Ember of a New World (29 page)

*  *  *

Ember nearly screamed as the arrow moved through the bush, slowly, and then up as its owner stood. The fear from the arrow stayed her tongue as she slowly came to realize who the
bowman was
. The man, barely a man by his youthful features, was about Embers age and about her height. He looked as he had when they had first met, about three ten-days ago. He still wore his leather boots, leggings, breechcloth, over shirt, and a tuft of dark hair, barely kept. When his dark eyes leveled with Ember's, fear rolled through her body dancing up and down her spine. The man slowly walked from behind the bush keeping his stare leveled at Ember. Watching the sharp flint arrow head and the drawn bow made Ember feel panic all over. The need to lower herself towards the ground in fear came upon her and she slowly crouched holding her hands out in front of hersel
f, as though warding him back.

The cowering was a natural submissive instinct Ember could not yet resist, though a building anger deep within her was starting to push aside such primal instincts. Anger was again slowly filling her veins. She wanted to run, but she knew that she couldn't outrun this hunter, especially in a leather skirt. The man opened his mouth a lit
tle and issued a single sound.

“Shh
,
” he whispered, emphasizing his bow with his eyes. The message was clear to
Ember;
don't speak if you wish to live
, but would she be allowed to live anyway, if she went with him? Her thoughts were answered when Calpano moved into sight from behind
another
tree and leveled a deadly stare at her. A tear
welled in
her eye and
rolled down
her cheek. S
uddenly
,
Rosif
stepped
into view. His expres
sion was the opposite of hers.

Rosif, though she didn't know his name, was as large as she remembered, but now he wore a loose loin-cloth-like apron over his
wounded groin
. His previous breechcloth was too tight for the incredibly painful injury Ember had given him; the injury which had left him less than he was before and barely able to urinate. His look told Ember her fate before he said anything. She would not just die, no, this man meant to hurt her in as horrible of a way as he could think of. Her only saving grace was his inability to do anything more ghastly because of the injury she had given him. The men were closing
in
, and
the
youngest
hunter stood
not
the length of a man from her.

Ember tried to stand fully once more but found her legs too weak, and so she half-stood in a cower. Ember struggled hard against her fear trying to master it as another tear rolled down her cheek. She had to kill or be killed, but could she do what was needed? Didn't the rabbit in the trap fight as fierce as a wolf? The younger man stopped advancing and watched Ember with a curiously confused look on his face. He seemed almost attached to Ember's emotions the way his expression seemed to waver in tune wi
th hers. The blonde haired man,
Calpano
if she remembered
, whom she had made ill with the poisoned food, kept an eye out for the other women, who were not so far away, while the ever manically smiling Rosif advanced
with a visible limp
. Calpano had thought this revenge a poor idea and merely wanted it done and finished, ho
wever so, as soon as possible.

Ember watched in panic as Rosif advanced. She held on to her anger, pulling at it, forcing it to the surface. She would need anger if she was the survive this. Rosif towered over Ember when he came to a halt.
“Please... I didn't mean...” she started to plead out of desperation, but stopped as she remember that these men didn't understand her. Besides, she had meant to cut him. Her anger flared in response to her momentary weakness. She stared at Rosif head-on.

You deserved it too
, she thought, anger slowly creeping in,
slowly starting
to outmatch fear... ever so slowly
the fire became hotter
. The look of perverse pleasure in Rosif's eyes told her
that
he didn't care, regardless. He reached forward and grabbed Ember by the hair and pulled her fully to her feet. Ember let loose a horrific scream as tears flowed from her eyes. The youngest hunter grabbed a hold of Rosif's arm and pulled trying to keep him from yanking Ember's hair so hard. Rosif threw the young man's arm aside with a sneer and spoke to him in his language as he reached forward and pulled Ember's obsidian blade from her side.

*  *  *

Pak grabbed at Rosif's arm, his emotions taking hol
d. Rosif glared at him angrily.

“Let me go before I kill you too! The little beast needs to die. But I'm not doing it fast, no...
She
will suffer like I did... like we all did!” Rosif said, and with that he yanked her hair
again producing another scream.

*  *  *

The brush parted as
Kis’tra
and Kat'ja appeared. A moment later
,
Ena
burst through the bushes on the other side with a circular flint
knife
in her hand. The three women had heard Ember and come to see the problem. Now they stood at a distance, too frightened to advance as two of the hunters before them leveled bows their way. Their round stone knives were made for cutting and not for stabbing.

*  *  *

Rosif laughed and smiled at Ember, wagging his finger and
scolding in a mocking manner.

“No, you won't get away this time. Perhaps we will take these women to make up for our lost time
,
” he said
while licking his lips
, though Ember didn't understand hi
m. This time Calpano spoke up.

“We have no need for women. She has wronged us, not these women. You will not harm them. Take her and we will leave before their men come.” Pak thought this sound advice, but he couldn't speak as his mind was racing through thoughts he couldn't quantify. He understood Rosif's anger, but his heart ached each time that girl's hair was pulled. Seeing her face in pain caused him to choke, his eyes holding back tears. He felt
a lump growing in his throat and
empathy
for her which didn't make sense to him.

Pak kept evaluating the events that had occurred and trying to find her fault in them. She could have killed him while he slept, but she had merely wanted to leave. Rosif wanted revenge for the wound and the warm ice, a rare item, she had stolen, but did he really care about Rosif's revenge? Pak was starting to have second thoughts. Now that he thought about it, Pak realized that Rosif had not actually acted sane once in a ten-day or more. Pak's morals started to weigh in heavily, and he began to realize that lying to one's self was all too easy.

*  *  *

Rosif pointed at the three women and gave Pak and Calpano the nod to capture them. Calpano shook his head and yelled something at Rosif, which Ember didn't understand, but a moment later Rosif replied with something hateful at Calpano and the Pak. He pulled Ember's hair, producing another pain-laden yelp from her, and started dragging her by the hair, making to leave before men came. This was it, she thought, she would either do something now or be a captive again.

No!
She would not be a captive. She would rather die she decided, but she would hurt this one first.
He would need another lesson.

Ember walked behind the large man, being
led
by her long waist length hair. Rosif held the hair at the center and not near the roots. With such long hair, she had enough room to move a little, and so she moved forward and planted her left foot into the ground right behind Rosif and kicked with her right foot straight up between his legs and into the same place she had once before attacked. Her feet were not so strong or very big, but they were pointy and her target was quite large. Her foot made contact about the moment her hair pulled tight, the slack having run out. Ember was suddenly yanked forward falling to her knees with a scream, which continued even af
ter her mouth shut...

N
o, th
at was another women screaming,
she thought.
Ember looked up worried for her friends before she saw that source of the scream was a very large man, also on his knees in front of her. Rosif was holding himself with tears in his eyes and blood running down his leg from a freshly opened wound. The scream sounded much like the woman's scream she had thought she had heard the night she es
caped Rosif the first time...

Ember quickly stood and started to back away when Rosif's whimpers suddenly turned to laughing
;
crazed laughing. Both of the other hunters looked upon him with fearful expressions as he slowly stood and turned towards Ember. Blood rolled down his legs as he smiled at her. His manic expression told Ember all she needed to know. He had been pushed too far for mere pain and now would conclude this encounter without the need to take her anywhere. He would kill her here and now. Rosif wasted no words pulling free the obsidian dagger, her dagger, and came at her. Ember shrieked and fell backwards, tripping in her quick motion to back away from the massive man. He was on her in an instant, arm plunging downward with the dagger. The next moment he collapsed on top of Ember with the dagger in his hand and a scream from his mouth... and stopped moving. The wind was blown out of Ember's lungs and blackness and stars filled her vision as Rosif landed up
on her with all of his weight.

A few moments later, Ember opened her eyes and looked into his. He was dead and with a bewildered look on his face. His eyes looked at Ember with confused hate as his pupils slowly dilated. Ember rolled the large man off of her, a difficult task as he had nearly crushed her with his massive form, and crawled away grasping at her obsidian dagger more confused than ever. As she stood, the culprit became clear for Rosif had an arrow shaft protruding from the base of his skull. It had severed his spine and instantly killed him. Ember looked up to see the youngest hunter standing with a pained look in his eyes. In his hands, a loosed bow waited for a new arrow. He had killed his leader.

Through the woods, the sound of men from the camp could be heard. They were coming to hear what had befallen their women. The younger man looked at Ember, and she could see the pain in his eyes. This man had clearly lost his mind and the young hunter had done what needed to be done
,
but at what cost? She knew not of his relation with the old man, but the shocked look on Calpano's face told her of the enormity of this event. She had been right when she had first guessed that he was not in agreement with her capture. As the men were heard coming off in the di
stance, she touched her chest.

“Ember
,
”
she said. He gave her a weak nod.

“Pak
,
” he replied. With that, he and Calpano turned and moved off into the deep woods disappearing quickly. Pak turned only once more to regard those deep green eyes. He would remember those
eyes for the rest of his life.

Perhaps we will meet again Ember
, he thought.

Ember had made some interesting changes, becoming more like a hunter and warrior in some respects. The idea of a female warrior or hunter is not actually a new concept. Female warriors have existed throughout time and are documented within recorded history. Many cultures have featured proud female warriors, such as the Scythians, Picts, Iranians, general Celtic Peoples, and a host of other groups. Sometimes these women were special people who rose above the standard roles of women, and
sometimes
their respective cultures allowed for women t
o generally attain such posts.

In the early Neolithic period of Europe, warriors were probably not very common given the overall lack of fortified dwellings early in the
period;
though it is likely some warriors did exist. The role of tribal defense was probably the job of hunters, mostly men. It is possible that some women may have attained the social rank of hunter or even warrior in some special cases. Though no body of evidence of this exists, the possibility may be inferred by the general existence of such practices within the descendants of the same Neolithic peoples
,
in later times.

That night, the attack on Ember was the talk of the dinner. No one addressed Ember directly as speaking to her about it before she had indicated she was ready to speak was improper to these people. They spoke in their own language, amongst themselves. Ember couldn't understand them, but she knew what they spoke of by their tones.
Kis’tra
assured her that it wasn't as much as she thought, but all she coul
d feel were eyes watching her.

After the men had arrived, led by Ven'Gar, Ember had convinced them not to follow the hunters. They found her
holding
her dagger
and standing over the body of a man
. The men were taken
a
back the by the scene. A woman, a single young woman had apparently defeated or driven off three hunters. Their leader was dead at Ember's feet, and none of the group had been harmed, aside from Ember. She had tried to explain that Pak had killed the man, but Ven'Gar and the other men were obviously impressed by her calm explanations and escape. The scene had confirmed her earlier story of her daring escape from the men
, which she had eventually told after she had become more comfortable with the people of Tornhemal
. Vengeance was her right alone, and she had forfeited this right, asking V
en'Gar to let the other men go.

What had amazed the men even more was Ember's insistence that she take a moment to sing a death song for the fallen man. Ember did not like him, but she was not sure she was comfortable with his violent death. Singing the death song would assure her that his spirit might find some sort of calm in the skies. Ember wondered if she was performing the ritual for the older dead hunter or out of some respect for the young hunter, Pak. After she finished the long mournful song, the
men had carried away the body.

Before the men buried Rosif's body, they had severed the hands and feet to render the spirit less deadly if it came calling after death. Spirits of the dead were a troubling thought, especially if that spirit belonged to the nameless brute
that
had attacked their women.

The attack
was not the
only
thing which
troubled Ember. After three ten-days with the people of Tornhemal, she knew it was time
to
decide what she would do. Ember had come to a hard but necessary decision as she sat by the fire eating. The camp had already begun preparations to leave for the south and would soon depart. More importantly
,
the boat was ready and had already proven river-worthy when Ember had used it two days before in the shallows of the river as a test.

Well, I guess I might as well get this over with
, she thought.

Ember stood and waited for everyone to notice and become silent, observing the customs of the group. Even
Kis’tra
was curious at the abrupt interlude. Most immediately expected her to present a short “good-bye” speech if such could be had with her small shared vocabulary. Ember looked at each member, avoiding Aya's icy looks, and settled her gaze on
Nor'Gar. She smiled and began.

“Ember, go-west, when no-snow. It soon, cold. Ember, go with, Tornhemal-people, south? Ember, go-North, go-West when warm”. She had asked to journey with the group all of the way to the south where they traded and remain during the cold season, and why not? The weather might hold out, but what would she find when she arrived? The entire journey was based upon a “sign”, for
whatever
that was worth, and Ember truly didn't know what to expect. Most likely
,
she would find some other tribe and be forced to join them out of necessity. In truth, she was starting to consider remaining with the people of Tornhemal instead of finishing her journey. Perhaps the cold seasons would give her time to come to terms with these thoughts. Ember stared at Nor'Gar, but her mind was elsewhere and Nor'Gar c
ould see it in her young eyes.

He once had a younger brother, much like Ember in many ways, who had moved on to another tribe to the south
east
of Tornhemal near the Great River. That was ten and another ten or more harvests before.

You are so much like him, I knew you were the one, Ember, from the start,
he thought,
I remember my vision even now all of these seasons past. You are just as you were then.

Nor'Gar let his mind flow back to when he had been young and had undergone a vision seeking trip at night into the woods north of Tornhemal. He remembered that experience as he looked into Ember's bright green eyes. He had walked onto a frozen lake in the dark without realizing it and had fallen in. Nor'Gar was young
and
inexperienced
,
but he was also
strong and brave. Seeing only icy blackness
,
he found the surface by the light of the moon. He had pulled himself from the water and quickly stripped from his clothing to get dry. Wet clothing was worse than no clothing as the air, cold as it was, would dry you more quickly. He was found curled into a ball by the lake not long after by another hunter group and brought back to the vil
lage, remarkably alive.

During the time he laid on the ice slowly freezing to death, he had a vision. A young woman with bright green eyes and long red hair came down from the moon and danced before him. She was nude but for her long fiery red hair, which touched the ground. After a short moment, she had come forward and gently kissed him. As their lips met, he
had felt warmth all over.

“I will return
,
” she had said, as she made her way back to the moon with a long flowing dance.

I remember you young dancer. I knew one day I would again meet you, though you do not know it. When that bright orb flew through the sky not long ago, I knew it would be soon. You have the spirit of the moon, the heart of a warrior, and
luck
about you
, he thought wistfully.
That is why I have made my decision
. Nor'Gar knew that his vision might easily have been the result of the cold slowly taking his life and that coincidence was a part of life, but he couldn't help but
wonder if this truly was fate.

“Ember, work hard. Ember defend Tornhemal-people. Ember-have he
art-of-Warrior. Yes, you-come, Warrior Ember
.
” The wording was terrible, given the language barrier, but Nor'Gar said it with what might have been almost an affectionate look in his eyes. There were general gasps among the people. No woman had ever been called a hunter, let alone a warrior! Ember felt her emotions roaring up at being so accepted by these people, but she held her eyes firm with a deep breath. She didn't know what to make of being called a warrior. Was he joking? Ember was a woman and couldn't be a warrior, at least amongst her people, or any other people she had heard of or met. The mood was interrupted when Aya, having seen the way Nor'Gar was so attached to Ember, stood sudden
ly and walked away to her hut.

Nor'Gar closed his eyes as she left and hoped he might be able to do something about that problem.

Ah to be so young and so stupid
, he thought
with true envy and a chuckle.

“What-of, boat?” Ember asked, almo
st apologetically, to Nor'Gar.

“Boat fine!” butted in Sv'en, “Birds, squirrels, no use
.
” His ability to tell a joke, even with a fifty word vocabulary of a foreign language was quite impressive as the laughter around the fire told. Then it was settled, Ember the Warrior, would journey south and return in the warm season by this same route, so she wouldn't become lost. Traveling on land was too dangerous alone, another reason she would return with this group. She would then continue her journey via boat. That night there was much food and dancing as eac
h person mentally prepared
for the journey. Ember sat with
Kis’tra
by the fire thinking and watching peopl
e dance.

Am I, Ember the woman, now Ember the warrior?
she thought
.
A warrior? Was he joking? He didn't perform any rituals
. Ember created a mental image of herself wearing full warrior regalia of colorful body paints, feathers, and sporting a massive spear. The thought made her giggle until the images of Rosif returned. Ember thought again of Rosif's hand-less and footless body being pulled away, to a nearby valley, stripped, and quickly painted with ash. He was buried that same day in a very shallow grave without any weapons or tools of his trade,
whatever
that had been. To do so worried Ember greatly as spirits wouldn't look favorably on people who sent them off with nothing. Sv'en and Tor'kal had insisted that this be done with dishonorable enemies.

Enemies
..., which
must make me a warrior. Only a warrior would walk around with “enemies” doing battle,
she thought
.
She felt a little bad, even for Rosif, but she was relieved by the end of that affair. That night, Ember thought of Pak, the only one of the hunters she knew
for sure
by name, and how “evil” he really was. In reality, Ember was starting to see that evil was less defined and more a point of view. Pak could just as easily have killed her. Pushing her thoughts aside she threw her hands into the air and danced around the fi
re with the rest of the group.

The next morning, the group pulled down their huts and prepared to leave. Disposable wares, such as the r
eed mats, were being dispersed
on the growing plots to aid them as they decomposed. Poles and specially shaped rocks, too heavy to
carry,
were placed in stock piles as sheltered as possible to wait until they next returned. Not much pottery was left, for the people of Tornhemal were not very skilled or advanced with pottery. Ember would soon need to teach them a thing or two about pot making. Her
people
and most of the other tribes to the
east
created beautiful pottery with rich vivid details. Her tribe created clayware with black lines, which zigzagged and circles around the rim, much like the circles she applied to her face with soot. Ember had recently taken to using oily soot to apply color to her face as the other women of the group did. The people of Tornhemal didn't wear much body coloring, but Ember had recently coated herself in a rich red color made from berries, with zigzagging lines. With thoughts of painting, colors, and pottery, Ember went about her chores helping prepare for the trip south.

As she worked, Ember thought about the predicament the women had been in when confronted by men with bows. The women had merely carried simple rounded knives, good for cutting plants. While ready to cut even the mightiest plant, none of the women had any real defensive tools. They had been totally at the mercy of the men. If Ember was truly a warrior, should she not learn how to use a bow? She had fired a bow before. Most of the women had used a bow to shoot fish
or very
small game. A small light game bow was much different from the heavy bows men used to kill deer, and on occasion, each other. Ember grimaced at the thought, but the world was as it was and she had to either learn to defend herself or fall. Ember decided at that moment to ask one of the men of Tornhemal to instruct her in archery. As the thought occurred, she caught sight of Tor'kal carrying furs towards a larger pile of trade wares, to be packed. Ember took a deep breath
and approached the hunter...

Before the
mid-day
meal, the entire camp, now twenty-two “trad
ers”, were
ready to move. Ember was impressed by how fast these semi-nomadic people could become ready to leave. Each person now made their way around the camp site looking for anything unfinished or potentially left behind. Leaving something behind was a common human trait and always a pain. Most people owned few personal possessions and those who did kept them, generally, in their huts. Borjk had assured Ember that back at Tornhemal, a village larger than Ember's, each person ha
d left their best possessions.