Hello again! Geez, I wasn't expecting to finish this chapter this early.

Thanks for the reviews! thegirlfrombarcelona, thanks especially for pointing out the tense mistakes ^^ You see, I'm trying to get used to the past tense (I used to write in present), so this is why it kept changing. I'm trying to be more careful.

nikki-kun05, I... was thinking of another possible way, but it was too complicated. As Tulio being captive is easier and more intriguing, I'll be doing that x)

And as for the last thing... There is a song in this chapter. I don't urge you to listen to it specifically, but in case you wonder what is the song like, there is a link in my profile, so you can listen from there. Also, I might have some word confusions in this chapter - just so you know.

Enjoy! ^^

--

The first thing Tulio thought as he hit the water was that there was no survival from that, no way out. After all, the natives wouldn't be so afraid of the whirlpool for no reason. But even when the tide pulled at him harshly, he felt that the power was much less than what one could call deadly. It was as if the tide was going to emit him out from somewhere else, somewhere he wasn't quite sure about. He instinctively opened his mouth in surprise, and instantly gulped down a huge amount of water. Trying to fight down the dizziness that brought, he concentrated his mind on one action: swimming. Swim, he ordered his protesting brain and muscles over and over. This was the only thing that could help him now.

Swim, swim, swim.

As if concentrating on one action was not quite enough, a string of memories flooded to his mind at that time. He wondered vaguely if he was gonna die there after all. But the two faces that were dominant in his visions shielded him from that kind of thought.

Chel and Miguel.

Miguel...

A sudden pang twisted his heart as he thought about his friend and partner. They had not parted well - if that could be called a proper parting, of course. He never had a chance to confront him about his sudden coldness.

Although now, at the intersection of his memories of him and his new girlfriend, he began to sense something.

Was it possible that Miguel resented him for dating Chel?

He never had the chance to explain to his friend about all that, though he didn't know how he should explain such a thing.

But that could have been the trigger. He was the one who broke their promise to begin with. He had failed to his heart - leading to his failure at friendship.

In his state of mind, he had not cared for his surroundings, and therefore not realized the light that was approaching. With a sudden burst through splashing but miraculously still water, his lungs relieving the moment with elongated gasps, he resurfaced.

Before catching his breath properly, though, he heard the chinks of metal and a low, merciless laughter.

'Look what we have here, lads.'

He knew that voice, though he never thought he would hear it once again. He had hoped not to, anyway.

Tulio slowly raised his head to meet the eyes of Hernan Cortes and the smirking, nasty face of the ex-priest, Tzekel Khan.

--

In El Dorado.

What had been a cheery farewell party a few minutes ago had turned into a sorrowful mourning ceremony. Although attendance was not mandatory, almost all the village was present.

Miguel sat between the natives, looking vacantly at the thrones they were sitting, taking everything in rather slowly. He did not want to return there all by himself. The square was dominated by two colors other than gold now, pearly white and a soft, relaxing blue. Hardly a set of colors for mourning, Miguel thought involuntarily. He always thought that lamenting needed a darker, depressive color, so as to reflect the mood of the lamenters. This just didn't register as right to him. He wanted to protest, to tear the bright and cheerful colors, to replace everything with black instead.

But he didn't have the energy in him for it. He felt all hollowed out, as if nothing resided in him anymore.

He recalled the last moments of Tulio's last big plan. It had distracted Tzekel Khan enough for their own good, but the blond remembered how bright and clear his anger toward his un-suspecting ex-partner was, who had quickly followed his pace. His last glance at him before... that, was one of resentment and anger. He had thought then that he would never be able to forgive Tulio's words, his ignorance towards him in the presence of Chel.

Now that seemed just too meaningless. It was easier now to accept the possibility that Tulio didn't really mean those words, that his intention was only to make Chel come to Spain. Why was it only after losing him that he realized this?

Fresh tears sprang to his vacant eyes once again, and he tried to gulp them down now. He vaguely realized someone small sidling beside him.

'Is it gonna get any better?'

He turned slowly to meet Chel's gaze. She looked quite as hollow as he was, and her eyes were bloodshot, showing that she had shed the tears he was being so much of a coward to let go.

'I don't know,' he said truthfully. No need to say that it was gonna take an excruciatingly long time. They stood silent for a few moments.

'What are with those colors?' Miguel asked at last, not being able to hold the irritation away from his voice. He heard Chel's small smile.

'They represent how the people of El Dorado regard the... deceased person,' Chel's voice broke at the word. She continued after a little pause. 'White and gold to symbolize a pure soul... Blue means heavenly.'

Miguel stared at her, having never anticipated that. He then lifted his gaze to one of the pearly white veils flailing in the breeze like a ghost. Now his previous choice of colors seemed ridiculous. 'In our world, people use black in these ceremonies. To reflect their sorrow.' he mumbled. It seemed to be somehow easy to talk to Chel. Their pain complemented each other, seeming to form little webs of trust and renewed friendship around the two.

Chel didn't say anything to that. The next moment erased all the necessity for words, anyway, as a woman facing the crowd started singing what sounded like a lament. The other minute, two large drums joined in to the beat.

It was a soft, sorrowful, and excellent melody. One by one, the townspeople joined in with the singing. Chel was the last one to join, her voice a little stronger as she catches on.

The peaceful melody of the lament began to grow into Miguel, too. And as he watched the white and the blue veils flail almost to the rhythm of the drums against the night's bright stars, he felt sure that he would've joined in this song, too, if only he knew the words himself.

--

Okay. He had been in worse situations. Much worse situations, to be precise.

Never did he remember feeling such on edge, though.

And never had the con he was playing with was this much larger.

Cortes and his men had set out a camp near the fall and were taking the night out. Tulio sat in Cortes's tent with Tzekel Khan now as the commander was trying to decide what to do with the two.

The soldiers were far too close to the city. And with that sneak of a 'priest' with them, Tulio wasn't sure if the natives were in danger or not. He wasn't sure just how far could Tzekel Khan go to revenge the two so-called Gods and bring order - or in this case, destruction - to the people of El Dorado.

And he had to do something about it.

If someone had asked him a couple of days ago whether he would dare to confront Cortes and the Spanish armada in any means, he would have said a flat no, point blank. It was suicidal to even think about it.

But now...

The young Spaniard was surprised to find that he had changed noticeably during his stay in El Dorado. Where was his selfish, survival oriented, and possibly rational mind? Why was his more emotional part of the body in control now?

All he knew that after all he had been through in El Dorado and after all the kindness and acceptance of the native people there, he wasn't just going to surrender them into the hands of those merciless soldiers. He owed them too much to trap them in such a faith.

At that time, the quilt at the entrance of the tent was pulled aside and Cortes walked in, a calculative look on his face, as imposing as ever. He halted for a moment on the threshold, regarding the two men in front of him. At his presence, Tzekel Khan had immediately straightened from where he sat, eyes ablaze with a kind of fervor. Tulio, on the other hand, had shifted only very slightly, just acknowledging his presence, as if he considered himself as important as the conquistador. There was a glint of intelligence in his eyes, a glint that told Cortes he wasn't going to deal with any ordinary person, unlike the native.

And Cortes didn't like that a bit.

He made his way into the tent and took a seat across the two, still regarding them carefully. An awkward silence hung in the air as he pondered about his words, and then turned his attention to the stowaway who had escaped them a few days ago.

'How did you come here?'

Tulio waited a second himself before answering truthfully. 'I fell.'

Cortes was successful in hiding his frustration and disappointment. He expected something different from the man, something more intelligent. He tried a different way of approaching.

'When you boarded my ship, you had a friend. Where is he now?'

Cold and demanding. Tulio immediately recognized the inquisitive tone in the man's voice. His mind swiftly went over the possibilities: he couldn't tell Cortes Miguel's location, that was out of question. It would just serve to Tzekel Khan's needs if indeed the priest was plotting some kind of revenge. It seemed like his best option was to lie on his feet.

'We fell at the same time.' he responded in a blank voice, so devoid of emotions that he almost believed it himself. 'If he did not reemerge, I can only assume that he's...' He paused almost dramatically so that anything that he might have added wouldn't ruin his tone.

Before Cortes could say anything, a fierce hiss interrupted. 'I don't believe him.' Both the conquistador and Tulio turned to stare at the priest. 'My lord, he is lying. He is trying to save his own skin.'

'And what are you trying to do?' Tulio hissed back, unable to contain his pure dislike for the man. 'Prove it if you can. If you can make it into the city, that's to say.'

Seeing that Tzekel Khan's face shone bright red with those words, and having no patience for any arguments, Cortes interrupted. 'Why can't he go to the city? He told he is the high priest there.'

Oh. The funny part. Tulio actually tried his best not to smirk. 'A disgraced high priest. The townspeople banished him from the city.'

'You seek revenge.'

It was more like a statement than a question, filled with knowledge and experience. Tzekel Khan turned to face Cortes. 'I don't seek no revenge, my Lord. I just want to show the people what genuine faith is. And serve to your best interests.'

This time Tulio couldn't help a laugh, but managed at the last second to pass it as a cough. He wondered whether this man would regard every single foreigner as a God.

'If you wish to enter the Golden City,' he spoke before the other two could say anything more, stressing the word 'golden' especially to pique Cortes's interest. 'You will do better with the cooperation of the people.'

He stopped there to see whether he would fall for it or not. Cortes seemed to be struggling with the concept. Then, his curiosity winning out, he asked. 'And how do you think we can make the people cooperate?'

Tulio leaned a bit forward as he replied to that, looking directly at the man's eyes. 'The people of the El Dorado consider me some kind of deity. Let me go and persuade them, then you can easily conquer the city.'

--

Please don't forget to R&R ^^