as she translates.

“She says that together is the only way we will reclaim Analoixan. And that with friends like you, she feels more confident in our success.”

The following morning, our journey becomes beyond pleasant. Perhaps I am perceiving matters from a position that is too optimistic, too positive, but it appears to me that each step we take is with more energy, more determination. There is more confidence, and our spirits have been lifted. But again, perhaps I am thinking wishfully. Noch says I tend to do that from time to time.

The final destination before turning back toward Analoixan is a great village, Ixtelocan. Since our time in the Ulxa capital, this is perhaps the largest village we have encountered. Located next to a vast crater lake from what I am told is an inactive volcano, the village is surrounded by farms that enjoy the rich soil; my feet sink quickly when stepping in the soft and fertile ground. The air is crisp and pleasant, and the clouds occasionally block the sun for a brief moment of relief.

We receive quite the attention — possessing an army the size of ours tends to have that effect. Everyone stops what they are doing to watch us approach and enter their village. At first, they hurry to retrieve weapons stored nearby, fearing they must defend their homes from foreign invaders. However, upon seeing Tlexnín stride through the village, an expressed relief washes over them, as they shout their admiration for the revered ruler.

A large wooden structure rests in the center of the village, surrounded by humble homes. While it possesses many similarities to other Ulxa structures — comprised of jagged pieces of wood with points like spears — it is not painted like other prominent Ulxa buildings. No, this one is draped in vines that cover the walls of the six-sided structure.

We are greeted by a man of small stature, with a soft, rounded chin and a slight gut. I believe he has started to go bald, though it is difficult for me to discern this with the elaborate headdress he wears, made from such a number of feathers that I grow concerned with the amount of birds that had to be killed to create it. Much like the purported name of the village — ‘The White Place’, Tlexnín indicated is its name, which elicited much snickering from Naqispi — the feathers and loin cloth that comprise the garments of the distinguished man are purely white, with no other colors.

He smiles widely, exposing a few missing teeth that have been replaced with that of a light wood. Tlexnín expresses no emotion regarding the greeting, instead offering a fist over her heart and a slight bow of the head.

“To what do we owe a visit from the chosen one of the Itztecatl and her grand army?” the man says with great flourish, eyeing the army that stands behind her, trying to mask his nervousness.

Tlexnín wastes no time with niceties. “We need to rally warriors. The Auilqa have attacked and claimed Analoixan while we were defending it from an assault made by a maniacal cult. We must fight and reclaim our capital.”

The smile never leaves the face of the village leader. “But of course!” he exclaims. “Anything for the — “

“Ixtelocan is a mighty village, with hills to aid in defending it,” Tlexnín interrupts. “I would… hope…” She emphasizes this part while looking at Walumaq, as though Tlexnín is showing that she is making a concerted effort to be more diplomatic, “that you can grant us your invaluable warriors for the cause.”

“But of course!” the village leader repeats. “Anything for the chosen one of the Itztecatl!”

“I do not care for this fellow,” Noch says to me. “He makes me want to pluck the wooden pieces crowding his other teeth.” I hold a hand to my mouth to stifle a laugh.

“Then the matter is settled,” Tlexnín announces. “You honor me greatly. We are grateful for the valiant warriors of the great village of Ixtelocan.”

In only a few heartbeats, the Ulxa warriors begin to assemble. It takes me a while to count, but if my calculations are correct, nearly three dozen join our ranks, putting our numbers close to one hundred! And that does not include the Sanqo warriors, the two Qiapu, and Walumaq! My heart swells as I see the accumulation of warriors gathered, and the strength of our army. Tlexnín strides with confidence as she inspects the warriors, visibly pleased by the display.

“No! No, this will not do!” The village leader suddenly remarks. He hurriedly rushes up to one of the warriors and attempts to pull the tall boy away from the line of warriors. He appears to be my age, perhaps younger, with a fierce look in his eyes. Despite the antics of the village leader, the determination never leaves the face of the boy.

“What’s going on?” Paxilche asks. Noch retreats behind my legs, occasionally peeking out to observe the disruption.

“I apologize, Great Tlexnín, but my son will not be joining your war efforts,” the village leader declares.

Tlexnín looks wary of this. “He is a capable warrior, is he not? You would not have him fight to protect and defend the capital of his homeland? You do him a dishonor.”

The boy nods vehemently. “The great leader is correct, father. I am a better fighter than most in this land, and I am ready to prove it. This is my chance, and I do not want the opportunity to escape me.”

“Then it is settled,’ Tlexnín says, though the expression on the face of the village leader seems to disagree.

“He will not go anywhere beyond the limits of Ixtelocan,” he says. “He has not partaken in the Tepeyōllotl. He has not shown that he is ready for such a campaign.”

“I have not participated in the trial because you do not allow me to leave the village, father!” the boy exclaims. Noch cowers behind me, feeling embarrassment for the intense exchange. You must know that I, too, feel uncomfortable. However, I confess I also feel saddened, knowing that my family would never want me around in the manner of this village leader and his son. I am rejected by my own parents, but this warrior does not suffer the same in regards to his father, who wants his son to remain close and within the limits of the village.

“You are the heir to my rule here in Ixtelocan, and I will not see you needlessly risk your life so that I lose my only heir!” the father and village leader shouts.

Tlexnín has clearly had enough of this exchange. “You two will settle this matter on your own time. I have a capital that I need to reclaim. I do not have time for familial quarrels.”

She immediately walks away, leaving the father and son to talk among themselves. The rest of us are most definitely uncomfortable, and we slowly remove ourselves from the situation. I feel as though I should say something, but it is not my place to intervene. I can only hope that they come to an agreement, but compromise typically does not leave both parties feeling satisfied.

Thankfully, we begin our march out of Ixtelocan. The village leader does not bid us farewell, as is a general practice we have seen from the leaders of these villages. But given the circumstances, I understand, and it appears Tlexnín does not take offense to this otherwise perceived slight.

We do not make it far before Noch perks up, alarmed by something. I ask her what she hears, but she does not respond, instead looking behind us. I alert Walumaq that Noch senses danger, and she subtly gets the attention of Atoyaqtli to help us investigate the disturbance.

We wave on the others, indicating that we will signal if we are in any trouble. While the others, such as Paxilche, do not seem pleased by this, they continue on, not wanting to needlessly concern everyone if the matter turns out to be nothing. They are not far, yet I feel isolated and alone, standing with Walumaq and Atoyaqtli.

A rustling in the bushes causes me and Noch to jump. She hisses, standing with her back arched and claws out. Atoyaqtli draws his sword, and I stand behind Walumaq, who takes cautious steps toward the noise. My breath comes in quick, short bursts as I nervously watch the developing scene. Could it just be another animal, perhaps a bird? Or is it something more dangerous, more predatory?

Before I can reach out with my abilities to speak to the creature, a man leaps from the bushes, frantically wiping himself off from something clinging to his loincloth. His sword clatters with his armor as he brushes away leaves and twigs stuck to his sweaty skin. When he turns around, I immediately recognize who this is.

“You,” I say, unable to get many other words out in the Tongue of Merchants.

Atoyaqtli points his sword at the boy. But I try to calm him and indicate the boy is not a threat, gesturing to put away his sword. Thankfully, Walumaq understands my gestures and appears to verbally relay this to her trusted Sanqo warrior. As he sheathes his sword, I hear Walumaq ask, “who might you be?”

“I am Noyolotzi,” he introduces himself. “I am here to provide my sword to the one chosen by the Itztecatl.”

“You’re…” Walumaq slowly pieces it together. “You’re the village leader’s son, aren’t you?”