[Author’s note: I FINALLY GOT THE NEXT CHAPTER FINISHED!!! YAY!!! Sorry it took so long! Lord willing, Hector and his pals will have completed their mission by the end of this summer. If I delay, feel free to nag me about writing whenever you see me.]

“A theologian, a judge, a business owner, and an tzulik walk into a bar.”

“What the-”

“Shut up for a second. You’ll see how this makes sense in a bit.”

“Uh, all right then?”

“Anyways. You’ve got these four different guys in a bar. The bartender asks them, ‘What will you fellows order?’ The theologian responds, ‘I strive to order and fill all of Creation.’ The judge says, ‘I order my court.’ The business owner says, ‘I order supplies for my business.’ The tzulik says, “I order this glass of water to transform into fine bourbon.’ And suddenly, the water turns into bourbon, and the entire bar collapses into sand.”

Goonda burst out laughing uncontrollably. A very confused Hector covered his ears against the awful noise and tried to discern any purpose or meaning that might lie in the ancient Mayan’s joke. A tzulik… Goonda had used the word in a similar sense to “wizard” or “magician.” Hector understood- or thought he understood- the basic principle of the joke. The tzulik can repair one thing by destroying something else… right? But transforming water into bourbon (and why Goonda had chosen bourbon specifically, Hector couldn’t imagine) didn’t seem to be repairing or ordering.

The Arch-Shaman recovered his solemnity and, seeing Hector’s bewildered face, attempted to explain. “My point is, a tzulik can do a lot with Order and Chaos. More than simply healing one thing and dissolving another. Transmutation, physical manipulation of objects from afar, even instantaneous travel- it’s all possible, or so I’ve heard.”

“And I’m going to learn all of that?”

Goonda chuckled in his grating way. “Hector, if I were to teach you those things, you’d be sitting here for the next 200 years, at the least. But don’t worry,” he continued as Hector began to reply. “The simple transfer of Order and Chaos isn’t so bad. I mastered basic dissolution in four days, and the other tzuliks mocked me for being so slow.”

Hector basked in the beauty of their surroundings while Goonda talked. They were outside, halfway up the mountain that Yogwo called home. A near-undetectable breeze whispered secrets to the tall pines that surrounded them as the trees drank their fill of the warm morning sunlight.

They would be leaving this beauty, and leaving it soon. Hector wasn’t looking forward to that, but Yogwo had suggested they head for Flores’ supposed location in one week. That meant being packed into a tiny car with a Spirit-Healer and an impossibly old man on a drive that was bound to last several hours at least.

Hector was not looking forward to that, either.

He turned his attention back to Goonda, who was stooped over, collecting a pile of something from the ground. Rocks?

“Okay, Hector, your training begins now. I want you to turn these rocks into dust.”

Hector stared at him in incredulity. “What?! But- but I- but you- but-” He sighed. “But I don’t know HOW!”

Goonda grinned. “Think about it. What am I asking you to do?”

“Turn rocks into dust,” Hector said flatly.

The Arch-Shaman groaned. “No.” He scratched his withered scalp. “Well, yes, but that’s not what I meant. Think about it from the perspective of Order and Chaos. Remember the analogy I told you yesterday? About drinking water?”

Yes, Hector did remember that analogy. He had never heard a more pitiful one. “Fine. Okay. So… I’m adding Chaos to the rocks? And that turns them into dust?”

Goonda shook his head. “Not exactly. Think of it not as adding Chaos, but as taking away Order. You aren’t adding air to a cup when you drink the water in it. You’re just taking away its water.”

The younger man sighed and turned his attention back to the pile of stones. All right, how hard can this be? If that old codger learned magic in four days, so can I. He focused every ounce of his mental capacities on the rocks. Then, with a mighty psychic thrust of power- Rocks, turn to dust!

Nothing happened.

Okay, so that’s not how I do it. Hector considered for a moment.

Rocks, I take your Order!

That didn’t seem to work either.

He tried inhaling sharply. Maybe I can suck in the Order or something?

The rocks didn’t move.

“Okay, Goonda, a hint of some kind would be pretty helpful right now.”

“Too bad.” The Arch-Shaman’s grin morphed into an evil smirk.

Muttering under his breath, Hector widened his eyes at the rocks.

Why am I even doing this? Maybe he’s playing tricks on me. The more he thought about it, the more Hector was convinced that it was so. They’re just rocks. They can’t dissolve at my command. Rocks can’t just… dissolve.

Unless… unless they could.

What is the inner structure of a rock? How is a rock ordered? Hector pondered this, and took the liberty of blinking for the first time in far too long.

“Molecules of… stone-” Hector didn’t know if “stone” was a chemical element or not, but he didn’t care- “bonded together… in a specific structure. A lattice, or a grid, or maybe just a mess of molecules all squished together.” He hoped it didn’t matter what kind of rock these were.

“Very clever.” Goonda was watching him with some interest.

Hector felt his face redden. “I said that out loud?” Focus, Hector, focus. “Now the structure breaks apart. The molecules unbind themselves and are split into individual atoms. The-”

Hector stopped breathing.

What had been a pile of rocks a second before now melted into a colorless, shifting substance that instantly disappeared into thin air. Apparently, the transition of the rocks from solid to gas was immediate, because there was nothing left of the stones. Hector gawked at the empty patch of ground.

“Did- did I do that?”

Goonda cackled in a rare moment of excitement. “You sure did! I knew you could all along. Although I must say, your method of contemplating the individual molecules involved… that was quite unique. I’ve never heard of that being done.” He paused. “Come to think of it, us Mayans didn’t know what a molecule was, so I suppose that’s to be expected. But no matter.”

Hector was hardly listening. “I did it. I actually did it.” A strange feeling rose in his chest- achievement? Jubilance?

No. Power.

True, he knew almost nothing about this “magic.” He had only used it once, it hadn’t been quick, and the result wasn’t all that impressive. But, he could turn rocks into dust. And that was better than nothing. Not everyone can do that, eh?

Goonda scratched his head. “Honestly, Hector, I thought it’d take you longer than that. ” His voice was more confused than it was proud, but regardless, Hector took the statement as a compliment.

“What do I do next?”

“Well, I was talking to Yogwo yesterday, and he wanted to have a part in your training. So, I agreed to let him give you some suggestions.”

Hector blinked. “But he can’t do- he isn’t a tzulik, or whatever you call it.”

“And?”

“Good point.” Hector glanced up the mountain’s slope towards the run-down wooden structure that the Grand Shaman lived in. “Where is he, anyways? Out on one of his Spirit-Healing jobs?”

“Nah,” Goonda replied offhandedly, following Hector’s gaze. “As far as I know, he’s reading up on snake charming.”

“Snake char- oh.” With all this about magic, Hector had almost forgotten about the stone-sleepers living in Serpentemple. But they were vital. In fact, getting one of those snakes was probably more important than developing his newfound powers as a tzulik. Apparently, once Flores became immortal, he couldn’t just be turned into sand. They would need something else to defeat him.

Which made it handy that Goonda was capable at snake whispering, or rather, snake whistling. After a few unearthly shrieks through yellowed teeth, he had gotten the stone-sleeper that had attacked Flores’ henchman to follow him home, docile as a well-trained pet. Yogwo had been taking care of the killer snake since then. He thoroughly enjoyed the responsibility and had christened the creature “Ike.” They seemed to have developed a strong relationship.

“That kid has great promise,” Goonda said proudly. “It’s why I chose him as my apprentice, you know. He’ll make a fine Arch-Shaman someday. Once he gets a little more experience, I may help him reach arcanity.” He turned to Hector. “However, it takes so long to master magic that it’s hardly worth it unless you’re a half-death. If we- no, once we take down Flores- would you mind if I give Yogwo some of your fern… concentrate?”

“Of course not.” Hector would hate to have eternal life if his only immortal companion was Goonda. Not that he didn’t like the old man- the Arch-Shaman was a mentor and a friend. But it would be nice if Yogwo was a half-death. Ya know, Goonda can be a bit… tiring sometimes. Yogwo is much more amiable.

Now that Hector thought about it, the idea was strange. Out of all people, I most want immortality given to a half-insane hippie cultist who’s addicted to marijuana.

But what about Dante?

The thought came unbidden to Hector’s mind. Dante- who, just a few weeks ago, had been his only true friend. Dante, who had saved Hector from the ruthless Flores back in the mountain compound. Dante, who himself had narrowly avoided death on several occasions since the discovery of the fern.

Dante, who Hector had almost completely forgotten.

The thought stung, but Hector couldn’t deny it. Hopefully, I’ll meet him again someday. But if Flores had learned what Dante had done to save Hector-

No. He stopped that train of thought abruptly. Hector would see Dante again, he was sure of it.

He just didn’t know when.

***

Time crawled by. The wind ran, exuberant, through shaking treetops. The summer drew nearer to its end. Leaves darkened, imperceptibly, and the Earth spun on. The moon’s ivory smile broadened in its ebony wrappings. Planets circled their burning mother star. Constellations rose and set.

Six times the Earth revolved in its cosmic dance. Six sunrises soaked golden light into the land, which later drained into six sunsets.

Six days passed.

And all the while, Hector trained.

The work was hard- grueling, even. It wasn’t physical, not in the common sense of the word, just incredibly, overwhelmingly, impossibly frustrating. Hector’s training mostly consisted of staring wearily (and more than a few times, angrily) at some random object that his cultist friends brought to him. Sticks. Rocks. A paper bag. Fingernail clippings. Once, Yogwo proudly presented Hector with a small lizard in a cardboard box. (“Don’t dissolve the box, bro,” he had instructed Hector, grinning manically. “Just do it to the lizard.” Hector had been horrified and appalled.)

Despite the anger, the failure, and the disappointment that blocked Hector’s path to power so many times, Hector’s abilities grew. At day five, dissolving things had become easy (well, easier). But Hector wasn’t just growing in his powers as a tzulik. Each new sunrise looked upon a young man progressing farther and farther from the corrupt drug dealer he once was, into someone else. Someone better.

Then, the seventh sunrise came. The day that signaled the end of Hector’s training.

The day that the three unlikely friends would set out to find Flores.