The archipelagos radiated nothing loudly, the noise of existence seemed to smother the air, down and heavy. Apprehension, a curdled heart thumps behind the lungs like some fetal sea creature. An albatross clutches a snake in it's beak, it squirms in the air to try and bite the bird but can't quite reach. The conquistador wiped his brow and lead his men up from the beach along a rocky path. As the thin legs of the horses struggled to find footing on the dirt and the stones he looked up at the cliff. A sheer face where nothing could grow. The path lead up through boulders and followed the line of the rising sun as the Spanish explorers ventured deeper into the new country, the sounds of the forest waking lay ahead of them with all it's new strangeness.
The horses drank from a stream that ran through a cluster of trees just on the edge of the plain. Though on the horizon a great desert stretched. The two leaders of the expedition talked amongst each other and decided to send out a group of the men to forage for food. These men went out into the wilderness and weren't seen from again. Still they went out towards the desert. A holy man and a duke. Soldiers rode on horseback dressed finely, an open-top cart that carried the sick was pulled by two great stallions behind the troupe. Behind that was a cannon tugged by a mule, half blind and with it's neck wrapped with a red scarf. The parade crossed the plains, the tough grass seemed to grow like dreaded hair, bunched up amongst weeds and the crumbling droppings of some indigenous animal. The desert waited, a void made of sand and stone.
Piles of rock through the dirt, the sides smooth with the sand blowing on the hot breeze. The scouts appeared above the heat haze cantering seemingly in the sky. They said that the desert seemed to go on with no signs of natives. The duke nodded at the priest and gave the order for the men to advance. Riding steadily towards the dunes some soldiers began to shed the heavy armour they each wore, steel breast-plates that glinting in the sun, hot as cooking pots. When they reached a cliff face the men rested the horses in the shade and smoked cigars. The priest stood in the sun, rubbing a glove through his grey hair as he surveyed the wall. He ordered a boy to climb up the rock and watched the skinny lad begin to make his way upward. The soldiers went quiet as the boy got higher and higher off the ground, grasping with his bare hands at the dry, sandy lumps that stuck out from the face. As he went up the duke walked over by the priest and clicked his teeth. They spoke about the horses being pulled up the face by ropes when the boy fell. Tumbling down, quickly, his limbs flailing about like that of a doll til he landed, sprawled on the rocks, his expressionless face gazing at the cloudless sky as if nothing had happened. One of the soldiers went over to the body and took him over towards the sand. The soldier started digging with his breast-plate and the boy was put to rest with a prayer given by the priest. They left behind the unmarked grave and set about trying to find a way out of the desert.
They made small fires at night and sat about them quietly, listening to the sounds of far off coyotes and the shrieking of nocturnal birds. When morning came it was found that a few of the men had abandoned the conquistadors, their tracks leading east. The duke ordered a few of his men to hunt them down. With the horses thirsty they set off, following the rocks until they came across a steep path that lead to more wilderness. Just a few miles away they could see a large village amongst some scratchy trees, behind that were stretches of dirt and grassland leading towards blue mountains. The duke and the priest watched as distant figures approached. The warriors were dressed in pelts that streamed behind them as they ran across the terrain, each carried a heavy club studded in sharp flint. The conquistadors began to load the long rifles. A lot were unfamiliar with firearms so many of the first round of shots went wide. The air was thick with smoke and when it cleared the duke saw that they had only hit a few of the advancing warriors. One or two had begun to retreat and the duke ordered a charge. The horses thundered forward, swords shone white in the air as the soldiers readied themselves for the first encounter with the countries people. Quite a few of the warriors went down at this first charge, clutching at fatal wounds that dripped bloody viscera onto the dirt. A warrior had managed an attack, his club breaking the muzzle off a horse's skull. The rider had his ribs broken and the warrior was about to set upon him but was shot through the chest. They chased down the remaining warriors and advanced towards the village, the injured soldier slouching on the mule. Almost a hundred villagers stood in the centre of the town around a statue of one of their Gods. The leader of the village stepped forward, taller than the rest. He began to speak but the priest shot him. The soldiers all opened fire again, this time every shot hit somebody. Some villagers ran, some attacked, some just stood. After an hour the only people left alive in the village were the conquistadors. Bodies were left where they had fallen and the streets were red with blood. The soldiers raided the village and each now had some kind of native jewelry or precious thing. Some had decorated themselves with feathers from exotic birds or painted themselves in blood that was already beginning to turn brown and harden in the sun. The duke and the priest sat in what had been a temple and ordered some of the boys to bring food which they ate and discussed what they would do next.
The soldiers rode towards the mountains. A few had been killed at the village and their horses were now lead at the rear of the company. Some coyotes ran in the distance. The whole place reminded the duke of home in some way, though he wasn't sure why. It seemed there was some kind of representation of Barcelona hidden in the landscape that only he could see, the stones could be buildings, the animals as the people. He wasn't sure where the natives fit in his metaphor. As the mountains loomed closer the soldiers set up camp by a murky pond amidst a group of trees. They drank the water and went about cooking the little food they had left with some of the soldiers leaving to hunt. The duke and the priest discussed travelling through mountains and as the sun was beginning to dip red on the horizon the hunters returned with a few monkeys and a tapir. The skins were saved and worn by some of the soldiers as they laughed and talked amongst themselves about the battle at the village. A horse galloped in the darkness. It was a soldier from the party that had been sent out that morning to hunt for the deserters. He told the conquistador's that they had traveled across the desert when they were attacked by native warriors. He had only escaped by sheer luck. Greeted warmly, the survivor was sat by the biggest fire and passed one of the last bottles of rum. Out in the darkness waited Aztecs, the tiny spots of the fire reflecting wetly in their eyes. They quietly stalked across the plain, the grass wetting up to the ankles. As the soldiers got drunk and began to sleep the warriors quickly made there way up towards the pond, crawling low on all fours as if gathering crops. They looked down at the strangely dressed men, silently stepping between them as they dreamt of home. Clubs struck the sleeping heads of the soldiers, again and again before the night watch began to shout and fire the long rifles. The back of a warrior's head exploded beneath a feather head-dress as if a flower had suddenly blossomed from his scalp, he fell onto a soldier. In the confusion as the soldiers woke, the warriors ran back out into the black night as quickly as they had arrived.
They didn't sleep for the rest of the night and when the sun began to rise they travelled towards the mountains. Almost a quarter of the people they had sailed with across the ocean were now dead or missing. The cart for the sick broke a wheel and it was decided that the men would ride. Butchered soldiers jerked around on the saddles like marionettes. One had a swollen face and loose teeth, his arms shaking as he clutched at the horses neck that was slippery with sweat in the morning sun. The priest rode alongside a captain that had needed an arm amputated. Flies buzzed around him, causing the horse to keep flicking it's head regular. The two men had a conversation about suffering, the captain asked about the difference between life and hell. The priest didn't believe in hell. The duke was riding a little ahead of the conquistador's, two rifles strapped to each thigh and a steel saber fastened on his back. He smoked a cigar and watched the land around him, studying it in intense detail for any sign of Aztecs. Just as the sun reached it's highest point in the sky the conquistador's came across a little hut made from hay and stone. Out from the door ran a man, showing his hands. He could speak Spanish and told them there was a man like themselves over in the settlement at the top of one of the mountains. The priest rode up and asked the man if he was a Christian and the man shook his head. The priest asked him if he wanted to be baptised and the man shook his head. The priest ordered some soldiers to raid the house and they brought out his wife and his sons, none of them spoke Spanish. Flies buzzed around the soldiers, a black cloud. Open wounds, jewellery, dried blood, dull armour sagging on the bodies. Tired faces raw with sunburn watched the duke and the priest discuss what they would do with the family, the soldiers had become disinterested in the decision. A soldier wearing a coyote's pelt said they should take them as slaves. The one-armed captain agreed and ordered a few soldiers to tie up the family. The Aztec man began to shout, though the priest hushed him. He told him that Christians couldn't be taken as slaves and that if he agreed to be baptised alongside his family that they could go forth and spread the word of the one true god. The man agreed and they were baptised. Then his wife was taken and the conquistador's rode away.
They rode the horses until one of the weaker one's collapsed into the grass. It was ordered that a fire be set up and that the horse would be eaten. The duke went for a walk as the men began to collect wood, watching the horizon with bloodshot eyes beneath his thick brow. His moustache was still well kept though stubble coloured his face slate. Off by a rocky plateau fringed in weeds was a little cave which the duke walked up to. Inside a huge snake rested in the shade. A fat green body curled around itself like an intestine, with no head to be seen. The duke was fascinated. Off in the distance rain clouds gathered by the mountains.
The horse meat was good, it gave everyone a slight lift in spirits just as the rain began to fall. The woman they had taken was crouched in the dirt gnawing on a piece of gristle. She was covered in bruises. The conquistador's marched on towards the mountain and the rain passed. Hooves sank into mud, slowing down the troupe that were each nodding occasionally as sleep began to creep. But the duke kept the pace with the priest next to him. They talked about the journey across the ocean, they had lost a few of the ships one night. They sank into the waves and the men bobbed up and down before disappearing themselves. Some of the greatest men in all of Spain had drowned and the duke watched from the deck whilst the priest was read to in his cabin by one of the boys he had brought along. He had promised to teach them of Christianity and of the new country so that they could become powerful men. One of his boys rode up alongside the leaders of the party and said one of the men had died whilst riding. They piled rocks on the body quickly and rode on.
They managed to rest during the night and the morning after the adventurers began to ascend the first of the mountains. Cactus grew amongst the crags that scarred the ground. A few goats were killed and carried on the back of horses although the flies set to them straight away. The captain's horse lost it's footing and they both slid on the pebbles down the mountain. Once they had come to a stop the captain left his horse struggling on the ground and walked back up towards the soldiers. He took a dead man's horse and pushed it forward. He talked to the man riding the stallion pulling the cannon, the animal that had been dragging it before and it's rider were dead. The soldier on the stallion was young, no scars or hair on his face besides the thin brows above his large eyes. He was from Portugal and had joined the army to send the money back home to his family. The Portugese soldier talked to the captain about the woman they had taken and then they both laughed. On they went, further and further until they came across a path that lead to the settlement and they were all told to stop on a ridge overlooking the settlement. Rows of houses made of stone and straw, people making their way down the dusty roads. The Portugese soldier was ordered to set up the cannon on a hill and it opened fire. Air shook at the explosion, it sent the huge cannon bouncing backwards as the blast echoed across the mountains. The shot thundered through the air and went through several buildings before resting in a shallow crater. Whilst the townspeople looked on in fear and the screaming began to start the conquistador's horses galloped across the rocks and pebbles with the duke leading the entire brigade, save the cannon, screaming curses into the thin air until his eyes began to bulge. Aztecs suddenly seemed to surround them, they had emerged from the land and grasped weapons made from rock and wood. An ambush. A furious melee began as the conquistador's were forced to ride in a huge circle, the soldiers slashing and shooting from horseback as a hundred or so warriors began to tighten the loop. As the Spaniards were forced into a tight group, more people arrived from the town to fight. Faces contorted into masks of hate, pure violence.
The one armed captain was one of the first to fall, his shin smashed with a hammer causing him to tumble to the floor where he was strangled. Several more were killed, although the conquistador's were still doing their own share of killing. A thin man wearing an eagle around his neck leapt from behind a cactus and grabbed the woman they'd kidnapped, he picked her up and dodged between the charging horses until they were away from the murdering. Steel into skin, the sound of clubs smacking the thin ribs of horses, gunpowder and blood, the duke continued to scream curses as he went wild, leaping from his horse as it died beneath him and continuing fighting. He watched an old man, maybe eighty years old, through the battle. Eyes met. The duke watched the spear part through the crowd of Aztecs before him and looked as it went into his belly, pushing him backwards a few steps. Behind him the horses continued running and he stumbled into the hooves that smashed into the dirt over and over again.
The conquistador's won in the end. Just forty men remained, sat in the sun with their bodies glistening in the wet blood. Every man now had tattoos from gunpowder. The priest stood first and went over to what remained of the duke and made the mark of the cross on his forehead. He blessed him and then the conquistadors and townspeople that had died in the battle. None of the sick remained, the boys either. After they had smoked their cigars the soldiers went into the town and rested in a garden. A few of the soldiers began to take a nap around a statue of Quetzalcoatl, others decided to wash and eat.
As the evening light faded a few of the soldiers began to patrol the streets. The town's inhabitants who hadn't died in the afternoon had ran away, leaving the buildings quiet except for the odd chicken. The priest entered a shrine to one of the gods. On the small altar was the body of a jaguar, the priest inspected it's face closely. He hadn't seen a big cat before. Heaving it off the altar he took it back to the camp to roast on one of the fires when he noticed a strange brightness. Looking up into the sky he saw that there were two moons. One was full and almost as bright as the sun, it seemed to fall from the night and down towards the mountain. The priest began to quicken his pace back towards the garden with the jaguar still draped over his shoulder. Off in the distance he could hear the shouts of soldiers. The new moon floated through the air and came to rest just on top of one of the cliffs further up the mountain. Ice melted away from the strange orb as the thing slowly dimmed into the night. When the priest reached the garden all of the soldiers were talking amongst themselves. The priest began to speak and told them all that this was the second coming of Christ. The soldiers would immediately march up the mountain to greet the son of god. And so, they did.
Midnight. The conquistador's slowly made their way up the mountain path, staggering. Those who couldn't walk had been left in the camp with the promise that Christ would heal them. The priest told them all that they were the chosen soldiers of God himself and that they would fight at the end of the world on his behalf and become saints. Hands numb, beards fringed with dried blood and ice, the remaining conquistadors came to the rocky outcrop. There was a metallic boat that flashed strange lights in each window. The priest walked towards it with his arms outstretched, thanking God for answering the prayers of mankind and returning Christ to earth. A door opened beneath the ship and out poured it's pilot. It resembled a marsh although it's skin was like that of a jellyfish trapped in a net of lizard scales. Small bubbles appeared here and there with silvery ropes attaching them to boxes embedded in it's body. Out from the front of the creature a split opened, flashing yellow lights in the priest's face. It made his brain feel as if it was throbbing, his head seemed as if fingernails were dragging along it's interior. The thing began to speak the language of the Aztecs. The priest couldn't understand it. An arm appeared from the thing and carefully picked up the man of god. It pulled him towards it, as if inspecting him. A few of the soldiers were beginning to run down the mountain at this point. The men who had stayed began to walk towards the pilot of the strange ship, smiling, arms spread in a joyous welcome as they felt the warmth.
The men watched the priest bathing in the light of the thing before being put down gently. The priest had tears in his eyes. He told the men that he thinks they should board the ship by climbing onto the thing. Once the last man had clambered onto the soft surface, the thing gave a gentle shudder as it began to retract back into the ship. One by one they went up into the shadow of the door and it closed behind them.
The men sat in the darkness, still smiling to themselves. The priest told them that they were about to travel up in the air, that the boat could fly like a bird. The men all nodded and thanked God as the craft took off and flew away from Earth, after a few minutes a small window opened up and they could see the planet as a sphere set against the backdrop of the night sky. The view of Earth shrank and they could see more of the solar system, planets and stars. A planet with rings. And then Earth again, a lot further away this time with the sun shrinking smaller and smaller. All of this view took on a tint of blue and red, space seemed to fall away like pail of black water before returning back to normal. None of the conquistador's had seen space like this before. Huge orange clouds set against a backdrop of lights like the king's banquet table at Christmas. The priest quoted passages of the bible about heaven. They saw another planet against a small, red sun.
The liquid flesh disembarked on the planets surface, they had landed in an arid green desert. The priest said that they were to go forth into this new land and take what they felt they were worth. The conquistador's set off walking across sand the colour of ivy, singing hymns and looking out at the landscape around them. Off in the distance was a rock formation made from alabaster, refracting the light spectacularly around it like a halo. When the men neared they could see other people far away, running across the ground. They realized the men must be massive for the amount of ground they were covering, the Portugese soldier asked if they were angels. One of the older soldiers fell to his knees, he prayed with bruised fists. He sang hosanna and the natives of the planet arrived. Twice as tall as a man, they looked a little like people but the angles didn't seem to match. Each of the giants had dark brown eyes like those of a horse, fringed with soot. They wore strange padded loin cloths that were held up by leather breeches, decorated with amulets and glittering shells. On their backs they each carried long swords. They began speaking to the conquistador's in booming voices that each of the soldier's could feel vibrating their innards. It was the language of the Aztecs. The priest began speaking Spanish, then Latin. He was attempting to welcome them and asking them to join them in prayer. The soldier singing hosanna ran towards one of the giant men. The giant patted the mans head and grinned at the other giants. Speaking softly amongst each other, they decided to take the conquistadors to the city. Off they marched, some of the soldiers choosing to try and hold hands with the giants as if they were children reaching for the hand of a parent. The city was magnificent, spires that reached up toward the sky that shimmered from the alabaster monuments placed on pedestals that surrounded the city. The buildings were huge, mausoleum like in shape made from smooth black marble. In the centre of the city was a large pyramid made from five concentric cubes, with a staircase set on each face. As the giants lead the conquistador's through the city a horn was sounded. A flat low hum echoed through the streets bringing out the giants. They skipped merrily down the roads throwing bright ochre dust into the air that painted the streets and buildings a rich reddy brown that fell as deep as snow by the time the conquistadors were lead through the main archway towards the pyramid. A few of the soldiers talked amongst themselves about whether or not that the giants were the angels of god or maybe demons. The priest overheard them and had turned, angry. He was about to deliver a furious speech about belief when each man was lifted up like a newborn, each pointed towards the top of the pyramid. The men were arranged into a row and began to be carried up the steps of the pyramid whilst the giants chanted below. The prayers of giants boomed across the landscape as if it was the end of the world. At the front of the line the priest called back to his flock to be at peace with what destiny that God had chosen for them and to accept it as his son had done hundreds of years before. Instead the Portugese soldier had managed to grasp the handle of his sword and swung it in an arc that finished in the side of the head of one of the giants that had been carrying him. Down the pyramid they both tumbled as more of the soldiers started to struggle in the hands that clutched them about the ribs. The priest ordered the conquistadors to surrender until he was brought to the top of the pyramid. He saw a churning mass of grey flesh that tumbled in over itself as some arborescent form took shape. He sang hallelujah to his lord over the chanting and screaming behind him as the conquistadors now made their way down the pyramid, jumping down the steps into the ongoing fight against the giants. A limb reached out from the grey mass and clutched the priest by the head as if a lobster was wrapped around an egg. Thin legs brushed against the mans face before pushing through the skin, all the while he still prayed of his love for God.
All of the men were dead except one. He was taken out of the city towards a small village where normal sized people lived. Aztec, Toltec, Mayan, Teotihuacan, Olmec. Human. They lived side by side and spoke the language of the giants. They showed the wounded soldier to a quiet room which he rested, visited daily by healers until he was well again. He was put to work in the fields outside the village and given a hut with a single room. After a few months of living there he had been married to a Olmec woman and had promised to himself he would start a family. But as he passed his scimitar through rows upon rows of something that looked like barley, he thought about home. He would look into the strange sky at night and wonder where Spain was, sometimes thinking he recognized constellations that the sailors had taught him back when they sailed on the Atlantic. But they didn't quite match. He would never see his home again. He had stopped praying to God.
