S Farrell - A Magic of Dawn

In his visions, Axat had granted him only momentary glimpses of this moment-or perhaps that had been his own fears influencing the direction of his far-sight. Whichever, Axat had never let him see it fully. In the original vision he’d had, back in Tlaxcala, this moment had not been on the paths of the future at all. Yet the twisted snarl of possibilities had led him here, despite his attempts to evade it. It was yet another reminder that the future was malleable and changeable, and that there were other influences than Axat’s at work.

Mahri and Talis had learned that, to their doom. Perhaps it was now Niente’s own turn to be given the lesson.

Citlali was smiling, an expression that Niente had never liked in the man’s face, since what amused the Tecuhtli was often unpleasant for others. Tototl was watching also, though the High Warrior’s face was stoic-whatever he was thinking, it was hidden from Niente. “Perhaps we should let Axat decide, then,” the Tecuhtli said. “You should demonstrate your strength for me, if you’re to remain Nahual. And if not…” Citlali shrugged then, broadly, the tattoos on his body moving like painted shadows. “… then perhaps Atl will be the Nahual.”

Niente saw his son’s eyes widen as he realized the implication of what Citlali had just said. “Tecuhtli, this is not why I came to you.” He glanced toward Niente, shaking his head.

“Perhaps, but it’s what I’m asking of you. You’ve your spell-staff, and Niente has his. Let us see who is stronger. Let us see who Axat wishes to be Nahual-now, while there’s still time.”

Atl looked over at Niente desperately again. “I can’t. Taat, this isn’t-”

“You’ve no choice now,” Citlali answered, and his voice was firm but not unkind. “That’s the way of things: the weak fall to the stronger, as Necalli fell to Zolin, and when Zolin fell, the red eagle came to me.” He touched his skull, where the blood-hued bird was inked. Tototl glanced at it as well. “As one day, I will fall. Or are you telling me that Nahual Niente is correct, and that you’ve not seen correctly?”

Atl was shaking his head, and Niente saw him caught, snared like a rabbit between truth and his love for Niente. “Taat,” he said, “I ask you, for our love, for the good of all the warriors here, to give up the golden band and your bowl.”

Niente could feel himself standing at a crossroads. Even without the scrying bowl, the air around him seemed to be filled with the emerald mist of Axat, waiting for him to choose. There: he could lay down the bowl, take off the armband, and simply become Niente who had once been a nahualli, letting Atl come into his legacy. Or he could refuse… And down that road there was only mist and confusion and uncertainty. He wasn’t certain he had either the strength or the will to defeat Atl, not when it would almost certainly mean the death of one or the other of them.

Yet it had come to this. There were no other paths open.

Axat, why have you given me this burden? Xaria, could you ever forgive me for this, for killing our son?

“Niente?” Citlali said. “Atl awaits your answer, as do I.”

In the mists, his son standing in his way, barring the entrance to the path…

Strangely, there were no tears, even though the sorrow seemed to press on his shoulders as if he bore the Teocalli Axat itself there. His spine bowed under the weight. He could barely lift his head, and his voice was as faint as the voice of the stars.

There is no certainty that you can succeed now, even if you sacrifice Atl. The path has grown faint and difficult to find. It could all be wasted…

“I am Nahual,” Niente said. “I see the way.” He looked at his son, wondering if Atl could see the bleak despair in his face. “I’m sorry, Atl.”

Atl looked away, as if there might be an answer written in the clouds above them.

“Then tonight, under Axat’s gaze, the two of you will settle this, so that I can make my decision as Tecuhtli,” Citlali declared. He rose from his nest of cushions. Tototl and the other High Warriors snapped to attention. “Go, and prepare yourselves,” Citlali told them.

“Taat, I don’t want this.”

“Then you should have considered what going to Tecuhtli Citlali a second time would mean,” Niente told Atl. “Didn’t you see that in the scrying bowl?” It was difficult to keep the concern and irritation from his voice.

The sun was setting in the west behind the army, sending golden shafts of light down on the encampment. The warmth was a mockery. Niente sat cross-legged in front of his tent, his spell-staff laid across his lap. The warriors pretended to ignore the two; the other nahualli had vanished; he’d seen none of them since the sun had started to fall. They would be waiting to see how this ended, and where it might leave them.

The moon would rise soon. Axat’s Eye.

“I’m not mistaken about what I saw, Taat,” Atl insisted. “The signs and portents were terrible for the path you’ve set us on. I saw the banner of the red eagle trampled on the ground. I saw hundreds of dead warriors. I saw you, Taat; I saw you dead as well.” He was shaking his head, his nostrils flaring with emotion. “I saw it. There was no mistake. What Axat showed me couldn’t have been victory.”

“And down your path?” Niente asked.

“That way has become clouded,” he admitted, “and it has become more uncertain each day we move forward. But the first time, I saw it clearly: with the army split, with speed, we reached the great city before an army coming from the east could help them. I saw our banners above their towers.”

Niente nodded. Yes, he does see true… “And afterward,” he asked his son. “What did you see beyond that? What did you see when that eastern army came to Nessantico?”

Atl shook his head. “The mists were confusing there. I saw many possibilities, and many shadows. But I’m certain at least some of them would lead to victory as well.”

They do, some of them, though nearly all are still grim and deadly for us. Yet the path I saw… Niente sighed. “Atl, my son, my beloved…” He took a long breath. “You have seen truly.”

Atl took a step back, his hand slicing air. “You admit that? Then you’ll give up the band of the Nahual and the bowl? We can go to Tecuhtli Citlali and tell him that we’ve reached agreement?”

“No,” Niente answered. “Not yet, anyway. You see correctly but you don’t see far enough. No, listen to me and be silent-this is something I will say only to you and I’ll deny having said it if you repeat it. You’re right, Atl. The path I’ve put us on will probably not lead to victory in Nessantico.”

Atl blinked, stunned. His mouth hung open like a fish gasping for air. “I… I don’t understand. How… If that’s true, why… why would you give the Tecuhtli this advice?”

“Because Axat has let me see further. Atl, if we were to take Nessantico, then the full fury of the Easterners will fall on us. It won’t be enough for them to crush us here-they will pursue us back to our homes in the west, and they won’t rest until Tlaxcala lies as tumbled stones in Lake Ixtapatl, a mirror of Nessantico. There is no peace in that future, there is only death and more death, ruin and more ruin. A temporary victory is no victory at all, Atl.”

“So you would have us defeated-because in the mists you believe you see more war?” Atl scowled. “That makes no sense. I know Axat’s visions, Taat, and I know that the further you go from now, the more paths there are and it becomes less clear where they lead. How do you know that you have seen correctly? There must be other ways. This dire future of yours can’t be the only outcome.”

“No. There are worse… And there may be better, yes, but the way to them is dark to me. What I have seen is the most likely outcome.”