Revolutions

109 - Inuxeq

I struggle to understand how anyone could live out here in these lands. The Tapeu plains north of Qapauma are sparse, with little-to-no means for establishing a sustainable settlement. There have been no trees, hardly any game to hunt, and the soil is dry and rocky, completely incapable of being farmed. The closest source of water of which I'm aware is the salty sea of the distant Haqu Suquinoq.

I've grown more and more to dislike these lands.

My first trek through these lands were fairly uneventful, save for the warped and scorched lands just south of Taqeipacha. After crossing the Maiu Antumalal, the landscape left much to be desired. The gnarled trees, the barren and lifeless soil, the dying, cloudless sky. I worried we were entering into someplace truly cursed by the Timuaq before they departed our world. Yet Sianchu was over the moon with arriving to this land. And after Taqeipacha, I could understand why, with the life gradually returning to this place.

It all made me miss Tuatiu, however. His palpable joy in returning home only made me miss my own. Now, seeing the displaced Atima establish their settlement far from their lands, I feel a pang of empathy and longing.

I remember the morning mists that blanket Iantana, the smell of wet soil and the calls of the birds greeting the dawn. My home is a place of endless green, where the towering and ancient trees create a canopy above that shields us from the harsh sun, and the jungle floor is filled with vibrant life.

Yet, somehow, there is a sprawling campsite at the base of the barren mountains, stretching as far as the eye can see. Approaching the collection of blue and beige tents among a small patch of trees is surreal. Even though Haesan spoke of such a place existing, I still had trouble believing it.

But now, seeing that it is, in fact, possible, I pause as I take in the unbelievable perseverance of the Atima and the people of Pachil. The camp is a symbol of endurance, but it also stands as a reminder of what has been lost and what must be regained. It is a place of temporary refuge, but it is not home. Home is where the heart finds its true belonging, where the spirit feels at peace. Yet even in these relatively harsh lands, and all that they have gone through, it gives me hope that the Atima will continue to thrive, no matter how the gods challenge them.

The villagers are tense and on high alert as we arrive. They halt all activity as they watch us draw closer to their home. A gathering of men in mismatched, worn leather armor eye us suspiciously, their hands gripping a jumble of poorly maintained weapons, though they're ready for anything. I can't blame them for their unease at our presence—these are displaced people making do with what they have. So to have an army marching toward them would be unsettling, to say the least.

Haesan hurriedly steps in front of the group of warriors, making sure her appearance is foremost. She raises both hands as she walks up to them, hoping to ease their fears. The men cast wary glances at the figure in a neutral-colored robe as she approaches them, drawing their weapons and crouching into a stance as if readying themselves to strike.

It's only when one of the men guarding the entrance to this camp points out who she is that the rest begin to relax slightly. Noticing some of the Qantua have drawn their swords in response to the raised weapons of the Qelantu Loh guards, I quickly order our warriors to stand down. Tensions gradually ease, and I begin to hope this is a rare good sign.

I watch attentively as the man steps a few paces forward, grinning welcomingly. "You're the companion of Chalqo!" he remarks. I find the name peculiar and amusing, but Haesan appears to recognize it, returning the warm smile.

"Indeed, through Lady Nuqasiq," she says with a bow of her head. "Has he returned from Qapauma?"

The man frowns and shakes his head. "The musicians traveled there for Chasqa Quimi, but they have not yet returned. We're concerned as to what this may mean. Do you bring news of their status? Based on your... entourage..." the man reluctantly waves his hand to point to the vast army behind me, "something terrible must have taken place there."