Ember of a New World

by Watson, Tom

  By the time the sun approached the horizon, Ember was totally exhausted. The four stopped in an area with many wide fields to make camp for the night. Ember's feet ached, and her wrists were cut in many places from those damned bindings. She saw the forest on either side of the fields. Ember was unsure if her body could tolerate the run from where she was to the forests edge before being seen. Worse, if Ember ran, she would have to somehow evade the men when they came for her. Ember had started to consider her surroundings since the previous night. She had become an opportunist with her fear of the old man. She had even openly accepted food from the younger man, instead of only taking it after she was forced. She would need the strength to run when she made her break. After a time, the men had finished laying mats and clearing the area of debris. The younger man came forward and placed a large rabbit beside Ember and gave her a nod. He gave her a half smile and untied her bindings leaving her to make dinner. She had to do something soon.

  A short time later, Ember stood by the river’s edge with the rabbit gaining the confidence to make dinner for these men. The work was made much more difficult by the hate welling in her. She had trouble keeping herself calm as she worked.

  Do they not understand how hard it is to make a meal for those who enslave you? She pushed thoughts of what might come after dinner from her mind and laid the rabbit down for cleaning. Normally, the men either gave her several rabbits, or a few small game birds, or fish, but this was all they had caught today. The younger dark haired man had shot the rabbit with the same blunt arrow used to stun Ember. The poor creature had been huge for a rabbit and might actually afford enough meat for the three men, at least. She would most likely eat tubers, if anything. After a long effort of cutting and scraping, the rabbit had been eviscerated and cleaned.

  Ember had started with her plans of escape from the moment she had been freed. Many young women in per place would have been too gripped by fear, but Ember had always been strong of heart and less than tolerant of fools. Had these men not considered the ways she might use this very work against them? Perhaps they assumed that a woman could merely cook food and nothing more. Ember had spent much of the evening considering how to wound men with a meal.

  An undercooked rabbit can make a man quite ill, she said to herself with an evil grin. With that thought, Ember started working on the first segment of a quickly forming plan. She would retain a tiny bit of the innards from the rabbit and add it to the cooked meat just before feeding it to the men. These men would find that Ember could be as deadly as any hunter; maybe even a little cunning, like a fox.

  The cleaning of a land animal was similar to the cleaning and dressing of a fish, basically, but much worse in smell. Ember's fingers were wet with gore and oil from the carcass when she was done. The belly of the rabbit had to be sliced open, and the organs spilled out. Afterward, the remaining pieces would be scooped out, by hand, and the carcass cleaned in water. The hardest part was removing the fur which had to be done by hand in a tearing fashion.

  The noise and feel always bothered Ember. Women in the village would sometimes vomit while first learning to do this, but growing up beside your mother as she did this act nearly daily lessened the effect when it came your turn to clean the meals. You would either grow used to this or never eat meat. Ember tended to have trouble eating the very animal she had cleaned, but otherwise she tolerated the gore well. She smiled to herself as she considered the art of domestic homicide. In truth, she was not trying to kill the men, but if they became seriously ill, she would not be too upset.

  Ember cleaned her fingers in a nearby stream with sand for grout. Before washing the rabbit, she let a small piece of entrails fall beside the rock she now knelt beside. The entrails were the nastiest and most vile part of the guts. If they were left in the food, they could make you sick, even if the food was cooked. If they were applied to already cooked meat, they might prove deadly! The effect would take perhaps part of the night or even the next day, but it could render the men ineffective at chasing her, and if she were lucky, it might even kill the old one. The more Ember thought about it, the less she thought she might care if the older man didn't wake up.

  The men were casually watching her, but mostly to prevent her from running. She washed water through the rabbit carcass to clean it further and brought the rabbit back to the fire. The small piece of entrail was cupped in her left hand carefully between her index and middle finger, where her hands were already blackened from the pigment she wore. Her slightly dark and tanned skin was starting to return as the black pigment wore off, but the men had not noticed the deadly cargo she carried as she placed the Rabbit over a newly constructed spit. Ember noticed the aggressive old man eying her body with a hungry look. She shuddered and wiped the saved gore on the end of the spit, just away from the fire but within easy reach. Ember hoped his hunger could be abated by the rabbit, and that the next day would bring the effects of her treachery.

  Ember knew that a full man would normally sleep soundly. To ensure this happened, she spent a short while creating porridge of ground grains from a leather bag the men carried, and some water. The rabbit was quite large and Ember was able to cut a small piece for each man. She added the entrails carefully to the inside and burned parts hoping to mask the taste. There were only enough entrails to spoil two of the pieces, and so Ember decided to poison the older man and the blonde haired man. She would spare the younger man if this even worked.

  Perhaps she could escape even with the younger man not ill. Ember walked to each of the men and handed them a crude woven reed “plate” with porridge and rabbit meat. Each of the men ate greedily as she watched. Ember's stomach rumbled loudly enough to be heard, and the large man turned to her and said something, to which he and the blonde haired man laughed. The youngest hunter stood and walked to Ember and offered her his bowl with some rabbit and porridge remaining. Ember refused the food and crossed her hands over her chest to indicate refusal. Five days of captivity had not diminished Ember's embarrassment at being forced into such indignity. The young man glared at her and thrust the bowl once more. She again refused, fearing to be too agreeable and feeling more confident in her choice of victims. The younger man tapped his chest and spoke.

  “Pak,” he said. He repeated this word twice more, his name she supposed.

  Well, “Pak”, I will not so easily befriend you, but I will spare your life, Ember thought. She slowly walked to a little tree near the camp, where the men would most likely tie her up, and curled up to sleep. Each night they chose a spot with a small but firm tree close enough to bind Ember. She heard the men laughing, and she hoped they would leave her be, at least for the night.

  Before bed, the older men came to Ember again and tied her hands once more. Afterward, he squatted before her and carefully let one finger trace a line from her cheek to her chin. Her skin crawled, and she let out a gasp of revulsion. He said something which promised suffering, but suddenly let out a small laugh and stood to go lie down.

  “You'll die for that...” she whispered in response, but if the large old man heard her, he did not show it. He just walked back to the fire and fell asleep. Ember was sure that he was close to breaking and would come for her very soon. She hoped the rabbit was working its magic. With a dinner of rabbit and grain porridge in their stomachs, the men slid off to bed. Ember sat against the tree, her hands were now slightly looser than before, she was learning how to loosen them, but she was unable to move away from her current location. She hoped she might make it through the night without the need to relieve herself, an uncomfortable prospect, to say the least, with three men only a short walk from her.

  With such sour thoughts, Ember drifted away from her fifth day as a slave to these men. She considered her promise of death to the older man and the poisoning of the food. What had this done to her? Killing in defense of yourself or others was morally permissible by her people, but until this moment she hadn't actually considered the actual act of killing. She was causing, had a
ctually set into motion, the possible death of two men!

  Every day I die a little myself. You sons of wolves. No more! she thought. She promised herself that there would be no sixth night.

  Ember awoke with an impact of a blanket in her face. She soon realized her hands were freed, and she was sitting in a pile of the three woven mat blankets the men had slept on the night before. Normally, the men woke her and then had her clean and pack the bedding. For some reason, they had each awoken before Ember and were now preparing themselves. The oldest man gestured at her in a gruff accent, using the word “clean”, which she understood. Ember stared back at the man with an angry glare and dared him to force her. He glared at her for a moment and then suddenly came at her like a wild boar! Ember stood and held her ground even as he swiped his arm backhanding her across the face. She saw stars and truly felt like crying out, but she held her tongue and her gaze. The man's rage suddenly left his face and he began to laugh at her with fervency. The laughter unnerved Ember, but she knew she had played her resistance far enough. She turned her head away from the burly man and picked up the mats. She had come so fast from sleep to being struck across the face that she had not noticed the change in the men. The older man looked uncomfortable, and the blonde haired man was nowhere to be seen.

  What's the matter old man? Your friends going off into the woods sick and you don't know why? I do..., she thought. Could her plan be working? Time would tell.

  During the last five days since Ember had reluctantly joined the group, the men had traveled in a north westerly direction moving with the Great River and towards the setting of the sun. Ironically, she was making good progress in the direction of her quest. The general lay of the land began to slowly change from green and flat to slightly less green and much more rolling. The slight rises in the land were replaced with great hills and open fields. The journey west was actually somewhat beneficial, circumstances aside, but Ember just couldn't understand why these men were traveling so far. Ember was unfamiliar with such men who would journey so many days to hunt. She knew merchants, who journeyed so far, but they carried their wares and occasionally a few animals in trade but these men were armed for hunting with no such wares.

  As she cleaned the mats at the river, she noticed the blonde man. He was sitting against a tree behind a large bush making gasping noises and shuddering. She could not see what he was doing and the sounds he made were quite expressive. Ember couldn't care the less if he died there.

  Hopefully a large snake is biting him in the..., wait; he's suffering from the rabbit! She thought. That would explain the shudders and the noises. The blonde haired man had the runs and was relieving himself behind the tree. Ember smiled as she washed the mats. Once the effect started, she had seen bad food kill a man before; he wouldn't make it more than a few days if he lived. Sometimes the poisoned food wasn't deadly, and a fire and lots of water helped the person live. What worried Ember was the lack of the old man showing symptoms. Perhaps he hadn't eaten the poisoned areas, or perhaps he was too nasty for even the rabbit's entrails. Ember nearly let out a giggle, the first truly amusing thought she had in perhaps four days.

  When she packed up the last mat, the blonde haired man returned. She had heard him called “Calpano” or something close to that. Calpano, if that was his name, was slightly pale looking and with a great sweat. The other men gathered their belongings and loaded a freshly bound Ember with two satchels for that day's journey. Ember was tired of being a beast of burden and knew the time was upon her. Tonight, she would make her escape. The worst case would be if the older man did not become ill. Either way, she could be sure she had removed any long-term chase. The men simply would not be able to chase her too far with at least one of them becoming more ill as the day went by.

  During the day, Calpano did become sicker and sicker. Twice he had stopped and vomited, and as many times he had suddenly run off into the trees only to return a while later, paler than before. The old man had looked a little ill as well, but he had shown nothing more than a lack of interest in lunch and a few uneasy looks. Ember could not tell yet if he was suffering from the rabbit or was just tired from a long journey.

  At dusk of her sixth day in captivity, Ember sat very still watching the young dark haired man, Pak, filling himself on pieces of dried tubers. Calpano had taken to lying on the ground and groaning while the older man seemed to preoccupy himself with staring at Ember inappropriately or yelling at the youngest man. Ember had to make her move, and now she awaited a mistake by one of the men.

  Days of patient waiting suddenly paid off, when the youngest member of the group removed a piece of flint from his pouch and used it to cut the tuber he was eating. Not long after he started, a large sliver of flint broke off of the piece the young man used. He scooped up the large flint fragment, inadvertently leaving a few small slivers. With a frown, he examined the larger broken piece and replaced it in his pouch. Ember saw this.

  After a short time, Ember was ordered to tend the fire for the men as they sat and told each other what sounded like stories. Calpano seemed a little better, having emptied everything in him along that day’s short trip, though he was still pale and shaking now and then. He wouldn't chase Ember far. Now she merely had to do something with the other two. While poking at the fire with a small stick, Ember found the small shard of flint which the younger man had obviously overlooked. Her pulse quickened as she remembered how sharp such shards could be. Ember knew that when her hands were tied at night, she would be checked to ensure she didn't have anything to help her escape. She stood thanking the Gods for taking her boots from her, even though her feet were now adorned by blisters and hurts from walking barefoot. Ember carefully slipped the fragment between her big toe and other toes. She dispassionately walked to the tree to be bound for sleep. The oldest man seemed to be pleased by the look on her face.

  Does he think he has broken me? she wondered.

  “Oh no, no you haven't broken me old man,” she whispered.

  The oldest man came over to Ember and stared at her from head to toe, spending a little bit too long in certain places, before binding her hands rather roughly. This was definitely a good night to escape Ember thought. He stood again and said something to the youngest man, who was now trying to sleep. Ember supposed that he was going to go relieve himself away from the camp. He had done this nearly every night so far. Ember hoped she could finish her escape before his return. She had wanted to escape at night while the men slept or let the rabbit kill the two worst men, but she saw the hungry look in the old man’s eyes and knew the time had come. She would have to settle for the sick man and the absent man, leaving only her ropes and the younger man to deal with. He would be gone for a while, for he liked to take his time at some tasks, but he would return and take Ember before he slept, she figured. He winked at her and walked away from the camp towards the bushes by the river.

  The night was bright with the soon to be waning moon. Ember took a close look at the now sleeping camp and then over her shoulder at the old man as he slowly walked nearly forty lengths of a man away towards the river for some privacy. He would be farther away from the camp than normal due to the bright moon.

  Ember slowly shimmied up the tree trunk enough to maneuver herself around the trunk, placing her bound hands where she had dropped the shard. After a short moment of careful wiggling and cutting, Ember had removed her hands from the bindings. Leather was very strong and resisted breaking when pulled, but sharp flint sliced through leather like fire through snow. Her now freed wrists were red and aching from abuse, and her memories of her cheek being touched by the larger man still left a bitter taste. She couldn't allow these men to chase her. If she could, she would kill the blonde haired man and wound the younger man so he couldn't follow. With her obsidian dagger, she might slit their bare feet before they awoke, and then run. How far could a man with a long cut across his foot run? Ember knew full well how much a wounded foot could hurt, for her own foot was still injured fr
om the wolf attack.

  Ember might escape two wounded men, but the older man was still a problem. She was considering her options but, she was determined to act regardless. Ember was truly in the moment as she started moving. She slowly moved towards the large pack which the older man carried, containing her possessions, as best as she could guess. The pack was the sole object the older man carried, besides his dagger and bow. She opened the pack and found her flint pouch and pendant. She removed the pouch from the old man's pack and pulled the drawstring tight. She was about to put the pouch down when she noticed a rabbit pelt-wrapped object deep in the pack. Ember slowly picked up the bundle and unwrapped it. She nearly swooned as she saw the item found inside: a large blue piece of ice the size of a baby's fist!

  The ice was surprisingly not cold to the touch. Could this be a tiny piece of hardened water? Over the harvests, traders had occasionally brought tiny fragments of shiny color with them to trade, most the size of a small pebble. Some said they were fragments of the sky while others said they were frozen water from a distant and magical sea. Ember didn't truly care which, but she was taken aback by the sheer beauty of the object. She slipped the large blue thing back into the pelt and inserted it into her pouch, now overflowing. She carefully picked up the large man's bow and three of his arrows. Ember now had her flint, and even a weapon, but if she ran now the younger man and the older man would have her soon enough. She would have to ensure they never had a chance to find her.

  Ember had never killed a man, or anyone, and the thought scared her deeply. With thoughts of innocents dying with the first man she killed, Ember now approached Calpano slowly listening to his breath. Calpano wore Ember's obsidian dagger at his side, and she knew she had to recover it. His snoring gave her confidence as she slowly moved to take her knife from the man's belt. As her hand grasped the handle, Ember became aware that the man had stopped snoring. She now sprang backward taking the knife with her, though the sheath was still at the man's waist. Calpano awoke with a groggy anger on his face. He looked horribly ill to Ember, and he seemed to be fighting to keep his consciousness. Ember reached out and carefully stroked her hand as softly as she could over his scalp. As she gently stroked his hair, he quietly gave in to the relaxing petting and slowly slipped back into his delirious sleep. Ember's poison was doing its job well.