The Highlander

by Zoe Saadia

  Yet, his day did not get any better. The leader of the Palace’s guards stared at him, indignant and afraid.

  “I kept your warriors ready for the midday, as you requested, Honorable First Son,” he said, raising his hands helplessly. “But the Honorable Chief Warlord recruited them for another mission.”

  “When?” cried out Coyotl, appalled.

  “Not very long ago.” The warrior shrugged, apologetic.

  “So, how many warriors are left to escort me to the provinces.”

  “Half of twenty, Honorable First Son.”

  “Am I, the Emperor’s heir, to travel the countryside that is facing a great war with such a small entourage?” He felt like striking something or someone. “This is unbelievable. Those were my warriors. How could the Chief Warlord just take them?”

  “Please, Honorable Master,” pleaded the warrior. “Of course you cannot travel with such a small escort. In half a day you will have your two times twenty of warriors again, I promise you that personally. Please, be patient.”

  “But I cannot wait!” Coyotl punched the wooden plank adorning the doorway, trying not to wince at the pain in his fist. “I’m to go away now, to return in a market interval!” He tried to control his temper. “Listen, give me the warriors you have and gather the rest throughout the day. We will be heading for the north first, so make sure those warriors reach me at the town of Acolma by the nightfall.”

  “Oh, Honorable First Son, you should wait for those reinforcements. It is not safe to travel with so little escort.”

  Coyotl turned around, kicking a basket lying on his path. “What choice do I have?”

  Angrily, he stormed out, back into the realm of the sun. Everything was going wrong, everything! He was supposed to go out in great spirits, with his two times twenty of warriors and his friend by his side, having two market intervals to travel leisurely, taking much pleasure out of this mission. But now? Now, he was to rush all over the Acolhua lands, with hardly a handful of warriors, while the invincible Tepanecs approached his altepetl like a lethal wave. Oh, may they all go to the lowest level of the Underworld!

  As he eyed the warriors pouring out of the building, the bushes behind his back rustled, and he turned abruptly as a small hand grabbed his arm. Not again! Iztac’s face beamed at him, fresh and shiny in the strong morning light.

  “What’s amiss?” she asked breathless. “Everyone is running around like the world is all amok. Are the Tepanecs here?”

  He blinked, eyeing her, his breath caught. Her hair was pulled high in elaborately woven braids, revealing her face entirely, to shine against the morning sun like a golden statue. The bright greenish blouse and skirt set off her golden skin, with the matching necklace and turquoise earrings enhancing the effect.

  “No, not yet,” he said, clearing his throat. “It’s just… Well, there are all sorts of things amiss, but nothing that should concern you in particular.”

  “Are you going away now?” She peeked at the warriors behind his back.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Oh,” Her gaze lingered, strayed toward the wooden construction as if expecting someone to come out of it.

  “Iztac-Ayotl,” he said peering at her. “What are you doing here?”

  “Oh, nothing,” she said, returning his gaze, eyes innocent, exaggeratedly so. “It was just so crazy this morning, with everyone running around nervous and agitated, so I wanted to know what’s going on.”

  “Are you allowed to go out now?”

  Her smile widened. “What do you think?”

  “Oh, Iztac, you are impossible. Go back, quickly. It’s broad daylight now, and you are not even disguised. You’ll get punished all over again.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “What can they do to me? I got punished already, didn’t I? What would they do? Send me to Tenochtitlan tied and on foot?”

  He could not suppress his grin. “That would serve you right.”

  “So, you are off now?” Her eyes strayed again, scanned the surroundings.

  “Yes.” He eyed the warriors too, annoyed with their glances, the way they measured her greedily from head to toe. “Iztac, go back to the women’s quarters now.”

  “When are you coming back?” she asked, ignoring his demand.

  “In a market interval.”

  Her eyes lit. “Oh, a market interval. It’s good. I should like to see you in a market interval.” She smiled widely. “Make sure you are not late.”

  “Oh, not you too,” he cried out, amused and annoyed at the same time. “The Emperor insists that I cover five provinces in six days. And now you. I’ll be back, don’t worry.”

  Her laughter rang out like a pair of coppery rings, attracting the attention of the warriors once again. “Just be back in time. It’s important. I’ll tell you why when you are back.” She peeked behind his back once again. “So you are off, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I’m off. You’ve asked me that about twenty times now.” He peered at her. “What do you want, sister? Just spill it out already.”

  “Oh, nothing, nothing. I’ll go back now, I guess.” She hesitated. “Your Highlander is coming with you, isn’t he?”

  “No, he is not. I think he left with the Aztecs.”

  “Oh,” Her face fell. “I thought he was supposed…” She frowned. “Oh well, I really should go back.” She peered back at him. “When did the Aztecs leave?”

  He laughed. “This is the question that made the whole Palace agog. Somewhere around the dead of the night is anybody’s guess.”

  Her grin puzzled him. “Not the dead of the night surely. But maybe through the second part of it.” She shook her head. “Well, I’ll be off now, brother. Have a safe journey, and come back quickly. I’ll be waiting for your return, but not if it takes you more than a market interval.”

  He watched her hurrying down the well-swept path, a merry spot of bright green and gold. What has come over everyone? he wondered. Has everyone just gone mad?

  Chapter 11

  Coatlinchan turned out to be quite a large town, spread well away from the muddy shores of the Great Lake. Curious, Kuini watched the narrow alleys running between the scattered one and two-story houses, wooden or cane-and-reed made. In such a place, the superiority of his Acolhua enemies was hardly showing. Save for a few two-story high pyramids, this town looked no better than any town of the Highlands. Texcoco provinces were not much to look at, he decided, amused.

  They reached this town toward the end of the day, having covered much distance on foot. Had they taken the wide, well-kept road, they would have moved much faster, but the Aztec insisted on avoiding the regular routes, and Kuini was more than happy to comply. He didn’t know the roads as well as he knew the tracks, and the shortcuts, having traveled those with his brothers, on an occasional raid.

  Elated to be outside, his freedom at his fingertips, he led them confidently, pleased with their growing appreciation. The warriors’ attitude thawed, and no more dark or disdainful glances were shot at him, while the Warlord seemed to be outright proud of his protegee. Kuini grinned to himself. This man was such a mess of good and bad.

  Startled, the governor of Coatlinchan seemed at a loss as to how to proceed when twenty arrogant, dangerously armed, and determined visitors descended upon his palace. Pale and afraid, the elderly man tried to keep the remnants of his dignity by offering the best guest quarters upon the Palace’s grounds - a small, prettily set cottage in the artificial groves near the wall. With his entourage of advisers and warriors following, he tried to understand the unusual sort of mission the Aztec high officials were on.

  “What we need most is to commandeer a small fleet of your best boats,” said the Warlord, strolling through the gardens arrogantly, ahead of his hosts. “With dawn we are to sail to Tenochtitlan. Our journey is urgent and extremely important, so I would appreciate if the boats would be prepared this very evening.” He glanced at his host, eyes cold and firm, but amiable. Oh, that man knew he would be obeyed, t
hought Kuini, watching with admiration. “For now, of course, a bath and a good meal for me and my people will do. We appreciate your hospitality. My personal gratitude, and that of my Emperor, will know no bounds. In such difficult war times all settlements on this side of the Great Lake should support each other with no reservations.”

  Kuini wanted to laugh. Flowery pleasantries said in a tone that brooked no argument. A ridiculous combination that had clearly had the desired effect on the local ruler. Their mats, in the pretty cottage among the trees of the secluded part of the gardens, were soft, their blankets of the best quality, their meal rich, and their bath scorching hot.

  Kuini tried not to wince, fighting the urge to run away, breathing with difficulty in the thick fumes, having never entered the baths of the Lowlanders before. What a strange way to clean oneself, he thought, sweating in the profuse heat, at a loss for what to do with a bunch of twigs thrust into his hands. The other warriors seemed to enjoy themselves, sitting on stone benches, scrubbing the dirt and accumulating sweat off their naked bodies. Hardly visible in the clouds of mist, which kept spreading every time a slave with a bucket would come in, splashing more water on the red-hot glowing wall, they laughed and joked with each other and their leader, content and perfectly at ease.

  “A nice way to finish a long day,” said the Aztec as they reclined around the low tables, devouring their food with enjoyment. “I wish through every campaign some provincial town would be there to serve and to entertain. Do you think this petty ruler will have the sense to send us a pretty slave girl or two, or twenty for that matter, to finish our day most perfectly?”

  The warriors laughed.

  “Twenty-one,” said the tall warrior, whom the Aztec had told to keep an eye on Kuini on the previous night, when leaving Texcoco. “Our guide is also a person and not such a young boy as not to enjoy a pretty girl.” He grinned at Kuini. “Aren’t you?”

  “Oh, how inconsiderate of me,” laughed the Warlord. “Yes, kid, you’ll get the prettiest one of them all. You did your job perfectly.” He turned to the others, grinning. “See? One doesn’t need to read maps to be a perfect guide. I keep wondering how one learns all the invisible trails around those altepetls.” The large eyes bore into Kuini, but as if sensing his growing uneasiness, the man winked and turned away. “So tomorrow afternoon we are back in Tenochtitlan, with the filthy Texcoco Emperor tearing out his hair and about to get a good beating from the none-less-filthy Tezozomoc.”

  “Don’t you think they have a fair chance of pushing the Tepanecs back, with all the Lowlanders behind them?” asked one of the warriors, a heavyset man with a round smooth face. He hesitated, then added with a grin. “Honorable Leader.”

  The title sounded somewhat funny in the general atmosphere of comradeship that filled the small cozy room, so different from Texcoco Palace, where the Warlord would dine alone or in the company of a chosen few. They all laughed.

  “I do think they have a fair chance of throwing the Tepanecs back, oh Honorable Warrior,” said the Warlord, amid a new outburst of laughter. He sobered. “But this immediate victory would not help them. Tezozomoc has a great Empire, with all its imminent resources and manpower at his fingertips. And he is a great leader. And a greedy one. Texcoco people cannot beat him in the long run. They should have waited for the death of this particular ruler, which, considering his very advanced age, could not be too far away. Then they should act, with our ardent help, most probably.”

  Kuini watched the man, fascinated. He could see the warriors, listening avidly, hanging on every word. This man was the undisputed leader of those elite noblemen, the best warriors of the Lowlands, thought Kuini awed. Even should he choose to brush honorific titles aside for one unordinary evening.

  His eyelids were heavy, and he fought the sleepiness, reaching for another tortilla. He should stay awake, wait for them to fall asleep, then go away. Sailing to Tenochtitlan was definitely not a part of his plan, although those Aztecs were warming to him and were he just a boy from Texcoco, he might have considered their Warlord’s generous offer.

  Yet, as it was, he had to go away quickly. He now had less than five days to reach home and be back in Texcoco. His stomach twisted at the thought of her, waiting on the Plaza, disguised as a common girl again, with her hair braided and her long legs covered by a maguey skirt, her black eyes glittering, expectant and impatient, a mischievous smile in place.

  Aware of the growing excitement he wished to conceal, he got up quietly and went to the small window. Running away with her would put an end to any chance of fighting the Tepanecs with Coyotl. Too bad he could not postpone it until after the Tepanec invasion. Would the Lowlanders lose eventually, as the Aztec Warlord assumed they would? He shuddered. What would become of Coyotl then? There had to be a way to fight the Tepanecs with his friend. Maybe she could be placed with his mother, until he returned. He bit his lip so hard it hurt. Return back from fighting with the Lowlanders, the enemies of his people. Oh Gods, he was a mess all right. He had to go home and forget all about the great capital, all of it.

  He made his way quietly toward the nearby mat. He’d wait until they fell asleep, then he’d be gone. Back to the Highlands, back to normality, to his people, to his family, to the familiar mountains and customs, where people would bathe in a river and not in strange heated constructions.

  He must have fallen asleep after all, as in the dead of the night, he jumped up, his heart pounding. Someone rushed past him, a pair of sandaled feet.

  “The Warlord,” he heard the urgent whispering.

  “What is it?” The Aztec’s voice sounded wide awake, calm and in full control, but pressing.

  “There are warriors in the gardens. We counted about twenty of them, sneaking between the trees.”

  Kuini’s heart pounded in his ears, so strong he could not hear the words properly. More people were awake now, their whispering tearing through the darkness.

  “We wait here,” said the Warlord, jumping to his feet. Snatching up his girdle, the man busied himself with tying it up. “Let the manure-eaters make the first move, thinking we are snugly asleep.”

  Careful not to near any window, he went between the warriors, talking to them quietly, explaining, encouraging.

  “They’ll try to get in quietly, so watch the doorway and the wall openings.”

  A knife landed beside Kuini. “Use this, kid. For now. You’ll get your sword quickly enough. I’ll see to that.” The large eyes twinkled, measuring him up, penetrating, as though looking into his deepest thoughts, as though amused and appreciative of what they saw there. “You’ll be all right. I loved what you managed to do with that sword yesterday while training. So just remember what I taught you and trust your instincts.”

  Their tension welled. A quiet whispering reached them from time to time, brought into the room by a light breeze. Then, finally, the careful footsteps, heading for the doorway. These were warriors, no assassins, reflected Kuini, suddenly. They wanted to storm the place, and they would have done it anyway, although the temptation to surprise the sleeping enemy was evidently great.

  The first pair that entered the room died instantly, cut by the swords of the warriors on both sides. Both spotted cloaks pounced soundlessly, dragging in another pair of men, killing them as swiftly, while their peers dragged the first bodies in. The silence prevailed, interrupted by a slight rustling of the bushes outside.

  No one moved. Then the voices rose, and they could hear people running. An arrow flew in, hissing at the quietness of the room. Mesmerized, Kuini watched it penetrating the wood of the opposite wall, its colorful feathering trembling. More of the enemy warriors poured through the doorway, all to die as quickly as they entered.

  “Stupid manure-eaters,” he heard the Aztec muttering. There was no place to maneuver in the smallness of the room, and the enemy’s advantage in numbers was wasted.

  After a short time filled with more doorway-fighting, a fire-arrow came in.

  “All right
, time to go out and show them,” said the Aztec calmly. “Follow me and stay close to each other. Guard each other’s backs until we know how many of the dung-filled frog-eaters are out there. Hear me! Don’t scatter. Stay close.” He slipped through the doorway without waiting for an answer and without looking back.

  Kuini watched the warriors following quickly, disappearing into the darkness. His excitement welled. To wait in the closeness of the room was nerve-wracking, but the opportunity to go out, even if toward an enemy eager to kill, was exciting, liberating.

  He breathed the fresh night air deeply, then rushed into the shadow as an arrow slipped by his ear, reminding him of the battle. People were fighting all around him, swords clashing, their wooden handles creaking against each other.

  He heard the swishing of a club and ducked, stumbling and almost falling over a sprawling body. Clutching his dagger tight, he dove into the protective darkness behind the cottage.

  The man with the club followed. He could hear the heavy breathing behind his back. Darting aside, Kuini turned sharply. The club swished beside his ear, pushing against his shoulder. It made him lose his balance, and he flipped his hands in the air, groping for something to steady himself. His palm clutched the rim of the warrior’s cloak, and the man swayed too, suddenly close and momentarily exposed. The dagger, Kuini still grasped tightly in his right fist, seemed to come to life. Slippery in his sweating palm, it made its way swiftly, shooting upwards, forcing its path through the soft tissue under the man’s ribs.

  The weight of the warrior was suddenly upon him, squashing, impossible to hold against. His back hit the ground heavily, hurting his damaged left arm. He felt the man’s palms making their way toward his throat. Warm sticky liquid trickled down his own ribs. He kicked fiercely, unable to breathe, his panic welling. The man groaned, tried to grab his stomach, his body limp, pressing, choking in its stench of sweat mixed with fresh blood.