Author's Notes: So I started this a looong time ago… back when I wrote 'You Fight Like My Sister!' if anyone remembers that… but I hit a block so I stopped and forgot about it. Much later, I came back and read it, and thought, 'Hey, this has a lot more potential than I remember!' so I decided to continue. Although it took me a while after that to actually finish a chapter, and I'm not sure where it's going after this. x3 It was originally meant to be a one-shot, but… it mutated?
The bits in italics are, as you'll see, my own descriptions of relevant scenes from the film. I've never read the official novelisation, so no details from that will appear in this, and if the writing itself coincides… then yay me? o.O
A Note on Pronunciation: Any 'x's that are in people's names are intended to be pronounced like a harsh 'h' in the back of your throat – the same as 'j' is in Spanish for anyone familiar with that language. So not like the English 'cs' sound.
Also, I put a Spanish-type accent on 'Mixél' to indicate that the stress falls on the second syllable of the name (i.e. miXEL). It's probably unnecessary, but it looks better with than without x3
Disclaimer: The Road to El Dorado and related awesomeness is © DreamWorks Pictures. Only the names of the two gods are mine… and I based them off existing Aztec gods, so… it's all a bunch of stolen- er, borrowed ideas really ^.~
Envoys of the Gods
"Mixél! It's your turn to watch El Dorado!"
The strumming of the mandolin didn't cease, and the bearded god reclining on a bank of cloud showed no sign of having heard. Tuloztequi raised his voice further.
"Mixél! MIXÉL!"
Finally the music stopped, and Mixelcoatl – to give him his full name – looked up.
"Already?" he complained, giving rise to the suspicion that he had been able to hear all along.
"Yes, already."
"But El Dorado is so boring!" protested Mixél, even as he stood up and walked over to sit by the other god. "I mean, it's a beautiful city, but nothing ever happens there. There's no adventure."
"Good," replied Tulo (to use the shorter nickname given him by Mixél). "Adventure is not something we need right now. Besides, we have to keep an eye on Tzekel-Kan. He has the potential to do some serious damage."
"Is he still going on about that Age of the Jaguar thing?" asked Mixél, peering into the 'window' in the clouds that Tulo had created, showing them the city of El Dorado. "The cleansing of the city and all that?"
"Yes, he is." Together the creators of El Dorado watched as Tzekel-Kan made another of his frenzied, doom-laden predictions about the 'Age of the Jaguar' and the supposed coming of the gods to El Dorado.
"And I thought Otul-kan was bad, coming up with all that crazy stuff about the Age of the Jaguar in the first place," said Mixél. "This guy is even worse! He actually believes it and is willing to do something to bring it about!"
"Exactly, which is why we need to watch him and make sure he doesn't harm El Dorado. Of course, it would be better if we could get rid of him altogether."
"And we can't just smite him?" asked Mixél, returning to an earlier topic of conversation. "We could strike him down with a lightning bolt; no one would have to know that the gods did it-"
"No," replied Tulo flatly. "We have - to be - subtle. Gods aren't allowed to involved themselves in human affairs, you know that."
"So we get someone else to do the dirty work for us?" summarised Mixél with distaste. Tulo smirked slightly.
"Basically."
Mixél sighed. "Sometimes I wish something bad would happen just to make things interesting," he grumbled. "Or that we could watch over a land with some exciting things happening. Like Spain!"
He positioned his finger over the clouds and traced circles in the air; the dense cloud became transparent, revealing a man astride a white horse making an announcement in the street. He had a goblet of water in one hand, and crowds of people were gathered around to hear what he had to say.
"Today, we sail to conquer the New World!" declared Cortez. "For Spain. For glory. For gold!" He thrust the goblet into the air as the crowds cheered and shouted.
"Viva Cortez!" A line of men in armour raised their rifles into the air and fired a celebratory rain of bullets. The shots startled Cortez' horse, which reared in fright. Cortez snarled and yanked on the reins.
"Al Tivo! Eyes forward," he ordered.
"Maybe it's Cortez we should be watching," suggested Mixél hopefully. "This 'New World' he's talking about is dangerously close to El Dorado."
Tulo dismissed this with a shake of the head. "He'd never find the entrance to the city even if it was right in front of him," he said. "We hid our paradise well. We need to focus on the dangers inside the city." He was attempting to bring the conversation back to its original track, but Mixél was no longer listening, distracted by what he was seeing through the window.
"Tulo, look! Those two look just like us!"
Tulo frowned and peered over at the window, which showed a nearby but far more run-down alley, enclosed by high buildings on all sides. It was an ideal area to conduct shady deals and sordid business out of sight of the law, and that appeared to be what was going on.
"Seven!"
"All right!"
The red dice landed on the street, once again showing the magic combination of five and two. Two men, evidently gamblers on a winning streak, were dancing, celebrating their victory. One had long black hair tied back in a ponytail, and the other had shorter blonde hair and a beard. He was also strumming a mandolin.
"Not particularly," said Tulo, thinking that the mandolin was the main resemblance between Mixél and his mortal 'counterpart'. "They're definitely not gods, anyway."
Mixél smiled, his eyes still on the alleyway scene. "They don't seem to realise that."
Tulo shook his head and resigned himself to an extra-long shift of watching over El Dorado. He didn't understand his partner's fascination with mortals and their doings. Tulo watched people for a purpose, to solve a problem or prevent one from arising. Mixél just loved to watch people.
Tulo began banging his head against the palm of his hand, trying to think of a solution to the Tzekel-Kan problem. If the high priest had been a normal human, he wouldn't be such a threat, but all those of the Kan lineage had been granted special powers by the gods, in order that they might protect the city, and communicate with the inhabitants of the spirit world. The fact that he was something more than human fuelled Tzekel-Kan's dislike for ordinary people. He had begun to abuse his powers lately, and although he claimed to be 'speaking' for the gods and acting on their orders, in fact he was doing nothing of the sort.
"Tulo!" said Mixél suddenly, sharply. Tulo was annoyed at being interrupted, but something in Mixél's tone told him this was serious, and not just the interesting coincidence of two mortals resembling the gods.
"What?" he asked, examining the window without waiting for an answer. Now the two gamblers' attention was caught by a square of illustrated parchment, held up by a large, bald and rather dirty man. Tulo realised it was a map, and his eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the words 'El Dorado' written at the bottom. This was what had alarmed Mixél.
"A map of the wonders of the new world," said the man. The blonde gambler's interest was piqued.
"Wow! Let's have a look." He perused the map, muttering to himself in excitement, finally snatching it away and burying his head in it. His companion began to walk away, uninterested, but the blonde pulled him back, causing him to pitch headfirst into the map.
"Excuse us for one moment, please?" said the black-haired man to their opponents.
"Tulio, look!" said the fair-haired man, patting the map. "El Dorado – the city of gold. This could be our destiny, our fate."
"He sounds like you," commented Tulo dryly. "Destiny, fate, forces outside our control – even that of the gods!" He raised his eyebrows to show what he thought of that idea.
"Miguel, if I believed in fate I wouldn't be playing with loaded dice." Tulio opened his hand to reveal the red dice, still displaying the winning five and two.
"And he sounds like you," replied Mixél, amused. "Ever the voice of reason. Even their names are similar to ours!" His face was alight with excitement. The idea of gods remaining aloof, detaching themselves from earthly affairs, meant nothing to Mixél. He couldn't help but be interested in humans, always wanting to intervene, to help people.
"You want them to be the ones to go to El Dorado," said Tulo, staring at Mixél. He was only just catching on to his partner's train of thought, which as usual was running away with itself. "And get rid of Tzekel-Kan?"
"Well, why not?" pressed Mixél, warming to his idea. "They could pass for us! It's not like the citizens of El Dorado have ever seen what we look like. And it's not as if Tzekel-Kan has a genuine connection to the spirit world any more. He won't know the difference."
"Tzekel-Kan might be-"
"A madman," filled in Mixél.
"-misguided, but he's no fool. Whereas these men…" Tulo waved a hand at the window, where the gamblers were preparing to roll for the map – but using genuine, unloaded dice. It was possible that all this would come to nothing in just a few seconds.
Mixél could tell the direction of Tulo's thoughts. "All we have to do is tip the dice, to make sure they land on seven," he said. "From there we can let things take their own course, if you like!" He widened his eyes in a pleading expression.
"No, no, not the face! Stop it! We're not supposed to interfere with events in lands besides our own, unless it has a direct consequence for our domain." He could have been quoting straight from the Rulebook of the Gods. If there was such a thing.
"It could have a direct consequence!"
"Show… me… seven," ground out Tulio from between tightly-gritted teeth. He rolled the dice across the ground.
Mixél was still staring at Tulo, entreating him. "All right! Fine! Do what you have to do," said Tulo in exasperation, turning away to let Mixél know that he was having nothing to do with this. Mixél beamed, and from below came cries of surprise and delight.
"SEVEN!"
"All RIGHT!"
"If anyone asks about this, I saw nothing. And all I heard was your usual crazy talk," said Tulo, still with his back turned. Even when he didn't agree with what Mixél was doing, they were still partners – in it together.
"They won't ask," said Mixél confidently, leaning back against the clouds once more. "It's only dice! You worry far too much."
"You can never worry too much," replied Tulo, as always.
The day wore on, and even Tulo became bored with watching affairs in El Dorado progress like clockwork. Tzekel-Kan had subsided, and was now closeted back in his cave-like personal quarters, offering up chants and prayers to the gods. Tulo had tuned out after yet another entreaty for the gods to hand over power from the 'unworthy non-believer' (meaning Chief Tanabok) to the 'truly faithful' (meaning Tzekel-Kan) when they finally made their appearance in El Dorado.
Mixél was still absorbed in watching the escapades of the two gamblers. Judging by his exclamations and occasional commentary, their fortunes had taken an interesting turn since gambling for the map, and they were now prisoners aboard the ship of – who else? – the ruthless warlord Cortez. There was probably irony in that somewhere.
As night fell in Spain and their mortal counterparts slept, Mixél began strumming his mandolin again. In El Dorado, it was still early afternoon, and yet Tulo didn't ask Mixél to take over the watch. There really was nothing happening… and anyway, it was such a nice peaceful tune… it wasn't worth starting up another argument.
The afternoon sun lit up the deck of Cortez' ship with a golden glow, and Al Tivo the war horse looked up expectantly as the ship's cook passed by, whistling and carrying a basket of apples.
"Hey, Al Tivo! Ah-ta-ta-ta, not for you. You're on half rations! Orders from Cortez."
One of the apples slipped from its perch on top of the pile and fell down through the grate, into the brig – straight into the lap of Miguel, causing him to wake with a start. He stared at it for a second, and then looked over at Tulio, who was rhythmically banging his head against a post, as he was wont to do when trying to think of a plan.
"So how's the, er, how's the escape plan coming?" asked Miguel tentatively. Tulio paused and turned his head to reveal a black eye for his troubles.
"All right. All right, wait! I'm getting something!"
"Yeah."
Tulo watched this scene from over Mixél's shoulder, and shook his head. "Those two are never going to get out of there like that."
Mixél smiled, and Tulo felt a sudden sense of foreboding. "It's funny you should say that, because I was thinking exactly the same thing!" Tulo instantly recognised the tone Mixél used when he was trying to get something he wanted. "Would it really be interfering if we just helped them out a little, like, say-"
Tulo didn't even let him complete the sentence. "Yes. It would."
"Really?" Mixél made The Face again, but Tulo wasn't budging this time.
"Yes, really." Mixél tried different variations on The Face, from waggling his eyebrows to sticking his bottom lip out and pretending to start crying, but all to no avail. Eventually he gave up and turned back to the window. The two swindlers were really at their last resort: Miguel had his face pressed to the bars of the grate, trying to bargain with the horse Al Tivo and persuade it to bring them a pry-bar in exchange for the apple. As Mixél (and Tulo, whilst trying not to look too interested) watched, the horse cantered away and made straight for the cabin belonging to Cortez himself. The door to the cabin was propped open, exposing a row of hooks nailed to the inside, on which hung several rings of keys. Unnoticed by the rest of the crew, Al Tivo stretched up and closed his teeth around one of the rings, gently easing it up and over the hook.
"Mixél!" said Tulo sharply. "That definitely counts as interfering!"
"What?" asked Mixél in genuine confusion. "I didn't do anything, I swear!"
Tulo stared dumbly at the horse, which was now trotting back to the grate with the keys in its mouth. It dropped them through the bars and neighed proudly; Tulio and Miguel gaped down at the keys with equal surprise.
"Well," said Tulio finally. "It's not a pry bar."
Miguel shrugged.
"…That's one smart horse," commented Tulo. Mixél grinned as if he'd just received a personal compliment.
"He is, isn't he? I knew it as soon as I saw him."
Tulo rolled his eyes. "I'll bet you did."
Unfortunately, it appeared that the horse wasn't quite smart enough to know that he needed to keep quiet whilst the fugitives, under cover of night, crept out of the brig and began loading a small longboat with rations. The horse started by nudging the blonde mortal – Miguel – urgently from behind; when that didn't work, he reared up on his hind legs, neighing loudly. Tulo tried not to show that he was watching as the scene unfolded before them, not that Mixél would have noticed one way or another; he was too engrossed, leaning over the cloud-window and muttering, "He wants the apple! Give him the apple!"
"Oh! He wants his apple," Miguel realised.
"Well, give it to him before he wakes up the whole ship!" Tulio took the apple and tossed it high into the air. "Fetch!"
The apple flew into the air, then somehow contrived to fall onto a sail and bounce off it – narrowly missing a sleeping guard – hit the top of a second sail, rebound off that, then whirl around on the end of a telescope for a second before plunging over the side – right past the slowly-escaping Spaniards.
"Okay, don't try to tell me you didn't have anything to do with that one," said Tulo. Mixél looked at him and grinned sheepishly.
"It was just a little bit of fun. I hardly even had to do anything! I just wanted to see if I could make it hit–"
He was interrupted by a loud splash from the world below them. Mixél turned back to the window in alarm, and Tulo discovered that the speech he had preparing on 'The Consequences Of Interfering With The Mortal World – Yes, Even A Little Bit' was unnecessary as said consequences were being enacted below them – and it didn't look good.
"This is terrible!" exclaimed Mixél. "I have to–"
"Oh, no you don't," interrupted Tulo.
"What? But I can't just sit and–"
"Yes, you can."
"Are you even going to let–?"
"No, I'm not going to let you finish your sentence."
A glaring contest between the two gods ensued, which Tulo broke by being the one to draw Mixél's attention to the window, instead of the other way around, for the first time. "Look! See, the situation resolved itself."
Mixél peered suspiciously at the window, not believing it until he saw for himself that the two mortals and the horse were now safe and sound, reclining wet and exhausted but alive in the bottom of the boat. His face cleared immediately. "Ah! Well, then! All's well that ends well." He picked up his mandolin and began strumming it.
"Did any of the supplies make it?"
"Well um… yes and no."
Tulo glowered at him. His friend's relentless optimism often got on his nerves, not least because he never seemed to learn from his mistakes.
"Ohhhh, GREAT!" Tulio exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air and then burying his face in them.
Tulo knew just how he was feeling. Maybe the two mortals were more like himself and Mixél than he'd first thought.
"Tulio, look on the positive side! At least things can't get any–"
With impeccable comic timing and unnatural suddenness, a tremendous downpour started – as if someone up there just couldn't resist proving Miguel wrong.
The strumming ceased abruptly. "TULO!!" came the indignant shout.
Tuloztequi flopped back onto a large cloud and laughed his head off.
Author's Notes: And there you have it. Stay tuned for more… when I can be bothered to write it. x3 Also, I have a question which might seem kind of stupid, but I can't decide – how much like Miguel and Tulio should the two gods look? Because in the opening animation they're shown as having purple skin, hair, etc… do you think they really look like that, or is that artistic license?