Revolutions

38 - Inuxeq

I awaken to my head throbbing as particles float and settle around me, the only minutely pleasing sight among this hollow, empty chamber. Dried, red scratches crisscross my legs and lower back—was I dragged here?

Looking around the confines of the space, I'm awarded little room to maneuver and stretch out, constricted in my movements. Surprisingly, my hands and feet are unbound, granting me full access to my untied limbs. I deduce they weren't prepared for captives, which makes me wonder about the beheaded person I saw in the clearing. The walls are a dull adobe, nothing I'm familiar with in my native jungles, and sunlight is having difficulty finding any space to weave through, barely peaking beneath the heavy wooden door built into a thick wooden frame, as well as limited circulation that makes the air choking when breathed. That there's a door at all alerts me to no longer being in friendly Tuatiu territory—every entryway in our village is open to assist with air flow. Feeling around, the hard floor is made of dry dirt that's rough as I run my hands through it.

Muffled voices are involved in a heated discussion just outside this room, but it's a language unfamiliar to me. I press my ear to the door to hopefully hear better, but all I can distinguish are words similar to those used by Mexqutli in that hissing and stilted manner of speaking. So these must be Ulxa. Perhaps Achutli is correct—and Sianchu is right to have followed the Arbiter's orders—and the Ulxa are preparing an uprising? Those robes, and the frightening red cloth that obscured their faces, doesn't give me the impression these are regular Ulxa citizens, though. Unless there has been a recent change in their culture, this group seems to be a fractious segment of the faction.

I can make out three distinct voices, each emphatically debating a point or opinion, but standing not too far away. I check the door to see, on the off chance, if it will open, but it's shut solid, hardly budging—there must be a mechanism locking it in place.

Okay, new plan.

"Help!" I begin to shout, making my voice sound weak and weary. "I think there's something wrong with my leg! Help!"

The muttering on the other side of the door stops for a moment, then the urgent dialogue resumes. A loud clunk, followed by the creaking door startles me alert. I stand, crouched low with my fists out and ready to strike. Three silhouettes in robes appear, backlit by the bright sunlight. The moment one of the shadowy figures comes into range, I strike, swinging a right hook to his head. I catch him by surprise, and he stumbles into one of the other men as my unrelenting flurry of attacks force them back out the doorway. I continue to punch wildly—right hook, left uppercut, right hook, left jab, left hook, left hook—trying to create an opening between the men large enough for me to slip through.

Two large arms clamp around my arms and chest, restricting my movement. Lowering my stance, I crouch and drive my hips back, pushing against my captor, and swing my left arm and elbow back, hoping to land a blow, something, anything. In reaction, the person also steps back and crouches low in defense, giving me just enough space to slip out of his grapple. With his focus still forward, I strike him in the temple, then sweep the legs out from under him, toppling him to the ground.

Another attempts to grab me, clutching my left arm, but I strike the heel of my palm up and toward what I believe to be his nose. He falls backward, but he pulls me down along with him. I fight to break free, twisting and contorting my limb to loosen his grip, but he is steadfast, now holding onto me with both hands. I lift up my left leg, then bring it down hard and quick onto his stomach, and he lets out a tiny whimper. His grip releases me just enough that I can escape, sunlight caressing my face.

I begin to run, checking my surroundings and spotting multiple adobe huts sprouting out of the dry, arid landscape. I don't see any other figures in this camp, but it appears to have been constructed long ago, some of the exterior walls cracking and weathered. Are we still in Tuatiu? How far have I been taken?