The Golden Conquest – Part 27 – The final episode

.           Xlenca was forced to slow his pace. His lungs burned and throat was raw. Lotec reached his side and the two men strove onward, their breath coming in desperate gasps. The young Beast Master glanced downward. The Spaniard was following closely while Master Quezoema struggled further behind. He saw that he was halfway up the staircase.  There was still so far to go. Stealing a glimpse at the top of the Great Temple, he was horrified to see the stones taking on the color of the dawn. Something bright flashed in the darkness, reflecting the first light of sunrise. He was too late.

*                                  *                            *                                  *

A scream shattered the stillness of the morning. A woman’s voice sounded shrill and loud for a moment, and then was stilled.

*                                  *                            *                                  *

With his heart beating so hard it threatened to tear itself from his breast, Xlenca pounded upwards. His knuckles were white as he gripped his rod with fierce determination. He pulled an obsidian bladed knife from his belt without slacking his pace and pressed onward closer and closer to the top of the pyramid. His visage, already grim and savage, paled with an unquenchable anger as he caught sight of the channel cut down the midst of the stairway. Even in the dim light he could see that which he had dreaded to see. The channel flowed with fresh blood, the blood of a sacrifice to the God of the Sun. A hard lump of despair rose in his throat and tears welled in his eyes but he shook them off. He must still try.

His eyes were dry and hard when he reached the summit of the stairs. He screamed with anger as he surged forward. A Sun Warrior turned to block his path swinging a war club as he did.  Xlenca parried the blow with his rod and thrust out with his knife. The razor sharp tip of the obsidian dagger bit deeply into the man’s thigh.  With a grunt of surprise, the Sun Warrior tumbled to the floor, twisting on his uninjured leg as he fell. The stone blade snapped in two as the man buckled beneath its impact and Xlenca was forced to drop the now useless weapon as another of the temple guardsmen charged at him. The second Sun Warrior fell with a scream as the first of Lotec’s javelins pierced his shoulder.

The soldiers of the sun priest surged forward. The two Ixtec, Beast Master and Rider, were quickly joined by the Spanish courtier d’Amarco but the three allies remained severely outnumbered. If they had been better armed, if they had not been so weary from their long trek to the city and so exhausted by their race up the side of the temple, the outcome might have been different. A half dozen of the Sun Warriors fell before the fury of their onslaught but it was not enough to insure victory. Instead, the trio of combatants was overwhelmed by the forces arrayed against them. Bruised and battered they succumbed to the sheer number of guardsmen. Within moments Xlenca was weaponless, his arms pinioned by a pair of warriors. A third raised his spear for the final blow.

Once more, the morning air was broken by a woman’s scream.

The instant was frozen in eternity. His adversaries shocked into seeming stillness Xlenca slowly turned his head towards the sound. The blood red fury faded from his vision as his eyes focused on the small knot of prisoners jostling with their jailers. His mouth dropped open in surprise as one of them broke through, reaching towards him with bound hands. Roughly she was grabbed and thrust back into the midst of her fellow captives but the sight of her was enough. The sight of all of them was enough. It was Cue-Ahmma, with Ma-Zena and Henrico beside her. She was alive. They were all three alive.

“Cease.” At Lo-Huitzlapoch command the Sun Warriors lowered their weapons. “Do not kill them. They are trespassers here but we will let them see our triumph.”  Master Quezoema staggered to the top of the stair at that moment, his breath gone from the climb and his heart pounding. The older Beast Master was seized and placed under guard. The group’s rescue attempt had failed and they too were now prisoners. 

Xlenca jerked his head suddenly toward the stone alters. If Cue-Ahmma and Ma-Zena still lived, then whose blood had been spilled? Whose life had been relinquished to the dawn? A sob caught in his throat as his eyes fell upon the still forms stretched out upon the blood drenched altars. Their chests were mangled and torn. Their throats dripped with gore. But their faces were strangely serene and peaceful. There, atop the unyielding stone, their skin reddened both the rays of the rising sun and by their own spilt blood lay the bodies of Father Garcilosa de la Vega and Master Tu-Tuoan of the Red Sun.

*                                  *                            *                                  *

Henrico followed Xlenca’s gaze. He still could not believe that his friend and mentor was dead. He could not understand how a man so filled with faith, so strong in battle, so courageous in life, could have allowed himself to be put beneath the blade of a pagan despot. And why had the old Ixtec gone so willingly with him? Tu-Tuoan had been touched by the hand of God, healed of his infirmity and made to walk again. Yet he too had had the precious gift of life ripped from his chest. The young Benedictine stared at their remains, his eyes awash in tears. God had brought these two men together from opposite ends of the earth. He had woven their lives together with faith and with power, and now, together He welcomed them into paradise.

Henrico remembered the words they had spoken. The Sun Warriors had stepped forward to seize the two Ixtec women for their master Lo-Huitzlapoch. They were to be the first to die, virgins given in sacrifice to the rising sun. Henrico was to follow. But the Spanish priest and the Ixtec Beast Rider had other plans.

“There is another way,” Master Tu-Tuoan had said, “Let the young people go and you can have an even more valuable sacrifice.”

“What do you mean, old man?” Lo-Huitzlapoch said, his tone mocking.

            “What he is saying,” the Spanish priest said, “Is that if you let Henrico and the two young women go free, we will submit to your ceremony. We will be the sacrifices.”

The silence that followed was broken by the cruel laughter of the sun priest. Lo-Huitzlapoch had slowly shaken his head in amusement. “You’ll submit? Why should I care if you submit or not? You are already in my hands. I have all the power here and can put you under my knife should I choose.”

“No, you cannot,” Master Tu-Tuoan had said, “I am not your prisoner. I am a Master of the Great Beast, Elder Councilor of the Red Sun Barracks, a member of the Grand Council of the Path of Quetzol and Advisor to the Council of Stewards. You cannot and dare not harm me in any way. You know that this is so.”

“So,” the sun priest had spat back, “I have these four. That is enough.”

“But you do not have them,” the Beast Master had said, “You know the law. The edicts of the Sun God do not allow you to demand the sacrifice of a warrior priest and that is just what Garcilosa is. You know this. All know this. Even you must obey the rules of your god.”

“You fool,” the sun priest had said with a sneer, “Why should I worry of rules? Soon you will all be dead.”

“True, but they will know.” Tu-Tuoan had gestured toward the temple priests. “They will know if you do not follow the ways of your god. And in knowing they will cease to obey you. If you want our blood then you must agree to our demands.”

Lo-Huitzlapoch had reddened with anger, his fists slowly clenching and releasing. He had glanced over at the other clerics. They had heard all that had been said and had begun to murmur amongst themselves in hushed and uneasy tones. There was truth in the old fool’s words. The power and prestige represented in the Beast Master and the warrior priest were more valuable than a dozen virgins. At last, the High Priest had nodded his head sharply and hissed through gritted teeth. “Very well. The women and the boy will be freed. But you, both of you will be under my knife.”

“Let it be so,” Father Garcilosa had said.

Henrico had stood in shocked silence, wanting to cry out in protest but unable to find the words. It could not be, he had thought, there must be another way. He had tried to break free, to reach the priest who had come to mean so much to him but the Sun Warriors had restrained him roughly. Father Garcilosa had turned, raising his bound hands toward his apprentice in silent benediction. Slowly, a sad tender smile had appeared on his face. He had then begun to speak, his gentle words seeming to force all of the surroundings into deathly stillness.

“It is God’s will, my son.  He has called me to this place and this time. I am ready to behold Him at last, face to face. I am at peace.”

With a snarl Lo-Huitzlapoch had ordered the two older men seized and laid out upon the altars. He had hurried to stand over their prostate forms and held his dagger high into the morning air. As he had done so Father Garcilosa had turned once more and spoken clearly and firmly to Henrico, “Ergo sum pastor bonus, bonus pastor animan suam dat pro ovibus.

The sun priest had blanched pale at the Spaniard’s words. An unworldly light glowed in his eyes as the strange words pierced his spirit. His face had twisted into a cruel mask of hate and, forgetting every ritual and practice, he had assaulted the foreign priest in a fury of mindless blood lust. As his dagger plunged into the bodies of the Spanish cleric and the Ixtec Master, Ma-Zena had at last given way to her fear and terror. She had screamed a shrill and desperate cry that had shattered the dawn’s illusion of peace until it had been stifled by the rough hands of a Sun Warrior.

*                                  *                            *                                  *

Xlenca shook himself and looked again at the torn and brutalized bodies lying on the stone altars. Master Tu-Tuoan and Father Garcilosa were dead, apparently sacrificed to the Sun God at the hands of his High Priest. A host of emotions tore through his chest. Grief and sadness competed with anger and a cry for vengeance. All must need be suppressed. He could not save the Spanish priest or his former Master but perhaps there was still a chance to save the others.

“Lo-Huitzlapoch,” he called out, “Surely there has been enough bloodshed. Surely the Sun God will be satisfied.”

“He might have been,” the pagan cleric said, gesturing at the savaged corpse of Father Garcilosa, “But not now. This unclean creature cursed us with his last breath. He did not submit to his death but sought to escape it through foul sorcery.”

“No,” Henrico said, “That is not so.”

“Hah, the magician’s apprentice speaks. What then did he say, fool? He cursed us with the tongues of demons. Are you attempting to do the same?”

“No, that is not true.  Father Garcilosa spoke Latin, a language from our homeland, the language of our priests.”

“What did he say?” Xlenca asked.

“He quoted from our Holy Books. He used the words of Jesus. He said that he was a good shepherd, just like our Lord and just like Jesus he was willing to die for his sheep, for us. He wasn’t trying to escape death. He was yielding to it.” Henrico spoke softly as he continued to stare at the face of the deceased priest. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks but his eyes glowed with the recognition of what his mentor had done. Ma-Zena sobbed quietly beside him and turned to bury her face in his chest. The young Spaniard’s arms were tied with cords but he was still able to slip them over her shoulders. He looked with defiance at the sun priest.

“You must let us go now. You gave your word that when Master Tu-Tuoan and Father Garcilosa sacrificed themselves you would free us. You must do so.”

“I must? Do not dare try to dictate to me. I still hold the power, all of the power.” He began to laugh, a harsh cruel sound that sent shivers through all who heard it. He waved his dagger in the air and continued to rave wildly. “Who do you think can stop me? Your pathetic friends? They are prisoners just as you are.” Sweeping the dagger tip past Xlenca and his companions, he thrust it next towards the clutch of temple priests. The clerics fell back in disarray before his fury. “Do you think they can stop me? That I care about their rules or their opinions anymore?” He began to move closer to Henrico and the two women. The captives attempted to shrink away but were harshly grasped once more by the Sun Warriors and pushed forward. Lo-Huitzlapoch waved the dagger fiercely through the air, the highly polished steel flashing bright in the morning sun.

*                                  *                            *                                  *

Some later said that the High Priest had offended the Sun God. That when Lord Lo-Huitzlapoch had refused to honor his pact with the dead Beast Master and the Spanish priest, his own god had turned on him. Others said that the noise and the smell of fresh blood caused confusion atop the Great Temple, and that the flash of sunlight reflected from the high priest’s blade had precipitated the events which followed. Some wondered about the power of the foreign God, of what role He played in these events. Most only shrugged and said that they were just glad that it was over, that the new High Priest had been too ambitious, too scornful of tradition and simply too dangerous. Henrico knew the truth.

Even as the sun priest had begun his mad ravings and had begun to stalk toward them, a voice had spoken in his head. He kept him . . . as an eagle . . . hovers over its young, spreading out its wings, taking them up. Those who wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles. A great peace settled over him and he watched in detached interest as the sun priest raised his dagger to strike. Henrico turned his head slowly to gaze at the great eagle as it sat perched upon the torch stand. The predatory bird had not moved during all the battle and commotion but had continued to watch the unfolding drama in quiet stillness. Then suddenly it took wing. Sunlight blazed from the blade held by the sun priest but Henrico saw the raptor take flight even before the bright beams of light struck its perch. 

The shrill scream of the war bird sounded through the air. The great eagle, its plumage painted red and gold by the dawn, swept toward the sun priest with its talons extended. Lo-Huitzlapoch staggered back with hands raised to protect his face. The eagle beat against him with its wings and slashed out with beak and claw. The Sun God’s High Priest shrieked in fear and anguish and desperately attempted to escape from the bird’s fierce onslaught. His foot slipped in a pool of fresh blood and he stumbled. Before he could regain his balance, the eagle flew at him again. Lo-Huitzlapoch could not withstand the assault. He stepped off the edge of the Great Temple and tumbled down its steep staircase.

The eagle seemed to hover in midair for a moment, watching the deadly course the sun priest’s body took down the side of the stone pyramid. Its golden eye flashed at Henrico once again and then it spiraled into the sky. In shocked silence the guardsmen and temple priest rushed to the edge of the platform. The captives followed. The once bright headdress was broken and sullied. The regal cloak of plumage had been torn and shredded. Feathers of every hue floated like falling leaves. Lo-Huitzlapoch lay at the foot of the staircase, his body twisted and shattered. His neck was bent at an impossible angle and his eyes were locked in a lifeless stare into eternity. The High Priest of the Great Temple of the Sun was dead.

Master Quezoema was quick to assert his authority. Shaking off his shocked captors he ordered the other Sun Warriors to release the prisoners. He moved to rearm his companions and then confronted the temple priests. Confused and frightened, the accolades were easily cowed by the Beast Master. They had departed the ways of their ancestors, and followed a mad man who defied tradition and corrupted the Empire. To be redeemed they must forsake the ways of Lo-Huitzlapoch and resume their proper role. Priests, advisors, and most of all supporters of the Path of Quetzol. The temple clerics whispered amongst themselves and then in unison, bowed in acceptance of Master Quezoema’s words.

The Sun Warriors also submitted. Upon Quezoema’s command, the company of Sun Warriors marched down the staircase to lift up the twisted remains of the High Priest. Without a sound they strode away from the temple and away from the city. If any saw their passing, they did not speak of it. Lo-Huitzlapoch was gone and his name was best forgotten.

In the following weeks the plague began to burn itself out. Thousands had died from its ravages. Common peasants and simple soldiers were joined in death with rich merchants, educated priests and exalted Stewards. Even so, things could have been much worse. Through the intercession of Master Quezoema, Henrico was allowed to appear before the Council of Stewards. The young Benedictine was able to pass on Father Garcilosa’s knowledge on how best to contain the disease. Those infected must be isolated he told them, their possessions and houses burned and only others who had survived the illness allowed to care for the sick and dying.

The Council was grateful and agreed to all. The Spanish prisoners were released and allowed to return to their countrymen, including those found imprisoned in the Great Temple. The priests had at first protested that these captives had already been dedicated to the Sun God but they were overruled. All actions of the disgraced High Priest Lo-Huitzlapoch had been illegal and thus void. The decision became more acceptable with the news from the siege of the Spanish.

The Ixtec army surrounding the foreigners had thus far been spared from the plague but the news of its destruction had caused fear and tribulation. Discipline was more difficult to maintain and men were deserting out of concern for their families. The generals had at last admitted that there was little chance of success. The Spaniards’ weapons, especially those which killed with smoke and thunder, were just too potent to overcome. The invaders from over the Great Eastern Sea could not break out of their compound but neither could the Ixtec triumph over their defenses. They had reached a stalemate and so negotiations began.

In the end it was decided that the invading army would be allowed to leave. Resources would be passed through the fort’s gates so that the foreigners could rebuild their great canoes. As long as the invaders left and pledged not to return, the Empire would be satisfied. They had defeated the enemy in open combat and held them immobile for months. Honor had been served and now the Ixtec were content to simply recover from the war and from the plague.

As Henrico was escorted from his meeting with the Council of Stewards, he was pleased to find his companions waiting for him. Xlenca stepped forward with his arm around his betrothed Cue-Ahmma while Lotec and d’Amarco followed behind. Ma-Zena broke away from the others and rushed ahead to wrap her arms around the young Spaniard. Henrico blushed but a shy smile touched his lips. Hesitantly at first and then with growing enthusiasm, he returned the embrace.

“Sister, let the young man breathe,” Xlenca said as he approached the couple. It was Ma-Zena’s turn to flush with embarrassment as the others gathered around. She pulled back but continued to hold the young man’s arm and turned to look into his eyes. Apprehension briefly clouded her face as she asked, “Did the Council agree to Master Quezoema’s advice? Are you freed?”

“Yes, he is, young woman,” Master Quezoema said, “Both he and the swordsman are to be released. They are to be allowed to return to their countrymen.” The Beast Master handed a knotted message belt to d’Amarco. “This will ensure your safety and allow you to pass through our forces.”

“Master Quezoema has also given his permission for Lotec and me to act as your guides,” Xlenca said, “You will still get your chance to ride atop Moon Dancer.” 

Henrico could see the joy in the young Beast Master’s eyes. He had been able to share with the warrior and to assure him that Tu-Tuoan and Father Garcilosa were safe in the arms of Jesus. He knew that Xlenca’s acceptance of this new belief was complete and real. The Beast Master had opened his heart to God and he had been changed and renewed. 

Henrico looked around at those who had become his friends and companions. It was only a short time ago that he had feared and mistrusted them but now they had become closer than family. The Ixtec warriors had proven to be honorable and caring while the courtier Ponce d’Amarco had shown his true nature at last and become the comrade Henrico always hoped he would be. God had worked in their lives. His conquest over the darkness had filled their souls with a golden light, and shown them the power of His love and His grace. Cortes’ attempt to invade the New World had met failure and defeat but there had been a victory of much greater importance. That victory had occurred in the souls of men.

 The young Spaniard knew that his own heart had been touched in ways that he could never have imagined. The Ixtec maiden beside him had broken through his wariness to melt the ice that had gripped his chest. But Henrico also knew that even her gentle warmth could not affect a heart of stone. Someone else had done that. Another of infinite power and love had achieved that miracle. I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you; and I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put My Spirit within you and cause you to walk in My statutes. Henrico closed his eyes and lifted his face skyward. 

He smiled as he felt the sun’s warmth caress his countenance. A flickering shadow crossed his visage and he opened his eyes. High above, a dark shape soared through the azure sky. It was an eagle, golden and majestic, its wings spread wide in the firmament. The eagle’s cry sounded through the air, calling to each member of the small group. Henrico’s smile broadened and he raised his hand in salute.

The great brown grey form of the mastodon crested the top of the hill. She raised her trunk to sniff the wind and felt the sharp tang of salt in the air. Moon Dancer trumpeted a challenge and a greeting. Henrico stepped around the Great Beast’s flank and shading his eyes with his hand stared out at the distant horizon. The bright blue shimmer of the sea drew his vision to its promise.  Somewhere beyond his sight, a ship was sailing into a quiet bay to await his coming. It would be there to receive him and carry him away from this land. He did not know for certain where it would take him. Perhaps back to Spain. Perhaps to Salamanca and the monastery. Or perhaps, he would be led elsewhere. 

He did not know what life held in store for him but he was no longer afraid. Henrico knew with a certainty that forced all doubt to flee that his life was in God’s hands, that the Lord was in control. Ma-Zena stepped forward and took his arm. This too, he knew, depended on God’s will. But he was not troubled.

At last, after so much time, he was at peace.

The End

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The Golden Conquest – Part 26

.           Xlenca stared anxiously at the eastern sky. It remained dark and clouded, the threat of dawn still hours away. How strange to view the coming of light as such a grim menace but he knew the peril that would accompany the appearance of the sun. In the empire of the Ixtec dawn was the hour of the Sun God. Xlenca feared that this morning it would once again be an hour of death. He moved back to Moon Dancer’s side and reached up to retighten the straps of her harness. The great beast’s eyes were red and heavy when she opened them to blink wearily at her master. A slight shudder rippled down her flanks but she did not pull away.

“I’m sorry, old one,” Xlenca said, “I know that you are tired. We all are. But we must continue a little further. They need us, Master Tu-Tuoan, Ma-Zena and Cue-Ahmma. We must reach them in time.” He clambered up onto Moon Dancer’s shoulders and glanced over at Quezoema. The Barracks Master was ready. Lotec and d’Amarco settled back into the war boxes and clutched their weapons. Xlenca nodded sharply and touched his mount’s side with his rod. They would make it. They simply had too.

*                                  *                                  *                                  *

Henrico was numb with fatigue but could not sleep. The stone floor of their cell was cold and unyielding but was not the reason. A harsh knot of fear gnawed at his gullet and clutched at his throat. His mouth was dry but his palms were wet. He stared in morbid fascination at the steady tremble of his fingertips. Was this how he would die? A quivering bundle of terror ravaged flesh unable to stand or to speak? What of his friends? The women had been locked in the adjourning cell and for time Henrico could hear their sobs. Now they were quiet. How would they face death? The young Benedictine’s eyes darted across the room. 

The old Beast Master, Tu-Tuoan, was sleeping and actually seemed at peace. The attitude he displayed even in sleep was as surprising as his presence. He alone of the group did not have to be there. Indeed, the Sun Warriors had at first resisted his attempts to join them in the cell beneath the Great Temple. Henrico could not help but recall with renewed surprise and admiration the strength of the Ixtec elder’s words. Tu-Tuoan had made it clear to the Sun Warriors that he felt that his place was with the prisoners and that he would not be denied.

            Yes, the old ways may be changing and yes, the power of the sun priest might be on the increase but he, the great Tu-Tuoan, Elder of the Red Sun Barracks, Grand Master of the Quetzolite Path and Rider of the Great Beast, was not yet without influence. The Sun Warriors could refuse him this simple request and face the consequences or they could acquiesce. Besides, wouldn’t their master prefer to know where the old man was rather than have him wandering through the city causing all sorts of disturbance? At that point the guards had simply stepped aside and permitted the Beast Master to enter the cell. The door was locked behind him.

Henrico allowed his gaze to travel further to where Father Garcilosa sat hunched over. At first, the young Benedictine thought that his mentor was also sleeping but then the soft murmur of words came to his ear. The priest was not asleep but rather was deep in prayer. The younger man felt a prompting to follow his example but the chill cold of the stone floor seemed to have penetrated right up into his heart. The words stuck in his throat and his tongue felt wooden. He stared up at the ceiling, the roughhewn rock was an impenetrable barrier between himself and the throne room of God. He felt that any prayer which might pass his lips would rise no higher than those few feet. A feeling of deep gloom descended upon him and he slowly lowered his head.

A hand upon his shoulder made him look up suddenly. Father Garcilosa had moved to sit beside him and now spoke softly to the younger cleric. “Do not despair, my son.”

“But Father, I am afraid.”

“‘God hath not given us the spirit of fear, but of power, and of love and of a sound mind.’”

“I feel so alone.”

“He said, ‘I will never leave you, nor forsake you.’”

“But where is He? Why cannot I feel Him?”

“‘Seek the Lord while He may be found, call upon Him while He is near,’ for ‘you will seek the Lord and you will find Him, if you seek Him with all your heart.’” 

With each scripture that the priest quoted, it seemed to Henrico as if a crack was opened through the sky into heaven. The words tore the barrier asunder and he felt the warm light of paradise pouring over his soul. He felt the peace of God settle over him and he bowed his head once more, not in anguish but in reverence. Father Garcilosa placed his hand on the younger man’s head in a silent benediction. The two Spaniards sat unspeaking for a moment. Henrico lifted his head and gestured to their fellow prisoners.

“What about the others, Father? What will happen to them?”

“Do not worry, my son, the Lord is watching over them as well. We are all in His hands.”

“But what is He going to do? What are we going to do?”

“We? We shall do what we must.”

*                                  *                            *                                  *

            The city gates were dark and silent. No sentry called out to challenge the Great Beasts as they strode out of the gloom. No one stepped forth to greet the Beast Riders. It was as if the grand city of the Ixtec had been shaken to its core and was now hiding in fear from its fate.  Quezoema edged his tired mount forward and the mighty mastodon lowered her head against the heavy wooden beams of the city gate. Moon Dancer joined her sister and the two mastodons strained against the barricade. The muscles in their vast shoulders began to tremble from the strain as their breath came in great ragged gulps. Moon Dancer’s forefoot slipped and she almost stumbled. Xlenca leaned forward to whisper encouragement in her ear and his mount regained her footing. The redoubled efforts of the Beasts were rewarded with the cracking sound of a heavy shaft splintering before their onslaught. The gates fell open before them.

            Xlenca glanced at the eastern sky and urged the mastodons forward. The blackness of the night was fading before the relentless onslaught of the approaching day. Night would not yield the battlefield easily as evidenced by the deep red beginning to drip from the eastern clouds. But it could not prevail and soon day, in all its terrible grandeur, would burst victorious over the horizon. They had to reach the Great Temple of the Sun before dawn’s first rays touched its stony peak. Xlenca feared what might happen if they failed. The pair of mounted mastodons rounded a corner onto a broad avenue and in the distance Xlenca could see the blackened silhouette of the Great Temple.

            With a shout he urged Moon Dancer forward. The Great Beast broke into a trot only to be drawn up short as a force of warriors stepped from the shadows. A fearsome company of city guardsmen moved into view, their faces grim and their weapons at the ready. They quickly arrayed themselves across the avenue. The Beast Masters may have entered the city unopposed but they would not so reach its Great Temple. The passage would have to be earned, perhaps even with combat against their countrymen. A man stepped through the ranks of the guardsmen to wave off the approaching mastodons. It was the same Steward who had urged them to battle against the invading Spanish. Now he sought to order them away.

            “You will go no further,” he said loudly, “On authority of the Council of the Empire, I order you hence.”

            “We must reach the temple.” Xlenca’s voice was desperate. “Lo-Huitzlapoch must be stopped.”

            “No. You cannot interfere. The survival of our city requires it.” He motioned to the guardsmen and the rear rank made ready to cast their javelins. Xlenca felt Lotec tense beside him and saw d’Amarco draw his sword. He did not know if they could break through the mass of men before them but he felt he must make the attempt. He had to reach the temple. He would reach it. Or he would die trying. He lifted his rod to command Moon Dancer to charge.

*                                  *                                  *                                  *

            The door of the cell burst open. Sun Warriors stepped inside and parted to allow the entry of the sun priest. Lo-Huitzlapoch strode into the room followed by a cadre of accolades and priests from the temple. He stood, his arms crossed in a posture of grandiose superiority and waved the pagan clerics forward. His face twisted into a sneer as he glanced over the scene. It was a pathetic picture, he thought. The two young women had already been dragged from their cell and now huddled together in a feeble attempt to avoid his wrath. The Spaniards sat dumbfounded, left speechless by his awesome appearance while the old foolish Beast Master was slowly rising to his feet, no doubt intent on pleading for their lives. He pointed across at the prisoners.

            “It is time. Bring the youth along with the women.”

            “We are coming as well,” Master Tu-Tuoan said as Father Garcilosa rose to stand beside him.

            “You presume to dictate to me, herdsman? You have no power here.”

            “Nonetheless,” Tu-Tuoan said, “We will accompany the others to wherever you take them.”

            Lo-Huitzlapoch stood silent for a moment and then slowly drew the Spanish dagger from his belt. The steel blade glowed dully in the flickering torchlight of the prison cell. The sun priest stretched out his hand to point the sharpened point at each prisoner in slow succession. At last he laid the dagger tip against the exposed neck of the Ixtec elder.

            “Understand me clearly, Beast Rider,” he said, “I hold all the power here. You come and go at my pleasure and my pleasure only.” He paused to sheath the dagger. “I have decided. It would do well for you to witness the full demonstration of my power. You will come with us.” He spun quickly on his heel and marched from the cell waving the guardsmen to follow. “Bring them. Bring them all. The dawn is coming and the Sun God thirsts for a sacrifice. He thirsts for blood.”

*                                  *                                  *                                  *

            Xlenca could feel Moon Dancer tense beneath him. In the open field of battle where the mastodons could charge at full speed the Great Beasts were a force beyond reckoning. But the young Beast Master knew that here, confined in the narrow city streets and facing a strong determined enemy they were much more vulnerable. He feared for Moon Dancer and that fear made him hesitate. He would gladly sacrifice his own life for those of his sister and Cue-Ahmma. But could he allow Moon Dancer to come to harm? But what else could be done? It was their only chance. He began to bring his rod down in the quick sharp command to charge.

            “No. Stop. There is another way.” 

            Startled by the shout of his Barracks Master, Xlenca froze and stared in amazement as Quezoema slid down from his mount and began to approach the city guard. The senior Beast Master spread his hands wide, his palms upturned and empty. He was leaving himself vulnerable and open to any blow or spear thrust that their opponents might use against him. The guardsmen looked at each other in bewilderment and fell back before Quezoema’s approach. At last he stood directly before the commander of the forces arrayed against them. He bowed slightly and then looked the man full in the eye.

            “Steward,” he said, “You know me. We have shared bread together and fought together. We have both always sought to serve the Empire to the best of our ability and to always protect her from any harm. You know that this is so. Remember, we stood side by side against the Aztec at Lake Texcoco. You were there when my brother died. He died turning back the assault on your flank. Without his courage the day may have been lost and the Empire put into deepest peril. Our homeland is in grave danger once again but not in the way which you assume. Will you hear the words which I would share with you? Will you listen to the brother of one who died for our People?” The grey-haired Steward stared at the Beast Master in silence for a moment and then nodded his assent. The two men moved away from the soldiers and stood in the shadows of the surrounding buildings. 

Xlenca could not hear their words but he watched as Quezoema pulled a small leather bag from his belt and displayed its contents to the other man. The Steward recoiled as if in horror but then seemed to regain his composure. He stepped closer to the Beast Master turning his head to listen intently to the other man’s words. The Steward could be seen nodding his head and then in a dramatic gesture of reconciliation, grasped Quezoema’s arms in his own. Without a further word the imperial commander turned and motioned to the city guardsmen. In a moment the previously hostile troops lowered their weapons and stepped aside. The way to the Great Temple was clear once more. Quezoema scrambled atop his mastodon and urged them forward.

*                                  *                                  *                                  *

Henrico was winded and breathing heavily by the time they reached the top of the steep staircase. He stumbled and almost fell on the dimly lit steps. A Sun Warrior jerked him roughly to his feet and shoved him forcefully upwards. The young Benedictine was propelled through a trap door onto the broad flat roof of the Great Temple. A second Warrior seized his arms and pushed him into line with the two Ixtec women. Henrico stared out over the expanse of the city, still darkly shadowed in the pre-dawn light. He was startled by the height of the pyramidal structure and looked about with eyes wide with fear and apprehension.

The top of the Great Temple was grim and stark. A broad steep stairway could be seen ascending from its front. Two flat altar-like blocks of stone bordered each side of the stairway, while a black bowl-shaped rock rested at the platform’s center. The bowl had been scorched with fire and was coated with thick, greasy black soot. The remainder of the space was empty, save for a number of dark posts at each corner designed to hold torches. The torches were unlit and cold. No attempt had been made to dispel the gloom or to conceal the harsh reality of worship at a Temple of the Sun. 

The hard, unyielding stone of the altars were darkened and stained with blood. The blood had overflowed the tops of the altars and spilled over the edges of the rock.  It had been allowed to funnel into a channel that ran down the center of the broad stairway. The blood stains announced to the city the fierce bloodlust of the Sun God and of his priests. It mocked the feeble attempts of man to defy this god or to strive against his evil. The young Spaniard recognized its claim and felt his fear anew. He tried to swallow but his mouth was locked in dry terror.

*                                  *                                  *                                  *

“What did you say to the Steward?” Xlenca asked as they hurried down the avenue.

“I told him what we had seen at the Great Hill Barracks,” Master Quezoema said, “And I showed him this.” The older Beast Master tossed a small leather bag to Xlenca. Catching it in midair he held it for a moment before opening the drawstring. Inside the satchel were some of the remains from the secret building at the Great Hill. It was a relic horrifying enough to convince the Steward that the true danger to the Empire lay in the sun priest Lo-Huitzlapoch and his fascination with the old gods. It was the tiny skull of an infant who had been sacrificed to an old and ancient evil. It proved that the sun priest must be stopped.

“Look,” Lotec shouted pointing at the top of the Great Temple. Xlenca looked up sharply. Figures had appeared on top of the stone pyramid. He rapped Moon Dancer on the neck to prompt her into greater speed. He could not be too late.

*                                  *                                  *                                  *

The sun priest strode up through the trap door and pulled on an ornate feathered headdress, laden with gold and precious stones. A temple accolade stepped forward to drape a cloak formed from blue, red and yellow feathers over his shoulders. Lo-Huitzlapoch shrugged the cloak into place and fastened it around his throat with a chain of heavy gold. A gilded pendant hung around his neck inscribed on one side with the image of the Sun God. On the reverse was a second image, an older even more sinister likeness, that of the Old One. The sun priest pulled the Spanish dagger from his belt and held it aloft. The sunrise was only moments away now and all was ready.

            The shrill cry of a bird sounded through the stillness. Lo-Huitzlapoch turned to watch as an eagle descended from the sky to perch on one of the corner posts. The wild raptor stared back at the humans, its golden eyes hard and unblinking. The sun priest smiled in triumph. It was a good omen.

*                                  *                                  *                                  *

Moon Dancer’s great sides were heaving from exertion when she at last reached the base of the Great Temple. The faithful mastodon had given all she could to the desperate race and she was near to collapsing with exhaustion. Xlenca slid down from his position atop her weary shoulders and began to run up the steep side of the temple. Lotec limped upward behind him, a javelin clutched tightly in each hand. He glanced up at the temple’s peak. High above, dark forms could be seen moving against the lightening sky, shifting into position in preparation for the sinister ceremony. The Beast Rider ducked his head and pushed onward.

*                                  *                                  *                              *

D’Amarco had sensed the growing apprehension and anxiety amongst his Ixtec companions. Though he still could not fully understand everything that had happened the Spanish courtier knew that his countrymen were danger. The sun priest who had conspired with the now dead Inquisitor had seized Father Garcilosa and young Henrico and was threatening their lives for some reason. The Beast Masters had led him to this huge stone pyramid and by their reaction he judged that this was where the threat was to be carried out. D’Amarco scrambled down from atop the mastodon and started up behind the elder Ixtec.  He passed the older man and raced upward, following Xlenca and Lotec toward the top. 

*                                  *                                  *                                  *

The sun priest stood on the edge of the platform. He was on the brink of shattering the power of the foreign invaders and seizing it for himself. The outmoded ways of the Ixtec people with their misplaced faith in the Path of Quetzol would be swept aside. For too long these simple minded shepherds, these overblown herdsmen had wielded too much influence in the Empire. They would be replaced. Even the priesthood of the Great Temple would be supplanted, he thought, as he glanced over at the throng of clerics watching from the back of the rooftop. They would soon be replaced by his own cohorts, followers of a god older, stronger and more bloodthirsty than the oh so benign Sun God. And he, Lo-Huitzlapoch would rule them all. The people and even the Council of Stewards would acknowledge him, would bow down to him. The Old One had spoken to him and told him so. The gifts he had brought and would continue to bring would assure him of victory. He would be more than the High Priest, he would be Emperor.

He pulled the Spanish dagger from his belt and clasped it with both hands. He held it aloft, stretching high in anticipation of the first rays of daybreak and for the instant to strike.

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The Golden Conquest – Part 25

.           The cords around Henrico’s wrists bit into his flesh as he was shoved down the darkened trail.  They had been marching hard through the whole length of the day under the fierce sun pausing only briefly for water and not at all for food.  They continued their trek now through the early part of the night, the trail lit by torchlight, their limbs numb with fatigue.  He stumbled and almost fell but was jerked roughly to his feet by one of the infantrymen.  The young Benedictine glanced back to see the women being pulled along behind them.  A Sun Warrior held a rope looped around Ma-Zena’s hands and stepped closer to her.  He leered at the young woman and ran his hand down her side.  Henrico howled in protest and lunged at the man only to be brought up short by a spear butt in the midsection.  He crumpled to the ground struggling for breath and watched helplessly as the Sun Warrior grabbed the spear to strike him again.  Before the blow could land the man was brought up short by the cold steel of a dagger blade at his throat. 

“Enough,” Lo-Huitzlapoch snarled, wrenching the man’s head back with a fierce tug on his hair, “He needs to be able to walk.”  He leaned in closer and whispered savagely in the man’s ear, “The girl is a virgin and she will still be a virgin when we reach the Great Temple or it will be you and yours that lie under my blade.  Understand?”

The sun priest did not wait for an answer but shoved the man away and signaled for the march to resume.  Looking up, he caught Father Garcilosa eyeing the dagger suspiciously.  Grinning slyly, he stepped up beside the Spanish cleric, holding the blade up in the flickering torchlight as he did.

“A beautiful thing is it not?” he said smoothly, “You fish-men do make fine weapons.  Perhaps you have seen this knife before?”

“I have,” Garcilosa replied.

“Yes, it was a gift; a gift from my new friend.  Yes, the Black Robe and I are now allies.  We – ah – understand each other and have come to an arrangement.”

“I see.”

“No, no you do not see,” Lo-Huitzlapoch retorted, “Not yet.  But you will.  Oh yes, you will see.

*                                  *                                  *                                                *

Xlenca paced by the fire.  They had pushed hard through the day stopping only when the mastodons needed to rest.  At last with the darkness falling fast upon them, Quezoema had called a halt to their journey.  The Great Beasts had simply been too fatigued to continue.  Both now lay on their sides beside the trail, their deep snores echoing through the clearing.  The Spanish courtier and the two other Beast Riders were undisturbed by the sound as all reclined in slumber beside the campfire.  Xlenca stared almost enviously at their peaceful faces.  He felt awash in a sea of exhaustion but sleep continued to flee from him. 

A ragged vision rose up in his mind, a memory of that fearful dawn so long ago.  He saw once more Marta lying stretched out upon the altar while a sun priest hovered above her, the blade of his obsidian knife dripping with blood.  But then her face changed, first to that of Ma-Zena and then to Cue-Ahmma.  Xlenca grunted in dismay and shook his head fiercely to free his mind of the vision.  He could not, would not, allow such a thing to occur.  He had already lost one person whom he had loved to a sun priest’s knife.  He would not lose another.

But even as he struck his open palm with his fist in grim determination, a chill root of fear curled around his heart.  How could he succeed?  What could four men, even with a pair of mastodons, do against the hordes of city guardsmen and Sun Warriors who were sure to be arrayed against them?  They would not only be facing the sun priest Lo-Huitzlapoch and his minions but also the soldiers of the empire.  For reasons he could not understand, the Stewards had chosen to accept the leadership of the sun priest and would likely bar their way.  There had to be some way to save their friends.  There must, he thought, be something that he could do but what?

Almost absent mindedly he pulled a message belt from his bed roll.  It was one of the myriad that Master Tu-Tuoan had prepared in an attempt to record the words of the Spanish priest concerning his God.  Xlenca gazed at the twists and knots of colored string and read once more its enigmatic message.  God sent Son, he read, to die.  So all live forever.  What did it mean?  Could one sacrifice truly end the need for the continual shedding of blood?  Would a God really allow Himself to be killed?  Why would He?  If He did not have the power to save Himself, could He save others?  Would He even want to?  Xlenca shook his head forcibly in a futile attempt to rid himself of these thoughts.

He slowly stepped away from the fire.  Lifting his face upward he surveyed the darkness overhead.  A faint mist swirled through the night sky, dimming the brightness of its stars and constellations.  The heavens itself seemed so dismayed that it sought to hide its face from the earth.  Xlenca could not help but feel that his gods had deserted him.  Who then could he turn to?  His old Master Tu-Tuoan had been touched by the God of the foreign priest and his own sister had begun to seek out this Jesus.  Was He the answer?  Should the young Beast Master completely forsake the old ways and turn to this new God?  Then for a moment a gap appeared in the thin veil of clouds.  A meteor blazed brightly through the opening and then was gone.  Xlenca gasped in wonderment at this sign and felt a peace beginning to settle around his heart.  He sat back against a tree and in an instant was fast asleep.

*                                  *                                  *                                    *

The sun priest at last relented and consented to cease the march and allow the prisoners to rest.  They collapsed exhausted by the side of the trail and did not even awaken when their guards had dragged them into the clearing.  The captives had been lashed to the trunk of a great tree and were now surrounded by the sprawled forms of the slumbering Sun Warriors.  Had the prisoners not been exhausted, escape would have been difficult.  In their present state it was impossible.  Lo-Huitzlapoch silently surveyed the scene and satisfied with the work of his guardsmen, lit a torch from the camp fire and stepped into the darkened forest.

Striding to a large flat rock bathed in moonlight, he thrust the torch into the soft forest floor and pulled a small stone statue from a leather sack.  It was a diminutive copy of the idol residing in the secret building back at the Great Hill barracks.  Placing the icon reverently on the flat rock Lo-Huitzlapoch reached again into the bag to pull out a tiny straw figure.  The size of a child’s toy it was the woven form of a mastodon.  The sun priest placed the effigy on the rock before the idol and settled to his knees before it.  He began a low rhythmic chanting and rocked back and forth.  The speed and intensity of the ritual grew until at last he lit a taper from the torch and thrust it into the straw figurine.  An eerie green flame burst from the miniature and for a brief second washed over the man with its strange light.  In seconds the figure was consumed by the flame and reduced to ash.  

Lo-Huitzlapoch rose slowly to his feet, his lips curling into a slight smile.  It was now time to complete the ceremony.  He motioned with his arm, summoning his assistants into the clearing.  Stepping into the firelight two of his most loyal guardsmen half carried the Sun Warrior who had attempted to molest the captive girl.  The man’s head lolled to one side and he moaned softly.  The sleeping draught had been most effective.  Lo-Huitzlapoch’s grin widened as he waved them forward.  All of the gods lusted for blood.  The Sun God desired the blood of virgins most of all while the Old One craved that of newborns, or better yet, babes ripped bloody direct from the womb.  The native priest had done all in his power to meet that dark need and felt certain that the Nameless One would accept this sacrifice as a substitute.  Blood was blood.

The sun priest drew the Spanish dagger from his cloak and held it high in the moonlight.  The drugged Sun Warrior shook his head from side to side in an attempt to clear his befuddled brain.  The firelight flashing off the steel blade caught his eye and he stared transfixed at its cold beauty.  The man’s eyes widened in fear as Lo-Huitzlapoch jerked his head back to expose his throat.  The Sun Warrior opened his lips as if to speak but all sound was cut off as the dagger’s razor edge slashed deeply into his neck.  Blood poured from the wound to splash over the stone idol and drench the flat rock in crimson gore.  The knife flashed again and plunged into the back of the man’s neck sliding between the vertebrae to severe the spinal cord.  The man shuddered and went still.

While the two guardsmen dragged the corpse away the sun priest paced around the flat rock, studying the pattern of the blood flow.  The augury was promising.  The gods were pleased and all the omens indicated certain success.  They would be at the capital on the morrow and would soon be joined by his forces from the Great Hill Barracks.  He would make the necessary sacrifices at the Great Temple and would gorge the Sun God on virgin blood.  The curse the fish-men had placed upon the Ixtec people would be broken and the deathly illness it had caused would be cast aside. 

The People would know.  They would recognize who had saved them and who had restored their power.  Then the time would be ripe, the moment ready for him to make his move.  At that instant he the Lord Lo-Huitzlapoch, High Priest of the Great Temple, would appear and ride triumphant down the Avenue of the Empire upon his bull mastodon.  None would dare to oppose him.  The Council of Stewards would acquiesce to his every demand.  They would have no choice.  Then the past would be swept aside and he would meet his destiny.  He would no longer be the failed Quetzolite apprentice or even just the High Priest of the Sun, he would be more.  He would be emperor.

*                                  *                                  *                                    *

 D’Amarco remained uncomfortable with the whole arrangement.  Riding upon one of these great hairy beasts was nothing like riding a horse and he was not enjoying the experience.  The box atop the mastodon was small and cramped and he could not seem to find a comfortable position.  His legs were getting numb and his back ached.  But every time that he attempted to shift his weight and ease his discomfort, the Beast Master turned to glare at him.  The older warrior did not completely trust him.  Not that he could blame him, d’Amarco silently acknowledged, he had for too long listened to his greed instead of his conscience; to the intrigues of the court rather than the teachings by which he had been raised.

With a deep sigh the Spaniard looked up to glance across the trail and watch the progress of the other half of their small force.  The younger Beast Master, Xlenca, stared stoically ahead, deep in thought but seemingly less anxious and troubled than he had been a day earlier.  His Rider, Lotec, was perched easily on the edge of the war box swaying in time to the stride of the Great Beast.  D’Amarco was coming to appreciate the younger man who seemed so intent on befriending him and teaching him some rudiments of the Ixtec language.  The courtier watched in interest as the Rider stooped forward in deep concentration.  He was engaged in a task of some sort.  Peering closely the Spaniard could see Lotec’s hands at work, deftly weaving strands of reed into a familiar yet startling shape.  He was a making a cross.

D’Amarco stared in amazement as Lotec completed his weaving and threaded the small cross onto a leather cord.  Slipping the simple cross over his head the Ixtec warrior looked down at the Christian symbol lying on his chest.  A quiet smile touched his face and he lifted two other crosses from his lap.  Stringing his earlier works onto strands of leather he held one out to his Beast Master.  Xlenca turned to view the younger man’s handiwork and paused, his face creased in thought and inner turmoil.  The Spaniard watched in silence wondering what was going through the other man’s mind.  Xlenca reached out hesitantly and took the small woven cross.  He held it in his hand for a moment and then with a determined nod slipped it over his head.

Lotec smiled and then holding up the final cross, called out to Master Quezoema.  The older man stared back a deep frown set upon his countenance and firmly shook his head.  Lotec shrugged his shoulders in reply and reached out to offer his creation to d’Amarco.  The young courtier was startled by the gesture and for a long quiet moment could only sit transfixed by the gift.  It was a simple even crude copy but it represented the holy rood.  A great flood of memories washed over his soul and threatened to overwhelm him.  He had not told Brother Sebastian the entire truth.  His grandmother had been a Jewess but she had turned her back on the faith of her forefathers for the love of his grandfather.  Her conversion to Christianity had at first only been because of her passion for him, but as she embraced his grandfather, she also came to embrace his faith. 

D’Amarco’s grandmother had shared with him the two great loves of her life.  The first was with his grand sire but the greatest was for the One who would become the center of her life; Jesus Christ.  As a boy the courtier had witnessed this great love but had always struggled to understand it.  He knew how deeply he was loved by the stately grey haired matriarch.  Smelling of lavender and fresh baked bread, she was always ready to enfold him in her arms and he had loved her back.  She did not hide from him who she was.  He had seen his grandfather’s portrait of her, the fiery raven-haired beauty with eyes of steel and he had listened as she shared the tales and traditions of her own childhood.  He also heard of her Messiah, her Jesus, including her assertion that He was the greatest of all Jews. 

He could remember when he came to think that such words were dangerous.  The Inquisition had started.  The Jews were being expelled.  Some things were best left concealed and he learned to do just that.  It was easier to abandon any search for truth and look to the answers that could be found in wine, women and wealth.  He had not worried that he might be selling his soul for he had not considered it a thing of value.  The trappings of the world and the flesh were lures he had gladly pursued.  And now, just as he was on the verge of achieving wealth and power beyond his wildest dreams, God had intervened.  The prayers of his grandmother had been answered after all this time.  Ponce d’Amarco, courtier of Spain, reached out and took the cross.

*                                  *                                  *                                    *

The small group of captives stumbled through the darkened city, their minds numb with fatigue.  Henrico felt as if he were swimming through a thick soup with lead weights for limbs.  In any moment he might falter and sink below the surface to drown in dark oily sea of slumber and despair.  The sharp blow of a spear butt between his shoulder blades wrenched him back to full consciousness.  The Benedictine resisted the urge to stare back at his tormentor in resentment and instead glanced at his fellow captives.  He was not surprised to see that the two women equally exhausted as they too struggled to maintain the brutal pace.  He was shocked however to note the appearance of the two older men.

The Beast Master Tu-Tuoan had a grim set to his face as he moved forward with the Spanish priest’s arm slung over his shoulder.  Henrico was dismayed to note the mixture of pain and weariness evident on his mentor’s visage as he limped at the side of the Ixtec elder.  His concern deepened when he spied the large spreading stain of fresh blood marring the older cleric’s trouser leg.  The young Benedictine attempted to move forward to assist with the injured man but Father Garcilosa caught his eye and shook his head.  Their guards had become more angry and more short tempered as the trek had progressed and he did not wish to risk more brutality.

An immense stone structure loomed at them out of the darkness as the group continued its laborious progress down the avenue.  Henrico shivered as he stared up at its black pyramidal shape.  There was a deep sense of foreboding emanating from the place that caught his breath and made his palms grow clammy with dampness.  The sharply sloping walls seemed to dance and waver in the flickering torchlight while the high flat top of the pyramid was caught in the silver gleam of moonlight.  As they moved nearer a sickly scent wafted over them, drifting down the stone walls to envelope them in its heavy stench.  It was the smell of blood and of death.  They had reached the Great Temple of the Sun.

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The Golden Conquest – Part 24

.           The cords around Henrico’s wrists bit into his flesh as he was shoved down the darkened trail.  They had been marching hard through the whole length of the day under the fierce sun pausing only briefly for water and not at all for food.  They continued their trek now through the early part of the night, the trail lit by torchlight, their limbs numb with fatigue.  He stumbled and almost fell but was jerked roughly to his feet by one of the infantrymen.  The young Benedictine glanced back to see the women being pulled along behind them.  A Sun Warrior held a rope looped around Ma-Zena’s hands and stepped closer to her.  He leered at the young woman and ran his hand down her side.  Henrico howled in protest and lunged at the man only to be brought up short by a spear butt in the midsection.  He crumpled to the ground struggling for breath and watched helplessly as the Sun Warrior grabbed the spear to strike him again.  Before the blow could land the man was brought up short by the cold steel of a dagger blade at his throat. 

“Enough,” Lo-Huitzlapoch snarled, wrenching the man’s head back with a fierce tug on his hair, “He needs to be able to walk.”  He leaned in closer and whispered savagely in the man’s ear, “The girl is a virgin and she will still be a virgin when we reach the Great Temple or it will be you and yours that lie under my blade.  Understand?”

The sun priest did not wait for an answer but shoved the man away and signaled for the march to resume.  Looking up, he caught Father Garcilosa eyeing the dagger suspiciously.  Grinning slyly he stepped up beside the Spanish cleric, holding the blade up in the flickering torchlight as he did.

“A beautiful thing is it not?” he said smoothly, “You fish-men do make fine weapons.  Perhaps you have seen this knife before?”

“I have,” Garcilosa replied.

“Yes, it was a gift; a gift from my new friend.  Yes, the Black Robe and I are now allies.  We – ah – understand each other and have come to an arrangement.”

“I see.”

“No, no you do not see,” Lo-Huitzlapoch retorted, “Not yet.  But you will.  Oh yes, you will see.”

*                                              *                                              *                                              *

Xlenca paced by the fire.  They had pushed hard through the day stopping only when the mastodons needed to rest.  At last with the darkness falling fast upon them, Quezoema had called a halt to their journey.  The Great Beasts had simply been too fatigued to continue.  Both now lay on their sides beside the trail, their deep snores echoing through the clearing.  The Spanish courtier and the two other Beast Riders were undisturbed by the sound as all reclined in slumber beside the campfire.  Xlenca stared almost enviously at their peaceful faces.  He felt awash in a sea of exhaustion but sleep continued to flee from him. 

A ragged vision rose up in his mind, a memory of that fearful dawn so long ago.  He saw once more Marta lying stretched out upon the altar while a sun priest hovered above her, the blade of his obsidian knife dripping with blood.  But then her face changed, first to that of Ma-Zena and then to Cue-Ahmma.  Xlenca grunted in dismay and shook his head fiercely to free his mind of the vision.  He could not, would not, allow such a thing to occur.  He had already lost one person whom he had loved to a sun priest’s knife.  He would not lose another.

But even as he struck his open palm with his fist in grim determination, a chill root of fear curled around his heart.  How could he succeed?  What could four men, even with a pair of mastodons, do against the hordes of city guardsmen and Sun Warriors who were sure to be arrayed against them?  They would not only be facing the sun priest Lo-Huitzlapoch and his minions but also the soldiers of the empire.  For reasons he could not understand, the Stewards had chosen to accept the leadership of the sun priest and would likely bar their way.  There had to be some way to save their friends.  There must, he thought, be something that he could do but what?

Almost absent mindedly he pulled a message belt from his bed roll.  It was one of the myriad that Master Tu-Tuoan had prepared in an attempt to record the words of the Spanish priest concerning his God.  Xlenca gazed at the twists and knots of colored string and read once more its enigmatic message.  God sent Son, he read, to die.  So all live forever.  What did it mean?  Could one sacrifice truly end the need for the continual shedding of blood?  Would a God really allow Himself to be killed?  Why would He?  If He did not have the power to save Himself, could He save others?  Would He even want to?  Xlenca shook his head forcibly in a futile attempt to rid himself of these thoughts.

He slowly stepped away from the fire.  Lifting his face upward he surveyed the darkness overhead.  A faint mist swirled through the night sky, dimming the brightness of its stars and constellations.  The heavens itself seemed so dismayed that it sought to hide its face from the earth.  Xlenca could not help but feel that his gods had deserted him.  Who then could he turn to?  His old Master Tu-Tuoan had been touched by the God of the foreign priest and his own sister had begun to seek out this Jesus.  Was He the answer?  Should the young Beast Master completely forsake the old ways and turn to this new God?  Then for a moment a gap appeared in the thin veil of clouds.  A meteor blazed brightly through the opening and then was gone.  Xlenca gasped in wonderment at this sign and felt a peace beginning to settle around his heart.  He sat back against a tree and in an instant was fast asleep.

*                                              *                                              *                                              *

The sun priest at last relented and consented to cease the march and allow the prisoners to rest.  They collapsed exhausted by the side of the trail and did not even awaken when their guards had dragged them into the clearing.  The captives had been lashed to the trunk of a great tree and were now surrounded by the sprawled forms of the slumbering Sun Warriors.  Had the prisoners not been exhausted, escape would have been difficult.  In their present state it was impossible.  Lo-Huitzlapoch silently surveyed the scene and satisfied with the work of his guardsmen, lit a torch from the camp fire and stepped into the darkened forest.

Striding to a large flat rock bathed in moonlight, he thrust the torch into the soft forest floor and pulled a small stone statue from a leather sack.  It was a diminutive copy of the idol residing in the secret building back at the Great Hill barracks.  Placing the icon reverently on the flat rock Lo-Huitzlapoch reached again into the bag to pull out a tiny straw figure.  The size of a child’s toy it was the woven form of a mastodon.  The sun priest placed the effigy on the rock before the idol and settled to his knees before it.  He began a low rhythmic chanting and rocked back and forth.  The speed and intensity of the ritual grew until at last he lit a taper from the torch and thrust it into the straw figurine.  An eerie green flame burst from the miniature and for a brief second washed over the man with its strange light.  In seconds the figure was consumed by the flame and reduced to ash.  

Lo-Huitzlapoch rose slowly to his feet, his lips curling into a slight smile.  It was now time to complete the ceremony.  He motioned with his arm, summoning his assistants into the clearing.  Stepping into the firelight two of his most loyal guardsmen half carried the Sun Warrior who had attempted to molest the captive girl.  The man’s head lolled to one side and he moaned softly.  The sleeping draught had been most effective.  Lo-Huitzlapoch’s grin widened as he waved them forward.  All of the gods lusted for blood.  The Sun God desired the blood of virgins most of all while the Old One craved that of newborns, or better yet, babes ripped bloody direct from the womb.  The native priest had done all in his power to meet that dark need and felt certain that the Nameless One would accept this sacrifice as a substitute.  Blood was blood.

The sun priest drew the Spanish dagger from his cloak and held it high in the moonlight.  The drugged Sun Warrior shook his head from side to side in an attempt to clear his befuddled brain.  The firelight flashing off the steel blade caught his eye and he stared transfixed at its cold beauty.  The man’s eyes widened in fear as Lo-Huitzlapoch jerked his head back to expose his throat.  The Sun Warrior opened his lips as if to speak but all sound was cut off as the dagger’s razor edge slashed deeply into his neck.  Blood poured from the wound to splash over the stone idol and drench the flat rock in crimson gore.  The knife flashed again and plunged into the back of the man’s neck sliding between the vertebrae to severe the spinal cord.  The man shuddered and went still.

While the two guardsmen dragged the corpse away the sun priest paced around the flat rock, studying the pattern of the blood flow.  The augury was promising.  The gods were pleased and all the omens indicated certain success.  They would be at the capital on the morrow and would soon be joined by his forces from the Great Hill Barracks.  He would make the necessary sacrifices at the Great Temple and would gorge the Sun God on virgin blood.  The curse the fish-men had placed upon the Ixtec people would be broken and the deathly illness it had caused would be cast aside. 

The People would know.  They would recognize who had saved them and who had restored their power.  Then the time would be ripe, the moment ready for him to make his move.  At that instant he the Lord Lo-Huitzlapoch, High Priest of the Great Temple, would appear and ride triumphant down the Avenue of the Empire upon his bull mastodon.  None would dare to oppose him.  The Council of Stewards would acquiesce to his every demand.  They would have no choice.  Then the past would be swept aside and he would meet his destiny.  He would no longer be the failed Quetzolite apprentice or even just the High Priest of the Sun, he would be more.  He would be emperor.

*                                              *                                              *                                              *

 D’Amarco remained uncomfortable with the whole arrangement.  Riding upon one of these great hairy beasts was nothing like riding a horse and he was not enjoying the experience.  The box atop the mastodon was small and cramped and he could not seem to find a comfortable position.  His legs were getting numb and his back ached.  But every time that he attempted to shift his weight and ease his discomfort, the Beast Master turned to glare at him.  The older warrior did not completely trust him.  Not that he could blame him, d’Amarco silently acknowledged, he had for too long listened to his greed instead of his conscience; to the intrigues of the court rather than the teachings by which he had been raised.

With a deep sigh the Spaniard looked up to glance across the trail and watch the progress of the other half of their small force.  The younger Beast Master, Xlenca, stared stoically ahead, deep in thought but seemingly less anxious and troubled than he had been a day earlier.  His Rider, Lotec, was perched easily on the edge of the war box swaying in time to the stride of the Great Beast.  D’Amarco was coming to appreciate the younger man who seemed so intent on befriending him and teaching him some rudiments of the Ixtec language.  The courtier watched in interest as the Rider stooped forward in deep concentration.  He was engaged in a task of some sort.  Peering closely the Spaniard could see Lotec’s hands at work, deftly weaving strands of reed into a familiar yet startling shape.  He was a making a cross.

D’Amarco stared in amazement as Lotec completed his weaving and threaded the small cross onto a leather cord.  Slipping the simple cross over his head the Ixtec warrior looked down at the Christian symbol lying on his chest.  A quiet smile touched his face and he lifted two other crosses from his lap.  Stringing his earlier works onto strands of leather he held one out to his Beast Master.  Xlenca turned to view the younger man’s handiwork and paused, his face creased in thought and inner turmoil.  The Spaniard watched in silence wondering what was going through the other man’s mind.  Xlenca reached out hesitantly and took the small woven cross.  He held it in his hand for a moment and then with a determined nod slipped it over his head.

Lotec smiled and then holding up the final cross, called out to Master Quezoema.  The older man stared back a deep frown set upon his countenance and firmly shook his head.  Lotec shrugged his shoulders in reply and reached out to offer his creation to d’Amarco.  The young courtier was startled by the gesture and for a long quiet moment could only sit transfixed by the gift.  It was a simple even crude copy but it represented the holy rood.  A great flood of memories washed over his soul and threatened to overwhelm him.  He had not told Brother Sebastian the entire truth.  His grandmother had been a Jewess but she had turned her back on the faith of her forefathers for the love of his grandfather.  Her conversion to Christianity had at first only been because of her passion for him, but as she embraced his grandfather, she also came to embrace his faith. 

D’Amarco’s grandmother had shared with him the two great loves of her life.  The first was with his grand sire but the greatest was for the One who would become the center of her life; Jesus Christ.  As a boy the courtier had witnessed this great love but had always struggled to understand it.  He knew how deeply he was loved by the stately grey-haired matriarch.  Smelling of lavender and fresh baked bread, she was always ready to enfold him in her arms and he had loved her back.  She did not hide from him who she was.  He had seen his grandfather’s portrait of her, the fiery raven-haired beauty with eyes of steel and he had listened as she shared the tales and traditions of her own childhood.  He also heard of her Messiah, her Jesus, including her assertion that He was the greatest of all Jews. 

He could remember when he came to think that such words were dangerous.  The Inquisition had started.  The Jews were being expelled.  Some things were best left concealed and he learned to do just that.  It was easier to abandon any search for truth and look to the answers that could be found in wine, women and wealth.  He had not worried that he might be selling his soul for he had not considered it a thing of value.  The trappings of the world and the flesh were lures he had gladly pursued.  And now, just as he was on the verge of achieving wealth and power beyond his wildest dreams, God had intervened.  The prayers of his grandmother had been answered after all this time.  Ponce d’Amarco, courtier of Spain, reached out and took the cross.

*                                              *                                              *                                              *

The small group of captives stumbled through the darkened city; their minds numb with fatigue.  Henrico felt as if he were swimming through a thick soup with lead weights for limbs.  In any moment he might falter and sink below the surface to drown in dark oily sea of slumber and despair.  The sharp blow of a spear butt between his shoulder blades wrenched him back to full consciousness.  The Benedictine resisted the urge to stare back at his tormentor in resentment and instead glanced at his fellow captives.  He was not surprised to see that the two women equally exhausted as they too struggled to maintain the brutal pace.  He was shocked however to note the appearance of the two older men.

The Beast Master Tu-Tuoan had a grim set to his face as he moved forward with the Spanish priest’s arm slung over his shoulder.  Henrico was dismayed to note the mixture of pain and weariness evident on his mentor’s visage as he limped at the side of the Ixtec elder.  His concern deepened when he spied the large spreading stain of fresh blood marring the older cleric’s trouser leg.  The young Benedictine attempted to move forward to assist with the injured man but Father Garcilosa caught his eye and shook his head.  Their guards had become more angry and short tempered as the trek had progressed and he did not wish to risk more brutality. An immense stone structure loomed at them out of the darkness as the group continued its laborious progress down the avenue.  Henrico shivered as he stared up at its black pyramidal shape.  There was a deep sense of foreboding emanating from the place that caught his breath and made his palms grow clammy with dampness.  The sharply sloping walls seemed to dance and waver in the flickering torchlight while the high flat top of the pyramid was caught in the silver gleam of moonlight.  As they moved nearer a sickly scent wafted over them, drifting down the stone walls to envelope them in its heavy stench.  It was the smell of blood and of death.  They had reached the Great Temple of the Sun.

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The Golden Conquest – Part 23

.           As the Dominican spoke, d’Amarco stepped forward drawing his weapon. He gripped Brother Sebastian by the arm and whispered in Spanish. “Why are we doing this? Why are we helping this pagan priest? How can you think of sacrificing Father de la Vega and Henrico to him? You had not said anything about such a thing.”

“How dare you question me?” If the Inquisition reaches an accommodation with such as Lo-Huitzlapoch to advance its cause, what is it to you?  He can have his power over the Ixtec and in return I—we shall have it over the rest of the New World. Our domain shall be pure with no unbelievers, Jews or Jew-lovers in it. As for you, you shall obey.”  D’Amarco stared at the Inquisitor, his face set and grim, his eyes cold. Wealth and power beckoned but at what price?  How much integrity would he sacrifice? How many friends? How much honor? A memory came to him, unbidden and oft suppressed, a recollection of his childhood, his past and his heritage.

Xlenca had watched the exchange with apprehension. The young swordsman was troubled and upset but had been reprimanded sharply and pushed back. The Black Robe straightened and grabbed a war club from one of the Sun Warriors.

Brother Sebastian gritted his teeth as he grasped the weapon. He would be obeyed. The will of the Inquisition would be done. His face was flushed and red as he raised the weapon to strike. The killing would begin now. The cleansing of this new land would commence and he would be the first to strike. It would be he who delivered the first death blow for the Inquisition. It would be he who claimed and received the first glory and the first power.

*                                              *                                              *                                              *

The sky was splashed red with the coming dawn, a deep red that dripped from the clouds as if it were blood.  The Barracks stirred in the chill morning air.  Everyone spoke in muffled whispers, wary of raising their voices, not wanting to attract attention.  Master Tu-Tuoan stepped from his quarters and stared out into the compound.  His forehead was furrowed in worry and a frown creased his aged face.  Approaching footsteps prompted him to turn.  The foreign warrior priest stepped toward him, a weary smile on his face.  The two men born an ocean apart but united in faith had become constant companions.  Father Garcilosa glanced into his friend’s eyes and nodded.

“I feel it also.  There is something wrong.  Something . . . unseen.”

“What do you think it is?” the Beast Master asked.

“I do not know.  But I fear it is coming.” 

The two men turned and walked toward the council chambers.  It was only a day since Xlenca and the others had left to meet Master Quezoema but the two elders felt their absence.  They had prayed for the young Ixtec’s safety and had committed to place their trust in God.  Tu-Tuoan knew that he was just a babe in this new faith but the fellowship he had with this foreign priest gave him peace.  The empire was in turmoil and everything he had ever known was in danger.  Yet he did not feel alone.

Father Garcilosa smiled, reading his friend’s mind by watching the play of emotion across his face, “Yes, what you sense is true.  God is with us.”

A cry of alarm reached their ears.  The guardsmen in the Barrack’s watch towers shouted out a shrill call and pounded out a thumping rhythm on their wooden signal drums.  The Beast Master and the Spanish priest hurried towards the front of the compound arriving in time to see Master Hai-Tumma climbing to the top of the parapet.  He noted their appearance and motioned for Tu-Tuoan to join him.  As the elderly Beast Master was assisted upward by a group of guardsmen, a hoarse chant could be heard coming from outside of the barracks.  It was the sound of an army.

The Beast Master watched as ranks of armed men stepped out of the morning mists to stand in martial array before the Barracks walls.  Fierce Sun Warriors vied for position with elite soldiers draped in jaguar skins and eagle feather cloaks.  Over three hundred of the best warriors that the empire could muster had come to stand at the gates of the Red Sun.  It was enough to cow any rebel or malcontent but Hai-Tumma was unfazed.

“Who are you?” he called, “Who are you that come before this place as if for war?  Why are you here?”

“We are here to claim what you have denied us,” an angry voice shouted.  The sun priest Lo-Huitzlapoch strode from the midst of the soldiery.  With him came two of the Stewards of the Empire.  One of them lifted his hand and shouted, “Open the gates in the name of the Empire!”  The power he represented could not be denied.  Tu-Tuoan glanced at his compatriot and slowly shook his head.  They must obey.  Within moments the inhabitants of the Barracks stood in quiet apprehension as the assembled warriors entered through the now unguarded portal.

Lo-Huitzlapoch scowled at the crowd as he moved into the compound.  His eyes flashed with hatred and the sneer on his face intensified as he noted the Spanish clerics standing with the Beast Riders.  He snarled at a troop of Sun Warriors and motioned for them to seize the two men.  The painted soldiers stepped forward but were stopped by the intervention of Tu-Tuoan.

“Stop,” he said calmly, “What do you want with these men?”

“I will tell you what I want,” Lo-Huitzlapoch snapped, his face flushed and red, “I want these invaders seized.  I want our land cleansed of this abomination and our empire restored.”  He stood before the elderly Beast Master, his lips flecked with spittle, his breath coming in ragged gasps of anger, “I want their blood.”

*                                              *                                              *                                              *

Brother Sebastian could not restrain the grin that spread over his face as he raised the war club.  Soon he would not only rid the world of yet another heathen unbeliever but he would be one step closer to the power and wealth that he so surely deserved.  He had served the Inquisition well over the years and had seen many become rich beyond imagination.  Now it was his turn.  He looked down at the two Beast Masters who were being held at his feet and clenched the war club more tightly.  These men deserved to die and he desperately wanted to do the killing.  He was poised, ready to strike.

“No,” a voice shouted and he felt a hand on his arm.

“Don’t you dare defy me a-,” the Dominican started to snarl, turning sharply.  Suddenly he stopped, the air escaping slowly from his lips.  He looked down in amazement to see the blade of d’Amarco’s sword protruding from his torso.  Brother Sebastian’s eyes widened and his lips moved to speak but no sound came.  D’Amarco leaned forward and whispered into the Inquisitor’s ear.

“I never told you about my grandmother, did I Brother?  I hid the truth about her.  I was afraid but no more.  You see, she was Jewish and I am proud of her memory.”  He placed his left hand on the cleric’s chest and pushed hard.  The Dominican’s lifeless body swayed for an instant and then began it crumple.  Before the corpse struck the ground d’Amarco moved again.  His sword swept out quick as a viper and tore out the throat of the Sun Warrior holding Xlenca.  He whirled swiftly, ducking under the war club of another warrior and thrusting his blade up between the man’s ribs.  The native soldier fell away with a scream, shocking his companions out of their lethargy.

As the first Sun Warrior staggered back clutching at his throat, Xlenca grabbed the war club from Brother Sebastian’s lifeless hands.  Still crouching he swung the weapon in an arching backhand that squarely struck the forehead of the Ixtec soldier standing over Quezoema.  Leaping to his feet, Xlenca parried a blow that had been aimed at his head and whirled to face an onslaught of angry Sun Warriors.  Quezoema groped for a weapon but was forced to roll away from the thrust of a spear.  Xlenca and d’Amarco found themselves back to back over the sprawled form of the senior Beast Master.  The remaining Sun Warriors began to move in.

Their attack was halted by the trumpeting call of a squadron of mastodons.  The other Red Sun Beast Masters and guardsmen had heard the sounds of combat and had responded in force.  Xlenca allowed a smile to touch his lips as he watched the advance of the shaggy behemoths.  The Sun Warriors were brave and more than willing to give their lives but even they had to recognize the futility of further resistance.  They hesitated momentarily and then one by one they laid their weapons down on the ground and surrendered.  The fight for the Great Hill Barracks was over.

After helping Master Quezoema to his feet Xlenca moved to kneel beside his fallen Rider.  Lotec grimaced but made no sound as the younger Beast Master probed his wound.  The spear tip had slashed deeply through the muscles of Lotec’s thigh but had missed the larger blood vessels and had not damaged the bone.  Xlenca tore a strip of cloth from his tunic and hastily bound the wound.  With a smile to his friend and companion, he motioned for two guardsmen to assist further before turning back toward Quezoema and d’Amarco.  The Spaniard stood warily sword still in hand, watching the Ixtec soldiers milling about him.  Xlenca smiled again and stepped forward, his hands spread wide with open palms uplifted.

“Friend?” he asked slowly.  D’Amarco hesitated a moment but seeing no threat nodded his head.  Wiping the blood from his sword on his trousers, he sheathed the blade and stood with hands empty and open before him.  For a moment all was still and then the Spanish courtier smiled back to his new companion.

“I think that we have acquired another ally,” Xlenca grinned at Quezoema.  The older man frowned slightly but then nodded his assent.  “What shall we do with these men?” Xlenca continued pointing at the disarmed Sun Warriors.

“Hmmm,” Quezoema grunted, “Have them questioned.  I believe they are not the villains here but rather just badly lead.  Those deemed trustworthy can be sent to join the siege on our eastern shore.  The rest shall have to be confined.  We shall do likewise with the troops from this Barracks.  Leave only enough here to maintain the compound.”

“What of Tagazuma?” Xlenca questioned, “And what of this place?”  The two men looked over at the squat building.  Even now they could still sense the evil of the place.

“Master Tagazuma shall be bound and returned to the Red Sun.  There he shall be confined until the Great Council can decide his fate.”  Quezoema’s face was blank but his eyes flashed with anger as he recalled the sights they had witnessed within the secret structure.  “He is no longer fit to walk the Path of Quetzol.  Have our men remove the females and their young from the building.  The calves are to be gelded but I am afraid the older bulls will have to be killed.”  The Beast Master grimaced and spat in the dirt.  “Then have the place burned, burned to the ground.” 

*                                              *                                              *                                              *

Henrico winced as the ropes binding his arms behind him were pulled tighter.  The Ixtec soldier finished the knot and shoved the young Benedictine forward.  The novice stumbled and fell heavily to the ground. . He struggled to his feet but was not quick enough for the native warrior who jabbed him harshly with the butt end of his spear.

“There is no need for that,” Master Tu-Tuoan frowned, stepping between the two and reaching down to help the Spaniard to his feet.

“You will not interfere, old man,” Lo-Huitzlapoch snarled, “The council has given me a free hand in dealing with these invaders.  They are our enemies and will be treated as such.”

“These men are no threat to the empire,” Tu-Tuoan replied, “And I consider them my friends.”

“You are an old fool then.  Do you not know what these demons have done?  They have placed a curse on our people.  They have cast a spell that makes our citizens sicken and die.”

“What are you saying?”

“I am saying that there is a sickness spreading through the empire.  People become feverish and then develop red spots that fill with pus, and then they die.”

“Dear Lord,” Father Garcilosa whispered as he stood fettered beside his companion, “Its smallpox.”

“These sorcerers from over the Great Eastern Sea have done this thing,” the sun priest continued to rant, “But I will stop them.  The gods of the Ixtec will put an end to this thing.  We have neglected them too long.  We have not given any of them what they need.  We have not given the Sun God what he deserves.”

“And what is that?” Tu-Tuoan asked grimly.

“Blood!” Lo-Huitzlapoch screamed, “He wants blood.  Much more blood.  Their blood!”

            “No!” a feminine voice shouted, “You must not harm him.”  The two antagonists turned to see Ma-Zena and Cue-Ahmma rushing forward.  The younger woman attempted to reach Henrico’s side but was pushed back by his guards.

“Who is this?” Lo-Huitzlapoch sneered, “More fools enamored with the enemies of our people?”  Ma-Zena attempted once more to reach Henrico but was shoved roughly to the ground by a Sun Warrior.  When she attempted to rise, the warrior leveled his spear at her throat.  Cue-Ahmma cried out in alarm and threw herself forward to interpose herself between her friend and the threat.

“Cease,” Tu-Tuoan murmured gently to the infantryman, “There is no need for further violence.”  The Sun Warrior slowly moved the tip of his weapon away from the two women but remained wary and ready.  Cue-Ahmma helped her younger companion to her feet, both of them glaring at the guard in anger.  The sun priest stepped forward to grasp her wrist roughly.

“I know you.  You are a servant girl from the Great Hill Barracks.  Run away from your duties, did you?”

“Let me go,” she snapped trying to shake her arm free, “I do not belong to you or to your pet monkey Tagazuma.  I am betrothed to Xlenca, Beast Master of these Barracks.”

“Xlenca?  Oh yes, the little spy who didn’t know his place.”  Lo-Huitzlapoch seized the young woman by the throat and held his face close to hers.  “You’re wrong, you know?  You do belong to me.  You belong to the Great Temple, to the Sun God.  I am going to remind you of that; all of you.”  Releasing his grip, the sun priest stepped back and pointed at the girl.  “Seize her.”

“No,” Ma-Zena shrieked as Sun Warriors moved quickly to snatch Cue-Ahmma’s arms.  When she flailed against them, she too was seized and held roughly.

“Who is this one?” Lo-Huitzlapoch sneered.

“I am Xlenca’s sister, you pig.  You will regret this.”

“Regret it?” the sun priest laughed, “Far from it, little one.  The Sun God desires more sacrifice.”  He reached out to stroke her cheek.  “And he especially desires virgin sacrifice.”  The girl flinched as if she had been bitten by a snake and tried to pull away.  The sun priest laughed again.

“Lo-Huitzlapoch,” Master Tu-Tuoan interjected softly, “The grand council has given you the authority to arrest these men but surely there is no need to take these women as well?  Leave them with me.  I will make certain they do not leave these barracks.”

“You really think I would give you this thing just because you ask?  Then you are truly a fool, old man.  Your kind rejected me when I was a child.  I am not a child anymore and now I have the power.  The women are mine and they will be taken to the Great Temple.”

“Then I will go with them and with these men.”

“Ha, you still think you will be able to save any of them?  Very well, you may accompany us.  Then you will see who now holds the power in this land.  You will see that your day is over.”  The sun priest strode away waving the Sun Warriors to fall in with their prisoners.  Tu-Tuoan grasped Hai-Tumma’s arm and whispered urgently in his ear before hurrying to follow.  Even as the company of soldiers began to move down the trail towards the capital, another man moved swiftly out of a side gate carrying with him the Beast Master’s desperate message.

*                                              *                                              *                                  *

The flames reached high into the sky, sending forth waves of sparks to compete with the night’s dark canopy of stars.  The smoke from the blaze had at first been a thick, oily black that drove the men back from its evil stench.  But it had become a cleansing inferno and as it worked its way through the structure, the smoke thinned and became less foul.  Now it seemed to be nothing more than just a fire.  The prevailing malevolence that had seemed to hover over the building was at last gone, driven away by the determination of the men guarding the flames.  Xlenca sighed in relief and rubbing his eyes in fatigue turned away at last.

The quarters they had commandeered were quiet and dark when he entered.  He moved silently to stand over his wounded Rider.  Lotec’s breathing was deep and undisturbed.  Xlenca could see the cloth tightly wrapped around the younger man’s leg and was pleased to observe no evidence of fresh blood on the bandage.  The Beast Master was unable to stifle a yawn as he lowered himself to the cot next to Lotec.  Perhaps, he thought, matters were at last beginning to sort themselves out.  Within moments he too had fallen deep asleep.

The dawn came too early.  The morning sun was a fierce red orb that lunged over the top of the trees to stab angry beams of lights at the sleeping Beast Riders.  Xlenca stirred from his somnolence reluctantly and pulled himself upright from the cot.  Wiping his face with his hands, he gazed out over the compound.  Heat waves were already beginning to shimmer across the packed earth of the courtyard.  The day promised to be stiflingly hot.  Xlenca wondered if the Sun God was striving to re-establish his preeminence.  The sound of Lotec stirring prompted the young Beast Master to turn away from the window.

“How are you feeling?  How is the leg?”

“It’s sore. And I’m hungry.  Do you think there’s any food left in this place?”

“I am sure we can find something.  Here, let me help you to the kitchens.”  The two men moved slowly out of the room with Lotec leaning heavily on his Master’s shoulder.  One of the guardsmen spied their slow progress and hurried forward to assist.  Moments later the wounded Beast Rider was resting in the shade of a small tree, a pair of rolled flat breads in one hand and a jug of water in the other.  Xlenca took a piece of bread for himself and headed to the animal pens to attend to Moon Dancer.  The mastodon ambled over when he called but Xlenca noticed an unusual tenseness about her.  He stroked her trunk in an effort to reassure her and moved to place forage and fresh water into her pen.

“Things will be fine, old girl,” he murmured, “We’ll soon be on our way back home.”

“I am afraid that it will not be as quick as we hoped,” a voice called and he turned to see Master Quezoema approaching.  The Spaniard d’Amarco followed tentatively behind him as both men moved to stand beside the younger Beast Master.  “I have just received a message from the Red Sun Barracks.  All is not well.”  Xlenca’s face clouded with worry as Quezoema shared the message he had received from Master Hai-Tumma.

 “The sun priest has taken the two foreign priests and Master Tu-Tuoan?”

“There is more.  Lo-Huitzlapoch has also seized the woman Cue-Ahmma, and your sister Ma-Zena.”

“What?” Xlenca exclaimed, “We must do something.”

“We shall, Master Xlenca,” Quezoema replied, “Is your Rider fit to accompany us?”  They had reached the kitchen area and Lotec struggled slowly to his feet to stand beside them.  He would not be left behind.  Xlenca took one look in his eyes and then replied affirmatively to Quezoema’s query.

“Good,” the Barracks Master continued, “Unfortunately my Rider’s wound is too serious.  He will not be fit for some time.”  He turned and looked at d’Amarco.  “Perhaps our new ‘ally’ would like to take his place.  You?” he asked pointing at the Spaniard, “Come?  With me?  To fight sun priest?”

D’Amarco stared back at the two Beast Masters, struggling to understand all their words.  Grim resolve was displayed on their faces and at last their intent was clear. He laid his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Si, yes, I go.”

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The Golden Conquest – Part 22

.           Xlenca was not so carefree. He remained troubled by the incident with the sun priest and the bull mastodon. Some of Lo-Huitzlapoch’s secrets had been revealed but Xlenca feared what else might be hidden. How could the Barracks Master Tagazuma so easily cast aside years of tradition to acquiesce to the sun priest? But then wasn’t that just what he was doing? He had turned his back on the Sun God of his people and was even now moving toward the foreign God. Was he wrong? Were the old ways failing? 

He was leaning against the wall of Moon Dancer’s pen when the shaggy beast ambled over to drape her long trunk over his shoulders. Xlenca reached up to scratch the familiar spot behind her left ear. At least she had remained constant, her quiet strength even now a source of comfort and reassurance. Yet Moon Dancer too was part of the puzzle. She had never before let herself out of her enclosure though Xlenca often thought her capable of unlatching the gate. That she had done so in time to race to the courtyard, charge and kill the bull was beyond coincidence. Someone or something had prompted her.

The young Beast Master felt an ache deep in his chest. He knew that something was missing in his life, a need that was not satisfied by family, his training, Moon Dancer or even Cue-Ahmma. He felt an empty space in his heart that none of these things could fill. Some might say the Sun God would meet this need but he knew this was not so. Could the foreign God fill this aching gap? Could this Jesu Christos be the answer? Xlenca wanted to believe in something, something beyond himself but he felt afraid and uncertain.  

“Young Master,” a voice called and he turned to see Master Tu-Tuoan approaching. The older man waved for him to join him as he continued toward the council chamber. Xlenca once again felt amazed to see this evidence of the foreign God’s power. Tu-Tuoan had truly been healed of his injury. It was a miracle.

“There is news from the siege,” the elderly Ixtec said, breaking into Xlenca’s thoughts, “Master Quezoema sends word. You are to meet him before the new moon.”

“He wishes for me to join him at the siege?”

“No, there is a matter that requires both of your attention. You are to meet him at the Great Hill village. The question of Lo-Huitzlapoch must be answered. We have seen that the Path is threatened by his deeds and we need to meet this threat.”

“Yes, Master. Ah, does the entire council feel this way?”

“Yes, our hearts are one. The council would see the Quetzolite Path defended against this sun priest and his schemes.” Tu-Tuoan looked into the younger man’s anxious countenance and smiled. “I see your thoughts. It is true that many are troubled by the pale skinned priests and their God. They would wish to deny His power and ignore the evidence.” He stopped and stood in the morning light. His back was straight and his limbs restored. A calm glow filled his face. He smiled once again.

“But I am here and not even Master Hai-Tumma can deny that. So instead, we will deal with this sun priest and hope the gods work things out amongst themselves.”

“But what of you, Master?” What do you believe?”

Tu-Tuoan stopped before the council chamber, his face alight with a broad grin. “We have walked here, young Xlenca. I on what were once crippled and useless limbs. I know to whom I owe that miracle. And to whom I owe my allegiance and my faith.”

                          *                                           *                                      *

Cuantolec was dead. The fever that had wracked his body with fierce rigors had subsided at last and his wife’s mother had hoped that the illness was subsiding. But then he had begun to cough. His eyes became glazed as blood tinged mucous seeped from his open mouth. His breathing became more and more shallow till at last with a shudder, he died. Xola had only just returned with a priest from the Great Temple. The man had surveyed the ravaged corpse and turned ashen with fear. He ordered the hut to be burned with the dead body still inside.  No one was to leave the village. All were to stay in their homes and offer prayers and sacrifice to the gods. His commands were too late.

Half the village had already fled. Cuantolec and Xola had angered the Sun God somehow and his judgment was upon them and upon any near them. Xola’s parents were already complaining of fevers and weakness and the woman’s face was marred by the first of the reddened spots. The priest saw the blemishes for they were, the marks of death. He took flight as quickly as he could, back to the safety of the capital and of the Great Temple. There would be no escape.

                                   *                                    *                                 *

“The siege is going badly.” Master Quezoema scowled as Xlenca and the other Beast Riders gathered outside the Great Hill village. “The invaders from over the great water are trapped. But we cannot reach them. Their fort is too strong and their weapons too powerful.”

“But we crushed them at the battle,” one of the younger Riders said.

“Yes, and if we can ever catch them in the open, we will do so again. You all saw and heard the thunder of their death sticks. They still use them to kill from afar. But there is more. Behind their wooden barricades they have things that roar and spit flame so that the very ground beneath us explodes. Even the Great Beasts cannot stand against these things. We have seen both man and beast torn apart by these things.”

“How can this be? The invaders were scattered like chaff when we first faced them.”

“We underestimated them,” Quezoema said, “They had never seen the Great Beasts before and the sight confused and panicked them. Once they were back in their palisade they rallied. Their fort is too strong now for us to take while they cannot break through our lines nor defeat us in open combat.”

“Then we will starve them out.”

“I fear that will not succeed either. The fort has a good supply of water and the treacherous Cempoalans have been taking food to them in the night. The foreigners have mounted one of their great thunder weapons on a large canoe. Every attempt to block the passage of the Cempoalan supply canoes has been brushed aside. I am afraid that both armies are trapped by the siege.”

“Why then are we here, Master Quezoema?”

“If I’m not mistaken,” Xlenca said, “We are here because of the sun priest Lo-Huitzlapoch.”

“Exactly.” Quezoema nodded and continued. “This rogue priest is rapidly consolidating his power in the capital. He sees the Path of Quetzol as a threat and is determined to push us aside. We know some of his motivation. He hungers for power and vengeance but we need to know more. That is why we are here.”

Without further discussion the squadron moved out. Master Quezoema took the vanguard with Xlenca at his side. The other Beast Masters fell in on either flank while the guardsmen brought up the rear. The force pushed through the jungle, following narrow paths and forest trails away from the main road and rapidly covering the final distance to the Great Hill Barracks. 

Quezoema had made his intent clear. He wanted total surprise so that the Great Hill Barracks Master would have no chance to flee or hide the evidence they hoped to find. The men were grim and determined. They had all felt the sting of Lo-Huitzlapoch’s insults and were defiantly resolute in their commitment to see their Barracks avenged. 

The shaggy haired pachyderms burst from the underbrush in a sudden dramatic surge. The watchmen barely had time to raise a cry of alarm before the charging beasts reached the barracks gateway. The barrack guards were flung aside by the thundering beasts as they desperately tried to push the heavy gates close. Other troops rushed forward in a vain attempt to defend the compound only to find themselves facing the angry snorts of the Great Beasts and the leveled spears of their Riders. The battle was over before it had begun and Quezoema’s conquest of the Great Hill Barracks was complete.

“How dare you attack us?” Tagazuma sputtered as he raced into the compound, “I demand you leave this place at once.” Quezoema nudged his mastodon forward. His Rider lowered his great spear till its obsidian blade was pointed directly at the rival Barracks Master’s heart. Tagazuma opened and closed his mouth rapidly, the color draining from his face while he stumbled backwards away from the threat.

“Where are your defenses, Master Tagazuma?” Quezoema asked, “Where are your Great Beasts? You sent only a paltry few against the invaders. Where are the rest? I know the answer. You have given them to the Sun Priest. You have failed to protect your Barracks and you have failed your duty to the Path of Quetzol.”

“You—you will leave immediately or I—I will . . ..”

“You will what? You have nothing. You are nothing.” Quezoema waved the company of Red Sun guardsmen forward. Xlenca watched as Tagazuma was taken into custody and his troops disarmed. The disposed Master continued to scream and rant as he was led away to be confined to his quarters. If Quezoema were successful, Tagazuma’s fate would be decided by the Quetzolite grand council. If not then it might be the Red Sun Beast Masters who faced arrest and punishment, possibly even execution. The gods would decide. The only question was which ones.

“Master Xlenca,” the older man called as he slid down from his Beast, “Lead me to the guarded building you told us of.” Xlenca dismounted and the two Beast Masters hurried through the compound. Soon the high stark walls of the covert structure came into view. As they moved past the low palisade and towards the darkened doorway, a pair of sentries stepped from the shadows. They were not Barracks guardsmen but were Sun Warriors and they lifted their war clubs menacingly as they advanced.

The leading Sun Warrior snarled fiercely and moved to strike when suddenly a javelin thudded to the ground between his legs. The rival soldier froze in shock and stared behind the approaching Beast Masters. Xlenca glanced over his shoulder and smiled at the sight of Lotec readying another javelin. Quezoema’s Rider stood with him along with a trio of guardsmen. The Sun Warriors sullenly lowered their weapons and backed away. Without a second look Quezoema strode forward and pushed the door open. Motioning Xlenca to follow he stepped into the gloom.

The building was windowless and lit by a row of flickering torches. One wall was lined by pens cordoned off by high, stout fences. The two Beast Masters cautiously approached the pens and peered through the slats of thick wood. The first was empty but the second held an immature bull mastodon. The young animal trumpeted in anger at the two men and charged the wall.  t struck the fence with a sound that echoed through the structure and made Xlenca step back in alarm. The fence shook from the force of the blow but held. Quezoema had not moved but continued to watch as the juvenile bull backed away, waving its short tusks threateningly from side to side as it did. The senior Beast Master moved on to the next pen. 

The next two enclosures held females, each with a young bull calf huddled beside them.  The pairs were dirty and ill kempt, their paddocks poorly maintained with little apparent care for their well-being. The following pen was also empty but the last held a huge bull mastodon. The immense beast glared at them through a doubly reinforced wall of wooden planks lashed with woven ropes. The creature was also tied with thick cords that wrapped around each limb and were fastened to heavy posts sunk into the ground.  The bull could only shuffle a few feet in any direction and could not reach the fence. The malevolent gleam in its reddened eyes told the men that its threat was real and its hatred intense.  

The two Beast Masters moved on through the building. The opposite wall held storage racks for forage and bedding and shelves for tools, harnesses and tack. A small room held a pair of cots and a bare table while in another spears, javelins and war clubs were stacked along with a complete set of war armor for the massive bull. How anyone could ever expect to get it on the beast was beyond comprehension. Further past this area was a last section guarded by a high black door painted with garish symbols and mounted by a pair of human skulls. The door was barred with a heavy beam of black stone.

Xlenca stepped forward and reached out to move the stone. It was cold beneath his palms and a sharp chill raced up his arms. The slab was a deep black color which seemed to absorb any bit of light which landed upon it. Xlenca pulled his hand back sharply as if struck. A feeling of dread came over him. He began to inch away, his breath coming in short quick gasps. Master Quezoema moved ahead and placed a hand upon the younger Beast Master’s shoulder.

“I feel it also,” he said, “This is a place of evil.” The two men glance at each other and then grasped the stone beam and cast it aside. It fell to the ground with a loud crash. Quezoema pushed the door open and looked into the room. A red tinged light seemed to pervade the room and a foul stench assaulted their nostrils.  The two Ixtec shuddered and stepped forward.

Against the wall sat a great stone head. Standing as tall as a man the figure had been carved from a single block of black volcanic stone. It was ugly and squat, with a gaping mouth and a broad protruding tongue. Massive carved hands jutted out from its side to hold a large golden bowl. The bowl was stained and caked with a thick layer of dried blood. Human blood Xlenca assumed, glancing at the piles of bones lying at the base of the statue. And then something caught his eye. Stepping forward he peered into the cavernous maw of the stone idol. The mouth opened into a broad gullet that had been hollowed out of the rock. It was not empty.

At first the young Beast Rider was unsure of what he was seeing. Then as his eyes adjusted more to the gloom he gasped in horror and pulled away. The darkened space before him had been filled with innumerable tiny human skulls. Untold numbers of newborn babes had been sacrificed to this demonic deity. Some of the skulls were so small and fragile that they could only have come from a child still in the womb.  Xlenca could not understand. Not even the Ixtec’s Sun God accepted the sacrifice of children or babes. What did this mean?

He felt a bitter taste of bile rise in his throat as he turned away. Part of him wished that he had not come here, that he had never seen these things. He dropped to one knee and spat to clear his throat and his mind. Quezoema moved forward to stare into the depths of the black idol. His face was pale and tight when he stepped back to help Xlenca to his feet.

“Why?” the younger man said, “What is this—this thing?”

“It is an abomination. One of the older gods that our people long since cast away, a god of death, of destruction and of power. It is the god Lo-Huitzlapoch has chosen to follow. He must be stopped. He will be stopped.” 

The two men hurried back to the building’s entrance, the idol’s evil presence clinging to their forms like soot. They wanted nothing more than to reach the open air and feel the cleansing warmth of sunlight once more on their faces. They held their breath as they raced for the doorway, not wanting to allow any more of the structure’s foul air into their lungs. They burst through the doorway as a man might break the surface of a stagnant pool and gulped in once more the fresh scent of day. It was then that the Sun Warriors attacked.

As the pair of Ixtec emerged from the shadows, a dozen of the enemy warriors emerged around the edge of the structure with weapons poised to strike. The startled Beast Riders were chilled by the mechanical and silent attack. Xlenca was shocked to see that the Sun Warriors were led by two of the invaders from over the Great Sea.

The Sun Warriors surged ahead, viciously efficient in their assault. Within moments the battle was over. Quezoema’s Rider lay motionless and perhaps dead from a blow to the head while Lotec had been downed by a spear thrust to the thigh. Two of the guardsmen had been bludgeoned senseless while the third lay in a pool of blood, a javelin protruding from his back. The two Beast Masters had borne no arms other than their rods and were quickly surrounded and subdued. They were forced to kneel beside their stricken Riders and face the approach of the foreign commanders. Xlenca recognized the leader of the two. It was the black cowled priest who had been amongst the captives given to Lo-Huitzlapoch, the one called Sebastian. With him was the young Spanish swordsman with the head wound.

“You should not come here,” the Inquisitor said slowly in the Ixtec language. His accent made him difficult to understand but none missed the anger in his tone. “Now you die.”

“Why?” Quezoema said, “Why are you aiding the Sun Priest? He does not believe in your God?”

“Ha,” Brother Sebastian said with a snort, “That not matter.  We have—what is word—an understanding. There power and wealth to share. Many die first. You now but others also.”

Xlenca jerked his head up. “Who? What do you mean?”

“I tell you.” The Spanish cleric leaned close, his face an ugly sneer. “Lo-Huitzlapoch is going to your place. All against us will be taken. Many die under his knife. First will be the priest Garcilosa and his pet dog, Henrico!”

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The Golden Conquest – Part 21

.           It was an immense bull and mounted astride its broad neck was the sun priest Lo-Huitzlapoch. The Followers of the Quetzolite Path were stunned into shocked silence by the sight.  

No one in living memory had ever ridden upon a bull mastodon. Only the legendary Quetzol had ever done so. Since that time the Riders of the Great Beast had wisely chosen to mount themselves upon females only. These alone possessed the temperament that allowed man and Beast to forge a union that melded them into a single force. The female mastodons would follow the directions and commands of her Master and Rider while the bull mastodon could simply not be controlled. It would obey no man and could just as easily attack its companions as the enemy before it. It was just too dangerous to be taken as a mount. Or so all had believed.

The Beast which Lo-Huitzlapoch rode was an immense shaggy creature. It possessed four tusks—two, long and spiraled, hung from its upper jaw while smaller straighter ones jutted from the lower jaws. All had their bases wrapped with broad bands of gold and their tips sharpened like spear points. The bull was covered in black leather armor trimmed in red and studded with gold and it wore a gilded head piece topped with high black plumes. Its eyes were small and rimmed in red and as it swung its great trunk from side to side and stamped its huge feet, the Barracks guardsmen fell back in confusion and fear. The creature strained forward, a tremor moving through its haunches, until the Sun Priest spoke harshly to it and struck it over its left ear. Only then did it become still.

Lo-Huitzlapoch scowled at the men standing before him as three score of Sun Warriors filed in to assemble behind the bull mastodon. The Sun Priest held a golden rod tipped and barbed with obsidian. He pointed down at the assembled forces, and screeched venom at them all. “Why have you defied the Sun God? Why have you turned aside from your appointed duty?”

“And who are you to invade this place?” Master Hai-Tumma said, stepping forward into the foremost rank.

“I? I am the High Priest of the Great Temple and I am here by the will and power of the great God of the Sun.”

“You are no Quetzolite. How do you dare to defy our laws and traditions and ride upon this poor creature?”

“You are right, old man, I do not subject myself to a way and a teaching bereft of power and strength. I do not follow old myths but am led by the fearsome might of the Sun God. I answer to him alone. Even the Stewards have acknowledged this.”

“What do you want?” Hai-Tumma’s face remained calm but a red flush of anger rose above the collar of his tunic.

“I have come to take hold of the foreign prisoners which you have failed to deliver to the capital.”

“They are yours to take. We had heard rumors of unrest so turned aside to our Barracks to ensure that they could be delivered safely.”

“There was no unrest,” Lo-Huitzlapoch said with a sneer, “The old ways are passing.  The Sun God demands more blood and all who oppose him will be swept aside.”

“Some traditions will not pass away, as you can see,” the Beast Master replied. He lifted his arm and the Barracks guard parted to allow a squadron of mounted mastodons to move into position flanking Hai-Tumma. “The prisoners will be delivered to you immediately.” The bull mastodon shifted nervously and Lo-Huitzlapoch struck it a second time. He glowered down at Hai-Tumma in silence. The uneasy standoff continued until the tightly bound prisoners were led forward. The sun priest watched in satisfaction as they were handed over to his warriors, but then his face clouded when he spotted Father Garcilosa and Henrico standing amongst the Ixtec.

“Those ones. Do you dare to keep them from me? Their blood too is demanded.”

“No,” Master Tu-Tuoan said with a shout, stepping into view. A gasp arose from amongst the guardsmen who had seen him crippled but had not since his healing. “This one is a warrior priest of the God from over the Great Water. His God is powerful and this priest is now under our protection.”

“What?” Lo-Huitzlapoch lurched upright, his face twisted with anger. “You dare?”

 Tu-Tuoan only smiled and the squadron of mastodon took a step forward while the guardsmen leveled their spears. The sun priest looked around the compound surveying the standoff. At last he spoke icily while gesturing to Henrico, “That one? Is he a warrior priest also?”

“He is the other’s apprentice, and thus . . .”

“No. No, he is no priest, no warrior. I claim him for the Great Temple.”

“We have judged otherwise,” Master Tu-Tuoan said.

“You have judged? No, it is the Sun God who will judge. This pale skinned apprentice shall be tested. If he passes the test, he is yours to keep. If not, his blood will honor the Sun God.”

“Very well, what do you propose?”

“He must simply stand; stand unmoving while my mount . . . inspects him. If you or he refuses then my men will just take him and his master. And if any man dares to interfere, we will do the same.” The sun priest lifted his rod and his soldiers tensed, ready to attack. Tu-Tuoan and Hai-Tumma spoke briefly to each other and then the senior Beast Master stepped to the two Spanish clerics.

“Are you willing?” he whispered to them, “I would not allow you to be taken easily but I fear many would perish.”

“Henrico,” Father Garcilosa said gripping his young charge’s shoulders, “I am not sure how but I know that God will be with you and through Him you will pass any test. Trust Him and He shall deliver you.” The Benedictine novice looked into the older man’s eyes. 

Swallowing hard he nodded his assent.

The opposing forces separated to allow the ordeal to proceed. The Sun Warriors formed up in tight ranks on one side of the splintered gates with the prisoners held behind them. The guardsmen and the squadron of mastodons stepped back to the side walls. Master Tu-Tuoan led Henrico to the center of the compound and backed away. Father Garcilosa slipped to his knees and began to pray. Henrico watched wide eyed as the sun priest prodded the huge bull mastodon to the opposite side of the enclosure. He felt his palms grow wet and his mouth dry as the immense beast turned to stare at him with reddened eyes. The beast pawed the ground and shook its head in anger. One thought was repeated over and over in his mind, ‘Save me, Lord.’

Henrico felt a tremor go through his body and he shifted from foot to foot. He glanced over at Father Garcilosa. The priest looked into his eyes and gave a slight smile. Everything seemed to grow quiet and still for Henrico. An unexplainable peace settled over him and he turned back to face his nemesis. It seemed as if everything was moving in slow motion. He saw the bull mastodon raise it trunk to trumpet its anger but heard nothing. He watched as it lowered its head and charged but still felt no fear. 

The young Benedictine could feel the ground shaking beneath his feet as the sun priest’s mount pounded towards him. The surrounding Ixtec soldiers and Spanish prisoners watched the unfolding drama in fearful anticipation. The bull mastodon was headed straight at Henrico, intent on crushing him. The bull pounded closer. Henrico wanted to close his eyes but could not. He knew that he was going to die, pounded into a bloody pulp beneath the bull’s massive feet, yet still a tranquil calm filled his being.

At that moment another form appeared. Charging through a gap in the Barracks guardsmen, a brownish grey blur raced forward. Unattended by any man Moon Dancer was attacking. The female mastodon moved with a speed that seemed impossible for her immense bulk. The bull mastodon, his fierce anger focused on the frail human before him, was unaware of the impending assault until Moon Dancer struck. Her lowered tusks slipped beneath the bull’s leather armor and with a jerk of her head, sliced upward into his unprotected belly and flanks. The sharpened tusks sliced deeply into his flesh and the bull stumbled. Moon Dancer continued her charge, lowering her head to strike her broad forehead against the bull’s side.

Lo-Huitzlapoch’s mount bellowed in pain and twisted away from Moon Dancer. His momentum carried him past the wide-eyed Benedictine and the beast staggered to its knees. The bull struggled to regain its feet, a pool of blood spreading beneath it. It raised its trunk to give a last defiant trumpet. Then a shudder coursed through its body and the bull fell heavily onto its side, throwing the sun priest to the dirt. The bull mastodon was dead.

Sun Warriors raced forward to lift their fallen lord to his feet. Lo-Huitzlapoch was uninjured but his face was livid. Shaking off the hands of his followers, he glared at the gore splattered beasts before him and screamed. “No one was to interfere. I commanded it.”

“No, Lord Huitzlapoch,” Tu-Tuoan said, “You said no man should interfere. As you can see, this mastodon was not led or ridden by any man. The God from over the Great Water has spoken. The pale skinned one has passed your test.”  The sun priest stared at the elderly Beast Master, his jaw clenched and his eyes flashing. What would have been a close fight before was now hopeless. 

“You have defied the Sun God,” he said, “And you will suffer for it. He is a jealous god and will not tolerate foreign gods. His wrath will descend upon any who do not submit to his will.” Lo-Huitzlapoch waved his hand over the assembled Beast Riders and guardsmen and shouted his curses, “You have been warned.” He turned and stalked from the compound and the Sun Warriors filed out after him leading the Spanish prisoners with them.

Henrico stared after the departing Sun Priest. As he watched, a Sun Warrior approached the priest with one of the prisoners. At first the Ixtec cleric seemed ready to strike both men but then he paused to listen as the black clad foreigner spoke to him. Henrico felt a sudden tremor inch up his spine. When Lo-Huitzlapoch continued away from the Red Sun, it was with the Spanish Inquisitor at his side.   

* * * *

Xola yawned and rubbed the back of her neck. Since Cuantolec had returned from the war against the pale skinned invaders she had had no rest. The initial excitement of his safe return had faded when he had become ill. He had a high fever with chills and tremors, and had then developed small red spots on his face and mouth. The spots became pustules and were spreading to the rest of his body. Xola had done the best she could for her ailing husband, washing away the blood and pus from the bursting sores, feeding and comforting him. She tenderly cooled his fevered brow with wet cloths one moment and held him close the next when a chill coursed through his body.*

She did not understand this terrible illness that afflicted Cuantolec. Nor did the village elders. They had never seen anything like it and some wondered if the couple had offended one of the gods. They helped Xola at first but then admitted their failings. She must go to the capital and see the priests at the Great Temple. If she made a large enough sacrifice perhaps the gods would relent and allow Cuantolec to live. 

Xola and her mother loaded a hand cart with brightly woven baskets filled with fruit and flowers. They worked hard to prepare the offering and now she would take the gifts to the Temple priests while her parents cared for the ailing Cuantolec and their children. She prayed that her journey would be a success. If it was not, she did not know what she would do. Xola sighed and wiped her forehead. Her head was beginning to ache and she felt warm. For a moment she wondered if she too was becoming ill but cast the thought away. She was just tired.

The mood at the Red Sun Barracks remained tense. Some of the Ixtec were openly hostile to the Spanish clerics and to any claims concerning their God. A smaller group was supportive and even sought to learn more about Him. Most were simply confused and just wished that things could just return to the way they were before. All knew that that would never be the case. The world was different and so were all those in it.

Henrico felt the changes. He had seen the manifest power of God over the past few days and he had felt God’s hand on his own life. Yet there was much that still troubled him. He had had to admit that God loved him. He had seen and felt that truth when he had faced the charging bull mastodon but he still could not fully understand it. The young Benedictine did not feel worthy of God’s love.  He had not earned such love. Could he ever? Father Garcilosa had told him that God’s hand was on him, but for what purpose? 

The things his half-brother had told him had made his childhood seem like a pointless illusion. His time at the monastery in Salamanca was often unhappy and unfulfilling, but was at least based on a truth that he could understand. Now doubt seemed the only certainty. He wanted to accept God’s leading, to follow His will, but things were becoming more confused and disordered. Was he meant to be a monk or even a priest? Or was he meant for something else? He had not questioned the direction of his life before but did so now.

Part of his confusion was something he had never previously encountered. A shy smile, a fluttering eyelash, the curve of a neck, these were things he had seen before but had never so fascinated and captivated him. But now he had met a young woman who had changed all that. The sound of her voice so like the song of the sweetest birds, caused his heart to skip and his thoughts to swirl in bemused meanderings. When she was nearby, he felt tongue tied and clumsy.  Any attempt to speak was thwarted by words that stuttered and stumbled and seemed to fall to the earth before they could pass from his lips. He felt baffled by her presence but lost when she was not around.

Henrico sighed and slumped to the earth. He stared out into the compound and cradled his head in his hands. Was his bewilderment a sign from God? Were the feelings in his heart a gift from the Lord? Why could he not make up his mind? A small brown bird fluttered to the ground at his feet and began to peck at a scattering of seeds. The bird tipped its head quizzically to the side and gazed into his face with its small black eyes. The fledging chirped once, twice and then flew away. Consider the birds of the air . . . your heavenly Father feeds them.  Are you not worth more than they? . . .  Be anxious for nothing but in everything by prayer and supplication let your requests be known to God. Henrico sighed again. He would pray and he would wait.

“Young one,” a voice called, and Henrico looked up to see the Beast Rider Lotec approaching. He shook off his lethargy and rose to his feet. The native warrior motioned to the Benedictine to follow as Henrico reached his side.

“What is it?”

“The old priest calls for you.  He has duties for you to attend to.”

Henrico dipped his head and trudged behind the Beast Rider. There were always duties to attend to. If it was not helping Father Garcilosa with the Ixtec language or instructing s on the basics of the faith, it was manual labor about the Barracks. The young Spaniard enjoyed the work and remained awestruck by the Great Beasts, but had soon realized that there were few things worse than shoveling mastodon dung. And there was always so much of it.

            Lotec was not leading the Benedictine novice to the animal pens however. Henrico wondered at his broad smile as he motioned for him to enter one of the barracks. Waiting for them in the room were Cue-Ahmma and Xlenca’s sister, Ma-Zena.

“You are to teach these two more of your God and of your language,” Lotec said, “Master Tu-Tuoan and your master have decided it should be so.”

“And you had nothing to do with it?” Cue-Ahmma said with a laugh.

Ma-Zena smiled shyly as a deep blush that crept up Henrico’s neck. The Benedictine exhaled sharply as the Beast Rider elbowed him in the side. Lotec chuckled softly as he pushed him into the room. “I know you will carry out your duties most . . . diligently. I will leave you now.”

The language lesson went well. The two maidens were quick to learn the Spanish words Henrico shared and proved adept at correcting any errors he made with the Ixtec tongue. The determination they showed insured a success. After spending the morning deep in study, the growing heat of the day forced them to retreat out of doors. Soon after, Cue-Ahmma announced that it was time for a break. She arose and said she would return with some bread and fruit from the kitchens.

Left alone beneath the spreading green canopy of a large tree the two young people sat in quiet serenity, both shy to be the first to speak. A brightly colored bird flew into the branches above them, its raucous cry frightening out a host of smaller birds. Henrico and Ma-Zena leapt to their feet in surprise. The parrot stared down at them, spreading his wings and shaking his head as if to scold their truancy. Laughing brightly Ma-Zena gracefully settled back to the ground, moving a little closer to Henrico as she did.

“I think he’s saying to get back to work. What is he called in your tongue?”

“Ah, he is an ‘ave’,” the young Spaniard said, “A ‘loro’; a parrot.”

“And what do you call this?” Ma-Zena asked pointing to her feet.

“That is your “pie’; your foot.”

“And this?”

“Uh, that is—uh—my ‘brazo’; my arm.” The young maiden withdrew her hand to stroke the long braid which fell over her shoulders.

“And this?  What is this called?”

“Your ‘cabello’,” Henrico pulse began to pound in his temples. “Your ‘pelo’; your beautiful hair.”

Ma-Zena moved her hand upward, her fingertips brushing against her lips. “What is your word for these? What do you call them?”

“I—I can’t remember,” he said, a bright flush rising in his cheeks. He reached out to touch her cheek and she leaned her head into his palm. The two young people slowly moved their faces forward, their lips prepared to meet in the gentle caress of a first kiss.

“I hope you’re hungry,” Cue-Ahmma called out loudly as she came around the out-building; “I have enough food for a whole troop.” She smiled gaily and pretended not to notice as the two were quick to shuffle further apart. “Have you been working on the lesson?  I’m certain that you made great progress. Why you are all flushed from the exertion. You must have been working too hard. Why don’t we forget the lesson for a time and just enjoy the day?” Unable to hold back any longer, Cue-Ahmma broke out in joyful laughter. Within moments Ma-Zena and Henrico had joined her.

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The Golden Conquest – Part 20

.           Henrico stared at the warrior. “What? Me? You—you should ask Padre Garcilosa.”

“No, you tell me. I do not trust priests. You are not a priest.  You are just a man like me. You tell me.”

“Uh, well, that is—ah, very well,” the young novice said, “I will try.” But where to beginhe thought, Adam and Eve? Moses? Daniel and the Israelites? And then a scripture came into his mind, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” His fear seemed to lessen. It would be difficult and slow but he would try. He looked at the Ixtec warrior and began to speak.

The rest of the day passed quickly. Lotec and Henrico remained deep in conversation but never lagged behind. As evening fell, they moved nearer to the column. They settled enough to the other troops to be within the force’s protective perimeter, but not so close as to encourage any interaction. When a young woman approached with food for their evening meal Xlenca left the fire to meet her. They spoke in low tones before the Beast Master returned with the provisions. The small group ate in silence, each man seemingly deep in thought and then settled down to rest.  The two Ixtec warriors quickly drifted off to sleep and Father Garcilosa was soon quiet.

Henrico was unable to sleep. He had answered the Beast Rider’s questions about God firstly out of fear of angering the fierce warrior and then out of sense of duty. Still, as he had spoken with Lotec, more and more scripture verses came into his mind. He found his own heart responding to the words he shared. He shifted restlessly beneath his blanket and sat up to gaze about the darkened clearing. The scattering of small campfires could not compete with the vivid canopy of stars over his head. He stared upward for a moment and then slipped away from the other men. Moving a short distance away, he sat down and once again looked heavenward.

Doubts raced through his mind. What to believe? Should he follow his mind and his emotions? They told him that he was alone, that his father and brothers had rejected him and that even his mother had failed him. He was not loved because he was not lovable. He was not worthy. But his heart, his spirit, said otherwise. It stirred in his breast as if responding to music that his ears could not hear. When I consider Thy heavens, the works of Thy fingers, the moon and the stars which Thou hast ordained; what is man that Thou dost consider him? And the son of man, that Thou dost care for him? Henrico lowered his eyes as then the rest of the verse came to him. Yet Thou hast made him a little lower than God, and dost crown him with glory and majesty!

But why did he feel alone? I will never leave you nor forsake you. Henrico knew that he had turned away from God. Wouldn’t God reject him? A bruised reed He will not break, and a dimly burning wick He will not extinguish. There was a wall around his heart, a wall that Henrico had made himself. How could anyone, even God get through? Neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus.

Could he really return to God? Allow the children to come to Me; do not hinder them; for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it at all. Like a child? He had never felt the love of his father and the death of his mother had shattered his childhood. A father to the fatherless . . . is God in His holy dwelling. For the first time in his life, Henrico could feel a father’s arms wrapping themselves around him as a warmth flooded through his soul. Tears began to trickle down his cheeks and he raised his arms to receive God’s love. Abide in Me, and I in you. Just as the Father has loved Me, I have also loved you; abide in My love.

The stars shone brighter than ever before.

By mid-afternoon they had reached the Red Sun Barracks. Xlenca watched as the column dispersed, the infantrymen to their homes and the Spanish prisoners into an empty calving barn. As he slid down off of Moon Dancer’s broad back, he was startled by an excited cry from behind him. He turned just in time to open his arms before a young woman leapt into them. Xlenca was shocked speechless for a moment as the raven-haired beauty held him tightly. He broke the embrace with care and held her gently by the shoulders, his questioning gaze searching her face. She only smiled back at him and embraced him once more.

“Ma-Zena, why are you here?” 

“Our parents sent me,” she said, still holding tight to his arm, “There is trouble in the capital. Many of the old Beast Masters have been arrested by the guards of the Great Temple, some with their entire families. Father thought it might be safer for me here.”

“But where are they?”

“Father refused to leave his home—stubborn as usual—and Mother would not leave without him. But Father said it was likely nothing. The capital is alive with rumors and gossip. Accusations have been made by the new High Priest and claims that the Empire has been invaded because we have neglected the Sun God. Father is sure that once the foreigners have been driven away everything will return to normal.”

“I hope he is right Little Bird, but I am not so sure.” The two siblings turned as they heard others approaching. Lotec stepped closer, a mischievous grin on his face. He held onto Cue-Ahmma’s arm and pulled the reluctant woman forward. Their two Spanish prisoners stood watching a pace behind.

“Master Xlenca,” the Rider said, “I think you might wish to introduce this young woman to our company.”

Cue-Ahmma frowned and shook her arm free. “Perhaps they want to be alone.”

             Xlenca let his head fall back and a hearty laugh broke forth from his throat. Looking back at Cue-Ahmma he took her hand and smiled. “Cue-Ahmma, this is my sister Ma-Zena. Ma-Zena, this is Cue-Ahmma my soul-friend.” The two young women looked shyly at each other, embarrassed and surprised at Xlenca’s words. They smiled at each other and stepped forward to hug each other.  Xlenca grinned at them and waved his hand toward the other men.

“And this is Lotec my Rider and my friend, and these are our two—uh—guests from over the Great Water.  They are named Padre Garcilosa and Henrico.” The Spanish priest bowed courteously to the young woman but Henrico stood with his mouth gaping wide. Father Garcilosa nudged his young novice in the ribs to break the spell. The Benedictine novice blushed and dropped his eyes.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, senorita,” the older cleric said, “Your brother has been a kind host.”

“You speak our language very well,” Ma-Zena said, “Are you not prisoners?”

“The Padre is a warrior-priest,” Xlenca said, “And has given his pledge of good conduct. He is favored by his God and it was deemed best to grant him more freedom.” He watched as the Ixtec maiden studied the two foreigners. Henrico glanced up and their gazes met. Her smile returned to her face as the young Spaniard blushed once more looked away. She took Cue-Ahmma by the arm and turned to go.

“I know that you will want to see to Moon Dancer, my Brother,” she said, “Cue-Ahmma and I will prepare a meal. It will give us a chance to speak. We will need to learn of each other . . . if we are to be sisters.”

The four men, native and foreign, stood watching the young women as they strolled away deep in animated conversation. Their heads were close together and the sound of their laughter could be heard above the tumult of the busy courtyard. They paused to glance back toward the men and laughed again. Xlenca shook his head in wonderment. He looked at Lotec with a grin and passed him Moon Dancer’s bridle. The old mastodon was much easier to understand than women were.

Xlenca wished that he could go with him but he needed to deal the foreign clerics. It would no longer be easy to keep them isolated. Other arrangements were needed and he must seek direction from his elders. After ordering Lotec to put Moon Dancer in her pen under the care of their apprentice, he led the two Spaniards toward the Barrack’s council chambers where Master Tu-Tuoan and Master Hai-Tumma would be waiting.

Xlenca was shocked at the sight of his previous Master.  The older Beast Master had aged over the past few months. His braided hair had been black shot through with streaks of grey but was now pure white. His once sturdy frame was now gaunt and shrunken. He was lying on a straw pallet near the back of the room with his wasted lower limbs twisted and bent beneath him. When Tu-Tuoan spotted the younger man, he cried out in joy. His face at least had not changed. His features were lined and weathered but still strong and his eyes flashed with delight.  Xlenca felt a lump in his throat and bowed to cover up the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

“It is most pleasing to witness your return, Master Xlenca,” Tu-Tuoan said, “The sight gives me joy. It has been reported that you have performed your duties well including dealing with the unexpected happenings with the foreign warrior-priests. Are these the men?”

“Yes, Master Tu-Tuoan, this is Padre Garcilosa and this is his apprentice, Henrico.”

Padre?”

“It means Father in my language,” the Spanish cleric said, “It is the title my people give to their priests.”

Tu-Tuoan looked up at the foreigner for a moment before asking, “Do the children of your homeland fear their fathers? No? Then why would you give this name to a priest?”

“Our priests are to love and care for his people as a father loves his children. Our God called us to come to Him with the faith of a child.”

“This is a strange thing. I have not heard of such a god before.”

“There is much more you should hear, Wise One,” Lotec said as he entered the council chamber, “These men’s God is different. He controls the sun, the wind and the rain.”

“So does the Sun God,” Hai-Tumma said with a grunt of distain.

“But He also walked among them in the form of a man,” Lotec said, pointing at Henrico, “This one told me. He healed the sick. He made the blind to see.”

“I have not heard of the Sun God do such things,” Tu-Tuoan admitted.

“This man’s God protected him from the bite of the Silent Death,” Lotec said, “Ask Master Xlenca. He saw it happen.”

“This is so,” Xlenca said.

“There is more Master,” Lotec said, “Their God raised men from the dead. He healed those who could not walk.”  Lotec fell to his knees beside the injured Beast Master and grasped the old man’s hand. “If you ask Him, He may heal you as well.” Xlenca watched as Tu-Tuoan stared in amazement at the young Rider. Lotec’s eyes were bright with excitement and anticipation. 

“Why?” Tu-Tuoan said, “Why would these men’s God do such a thing? Why would he care about me? I am not of their tribe or their nation. Our gods care only for their own and then only when they see fit to do so. Why should their God be different?”

“He is different,” Lotec said, “He loves all people. Isn’t that so, Priest? Tell him.”

“Yes,” Father Garcilosa said with a gentle smile, “Our Lord Jesus said that He came so that no man should perish but that all could have the gift of life. It is a gift freely given without cost for He desires no sacrifice, no shedding of blood. All He asks is that you believe and accept.”

“Can that be?” Tu-Tuoan struggled to straighten himself on his pallet. “A God who does not demand death and blood to pay for His favor? Can such a thing be so?” He turned and looked up at Xlenca, his eyes seeking assurance from his former Rider. Was their small faith enough?  The younger man’s face was awash with confusion blended with a desperate unexpected hope. He turned to Father Garcilosa and raised his hands in a silent petition.

The Spanish priest stepped forward. A gentle smile appeared on his face as a quiet aura of peacefulness descended upon the scene. He took the crippled Beast Masters hands in his own and whispered, “I do not have wealth but what I do have I give you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk.” For a moment no one spoke and no one moved. Tu-Tuoan gazed deeply into Father Garcilosa’s eyes. The priest whispered to him. “Only believe.” Tu-Tuoan gritted his teeth and started to pull himself up against the priest’s hands. He gasped as if in pain and was suddenly propelled upward. The others cried out in surprise. Master Tu-Tuoan was standing.

The broad swatch of stars that was the night sky fled before the expanding hues of the approaching dawn. The air was clear and fresh but the scarlet clouds overhanging the eastern horizon warned of upheaval in the heavenlies. The foreboding of the crimson tinted sunrise was matched by the Beast Master’s dark mood as Xlenca stared silently into the chilled remnants of his fire. He had not slept that night but had sat wrestling with the things he had seen and learned. He had rejected the Sun God of his people as cruel and capricious but could he accept this new god? The foreign priest spoke of a God who loved His people and demonstrated it with a power that he had never imagined.

But, Xlenca wondered, could this foreign god truly accept the Ixtec people? The Sun God accepted subjugated peoples only as slaves and human sacrifices. He did not hear their prayers or pleas. They fed his insatiable appetite for blood but would never receive his blessing. Xlenca knew that even the Ixtec people did not love and were not loved by their god. They feared him and met his demands for blood lest he withhold the sun and rain they needed and destroy them. How would the Sun God respond to the intrusion of a foreign god into his realm? The reactions of the Ixtec who had witnessed the miracle had varied in the extreme. How could any predict what their old god would do?

Lotec had been overjoyed and leapt into the air with excitement. Hai-Tumma had become angry and ordered Xlenca’s Rider to be still. He further demanded that no one speak of this thing and then had stormed from the council chamber. Xlenca had been stunned into silent amazement. He was surprised when he priest’s apprentice Henrico had displayed the same reaction. Only the warrior priest Garcilosa and the old Beast Master Tu-Tuoan seemed unperturbed. The two men had stood in silence, a mantle of peacefulness settling about them. At last Tu-Tuoan had motioned toward the pallet from which he had arisen.

“Sit,” he had said, “And tell me of your God.”

Xlenca stood and stretched in the cool morning air. Soon he knew the Barracks would awaken with the buzz of activity just as on every other day. But this day was unlike any other.  The young Beast Master struggled to understand all that had happened. He had stayed nearby his old Master and had listened to the foreign cleric as he told of his God. And he had not been alone.  He was surprised when the priest from over the Great Water had asked that the guards who had witnessed the viper attack be allowed to attend. He had made a promise to one of them he explained, and had been unable to keep it. Xlenca was even more shocked when Tu-Tuoan had agreed.

The young Beast Master sighed and rubbed his eyes. Only one of the guards had responded to the invitation. The other refused and instead went to be with Master Hai-Tumma. The Ixtec warrior who came did so as shyly and hesitantly as a newborn colt approaching the herd for the first time. The stout-hearted soldier seemed overwhelmed by both the invitation and the sight of the healed Beast Master. He had listened in rapt silence as the foreign priest spoke of his great God of Love. Xlenca felt the words wash over and through him. He felt a stirring in his heart but hesitated to yield to its call, still too confused, too troubled.

Master Tu-Tuoan had displayed no such doubt. How could he? He had felt the power of this God course through his body, healing his injured back and restoring the strength and sensation to his dead and useless limbs. This God of Love was a God of Power. The old Beast Master commanded that every scribe in the Barracks attend him and put them to work recording the Word of God with the complex system of knotted and colored strands the Ixtec used to send and receive messages. The system could not capture every nuance and phrase but he hoped it would serve to clarify and sustain his memory of the warrior-priest’s words.

The pile of twisted and knotted string had grown throughout the long day. The scribes’ hands had cramped and stiffened until they begged to be released from their task and Master Tu-Tuoan had at last relented. The old man had assumed their duties, his nimble fingers flying as he recorded more and more of the words of this Jesus. Only when the Barrack’s entire supply of colored string and rope had been exhausted did he relent and allow his hands to rest. But he himself did not. The stamina of both the healed Ixtec elder and the foreign warrior priest had astounded all who witnessed it. To Xlenca it had only added to the mystery.

He strolled through the compound listening to the sounds of the morning. The smell of freshly baked flatbread came to him as he passed by the Barracks kitchen but no hunger stirred in his belly. A servant drew forth a bucket from the well and poured the cold clear liquid into a pitcher but, though the laughing sound of the flowing water tickled his ears, he felt no thirst. At last Xlenca reached the animal pens and stood in silent vigil watching the slumbering forms of the Great Beasts. As if sensing his presence Moon Dancer stirred and ponderously rose to her feet. The mastodon shook its immense head to push away the last vestiges of sleep and then turned to amble toward her Master.

“Good morning old girl, I see that you at least slept well.” The Great Beast gently reached out with her trunk to ruffle her Master’s hair and stroke his face. The young man stepped closer to lean his head against the coarse hair of her cheek and spoke into her ear. “What will today bring? Can you tell me? Does your great heart know?” Xlenca pulled away at the sound of approaching footsteps and turned to see Lotec and their Apprentice.

“Greetings Master, I thought you might be here. Come, I have brought fruit and bread for I fear you have neglected to break your fast. The lad will see to caring for Moon Dancer.”

“Very well,” Xlenca said, following his Rider to the base of a broad tree. The food Lotec had brought was plentiful and this was well as each bite seemed to enliven and enlarge his hunger. The Beast Master recalled how the foreign priest had shared that their God was sometimes called the Bread of Life. He wondered if hearing about this God would have a similar effect. Would he become hungry to hear more? What would it take to satisfy his soul and sate this hunger? A sudden outcry from the Barracks gate pulled Xlenca away from his thoughts and to his feet.

With Lotec at his heels Xlenca hurried to the Barracks’ courtyard in time to see a clutch of guards struggling to keep the front gate closed. The sound of splintering wood announced their failure and the soldiers were forced back in disarray. A second troop armed with spears raced to the entrance only to be shocked into immobility as the gates fell to the ground. The assaulting forces were revealed as a huge mastodon pushed its way into the Barracks. It was an immense bull and mounted astride its broad neck was the sun priest Lo-Huitzlapoch.

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The Golden Conquest – Part 19

.           Xlenca waited at the head of the column until Master Hai-Tumma had finished caring for his mount. When the senior Beast Master had returned Xlenca dismounted and lead Moon Dancer to the small stream that bordered the trail. The mastodon drank deeply from the cool water and turned to munch on some ferns that were growing near the water’s edge. Xlenca and Lotec carefully inspected the animal’s legs and flanks, pulling out burrs and branches that had become entangled in her hair and searching for parasites on her skin. The Great Beast enjoyed the ministrations and reached back to nuzzle her Master with her trunk. Xlenca laughed and stretched up his hand to scratch her behind her ear.

“She likes it when you do that,” a voice called, and the two men turned to see Cue-Ahmma approaching from the trail. “The Great Hill Masters changed their plans and decided to send all the female servants back to the Barracks. They have moved on to the siege and thought it would be too dangerous to have us there.”

“Too dangerous for whom I wonder,” Lotec said with a laugh.  Xlenca frowned at his Rider and the younger man returned to checking Moon Dancer’s skin. The Beast Master took Cue-Ahmma’s hand and they stepped back into the shade of the jungle.

“Master Hai-Tumma told me that you would be traveling with us. I am glad. Once we get closer to the Great Hill, he plans to send a company of soldiers to escort you the rest of the way. You’ll be safe once you’re back at your home Barracks.” The young woman stepped closer and looked into Xlenca’s eyes.

“I don’t want to go back.” Her voice was soft and husky. “I want to stay with you.” Xlenca cupped her face in his hands. Her hair smelled like wild flowers and her eyes glistened in the sunlight that filtered through the forest canopy. She leaned her face into his hand and let her lids fall shut. Xlenca slowly lowered his face to hers, and their lips touched.

The moment was shattered by the loud trumpeting of a mastodon. Xlenca jerked his head up anxiously and looked back toward the column. He recognized the sound as being the call of Master Hai-Tumma’s animal.  He hesitated; his arms still tight around Cue-Ahmma’s waist.

“Go. I know that you must.” She stepped back and watched as he turned and ran back to the stream. Lotec had already led Moon Dancer to the riverbank in response to the signal. The two men mounted the mastodon and Xlenca tapped her side to send her into a swift trot. Seconds later they burst out of the trees to see the other Beast Riders lined up before Master Hai-Tumma.  Xlenca was relieved to see that there was no sign of an attack and noted the weary messenger standing nearby. Hai-Tumma nodded to the late arrivals before speaking.

“I have received a message from the Barracks Master,” he said in his usual ponderous style, “Master Quezoema has obtained news from the capital which is most worrisome. It has been reported that the Sun Temple guards have arrested all the old Masters in the capital and charged them with heresy.” The younger men responded with shouts of dismay and Hai-Tumma was forced to raise his hands to restore silence. Only after all were quiet did he continue. “Master Quezoema has sent a messenger to me with orders that we are to turn away from the capital and proceed back to the Barracks. We will take the prisoners and a small number of infantrymen.  The remaining foot soldiers are to disperse and return to their homes. We will be leaving as soon as possible so please see to your duties.” The Beast Masters hurried away, quiet and troubled by the news.

Cuantolec was pleased at the change in orders. It had been almost two weeks since the battle and the glory of their victory was beginning to wane. Their progress had been so slow due to the injured and the captives that he had been expecting another few weeks of service before he could be discharged. Now if he hurried, he would be able to be back in his own village within a few days, once again resting with his wife and family. He would be glad to return to her care. He had developed a throbbing in his head as the day went on and nothing he did seemed to help it. Now he felt like he might have a fever. He pulled his Spanish blanket tighter about his shoulders and thought of how good it would be to finally be home.

The Spanish captives wondered if they would ever see home again. With fewer guards the prisoners had to be retied to ensure security. Their hands were bound more tightly and ropes were fastened about their waists and to each other so they had to now move in a shuffling line. Brother Sebastian complained bitterly at this treatment especially as the other clerics were not likewise fettered. There had been a brief but heated discussion when some of the Beast Masters urged that all the prisoners be bound. The issue had been decided when Xlenca intervened and simply asked Father Garcilosa and Henrico to give their word not to try to escape. When he then stated his trust in them, the matter was settled with only the Dominican remaining unsatisfied.

Master Hai-Tumma pushed the Ixtec and the Spanish hard. Xlenca watched as the fear and confusion on the captives’ faces was replaced with the dullness of exhaustion. He knew they could not understand what was happening and as they marched back the trail, he was glad that their tight bonds and the continued presence of the mastodons was sure to dispel any thought of escape. Any such risk declined further as their limbs were grew more and more fatigued and the ropes had begun to chaff and burn. Despite the increasing weariness felt by all, the troop continued to push on.

Father Garcilosa’s concern about the Spanish prisoners and especially the wounded increased as time passed. He moved down the line giving comfort where he could and encouragement to all. The priest pulled Henrico away from his language lesson with the disgruntled Dominican to position him alongside Ponce d’Amarco. The injured courtier was gamely trying to keep up but his headache had become more intense and his balance was failing. Henrico slipped an arm under d’Amarco’s shoulder and steadied him while the priest hurried forward. He would find Xlenca and urge that the Beast Master allow a rest for the captive Spaniards.

The late afternoon sun shone warmly down on the viper as it coiled its two-meter body at the base of a large tree. The snake had sensed the approaching column of men but its belly was full and its resting place far enough from the trail that it should not be disturbed. Its olive-green body was covered by reddish brown triangles edged with lighter scales. Behind its nostrils lay the two indentations on its broad flat head that identified it as a member of the pit viper family.

In later years, the Spanish would come to know the snake as the fer-de-lance. The Ixtec called it the Silent Death.

Father Garcilosa hurried down the track and spied Moon Dancer just ahead around a small curve in the road. His way blocked by a hand cart laden with supplies, he slipped off the trail and strode through the underbrush. As he neared a large tree, Father Garcilosa called out, hoping to catch the Beast Master’s attention. At that moment the startled pit viper rose up, its body arched into an “S”. Before the priest could react, the snake flashed out and sank its fangs deep into his leg.

Father Garcilosa jerked in surprise and stumbled back toward the trail. Two of the Ixtec soldiers cried out in alarm and rushed forward. One of them gripped the Spanish priest’s arms to keep him from falling and pulled him back while the second swung his war club at the underbrush. The viper slithered away allowing the warriors to retreat with the stricken priest. As the soldiers eased Father Garcilosa to the ground, he glanced up to see Xlenca approaching. The Beast Master slid down from his mount to stand beside the foreign priest and slowly shook his head.

“I am sorry, priest,” he said, his voice solemn, “I saw what happened. There is nothing we can do.”

“Do not worry, Master Xlenca,” the Spanish cleric said, straightening up, “I will be fine.”

“No, you don’t understand. I saw the snake that bit you. No one lives after such a thing.  All die.” 

The elderly priest only smiled. “I assure you Master Xlenca, I am uninjured. But please, I was coming to ask you if the wounded could be allowed to take a brief rest.”

“What? What are you saying? Are you mad?’ Xlenca lurched back in shock. “We call that snake the Silent Death. None survive its bite.”

“There is no need for concern.” The priest reached down to the hem of his robe and touched his leg. “Please. What about the prisoners?”

It seemed that even the jungle was silent for a moment before the Beast Master answered. “No—no, I am sorry, we cannot stop. I—I shall have the soldiers help the injured men. We will reach our next campsite in a few hours.”

“Very well then. I thank you.” He rose from the ground and walked back down the trail.  He was limping only a little more than usual and when he glanced over his shoulder, he saw the Ixtec standing, watching him with open mouths, waiting for him to fall, to scream in pain as the venom took hold. He continued down the trail.

Xlenca stood, his eyes narrowed and his face grim. He shook his head and waved the soldiers back in line before climbing back about Moon Dancer. The old warrior-priest was strong and courageous, but he would still be dead within the hour. There could be no other outcome. Unless, and with this thought the Beast Master paused, unless there was a power in this foreign priest that he had never witnessed before. He reached for his neck to grasp his talisman, forgetting for a moment his rejection of the Sun God and a cold shiver crept up his spine. He looked back down the trail but the priest had disappeared around the bend. Time would tell.

By the time the column had reached the campsite, the news of the snake bite had spread through the entire Ixtec force. As Father Garcilosa settled down to rest beside a fire pit, he found a steady stream of native soldiers wandering by to catch a glimpse of him. Some lingered nearby as if waiting for the death throes to begin. When the evening progressed and nothing happened the crowd of onlookers began to grow. At last, their commanders were compelled to disperse the men and order them away from the area. Henrico too had heard the story. His initial fear and apprehension were replaced by amazement as time passed. When the camp was finally quiet and the Ixtec soldiers less watchful, he moved closer to the priest.

“How is it possible, Father?” he whispered in Spanish, “How is it that you have not been harmed by the viper’s attack. Is it a miracle?”

“I have no doubt that the hand of God is in this,” the priest said, “Though perhaps not in the way you imagine. You know that I had been wounded in the past. Well, the injury was so grievous that I would have died if not for an excellent surgeon in Cordova. The doctor was a Jew and I know that he saved my life.” The older cleric paused for a moment, lost in thought and memory. Then he slowly lifted his robe and slid up the leg of his trousers. “I thought it most distressing at the time that in the process he could not also save my leg.”

Henrico gasped as the flickering firelight revealed the polished gleam of oak. He started to reach for the false leg but pulled his hand back. Father Garcilosa smiled. “He also made me this fine substitute. The man was a genius and the wooden leg which he gave me functions so well that most never notice it. After Torquemada’s Inquisition led to the Jewish doctor’s expulsion from Spain, I elected not to reveal my wound to any. I often wondered why God allowed this to happen to me. Today I learned that it could also be a blessing. Who knows what other doors may be opened as a result?”

“But the Ixtec will think that there was a miracle.”

“Wasn’t there? Our Lord promised to work all things for our good and hasn’t He done so? The viper could have bitten me on the thigh or on my other leg. But God was in control.”

“What will you tell them?”

“I will always speak the truth. Though I was attacked by a deadly snake, I am uninjured thanks to the grace of God.” Father Garcilosa reached out to place a hand on the young Benedictine’s shoulder. “Make no mistake, my son. Our God could have protected me from the viper’s venom no matter what. His power is real and He does do miracles. I have witnessed them before and I believe I will again, perhaps very soon.”

“Why didn’t He protect us then? Why did He allow Cortes to be so easily defeated and for us to be captured? Where was He then?”

“He has never left us my son, and will never forsake us. Remember, we do not fight against flesh and blood but against powers and principalities. These people are oppressed by evil. They are living in darkness. Perhaps you and I are meant to show them the light.” He kept his eyes locked on Henrico’s for a moment. There seemed to be a deep sadness within him.

Henrico dropped his head, his voice a hoarse whisper. “God would not use me. I have nothing to give.” As the young man stared into the fire, the priest laid a hand on his shoulder and began to pray.

The early morning sun filtered through the foliage to pull the two clerics from their slumber. They sat up with a start when they realized a group of Ixtec soldiers was watching them. The native warriors had spread a brightly woven blanket on the ground and covered it with a mound of flowers and fresh fruit. When the two Spaniards arose the Ixtec bowed slightly and backed away, leaving their offering where it lay. Henrico stepped forward to reach for a piece of fruit but the priest stopped him.

“Henrico,” he said in a quiet voice, “These men may think that we are gods but we must remember that we are only men. I admit it’s tempting but pride has been my downfall before. I know I must guard against it. Help me carry this fruit to the injured. They need it more than we do.”  The young Benedictine hesitated for a moment and then helped to move the blanket with its load of produce to the Spanish prisoners. There was enough for all the wounded men. The two were continuing their work when they were interrupted by the approach of an Ixtec warrior. It was one of those who had witnessed the previous day’s snake attack.

“O lord from the Great Sea,” he said, bowing his head, “Was our offering unworthy?”

“Oh no,” Father Garcilosa replied, “But you did not need to do it.”

“But you have survived the Silent Death. We know that you are one of the gods and we wish to make offering to you. We must do this.  We—we fear your anger.”

“I am no god. But I believe that I have been sent from God. Not from any of the gods you know but from the Lord God, Creator of all things. Walk by me this day and I shall share His message with you.” The Ixtec soldier’s eyes grew wide and he started to back away. He stopped and stared at the Spanish cleric before nodding his head. He would hear the word of this foreign god. 

Xlenca had slept fitfully and he yawned as he tended to Moon Dancer. He knew that Father Garcilosa had survived the night. The fact that the Spaniard had not succumbed to the venom of the pit viper troubled him. He was even more worried about the reaction that the priest’s survival had caused amongst the soldiers. The young Beast Master did not believe that the priest was a god but could see that some power had protected him. Was it the Sun God? Or some rival deity from over the Great Water? Xlenca sighed and leaned his head against the mastodon’s shoulder. Life had seemed so much easier before all these gods had begun to take notice of him. Would things ever be simple again? Moon Dancer reached back with her trunk to ruffle his hair and he found a smile returning to his face.

“I can always count on you, old girl, can’t I?”  He reached up to scratch the great beast behind her ear. “Yes, I can count on you.”

Soon the column was ready to move on. At Master Hai-Tumma’s command Xlenca headed his mount to the head of the line and fell in beside the older Beast Master. Hai-Tumma waved the other mastodons away and ordered the Masters and Riders to fall back with the infantry. The gentle sway of his mastodon could not mask the obvious tension in the older man. At last, when all others were out of earshot he turned and stared at Xlenca.

“This incident with the foreign warrior priest troubles me,” he said, “First, he displays courage in combat. Then he demonstrates priestly ability in caring for the injured. Third, he is granted extra privileges. No, do not protest. I do not begrudge him the freedom he has been given. He has made no attempt to escape and has greatly assisted the wounded. I have no doubt he has saved lives amongst both forces.”  Hai-Tumma rubbed his eyes slowly. “Now he has supposedly survived the attack of a deadly snake.”

“I saw it myself, Master. The Silent Death struck him and yet he lives.”  

“It doesn’t matter.” The old man said through gritted teeth, “Whether he is the Sun God incarnate or just a trickster, he has dazzled the men. They even took him tribute this morning. If word should reach the ears of the priests at the Great Temple, we will all suffer. He must be isolated from the soldiers and this story quashed. I have ordered the two warriors who witnessed the incident forward as an advance guard so they will have no further contact with the foreigner or with the other men. I want you to keep this pale skinned priest and his apprentice away from the column and away from me. There must not be any further incidents.”

“I understand, Master Hai-Tumma. I will see to it.”

“Make sure that you do.”  

The older Beast Master moved forward while Xlenca waited for Lotec to scramble back atop the mastodon’s back. The Rider started to speak but Xlenca shook his head. They both were quiet as Moon Dancer turned and moved down the trail past the column of marching men. Only when they had reached the captive Spaniards, did Xlenca break his silence.

“Lotec, find the warrior priest and his apprentice and bring them here.”

Henrico and Father Garcilosa followed the young Beast Master as he had led them to the end of the column, past even the rear guard of infantry. They remained on the trail but were soon out of sight of the rest of the troops. Through the whole morning none spoke and the tension grew. The two native warriors remained taciturn even when they stopped to rest the mastodon at mid-day. They exchanged glances until at last Xlenca nodded sharply. The column was resuming its march when the Beast Master climbed aboard Moon Dancer and prodded her into motion. As she began to shamble forward, Lotec fell in beside Henrico, and Xlenca heard him speak. 

“Tell me about your God.”

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The Golden Conquest – Part 18

.           Why was the ship so dark? Henrico struggled to orientate himself, his eyes feeling as if lead weights were tied to them. Something is wrong. The ship seemed to be swaying not rolling on the waves as it should be. And why was he onboard anyway? Hadn’t Captain Quintero returned to Cuba? The young Benedictine tried once more to open his eyes and a low groan escaped from his lips. He attempted to lift himself up onto his elbows but was driven back down by a wave of nausea.

“Easy my son,” Father Garcilosa said softly as he leaned over the injured novice, “You received a bad blow to the head. You’ve been unconscious for most of the day.”

“W-where are we?” Henrico’s voice was a dry croaked.

“I’m not sure. We’ve been headed west since the battle. Our captors . . .”

“Captors? What?” The young Spaniard attempted to rise once again but fell back clutching his head. His vision began to clear and he saw that he lay upon a litter being carried by two solemn warriors. Both were sturdy bronzed men with long straight black hair and piercing dark eyes. They were naked from the waist up with animal pelts draped over their shoulders.  Henrico stared at them in wonderment, struggling to recall what had happened. Memories gradually seeped back into his consciousness and with an increasing despair he realized that these simple native soldiers had somehow defeated Cortes and his army.

“How?” he said looking back at Father Garcilosa, “How did it happen?” At that moment a shadow passed over him and he looked up as an immense dark shape towered over him. A great brownish grey creature lumbered along beside his litter, its tree trunk limbs moving easily in time with the men. Its great domed head was draped with a coarse covering of hair and framed by a pair of flap-like ears. Hanging from the beast’s face was a long snaking trunk that swayed back and forth between two wickedly spiraled tusks. The animal looked down at the young man with an eye that was surprisingly soft and gentle. Henrico moved his gaze to take in the tall straight native seated on the creature’s broad neck. The man returned his stare with quiet dignity.

Xlenca was satisfied with his new duties. In the aftermath of the battle, a large force of infantry had been sent on to harry the retreating enemy and drive them back into their walled camp. The Ixtec scouts had warned that the invader’s city was strongly fortified and could not easily be captured. Quezoema and the other commanders had decided the site would need to be encircled and besieged. To meet this end, their forces would have to be divided. The first priority had been to see to the dead and wounded. The Ixtec casualties had been low and mainly amongst the Sun Warriors.  For them death in battle was the ultimate honor. The corpses were carefully wrapped in woven shrouds to be carried back to their home villages.

The Beast Riders had not emerged unscathed from the hostilities. Two Riders had been killed by the weapons of noise and fire and one Master badly wounded. Two of the mastodons had also been injured but not seriously. Master Quezoema took half of the Red Sun squadron along with the beasts from the Great Hill to join the infantry laying siege to the enemy. The Southern Reaches force he ordered back to their Barracks to guard against any intrusion from that direction. The wounded Beasts and men were sent back to the Red Sun to recuperate.  Xlenca was ordered to accompany two other Beasts under the command of Master Hai-Tumma and escort the captured enemy troops back to the capital.

In total there were just over two score of prisoners. Many were wounded and a few would have to be carried but none were left behind. Their arms were bound behind them and their legs tethered together with short pieces of leather cord. This allowed them to walk but made running and thus escape impossible. The Ixtec placed a high value on their prisoners. However, the care with which they tended their injuries and transported them was not motivated by kindness or compassion. The captives would be questioned and interrogated but the ultimately most of them would be sent to the great Sun Temple and a death under the High Priest’s blade.

Xlenca had suggested and been granted one exception to this rule. The grey haired elder who had so bravely defended his fallen comrade had piqued the young Beast Master’s interest. He was the only one of the captives who could speak at all in the Ixtec language.  His accent was poor and he often mixed in Mayan terms but they had been able to communicate. Xlenca recognized the value this man would have to the leaders of the Empire and had been impressed with the humble dignity that the man had displayed. He had spoken with the man for only a short time when he recognized that he was not only a cleric of the alien army’s god.  He was also something more. This pale skinned invader was a warrior priest.

The Ixtec clerics always accompanied the army whenever it marched but they did not fight. Their role was to strengthen the troop’s resolve and inspire them to willingly risk injury and death. They did this through public rituals, sacrifices and private exhortation. They were quite adept at all these tasks. They were however unskilled in the martial arts. This priest from over the Great Water was different. He was more like the ecclesiastics of Ixtec legend, equally skilled in prayer and combat. When he asked permission to tend to the wounded and pledged not to escape, Xlenca believed him. He was able to convince the others and the man was left unbound.

Xlenca had noted from his flanking position that the priest’s young companion had regained consciousness. He had accepted the man’s claim that the lad was his apprentice and was curious to learn more about him now that he had awakened. The Beast Master tapped Moon Dancer’s side and the mastodon edged closer to the prisoners. Xlenca had to suppress a smile at the young man’s startled look as the immense creature moved to cover him with her shadow. He silently stared down at the man and studied his visage.  Xlenca kept his face impassive, displaying neither hostility nor compassion. He was unable however not to be shocked with what happened next.

Moon Dancer gently reached out with her trunk to touch the captive man’s face. She sniffed his neck and ruffled his hair. The young man’s mouth dropped open and his eyes grew wider but he did not flinch or try to ward off the mastodon’s exploration. Moon Dancer lowered her trunk momentarily and then raised it again to wrap it around the prisoner’s shoulders. Xlenca was amazed. The Great Beast had just shown acceptance to this enemy soldier, just as she might have to a new Initiate or Apprentice. The young Master could not understand why she had done this thing or what it meant, but he would find out. He quickly tapped Moon Dancer’s flank and she moved away.

Henrico continued to stare at the huge animal as it hurried toward the front of the column until his head began to swim once again. Lowering himself down, he glanced at Father Garcilosa walking beside the litter. 

“What was that?”

“That my son, was the Great Beast that Txella had warned us about. I believe it may be related to the elephants of Africa and Asia but it is unlike any I have ever seen. Our captors are the Ixtec and they have somehow tamed this magnificent creature. It is the strength of their army and with it they have cast Cortes away like so much chaff.”

“What is it called?”

“The Ixtec call it the Great Beast but its common name is mastodon. The one that approached you is named Moon Dancer and it is her master who captured us. He is called Xlenca in the Ixtec tongue.”

“What are they going to do with us?”

“Thus far they have treated us kindly. They have shown more care for the wounded and injured than most European armies would have. I am unsure what they will do once we reach our destination but this mastodon rider seems like an honorable man. We will have to trust him.”  The two Spaniards fell silent as the line of prisoners marched onward down the trail.

.                                           *                                    *                                 *

Cuantolec was a poor man. He was not a warrior. He had been selected by his village to fulfill its requirement for the army. In return the village had provided him with a flint tipped spear, a wooden war club and a bag of dried maize. They had also promised to care for his wife and children for a full year if he should happen to be killed or maimed. He did not desire to risk either possibility and so had managed to lag behind when his group had been sent into combat.  When the battle became a rout, he had rushed forward in the hope of gathering some plunder from the enemy soldiers. The best booty had already been seized by those braver and more fleet of foot, but he had managed to grab a large piece of cloth dropped by a fleeing invader.

The blanket was dirty and had a number of spots of mingled blood and pus. Other Ixtec infantry might have bypassed the object but to Cuantolec it was a prize. The cloth was softer and of a better weave than anything he had ever owned. He would wash it when he had the chance and he was sure his wife could make one or two fine tunics out of it. He was pleased that he would not return to his village empty handed and knew that the stolen blanket would allow him to exaggerate his own role in the battle. He had been with the Ixtec army when they had crushed the invaders from over the Great Water. He smiled and pulled the blanket closer about his neck. 

.                                         *                                 *                              *

It was dark when the column reached the Ixtec’s fortified camp. Runners had raced ahead and the compound had been prepared with long rows of torches brightening the clearing. Those prisoners who were uninjured had their feet bound more tightly and tied to a stake driven deep into the ground. Their hands were left free while they were given food and water but were then retied behind their backs. Once again, the wounded men were bound less securely and Father Garcilosa was left unfettered to minister to them. Working by torchlight he moved from man to man until he at last came to where Henrico lay. Settling on the grass beside the Benedictine he moaned slightly as he eased himself down.

“Are you all right, Father?” the young man said, “Is it your leg?”

“It is only a trifling, my son. There are so many others suffering much more.” The priest lowered his head briefly and rubbed his eyes. “I’m afraid that more have also died.”

“Are there many prisoners?”

“Yes, including some that we know. Your friend d’Amarco lies near that tree over there.  He has a nasty gash on his forehead but he will be fine.” Garcilosa gave a wry smile as he looked to where the other captives sat under guard. “Brother Sebastian is here also. He is not enjoying the accommodations at all, I’m afraid.”

“What about his lackey, Montoya?” Henrico scowled, the hatred in his voice surprising both of them. “Is he here too?”

“No,” the priest said in a solemn voice, “He is not. Seaman Montoya was killed in the battle. He is now answering to God for his sins, just as we all will someday. I am afraid that his soul was not ready to face Judgment. We should both pray that when our day comes, we will be better prepared.” The two men looked at each other in silence for a moment. A red flush of shame rose onto Henrico’s cheeks and he lowered his head. Father Garcilosa reached out to lay his hand on the young man’s tonsure in a silent benediction. The Benedictine stiffened at first but then yielded to the touch. The priest stood quietly and turned back to his other duties.

The Beast Master Xlenca had been watching the exchange and now stepped forward.  Motioning at the injured novice he spoke slowly, careful to make sure his words were understood, “Who is he? Is he your student?”

“Yes, his name is Henrico and he is—what is word? —my learner.”

“Apprentice?”

“Yes, that is it. He also speaks the words of the People.”

Xlenca studied the young man for a moment and then looked back at the older Spaniard. “Is Ha-Nee-Ko a priest too? Is that why his head is shaven in this manner?” 

“Ah, yes,” the priest said with a nod, “Henrico is learning at one of our—our temples”

“So, do all priests from over the Great Water shave the top of their heads. What about the one over there? The Black Robe?” He pointed with his rod at the other captives and the two Spaniards followed his gaze to see Brother Sebastian sitting bound to a stake.

“Yes, he is like a priest.”

“Good. We will have questions for you all. You Han-Ree-Ko, will teach him our language.”

“Me?” the young Benedictine said, “I can’t . . ..”

Father Garcilosa lifted a hand to silence his apprentice. “We will do what we can. Thank you for your kindness, Master Xlenca.”  

The Beast Master snorted and strode away. These two bothered him. The older man had a quality about him that Xlenca could not help but admire. He was strong and determined yet gentle, serene even. The essence of wisdom and peace that seemed to abide within him reminded Xlenca of his old Master, Tu-Tuoan. The younger man was stubborn with a rebellious streak and seemed to be hiding something. The Beast Master knew intuitively that the foreign priest could be trusted but was less sure of his younger companion. Yet it was the young man that Moon Dancer had reached out to and accepted. Xlenca did not like feeling confused and these two confused him.   

He moved through the camp as the army settled itself for the night.  The prisoners were well guarded and had received food, water and care. The wounded mastodons and Ixtec soldiers had been seen to. Most of these would wait and rest in the fortified camp along with the servants and camp followers until able to return to their homes and Barracks. Xlenca and the others would rest for a few days before beginning the journey to the capital. He hoped the passage would be quick and uneventful. Even now, he wished he could be back at the Red Sun Barracks, and that things were as they were just a year ago. Everything then had seemed so clear and easy.

A loud moan captured his attention and he stopped beside a group of infantrymen. They were clustered around a Sun Warrior who had been wounded in the battle. He had been washed of his red and black body paint and lay on a straw pallet. Xlenca was surprised at how young the man looked, his face pale and tight with pain. A blanket lay over the man’s body and a crimson stain could be seen blossoming in the middle of it. A soldier kneeling beside the wounded man lifted the covering and glanced under it. Looking up he caught Xlenca’s eye and slowly shook his head. The injured man cried out and lifted himself up suddenly. He gasped and then fell back to lay silent and still on the pallet. Another warrior reached out to close the man’s lifeless eyes.

Xlenca felt a shudder go through him and stepped away with his head down. A hand was touched his shoulder and he turned to find Cue-Ahmma looking up at him. She kept her hand on his arm as she looked over at the fallen soldier. His comrades had gathered around the body and knelt in silent vigil. She watched for a moment before speaking.

“It is not like I had expected,” she said in a whisper.

“I feel the same. The tales I have heard of war and battle have always seemed glorious, exciting. The enemy made out to be less than human. The truth is there is death and suffering on both sides, courage and cowardice as well.”

“I saw you speaking to the prisoners earlier. What are they like?”

“They are men just like I am. Indeed, the two I spoke to have goodness in them, though I’m sure not all are like that. I expect most are seeking only wealth and power. That is why they invaded our homeland and why we must drive them out.”

“Will there be more fighting?”

“It is likely. Their fort will be under siege by now but I do not think the pale skinned army will give up easily.”

“I—I was worried about you.” 

Xlenca smiled at her softly and stepped closer. He touched a hand to her cheek. “I will be alright, Cue-Ahmma. I have Lotec and Moon Dancer to look after me.”

“Promise me. Promise me that you will be careful.” She moved into his arms and laid her head on his chest. Xlenca wrapped his arm around her slender form and stroked her hair.

“I promise.”

Henrico’s head still throbbed but he had recovered enough to walk. His gait was slow as he followed the young Ixtec warrior through the compound glancing from side to side as he did. Most of the victorious army ignored him. Those who did not, observed his movement with more curiosity than anger. The young warrior looked back sternly and waved for him to walk faster. Henrico had learned that his name was Lotec and that he was one of the soldiers who rode on the backs of the mastodons. His Beast Master Xlenca had ordered him to be taken to Brother Sebastian to begin teaching the Dominican the Ixtec language.

The black robed cleric frowned at the approach of the Ixtec soldier and then distorted his face into a sneer when he saw Henrico behind the native. The arrogance quickly faded when Lotec stooped over the Dominican and pulled out his knife. Henrico suppressed a smile at the fear that appeared in Brother Sebastian’s eyes as the Ixtec warrior grabbed his hands. The knife flashed quickly and the prisoner’s bonds fell away. The Dominican stared at his hands for a moment and then looked up at Lotec. The warrior stepped back and gestured for Henrico to move forward.

“They want me to teach you their language.”

“What? You think I would submit to being a student to a heretic and a Jew lover? Never.”  He spat on the ground and deliberately turned away. Henrico looked over at Lotec and shrugged his shoulders. The Beast Rider grunted and pointed at Brother Sebastian.

“He says that if you do not learn their language and quickly, they will beat you,” Henrico said, “He says that if I do not teach you then you will have to learn on your own and they will beat you more each day until you do.” The black robed Inquisitor stared at the young man and then at the stone faced Ixtec. At last, he jerked his head in a sharp nod and looked down in defeat. Lotec grunted in satisfaction and stepped back.

The Dominican brother had a sharp mind and with the proper motivation proved to be an excellent student. He was quick to grasp the rudiments of the Ixtec language and was beginning to understand its grammar by the time the army broke camp. The native troops were ready to resume the trek to the Ixtec capital and the prisoners were assembled for the journey. Henrico would walk with the others but was allowed to do so without being bound. Father Garcilosa continued to receive the same privilege but Brother Sebastian had not been deemed trustworthy and still had his hands and feet tied. The Inquisitor glared with hatred at the native soldiers but kept quiet.

Henrico continued his tutelage of Brother Sebastian as they traveled. The pace remained slow as some of the wounded prisoners still needed to be carried. The Ixtec leaders wanted to ensure that they all survived the journey. The day was hot and dry and as the two ecclesiastics plodded along it soon became too difficult to continue the lesson. Henrico left the Dominican with his guards and moved closer to the head of the column to reach Father Garcilosa.

“Have you abandoned your student, my son?” the priest said with a smiled.

“He’s was finding it too difficult to walk and talk at the same time. I don’t think the Brother is used to walking.”

“Yes, I suspect the Inquisition usually provides mounts for its officers. A journey on foot can be more difficult.”

“What of you, Father? Is your wound troubling you?”

“Not presently Henrico, the rest has helped considerably.” The two men walked in silence for a time, the heat and humidity draining away any excess energy they had. They found themselves having to concentrate just to continue to move one foot in front of the other, and Henrico noted that Father Garcilosa had once again began to limp. The sun was nearing its zenith and the heat becoming more oppressive when a halt was finally called. The prisoners crumpled to the side of the trail in exhaustion and were allowed to stay where they fell. Their captors seemed amused by the Spaniards fatigue but did not berate or chide them. Instead, the soldiers began to move amongst them distributing water and flat bread.

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