Revolutions

31 - Paxilche

The muscles in my legs burn with each step, but I mustn't stop moving. My feet pound on the rugged, unforgiving terrain, heavily breathing as I race north of Pichaqta. How do the messengers do this on a regular basis?

After Saxina demanded my removal from the palace grounds, it was clear to me that the investigation into Limaqumtlia's death was nonexistent. Like a flawed blade, Saxina's tongue is twisted and doesn't strike true. Without him being able to give me a straight answer, I know of only one person whom I can trust with seeking true justice for my brother's murder.

As much as I yearned for a quiet existence, Aqxilapu seems to have a different path for me, if one believed in such things. I once believed Saxina and the authorities were delving into Limaqumtlia's demise, but with no substantial progress, the responsibility appears to fall squarely on my shoulders to unearth the truth behind that pivotal day. I also can't complain about escaping the unbearable Taqaiu, who has become even more insufferable with the lack of jubilant patrons—understandably so when one considers the ordinance put in place by Saxina and its severe demands of the Qiapu citizens.

Without hesitation, I returned to my home and grabbed my belongings, enough for the trek to chase down Qumuna and his band of men as he travels north to Qapauma to fulfill his duty of becoming the Arbiter's aid and honorable representative of Qiapu. Along with a few days' worth of clothing, I brought along provisions like dried fruits, nuts, and seeds, a cloth bedroll, a flint and stone knife, a couple pouches for water, and some hemp rope.

As I was gathering these items, resting on the wall at the back of the room, I spotted my war club, long unused. I walked over to it and felt its lightweight yet durable build, arguably one of the finest-crafted weapons I've ever seen made by my people. It's a combination of copper and bronze, a resilient hardness as a result of the copper, but the ornate engravings in the bronze, geometric patterns shaped like a condor inscribed into the handle, make it truly unique. When I held it in my hands, it brought back the memory of how I came to possess such an impressive weapon.

It was during the time of the War of Liberation, as many such tales involving a weapon would imaginably occur. In the beginning, before Limaqumtlia would be placed in charge of a band of warriors who would go on to claim much glory in the duration of the war, he and I were warriors in different squads that fought throughout the Qiapu countryside. Though he wasn't the most capable fighter in his group, I was significantly worse in mine; Limaqumtlia knew enough to effectively combat at least half of the foes on the battlefield, while I spent most of my time hoping to never have to wield my sword.

Most of my squad's missions, thankfully, involved protecting the delivery of supplies to the villages and towns in our faction's land, as militants of the Timuaq and their allies would regularly attempt to cut off supply lines. This was the kind of act of service I could support with my skillset: Following the men carrying the heavy load of supplies on pallets, we'd march alongside to make sure there weren't any enemy forces or opportunistic thieves that would ambush them.

During one mission, our travels brought us to Qespina, a tiny village tucked away in the mountains to the southwest of Pichaqta, close to the source of the mighty Maiu Atiniuq—"Mighty River", as it's cleverly named. The village didn't contain many people who lived there, but much like its similarly creative name, which means "Safe Haven", it provided respite for the bands of warriors traveling through the region.

As we approached, I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. Although this was a small, unassuming town, the road leading up to it was eerily and suspiciously quiet. The terraced farms around the perimeter of the village were lacking the usual activity, with no one present to work the fields. The group of men were about to march on, but I managed to convince them to halt until I could forge ahead and scout the location, placing a bet with the impatient warriors to let me go through with my plan, which involved consuming something foul that I don't care to repeat.