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The relief is palpable as we leave the chamber, departing for Teqosa’s home to reconvene and plan our way forward. Although the day is still in its infancy, the group fights through their exhaustion, knowing there is much more to achieve today. We may have won the battle, but the war is far from over.
The guards around this ‘Great Library’, cloaked in the black and gold of Qantua, mill about the high, dull, gray walls. The height of these stone structures makes me feel minuscule and inferior, as if my presence is a mere drop in a vast sea. The chill in the air brushes my skin, causing a shiver throughout my body. Mexqutli offers me his cape, but I refuse, not wanting to be indebted to him, and not wanting to appear weak.
Perhaps it’s exhaustion that causes me to imagine a looming shadowy figure, hovering about the gate, standing out in their black garments amidst the bustling residents wearing neutral-colored tunics and capes. Their long, flowing cape flaps in the cold wind like a raven's wing slicing through the daylight, and the hood shrouds the identifying features of their face. Is this an ally of Taqsame coming to see us off? Is something more sinister at hand with this character? My instincts tell me to confront this person and challenge them directly. I take a half-step forward, every fiber of my being attuned to this potential threat.
Suddenly, a loud crash echoes nearby, followed by an uproar of voices. Startled, I snap my head towards the commotion. A few paces away, a cart laden with water vessels has been overturned, its contents spilling onto the ground and causing a tiny flood. People scramble to collect the precious water, shouting and jostling one another. Mexqutli, standing nearest to the disaster, seems to be at the center of the calamity, looking flustered as he tries to help.
"By the stars, Mexqutli! Can't you keep out of trouble for a single moment?" I exclaim, torn between amusement and exasperation. I approach to assist, hoisting the vessels up and back onto the cart, despite many protests by Mexqutli and Sianchu to let the men do the lifting. They’re surprisingly heavy—the first container’s weight catches me off-balance initially, but I’m able to raise it up to my shoulders and carry it back to the owner, then proceed to do the same with the other dropped jug-like items.
“I’ve always got to clean up your messes,” I tease the two men, who still appear astonished at how easily I was able to lift the water vessels. I’ve grown so accustomed to being underestimated that I hardly notice it anymore, marking it down as just another instance.
By the time the scene gets under control, I remember to glance back at the entrance of the Great Library. To my dismay, the mysterious observer has vanished without a trace. I scan the area for the unmistakable black hooded cape, but all that surrounds us are the residents of Hilaqta going about their business. Mexqutli inquires about my scowl, but I brush off his concerns and proceed to Teqosa’s residence.
I feel nearly claustrophobic as I walk through the rigid homes constructed of stone and wood, all tightly packed together. While I understand Hilaqta is built this way due to the limited space, I’ve become so accustomed to the openness of Iantana that anything which isn’t spread out seems as though it’s going to cave in on me. Add to that the crowded streets with people seemingly appearing from everywhere—I’ve never seen this many people in one place since the battlefield. My chest is compressing and I find it difficult to breathe, but it isn’t until we manage to turn a corner and spot Teqosa’s home that I stop tensing up. Mexqutli gives me a curious look, but I ignore it and breeze past him, quickly entering the abode.
As the three of us wait for Teqosa and Upachu’s arrival, I look at the respected veteran warrior’s valuables. It isn’t long before I take stock in them all, due to the minimal amount, and I feel a certain respect for his pared-down approach to possessions. Other than the bare essentials, there is a wall in his room that is lined with various weapons: a glaive, two swords with their sharp bronze blades and simple hilts, an unadorned axe, a club with several protruding spikes, and two daggers with basic handles. I soon observe he has more weapons than furniture or household items. I don’t know whether to be concerned or impressed.
“Your ‘friend’,” Mexqutli notes, stressing the word ‘friend’ with a pointed emphasis, “does not appear to share the same sense of camaraderie as you, Sianchu.”
“What are you implying, Iqsuwa?” Sianchu returns the taunt of titles. “It was a particularly stressful period. Teqosa has a lot to deal with. So, frankly, I understand any brevity of conversation. I’d prefer to receive the same treatment from you.”
“All that I am saying,” Mexqutli says, hands raised in feigned surrender, “is that you do not appear to have as many allies as you may believe. You should perhaps take stock in your relationships.”
With a discontented sigh, I say, “Children, could we halt the squabbling while we’re in Hilaqta, please?” The two scowl at one another, and though it’s likely they have plenty more to say, they manage to remain silent while it’s just the three of us. There’s an unsettling steadiness as we wait, like a calm before a storm, and suddenly I’m eager to have the two bicker again to distract me from my thoughts.
After quite some time, Teqosa eventually arrives with Upachu and he startles, seemingly forgetting we would be here when he was finished with his obligations at the Great Library. I let out a small chuckle, unable to successfully stifle it with my hand, which draws a few glares from Sianchu and Teqosa. Fortunately, Upachu joins me in the laughter, which alleviates the tense atmosphere enough to begin our discussion.
“Our fearless warrior returns,” Upachu remarks as he presents his companion, now eliciting more laughter from everyone in the room. Teqosa frowns, which I have come to believe is his only facial expression.
“A warrior who boldly stood before his young rival and was able to sway the council,” Mexqutli says. “That is no easy feat.”
Teqosa doesn’t appear to take the flattery well, his cheeks becoming flushed red at the compliments. But Mexqutli is correct, that it’s admirable how Teqosa was able to bring the council on our side to fight the Eye in the Flame. I doubt I would have fared so well if I were in his position.
Eager to move the attention away from himself, Teqosa says, “While it's heartening to see the council align with our mission, confronting the cultists will be a difficult endeavor. If they're known to be in multiple territories, who knows where else their influence has reached. We will need to act swiftly to stop their progress.”
“How many Qantua warriors do you believe will join the cause?” Sianchu asks in a businesslike manner.
Upachu answers, “I will have to confer with the quipus to obtain the precise numbers, but we should be able to contribute approximately 1,200 to 1,500 warriors, by my estimations.”
“That does not sound like many,” Mexqutli says with a deep concern on his face. “The Eye in the Flame may have that number in a single territory.”
Teqosa tilts his head slightly. "A true Iqsuwa would know that a smaller, well-trained force can triumph over larger numbers. Isn't that part of your philosophy, Mexqutli?"
Mexqutli hesitates, caught off guard. He struggles for a moment, then mutters, "Well, yes, but there is a difference between facing a slightly larger force and one that might outnumber us two- or threefold.”
I’m struck by Mexqutli's odd uncertainty, which is unlike that of a seasoned Iqsuwa warrior. Though my encounters with such warriors has been limited, I recall the quiet confidence in their combat abilities, with a large emphasis on outsmarting one’s opponent rather than relying on outmuscling them. They must spend countless seasons learning the ways of strategy and tactics, much like students of the esteemed Maqanuiache.
“We must consider the security of Qantua,” Sianchu responds, which interrupts my contemplation, “in case any army of the cultists attempts to attack the people here. Like many factions in Pachil, they are rebuilding their ranks and don’t have many warriors to spare. But I believe, with good leadership and organization, this number should be sufficient.”
“Frankly, I fear it might not be enough,” Teqosa says. “Though the end of the War of Liberation was nearly a harvest ago, it takes time to recover from the loss of life we, like many factions, have suffered. Yet, although it’s a discomforting thought, the threat of the Eye in the Flame is too great to be conservative in the number of warriors we supply. The loss of life could be greater if we don’t confront them directly.”
“And who do you presume will lead these warriors?” Mexqutli asks, not sounding overly convinced of the plan.
“Well, Teqosa, of course,” Sianchu says, as if there was no other logical answer.
“Might I recommend,” Teqosa says, capturing everyone’s undivided attention, “that we combine the efforts of Sianchu’s leadership, having experience with the significant Tapeu military, and Mexqutli and Inuxeq’s knowledge of the Eye in the Flame’s tactics.”
I’m about to object to this when Mexqutli asks, “And why will you not be leading the men? Why will you not be partaking in the annihilation of the cultists?”
Glancing briefly at Upachu, Teqosa says, “I must attend to other matters, but they could very well assist in combating the Eye in the Flame.”
“What ‘other matters’?” I ask, curious as to what could be more important than taking the fight directly to our enemy, a strategy Teqosa has been arguing for the whole time. I glance over to Upachu to see if his face gives away any hint, but he remains stone-faced during this discussion.
“While I must remain tight-lipped due to some in Hilaqta, or even some on the council, possibly being involved with the Eye in the Flame, I can assure you that what I can achieve through its resolution will go a long way in our fight of this evil,” Teqosa says. “I’m afraid I must ask for your trust in this.”
At first, Sianchu and Mexqutli appear unconvinced and consider challenging his proposal, but reluctantly accept Teqosa’s request eventually. I, on the other hand, am uncertain of this entire situation. In the brief time I've known Teqosa, he's been nothing but direct, always in control. Now, he steps aside, leaving the weight of this battle on our shoulders. ”I must attend to other matters…” His voice plays back in my mind, raising more questions than answers. Why isn’t he leading this charge against the Eye in the Flame?
I search his face, trying to catch a flicker of doubt or second-guessing, but there's nothing—just a deep, unnerving calm. Is there a move I'm not seeing? An unspoken strategy in play? Or maybe, and the thought humbles me, he genuinely believes in us, thinking we're ready to lead.
There's no way to be sure of his motives, but I won't be deterred. Regardless of his reasons, I'll rise to the challenge and won't let him down—or my people.
With the matter decided, the men depart the humble home, carrying on fractured pieces of the conversation as they’re escorted out by Teqosa. I, however, decide to stay back, curious about this Qantua warrior and councilman. Sianchu glances at me with a curious look, but I wave him away and give him a reassuring smile. After a shrug, he continues walking off with the other three gentlemen, and eventually the others get lost amongst the countless bodies carrying on in the streets.
I find Teqosa sitting alone just outside his door. He appears contemplative, staring at the stone walls as though the answers to his problems are etched in them. The street is narrow, with buildings seemingly pressed close, yet there's a serene calmness in its stillness that eases the tension in my muscles. Now that I’ve had a moment to take in and appreciate the scenery, I realize that the multitude of tightly-packed houses is charming and beautiful in their own way.
Initially, I consider leaving him alone with his thoughts, but eventually, I say, “With all this stone surrounding us, it feels as if your people live within the mountains.”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Given the stubbornness I’ve encountered, I sometimes wonder if we aren’t all just extensions of these unyielding rocks,” he replies. I can’t decipher if he's making a wry joke or voicing a genuine grievance against the Qantua.
“The council members seemed to be amenable to the argument we laid before them,” I say.
“They’re too amenable,” he responds. “They were about to side with Taqsame just a day prior, had it not been for your intervention. They would’ve attacked Qapauma without remorse or hesitation.”
“Attack Qapauma?” I question. “Why? What has the Arbiter or Tapeu done to Qantua?”
“Besides threatening to withhold precious resources,” he says, “apparently rebellious cells within the faction’s territory are seeking to depose the man.”
“Already?” I say, baffled. “Hasn’t he only been in command for a few moon cycles? What could he have done to offend in such a short amount of time?”
“Who knows,” he says with a bit of a sigh. “The rich and well-to-do somehow always find something about which to complain.”
My understanding is that the Qantua favor reason over religion, being the keepers of so much knowledge and history. Yet Teqosa articulates very deliberately and formally for a man who dedicates himself primarily to a military way of life. His mannerisms are refined and are devoid of the crudeness I’ve witnessed from others of his ilk.
I sit beside him, taking in the setting as the people walk the streets amidst the tall, stone buildings. Their conversations are free-flowing, and I feel humbled to know this was all made possible by the unity of the factions, coming together to defeat a terrible, oppressive foe. Even in my homeland, Tuatiu, while left relatively unscathed by the Timuaq and, later, the War of Liberation, the tense atmosphere during the rule of the titans was prominent, like a shadow that cloaked every aspect of our existence. I can’t imagine how much that would have been here in a land directly targeted by Timuaq attacks.
It takes me a moment before I finally muster up the courage to ask him, “Do you genuinely believe the three of us can lead an army of Qantua? If I was in their position, I doubt I would take orders from an outsider.”
“They’re good men, and they respect a leader who can prove themselves worthy,” he says. “They may be leery of an Iqsuwa, but I’m not expecting him to lead. Sianchu has the backing of the Arbiter, so they will follow him to an extent. But anyone who has faced the atrocities you have will earn their admiration; you just have to show them why they should follow you into battle.”
“I’ve never led any warriors, though,” I say, concerned that his plan may not be as seamless as he believes it to be. “I’ve only fought in the war, not much more than that.”
Teqosa tilts his head, his eyes filled with understanding. "Leadership isn’t only about commanding troops in battle. It’s about having the heart and conviction to make difficult choices, and to stand by them, no matter the odds. Wars are won by strategy and might, but battles are won by those with the spirit to inspire those around them. You have that spirit. Trust in it."
I absorb Teqosa's words, letting them resonate within me. They stir memories of moments during the war when it wasn't just strength or skill that carried us through, but the will to persevere. It's that unseen force of spirit he speaks of, a beacon in the darkest hours. I recall Haluiqa’s words to me before departing Iantana for Hilaqta, how he said a leader doesn't always lead by force, but by example. Teqosa’s belief in my ability to inspire through my actions isn't just a recognition of past deeds, but a call to embrace a strength I've often underestimated in myself. As I contemplate his wisdom, I feel a renewed sense of purpose. Perhaps it's not about being the seasoned leader but about being the beacon for others to rally behind.
“Inuxeq,” he says, then pauses as he considers his words carefully. His gaze lingers on the aqitzal I wear, the golden metallic guards that protect my forearms. “During the War of Liberation, stories circulated about a warrior who wore those exact aqitzal. A figure who moved like a wraith, turning the tide of battle wherever they went.”
My fingers brush over the intricate carvings on the guards. They’ve become such a part of me that I’ve nearly forgotten their existence. Typically, the Tuatiu do not wear them outside of specific ceremonies or ritualistic events, reserving their use for imperative and extreme moments or battles. Ever since the day I found our slain warriors, I think about their bare arms, not foreseeing the gruesome and violent threat that awaited them. I’ve vowed never to be caught unaware after witnessing such an atrocity.
“These belonged to my mother’s mother,” I say. “They've protected me through countless battles. I wore them during the war, believing they'd protect me... and maybe they did.”
My mind wanders to the ceremony when I received my aqitzal, the tradition is said to have started with the first Tuatiu warriors who ventured into the dark caves, buried deep within our jungles, believed to be entrances to Xipalpa, the underworld named after the deity who protects them. Inside these caves, amidst the dangers and mysteries, they found unique ores and stones that were then forged into the first aqitzal. It's said these guards carried the blessing of the underworld spirits, offering protection against harm and death. As each warrior aged and felt their time in the mortal realm was nearing its end, they would choose a moment to pass on their aqitzal to the next generation. This wasn't just a matter of family lineage; the recipient had to prove their worth, showcasing bravery, wisdom, or other valued qualities. The tradition has waned with the recent development of worshipping the Eleven, and I wonder if our old gods have been forgotten. Nevertheless, I was honored when, moments prior to her death, my mother’s mother passed these on to me, and I make sure to honor her spirit each time I wear them.
Teqosa’s eyes soften, seemingly lost in thought and holding a mixture of admiration and remembrance. “In war, we encounter many acts of bravery... On the day of the final battle, there was a moment when everything seemed lost for me. An enemy had me cornered, and I had nowhere to turn. But then, out of the shadows, a figure wearing those very golden aqitzal intervened, changing the course of that day for me.”
Our eyes lock, my heart pounding as the realization hits. Though many warriors required support when matters on the battlefield grew perilous, I recall that fateful moment—the enemy's menacing face, a Qantua warrior’s desperate situation, and the overwhelming urge I felt to intervene. Nearly an arrow’s flight away, the gray beast pins the man down, who struggles to free himself. At the time, I wielded a spear, since I didn’t find my bow and arrows to be useful in the close combat I found myself in. Seeing the dire scene, I coil back, gathering every ounce of strength, and hurl the spear directly at the creature. I retrieve the weapon, exchange a nod with the Qantua warrior, then return to the fight.
“It was a chaotic day, and I did what any Tuatiu would’ve done,” I say. “I tried to protect those around me.”
A smile, full of gratitude, stretches across his face. “And for that, I've always been thankful, even if I hadn’t recognized my savior until now.”
Was it really him? Is Teqosa the warrior I encountered that day? Have the stars truly aligned for us to be reunited, and in such a way where our fight is once again unified against a foe seeking to end our way of life as we know it?
“How do you–“
Before I can finish my question, he says, “I’ve encountered many warriors in my life, from all over the land, from my time at the academy to the countless harvests spent on the battlefield. Never before have I witnessed a Tuatiu warrior—or any warrior, for that matter—with the ferocity and skill to launch a spear from that distance with that accuracy. I was stunned, left speechless, not just left in awe of being saved, but by the confidence with which you carried yourself, the same confidence you’ve carried since arriving in Hilaqta.”
Is this how others see me? Do I exude such a distinct air of confidence? I’ve always believed in my abilities on the battlefield, certainly, but they’ve never been spoken about by others. No one has vouched for what I can do, and I’ve always had to prove myself to those who doubt my prowess. To have someone recognize in me what I’ve always recognized in myself is a foreign feeling, something I’m far from used to. But I appreciate it nonetheless.
“You were more than capable with the spear,” Teqosa says, “and I imagine, judging by the bow strapped to your back, you’re skilled in many aspects of combat. Utilizing these tools, and showcasing your true spirit and intent, to prove yourself to the Qantua, and you will have their trust—you’ve done so in my eyes. And though I might have my criticisms about my own people, I'm confident that given your abilities, you can win them over just as you have with me.”
I nod and wordlessly express my gratitude, thankful to be recognized and seen, even if I may not entirely believe it myself. To hear such a statement from a well-respected Qantua warrior is truly significant. Combined with the wisdom imparted upon me by Haluiqa, I've begun to sense that while I'm confident in my abilities on the battleground, I might just be capable of achieving even more than I've ever imagined.
A few moments of silence settle between us, the weight of our earlier conversation lingering heavily in the air. Teqosa takes a deep breath, his fingers uncharacteristically fidgeting in his lap.
“There’s something I should share with you,” Teqosa says, then hesitates for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts and deliberating how much to say. “In Wichanaqta, in the Atima territory, Upachu and I discovered something... perplexing.”
I lean in, intrigued. “What did you find?”
He waves me inside his home, and we walk over to a wooden chest, reddish in color and requiring both arms to carry, in which he lifts the lid open. He reaches in and brings out this cloth-like sheet, seemingly crafted of strips of tree bark or some kind of textile. He carefully unfurls it to reveal strange symbols I’ve never seen before, lines and curved marks in a row.
“These markings, they are unfamiliar to me, to us. We believe they might be ancient, possibly even predating our own stories. Some might even be from the Eleven, or perhaps, something the Atima crafted before their downfall.”
I try to decipher the intricate designs, but they are unlike anything I've ever seen. “Is that all you found?”
Teqosa hesitates again, taking a deep breath. “There’s more. Hidden away currently, disguised among Upachu’s belongings. They appear to be mere supplies, but within, there are... clay pots.”
“Clay pots?”
“Yes,” he admits, a hint of reluctance in his voice. “They bear designs similar to maps. Though vague and not easily understood, it’s only due to Upachu's sharp insight that he thinks he recognizes some Qantua landmarks.”
“So, these... symbols and maps, what do they mean?” I ask.
“We're not entirely sure yet,” Teqosa admits, his tone filled with both wonder and caution. “But their presence, especially in Atima territory, hints at their significance. And while I wish I could be there alongside you in the forthcoming battles, I can’t help but feel that understanding these findings is crucial.”
Understanding begins to dawn on me. “So, you won’t be joining us on the assault because…”
“Because I feel there’s more to unearth here,” Teqosa finishes with a determined look. “Your mission is vital, but deciphering these markings could reshape our understanding of the past and, perhaps, even our future.”
I frown, puzzled. “I don't understand. How do these symbols and maps relate to the cultists? Why divert your attention from a present threat to decipher ancient glyphs?”
Teqosa takes a deep breath, considering his words. “While the Eye in the Flame is a current menace, there must be a source for them to draw strength from ancient lore and symbols, as you've likely noticed. Their existence isn't merely a recent threat; their roots reach deep into the past.”
“This is most likely true,” I say, a bit resigned. “The symbol etched into the sword, the substance used to light their weapons on fire. It all seems like magic that was supposed to cease once the Eleven sacrificed themselves to defeat the Timuaq. To see it return…” I don’t finish my thought, shuttering at the notion that there are magic users, and not many who could combat it.
He continues, “Think of it this way: while fighting them head-on can weaken them for the time being, understanding their origins and the power behind their symbols can provide us a means to uproot them entirely. I fear the possibilities if the Eye in the Flame got ahold of this knowledge, which is why I’ve remained tight-lipped about possessing these items. However, we could discover knowledge that gives us leverage over them or even unravel their very foundation. Even bigger than this, the potential to minimize the number of warriors we risk losing makes this pursuit more valuable in my mind.”
I reflect on his words, recalling the various glyphs and emblems the cultists often displayed. “So, you believe that by decoding these artifacts, we could find a more permanent solution?”
“Exactly,” Teqosa says with a nod. “It's a risk, I know. But if we only focus on the battles in front of us and not the greater war, we might win today but lose tomorrow. I aim to ensure a safer future for all by understanding our past.”
His words resonate deeply, reinforcing the complexity of our journey and the challenges ahead. We each have our roles to play, our paths to follow. And while our immediate objectives may differ, our ultimate goals remain aligned.
“In the morning,” Teqosa says, lifting himself up from his seated position in front of his home, “I will introduce the three of you to the warriors who will support our efforts to defeat these cultists. My word holds some weight, certainly, but you all will need to exhibit the qualities that they can get behind upon my departure. While the other two will have a tougher time of it, I believe the men will become loyal to your leadership.”
We agree to meet at the entrance to Hilaqta in the morning, where he will assemble the hundreds and hundreds of warriors. How he will achieve this amount in less than a day’s time perplexes me, yet he seems confident in what he proposes, so I suppose I’ll prepare myself to be pleasantly surprised.
As Teqosa finishes discussing the plan and imparting his advice, I nod, lost in thought about our forthcoming challenges. The distant murmur of warriors preparing for the morrow provides a consistent backdrop to our conversation. Though our deliberations weren’t lengthy, the evening has started to show itself. We part ways as the last rays of the sun illuminate the central plaza of Qantua, casting elongated shadows of the towering buildings around us, with me returning to the Great Library where I’ve been housed during my time in the city.
Distraction catches me as movement on the periphery of my vision draws my attention to an elevated window overlooking the plaza. There, silhouetted against the dimming sky, stands the shadowy figure resembling the one I'd first glimpsed at the Great Library's entrance earlier. A shiver of recognition races down my spine.
From this distance, features are indiscernible, yet an unmistakable aura of intention emanates from the enigmatic figure. It’s as though they're surveying the plaza with a purpose, their attention momentarily settling on our gathering.
A feeling of unease takes root within me, but before I can decide on a course of action or turn to mention it to Teqosa, a sudden commotion—the loud chants of Qantua’s warriors practicing their war cries, or perhaps a nearby dispute—drowns the plaza in noise. By the time the clamor settles and I manage to refocus on the window, the figure is gone, vanished into the encroaching evening.
Questions swirl in my mind, but the immediate demands of our mission, and the pressing weight of leadership, push the mystery of the shadowy observer aside for the moment. With a final glance at the now-empty window, I turn back to Teqosa’s home, unknowing that the enigma I've left unattended will soon become his to unravel.