A son stood over a bed of his dying father, a thick bandage wrapped about his father’s midsection; stained with much blood. He thought they would leave them alone, he thought that they would go away, yet they came and finished the deed and his father now clung to life by a thread. He was surrounded by many of his people, each one mourning and grieving of the loss of their leader. The sadness that surrounded them was so overwhelming that some fell to their earth, their hearts wracked with eternal sorrow. The son ignored them, for his pain was much deeper than their loss.
For he was alone.
He pressed himself against his father, his arms outstretched in a hug, his face nuzzled deep into his purple fur. As he embraced him he could feel the small trinkets and armbands wrapped around his front forelegs, each one symbols of the strengths that represented his father and his people. As his thoughts lingered on it he felt very weak inside his heart. He wanted to cry, he wanted to bellow, yet no tears came down his cheeks and he could not figure out why. He closed his eyes and held his father closer to him, fearing that if he let go of his father he would slip away into the nothingness.
“Our time is running out, my son.”
A powerful voice made its entrance into his thoughts; it was deep yet gentle as the wind. The son opened his eyes expecting to see his father, however he was no longer there. Panic gripped him and he scanned the room for the others, only to find that his people were missing as well. He called out to discover where they were yet no one replied. He rushed for the doorway, shoving it open to see his village, although the place was empty. His eyes scoured to the temples, the large stone structures that have stood proudly for many centuries, yet none of his tribe was there. The very streets that would be teeming with life were also abandoned; not a single soul was within the village. The only thing that greeted him was the cold wind.
He was alone.
“Cries of war, echo across the plains, and will come for our people,”
The son heard his father’s voice. He looked for him once more but was struck by a gust of wind that had seemingly been whipped out of nowhere. He shielded his eyes as the gale plowed into him, so intense was the wind that he felt he would be thrown into the sky like a leaf in a hurricane. When the wind slowly subsided he looked and beheld his people, yet they were not the same as before; instead they were preparing for battle. They were all armed with weapons of many kinds. They wielded their bows, with their arrows, with their scimitars, with their shields, with their clubs and with their slings, and were preparing themselves with all manner of weapons which were invented. Girded about their bodies was thick leather armor, each set unique and different. Many wore the jaguar skin while a few among them wore headdresses of different animals; these few were leaders, ready to fight and lead the people to glorious battle. The son could do nothing but watch as his people were readying themselves for war. He wanted to join them, he wanted to fight, for what ‘they’ have done, yet he could not move his body. Whatever presence kept him there he knew not.
“Remnants of our past, scar the land, the enemy staining it with our blood,”
A loud but familiar horn echoed upon the land and everyone shouted in joys of battle. They chanted to their god of war, promising to shed much blood upon the fields of battle, as well as protect the blood of the innocent. The son watched as thousands upon thousands of warriors gathered themselves for battle, beating their war drums in a rhythmic chant that resembled the beating heart. All of his people were on the march, including, to his disbelief, the women and children. They gathered themselves before a large valley, screaming and shouting curses upon their enemies, each hoping to take in their first kill. As their cries of war echoed upon the plains a loud horn blew into the sky, coming from the opposite end of the valley. The son's eyes widened and heard many of his people chant the same thing.
The ponies have come.
“The land that we hold dear will once again be besieged, in conflict.”
The son was suddenly breathing heavily. He was running, his heart beating rapidly, his legs growing strong upon the land as he was in full sprint. He was running alongside his friends, his families, and his people, charging toward a doom that awaited them; he witnessed many running on their long forearms while others carried their weapons into battle. The drums of war were played in a quick rhythm, beating as fast as each step taken. His blood pounded faster in his veins, his body sweated from the rush of adrenaline; he didn’t know why he had to run but he felt that he should be at the head his people. He saw the foot of the hill that lead into the valley and he continued to press forward. He reached the peak of the hill and began running down a steep slope, his people charging just ahead of him. He urged himself on, desperately trying to stay at the front and to be at the first clash. However, in his own haste, he began to tumble and slam into the ground hard. Dirt and grass launched into their air as he tumbled down the slope and came to an abrupt stop at the bottom. His head spun and his body ached from the violent impact; he tasted blood that dripped from his lips. He could not hear his people’s screams nor could he hear the clattering of shields or the sounds of feet being brought down upon the land.
The resonance of silence is all that he heard.
He opened his eyes to see them charging the enemy, but instead saw that he was not amongst his people. He could make out something on the opposite end of the valley. A pony. A pony in glorious set of armor, colored in hues of gold and blue. The designs in its armor were magnificent and had been perfectly crafted in a glorious detail that he could not describe. A cape billowed behind him, its color matching that of the sun. The pony cast his gaze toward the valley, watching the mass of warriors that was advancing toward him. The pony remained calm and was not shaken by what he saw, instead he was steady and immovable by the approaching horde. The pony was ready to face the foe before him. In that moment, the son could do nothing but stare in awe of the noble warrior.
“Their champions will rise to challenge our destiny; and will lead their brethren to battle.”
His father’s words touched his soul and he beheld the same pony raising a sword into the air with his hoof; his body moved in a fluid motion that resembled more of an acrobat than a fighter. He froze in place as he saw the pony lift the steel blade back and swiftly bring it forward, directed at him. The instant it was brought down thousands of ponies began to charge, roaring out a battle cry so loud it shook the very air around him. He saw the ponies descend down the slope, their banners billowing in the wind as they charged into the fray, ready to tackle the enemy head on. The armor gleamed brightly before the sun, making it shine as a beacon to the land. The son could only watch as the thundering of hooves approached him. The sight gripped his heart to a point that he was powerless to run. He tried to turn, to get away from the incoming enemy, but he was rooted to the earth and he could not budge.
“As we fight for our birthright we will show the outsiders our wrath; and the burning shadow will never consume our hearts.”
The son watched as the two sides would soon clash, his heart raced as worry grew within him for his people. Light flashed above him and he looked at the sky to see it split in two. Two colors, opposite of each other, filled the sky. One side crimson and the other azure, turning the sky into a bleak twilight that consumed them all. When the son looked down he saw the two forces approaching at a rapid pace, charging out in reckless abandon. On his left was ponies, Equestria’s finest soldiers that the land had ever known. To his right was that of his people, his own race bringing themselves to fight against the ponies that wronged them. The two armies raised their battle cries further, so loud that it deafened the son’s ears and he tried to block it out. Then, at the last minute, the two armies raised their weapons toward one another and clashed; the sound booming as metal scraped upon metal, and steel upon flesh.
The son closed his eyes in fear. He huddled himself onto the ground and cried out, almost screaming as the battle raged around him. He was not ready for this, he was never ready to lead, and he could not take this responsibility. He wanted his father, he wanted his guidance, his wisdom. He was not prepared for the life ahead of him. The cries of his people sent shivers down his spine. He could not help them, for he didn’t know how. He saw the captains fall one by one and his people were screaming out for him to lead. He felt weak inside, the world around him came crashing down. He felt his body cave in to sorrow as he could do nothing to save his people. The cries haunted him, wracking his body in eternal torment. His heart felt it had rent in two and he wallowed in his own anguish.
“I don’t want this! I never wanted this! I don’t want this to be my fate!” he finally screamed out.
“It doesn't have to be, Ahuizotl.”
His father’s voice reached out to him, a feeling of ease rushed through him as if he was plucked up from the sea of darkness.
He opened his eyes, everything was quiet.
There was no sound of fighting, no clash of weapons, and no cries for help. There was only silence that greeted him. He slowly lifted himself off the ground, his body shaken from the horrific screams he heard mere moments ago. He was sitting in a field that was both calm and serene. A wind blew gently across the land, creating waves on the ocean of fields.
“For I have faith in you, my son.”
His breath shuddered as he heard the words uttered. Ahuizotl turned around and saw his father standing before him. He wore clothing that would rival any king. A set of bracelets were on each of his forelegs. Golden jewry was wrapped around his neck, the golden pieces so wide and bright that he could easily see his reflection. His father’s fur was deep in purple and his under belly was a lighter shade. His headdress was that of a golden eagle, the highest rank of warrior and only few leaders would ever wear them. His father stared at him with golden eyes, the same as his own, and they bore into his soul. The son felt his body shake, almost to the point that he would fall again, yet his father’s eyes were filled with compassion. In that moment the son fell forward and went into his father’s loving embrace. He wrapped his arms around his father’s midsection. His lips quivered and his eyes began to water. His father returned the gesture, wrapping his massive forearms around him as he buried his face into his thick neck. The two stayed like that for some time, the sun descending into the horizon and basking the land with the last of its light.
“I believe in you, my son.”
His father spoke again, his voice bringing much comfort to his troubled heart.
“You will become a powerful leader. You have much potential within you. I know that you will make the right decisions for our people.”
His father’s words were soothing and his mind was at ease because of it. As he continued to listen to his father’s words he could not help but feel this was leading to something.
“Father, please… I’m not ready for this… I need you here to guide me. Without you, I’m only going to be forsaken by my people. I just-” His words were cut off as he felt his father’s forearm close tightly around him, bringing him further into his embrace; his warmth so inviting.
“My son, there will be times when life will throw everything it has at you. Where you must stand for your beliefs and to face those challenges head on. However, you will never be alone, there will be others that will help you along your path. You must accept that they can mean a difference in your decisions and it is they that can tip the scale in your favor. My Son. The time for you to pick up the sword… is now.”
His words pierced his heart. His mind tried to wrap around everything that he had said. His father wanted him to lead. He held his father more tightly, he knew what his father wanted, but at the same time he did not. He still had much to learn, that much was true, however, he wished for his father’s guidance, he needed him here. He-
He felt a paw caress his cheek. It was so unexpected, so needed, that he began to cry at the touch, tears streaming down his cheeks. The paw came upon his chin and his head was lifted up to see his father’s smiling face. As he stared into his golden eyes he saw that his father did care for him, that he loved him no matter what. He would be proud of him.
“I love you, my child. You… must rally our people. Lead them to a better future. I leave them all to you.”
The last words echoed as his father became silent. The warmth he gave was gone. His father left the world of the living and now rested in the spirit world, a realm where only the dead would take comfort in. As his father lay lifeless in his arms the son cried out for him to return, but no matter how many times he cried out for his name he would never return to his side.
For he was alone.
***
Ahuizotl awoke from his slumber, sweat pouring down his face as he tried to comprehend the dream. His father was there; he was still alive yet he was not. He didn’t know what to believe. It... it felt so real to him. He lifted himself from his makeshift bed, breathing heavy breaths as he tried to calm himself.
“Ahuizotl,” a voice entered his room, breaking him from his thoughts. “it is time.”
“I’m coming, Tenoch. Just… just give me a minute.” Ahuizotl replied, his voice weary. He went off his bed and began to dress himself up, adorning his body with the proper attire. He did not like to dress in such a manner, as it would not even befit him, but he had to do it. Besides, he had to attend his father’s funeral. After he was fully dressed did he take leave of his home and into his village.
Ahuizotl saw many of his people, his own kind, walking amongst the streets, each dressed in the same manner as he. The citizens had different coats that matched their attire, while the warriors, the proudest jaguar and eagle warriors he had ever known, were garbed in their armor as a sign of respect to their fallen king. As he made his way down the long streets he saw the procession just ahead of him. He saw Tenoch, the elder of his people, at the head of the column. Behind him were small children, spreading out small lilies onto the path. Behind the small children were lines of mourners, wailing and crying out to their gods to grant safe passage for their leader. Behind them was a long casket, adorned with many trinkets and personal belongings. He saw his father, his body laid out on a flat dais, being carried by several ponies who once lived with them. Ahuizotl watched as the ponies moved along with the procession. Unlike the other ponies that lived on the outside, these ones lived with them in the jungles of Amarezon. They knew of the ways, they lived as his people did and they defend the jungles and they would not let outsiders destroy their homes. Ahuizotl respected them as much as he did his people and he would treat them as one of his own compared to the outsiders. As the procession continued he joined with them, following them into the jungle.
Hours passed as the procession continued, following down a path that stretched deeper and deeper into the heart of the jungle. He knew this route, it was all too familiar. Near the the top of the jungle foliage he saw where the procession was heading. It was their forbidden city, a place they once called their own, however it was now barren and desolate and Ahuizotl knew the reason. As he passed the archways leading into the city, memories of his childhood poured into his mind, recalling the moments that lead up to the destruction of the forbidden city.
The forbidden city, once a metropolis where tens of thousands of his kind lived and thrived, now a desolate wasteland. The streets were once filled with many market stalls that sold their wares, towers that stretched as the trees of the jungles, and their temples were magnificent to behold that they would rival Canterlot itself. When he was just a child he ran and played with many of his friends, enjoying life to the fullest, never once thinking that anyone would dare attack it.
Yet someone did.
It was a grim day that no one would have predicted. An army clad in black and bore no mark attacked them without warning. Whatever soldiers they could gather were quickly slaughtered by their rampage. The ponies plundered what was not tied down, they burned homes that stood in their path and they killed everyone that they saw. Ahuizotl remembered that he was huddled against his home, holding onto a spear from a dead warrior. He was scared, he was frightened, he did not know what to do. Everything was burning around him, his people dying in the streets, and the enemy was everywhere enjoying the plunder. As he cowered in fear he did not see three of the black clad ponies taking notice of him. One of them called out ‘get them all’ as the other two charged at him. He gripped the spear even tighter, not knowing what to do or what to think. He prayed for help but whatever he did, nothing was stopping their charge. It was in that moment, when they were almost upon him, his father appeared before him and killed the assailants.
He watched as his father land in front of him, garbed in his leather armor and eagle headwear. He held a macuahuitl, a blade that bore many sharp stones on either side, the edges sharp enough to cut clean through the head of one of the attackers. One fell to the earth instantly while the other was thrown back toward the third pony, a sharp blow directly across its eye. His father stared at the third attacker, the two eyeing each other for the briefest of moments, before charging at each other and joining battle. Before Ahuizotl could see or comprehend what he saw, he felt a strong foreleg wrap around his midsection and carry him off. He calmed the moment he felt the touch, the smell so familiar, the voice so sweet and gentle. The moment was overwhelming and he slipped into unconsciousness.
Ahuizotl’s mind snapped into place as he stopped in front of the procession. His people were still mourning, yet much more softly than before. The children that tossed the white lilies had stopped and were now standing beside their families. His people gathered in a semicircle in the center of the forbidden city. He saw two headstones, each identical to one another. In front of them his father was laid, placing next to an open grave that was freshly dug; for a brief moment he thought his father was merely asleep. His gaze turned toward the old structures that surrounded them, and he could clearly see the burn marks that still remained. His eyes followed the ancient structures to the temples, their frames destroyed and broken on the ground. The invaders sacked the city, leaving nothing for his people, even salting the earth so that the crops would not be usable. A voice soon entered his thoughts and he turned to see Tenoch addressing the people.
The elder spoke of many things, even gave blessings upon his father and his seed. He told of their history, dating back to the time when the regal sisters came to power, even retelling of their tragedy years ago, where tens of thousands of his kind lived, but now only a few thousand of his kind remained. Anger grew within him when the princesses were mentioned. When word came of the destruction of their city, and the massacre of his people, Princess Celestia was shocked and even condemned those that attacked them. She even offered aid to search for those that caused the slaughter. However, his father rebutted her, stating that all outside ponies are the same, and he would curse their names and attack their nearby villages if they set a hoof into their lands.
He wanted no outsider to mettle in their affairs, for his people and the jungle ponies would only watch their own.
Tenoch soon spoke of the hardships that they went through since the massacre, telling of how his father continued to keep his people happy, despite their loss. The elder then declared that if it weren’t for his father, the people would have been destroyed long ago. The elder, now finished, stepped aside as the people began to place flowers around his body. They passed his body, giving a small blessing or an offer of gratitude. Ahuizotl remained where he was, watching his people and the ponies of the jungle continue to pass by and offer their thanks to their leader. Hours soon passed and many of the people left, yet he remained where he was, staring at his father's grave, now buried into the earth. When the last of his people had gone, and the elder was the only one remaining, Ahuizotl felt the courage to step forward to his father’s grave. When he approached he stared at the ground for a moment before looking at the headstones. Upon the graves he could clearly see the names.
“Here lies Icnoyotl Kahn, righteous king of all Amarezon. Alongside his wife, beloved queen Citlali. May they always be remembered for their sacrifice and may their memories be treasured forever.”
Ahuizotl stared at the name of his mother. He remembered all too well what she had done for him, how she had died for him.
For she was the one who saved his life.
She whisked him away to the jungle while being pursued, placing him in a hollow near a river bed, away from the prying eyes of his pursuers. He awoke in the final moments where she held him close, hugging him for the last time and kissing his cheek. He called out for her but she had already turned and ran, leading the pursuers away from him. He heard her cries soon after and he cried himself to sleep that very night.
He placed a paw on the gravestones, gently rubbing across its smooth surface. It was right then and there that all the caged emotions he had built up had now broken free and tears began streaming down his face. He lowered his head, placing it firmly against the gravestones, his tears falling upon the ground. He stayed like that for what felt like hours. He never wanted to leave, he never wanted to go, yet he knew that they were gone.
He would never see them again.
“Ahuizotl,” Tenoch spoke, his voice soft and raspy, “your father wanted you to have this.”
Ahuizotl turned to the elder and saw him holding something that he thought he would never see again. In his paws he held the macuahuitl, his father’s blade. He moved closer to the elder, his eyes never straying from the blade itself. The blade’s surface was smooth and the obsidian stones were jagged and sharp. The length was at least over three feet, long enough to reach any enemy and wide enough to cut anyone down. As he stared at the blade, the elder spoke to him.
“This blade, The Manticore’s bane, belonged to your forefathers. Your father knew the time would come when you should take up the sword. Do you have an oath to speak of so that I, Tenoch, my perceive it?”
Ahuizotl nodded.
“Then raise your paw.”
He did what he was told, raising his right paw straight out so that his palm nearly touched the blade’s edges. Closing his eyes he pressed his palm into the blade, drawing fresh blood. He ignored the pain and he recited the oath.
“Upon my blood, I make this solemn vow.”
He drew his paw across the blade, cutting a line deep into his flesh. He clenched his paw into a fist. The pain stung him slightly but he continued to ignore it.
“Upon the blood of my father, upon the blood of my sons, I will uphold the duties as leader of my people.”
He grabbed the blades hilt, clenching tightly with his paw, blood continued trickling down and falling to the earth.
“Upon my blood, I will restore my people to their former glory and avenge those who have fallen.”
He raised the sword high into the air, the blade pointing directly toward the heavens above. In one breath he cried out and finished his vow.
“I, Ahuizotl, son of Icnoyotl Kahn, will see justice brought upon our enemies and our people restored!” Ahuizotl looked up into the sky, his breath leaving him as he spoke his last word. His vow finished, he lowered the weapon and his gaze fell to the Tenoch, who was pleased by what he heard. The two turned and left, leaving the graves behind them. Ahuizotl went to secure the sword to his back when he notice something he did not expect: a few lines near the hilts edge. He looked at the words closely, trying to decipher what they read; his movements made tenoch stop in place and to turn to him. His eyes widened as soon as he finished reading and he turned to Tenoch who remained ever calm by this.
“This… this is-” Ahuizotl began but Tenoch lifted his paw to him.
“Yes. The inscription is from your father. He written the text to remind you of what you must do and to let you know that what he says will keep us united.” Tenoch explained as Ahuizotl was lost for words, trying to comprehend it all. Tenoch closed his eyes and took a slow breath.
“My life is dedicated to my people,” Tenoch spoke, reciting the words written on the sword, “My strength guides my people, my soul bound to protect my people. For as I am one with the land, I am one with them.” Tenoch finished as he opened eyes, now staring at a now stunned Ahuizotl, his eyes were wet again as he stared at the blade before him.
“Your father wanted you remember these words, to carry on even after he has long past. Let his memory remain with you, and he will always remain by your side... forever.”
“The time for you to pick up the sword… is now.”
The words echoed in Ahuizotl’s mind and he was silent for the longest time. It was in that moment of silence that he finally understood what his father truly meant. He understood that it was his people that needed him now. The answer was in front of him along, and he was too blinded by his own misery to even see it. As he stayed like that, he felt a paw pressed against his shoulder. He looked up from the blade into the caring eyes of Tenoch. He bore a smile that melted his fear and showed nothing more than love and compassion.
“ Your father knew what was best for you, Ahuizotl. I will give aid to you as I did him.”
Tears were continuing down his cheeks, yet Ahuizotl nodded in approval. The elder gave a hearty chuckle from his response.
“Your parents were, and would be, very proud of you Ahuizotl. Never forget that.”
Ahuizotl nodded and did something that the elder would never forget. He wrapped his forearms around the elder in a tight hug. Tenoch only smiled as he returned the gesture.
“I know, Tenoch.” Ahuizotl said through tears. “ I know.”
Ahuizotl knew it would be a long road ahead of him. He knew it would take years to restore the forbidden city and years longer to restore his people to their former glory. However, at this moment, it didn’t matter to him. He knew that his parents were still with him, and they would always be with him. Their love for him was pure, and he knew that he would never forget them. As he stayed with the elder a single thought coursed through his mind. It was something he remembered that his father had said in his dreams. The thought made him bring a smile upon his countenance, and he will always be with them in his heart, forever.
“For I have faith in you, my son.”
Author's Note
This is my first story and I'm very proud of it. I wanted to give a nice back story for Ahuizotl since there are not very many stories dealing about his past. I would like to hear your thoughts and comments on the story and what you think of it.
Feedback is greatly appreciated.
Also on those who wonder what the charge scene is? Inspiration for the scene, and this story, came to me from this. If you thought the scene was from something else then please do share your thoughts on what you believe it was.
( I know I'm a fan.) 
