Revolutions

112 - Teqosa

Síqalat and I throw our hands up as the Auilqa warriors close in, their weapons leveled at our chests. Their shouts blend into a discordant swirl of unintelligible commands. We're met with countless snarling faces and burning eyes. The skies begin to darken, as black, ominous clouds slowly creep above us. The warriors jab their spears through the air dangerously close to our faces.

"Okay, okay," Síqalat says, sounding annoyed. Two of the warriors apprehend her, grabbing her arms and flinging her inland. She puts up minimal resistance, shrugging off their efforts to contain her, and walks toward the warrior with the largest headdress.

I follow close behind, watching the glowering figure before us. His square jaw is lined with the bones of his headdress, covered at the crown in a colorful plumage of red, turquoise, and yellow feathers. His green eyes are shrouded by the elaborate embellishments, but his unwelcome demeanor is unmistakable.

After a series of grunts and vitriolic-sounding sneers, Síqalat translates the man's words for me. "The leader accuses us of desecrating their sacred place. He says that no outsider is permitted to enter the Tomb of Inqil, and that we are to face a punishment of death for trespassing."

"That's preposterous!" I exclaim. This action angers the warriors, who brandish their spears closer to my face. Then, through gnashed teeth, I ask her, "Could you tell them to stand down, before I escalate matters? Please?"

With her hands still raised, she shouts something to the leader, who doesn't take kindly to her words. Her stance remains defiant, chest puffed out and chin held high while never breaking eye contact with him. After a brief exchange, the man grumbles and ultimately waves away the warriors, allowing me to finally breathe a little easier.

"Tell him," I say to Síqalat, "that we respect the sacred tomb and only entered to seek answers to allow us to protect all factions of Pachil, the Auilqa included." I expect he won't initially appreciate this response, and I will have to continue pleading our case.

She relays this message, which is met with much fury and disgust—as I anticipated. I don't need to know what he said to understand he still finds our actions abhorrent. Thus, before Síqalat can translate, I continue with my explanation.

"I have been guided by members of the Eleven to discover how we can unite our people against a common enemy. This journey is not one we undertook lightly. We sought the wisdom and strength that only the ancient spirits can provide, to safeguard Pachil from the threats that seek to destroy us all." Síqalat looks at me skeptically, but with a nod, I encourage her to speak to him.

This elicits a hearty laugh from the man after she repeats my words. When the leader responds, she winces as though his remarks wound her. She turns around to inform me of what he says, but once again, I don't need to know that he still speaks to us derisively.

"I understand your skepticism," I say, taking a step forward despite the hostile stares of his warriors. "We understand the sanctity of your traditions and the reverence you hold for this place. Our intent was never to desecrate, but to honor and seek guidance."

I pause, watching his expression for any sign of softening. There is none. "Please, allow us to explain further," I urge. "Take us to your elders, to those who can understand the significance of our mission. Let us prove our sincerity and our respect for your ways."

The leader's eyes narrow, and his grip on his weapon tightens. It's clear he remains unconvinced. I can see it in his eyes, the distrust. I know this is not enough, but I hope it's enough to prevent immediate violence.

Síqalat conveys my words with urgency, and I hold my breath, waiting for the leader's response. He snaps a command to his warriors, who swiftly move to apprehend us. I comply, unwilling to provoke any further conflict. As the warriors attempt to confiscate the gifts bestowed upon us by Inqil—my glaive and Síqalat's compass—I hear yelps in anguish. Turning to look at the disruption, the warriors wince and hold their hands as though they were severely burned by touching the items. Could there be a blessing cast upon them? The leader angrily yells a command at us, demanding we retrieve our items. Síqalat chuckles, and when I ask what is amusing about this situation, she states that the leader believes our items are cursed by some evil sorcery.