JJ Conde

First two scenes of the story: PROLOGUE Zunia hoped she would be allowed outside today. It would be nice to see the sun. Most days she did not mind being in the cave. She was safe there, which was good; the outside world was dangerous. Full of robbers and jaguars, her Protectors warned her. Also, it was always cool and shady in the cave. It was much hotter outside and the light, though pretty, was almost too bright for her eyes. She also had plenty to eat, many brushes and dyes to draw with, and someone to come read to her whenever she wished. It was a good life, and Zunia had no real complaints. But today was different. Or, better said, she was different. She was feeling bold, adventurous, even reckless. She thought today she might go outside and if there were no robbers or jaguars, and if it was not too hot, she might even climb a tree! She laughed at the thought of her Protectors’ faces if they could see her up a tree. She knew which one she would climb too, the wide ahuehuete tree down near the bottom of the ravine. Yes, as far as that! So long as it was safe. Above her she heard the dull tap as the bats beat their wings against the air. They were her friends in their way. Her Protectors found it amusing that she had named so many of them; they could not tell one from another. But Zunia could. When they came near enough, at least. Although she could see well in the dark, even better than her Protectors, she could not see the bats when they slept high above her. But if she left out some of her fruit for them and held very still, sooner or later the bolder ones would venture into the firelight in her sanctum. Tuna, the sweet fruit of the cactus, worked the best. One time Paxcal actually landed on her hand long enough to enjoy a morsel of it with her. Paxcal was the boldest and one of her favorites. Zunia looked at the torches now and saw they had once again burned low. They needed to be replenished soon. Her Protectors would come, and maybe she could go outside then. She shifted around on the hard stone bench. She would like to have lain down but she was supposed to be meditating. The scribes seemed to think it could not be properly done lying down. Right now, she did not think her meditations would come to much. She was almost certain she would meditate better if she were outside by the ahuehuete tree. Perhaps she should tell that to her Protectors? “What do you think, Paxcal?” she asked the ceiling above her. More taps as wings beat the air. She decided that meant yes. Zunia stood up. She walked toward the doorway of her sanctum but before she could call for her Protectors she heard the screams. Another volunteer was coming. Two of them, in fact: a man and a woman. Zunia hung her head, disappointed. She probably would not get to go outside today after all. Sighing, she walked over to the large stone altar in the middle of the sanctum. It was carved with many figures: men, animals, and other creatures all bowing before a large door. She picked up a curved obsidian dagger and checked the edge with her thumb. A small trickle of blood erupted as it cut into the skin. She nodded and wiped the blade clean. It was so much harder to do with a notched blade. Not that she did the hardest parts, of course. Her Protectors were the ones who held on to the volunteers, steadying them as they prepared for the journey into the next life. Zunia just had to cut the throat and hold the basin to catch the blood before it polluted the sanctum. A child could do it, and she would know. She had been doing it as long as she could remember. The screams were loud. That was good. It was best to let out all the animal, earthly passions so they would not have to carry them in the next life. It would make their journey much easier. When they finally reached the sanctum, she saw her Protectors had brought her not two but three volunteers: a man, a woman, and their small child. The woman was crying, the man talking in a language she did not understand, the child silent. With them came several of her Protectors as well two scribes to make a writing. The man looked at her, actually meeting her eyes. Inappropriate, but she could make allowances in the present circumstances. He said something. “What does he say?” she asked. The one to speak to her was Kakob. He did not meet her eyes, of course, but he bowed and gestured to the man. “Divine One, this one is fearful. He asks thee that he be the first, before his courage fails him entirely.” Zunia looked at the man with pity. “Say unto him in this moment it is understandable to have fear,” she said. “Tell him there is no shame to feel fear. Tell him it will be painless; he shall fall asleep and wake up in the next world. And tell him his loved ones will meet him there.” That would reassure the man. It could be hard to be alone; Zunia often was. Sometimes she wished she were not Divine. “Yes, Divine One.” He spoke words to the man, pointing to his wife and child. The man slumped and nodded. Zunia could not help admiring them. She only had to do her small part and even she, after all these years, could not help feeling a little apprehensive. For them, this would of course be the first time. And the last. She was amazed that so many volunteered. The boy looked at her with his big round eyes. She smiled at him. Zunia loved children; they had a way about them that made Zunia feel good all over. She would like to have kept a few with her but that was for purely selfish reasons. This couple would certainly want the child with them so they could journey together in the next life. She would make sure to do the child last. It would be much less frightening for him to make the journey if he knew his parents were already there waiting for him. Of course, three meant there was no possibility of her going outside and climbing the tree today. She felt a little sad about that. Still, there is always tomorrow. She picked up the basin and dagger, then waited at the altar. CHAPTER 1 Becoming a man is hardly worth the effort! That was Ahuatzi’s thought as the sun beat down and his feet and toes squelched in the fresh mud of the chinampa. Built by his village just last year, it was essentially a large island of collected earth and lake plants floating in the water, bounded on all sides by wooden posts driven deep into the lakebed below. Normally, he would have been surrounded by his family, friends, and neighbors all working alongside. But Ahuatzi was nearing seventeen, the age of manhood in the Butterfly Tribe, and one did not become a man of the tribe by merely getting older. It was up to Ahuatzi to show he was ready, and for a Butterfly there were two things that made a man a man: farming, and the Pledge. Ahuatzi had been tasked with planting this chinampa by himself so the council could evaluate his work. Probably the largest chinampa in the Empire, he thought sullenly. He knew that was not true, but right now he was having trouble believing what he knew. Ahuatzi gouged the soil with his stick and stooped to gently lay kernels of corn from his heavy hemp bag into the small hole. He stopped to wipe sweat from his brow with the back of a mud-caked hand. Then another step, another gouge into the soft mud, and another few kernels planted. He wiped his brow again. Then he took another step. And so on. And so on. He’d been at it since before dawn, and now the sun was climbing to midday. Another hour or so and it would be vacac, the sixth hour past sunrise, when he could eat and sleep during the hottest time of day. Then he would wake and be back at it again, until long after dark. And again the next morning, he thought grimly. Ahuatzi straightened and looked back at his planting. And maybe the next. At his current pace, Ahuatzi doubted he would have even a third of the chinampa planted before he went to bed. That was bad. Speed mattered; it was one of the things the council would consider in evaluating his performance. A farmer had to be able to work fast. The corn had to come first and be down quickly so the beans and squash could also be planted before the heavy rains came. The sturdy corn stalks would give the beans something to use as they climbed to the heavens, seeking the light. The squash would spread down below and shade the roots from too much water and sun. Yes, he would need to work much faster if he wanted to prove himself. However, he did take some comfort knowing his rows were very straight, his holes evenly spaced, and the right depth. Neatness counted too; bad work done quickly fed no one at harvest. Ahuatzi personally preferred neatness to speed in most things. He straightened and stretched his back. He unstopped the deerskin bottle that hung around his neck from a twisted leather cord. Ahuatzi drank just enough to take the edge of his thirst. Meanwhile, his feet sank down further into the mud. Xichán, his older brother, said that if one held still too long on a newly built chinampa he would sink to the bottom. Ahuatzi did not believe that but he shifted his feet anyway. No point in taking chances. Even Xichán could be right now and then. Ahautzi stoppered the bottle and went back to his work. He tried to work faster. He was not successful. He settled for neatness and just kept at it. At least it was a pace he knew he could maintain. Maybe he would not sleep during vacac, just eat corn cakes in the shade and then work during the afternoon heat. Just thinking about it made him feel tired all over. But then he thought about the council and his slow start today, which woke him back up. He kept on working, sowing more corn as the sun climbed higher and higher. Stab, stoop, straighten, and again. Finally, he knew he had had enough. He felt himself stagger as he dug the stick into the mud, and more than once the kernels spilled out of his hand before reaching the hole. It was time. Time spent resting now would make him work better later. He looked at a stand of jacaranda trees near the far shore, their purple spring blossoms waving invitingly in a high breeze. Ahuatzi could sit in their shade and rest his feet in the water. He slowly made his way across the chinampa and back to solid ground. He retrieved his sandals, bound them around his feet, and began walking. He soon arrived at his destination. He dug into his bag for his corn cakes. Wrapped in leaves to keep them soft and fresh, his sister had flavored them with honey. With a prayer to Kukulkán he began to eat. He drank some more and sat with his feet in the small streamlet that fed the lake. The chinampa did not look so very big from here. Above, the wind sighed and shook the branches. Jacaranda blossoms fell around him. He leaned back against one of the tree trunks. He would not sleep during the vacac; just close his eyes and listen to the sounds: wind in the trees, water lapping at his feet. That would be enough. His eyes closed. He drifted in and out, letting it all wash over him. That was when the attack came. Dialogue sample: “Ahuatzi!” Xochi ran over to where Ahuatzi was slinging a heavy pack across Kilca’s back. One of two llamas kept by the village, Kilca was a gentle soul and a sure-footed friend on any journey. She waited patiently as Ahuatzi finished securing the load, then bent her long, graceful neck to pluck up some grasses. Task done, Ahuatzi turned to his sister and greeted her. “Health, Xochi.” “Papa said you were not going to the chinampa again today. He said you go to trade with the Turtle tribe.” “Yes,” Ahuatzi said. “It was decided last night.” He yawned. After Ahuatzi’s decision to forbear the Pledge, there had been no reason to not have everyone pitch in. Yesterday the men of the village had come and together finished working Ahuatzi’s chinampa. They had worked late, but now the last of the corn was all planted. It would be a few days before the beans would follow. The village could work on other chores now like thatching roofs and digging trenches before the rainy season. Nopaltzín had suggested Ahuatzi be the one to take the trade. Ahuatzi was excited, he had never been so far in his life. “Acahuatl is doing the trade,” Ahuatzi said. “I just go to help with the animals.” “The Medicine goes with you?” she asked, surprised. “He has the respect of the Turtle Tribe, and they honor his trades. He also speaks a little of their tongue.” “Do you think he will tell any stories as you go?” “I hope so. It would seem a waste otherwise.” “What do you trade?” “Cacao, mostly,” Ahuatzi said. “They are mad for it in the islands. We also take the leftover chilis planted after last year’s rains. We have a few metal tools, including a copper hatchet.” Xochi whistled. Copper tools were valuable indeed, worth many, many cacao. “Who else goes with you?” she asked. “Acahuatl says we shall have a few men from the Kinkajou tribe to go with us, for protection.” “Kinkajou? Why would they protect Butterflies?” “They are well paid, one xum for every lim’nah of the trade that we return to the village with.” A lim’nah was the worth of seven xums, which meant the Kinkajou would make one seventh of the trade’s value without growing or gathering anything. “I do not like Kinkajous, not after what they did to you,” she said. “It is said they can go backwards as easily as they go forward.” “They have never broken faith on a trade,” Ahuatzi said. “They would only get to do so once. Ruining us is one thing, but they do not wish to ruin themselves.” But inside he agreed. The idea of walking to and from the place of trade surrounded by Kinkajous was not pleasing. Xochi paused for a while, scratching Kilca’s soft ears. Then she asked, “May I go with you?” “To the place of trade?” “Did you intend to go anywhere else today?” Xochi asked. “No.” “Then obviously yes, I wish to go to the place of trade.” Ahuatzi looked at her. Several questions flooded in, the first being, “Why?” “Why do you wish to go?” “Ah,” Ahuatzi said. “I suppose,” he said thoughtfully, “because it is different. It will be interesting to see Turtles up close, to see what they bring, and to watch the trade. I also wished to swim in the ocean for a while, maybe collect a token from the beach.” “Fine reasons. Need I have others?” “It is different for girls,” Ahuatzi said. “It is,” Xochi said. “And that is another reason for me to go.” “What of papa?” Ahuatzi asked. “He has not said no,” Xochi said. “You did not ask him.” “No. But that does not make what I say untrue,” she said with a smile. “Xochi!” Ahuatzi threw up his hands. Nopaltzín and Xichán would be back on the lake, gathering reeds for mats. There would be no time to go and ask. “What of Acahuatl?” Ahuatzi asked. “If he says yes, you will agree?” “I suppose he would not say yes if it were dangerous,” Ahuatzi allowed. “And we will be back long before dark,” Xochi added, pressing her advantage. “Give over, little brother! You will surely go again. For me, this may be my only chance to see it!” “Unless you marry a Turtle,” Ahuatzi observed. “I hear they are quite handsome,” Xochi said. “I hear they are the ones who spread that tale.” They both laughed. “Very well, if Acahuatl agrees I agree. Ay, Xochi, but I cannot deny you anything!” “And that is why I did not ask papa or Xichán,” Xochi said with a sweet smile. She kissed his forehead. “I am grateful, little brother.” “Grateful?” Ahuatzi and Xochi started. They had not noticed Acahuatl approaching even as they spoke. “Very suspicious, gratitude,” the old Medicine said. “No one is grateful when they are given what is theirs by rights!” “My sister wishes to go with us, Medicine,” Ahuatzi said. “Why would she be grateful? Do you plan to carry her?” “No, but-” Ahuatzi caught the Medicine’s eye, and could see the humor there. “Honored Medicine,” Xochi said, bowing her head. “I would wish to come to with you. It would mean much to me.” She looked up and smiled hopefully at the old medicine. His weathered features softened, and he smiled back, a mirroring gesture. He stretched out a thin arm and gave her an affectionate pat on the head. “No,” Acahuatl said. Xochi looked as if she had been fed an uncooked frog. “Let us depart. I do not intend to run, nor do I intend to be late,” Acahuatl said, gesturing to Ahuatzi. Ahuatzi looked at Xochi, who was still standing and mouthing silent words. His heart went out to her, but inside he wondered if it was not for the best. He gently led Kilca away after the old Medicine.

Hello. Here are my seven completed assignments in advance of the conference in December. I reordered them a bit for purposes of presentation. Thank you. Assignment 3: The Breakout Title “The Aztlan Codex, Part One: The Obsidian Empire” This title is meant to convey a sense of the setting and cause intrigue while keeping the major plot points a mystery. It is also stated up front that it is the first in a series of books (outlined currently as six books in total) at signal to the reader they are beginning an epic journey. Assignment 4: Genre and Comparable Works The genre that describes this work is an epic fantasy. The books are rather long and form a multi-part story while and set in an exotic locations with magic (called Sorcery in-world). Also, as in most epic fantasy, the story features the points of view of many characters in disparate locations. First Comparable Work: The Daevabad Trilogy (author S. A. Chakraborty) The Daevabad Trilogy uses the unique myths, creatures, history and cultures of the Near East to create an engaging setting and a unique blend of magical and political turmoil. The Aztlan Codex does something similar using New World myth, legend, geography and cultural touchstones from North, South, and Central America. Also tonally the books are similar in that they are neither “grim and gritty” fantasy like Game of Thrones but not the classical “high” fantasy of the Lord of the Rings or the Chronicles of Narnia. The characters have physical needs: they sweat and lust, but it is not graphically portrayed. Second Comparable Work: The Temeraire Series (author Naomi Novak) The Temeraire Series are wonderful fantasy books that blend real history with fictional elements, specifically a world where the Napoleonic Wars have intermixed the presence of dragons that have been harnessed as military assets and formed into aerial corps, as well as other magical implications. Likewise, the Aztlan Codex uses actual historical practices and cultures of the New World and overlays magic and other legends into their lived experience. What if the world had been doomed to end in 2012 (the end of the 13th Bak’tun of the Calendar Round) and human beings not only knew this, but were actively seeking to either prevent or bring this end about? What if the gods of the Popol Vuh and the Dresden Codex were not only real, but could interact with the societies that worshipped them? What would it mean if Sorcery were tied to blood, spirits, and the Calendar Round? And more intriguing, what if the great cultures of the Americas (Maya, Aztec, Teotihuacan, Inca, Olmec, Mapuche, Muisca and Pueblo) traded and formed stable governments interactive with each other? Assignment 7: The Importance of Setting Aztlan refers to the land the Mexica (aka Aztecs) believed they had journeyed from before arriving in the Valley of Mexico. This is the origin of Aztlan as it appears in my story. Aztlan is that mythic world of gods, monsters and magic. In Aztlan great tribes based on the actual cultures of the New World have risen up and formed powerful alliances and governments. To create an immersive and living world, I have drawn on their real-life technology, cuisine, economics and other cultural considerations but also deviated now and then for purposes of storytelling. So for instance, the common liquors of the world such as chicha and balche are based on real liquors from the New World drunk by the Inca and Mexica (made from corn and honey) but tepache, a pineapple-based liquor, comes from trade with the Sunset Isles, a corollary with our world’s Polynesia though there is no evidence of trans-pacific trade. This is a small example of the kind of blending of fact and fiction to create a small detail of life, and has been done to the nth degree with everything including religion, trade, food, metallurgy, warfare, politics, etc. Also, the architecture and buildings of the various tribes is often reflected our world as well. As an example, the Thunderbird, one of the northernmost of the Great Tribes, build and live in massive cliff cities such as Mesa Verde in Colorado or Montezuma’s Castle in Arizona (albeit on a much larger scale). The Condor meanwhile live on terraces based on sites such as Machu Picchu. The Tree Frog build large cities in the treetops of the Flooded Forest, a region based on the flooding of the Amazon River Basin (albeit the idea of a large tree-top city is pure fantasy). Coatepec, the imperial capital city, is a large floating city on a lake that recalls Tenochtitlan. People familiar with the subject will see many more parallels in the descriptions and maps of the important areas of Aztlan. Using the New World and its peoples as the base for an epic fantasy was a deliberate choice, first because of my fascination with the region, and second because I feel we have enough stories based on European cultures and history. Thus magic, for example, is based on the turning of the Calendar Round (an important part of many Mesoamerican cultures), blood sacrifice, and shamanistic/animalist practices. There are no magic wands or broomsticks. I believe this setting will make The Aztlan Codex stand out as something different and (hopefully) well-regarded. Assignment 1: Story Statement This story is primarily based on the perspectives of three main protagonists whose paths are drawn closer together: The first, Ahuatzi, is a young man whose sister has been kidnapped. Coming from a home of strict pacifists he nevertheless sets out hoping to find her and, if possible, bring her back. He wants to hold to his family's ideals, but can he do so and still accomplish his goal? What must he sacrifice to save her, assuming she can in fact be saved? The second main protagonist is Caxcal. Born into a world of wealth and privilege, he has spent his adult life trying to distance himself from the politics and plots of the empire’s elites. But when his father recalls him to the court, Caxcal finds himself enmeshed in their intrigues and political maneuvers despite all he can do. His only way out might be to not only learn to play but to beat his rivals at their own games. The third major character is Tozi, a brilliant but troubled scholar, who sees in the stars above the signs of impending doom for the empire. But while she struggles to be heard and raise the voice of warning, someone dear to her is threatened by a sinister conspiracy intent on upending the empire from top to bottom. Tozi must now prove the threat she warns of is real, or the ones she loves will pay the price. Assignment 2: The Antagonist(s) The Antagonist of the story is a secret cabal known as the Brotherhood of the New Moon. The members of this conspiracy range from some of the greatest in the empire to the humblest. The motives of this company are mixed: some believe they can save the empire through unsavory means, others are merely seeking power and profit for themselves, and others seek to bring about the very calamity the others wish to prevent. For the first half of the book, each protagonist is not even aware of the brotherhood’s existence. The secrecy of the organization means that members can and often are revealed in ways designed to heighten the story’s tension. One overarching feature of the Brotherhood worth noting is they are complicit in bringing back the forbidden practice of Blood Sorcery, long since banned in the empire. They wish to harness this power for their own ends. It is for this purpose that innocents such as Ahuatzi’s sister are being taken from their homes, and it is through the actions of members of this cabal that Tozi and Caxcal end up having to work together to save someone dear to them both. As the stories progress the leaders of the Brotherhood of the New Moon will take on more POV chapters. The current head of the order, not met in this book, is Iklo, a sociopath who believes that rise of the gods of Outer Night (Xibalba) is inevitable. In light of this he works to bring about the end of the world not with the hopes of saving humanity (who are not in his opinion worth saving) but with the idea that his service will lead to his joining them as a god himself. The Lords of Xibalba have promised him this, and even though he is skeptical of their promises, he considers resistance futile and the only logical course to do as they wish and hope they make good on their promise. He kills or saves, does good or bad, solely based on whether the act furthers this ultimate goal. Almost no one in brotherhood knows his true purpose. The brotherhood is the active threat in the first books, but soon the Lords of Outer Night (thanks to the brotherhood’s actions) begin to take a more active role in the world. It is up to our heroes and others they meet along the way to find the ways and means to fight back and save their world, or watch it be destroyed. Assignment 5: Core Wounds and Hook Lines As there are three major characters in this matter, I will write three different hook lines that draw the readers along the major story arcs: First Hook: Ahuatzi has always struggled to live up to the high ideals of his tribe and family. But when his sister is kidnapped, his choice is to abandon her to her fate or walk a path that might make him forever an outcast among his own people. Second Hook: Caxcal wants to be a better man than his father, a powerful politician who uses any means necessary to obtain his ends. At the same time, he is desperate to win his father’s approval. Can Caxcal do this and stay true to his own beliefs? Third Hook: Abandoned after a childhood tragedy, Tozi struggles to find love and prove her own worth. But just when her goals are within her grasp, everything she has worked for is threatened. Can she find the way to stop it, or will everything and everything she loves be torn away from her once again? Assignment 6: Two more levels of conflict To demonstrate this, I will provide two extracts from the book showing the internal conflict of one major character. The first is from Caxcal, who has been brought to Coatepec (the capital of the empire) by his father and ordered to make friends with other young nobles. The conversation occurs during dinner after a discussion of a war between the tribes of the north (Serpent, Jaguar and Quetzal) and the south (Condor and Tree Frog): “All that said,” Four Yunan said thoughtfully, “are we truly so much better? By Nakón, but we send many of our own down that path daily, and for what? As you say, the Pachamama and Amazonas are miserable places, littler better than Xibalba!” Caxcal shrugged. Here he would need to mind his tongue. “The Sapa makes himself equal to the Emperor,” he said, thinking on his father’s words. “The Condor and Tree Frog follow him, and him alone. If he would but submit…” “He will not,” Four Yunan said. “And he does not come to fight us, so we must go to him. And every day, more Jaguar blood is spilled.” “The entire empire bleeds,” Caxcal said diplomatically. “But by Nakón, the Jaguar are always the first and the fiercest.” Caxcal knew his flattery was obvious, and the soft words left an unhappy taste in his mouth. But to his surprise, Caxcal was developing a feel for these conversations, and right now he could tell they were nearing something important if he could just get his guest to say it. I spend seasons defying father but once back in his clutches I do everything he wishes. Why? Why do I not tell him to go the Outer Night and have done with all this? He put down the xocolatl and poured himself another cup of chicha. Four Yunan, meanwhile, took another long drink of his xocolatl. He looked into the cup for a minute, drumming his fingers on the table. “We shall obey the Emperor, of course,” Four Yunan said at last. “That is our tribe’s duty, and we will always do our duty. Who knows? The Emperor, may the gods favor and preserve him, is not long for this world. Perhaps it shall please him to make peace in his last days. If so…” The big Jaguar shrugged. His tone sounded as if he were merely thinking aloud, but Caxcal knew better. Even the fierce Jaguar Tribe favored ending the war, so much so they were willing to let the Serpent know it. Otherwise, Four Yunan would never have said that aloud, at least, not in Caxcal’s presence. However, the musings of one Jaguar youth, spoken after a heavy meal and many cups of balche and chicha, did not commit the Jaguar Tribe in any way. Which was the whole point. Caxcal shrugged as well as he drained his cup. “As for that, who can say? But it is getting late. What do you say to another cup of xocolatl, and then back to the city?” “I should like it very much,” Four Yunan said. “We must do this again some time. Next time, we shall watch these divers you mention!” Caxcal smiled and summoned their waiter. They spoke and sipped their drinks, chatting again of nothing but trivialities. You handled yourself well, he thought, even as he continued the pleasant chatter. Sensible and diplomatic. And you learned something of value. Father will be pleased with you. Is that not what you want? Is that not why you do this? By all the gods, Caxcal wished he could have answered no. The second occurs when Ahuatzi, a member of the Butterfly Tribe, arrives home to find his brother is dead and his sister is taken. His father holds his dead son, and is horrified to here that his youngest son may defy their tribe’s fundamental beliefs. Ahuatzi struggled back to his feet. He needed to find papa. Xichán. Lala. Xochi. He had to get to them. He spun in place, temporarily lost in the village where he had lived his entire life. Finally, he came to his senses, enough that his legs began to move toward his home. The thatch of the roof burned in patches, but it stood. He pushed himself onward. From inside the hut, he heard sobbing. He ran across the threshold, and his eyes adjusted to the dim light within. His father, the solid, strong Nopaltzin, cried like a baby. He held Xichán in his arms. Blood was drying on Xichán’s chest and side, and his eyes were as empty as the boy Ahuatzi had found. “Xichán!” Ahuatzi cried. He dropped to the ground next to his big brother. Nopaltzin looked up at Ahuatzi, just now noticing him. “Son!” he pulled Ahuatzi to him with one massive arm, the other still holding Xichán. “Praise Kukulkán you are safe!” Nopaltzin turned his face to look upward and said, “Thank you, Lord. You do not abandon your people.” “Papa, what happened?” “Robbers came to the village,” Nopaltzin said, smoothing back Xichán’s hair. “So many of them. When they took the food and a few tools we just watched and waited. But then…” Nopaltzin’s shoulders shook again. “They took our people. Lala. Xochi. Xochi!” Nopaltzin broke down completely. Oh Kukulkán, not that! Not her! Ahuatzi’s heart swelled up inside and he began tremble all over. His brother was dead, his sister in the hands of robbers. Ahuatzi should have been here, and… And what? What could you have done if you had been here? Probably nothing. Yet he still felt guilty. “The women ran carrying the smaller children. Some of the older boys fought back, even though we told them not to,” Nopaltzin said. “The robbers hurt them. Killed them. Then they began to burn, just for fun, I think.” Nopaltzin looked at Xichán’s lifeless body. “Xichán held on to Lala. He did not fight them, but he did not let go. He said he would rather die than let her go. So, they killed him. He did not even try to stop them.” Nopaltzin started crying again, rocking Xichán in his arms. “You were so brave, my boy. So brave.” “Papa.” Nopaltzin did not look up. “Papa!” “Sorry, son,” Nopaltzin said. He wiped his eyes and looked up at Ahuatzi again. “Where did they take Xochi and Lala?” Ahuatzi asked. Nopaltzin just shook his head. “We must go after them!” Ahautzi said. “If we leave now we can catch them!” “And what?” Nopaltzin asked. “And when we find them, what? What would you have me do, son?” “We must save Xochi!” “What would you have me do?” Nopaltzin roared the question so loudly that Ahuatzi took a step back. “I cannot fight them, I have Pledged, son. And that Pledge was to Kukulkán! Would you have me break it?” Ahuatzi was frightened, he had never heard his father yell like this before. Nevertheless, he answered. “These are not Kinkajous making trouble on a chinampa, papa!” “You think I do not know that? That this is somehow unclear to me? I assure you son, I know what this is! This is the worst! The very worst! The fiends of Xibalba come from the Outer Night to torment us! But when it is hardest, that is when the Pledge truly matters. Your brother understood that, even if you do not!” The words landed on Ahuatzi heavily, and he staggered back. His father looked angry and ashamed. Ahuatzi looked at his brother’s body. He reached out and gently closed his brother’s eyes, so Xichán looked like he was merely asleep. He looked at him a long time. “You are right,” Ahuatzi said quietly. “Xichán was the better man. I see that. I am sorry.” He got up, grabbed his travel bag, and started packing it. “Where do you go?” Nopaltzin asked. “I go after the robbers, papa.” He took a little of the cacao, he may need it on the road ahead. He grabbed some corn cakes and dried beans, and a small copper cup that he could use to drink from or warm the beans in. “Ahuatzi, no!” Nopaltzin stopped his son and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Please, son, do not go!” “I must! They have Xochi!” “They will kill you,” Nopaltzin said, his pleading changing to heavy despair. “Or, you will kill them. Either way, I lose my only child.” “I have not made the Pledge, father! Perhaps that was wise. Perhaps Kukulkán needs me to do this. I cannot break a promise I have not made!” “And you cannot live a promise you intend to break!” Nopaltzin said, voice nearly frantic. “You know our ways; you know the Pledge. If you cannot keep it today, you never will! Sooner or later, you will fall away and be an outcast. But you can choose, son. Stay here with me. Forsake this plan.” “Forsake Xochi?” Ahuatzi yelled the question into his father’s face. “Would she want you to do this?” Nopaltzin said quietly back. Ahuatzi met his father’s eyes. The thought of leaving his father, especially this way, was almost unbearable. Then he thought of Xochi, bound for a life of slavery or worse at the hand of robbers, and that was even more so. Is there a right choice? Or at least a choice that is less wrong? “No,” he said. “She would have me stay. But I cannot.”