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“What is he doing here?” I ask, surprised to see the son of the village leader from Ixtelocan.
The Sanqo goddess and her honorable warrior gain my attention as I lead my warriors from the front, only to present the boy without speaking. The young Auilqa boy who speaks to animals stands meekly behind them, like a coward, peeking out to gauge my reaction.
“I am Noyolotzi, and I am here to provide my sword to the one chosen—“
“If I recall correctly,” I interrupt the boy, “your father did not want you to join my army. Yet here you stand, in defiance of his command.”
The boy squares his shoulders, confidently meeting my gaze. “The commands of my father are driven by fear for my safety. He believes I should stay protected within the village, but I cannot stand by while our land and people are threatened. I have trained with the village warriors and honed my skills. I want to fight for our freedom and our future.”
“I do not want warriors who blatantly disregard orders, simply because they disagree with them,” I state. “That shows a disobedient warrior. Why would I want someone joining my army who is known to disrespect his elders, his superiors, those who give commands?”
The eyes of the boy flash with a resolve that only comes with the inexperience of youth. “My defiance is not born of disrespect. It is born of necessity and a desire to protect my people with all of the strength I possess. The fear of my father cannot keep me from doing what is right. I want to prove my worth—to you and to my village.”
There is something inside of me, something instinctual, that does not want me to allow this boy to defy the wishes of his father and join my army. Yet I recall a time when I was his age, once long ago, seeking the respect of those I held in high regard. I, too, wanted to prove my worth and value to my people, to honor the gods with my skills and defend the Ulxa. Though I may disagree with how this boy has attempted to join my army, I cannot disregard the noble motivation behind it.
“You are foolish to go against the orders of your father,” I say, causing the boy to feel despondent—and rightfully so. “However, these are desperate and dire times for Ulxa. We will need every brave warrior to eliminate the threat that has invaded our land and stolen our capital.”
With that, I make my way back to the front of the marching army. Apparently, my decision does not please the Sanqo goddess. To capture my attention, she dares to touch my shoulder in a manner that is far too comfortable, and looks up to meet my eyes.
“While I greatly respect your opinion,” the Sanqo goddess says in a near whisper, “I don’t think it’s wise to bring the boy along with us into the dangerous situation we’re about to enter. I’m not sure he has enough experience, and it will be potentially perilous. Perhaps we should—“
“This is a matter that concerns you not,” I charge, looking at her questionably. “The boy has made his choice, and if he is old enough to hoist a spear, he is old enough to be of great use to our cause.”
“But his father doesn’t want him to join,” the Sanqo goddess says, sounding weak as she pleads with me. “I don’t think he—“
“It is not a decision in which your thinking is required,” I inform her. “I am the ruler of the Ulxa, and this is an Ulxa matter. If he honorably fights for our cause, the gods will ensure that he is protected, as we all will be. Or, he dies an honorable death—one that guarantees his spirit ascends to the heavens where fallen warriors are celebrated for their valor and sacrifice.”
The Sanqo goddess appears unhappy about this. I am confused. “Perhaps you do not understand that to die in combat is the greatest honor bestowed upon an Ulxa warrior,” I attempt to explain, believing she is simply unaware of Ulxa tradition. “Should he die in battle, he will sit gloriously among the gods. I do not understand why you continue to appear upset.”
At this, the Sanqo goddess walks away, shaking her head. I was under the impression the Sanqo also value battle, deeming themselves great warriors. I would have thought they would respect how we, in turn, respect and value our warriors should they die in war. Because of this, her attitude confuses me. However, I refuse to concern myself with it, as there are more pressing matters to which I must tend.
The terrain begins to flatten, and the appearance of trees returns to the landscape. We have traveled further from the hilly countryside of Ixtelocan and are getting threateningly close to Analoixan. The time for battle draws near, just as the sun is halfway finished with its journey across the sky.
The leader of the Sanqo warriors suggests we set up a camp out of sight of Analoixan, giving us an opportunity to strategize. He speaks wisely, so I command my warriors to follow his instruction, and then I join him and the outsiders to craft a coherent plan.
Since the assault on Analoixan, my trusted advisors and leaders have either been captured or killed. It has been difficult to replace them, but the Sanqo warriors and the one named Pomaqli have been valuable resources and a wealth of information. Discussing tactics with them has been enlightening, learning new techniques and strategies. But they are too valuable to send on a scouting mission.
As such, I gather the most experienced warriors from the various villages. Though fewer in number from what I am accustomed to, these warriors have a deep understanding of the land and the instincts needed for such a task. They know the terrain, and their loyalty to the Ulxa cause is unwavering.
The enlisted warriors are about to depart when I am startled by a blur rushing towards me. The warriors hold their swords and spears at the figure, ready to strike down the threat. But they quickly lower their weapons upon recognizing the warrior.
“Great Tlexnín,” the young boy speaks. Upon recognizing the voice, I am immediately irritated. Yet he continues, “I would like to join the scouting effort, if it pleases you. It would be a great opportunity to expand upon my skills in regards to such an operation.”
Reflexively, I roll my eyes. “You lack the experience to be an effective scout, and the risks are too great to send out someone so unseasoned.”
“That can be corrected if I join them,” he responds eagerly. I find his excitement grating. “I wish to learn from the skillful warriors to be of better service to you. I will never leave their side, and diligently follow their direction.”
I would respect and admire the determination of this boy if I did not find it so tremendously annoying. He is overly motivated and excitable, which can only mean he will not have the required patience and level head to be effective in this mission. But during the trek to Analoixan, and while we traveled from village to village to rally more warriors, I learned of how experienced these warriors are, and how much wisdom they could impart on such a warrior. They could pass down invaluable knowledge upon this young warrior, who has displayed that he is eager to learn.
With a single grunt and a nod, the boy understands I have, against my better judgement, accepted his request. To his praise, he does not hint at any emotion, nodding in acknowledgement, then awaits his orders. One of the veteran warriors from Tepexic volunteers to take him under his wing, and the young warrior follows behind vigilantly.
With everyone gathered, I start the meeting without haste. “We should overwhelm their numbers at the gate. We know the city well, and can use this knowledge to best direct our warriors to attack key weaknesses in the defenses of the city.”
The Qiapu warrior named Pomaqli frowns, considering my proposal. He carefully holds the bandages of his wounded ribs as he speaks. “Overwhelming them would be effective at one key location. But if their forces are located at various places around the city, they could close in on our single location and counterattack more effectively.”
“Not if they are taken by surprise,” I counter. “If they are not expecting our assault, we can catch them at their most vulnerable. Strike swiftly, strike efficiently, and we cut through their warriors before they have a chance to mount a defense.”
Pomaqli shakes his head. “But if we focus all of our efforts on one location, and move through the city as a single unit, that leaves us exposed to attacks from various points. Until the scouts return, we won’t know where their defenses are posted. If they’re spread far and wide around the city, our concentrated forces could be vulnerable to attacks from all sides.”
“Then what do you propose?” I scoff, my patience wearing thin.
“We should establish certain points where we can ambush the unsuspecting enemy,” he suggests. “We can use ranged attacks to draw the enemy out to us, then strike from positions we determine and from a place of advantage.”
“Consider the swarm of wasps,” I say, now pacing about the space. “Individually, a wasp may sting, but it is when they swarm together that they become truly formidable, overwhelming any adversary with their relentless and coordinated attack. If the wasps were to scatter, their strength would be diluted, their sting less effective. We must embody the spirit of the swarm. By striking together, we become a fierce, unified force, capable of breaking through any defense with the precision and power of a single, unstoppable entity.”
Pomaqli nods slowly, clearly still thinking through the implications. “I understand what you’re trying to say, but if we strike in one place, we risk becoming trapped and surrounded. And our numbers are too small to withstand such an attack. An ambush allows us to dictate the terms of engagement. We sow chaos, making them believe we’re everywhere.”
The Sanqo warrior named Atoyaqtli steps forward, stroking the stubble on his chin. “Both of you have valid points. But what if we cut off their supply lines first? Starve them of resources, create internal strife. This would weaken them significantly before we even launch an attack.”
“Cutting off supply lines would indeed weaken them,” I agree, “but it might take time for the results to appear—time we may not have if they can fortify their positions.”
“And we may not need to sever supply lines if we attack quickly enough,” Pomaqli adds.
The Sanqo goddess now steps forward. With knitted brows, she says, “What if we join all our ideas into a single, cohesive plan?”
“What do you mean?” Pomaqli asks.
“Well,” the Sanqo goddess begins, a bit hesitantly, “I am no combat strategist, and I lack the combined experience of those around the table by dozens of harvests. But… given our limited numbers, what if we ambush them, but ambush their supply line, when they send out people to hunt or gather food? We use that attack to draw out the enemy, as a means of enticing them to investigate what is happening. Then, we use guerrilla tactics to strike their unsuspecting targets. Once we’ve weakened them, we overwhelm their now-vulnerable defenses that have just suffered a blow to their numbers, using our knowledge of the city’s layout for targeted attacks.”
Atoyaqtli considers this, then nods. “A coordinated effort like this could work. We weaken them first, then hit them hard and fast. It’s a risky plan, but it might be our best option.”
The others murmur among themselves, then eventually nod in agreement. Our strategy seems sound, one that should give us the best possibility of success.
As we are about to part ways for the evening, the scouts return. They show no expression, maintaining a stoic demeanor. From appearances alone, I cannot tell whether their mission was successful, or if they encountered trouble that hindered any progress. But from a cursory glance, it appears all have returned, praise be to the gods.
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“Great Tlexnín,” one of the veteran warriors—I believe his origin is Cuatepec—addresses me. “We were able to identify numerous locations of the warriors guarding the perimeter. They appear to rotate periodically, with a limited number on patrol, leaving brief moments where their position is vulnerable.”
“Additionally,” another warrior speaks—this one from Acatzinco, “the Auilqa have begun constructing makeshift walls to fortify their positions. However, the construction is new, and they are not as secure as appearances imply.”
“Excellent,” I remark. “We will use this information to coordinate with our ambush of the supply lines.”
“There is one significant issue,” the young boy named Noyolotzi interjects. Though I find it rude that he speaks above his superior, there is an urgency in his stance that I cannot ignore. I signal for him to speak, after which he says, “We identified the existence of enslaved Ulxa villagers among the guards. I believe they are using the presence of these slaves as a barrier, should they be under attack.”
I feel my lips form an involuntary scowl. “So they are using our people as a shield,” I state rhetorically. “The Auilqa invaders have no honor. They must pay for their cowardice.”
“I don’t think this takes away from our main plan,” the one who typically remains silent called Pomacha says. “In fact, it presents us with an opportunity.” Seeing our confused faces, he explains, “We will be unable to attack with reckless abandon. However, if we can free the enslaved villagers, we can expand our ranks, adding more capable fighters to aid us in reclaiming the city each instance we release them from captivity. Even those lacking experience or skills can be useful, helping us to free more enslaved villagers.”
We nod silently, absorbing his words. “That is a bold and unexpected suggestion,” I say, slightly admiring this proposal. “It will require careful precision and coordination, but if we can coordinate a rescue mission to free the enslaved villagers, it could turn the tide in our favor. However, we need to ensure that their safety is our top priority.”
“I agree,” Atoyaqtli chimes in. “We can use the terrain to our advantage and stage a diversion to draw the guards away from the villagers. While they’re distracted, a smaller, agile team can move in to free them.”
“As long as we’re cautious and act swiftly, their liberation could cause chaos within the Auilqa ranks,” Pomaqli notes. “That will make it easier for our main force to strike.”
The Sanqo warrior named Naqispi smirks. “Well, look who’s got a brain behind that quiet exterior,” he playfully jabs.
“Very well,” I conclude, after rolling my eyes from the remarks that come from Naqispi. “After the ambush and upon overwhelming the Auilqa warriors at the city limits, we will divide our forces. Atoyaqtli, you will lead the diversion unit. Since this was your plan, Pomacha, you will guide the rescue team with Walumaq and Saqatli. Pomaqli, coordinate with the scouts to ensure we move at the right moment. Let us show the Auilqa what true strength looks like.”
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We wait until nightfall to strike. Though I wanted to attack in daylight, when the enemy would least expect it, the others determined it would be wiser to utilize the cover of darkness due to our limited resources and number of warriors. I am frustrated, but only because I know they are logical and correct in their assessment, and I want to execute the plan, liberating Analoixan, as soon as possible.
Analoixan lies deep within Ulxa territory, far from Auilqa reach. Still, a winding path snakes through the jungles, leading east to the Maiu Atiniuq that splits our lands. It takes nearly a dozen days just to reach the river, with more days ahead to find the nearest Auilqa village.
Likely, they are gathering resources around Analoixan, waiting for reinforcements. I know these lands, where they would hunt or fell trees for lumber. I point in the direction I expect their workers to be, ready for confrontation. Most of the army stays behind to guard our rear. Shrouded by night, the rest of us slip toward the hunting grounds.
Laughter and jovial conversation betray their position. As anticipated, a score of Auilqa—perhaps a little over a dozen—clean the hides of their latest kill. They are nearly finished with their task, and will return to their people soon with their bounty. We must act quickly. I signal a team of warriors to move in silently. I hang back, watching them close in on the enemy, ready to pounce.
Silence shatters as they strike. The warriors move like shadows, swift and deadly. A spear flashes in the moonlight, finding its mark in the chest of an Auilqa warrior. He falls without a sound. Another warrior lunges, a dagger gleaming before it slices through the night, through flesh. The faces of the enemy shift from joyous to horror in an instant.
With a blade in each hand, one of our warriors leaps from the underbrush, carving a path through the confusion. I advance, my focus narrowing on a tall figure who seems to be shouting orders, trying to rally his men. With a calculated timing, I hurl my dagger. It spins through the air, embedding itself in his shoulder. He staggers, cries out, and crumples to the ground. Soon, he is met by two Ulxa warriors, who finish the task and end the warrior’s life.
The night is alive with the clash of obsidian on leather armor and the desperate cries of the Auilqa. Our warriors press the advantage, driving the enemy back, deeper into the darkness. Soon, the ground beneath us is stained with blood, the scent of its metallic tang thick in the air. The Auilqa who thought to carve our lands for their needs now lie broken and defeated. We spare no enemy warrior, not wanting them to flee into our jungles. Our message has been sent. Now, to see how the Auilqa respond.
We return to the rest of the army, hidden in the depths of the jungles. There has been no new events or any sudden, alarming changes in their movements, they inform me. The routines of which our scouts learned appear to continue unimpeded. All is going according to plan.
Exercising patience, we hold our positions, waiting for the Auilqa to realize their companions have not returned. Surprisingly, it takes most of the night for them to figure out something is amiss. Have they let down their defenses, believing the battle was won? Little do they know, it is far from over.
Once they eventually—finally—discover that their comrades have gone missing, a small band of warriors emerges from their partially constructed confines. The walls appear flimsy enough for us to destroy when we storm their fortifications. However, we must properly execute the next stage of our plan first.
As the moon casts a silvery glow over the decimated city, I crouch among the tangled vines and dense foliage. The makeshift fortifications of the Auilqa loom like grotesque creatures against the skeletal shadow of what was once our beloved city. But tonight, the tide turns.
The Auilqa emerge, a small band venturing out, unsuspecting of the ambush awaiting them. I signal to Paxilche, who raises his hands to the sky, summoning dark clouds that rumble ominously. Thunder cracks like a war drum, masking the rustle of our movements as we get into position.
Atoyaqtli motions to his Sanqo warriors. We move quickly, surrounding the unsuspecting Auilqa. Pomacha and Chiqama move with feline grace, slipping through the shadows to flank the enemy. Naqispi and Atoyaqtli wait for my command, blades gleaming dully in the moonlight.
“Now!” My voice, a fierce whisper, cuts through the rumbling thunder. We surge forward, a tidal wave of fury and vengeance.
Pomacha strikes first, his axe a blur as it finds its mark. The Auilqa warrior crumples without a sound. Chiqama rains down arrows, while Naqispi and Atoyaqtli engage the remaining scouts in a flurry of steel and blood. Caught off guard, the Auilqa fall quickly, their cries swallowed by the storm. They never stood a chance.
We move on to the flimsy walls of their fortifications. The rest of my warriors surge forward, breaching the barriers with ease. With the walls unprotected, we storm into the heart of the enemy camp. Now fully alerted to our presence, the Auilqa scramble to mount a defense.
As we press forward, I catch sight of the enslaved Ulxa villagers, huddled together. Rage boils within me at the sight of their broken spirits, how the Auilqa could do this to my people. As we were informed, they are tied together and being used as human shields. They are placed between us and the Auilqa archers, who loose arrows in our direction.
I motion to Pomacha, directing him to free my people. He, along with the Sanqo goddess and Saqatli, with Noch faithfully by his side, break off from the main group. They disappear amidst the calamity of battle. I say a silent prayer to the gods to guide and protect them.
I focus on the battle at hand, slicing through Auilqa warriors like overgrown vines. Paxilche unleashes his fury, the storm intensifying as lightning strikes down enemies in blinding flashes. There are some Ulxa warriors caught in the maelstrom, jolted by an electrifying current. May the gods protect and heal them. Meanwhile, the remaining Sanqo warriors fight alongside us. Their movements and coordinated strikes are well practiced, and I envy the seamlessness in which they fight together.
I charge forward, my spear a natural extension of my body. My warriors fight beside me, their vibrant battle cries unleashing a fury that strikes fear into our unsuspecting foes. I thrust my spear into the torso of one enemy. I pull it back, then slash to my side. My swipe catches my next attacker just in time. As she brings her sword down, her body is met by my blade, ripping through her painted, exposed chest. I twirl the spear in my hands, lifting the shaft high, then ram it forward upon the felled foe.
There is a shout. Someone calls my name. I look over my shoulder. A blur of movement rushes toward me. There is no time to think. I grab the obsidian sword of the fallen Auilqa warrior, then contort my body and hastily raise the weapon up. It shields my face from the incoming attack. The Auilqa warrior slams down his sword. It trails down my weapon, down to the hilt, slicing my hands.
I grimace in pain, my knuckles shredded into a bloody mess. But my attacker is vulnerable. He is twisted down and away from me. Seizing the opportunity, I gnash my teeth and fight through the anguish, bring the sword up, and thrust it at his exposed ribs. The black blades slice through his body, leaving a trail of scarlet all the way to his spine. He writhes in agony, but I show no mercy. With a mighty swing, I slash his neck. His warm lifeblood spurts out onto my arms and face as he falls to the ground.
Through the melee, I catch glimpses of Pomacha and the others working to free our people. The Sanqo goddess twirls her fingers in the air, drawing water from the very terrain to create a barrier that shields the villagers from the fray. Saqatli and Noch move swiftly, appearing to speak softly to the frightened captives in an attempt to calm and reassure them. Moving with lightning speed, Pomacha cuts through the bindings that hold our people captive.
“Push forward!” I command, and my warriors rush toward the great temple. We drive the Auilqa back, step by agonizing step. The ground beneath us is slick with rain and blood, but we do not falter. Analoixan will be ours again.
I retrieve my spear, Cēyōtl, and fight my way through the throng of enemies. I move with the agility of a jaguar, pouncing on every warrior who dares challenge me. Each Auilqa warrior that falls is a step closer to victory.
The Auilqa regroup. They retreat to a gate that guards the great temple. I am joined by the Sanqo warrior leader, who looks upon the scene with grave concern. “That will be much more difficult to get through,” he laments.
“The Ulxa have built the fortifications to be tough and sturdy,” I agree, “but the Auilqa do not know how to properly defend it.” A knowing smirk forms on my lips. The one named Atoyaqtli looks at me questioningly, and I wave for him to follow me.
“Hold the line!” I shout, signaling to my warriors to keep the focus of the Auilqa on them. They nod, then begin loosing spears and arrows at the enemy. The Auilqa are forced to take shelter, haplessly trying to shield themselves from the incoming onslaught.
“What are you doing?” the Qiapu named Paxilche asks, curious.
I say simply, “You will see.” Along with a vulpine grin, I point to my warriors, commanding, “Do what you must to protect the Ulxa and keep the Auilqa focused on you. When you see the gate open, have the warriors rush through.”
Paxilche appears confused, but I trust he will understand when the time comes. There is no time to spare. Atoyaqtli and I sprint to the side of the gate. Arrows fly toward us, descending from above. We zig and zag, dancing around the grounds until we reach the wooden wall.
“Take out the archers,” I instruct him. He nods, then hurtles a spear up toward the top of the wall. The blade finds its target, and the Auilqa archer tumbles from the sky, landing beside us with a tremendous thunk. It is a jarring sound, but also one of relief; that is one fewer threat that could hinder my success.
The mechanism by the wooden gate is an array of gears and levers, designed to withstand an assault. Massive wooden beams are interlocked with iron cogs that were constructed in Qiapu, connected to a central pulley system that controls the movement of the gate. Large stone blocks act as counterweights, suspended by thick ropes. This balances the massive weight of the gate, making it possible to lift or lower it.
I approach the mechanism, my hands steady despite the chaos surrounding me. I unsheathe the sword of the fallen archer. With swift, decisive strikes, I sever the ropes supporting the counterweights. It takes several tries, but eventually, the stone blocks crash to the ground. The gate shudders as the balance is disrupted. But now, the Auilqa are drawn to the sound, and my pulse quickens, fearing the barrage of arrows we are likely to face.
I must act fast. I move to the gears, jamming the blade of the obsidian sword between the cogs. I wrench it sideways, the metal shrieking as the gears grind to a halt. The massive wooden beams begin to shift. I call to Atoyaqtli to aid me in this final step of the plan. With one last push, we disable the main lever, causing the gate to groan and slowly descend. It falls to the ground, shattering and splintering from the sudden impact. But the gate is open, exposing the temple beyond.
There is another resounding war cry. The ground trembles, but it is not from the thunder crafted by Paxilche. No, it is the storm of Ulxa warriors, flooding the gates and rushing onto the grounds of the temple. There is no where else for the Auilqa to run. Their resistance crumbles quickly, and there will be no reinforcements to aid them when the battle is over—we have made certain of this.
The Ulxa warriors dispatch all remaining Auilqa. As they do so, I guide our motley assembly, a patchwork of individuals from disparate factions, onto the sacred grounds of the temple. No enemy can remain in Analoixan. We must ensure that the city is ours once again.
In the short time of their abbreviated rule, the Auilqa have already begun desecrating our sacred temple. Emeralds, turquoise, and jade that once decorated the grounds have been removed, likely stolen as spoils of war. A number of the terracotta tiles have been smashed to pieces. My blood boils at the sight of this destruction, and I am eager to make the Auilqa pay.
But as we move deeper into the temple grounds, something feels… off. An unnatural, flickering blue light dances in the distance. Then, I hear it: an ominous chanting in a dark tongue. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The realization dawns on me slowly, and a creeping dread settles in my bones.
“We have walked into a trap,” I mutter, my grip tightening on my spear.
Shadowy figures in dark crimson robes emerge from the depths of the temple. The real enemy stands before us now, ready to unleash their worst upon us. The Eye in the Flame is here, and the true battle is about to begin.