Promo: Quetzalcoatl by Ian Hunter
Today, I'm delighted to welcome author Ian Hunter to Ruins & Reading. We're sharing an intringing excerpt from his new novel, Quetzalcoatl: Time Stones Book II – a riveting historical fantasy story you shouldn't miss. Read on!
Quetzalcoatl: Time Stones Book II is currently on blog tour with Yarde Book Promotions. Find other fascinating posts HERE!
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Quetzalcoatl: Time Stones Book II
Ian Hunter
Excerpt:
“I want you to watch and listen,” Cacamatzin instructed them before the first delegates arrived. “Some of them will be lying. They will appear to be with us when they are not. Watch them closely and tell me who I can trust and who not.”
Tonauac had been frantic over the previous days, sending and receiving a constant stream of messengers from every corner of the lake. From the little he said, negotiations had been delicate and tetchy. The nobles had waivered, demanding first to have the emperor’s consent, before then challenging Cacamatzin’s authority. Finally, it seems Cacamatzin had persuaded, bullied and shamed enough to come around to his way of thinking, and his council was planned for that evening.
“Are we joining?” Jessie asked surprised.
“Yes, but no,” was Cacamatzin’s curious reply, as they entered his council chamber.
They were deep in the heart of the king’s palace, the royal rooms from where Texcoco was governed. It had a secretive air. There were no windows. A long table with plentiful low, cushioned stools along the sides was the only furniture beside the braziers burning their pleasantly sweet aroma.
“Where do you want us to sit?” she asked when they had already walked one length of the table.
“Not in here,” came his reply. “Turn away.”
They both turned their backs on him and after a few seconds silence, there was a soft rasping sound, then the quiet slap of palms against stone and a low exhalation of breath.
“Come with me,” Cacamatzin said.
Jessie turned around to see a narrow doorway in the previously solid looking wall.
“Bring a torch,” he pointed to a short wooden handle protruding from the top of the nearest brazier.
The hidden room was no more than five feet wide and seven feet long; just enough for the three of them and the two stools already there. The king took the torch, bent, and lifted two stone tiles out of the wall. Four illuminated round holes appeared in front of the stools.
“This is where you will sit,” he said to Jessie. “You can see the council table.” He raised the torch to the low roof. The ceiling had a large inverted dome in it, with a large black hole in the centre. “And you will hear everything that is said. Try it.”
Jessie settled herself on the stool and raised her eyes to the circles in the wall. She could see back into the chamber, down the long table. Ingenious, she thought. These holes must be hidden somewhere within the carved relief on the other side. She saw Tonauac enter. He looked over to where the secret door stood open and quickly made his way around the table. Jessie could hear his footfalls on the stone coming through the dome above her head.
“Lord,” his frame blocked the light in the narrow entrance, “they have arrived,” he said urgently.
Cacamatzin turned back to Jessie and Kes. “Be silent. You will hear the council, and if you make any sound, they will hear you.”
He took the torch with him, and the door shut with a muffled, ominous thud. The four glowing holes were the only source of light in the blackness which closed around them.
It took forever for the council to begin. Each king was greeted in accordance with his position. Jessie had to stifle a laugh watching Tonauac bounce up and down on his knee like a yo-yo. The kings were dressed for the occasion; all gold and feathers and precious stones. It was a solemn affair, without smiles or any display of friendship. Kinship even, Jessie thought. Weren’t they all related somehow? After the kings had settled, the remaining chairs were occupied by Cacamatzin’s loyal chiefs, their green and gold cloaks signifying allegiance to Texcoco. But not before each of them made a circuit of the table and bowed before the kings, did they settle down and the room became silent.
“Noble, great and glorious lords,” Cacamatzin began, “we are kings, princes and chiefs of the Mexica, and now, as well, we must become the saviours of our people. These Castilians are a plague, a sickness, settled on our bountiful lands and on the mind of our emperor. He welcomed them into Tenochtitlan, when many advised against it; advised another course of action. He was twice persuaded to stop them, and twice we were betrayed. Our Cholula cousins paid a heavy price for the emperor’s indecision. I counselled for a third, a fourth attempt, to destroy these foreigners. Yet our emperor surrendered once, and he has surrendered again. Malinche commands our emperor as he would a slave. The treasure of Axayácatl has been lost. That wealth, our tribute to the gods, was today surrendered to Malinche; a hopeless attempt to satisfy the Castilians’ sickness. Even now, they are scouring our territories and those of our neighbours to locate the gold they crave. Their manners are those of their animals, and, like a plague of locusts, they devour our food.”
Cacamatzin paused. He nodded at the muttering of agreement and resentment which rippled around the table.
“Like me, you have been forced to consider the fate which awaits us,” he spoke quietly. “Qualpopoca, his sons and the chiefs of Nauhtla, this is how it will end for us and our people, in the flames of the Castilian’s greed. Now is the time for us to strike, before the next disaster befalls us. Unite our cities and armies.”
Cacamatzin’s voice was becoming stronger, fervour shone in his eyes.
“Sever the head from the beast. Malinche and his captains must die, the rest will have a flowery death before Huitzilopochtli, and we shall ask his forgiveness for listening to their lies of this god on a cross.”
His passionate appeal met with enthusiastic table thumping, although Jessie noticed it was by no means unanimous. The kings, perhaps due to the gravitas of their position, didn’t join in, but neither did all of Cacamatzin’s own chiefs. It seemed this hadn’t escaped his attention either. With a stony face, he held up a hand for silence.
“You smile, Ixtlilxochitl, King of Matalcingo. Do you celebrate our triumph over these Castilians? Are you resolved to join us?”
Heads turned to the figure sitting with his back to Jessie, and she instinctively moved away from the two eye holes. Ixtlilxochitl wore a red and blue cloak, and from behind, his golden headdress with a rainbow of feathers looked like a peacock’s fan.
“First, Cacamatzin,” he replied in a measured, deep voice, “I ask who will lead this fight? What role do you see for yourself in this plan?”
There was no change on Cacamatzin’s face. He seemed prepared for the challenge.
“Texcoco is second only to Tenochtitlan,” he responded, equally measured. “As befits our importance, I will command my chiefs and those of Tenochtitlan. Yes, the answer is yes, I…”
“And,” the king of Matalcingo cut him off, “if you lead us to victory, do you expect us to bow before you as emperor? Is this your dream?”
This forthright question caused discomfort around the table. Bodies shifted, heads came together, and whispered comments rose on the air. Cacamatzin’s face simmered as he glared in silence at the far end of the table.
“This plan rests upon your lordship of Texcoco,” Ixtlilxochitl continued. “But you are forgetting it is I, not you, who is the rightful king of this city. It was the emperor’s favour, your uncle, which gave you this position. By birth, by lineage, by all our laws, it is rightfully mine.”
Cacamatzin stood up sharply, overturning his stool, which thudded dully on the floor. Ixtlilxochitl stood more slowly, and the two kings faced each other from opposite ends of the long table.
“Your jealousies and small mind make you weak Ixtlilxochitl; scalding me like an old woman. When we have to act and save our future, you are trapped in your past, arguing like a child who has lost his toy. So be it. We have no need of you, our plans are made. The armies of these great kings,” he swept his arm around the table, “will be more than enough. Our entrance to Tenochtitlan is assured. Malinche and his captains will be dead within an hour, and after we have feasted, we shall come for you.”
The king of Matalcingo walked the length of the table, to stand face to face with Cacamatzin.
“If you survive the fury of the Castilians, Cacamatzin, cast your eyes towards Matalcingo, for I will be coming to claim my right.” He turned away from the council and left.
Tonauac had been frantic over the previous days, sending and receiving a constant stream of messengers from every corner of the lake. From the little he said, negotiations had been delicate and tetchy. The nobles had waivered, demanding first to have the emperor’s consent, before then challenging Cacamatzin’s authority. Finally, it seems Cacamatzin had persuaded, bullied and shamed enough to come around to his way of thinking, and his council was planned for that evening.
“Are we joining?” Jessie asked surprised.
“Yes, but no,” was Cacamatzin’s curious reply, as they entered his council chamber.
They were deep in the heart of the king’s palace, the royal rooms from where Texcoco was governed. It had a secretive air. There were no windows. A long table with plentiful low, cushioned stools along the sides was the only furniture beside the braziers burning their pleasantly sweet aroma.
“Where do you want us to sit?” she asked when they had already walked one length of the table.
“Not in here,” came his reply. “Turn away.”
They both turned their backs on him and after a few seconds silence, there was a soft rasping sound, then the quiet slap of palms against stone and a low exhalation of breath.
“Come with me,” Cacamatzin said.
Jessie turned around to see a narrow doorway in the previously solid looking wall.
“Bring a torch,” he pointed to a short wooden handle protruding from the top of the nearest brazier.
The hidden room was no more than five feet wide and seven feet long; just enough for the three of them and the two stools already there. The king took the torch, bent, and lifted two stone tiles out of the wall. Four illuminated round holes appeared in front of the stools.
“This is where you will sit,” he said to Jessie. “You can see the council table.” He raised the torch to the low roof. The ceiling had a large inverted dome in it, with a large black hole in the centre. “And you will hear everything that is said. Try it.”
Jessie settled herself on the stool and raised her eyes to the circles in the wall. She could see back into the chamber, down the long table. Ingenious, she thought. These holes must be hidden somewhere within the carved relief on the other side. She saw Tonauac enter. He looked over to where the secret door stood open and quickly made his way around the table. Jessie could hear his footfalls on the stone coming through the dome above her head.
“Lord,” his frame blocked the light in the narrow entrance, “they have arrived,” he said urgently.
Cacamatzin turned back to Jessie and Kes. “Be silent. You will hear the council, and if you make any sound, they will hear you.”
He took the torch with him, and the door shut with a muffled, ominous thud. The four glowing holes were the only source of light in the blackness which closed around them.
It took forever for the council to begin. Each king was greeted in accordance with his position. Jessie had to stifle a laugh watching Tonauac bounce up and down on his knee like a yo-yo. The kings were dressed for the occasion; all gold and feathers and precious stones. It was a solemn affair, without smiles or any display of friendship. Kinship even, Jessie thought. Weren’t they all related somehow? After the kings had settled, the remaining chairs were occupied by Cacamatzin’s loyal chiefs, their green and gold cloaks signifying allegiance to Texcoco. But not before each of them made a circuit of the table and bowed before the kings, did they settle down and the room became silent.
“Noble, great and glorious lords,” Cacamatzin began, “we are kings, princes and chiefs of the Mexica, and now, as well, we must become the saviours of our people. These Castilians are a plague, a sickness, settled on our bountiful lands and on the mind of our emperor. He welcomed them into Tenochtitlan, when many advised against it; advised another course of action. He was twice persuaded to stop them, and twice we were betrayed. Our Cholula cousins paid a heavy price for the emperor’s indecision. I counselled for a third, a fourth attempt, to destroy these foreigners. Yet our emperor surrendered once, and he has surrendered again. Malinche commands our emperor as he would a slave. The treasure of Axayácatl has been lost. That wealth, our tribute to the gods, was today surrendered to Malinche; a hopeless attempt to satisfy the Castilians’ sickness. Even now, they are scouring our territories and those of our neighbours to locate the gold they crave. Their manners are those of their animals, and, like a plague of locusts, they devour our food.”
Cacamatzin paused. He nodded at the muttering of agreement and resentment which rippled around the table.
“Like me, you have been forced to consider the fate which awaits us,” he spoke quietly. “Qualpopoca, his sons and the chiefs of Nauhtla, this is how it will end for us and our people, in the flames of the Castilian’s greed. Now is the time for us to strike, before the next disaster befalls us. Unite our cities and armies.”
Cacamatzin’s voice was becoming stronger, fervour shone in his eyes.
“Sever the head from the beast. Malinche and his captains must die, the rest will have a flowery death before Huitzilopochtli, and we shall ask his forgiveness for listening to their lies of this god on a cross.”
His passionate appeal met with enthusiastic table thumping, although Jessie noticed it was by no means unanimous. The kings, perhaps due to the gravitas of their position, didn’t join in, but neither did all of Cacamatzin’s own chiefs. It seemed this hadn’t escaped his attention either. With a stony face, he held up a hand for silence.
“You smile, Ixtlilxochitl, King of Matalcingo. Do you celebrate our triumph over these Castilians? Are you resolved to join us?”
Heads turned to the figure sitting with his back to Jessie, and she instinctively moved away from the two eye holes. Ixtlilxochitl wore a red and blue cloak, and from behind, his golden headdress with a rainbow of feathers looked like a peacock’s fan.
“First, Cacamatzin,” he replied in a measured, deep voice, “I ask who will lead this fight? What role do you see for yourself in this plan?”
There was no change on Cacamatzin’s face. He seemed prepared for the challenge.
“Texcoco is second only to Tenochtitlan,” he responded, equally measured. “As befits our importance, I will command my chiefs and those of Tenochtitlan. Yes, the answer is yes, I…”
“And,” the king of Matalcingo cut him off, “if you lead us to victory, do you expect us to bow before you as emperor? Is this your dream?”
This forthright question caused discomfort around the table. Bodies shifted, heads came together, and whispered comments rose on the air. Cacamatzin’s face simmered as he glared in silence at the far end of the table.
“This plan rests upon your lordship of Texcoco,” Ixtlilxochitl continued. “But you are forgetting it is I, not you, who is the rightful king of this city. It was the emperor’s favour, your uncle, which gave you this position. By birth, by lineage, by all our laws, it is rightfully mine.”
Cacamatzin stood up sharply, overturning his stool, which thudded dully on the floor. Ixtlilxochitl stood more slowly, and the two kings faced each other from opposite ends of the long table.
“Your jealousies and small mind make you weak Ixtlilxochitl; scalding me like an old woman. When we have to act and save our future, you are trapped in your past, arguing like a child who has lost his toy. So be it. We have no need of you, our plans are made. The armies of these great kings,” he swept his arm around the table, “will be more than enough. Our entrance to Tenochtitlan is assured. Malinche and his captains will be dead within an hour, and after we have feasted, we shall come for you.”
The king of Matalcingo walked the length of the table, to stand face to face with Cacamatzin.
“If you survive the fury of the Castilians, Cacamatzin, cast your eyes towards Matalcingo, for I will be coming to claim my right.” He turned away from the council and left.
~~~
Blurb:
Jessie
Mason lives with her nose in the pages of history. But she is
discovering that the past is a dangerous place where she doesn't belong,
and knowledge alone is not going to save her.
Jessie’s
life has become a series of terrible challenges. Now she must lead her
friends in the hopeless task Grandfather set them: hunt down and destroy
the Time Stones. But her leadership has already failed. Tip has left
them and Abe has simply disappeared, while she and Kes are trapped in
the heart of an ancient empire in turmoil.
Thrust
into a fractured, threatened Mexica nobility, Jessie is immersed in a
way of life, fascinating and disturbing in equal measure, yet powerless
before the approaching Conquistadors and the impending clash of
cultures.
Even
as the fabulous city of Tenochtitlan descends into savage violence,
Jessie’s determination to succeed is undiminished. But with world
history taking a new, bloody direction before her, she is finally forced
to decide which is more important: continuing the task or simply
surviving.
Praise for Quetzalcoatl:
“Quetzalcoatl (Time Stones Book II) by Ian Hunter is a tautly gripping novel that is written with a sensitivity to the era it depicts, but it is also a story packed with adventure and magic. Hunter’s vivacious storytelling made this novel impossible to put down. It is a story that has been penned with an impressive sweep and brilliance.”
~ The Coffee Pot Book Club
Available to read with #KindleUnlimited.
~~~
About the Author:
Ian Hunter
Books
have been an important part of my life as long as I can remember, and
at 54 years old, that’s a lot of books. My earliest memories of reading
are CS Lewis’, “The Horse and His Boy” – by far the best of the Narnia
books, the Adventures series by Willard Price, and “Goalkeepers are
Different” by sports journalist Brian Glanville. An eclectic mix. My
first English teacher was surprised to hear that I was reading, Le
Carré, Ken Follett, Nevil Shute and “All the Presidents’ Men” by
Woodward and Bernstein at the age of 12. I was simply picking up the
books my father had finished.
School
syllabus threw up the usual suspects – Shakespeare, Chaucer, Dickens,
Hardy, “To Kill a Mockingbird” – which I have reread often, and others I
don’t immediately recall. By “A” level study, my then English teachers
were pulling their hair out at my “perverse waste of talent” – I still
have the report card! But I did manage a pass.
During
a 35 year career, briefly in Banking and then in IT, I managed to find
time, with unfailing family support, to study another lifelong passion,
graduating with an Open University Bachelors’ degree in History in 2002.
This fascination with all things historical inspired me to begin the
Time Stones series. There is so much to our human past, and so many
differing views on what is the greatest, and often the saddest, most
tragic story. I decided I wanted to write about it; to shine a small
light on those, sometimes pivotal stories, which are less frequently
mentioned.
In
1995, my wife, Michelle, and I moved from England to southern Germany,
where we still live, with our two children, one cat, and, when she pays
us a visit, one chocolate labrador. I have been fortunate that I could
satisfy another wish, to travel as widely as possible and see as much of
our world as I can. Destinations usually include places of historic and
archaeological interest, mixed with a large helping of sun, sea and
sand for my wife’s peace of mind.
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