120

The way forward was blocked, and were he to be able to get through the stones Orphic knew that he wouldn't like what was on the other side. He kicked with his feet, dislodging bodies that groan and stood. Grasping his head in pain he stumbled and fell to the floor like a drunk. This time it was someone else that shoved Orphic off in an attempt to get free. Orphic rolled onto his side, and was able to push himself to his hands and knees.

Others that had been knocked down by the blast were not beginning to rise. Moans or silence came from those that were unable to move. Orphic lurched to his hands and knees and then stumbled to his feet. Dust from the ceiling rained down upon them again as the entire temple seemed to lurch beneath Oprhic's feet. A loud ringing filled Orphic's ears and he fought desperately to think clearly. He felt as though he was viewing the world through a cloud, and try as he might he couldn't quite find any order it in. There was another tremor in the building and Orphic was thrown against the wall. His shoulder hit the wall and his fell forward along it. He managed to maintain his balance and was shielded from some larger pieces of the ceiling that fell.

With a yell Orphic pushed himself away from the wall and began to run down the hallway away from the wreckage. Others were doing the same, most faster than Orphic, whose right leg wasn't working properly. Like a lightening bolt through the cloud Orphic felt the pain in his leg and head. Then the cloud came back numbing everything.

119

The man departed making his way towards the first floor archives. A vague hunch to his shoulders the was familiar to Orphic even though he couldn't place it. Orphic turned from the man and made his way into mass of Skapatians. Panic had set in amongst many of the order, Orphic could see it in their movements. Like the man Orphic had sent to the archives the people moved without purpose. Unsure about which direction their feet should travel. Orphic had no such problems, he was leaving and by the quickest means possible.

Orphic pushed through the river of people as they flowed on either side of him. Jumping from current to current as long as it brought him closer to the exit. He still had no idea where the fire was but the smoke was getting thicker and thicker and the shouts from the people were getting louder and louder. Acolytes were screaming at him, mouths working but Orphic was unable to make out what they were saying against the overall noise.

Suddenly there was a deafening sound and Orphic found himself thrown backwards and to the grown. Bodies fell everywhere around Orphic as he struggled on the floor. His ears were ringing and he shook his head trying to clear his ears. People lay on his lefts and his left side was pinned under another body. He moved the limp body with his right hand and was able to free himself. Orphic sat up, squinting through the dust and wiping what he could away from his eyes. Through the tears forming in his eyes Orphic saw the rubbled where the hallway in front of him had been. Flames licked at the stone and the ceiling timbers.

118

Orphic thought about lying, a simple no to leave this man behind. "Yes. There is much on the lower levels. Hundreds of years of history that has laid untouched for almost as many."

The man stared at Orphic, his hands brushing his soot stained robes. His black eyebrows worked up and down on his forehead as he attempted to make sense of all of the inputs flooding his senses. "We must do something. We must save it. The two of us. You and I we will go down and carry these items up."

The man began to walk passed Orphic using his hands attempting to turn Orphic back down towards the staircase. Orphic grabbed the man's hands at the wrist and said "No", when the man looked at him. "We cannot hope to save it." The man maid to protest his lips moving with no sounds coming out. "There's too much." Orphich tried to reason with the man. "Save what is here first. There are documents."

"Documents?"

"Tithes, donation receipts, prayers. These must be saved."

"Prayers?"

"Records or prayers. The scrolls, the divinations."

"The scrolls!" the man shouted. His eyes opened as though he had been smacked in the face. "We must save the scrolls!" The man moved passed Orphic, away from the stairs and towards the first floor archives. "Come with me we must save the scrolls."

"You go." Orphic said, already edging away from the man in the direction that would take him to the exit.

"But..."

"Go!" Orphic shouted snapping the fear back into the man, a technique that had worked many times with the old furoo who could do nothing more then drown them selves in the dregs of drinks. "I must speak with Salus." Authority. "Please hurry."

117

Orphic made his way to the main floor no longer concerned about being seen. As soon as he came close to the main level he could seem the smoke and hear the people. Members of the Skapatian order were everywhere. Some seemed to be panicking, while others were directing lower members of their order in what appeared to be an attempt to save some of the orders valuable history.

"You there from the lower levels." Orphic turned, realizing that that man was talking to him. "You there," the man walked up to Orphic and stood in front of Orphic blocking his path. He was a tall man wearing a red robe and a black slash. "is there much to be saved in the lower levels?"

Orphic could see the panic in the man's eyes hidden behind a veneer of calm. He was speaking to Orphic as though he was a member of the Skapatian order. The man saw Orphic without truly seeing him, like a fish caught in a tidal pool swimming in circles looking for the deep.

116

He reach the doorway and paused with his hands on the worn wood. He brought his ear close to the door and listened. Between the low sound of the bells he couldn't hear anything else. Orphic slowly pushed the door opened and looked out into the hallway. His eyes blinked at they adjusted to the bright light, wiping away the tears that formed he saw that the hallway was empty.

Orphic made his way into the empty hallway and slowly made his way to the stairs. His goal was to try to find his way out one of the side entrances without being seen. He climbed the stairs up one level and found this hallways to be deserted. Here the bells were louder and he could hear fragments of other sounds coming from above. More dust could be seen piling up on the floor, where it had fallen from the ceiling. The torches in the wall scones swayed in a odd way and Orphic stopped to stare at them for a moment. Something was pulling at his mind, a memory, at hint was held in those torches and his mind struggled to remember.

Then he smelt it, a faint bitter smell that he could feel on the insides of his nostrils. Smoke. Baran! Those are fire bells. Orphic swore as he broke into a loping jog. Shit, the whole fucking place must be burning. Orphic knew that he had to get out of the Sakpatian temple and out of the Old Temple district. The buildings here were too old, too close together, and too run down.

115

Orphic could feel the bells on the souls of his feet and the palms of his hands as he pressed them to the dusty stone floor. Thatarus below, all of Cap-Sebastian must be ringing. It had been generations since all of the bells had been run, something wasn't right. A small bit of loose gravel and dust rained down on the cloth ceiling that a young Orphic had once constructed.

Orphic's mind swam too much had happened that day and he was having difficulty keeping it all together. His mind was racing from one detail to another. Darius, the girl at the market, Abelia, the Sakpatian temple, Salus, the woman, his old hiding spot, and now the bells. He was having difficulty breathing, as though his chest was being pressed in a vice. This wasn't a life, lives did not hang on the edge of decisions. Lives should be sooth, tempered, even. The constant pressure and struggle was too much if there was anything left of the gods or the old gods, surely this wasn't what they meant for people; squeezed to the very point of breaking.

Orphic's hand brushed against the carved wooden warrior Ajax. He picked him up and held him close to his face so that he could make out the rough scratches that were the toy's face. He closed his eyes for a moment holding the toy with both of his hands, almost as though he was in prayer, but his mind was blank. He let go of the day and sought darkness in his mind, emptying his vessel he looked with closed eyes and saw the darkness, black and empty. His ragged breath slowed and the pain in his chest eased. In this he found calm.

Standing Orphic tucked the toy warrior into the worn leather pouch on his belt and began to make his way out of his sanctuary. Somehow he knew that there was a finality in this act, a door closing that he had left opened for too long. He made is was back to the entrance to the room retracing his footprints in the dust.

114

Orphic laid his hand on the statue of the bear and slowly turned the corner, taking care to duck underneath make-shift bridge of cloth he had erected all those years ago. It was dark but there was still just enough light for Orphic to see. He wasn't sure if he should be shocked or not, but everything was still there. The candles, the toy figures, blanket and pillow, all covered in a think layer of dust

Orphic sank to his knees and picked up one of the wooden figures. A toy warrior with a sword and shield. Orphic well remembered Ajax, and the battles they had fought together. Orphic brushed the dust from the warriors rough face and lovingly placed the warrior back on the floor. He squeezed his eye tightly shut as his emotions began to overwhelm him.

Orphic's mind struggled to asses what had happened to him on this day that brought him. He struggled to control his racing heart and mind. Orphic desperatly wanted to find the woman that had spoken to him, but he knew that he couldn't risk leaving his hiding spot now. Salus came to his mind, and Orphic tried to banish thoughts of him. His mentor, his caregiver, what had happened and why? Abelia would be alright, she always managed to keep going in one way or another. Aye, she'll keep going right up until she doesn't.

Orphic sat stairing out into the darkness for a moment, his breath stilling. The silence was nice, he felt safe here, he always had. Then he heard something, it was a low regular sound. A bell. Another sound started up, this one just off the original and slightly louder. Then the bell of the Sakpatian temple began to sound. The sound was muffled three levels below the ground, but loud enough to erase all doubts. The cities bells are ringing?

113

As he neared his destination he began to slow down. His heart was pounding, but he was able to catch his breath as he no longer heard anyone behind him. He had traveled a few levels below ground and was hiding in an old area of the temple that had been used for storage for centuries. When he lived at the temple this area was largely unused and provided Orphic with a place to explore and be on his own. He opened a door and slid through, closing the door silently behind him.

Orphic stood in the dark room for a moment letting his eyes adjust to the low light. There were no torches in the room, but the gaps around the door let enough light from the hallway seep into the room. His memories were enough for him, and he began to make his way forward. Nothing had changes, he scanned the room and it seemed as though even the precarious wooden boxes were in the exact same place they had been when he left. He began to make his way through the stacks of ancient items. Statues, scrolls, chairs, rugs, tables, paintings, all piled and stacked haphazardly.

Orphic was silent as he moved through the stacks. Past the books and through a section that he used to call statute alley, finally arriving at his destination. He closed his eyes at the large statue of the bear, his guardian of old, and held his breath. He hadn't thought about this place in a very long time, and he was not second guessing listening to the gut feeling that brought him here, but he was already feeling the calming affect that this place always had on him.

112

*8*

Orphic's bare feet made slapping sounds as he ran down the empty hallway. His breath was like fire in his throat as he flew on pure adrenaline.

111

Meztli was always out of Atl's view as his climbed the stairs, always somewhere just around the corner. The Tlatoani's slippers padding just ahead but never visible. Atl thought on what he had seen. It was a display of power that was for sure, and as the Tlatoani Atl knew that Meztli posses a great deal of power, but there was something about the way in which it was displayed. Something in the very fact that the display itself was not grand or large, but int he very matter of fact way in which the Tlatoani had commanded the situation. The level of his power was visible in how little action was needed in order to control the situation.

Atl had no idea what had happened in the hallway, why none of the other prisoners had been talked to, or what he was doing there. But something had happened, something in the man's shouts had left him crying on the cell floor with a broken arm, casually discarded.

Atl emerged from the stairwell to the first floor where the guards stood huddled around the table and Meztli was speaking with the Cuextecatl.

"...I will send men down to attend to him at once Tlatoani."

"Good good." Meztli said. "Make sure that you get a good healer to fix him up. Ah Atl," Meztli tunred to look at Atl, his face back to that of an elderly man, not the same man who lad left Atl in the dungeon, "I need to find my quarters. Do you know where the officers are staying?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now please I do need my rest, would you mind taking me? I have a room set aside for me somewhere and I desperately need some sleep."

"Yes Tlatoani."

"And you as well Atl. You look as though you could fall asleep where you stand."

110

The man shrieked as his body fell limply to the cell floor. Atl stood wide eyed as he watched the man trying to rise, his arm bending at impossible angles. Giving up the man fell to his knees his hand still gripped by the Tlatoani.

"I see the souls that trail behind you. I see that wasteland that is your past and the past of your ancestors. Your screams now match their unending protestations. Think hard on the life you lead and the death that blooms in your wake. I would advise you do this before you threaten someone you know nothing about and on a subject you are so obvious illiterate." Meztli let go of the man's hand. With a groan the man held is broken arm and slowly slipped to the floor, his rich red sleeves bunched up at his elbows. "We are not invaders," Meztli said his back now turned to the man slumped on the floor, "we are home owners, coming home to find that someone had broken into our house. That," he said emphatically, though his voice did not rise above normal speech, "is a debt that you have only started to repay."

Meztli began making his way up the stairs, leaving Atl standing there, staring at the man on the cell floor. The man looked up at Atl, pair and anger visible on his face. He yelled something that Atl could not understand. While his eyes were on Atl, Atl could not understand whether the man’s words were for the Tlatoani or himself. Meztli was already turning the corner and made no indication that he heard the man. Atl blinked twice and then followed Meztli up the stairs to the main level of the keep.

109

Meztli nodded at the man keeping his face still. The calm on his face seemed to propel the man further. Something wasn't right with the way the man moved, he was trying too hard. Too hard to keep himself under control or...?

"You would think I fear you." The man continued. "That I fear the truth? That I would sit in this cage and cower. That is not the way of the Electorate. We," the man said bringing his face so close to the bars that his flesh almost touched it, "rule here. Our word is law. We were once ruled by tyrants. Monarchs who ruled on blood and fear and we replaced them with law and order. They were the most powerful beings and the force of the mob toppled them from power. Rule and law with the electorate at its head choked their rivers of power and they succumbed to justice and truth." The man was getting more animated now, Meztli noted the spittle forming at the corners of his mouth. "You come seeking to conquer us, but we are a multitude that will not be conquered. If my life be lost my will shall live on. I will live to see you pay for the lives that you have stolen."

"Payment is always required when a life is stolen." Meztli responded with a voice devoid of emotion. He walked closer to the bars of the man's cell, close enough for the two to have touched had they simply extended their arms. "There is always a balance, be it now or in death the scales will be balanced." Meztli reached out and grabbed the man’s right hand, as it gripped the bar. With a yelp the man in the cell attempted to jump away from Meztli. The man’s body flew through the air, but Meztli’s grip was iron, and the man’s body jerked against the grip and fell slack against the bars with crack of bones.

108

"You then are the ruler here?" Meztli asked in the foreign tongue. The words felt strange as they left his mouth, as though he was cutting them short. He had studied the language as long as any other from the ancient texts but now he was speaking it.

"No." The man replied, his grey eyebrows arching as Meztli spoke.

"No. Them words spoken by me may be wrong. You are a member of the group that is known as the Electorate?" The words hung in the air. "I would not advise lies."

"Yes I am." The man's eyes looked straight at Meztli without blinking or looking away.

This one has been in power for a long time. Granted he doesn't know who I am, but I'm guessing he looked at everyone with those eyes.


"Good. This was known. Do you know who we are?"

"No. Invaders from across the sea." The man stepped away from the bars and, clasping his hands behind his back, slowly walked away from the front of the cell. After a few steps he turned to face Meztli and walked back towards him. "Invaders from the sea. There were rumours of a force that had taken a few remote outposts. A dispatch arrived the a few bells before you did."

"You had warning in advance?"

"Yes, a garbled dispatch carried by a senseless rider. We had no idea what was to come until we saw your ships in the bay. You riders from overland almost reached the gates before they were seen I'm sorry to say."

"I was not here when the battle was met. I was still travelling by the ship that brought me. This man," Meztli gestured with his right hand and Atl, who stood as still as a statue, "was here. He fought with courage."

"I find it hard to believe that there is much courage when one is a member of an invading force. I saw these men fight, they were little more then animals. You seem civil so I will warn you. The electorate will come." The man walked forward and gripped the metal bars with his hands. They will come and they will send you running back to your ships." The man tilted his head to the left, his grey hair falling to the side. "And I tell you this, when they learn what has happened here, they will bring the their ships and they will follow you back across the ocean into whatever midden heap you spilled from."

107

"Exactly the reason we are here dear Atl. Now please say nothing. I need you to stand behind me and act as soldier-like as you can. They will not be able to understand you, nor will you be able to understand them, but I cannot allow them to learn anything from you."

With that Meztli stepped off of the bottom step and into a brightly lit hallway. There were two guards lazily seating upon to chair. They had been talking and failed to notice the arrival of Atl and Meztli. Ten cells lined the hallway, each large enough for ten men. One could look into the cells through metal cars that formed a hatch pattern. Through the squares between the bars a hand could fit but not much else.

The prisoners in the cells were speaking, a strange clipped cadence that Atl had heard before but there was something different about it. Something in the extended gaps between the words and their harsh beginnings. The clipped cadence of horses in a light trot. Meztli held up his hand and Atl stopped watching as the Tlatoani's head cocked slightly to the left.

Atl could see, from where he stood still cloaked in the stairwell's shadows, light spilling from four of the cells. The first to on each side were well lit, their light greater than that of the hallways so that two competing shadows were being thrown, that of the hallway and that of the four cells.

In the first cell on the left Atl coud see two hands that were clasped between the bars. A man's hands, and on the arms rich red velvet sleeves hung down at the elbows. The cuffs of the sleeves were adorned in golden embroidery, patterns mimicking vines and leaves. There was a dark black band that ran the length of the cuff as it drooped in a long tear-drop shape. From the rhythmic pumping of the joined hands Atl could tell that this was the man speaking at the moment.

The voices stopped and the Tlatoani nodded and strode into the room.

"Guards please leave us."

The two guards jumped to their feet and hastily saluted Meztli and hurried up the stairs. Meztli walked forwards, the heels of his boots echoing the in the stoney silence of the hallway. Atl followed him into the light keeping his face level as he attempted to see the prisoners in the cells. Meztli turned to face the cell of the man whom had been talking. He gestured with his right hand slightly indicating that Atl was to stand behind him and on his right side. The Tlatoani bowed his head forward in the slighted indication of respect and began to speak.

He spoke in the clipped harsh tones of the foreigners with surprising fluency but Alt could hear a smoothness to his cadence that reminded him of the priests in the spring planting blessings for Quetzal. The rhythmic undulations of the language of Quetzal were here Atl realized. The language spoken only by those ordained to the highest orders of Quetzal could speak the language. The meanings were known well enough but the subtleties were lost as the prayers from the priests were never written down.

106

"And by that I mean," Meztli continued, "that you seem to be paying a lot of attention to what is happening here."

"It's how a soldier survives." Atl's tone was flat, and his brown eyes looked away for a moment. "Knowing what's happening now help's you to predict what will happen in the future."

105

"I don't know much of them." Atl walked down the stairs following behind Meztli. "They are different from our leaders and the ways of the Totec. Something in their bones seems different. I have had little contact with them, save glimpses of them after the battle but soldiers have stories.

"They are not a ruling class by blood, and yet their very station enforces their position. They are surprised by all of this."

"Surprised?" Meztli asked.

"Yes, as though who they are guaranteed their positions. As though rules, or the very power of history itself ensured their place and the continuation of that place into the future."

"Oh interesting. Quite astute for a member of the night watch."

104

All of the guards straightened as the saw Atl and the Tlatoani, those that were seating stood and saluted.

"We are here to see the prisoners." The Tlatoani gestured towards the open gate.

"Please follow me Tlatoani." A large guest said stepping forward from the table. The man was obviously the Cuextecatl in charge of the guards. He nodded quickly at Atl before his eyes turned back to the Tlatoani.

"No need, no need Cuextecatl, this man here Atl of the night watch is here to guide me." The Cuextecatl nodded and backed away. "There are cells below?"

"Yes." The Cuextecatl answered.

"And men with keys to those cells?"

"The keys are kept here Tlatoani."

"Good, good. No please give the keys to Atl here, and we will send the men up when we get down. Please allow no one down until we return."

"Yes Tlatoani."

"No one."

"Understood."

The Tlatoani walked forward and started walking down the stairwell that curved to the right and into the ground. Atl nodded at the men, some of whom he had fought with before before following after the Tlatoani.

"I thought that there would have been more guards." The Tlatoani said.

"Well there really isn't much need Tlatoani."

"Please Atl. I'm growing tired of hearing that honourific, let's just place them aside."

"Yes Tlatoani."

"Meztli." Meztli said flatly. "No tell me why there isn't much need."

"Well the people here were conquered. Since this castle was taken there really hasn't been any resistance to speak of. If there is to be any resistance it will come from outside the castle, so guards here are less important then those outside of the keep and castle itself."

"What of the castle's friends? Surely the nobles here will come to the aide of this castle?"

"I'm sure that the Tlacate would be better suited to answer these sorts..."

"Yes, yes Atl, but I'm asking you for a reason. A Tlacate knows things and a soldier knows things, much of what they know is the same, but much of what they know is also different. I've gotten my information from the Tlacate, and now I want the information from a soldier. Have no fear that any of this will reach the Tlacate's ears." Meztli stopped and looked at Atl. The stood in darkness with the flickering torches lining the walls to light the way. "I'm just trying to get the lay of the land Atl, that's all." With that Meztli continued walking down the steps.

103

They crossed the square and were let through the entrance to the keep without any hesitation by the four guardsmen at the entrance. The men nodded at Atl and saluted the Tlatoani. The inside of the keep was similar to that of the barracks a scene that spoke of former glory now marred by missing furniture and black soot on the walls. Atl looked down at the green and red carpet that ran the length of the hallway they stood in and strangely seemed to have been undamaged.

Tlacuilos walked this way and that with wax tablets or parchment in their hands performing a seemingly unending stream of administrative tasks. Those that took the time to look up from their work saluted the Tlatoani but most continued on their way without noticing.

"There is much to keep track of." The Tlatoani said with gestured at the men walking about. "Some will stay and some with move with the troops once everything has been settled."

Atl said nothing as a member of the first wave there was very little chance he would see his home every again. This he knew as he boarded the ships to cross the oceans back to their pre-ancestral continent. He was here to help the empire in a reclamation extolled by prophesy. He was here to balance out the scales for his family ensuring a location for his ancestors along the bone walls of Xolotl. He was here because he was a soldier, Tlamanih of the Eagle warriors and he had little say in the matter.

The turned the corner at the end of the hallways and came to a large open area with an open iron gate and stairs leading down into torchlight. Guards stood in front of the open gate at attention with spears in their hands. There was a table and chairs nearby where four guards sat hunched over a patolli board with piles of red beans and chicken bones in front of them.

102

Atl saluted the Tlatoani and walked to the door of the mess hall. The Tlatoani angled his way out of the bench and followed a few steps behind Atl.

As they emerged out into the mid-morning sunlight Atl heard the Tlatoani, most powerful of the casters, inhale deeply behind him.

"What do you think of the air on this continent? Does it remind you of home? There's something about it I think, a crispness that gives it a different feel."

"I..."

"At least to me it does, I can feel it's power though, and maybe that's not the air, maybe it's our ancestors here that I can feel. Their presence, but something else, some looseness, a space that I have trouble describing to someone who doesn't cast."

Atl walked beside the Tlatoani and across the open square towards the main keep. The air was still cool but one could no longer see one's breath in the air. Atl pause for a moment as a horse drawing a cart full of hay towards stores to be held for the castle animals during the coming winter. As they paused the Tlatoani smiled and looked around him.

"Isn't this all fascinating?" He said with a laugh. "Oh and thank you for agreeing to take me. I needed someone who had nothing to gain, unless you'r a spy." Atl must have looked at the Tlatoani too quickly as the man grinned and laughed. "Not that I think you are though. It's just hard coming to these things late. Too many currents for me. I like to see things with all of the mist and intrigued removed, plus it ensures that those who revel in the games have a more difficult time predicting my decisions." The Tlatoani stopped Atl with a hand on the man's shoulder.

"Tlatoani?"

"Although I guess that means that I'm playing games as well. Hmm maybe I am just as bad as everyone else."

"A game to end games maybe."

"Yes! I like that. A game to end games. Now to the dungeon umm what is your name soldier."

"Atl Tlatoani."

"Ah a nice name that, meaningful. Now as I said, to the dungeon!"

101

The Tlatoani waited for a moment as the silence from the Tlacate's statements hung in the air.

"Yes, now I know that there are others, but this man is here." The Tlatoani held the index finger of his right hand up in the air. "And he knows his way around the castle. Now, no more of this what I need of his is simple and we still have much to discuss." Meztli the Tlatoani looked up at Atl. "You know where the dungeon is?"

"Yes Tlatoani." Atl replied.

"Good good. Now I see that you are done your breakfast so I have a task that I need ask of you. Of course you are the last person eating in the mess hall which means that you are either a very slow eater or a very slow eater and a member of the night watch? Don't answer." The Tlatoani shook his head. "The bags under your eyes tell me everything that I need to know." Meztli the Tlatoani looked at the Tlacate for a moment and then looked back at Atl. "Now then, I need you to take me to the dungeon. Can you manage that?"

"Yes Tlatoani, I can take you there."

"Good, now we must go. Yolotl that was not too hard. See that my casters eat they will be hungry. I will see you this evening after I have had a chance to wash myself."

"Meztli please let me send someone with you."

"No need no need the slow eating soldier from the night watch will do just fine. Now then," the Tlatoani stood up, "take me to the dungeon I need to speak to the castles former owners."

100

"You are familiar with this castle?"

"Yes Tlatoani, I took it with the first wave." Tlamanih yes, but I have pride.

"You have been to the dungeons?"

"Meztli, there are others." The Tlacate spoke with fatigue in his voice.

"Tlacate." Atl bowed his head slightly and saluted the Tlacate. This was the closest that Atl had ever been to the man, and yet Atl felt as though he new him. The orders that came down were from him, and this was the man that had led them across the ocean and to victory here on the forgotten continent. The Tlacate seemed older then Atl would have guessed but there was a hardness to him. His years as an officer could not cover the body of a soldier beneath. Like the Tlamanih he was touched by the empress but his marking were simpler befitting a soldier. The golden collar was the same but instead of a ring the Tlacate wore a silver bracelet his right wrist and the matching tattoo on his right wrist. THe man's eyes were green and Atl felt as though he hadn't seem them blink the entire time.

"Tlamanih." The Tlacate nodded. There was respect in his voice.

This man was a soldier.

"The first wave," the Tlacate continued, "this will be remembered. Quetzal knows our names now Xolotl will have them in his book, our passage in death is secure."

Atl felt his back straighten unconsciously as he filled with pride. He was marked as a Tlamanih but this, from the Tlacate? This was high praise. To be in Xototl's book was every warriors desire. To achieve a balance, to secure enough for the gods and the empire to outweigh the lives taken by a soldier. Each death brought with it a heavy burden, the sundering of Quetzal's divine gift of life, but to give enough back, to pay for those lives that was what a soldier did. What every Totec did try to achieve a balance in their life, for all that they lay waste to, the same should be planted in return.

099

"Yes Tlatoani?" Atl asked nodding and bringing his left fist to his chest in a proper salute.

098

Atl turned, the eyes of the table were upon him. The Tlatoani was looking with intense eyes, then he nodded, as if coming to an internal conclusion. The man was at least twice Atl's age, perhaps fifty winters. His eye brows were still dark black with no hints of grey. Large jade plugs scratched with tiny symbols and drawings that Atl could not make out,hung in his ears. The Tlatoani wore a blue skullcap that covered his shaved head. It, along with the jade plugs, and the gold collar around his neck were enough to signify him as a high ranking caster. But it was the gold and jade signet ring on his left hand and the matching tattoo on his right hand that signified his as being touched by the Empress, as a Tlatoani.

097

Soon Atl was scraping the bottom of his wooden bowl with his wooden spoon. He was staring at the grain of the wooden table, halfheartedly counting the number of lines in the wood grain. He could feel himself getting more and more drowsy as he counted. Atl knew this wasn't a good sign and that he had to get up and do something till at least mid morning or he sleep would be off. One more week, he told himself, at least that's what they told me.

With nothing left to scrape Atl got up from his seat and walked over to the wash barrel, which was by now full of cold water, bowls, spoons, and floating bits of soup. He dunked his bowl and spoon in the water, giving them a slight push ensuring that they fill with water and sank as much as they could.

"You there."

Toci's black heart. Atl froze, closing his eyes as he cursed his luck. I should have left with the others, sleep be damned.

096

As he lifted the spoon to his mouth for the sixth time there was a commotion near the entrance of the mess hall, where Atl himself had entered just a few moments before. The few lone voices at the other table slowed to a murmur and then stopped. Atl looked up, the six spoonful of soup hanging in the air and saw the Tlacate and the Tlatoani of the Eagle army. The two were deep in conversation with a gaggle of other men following close behind them trying to look important.

Atl was surprised to see the Tlatoani as he had heard that the man wasn't supposed to have arrived at the castle for another week. The casters would be happy to learn of his arrival. His strength would lessen the burden placed on them and make their casting much easier. Judging by the dust on their clothing and the way in which the Tlatoani and the few casters, mixed in with Tlacate's men, walked the men had just arrived.

Atl dropped his spoon into his soup and hastily rose to his feet. The wooden bench squeaked along the cobblestone floors as his calves pushed against it while he straightened. The Tlatoani stopped talking and looked at Atl for a moment before resuming his conversation with the Tlacate.

The group of men behind Atl saluted the Tlacate and made their way out of the mess hall. The Tlacate and his men returned the salutes as they made their way towards a large table near the centre of the room. The salutes awakened Atl from his fatigued reverie and he quickly saluted the commander of the Eagle army, even though the men had already turned their backs towards him and were sitting down at the table. Nobody noticed.

Atl sat back down and quietly lifted the bench off of the ground and back into position. One of the men at the table got up and spoke with a member of the kitchen staff who immediately ran into the kitchen. Within moments the sounds of washing and cooking could be heard from behind the food counter. Atl looked down at his soup with a sigh and began to finish eating his soup. Just a tired Tlamanih in the corner eating his supper after a night on the watch.

095

Atl made his way to the mess hall, which was largely filled with people cleaning up from the morning meal. There were a few groups of men hunched over their soup and talking in low tones. A few people glanced at Atl as he entered but as he wasn't a commanding officer no one needed to pay him any attention.

Atl scooped the dregs of the soup out of a steaming black cauldron. He removed the thick skin that had developed on the soup with his fingers and dropped it back into the pot. He heard a sharp hiss from one of the kitchen staff and walked away quickly pretending he hadn't heard anything.

He found a seat at a table close to the one think rectangular window in the hall. The white light that streamed in through the window seemed strange and out of place. Atl idly watched dust motes drift in the sunlight, and used his breath to play with them. He dipped his wooden spoon into the soup and lifted the steaming mass into the air. It was thick and full of a dried local bean that Ecatizin had found in the stores.

Atl felt the fatigue of a night-watch in his bones and knew that he had to eat if he was going to be able to stay up for any length of time. Staying up was important, if he fell asleep anytime soon he's be up long before his shift and "dead on the walls" by morning. He brought the spoon to his lips: warm and chewy having a root-like flavour. Better, Atl reasoned, the man's doing better.

094

Alt was tired as he walked down the stairs to the lower Bailey. The scene before him was coming alive in the awakening morning light. Fires had been lit to provide light and warmth in the cool morning air. Horses and men walked through the courtyard, Toltec and foreigners alike. Some of the foreigners moved with care avoiding the gaze of the Toltecs. Others walked with well-practiced avoidance, their eyes on the ground when they passed with the Toltecs or their own kind. Atl had watched this progress as the weeks had passed with the Eagles occupying the castle. The poor seemed to fall into the new routine much quicker than those that had something to lose.

Old master or new master, for them it did not make much difference. He could see the old bones in the way that they moved. Their place was a place of history, a role passed down to them. Which was why it was harder for the foreigners who had something before the invasion. At every turn their bones knew something was wrong, this wasn't the life they were supposed to live.

Sun glinted off of puddles in the cobblestone and on moisture slowly running down the castle walls. Atl walked up a two steps and then ducked into the entrance to the barracks. His eyes blinked as they became accustomed to the lower interior light. The interior of the barracks was a ramshackle affair full of furniture taken from the main keep and hastily repaired tables and chairs. The fighting in the barracks had been some of the worst as the some of the garrison had retreated inside to their stocked weapons cache. Doors and windows had been hastily barricaded at a point where any experienced commander would have known the battle was over.

Still there was a sort of honour in such a stand, even when it made no sense, perhaps because it made no sense. Old bones ran through everything and sometimes they killed you.

093

Atl heard voices coming from behind him, in the direction of the stairs to the main level. He checked the sun and yawned knowing that his shift was now over. Panitzin and Huemac walked towards him.

"The sun rises and we greet you." Panitzin said.

"For me the night sets." Atl replied.

"Any news from the night." Huemac said officially.

Atl sighed internally. "No nothing. It was a quiet night, even the animals seemed to be sleeping."

"Good good, the we will relieve you of your post."

"The morning meal is still being served." Panitzin offered, "If you hurry you should be able to make the mess hall in time."

"Soup?"

"Yes, Ecatizin's getting better. My guess is you'll only spend half the day at the latrines."

"Which end?" Atl asked. "Last time it was my face in the hole."

"Today it'll be your ass," Panitzin laughed, "Ecatizin likes to keep us guessing. If you make it don't let on that I spoiled the surprise."

"Enough of this." Huemac said cutting of the laughter. "The night watchman must be tired and we need to ensure that the perimeter is secure." Huemac turned and began walking away down the ramparts.

Panitzin raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders as he turned to walk away. Atl waited until this were lost in the shadows of nearest tower. With a sigh Atl turned and began walking towards the stairs hoping that there was still some soup left, regardless of what it did to him. As a Tlamanih Atl had earned his rank on the battle field. His family was poor but he had worked his way through the lower military ranks and into the Eagle society. A Tlamanih Eagle of the first wave was an honourable and esteemed position. He did not lead men, but he was a proven warrior battle-tested and reliable. The attitudes of some changed as his rank did, but for others the very rank he acquired marked him for what he was: poor.

092

*7*

Atl of Tlamanih of the Eagle warriors, loyal to the Empress and of the first wave looked at the land of his pre-ancestors. The place where his ancestors had been before they had been his ancestors. A place of the past for his people, and now a place of the present. He touched the cold stone of the castle ramparts, It is a good castle, he reasoned. It is a shame that the Eagles had to destroy parts of it, but it was what had to be done. The prophecies had spoken and the lands of their pre-ancestors had to be retaken. The Totec had come home and the welcome had been bloody.

The castle had old bones and Atl was sad to have been a part of it's destruction. He loved old things, and the castle stretched back to a time of long ago, it's location known on Totec maps. Of course it had not been a castle on those yellowed parchments, it had been nothing more then a circle on a map. Perhaps a wooden wall encircling a small village, perhaps nothing more then a summer camp. The maps were not specific but the details had proven correct. The sky began to brighten as the very hint of the rising sun began to spread across the land.

Atl stretched his back and raised his hands to the coming morning. He welcomed the sun and thanks Quetzal for bringing forth another day. Atl was not a religious man, yet he knew of know warrior that did not thank Quetzal for the day when at war. These foreigners were soft, they wrapped themselves in the comfort of these stone walls thinking them to be unbreachable. Atl reasoned them primitive, the walls were strong but hiding within them while your enemy threw stone after stone against your wall was insane. The eagles rained stones down upon the castle walls day and night while the foreigners stayed within. Then the casters arrived and they added the power of the ancestors to the stones. Soon glowing red stones had lit the night sky and made short work of the walls. Old bones were strong, yet with enough force even they could be broken.

091

The cart bumped along the dusty road. The two figures in the back of the wagon lay still, only moving when the wagon encountered exceptionally large ruts. Then the two prone figures would groan and adjust their positions slightly, desperately trying to soften the impact of the next jostle. The figure with the black hat draped over his eyes groaned loudest of all.

The two figures in the front of the wagon sat silently watching the road. The woman held the reigns loosely in her hands, gently guiding the horses into as many ruts as possible. The man beside her watched the progress of the wagon with a slight smile on his face. The smile felt strange to him, like porcelain thawing. He has spent too long alone, a lone guardian, and moments like these had only been vague hints in his dreams.

He had tried to present softness to those around him but on the inside was made of stone. A tool for an age, alone for an age, he sat at the front of the wagon and wanted to thaw. Had those years hardened him into the weapon that was necessary? Had the slow pressure of time forged him into steel of a sufficient strength for what lay ahead? He thought of the ruts on the road and refused to think of the future.

“I felt you scrying last night.” Cytheria flicked the reigns slightly as the wagon lurched out of a dip in the road. Perun said nothing in reply. “You didn’t finish, but I could feel the power, I’m sure Kwyn could as well. It was nice.”

“What was?”

“Being that close to it again.”

“You’ve stayed away.”

“For a long time. I turned away from all of it. I tried to fade away. But feeling it again, it was like a breath of home.”

The both sat silently for a while. Perun waited for Cytheria to continue.

“Has much changed?”

“Yes,” Perun replied, “I believe that new powers are awakening. The field is changing.”

The man in the back seat smiled beneath his broad black hat as the wagon traveled down the dusty road. The field is indeed changing.