Chapter 21B: Year 1, Day 248 – Flight-Alpha Tlulipechua

Flying through the Chiuxatli section of the Hedron and breathing in the winds that gamboled playfully around the spires, Tlulipechua was struck by intense saudade. There was little to complain about when it came to the Caldera, for the weather was excellent, the winds fair, the soil rich, and the cliffs protected, and yet it was not Chixuatlan. The colors were a stern blue-grey, rather than the fond shades of red sandstone, and the Hedron got it almost exactly right. Taelah had even spent time making sure the varieties and scents mimicked those of his native land.

Yet, it still wasn’t home.

Tlulipechua angled himself back through the portal to emerge into the Caldera, leaving the achingly nostalgic surrounds of the Hedron behind. Their section alone was stunningly large, but nowhere near the size needed for their whole population. Instead he’d prioritized families with young ones, so that fledglings might grow up in something close to their proper homeland. Someday, the Chiuxatli would take back what was theirs.

Or rather, if he was to be honest with himself, Blue would do so. For all that some of his people had learned the secrets of stellar Affinity mana, which was immune to the taint of depletion, there were none who could fully purge it like the Power himself. With the Fortress mobile, he had hoped that beginning the process would have been one of Blue’s first priorities, even though the Bargain had never included such a thing.

He hadn’t done so yet, but Tlulipechua did not permit himself to feel despair. Blue had not done much for anyone for some time, not since his Voice had been killed, so the inaction did not represent any particular policy on Blue’s part. All he needed was patience.

The fact that his Voice had returned was out of all reason and expectation. A fifth-tier healer might be able to reverse death, should they reach someone within a few minutes, while the body was still warm. There was certainly nobody who could revive someone a full year later, and yet Shayma had returned.

She had returned as a [Hero].

That was a terrifying bit of information. There had been few [Hero] Classes in the annals of Chiuxatli history, and all of them had been unstoppable forces of nature. No Class name was without meaning, and a [Hero] was a wonder and a danger in equal measure, doing the impossible and striding like a titan through the world.

It was with some trepidation that he found himself summoned to meet her again. It was good that she was back, and things had once again begun to move, yet he found himself still shaken by very knowledge of it. A Power and a [Hero] together were fit to challenge the very gods.

The Voice could have met him inside the Hedron, as the entire place was Blue’s territory and the Chiuxatli were merely caretakers, but she had not. In fact, he had yet to meet her directly after the return, being told only by Queen Iniri and by a subtle undercurrent in the taste of the air that marked a change in Blue’s demeanor. The slight bite of winter, still there no matter the seasons, had changed into a promise of spring, even though warmer months were not expected for some time.

He landed on the warm wood of Alpha’s Eyrie, talons gripping the planks as he made his way toward the shaded balcony where he preferred to conduct business. The Flight-Mother was already there, and he waved her down before she could even begin to rise. The Caldera had actually been quite kind to her aging bones, but they were still aging and he didn’t need her to show him any deference. Especially not in private.

“Has Voice Shayma arrived?” He flashed to the Flight-Mother’s escorts, and they signaled negative after a few moments of relaying the question and answer throughout the Eyrie.

“Do you know what this is about?” The Flight-Mother inquired, shading ever so slightly red.

“I suspect it has to do with her return. Now that Blue has his Voice back, perhaps he is in a better mood. Perhaps he even has a response for me.” He was confident that Blue had no reason or desire to take him or the Chiuxatli at large to task. The few groups of malcontents or just wrong-minded individuals that attempted to encroach upon the Village had been rather severely dealt with by the dragons that dwelt nearby, and he’d never shown any interest in the way Tlulipechua ran his own people.

The Flight-Mother signaled acknowledgement, settling back to wait. Shayma arrived soon afterward, preceded by a ripple of signaled color, using Chiuxatli form rather than her own fox-kin one. Tlulipechua was grateful for the consideration. While he could use sound to communicate, it lacked a certain nuance, and the Flight-Mother was far less practiced.

“Welcome, Voice Shayma,” he signaled, lowering his crest slightly in respect. “I am glad to see you back among the living.” Her presence was accompanied by a sun-bright churn of mana. For a moment he thought it was part of her [Hero] class before noticing it centered itself upon her left hand, some new and potent magical item that Blue had surely gifted her to keep her safe. Though, perhaps potent was an understatement. There was enough power there to melt his beak off. Powers surely did not do things by halves.

“I’m glad to be back,” Shayma replied in cheerful greens and blues. “A year is a long time to be away, and I’m still catching up. I probably would have been by earlier, but you were doing such a good job and there were some emergencies to deal with.”

“I take it this is not a social visit, then?” Tlulipechua pressed, not entirely certain what to make of her mood. Vivacious cheer was not something he associated with matters of state, but dealing with Blue and his Voice was entirely unlike dealing with other individuals of great power and responsibility. Sometimes they were so profound that it was difficult to breathe, other times, they acted as if they were common as air.

“Not for the most part,” Shayma admitted, indicating the perch-seats. The propriety of who should be seated first was difficult to parse, but if Shayma wasn’t worried, he wouldn’t let it weigh on his mind. “First of all, Blue does want to officially commend you for the excellent job you’re doing with the Fortress. The sections that you’ve put together so far are amazing.”

“Thank you,” Tlulipechua said. The work had been extremely interesting so far, especially since there was very little that Blue couldn’t provide when designing each area. Discussions with his greatest designers and artificers had been long and detailed, and though he was no expert in everything, he had scouted ahead as a leader should. He had even had a brief and terrifying talk with The Silver Woe herself, prior to the creation of the dragon chamber. It was satisfying to have Blue recognize the effort his people had put into it.

“Second, Blue is taking a more proactive stance when it comes to blightbeasts. He’s not confident in taking on the mage-kings themselves, but he is sending me to deal with some incursions here on the surface and the Underneath. That’s why he’s taking the Fortress south, to address the blighted area in Ir, and then east to see Chiuxatlan. The wall of shadows should protect Tarnil.”

Tlulipechua had to exercise iron control to keep his plumage color steady. The Flight-Mother didn’t bother, flashing vividly in shades of excitement and drawing an amused repetition of agreement from Shayma. He had not even needed to make a request, official or otherwise, for Blue to move. In that, he had to remind himself that merely surveying the problem was not solving it; Blue could, but in what time frame and at what cost, he did not know.

“I would much desire to see Chiuxatlan again, though by now I know it will have been badly used.” He used more measured shades, letting the Flight-Mother speak for the mood of his people while he spoke for their will. “Convey my deepest gratitude. When should I expect the Hedron to move?”

“It already is,” Shayma told him. “It’s heading south from Orrelin now. I just wanted to give you an official notice. Blue isn’t just wandering around poking at things, he’s going there with intent.” She flashed amusement again. “I don’t think I need to impress you with that, but I felt I should at least officially tell you, and request that you tell us who we might encounter over there. As well as mediate, if it is necessary. He’s trying to be proactive in preventing problems, these days.”

“I would be honored,” Tlulipechua said, mind racing. He flashed a quick set of instructions to his guards, letting them relay the orders outward. In a moment a young page winged in with a map, the trapped winds cycling slowly, and deposited it on the table between them. His crest flickered around the edges before he hastened away, and Tlulipechua didn’t blame him overmuch. As a Chiuxatli, Shayma was an extremely attractive specimen.

“There are a number of other nations in Nicehapoca, though I doubt any have moved in after our evacuation. Chiuxatlan is not greatly enticing to any who cannot fly, and there is of course the great issue of depletion and the blightbeasts.” He traced his talons over the map. “It is unfortunate, but we left in so great a hurry that we could not reinforce our borders. I fear there may have been some spillover, depending on how many came through. The Flight-Mother flickered subdued reassurance to him, and he replied with a thankful green.

“I imagine if they’re dealing with blight on their borders, they won’t be particularly enthusiastic about seeing the Fortress arrive,” Shayma observed. “It’s not easy to scry but it is easy to see.”

“Speaking of scrying, we shall try to get an idea of the disposition of any forces before we reach Nicehapoca. There may be nobody near Chiuxatlan, in which case there would be no need for diplomatic overtures. If there are, I would be glad to introduce you to any of our neighbors. Though, as I am no longer part of the Nicehapoca Compact, my standing is uncertain.”

“You haven’t lost Chiuxatlan,” Shayma disagreed. “You’re simply temporarily displaced.”

“It is kind of you to say so, but we surely cannot execute our responsibilities from half a world away,” he demurred.

“I suppose not,” Shayma said after a moment. “I’m spoiled by the fact that Blue’s always with me, and distance means very little.” Her plumage rippled grey, discarding the topic. “So who are we likely to meet over there?”

“A number of races inhabit Nicehapoca, but if we are arriving from the south, we will be near Xicoatlan. It is primarily inhabited by the Xicoatli, of course, and they are led by Tzicue of the Green. They are natural allies, for our land is not appealing to them and they mostly fancy the spices we grow on the highest peaks of our spires.”

“I admit I have no idea what a Xicoatl is,” Shayma said. Tlulipechua ruffled his crest and flashed an apology; it was easy to forget that despite having the form of one of his subjects, she did not have the knowledge even a barely fledged youngster would.

“They live in the high, icy mountains of southern Nicehapoca,” he told her. “They are fur-maned, scaled folk, with a bewildering set of internal politics. I do not understand it all myself, for that I have been dealing with my counterparts for years, but they are in general surprisingly good-natured. If you are not a Xicoatl, they will take no offense. I would suggest that you not take their form.”

“That is excellent advice,” Shayma told him. “I shall certainly keep that in mind. Neither Blue nor I have any desire to get involved in more internal wrangling.” Her feathers rippled in bright colors of amusement. “I will have to tell you about the Leyn sometime.”

“I can well guess there were some caste issues,” Tlulipechua told her. It had been some time since the Leyn caravans had come to Chiuxatlan, but he still remembered some sudden and confusing changes of authority for no adequately explained reason. The precise mechanism of Leyn caste changes was not something they could physically explain to outsiders, not without invoking senses and sensations no non-Leyn ever had.

“You could say that,” Shayma said, frissions of amusement chasing themselves over her plumage. “Apparently the involvement of a Power is enough to cause significant caste movement.”

“It sounds like you will have to be very careful dealing with Leyn in the future, then,” he replied after a moment. Tlulipechua did not point out that Blue was not just any Power. He was well convinced that Blue was second only to The Silver Woe, and the fact that he had an Affinity of his own suggested that his ties to the fundamentals of magic were, potentially, even deeper than hers.

“Well, we have one contact who is already Summit caste, so I think so long as we deal with him, there won’t be any further issues,” Shayma said. Tlulipechua wondered if he should point out that a Summit caste Leyn was something that happened once a generation at most and could well make a bid to establish his own kingdom. For Leyn, the Summit caste was the same as Chiuxatli and the human-kin fifth tier, and perhaps even rarer than that. But he decided against it; surely they had already taken that into consideration.

“I expect we will not have those troubles with the Xicoatli. The only point of contention may be Tzicue’s low regard for me after being forced to flee, and he is smart enough that he will not press the issue while I am under Blue’s protection.” It galled him to admit it, for even if Chiuxatlan and Xicoatlan were on good terms, that relationship was one built from being equals. He was not that anymore. Even if Chiuxatlan were restored this very moment, it would take time to recover from simply knowing they had been driven out.

“You’ve been good to us,” Shayma told him. “We’ll make sure nobody gives you any trouble.” Her plumage dimmed a moment in introspection. “Within reason, of course.”

“Of course,” Tlulipechua said, of a rather mixed mind about that. It would be nice if he weren’t simply turfed out once Chiuxatlan was cleansed, and was given the opportunity to return in a controlled and staged fashion. “But barring a genuine threat, I would prefer to handle any challenges in my own way. I will not have Blue’s backing forever,” he said, voicing his objections in the most diplomatic way he could.

“Sure, that makes sense,” Shayma said, which was a relief. He hadn’t marked Blue as the sort who would be offended by someone turning down his help, but that was before the Power had annihilated Port Anell and become an effective hermit for a year. Grief could do strange things to people, even when those people were dungeons.

“Oh, and Iniri’s going to get you an invitation to talk with Wright while we’re down there,” Shayma added. “If you want it, of course. He’s fifth-tier too, if it makes a difference.”

“Certainly. Even once this is all over I think it will behoove me to maintain closer relations with Orn than has been the case in the past. Prior to now it has not been considered any place of great importance. It surely has become so now.” Shayma flashed agreement in cheerful oranges and greens.

“That’s an understatement.”