Revolutions

29 - Walumaq

WARNING: GRAPHIC SCENES OF VIOLENCE

Fire erupts from the wooden building, flames shooting up into the darkening sky, as men and women scatter about the scene. My brother, Pahua, slowly walks toward the burning home, mesmerized by the devastation in astonishment. I start to run after him, prepared to pull him away from the chaos, but retreat behind the cart when a group of people wearing red cloth across their faces, masking their identity, engage with him with an animated discussion.

Realizing I need to get closer to hear what they're saying, I locate an entryway to a neighboring building. Though it appears vacant, I can't determine if anyone is inside, or if it's being damaged by the flames next door. However, there's no telling how long the group will be distracted, and sounds of the screams and demolition make it too difficult to hear anything they're saying.

Seizing the opportunity, I sprint across the street, tripping on an ill-fitting stone from the road, and stumble into the adjacent building. The residents have vacated the property, knocking over furniture and having their clothing and personal items strewn about the floor in their hurried escape from the neighboring fire. I spot a knocked over table and drag it close to the entrance to provide me with a little more cover as I attempt to eavesdrop and identify the people speaking to Pahua. I search for a container or some source of water, but nothing appears to me. I am eager to extinguish the flames, but can't see how I could immediately help.

After shouting something incoherent to one another, the group charges into the burning home while Pahua stands idly by, gawking at the devastation. I look on with nervousness, fearing for their safety as they run inside, hoping they're able to rescue anyone endangered by the burning destruction. Onlookers can only stand by helplessly, as we all wait to see if they reemerge.

I'm about to run into the street to grab Pahua and leave the scene, but something within me tells me to wait, to see how this plays out and why those people spoke only to him and not any of the other observers. There's a sinking feeling in my heart, recalling what I overheard Teqotlo and Aluxeqwel say at the uli-poq match about recruiting my brother into their ranks. Could these people not be rescuers, but insurgents?

No sooner than when the thought leaves me, I receive the unfortunate answer. Dragging a family out into the street, a man, woman, and two children are each bound and gagged, flanked by a person in the red cloth. While the crying children, no older than a half dozen or so harvests, remain relatively unscathed, the mother and father are badly beaten, blood streaming from their heads and staining their clothes scarlet. The man's eyes are swollen shut, bruises marking his face, and one of his arms dangles and bends abnormally, likely due to being broken. The woman's clothes are torn, exposing much of her battered body for all to see.

"You recognize them?" one of the red cloth figures says in a deep, ominous voice, looking at Pahua. With trepidation washing over his face, my brother nods, uttering something I can't distinguish. A crowd gathers around, shouts and protests rise above the roar of the flames. Yet when a few of the figures in red, wielding cudgels the size of a grown man's leg, stride over to some of the outspoken individuals, their looming presence is enough to stifle the dissent. Despite the light cast from the flaming building, it's difficult to ascertain whether these members' arms and legs are painted or entirely tattooed in black, and their heads are all shaved bald and painted black, whether man or woman. Torches in hand, they stand by one man, who I assume is their leader due to being the only person with numerous piercings adorning his ears. Besides the red cloth that covers his face, he wears a black cape draped over his left shoulder and a crimson red hip cloth, and stands much taller than the rest, puffing out his barrel-chested physique.

"Let it be known," the daunting figure announces, his voice booming like the crashing of waves during a storm, "to go against the Eye in the Flame is to deny the inevitability of what's to come. We are the keepers of the ancient flame, the guardians of the old ways, and we refuse to be silenced or forgotten. Our ancestors fought for the strength and sovereignty of our people, and it is our duty to honor their legacy. We have seen the rise and fall of oppressive rulers, and we refuse to be the bearers of another's burden.