Aztec Immortals The Rise of an Empire

After leaving the Huastecs' village, the group pressed south for two more hurried days.

The rainforest had long since vanished, replaced by sparse mountain woodlands. The sky grew wide and clear, and the roads became increasingly populated. The land was fertile and easy to farm, with rudimentary fields spread along both sides of the river.

At midday on this particular day, Xiulote spotted a small lake near a branch of the Tampan River. In the center of that lake was a floating island that resembled farmland atop the water.

A ring-shaped fence supported and anchored the edges of the floating fields, half-submerged below the waterline. The center of the floating island was crisscrossed by orderly canals, cutting the place into small, evenly sized plots. Growing densely on the island's farmland were the three main crops of corn, squash, and beans, alongside chili peppers, sunflowers, and precious herbs.

"This is the first chinampa we've seen on our journey home." Aoloxi finally smiled as he gazed upon the lake's farmland. "We've finally returned to the lands of the Mexica city-states. Tonight, we can sleep without worry. Not far ahead lies the city-state of Metztitlán. Xiulote, you can go into the central marketplace with Tetlsi and pick out a few trinkets that catch your eye."

Indeed, after traveling a bit farther, Xiulote soon saw a city built in a Mesoamerican style rising near the river.

Encircling it was a four- or five-meter-high wall of packed earth and stone—strong enough in a medieval sense. Dark red designs adorned the walls. Beyond them, one's gaze was immediately drawn to the Aztecs' distinctive twin-step pyramid, dozens of meTetlsi high, which simultaneously honored Tlaloc, the rain god who governed agriculture, and Huitzilopochtli, their guardian deity.

It was still afternoon, and the city gates stood open as villagers poured out to return home. Most of them were bare-chested, wearing only a loincloth around their waists, carrying newly purchased stone tools and pottery. A few clutched cotton cloth two people in length—hugging it tightly in a hurried stride.

The city's warriors wore white or yellow sleeveless shirts over loincloths or leather skirts, bearing small shields and war clubs on their backs. They gathered in groups of three or five, talking about something. The wind carried snatches of their conversation, and Xiulote faintly caught words like "legions," "war," and "the Otomi."

A short distance away, several nobles and priests sat upon litTetlsi carried by slaves, traveling at a measured pace. Commoners and warriors alike cleared a path for them.

Taking note of their vibrant cloaks and tall feathered crowns, Xiulote also noticed the flowers and herbs woven into the litTetlsi. He guessed they had just returned from a pleasant outing to some noble's garden.

The young man gave a small smile. In the Aztec—more precisely, the Mexica—social structure, a person's standing was obvious at first glance: the more clothing you wore, the higher your status, and the more colorful it was, the greater people's esteem.

The company set up camp outside the north gate. Aoloxi left a few warriors behind to watch the prisoners and exchanged a few words with the guards at the gate. The Jaguar Warrior then led the group into the city; before long, the warriors dispersed, each off to seek his own entertainment.

As they passed through the entrance, one of the gate guards caught sight of the obsidian necklace at Xiulote's throat, revealing a flicker of surprise and reverence mingled in his expression.

The first thing Xiulote noticed upon entering was still the temple atop the pyramid. It was the city's center, for religious authority ruled the city-state.

Beneath the temple lay the central plaza, spanning a thousand square meTetlsi. During festivals, it served as the site for rituals; on ordinary days, it became the marketplace—a scene that reminded Xiulote of an old hometown farmers' fair.

Around the perimeter of that market were stalls belonging to peasants and townsfolk, hawking a dazzling variety of goods. Farmers brought turkeys, dogs, rabbits, tortillas, black bean paste, squash, chili peppers, sunflower seeds, and last year's avocados.

The city's potTetlsi sold various everyday ceramic wares, and some also offered stone farm tools on the side.

Stopping at one stall, Xiulote spent two cacao beans on a handful of sunflower seeds. Munching as he wandered, he was followed closely by Tetlsi, who was also glancing about in all directions.

A single turkey cost about eighty cacao beans. A tortilla went for three cacao beans; black beans and squash were roughly the same price. A soup-cooking ceramic pot ran around a hundred cacao beans.

He watched as a farmer swapped a turkey, some tortillas, and an assortment of avocados and cactus tubers in exchange for a single large ceramic pot from a local potter—happily walking away with his newly acquired vessel. Neither the farmer nor the potter had much actual cacao currency. In fact, most trading in this market took the form of barter.

Farther in, local artisans displayed a broad range of obsidian items. So many carvings—warriors, animals, or divine symbols—glittered before Xiulote's eyes.

He looked around, wanting to choose a warrior figurine for the father of his current life, but the stylized, almost abstract faces on each piece left him feeling something was off. So he and Tetlsi strolled deeper into the marketplace.

Past a group of warriors standing guard at a boundary line, Xiulote was taken aback by the sight of the bustling inner market.

The lead warrior, wearing a pointed cap, wore a stern, hardened expression. He shot Xiulote a sharp look, then became fixated on the obsidian necklace around the young man's neck for a moment. Without saying anything, he turned back to face the crowd.

In the inner market, metals gleamed everywhere. Xiulote saw stall after stall—some simple, some elaborate—displaying silver and gold ornaments.

The street teemed with nobility in bright robes, decked out in gold and silver, as well as priests adorned with necklaces and tall feather headdresses.

Rounding a corner, Xiulote stared in shock at Aoloxi. The imposing Jaguar Warrior had paused at a finely furnished stall and was leisurely blowing puffs of smoke—clutching a lit cigar in his fingers. A small circle of people around him shared in this moment of mellow contentment.

Stepping closer, Xiulote noticed that the "cigar" was wrapped in leaves, filled with dried tobacco mixed with unknown herbs and spices.

When he turned to look at the shop owner, he was doubly stunned: the man's head was twice Xiulote's length, elegantly arching backward from the forehead into an elongated skull, crowned by high-standing feathers and dangling silver ornaments. He looked like some kind of alien visitor.

Xiulote jumped back a step, then realized the shop owner had a comfortably round face and a sincerely friendly smile.

"Greetings, young priest." The round-faced "alien" gave a swift glance at Xiulote's obsidian necklace and smiled even more warmly.

"As you can see, I have some newly arrived divine smoke from the distant eastern rainforest—a lingering sigh left by the gods among mortals. Just one small stick of it can grant you a quarter hour of communion with the deities, letting you taste the wonders of the divine realm."

With that, the "alien" produced a small cloth bag the size of his palm. "As a meeting gift, you can have this entire bag for just a tiny gold ornament, or a length of cotton two people long, or five hundred cacao beans."

"You sly Maya!" Xiulote heard the Jaguar Warrior's trademark snarl before he could respond. "I ought to smash your deformed skull with my obsidian club! This is my student Xiulote, and you dare trick him! Two people's worth of cotton cloth could buy five sacks of that inferior stuff!"

"Oh, Aoloxi, so this is your student." The alien neither flinched nor grew angry; he just chuckled. "Let me introduce myself. I am Ticalo, a traveling pochteca hailing from the far eastern rainforest city-state of Tutul Xiu. Our elongated heads are a sign of divine heritage. We Maya nobles are the descendants of the gods, born with an innate sense of elegance and kindness—and forever your Az…ahem, Mexica allies."

"Damn it, call me Mexica, not Aztec!" Aoloxi huffed indignantly.

"Very well, honorable Mexica Jaguar Warrior. Now, about that cotton cloth and cacao beans you owe me—when might I expect repayment?" At these words, Xiulote noticed his teacher lapse into sudden silence.

"Oh, by the way," Maya merchant Ticalo continued, winking at Xiulote, "you can buy five sacks of these fine cigars from me right now for five hundred cacao beans. Believe me, the priests love this flavor."

Xiulote was curious about the earliest Maya cigars and how they might taste, but Aoloxi was firmly opposed. "If you try divine smoke too soon, the gods will drain your life force, weakening the warrior's body."

Almost forcibly, the Jaguar Warrior tucked Xiulote under his arm and led him away from the Maya stall.

"All Maya nobles are a bunch of trouble," Aoloxi grumbled as they walked. "They're as crafty as monkeys and as frail as sloths, they dress like tiny mountain sparrows, yet they're all silver-tongued. Their math is second to none, and before you know it, you end up in their debt. If it came down to a real fight on the battlefield, I could handle ten of them at once!"

Xiulote almost wanted to laugh but didn't dare show it. He simply glanced back at the tall, long-headed Maya merchant standing like a crane amid chickens.

In his previous life, Xiulote had once traveled to Cancún, watched a supposed "Maya" show in a large theme park, and driven out to admire the spectacular pyramid of Chichén Itzá. Those hours on a plane and in a car felt like another world away now.

Half a year of grueling progress through the rainforest on foot, or a perilous journey by dugout canoe at sea—it made revisiting Chichén Itzá seem like a dream that might never be fulfilled.

"What splendor and beauty must the many Maya city-states possess right now? If we hold Yucatán, we can reach the Caribbean islands' tribes early and the spot where Europeans land from afar." Once again, the young man's thoughts strayed into long-term possibilities.

"Perhaps, when I return to Chichén Itzá one day, I won't be traveling alone," he mused, glancing up at Aoloxi and the fierce Jaguar Warrior's imposing jaguar helmet. The towering Aztec pyramid loomed solemnly in the background.

Unexpectedly, a new feeling—a conqueror's desire—began to kindle deep within the Mexica youth's chest: the stirrings of a warrior's heart.

"Yes, the Mexica warriors will use their weapons to face the known world—and conquer whatever unknown future lies beyond!"