Conquistadora

Peace is a precious thing.

I reminded myself of that as I looked over the village. Mud and thatch huts rose from the hot, muddy sand, shading their occupants from the wrath of the sun goddess. In between, scraggly green weeds grew on and around the tan dirt paths, which had beaten down by hundreds of bare feet over the ages.

Wherever there was soft dirt, there were farms. Ripe maize hung at shoulder-height, while beans and squash carpeted the ground. One of the maize fields had been deemed ripe, and now the slaves were at harvest, their bare backs brown and even red in the sun.

Even from my distance, I could hear the shouts of the overseer. One woman stood in the middle of them, dressed in the bloom of feathers, jewels and war paint that women always wore. She shrilled out orders to the slave boys, making them flinch whenever she looked at them.

As I watched, one of the boys collapsed on the edge of the farm, pawing at the dirt, struggling to get himself up. It was only a matter of time before the slave driver saw him.

I couldn't watch anymore. I leaned into a jog, my bare feet padding on the hard dirt path, the hot air flowing across my bare chest and shoulders, brushing back my medium-length brown hair. My itchy woven collar bounced with my stride, scratching at my neck.

I knelt by the slave boy, taking one of his hands. He looked pitifully up at me.

"My back," he said softly. "It hurts."

"Hey!" barked the overseer, "what do you think you're doing?"

My muscles froze up. Before I could convince myself to move, the overseer's hand clamped onto my shoulder and pulled, sending me flat on my back. Her bare foot came down on my chest, almost choking me, and I stared worriedly up at her, shielding my eyes.

The overseer looked no less intimidating when I could see up her loincloth. Her white-painted face seemed like a second sun, blasting me with all of its intensity, and her strong, tattooed arms hung like snakes, ready to throttle me if I made a wrong move.

"Get out of here, boy," she snarled. "These slaves aren't going to harden up on their own. The last thing I need is for some stupid cock to come in here and s-"

"Get off my boy!" yelled a new voice.

I cringed. The overseer looked over at the speaker. I did too, but I didn't need to. I knew that voice.

A woman marched up to us, short but stocky and mean, with skin a shade darker than everyone else's and with black fangs painted under the corners of her mouth. Her black hair hung down to her shoulders, billowing out like a cape, and her muscular arms were festooned with woven cuffs heavy with polished stones. A wreath of feathers held together by a tough rope hung around her waist, holding up her dun grass skirt.

This was Maccuahuitl, my wife. My mother had married me to her three months ago, and, since then, Maccuahuitl had never let me forget that I belonged to her.

A shadow fell over me. I looked up, seeing Maccuahuitl looming over me on all fours, her hair spilling down around her. She brought her mouth down inches from mine.

"What do you think you were doing here?" she whispered, in breathy, sinister voice. "Huh? What's the big idea?"

"That slave," I said, with all the resolution I could muster. "He needs help."

"Oh, I bet you were helping alright. You were fucking him, weren't you?"

"No."

"Yeah, I bet you were. You and those fucktoys over there? You were having a good time, weren't you?"

"No!"

She grabbed my chin and forced my head to the side, turning my eyes to a field full of slaves, all of them watching me with fear and fascination. Maccuahuitl's breath tickled my ear.

"Well, you don't get to have fun with them anymore," she huffed. "You hear me? I want kids next spring, and you're staying hard until then. Got it?"

I failed to respond. A hand reached down under my loincloth, and fingers closed around my unguarded manhood, hot and tight. She pumped it once, and I gasped.

"This is mine," she said, "not yours, and no one uses it until I say so, got it?"

"Yes... yes, my wife."

"Hah. Good."

Finally, her fingers lifted away, and she marched off, holding her head high. I lay limply on my back for a second, still recovering from her sudden domination.

I turned back to the slaves, massaging my chin, and looked for the sun-sore boy. Before I found him, the overseer's eyes met mine, searing anger at me. She opened her mouth to say something, then froze. Her scowl melted, and, for the second time, she stepped worriedly back. The slaves did the same.

Turning around, I saw what had frightened her, and I suddenly wished I could be in the fields with her.

Nemamauhtilo walked up to me in her commanding imperial stride. I did the only thing a man can do; I stood up straight and waited.

"You," she said, pointing to me, "was that woman harassing you?"

For one moment, my mind was a formless whirlpool. Nemamauhtilo was the one woman who even my wife feared. A generation ago, the Itecotlaca empire had come to our village, demanding tribute. It had seemed benign at first, until we learned that the empire demanded not only food, but human beings to be dragged off to sacrifice to their goddesses. We had resisted, and the Itecotlaca imperials had put down the rebellion. They had taken a dozen prisoners, including men, and left Nemamauhtilo behind to keep us obedient. We had cowered under her cruel eyes ever since.

And now those eyes were fixed on me.

"Answer me, boy," she said icily.

"No," I stammered out. "I'm... that's my wife. We're..."

"I was referring to the slave driver. I know you are not hers."

"Oh," I said, "No. No, I'm fine."

Nemamauhtilo stared lethally at me, and I braced myself to be sentenced to the altar. Instead, she turned smartly around and marched away.

I breathed a quick sigh of relief, then turned and sprinted off to the jungle before anyone else could threaten me.

In the jungle, I was safe. This thick, sticky morass of hot leaves and flowers bordered the northern side of the village, and it stretched as far as anyone cared to explore. It was the perfect place for my friends and me to socialize. We spoke freely there, safely away from feminine judgment, and some of us even made love, if we had such inclinations. When we returned, we always brought baskets of fruits and vegetables we had picked along the way, and the women had no reason to suspect we had been up to anything else.

Now the other boys gathered in a sand circle in sight of a grotto- one of our favorite clearings. There were seven of us there already. Three of them stood a distance away, but still within earshot, adding to a half-filled basket of guavas, tomatoes and other goods in the middle of the clearing. The rest sat around the basket, talking or fidgeting. The sun, the sand and the air were all so stiflingly hot, a few of the boys weren't even bothering to wear their loincloths, letting their organs hang free or rest on the sand were they sat.

The other boys all greeted me with upraised hands and casual fanfare. I smiled and returned the gesture as I sat in the clearing, keeping my loincloth on.

"It's been a long time," said Icniuh, my best friend. "Come here..."

He reached for me, and I swept him up into a hug, feeling his hot, slippery skin on mine. We kissed, and I could feel his well-practiced lungs pulling on me in gentle pulses. His fingers touched my firm stomach, then crawled down beneath my loincloth.

"Ooh," I moaned. "Not now. I'm married, Icniuh. We can't do this anymore."

Icniuh's fingers pulled reluctantly away, but he couldn't resist trailing them on my skin for a few more seconds, letting me feel his heat.

"How's the marriage going?" he asked, sitting us both down on a log.

I frowned, knowing that there was no escape from that question.

Moans of sympathy came from everyone. Icniuh handed me a dozen beans, which I gratefully took.

The other boys quieted down as I ate. I hunched covetously over the morsel, making no effort to keep my eating quiet. Beans were not a rarity, but a gift given out of compassion was a treasure I could always appreciate. I savored every last speck of it.

"There," Icniuh said, as I finished them, "are you feeling better?"

"Yes," I breathed. "Thank you, Icniuh."

"So, what is it like? Is she demanding? What do you do at night?"

The other boys huddled close. None of them knew what to expect when their turn came to have sex, and any first-hand account would be precious to them.

"Nothing, yet," I said. "She says she won't use me until spring."

Everyone's face fell.

"Just today," I added, "she was pushing me around because she thought I was fooling around with the slaves."

"Slaves?" said someone.

Two other boys broke out in heavy, wide-mouthed laughter, and a third one joined in. Icniuh tittered, looking to me, and I managed a smile.

"She thinks we have sex with slaves?" said one of them, "Women still think that? Oh, sprits, where does that come from?"

"No idea," I said. "But, thanks to it, I get no peace anymore."

"Peace?"

"Peace is a precious thing. Before I was married, I lived without fear. I crafted, I spun and I even helped make stew sometimes. The women protected me, and I served them. That's how it's supposed to work. But Maccuahuitl is different. I need to watch everything I say around her... everything I do, too. She seems to think I'll slip off and cheat on her if she so much as turns her back. I'm lucky if she doesn't have a leash on my collar by winter."

"Maybe she'll grow out of it," said Icniuh. "She's still young. She might need a few months to get used to the fact that you're hers."

"No," I said. "She's not young. She's twenty-eight. At that age, there's no excuse for this."

"Well... what else can you do?"

"I'm going to run away."

The clearing fell silent. The one boy who was still foraging stopped in his tracks.

"Wait a minute," said Icniuh, "think about what you're saying. This isn't wise. Where would you go? I heard they eat men alive in the highland tribe."

"No," said someone else. "That's just if you lose. They'll tie your ankle to a big stone ring, and a girl will come in fight you. If you win, she's your slave."

"I thought that was the volcano tribe," said a third boy. "The highlanders have to come down and steal men, because they're all women, and-"

"What about-"

"I'm not going to another tribe," I cut off. "Not the highlanders, not the marsh hunters and not the islanders. I'm going to meet the conquistadoras."

Everyone gasped. One boy laughed nervously, thinking it was a joke. Then he clammed up.

"They're not even human," someone started up. "They're made of metal. Why them?"

"You can't go there," said Icniuh, desperation creeping into his voice. "Please, just don't. They don't speak our language. Even the Itecotlaca are scared of them. If they see you alone, they'll beat you and rape you. Maybe worse."

"That's nothing my wife won't do," I returned. "And, besides, rumor has it they're coming this way next. The Itecotlaca are denying it, but no one can stop them. A lot of people think they're goddesses. Maybe they'll treat me better than Maccuahuitl, and maybe they won't. But I do know this: it's always wise to side with the winning team. If they're going to take me, I'd rather they do it peaceably."

Icniuh stared at me with sorrowful resign. He knew I couldn't be dissuaded.

"Good luck," he murmured. "That's all I can say."

* * *

That night, Maccuahuitl fell asleep with her arms curled tightly around me, pulling me up to her chest. I lay patiently, unable to sleep even if I had wanted to.

I waited for her grip to loosen. Halfway through the night, she grew so hot that she sweated, and I could feel her womanhood getting dewy. To my embarrassment, I hardened. If Maccuahuitl had woken up and tried to use me on the spot, she would have had no trouble.

Her fingers tightened around me, and I bit my lip to keep from whimpering as her nails dug grooves into my shoulders. She sidled closer to me, pressing her hot skin to mine and trying to envelop me with her strong arms and lustful fingers. When she shifted, I rotated, giving her an arm instead of my whole body. When she pulled tighter, her sweaty hands slipped off my arm.

I was out of her hands. I wasn't free- I would never be free until I had this blasted collar off- but at least I could move. Meekly, I padded out of the hut, ducking out into the open air.

The stars shone, peaceful as ever, as though the goddesses were watching me with a thousand passive eyes. I stared back up at them, and my beating heart went calm. No matter what happened, the goddesses would be there, watching.

I made east, in the direction the conquistadoras hailed from, according to hearsay. I broke into a jog, letting my feet rustle on the sand. Halfway to the edge of the village, I paused, looking out over the eastern sand dunes. They stretched from one edge of my vision to the next, welcoming me and challenging me at the same time. It may have held desolation, or peril, or even death. But it also held freedom.

Just as I prepared to start, a strong, feminine hand came down over my mouth, and another one curled around my bare stomach. I stiffened, yelping into the hand.

"What are you doing outside?" came a female voice. "Alone at night? That's dangerous for a cock like you, you know."

"No..." I whimpered. "No..."

"Relax. If I used you, my sister would have me for lunch when she found out. I'm just warning you."

Her arms came away, and her hand stung on my left ass cheek. I barely restrained a whoop.

I turned around, covering my crotch out of habit, and saw my sister-in-law. Her body looked like Maccuahuitl's, but her eyes were a world apart from her sister's. They were heavy-lidded and sedate, panning over my mostly-naked body with quiet enjoyment.

"You'd better get moving," she said. "Whatever my sister sent you for, she's not going to wait long for it."

I nodded wordlessly and sprinted off like a scared animal.

Miles away from the village, my feet stopped pounding so desperately, and I slowed to a walk, pacing myself. At first, I glanced feverishly over my shoulder, expecting to see Maccuahuitl hunting me. As the night wore on, and no living thing disturbed me, my nerves calmed. I looked up at the sky again. I had done it; I had run away. I was free now, and, more importantly, I was at peace.

I saw fire ahead. Since there were no tribes on this parched stretch of earth, fire could only mean one thing: conquistadoras.

I crept along the sand, my heart racing. This was the moment of truth.

I heard voices and straightened my posture, craning my neck and squinting to see what was ahead. In the distance, human figures spoke over fires and slept on sprawling black cots, and a few of them even talked.

In between them, I saw something less familiar. Towering, furry animals stood by the fires, standing on four straight legs that ended in circular hooves. Fans of black hair swung behind their muscular bodies, and long heads hung at the ends of thick, upward-slanting necks. On the tops of their heads, tall, broad ears perked up, then trained on me.

I gasped, still unwilling to believe that they had seen me. A few of the people scrambled to their feet, and I froze.

"Intrusa!" cried a female voice, "Por ahí!"

I watched, my feet rooted to the floor, as two people stood up, then six, then ten. They marched up to me, shadowy silhouettes against the starry night sky.

Something terribly cold pressed into the small of my back. I jumped, yelping, and turned around.

A woman stood behind me. To my disconcert, her chest and head were both covered in some stiff, shiny material. Her leather pants led down to her feet, which hid within enclosed sandals. Most strikingly of all, however, was her face. Her skin was pale white, her features were soft, but firm, her brown eyes sat under smoothly curved eyebrows and her hair was bright yellow- a color I had never seen before. She stared at me with intent curiosity.

"Es sola, y es casi de nuda," she said, in a calm, inquisitive voice. "Esa es unusual, aún para su gente. No es guerrera, verdad?"

I stared back at her, having no idea what to make of it.

"Pade..." she said, her eyebrows rising, "mis diosas, eres muchacho!"

"What?" I said at last. "Who are you? What are you doing?"

"You're not a warrior, are you?" she said.

I started. This woman spoke my language flawlessly.

"No," I said, as soon as I gathered myself. "No, I'm not a fighter. I'm... I'm lost."

I had said that without thinking, but it was mostly true.

The woman looked past me, over my shoulder, and I turned. A few other figures marched toward us, clanking with every step.

"They're coming for you," the woman said to me. "Don't panic. I will handle this."

I clasped my hands, shifting worriedly from foot to foot as the woman stepped between me and the advancing figures. My fate was in her hands now.

"No os proucupéis," said the woman."Es mi novio."

"Un novio?" came the response. "Tienes novio, Catalina?"

"De verdad?" said another voice.

"Ah, por supuesta," said another, sounding insincere. "Si, si, qualquier dices, Catalina."

"No hay peligro," said the woman next to me. "Voled a cama."

"Bueno. Diviertate con el. No dirémos, te prometolo."

The distant women turned back to their fires. I looked to the woman next to me, having no idea what to expect. I wanted to thank her, but my mouth would not move.

"Come with me," she said.

She did not give me a choice. Her hand closed around my wrist, gently but firmly, and she led me away from the others. I hadn't understood what she had said, but I still knew enough about women to know that she was my lifeline.

At the crook of a sand dune, she sat me down and knelt in front of me, her eyes a few inches above mine.

"What have you done?" she said. "You could have been killed."

"What did I do wrong?" I asked.

"You looked like a raider. You almost spooked the guards."

These women were probably not goddesses, then.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to scare anyone. I was only running away from home."

The woman recoiled, her eyebrows jumping. Her face changed from bafflement to indignation.

"You ran away from your own family?" she said accusingly.

"My wife scared me."

"You ran away from your WIFE?"

I hung my head and said, "Yes."

"What possessed you?"

"She was going to hurt me. She kept thinking I was going to cheat on her, but I wasn't. I didn't want to belong to her for the rest of my life. I came here to be safe."

The woman's shoulders slumped, and pity filled her eyes.

"I always knew these people were cruel to their men," she said, "but I had still imagined better than this."

Her other hand reached for my wrist, and I jerked my arm away. She looked up at me, softly and full of compassion, and I returned my hand to her. She enclosed it in her fingers.

"You're safe with me," she said. "My name is Catalina. What are you called?"

I hesitated.

"Or I could think of a name for you," she said. "How about... Valentino?"

"Fatlentico..." I tried. "Valentltino..."

Catalina giggled and said, "I'm sure you'll get used to it. Most boys do."

"You mean there are more?"

"Of course. You're not the only one of the native's boys we've taken in. Would you like to meet the others?"

I sat upright, wanting to kiss the woman on the spot, and said, "Yes. Yes, please!"

She helped me up, still holding my hand, and I eagerly followed her past the strange four-footed things, past sacks of unknown goods, past armored women who crouched over boards, rolling dice and drinking.

Up ahead, my heart leapt as I saw a circle of boys, most of them my age, sitting around a fire. I saw plenty of loincloths just like mine, but a few of them wore cloaks or robes.