by Watson, Tom
Obsidian, really volcanic glass, was black with a smooth dull shine. Obsidian could slice razor-sharp cuts with very little pressure. The blade, a dagger really, was heavy in her small, but nimble, hands. Ember carefully used the dagger and slid it back into its sheath. The dagger had belonged to her father, Winterborn, and had been in his hand when he fell in battle. Ember was proud to carry the dagger on her long journey.
Bare from hair to toe, except for her leather belt and a small strip of leather, she strode into the water with an ad hoc fishing spear. Ember's task came to her naturally but only due to a lifetime of practice. Fishing with a spear was a complex task which required time. Performing this action in a pond or lake was very difficult due to the fish noticing the huntress. A river always moves, allowing Ember to stand still and let the fish swim near her. The problem was seeing the fish and actually hitting it. Luckily, Ember was an excellent fisher. The light was leaving fast when a fish finally got close enough to spear.
If only a deer or rabbit would swim by I'd have a real meal, she thought.
Rivers were populated with many spirits. Spirits of the dead, spirits of animals, and of the water element itself. The water spirits tricked the eyes, making you think a fish was in a different place than it really was. Being an experienced spear fisher, Ember knew not to aim for the fish, but for a place right beside it where the fish really was. Even better, Ember would place the tip of the spear into the water a little. The spirits couldn't recognize the spear for what it was and would play their illusions with the spear too, showing Ember where the spear would really hit. To ensure that her efforts were enough, Ember whispered a fishing song to the fish spirits. The song would comfort the spirits and help weaken their resolve. With any luck, Ember might have fish to eat.
The water was hard to see through as the light was nearly gone when a fish finally swam beside her spear. Ember thrust her spear through the fish and hauled the arm-long cat fish from the water in a smooth practiced motion. She flung the fish onto the land where it would soon die. Small fish were easy to kill, but large fish required beating from a cudgel to kill! The peaceful singing didn't really match up well with the beating, so Ember kept her songs short.
Now how to cook the fish, roast or blackened? she pondered. Ember strode from the water and considered what she needed for her fire. From her bag, she removed a fire bow, used to start fires. Now, Ember merely needed a small stick with a point, about half as long as her arm. She would point it straight down against a piece of dry wood and rotate it rapidly using the fire bow, generating friction, which would create heat for a fire. While this rotating action could be performed by hand or by rubbing your hands together with the stick in between, the action would be tiring and hurt the skin. Ember's people used a bow, which looked like a tiny hunting bow, about half an arm's length. The bow string would loop around the orthogonally mounted stick, rotating it as the bow sawed back and forth. This rotation created the fire with little work. The top of the down pointing stick would be pressed lightly by Ember's hand with a smooth piece of wood in between. The wood she used to press with had a dimple in which the stick held fast. The bottom of the stick rotated against a very dry piece of wood with leaves and dried grass to act as tinder.
Ember pulled the bow quickly, back and forth, until smoke trailed from the piece of wood. With that, she dropped to her belly and gently blew into the tinder. She kept her hands cupped around it to keep the tinder from blowing away. Long slow breaths brought life to the fire which suddenly flared into a tiny flame. Ember used dry leaves, and grass to set fire to the wood and kindling. Within a short time, a small but steady fire was burning. Ember wished she had been named for skill with fire and not her fiery red hair. Ember had seen many of the men of her village perform this same feat in moments, much faster than she.
Now, it was time to prepare the fish. Ember checked the fish to ensure it was dead. Killing a fish was one thing, but burning it alive was totally different and Ember didn't want to anger the spirits of the fish by being so cruel. Ember stared at the fish for a long moment and saw no movement. She poked the fish several times, again without movement. Using her dagger, she slit open the stomach of the fish and spilled its innards into the river. Ember was careful to keep the liver, eyes, and heart. She would eat these as well, tiny as they were. It was known that these tiny little bits of the fish could keep the body feeling well, even when fish was all there was to be found. She cleaned the empty cavity with her fingers and placed a stick in the fish's mouth.
“There you are fish. Sorry, but your guts have to go. At least I killed you first.” Ember had heard hunters tell of wolves and their prey, often not fully dead before they started eating. Ember shivered at the thought of wolves. Suddenly, the fire really seemed like a good idea. Ember felt more alone at that moment than she had all day. With a glance to ensure she had enough wood for the night, Ember moved closer to the fire and prepared her meal.
The stick was placed into the ground at an angle allowing the fish to cook over the fire. Every few moments the stick was rotated a quarter turn. While she waited for the meat, Ember used a tiny twig to roast the organs and quickly ate them. Ember always liked the taste of fish hearts, though they were so small that often they were missed when cleaning the fish.
As the night rolled in, Ember knelt before the fire and gave thanks to the Gods for her good fortune and the large fish she had caught. As she knelt, she lifted her arms towards the sky, palms out, and slowly lowered them to rest upon her stomach. The fire crackled and the heat radiated over her skin bringing relaxation. Such simple rituals were commonplace in the tribe and nearly second nature. Thanks were generally given in the mornings, before eating, and at night. Besides, the camp was lonely, and Ember couldn't see more than four lengths of a man beyond the fire. She could use the extra security her faith afforded her.
With her cupped hands, she “pulled” the badness from herself, symbolically, and let it burn in the fire as her hands moved quickly through the flames. Ember hummed the words of a short song of blessing, an old habit by now. The fish had fully cooked by the end of the ritual and Ember moved it away from the fire to cool. After a few moments, she sank her teeth into the crispy skin of the fish tasting the succulent, if not oily, meat. Catfish was very oily, but also quite filling. Some fish produced bones which could be used for various purposes, such as charring for black pigment. After her meal and a few near misses with such bones, Ember walked to the edge of the water to clean off before bed.
The water's edge was just barely visible from the fire. Ember's skin crawled with fear as she suddenly realized how vulnerable she was standing bare skinned, without even her dagger, by the water’s edge. She was far from her people and even her small protective fire. Ember cleaned off very quickly and returned to her fire.
“Run! For the monsters of the night love a tasty girl!” she scolded and then laughed. She pulled her doe skin shirt over her waist and laid back to watch the stars in the sky. The wind was warm and felt incredibly good as it lazily drifted over her bare skin. If only she could sleep like this every night, she thought as she slowly drifted into sleep. During the night, a warm breeze blew in, growing in humidity and strength as the night drew steadily forward.
The next morning, Ember awoke to a deep red sky and warm wind. With her fire having long ago died to a smoldering heap, she found the warm wind welcoming against her skin. Ember spent a short time simply stretching each limb in the warm wind. The feeling of her muscles being gently stretched always sent waves of pleasure through her body and left her in a much better mood for the day. After the blissful stretch, Ember sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
The red sky was often an omen of a coming storm and Ember considered the wisdom of having challenged the Great River spirits the day before. Perhaps they would show her their power. That thought was unsettling to someone about to venture forth in a tiny dugout boat. Ember considered being a little more humble around the river and perhaps even
giving the river a few offerings over the next few days. She decided to spend the day pondering these and other helpful activities as she traversed the Great River.
As the morning broke, Ember walked down the pebbly river bank and set about washing in the River. The cool water was always welcome as the river, and the very lands were generally too cold for such indulgences. This season had been particularly warm, so much more than others, which allowed for some such special indulgences. Ember's people were generally always clothed outside, and the chance to trot about without modesty or worry was relaxing.
After cleaning her hair and skin, Ember caked her skin in the soft clay which could be found in patches near the bank. She sang as she worked with the clay, remembering songs her mother had taught her. Ember's hands sank deep through the silt and pebbles and into cool thick pockets of mud and clay. The clay was nearly as thick as the clay used to make pottery and readily stuck to her skin. Within a few moments, she was totally covered in a thin layer of the clay, giving her a gray appearance. The clay would keep the insects at bay, keep the sun off of her, and leave her with incredibly smooth skin when it flaked into powder later in the day. With cleaning taken care of, Ember set to work making breakfast. With the quick grind of her fire bow, she soon had a small fire in the same place which had burned the previous night. A fire often started more quickly where one had before burned.
Using a straight twig, Ember heated a strip of dried deer meat and a large tuber. She longed for some roasted deer liver and heart. The meat was filling, but a diet of meat could only sustain a person for so long. After the simple meal, Ember cleaned her hands in the river and made the boat ready for travel. She pulled the mat off of the top of the boat and slowly pushed it half way into the water. The clay on her skin had dried, mostly, and much of it had flaked off. Quickly, Ember donned her skirt and shirt, tossed her belt and items in the boat, and gave one final stretch. The iron rations were loaded along with some twigs to fiddle with, and pebbles to toss during the long tedious trip. After a quick “natural” moment leaning against a tree in a squatting fashion, she was ready for her trip.
Ember pushed the little boat the rest of the way into the water and hopped on board. The majority of the day was uneventful with not much more than a soaring bird or a jumping fish to interest Ember. The valley walls she moved through were decently high in some places, but this did nothing to block the sunlight. Ember sat back and nibbled on her lunch while lazily keeping the boat moving straight. On the nearby shore, a brown colored bear was having a cool sip of water. Ember and the bear regarded each other for a short moment. She had already seen plenty of birds and animals.
I really should be able to hunt something. The men do it so often, besides, fish are starting to get boring, she thought, tossing some semi-boiled turnip pieces in her mouth.
During the period of high-sun, where the sun was at the highest point it would go during the day, Ember passed a place where people had recently been. There were large wooden poles protruding from the water in series around an overused bank, a sort of river inlet. As she passed the inlet, the tops of longhouses and village structures could be seen from the river.
“A village!” she said excitedly. Ember was struck by the sound of her own voice. It had been nearly a day since she had uttered a single word. The thought of a quick stop at a village sounded like a good idea to Ember.
She carefully used her steering pole to move the boat closer to the shore to have a look. As the boat approached the shore, Ember began to notice that something seemed amiss. Along the shore, discarded pots and baskets were left here and there. A pile of fish had been left to rot and were now nothing more than strewn bones. Discarded wooden poles and other debris were scattered in the sand. Something was wrong about this scene.
Ember steered the boat towards the edge of the bank where she might come ashore and see what had befallen these people. The tough little boat steered an angle with the force of the river behind it and slammed into the shore with speed. Ember jumped out into knee deep water and hauled the boat onto the land. Was it her imagination or did the Great River seem to have picked up its current a little? Ember pulled the boat ashore fully and straightened her doe skin shirt and flax skirt. It wouldn't do to be unpresentable if she found people.
Often, a village would be abandoned if the resources in the local area needed time to recover. The tribe would simply leave and move to a different place. Some villages had started purposefully growing crops to reduce the need to do this. Ember's village was one such village, but there were plenty of strictly hunter gathering villages to be found, or so Ember had heard. Ember had heard of tribes which made this journey every few seasons between two or more places, moving to one site for the warm season and returning to another place every cold season. This problem of having to move was more common with tribes who hunted and gathered much more than they grew. Many of the tribes near Ember's people hunted for their meat but either fished or grew crops to make up for the rest.
Maybe they had eaten bad meat the night before, and everyone's finding a quiet bush, she mused.
A look around the village would determine the truth of the matter. As Ember approached the village, she took a closer examination of the bank, which revealed the pots and baskets of decent quality strewn about. They were left where they fell in a haphazard manner. This made no sense to Ember. She could understand broken pots being left, but the quality hand-woven basket with intricate decoration, which she now stood over, simply wouldn't be left sitting on the ground. The basket had rotted tubers in it as though it had been placed on the ground to dry after washing and just left.
Ember walked up the path from the shore towards the village. This village had a high bank of dirt separating it from the water. This had a wind breaking effect as well as granting a measure of safety if the river flooded. Ember's village used the same wind breaking wall as well as wind breaking trees.
As Ember crested the hill, she realized that something was wrong, very wrong... The village stood before her with perhaps twenty longhouses and a central fire. All throughout the village were possessions, left unattended. One of the houses had fully burned to the ground! As Ember looked around she began seeing what looked like arrow shafts, buried into many places. She froze in place, instantly realizing what had befallen these people. Before she could even consider what this realization meant, she saw the first body.
Beside one of the longhouses, was a half decayed skeleton with what looked like a broken spear stuck partially inside of its rib cage. The body lay face down and in a pose as though it had just come out of the longhouse before being impaled from behind. Ember held her hand to her mouth, eyes wide open. This village had been attacked!
Ember sank to her knees and then to the ground, overcome by the horror. As she sat on the ground, she sang a short and mournful song for the dead, a custom of her people. The words were pure and her voice held steady, but she felt tears form in her eyes. She was letting her emotions take hold and the song was amplifying this. The sight of the carnage had overcome Ember before she had realized it. After she finished the prayer song, Ember stood and took a few deep breaths to regain her composure.
Raids were a common enough occurrence. Generally only a few warriors would rush into a village, quickly stealing some food or animals, and perhaps even a few women and children. Rarely did anyone die. The point of a raid was to obtain food and resources, but typically not to kill. Worse, given the size and location of this tribe, Ember had probably met some of its inhabitants before; traders from local villages were common enough.
Ember carefully walked around the tribe with her obsidian dagger in her hand, more for self-assurance than for any foe. By the look of things, this raid..., this massacre, had happened not long after the end of the last cold season. Ember checked each of the bodies she found around the village. The decayed bodies, mostly skeletons by now, still wore their clothing. Those who had been disrobed and looted had their clothing lying nearby. Ember co
uld tell the sex and often the age of the people, in terms of young, adult, or elderly by their size and style of clothing.
Ember carefully entered each of the houses finding the same basic scene in each. They had been looted entirely, and anything of value had been taken. Though she found some females amongst the fallen, Ember found nearly all of the dead to be males. This made some sense given the value of a woman to a tribe. These women, and many of the children, may have been taken by the raiders as slaves. Ember shuttered to think of the kind of men who would take women and kill their men.
A stolen woman was often a prize for a young and budding warrior from one of the more aggressive peoples. She could expect decent treatment as the mate of the warrior. As terrifying as that was, it was still nothing like the wholesale bondage of a full tribe! Ember kept reminding herself that she had no proof that the tribe had all been taken captive. She had to consider the possibility that the tribe had merely fled.
After a while, Ember came across the body of what was presumably a raider. The body laid face down, much like most of the dead. He had a leather tunic, where most of the men in this tribe had woven reed tunics. He wore a leather breechcloth and cord belt with leather leggings and tied leather boots. At his waist were several loosely fastened thongs with knots tied at each of their ends. Ember realized, with a shudder that these were for binding hands! She stood away from the body in disgust and kicked the decayed skull, which rolled away.
“You worthless beast! Now you'll have no head in the afterlife!” Unfortunately, she knew that the head needed to be removed just after death for it to miss the journey to the other-side with the body. She hoped he would at least feel it, wherever the dead went. Ember wondered why the enemy had been left on the ground with the dead of the village. Was he the only enemy to die? If not, where were the bodies of the other dead raiders? Ember walked around to the main side of the village.
