by Watson, Tom
Beside the sleeping mother and baby, a small reed basket sat with the placenta inside. No one knew what the placenta was or why it was connected to the baby, but it was considered important to keep it protected until it detached from the baby, a few days after birth. Such mysteries always fascinated Ember. For a long time she sat staring at the baby and the odd tube coming from its stomach.
The next day, Ember made her way to the Widow's Hut to find and speak with Brigdha. As she approached the hut, Ember found a warrior standing before the door. The warrior noted Ember's obvious destination and addressed her plainly.
“Hold! Why, you-come?” he spoke in broken trade language.
“I-come, to-see, woman, named-Brigdha,” Ember said. To this, the warrior gave Ember a frown.
“No. No-one, see-Brigdha. Duruth-say,” he spat. Ember was unsure of what to do. She had meant to lend some sort of support to this ill-fated woman and perhaps even try and determine what was going on, but how could she when her very entry into the hut was blocked?
I should have come long before now, she thought. Ember figured that a few days, perhaps a ten-day or two, would see the matter old enough for Ember to try once more. With a grimace at the warrior, Ember turned and left for the traders hut to help E'lyse. She would wait for the right moment to make her move.
Over the next few ten-days, E'lyse and the baby continued their bonding, and life went on, until the third incident. The first and the second death had been considered by some an accident, or even isolated, but they were followed not three ten-days later by the death of a woman in the woods near the tribe. This time the woman, her name had been Caladis, had apparently relieved herself in the woods the previous evening and had been returning to the village when she was killed. Her head showed a similar bump, but not enough to have cause death. Again the tribe was in an uproar with the deaths.
As the people were called to the courtyard, there were many calls for something to be done to cleanse the tribe of the wrongs against the Gods. Several people called for the death of Brigdha to appease the Gods. As Ember and Kis’tra came to where the rest of their group stood, they saw poor Brigdha being led from the Widows Hut by two warriors. Brigdha turned out to be a young woman with long brown hair and a simple leather tunic. She had a terrified expression of confusion as many of the tribes people yelled at her. Priest Duruth came forward and lifted his hands in the air to call for calm. Nor'Gar translated word for word, but Ember was starting to understand their words much better now.
“Be silent! The Gods have again shown us their anger! We can no longer wait to see what they want. We must act to protect ourselves. I think it very likely that Brigdha is the reason for their anger. You must not be angry at Brigdha. It was not her choice to escape death. Any of you would have tried in her place! But fate must be corrected,” he said. As he spoke, many nodded in agreement. Poor Brigdha cried in fear, understanding where events were headed.
“This is-not right,” Ember said to Kis’tra, Sv'en, and a few others from the group who were nearby. “They will-kill her.” The others said nothing, but their looks were in accord. Duruth continued (translated by Nor'Gar).
“It is the determination of the Elders that Brigdha the Widow will be given to the Gods in three days’ time. She will now be taken and prepared for the offering.” Duruth finished his speech with a look of regretful necessity. Ember stood, unable to move as the enormity of events sank in. Brigdha was to be killed!
Chapter 16: The Right Choice
Ritual sacrifice has been an aspect of humanity for probably as long as there have been humans. The reasons vary, but the root is probably a product of our sentience. Being sentient means humans comprehend their own lives and mortality. To die is one of the greatest fears of humans and as such, probably amounted to the ultimate “gift” to appease a deity. Human sacrifice is not always unwilling; the Aztecs were known to engage in ritual sacrifice of “willing” participants, though it could be argued that commonly drugged participants may agree to many things.
It is easy to look at the people of Nes as being somehow evil or wrong, but from their perspective, the Gods were very real and failure to appease them could mean the death of scores from famine or disease! Without knowledge of diseases, how might they have looked upon Brigdha being spared an illness which killed everyone else? Perhaps Ember will do something about this before another falls to the “will of the Gods”.
Many of Nor'Gar's group were shocked to hear of this. Human sacrifice occurred in some places, and many had heard of it, but to witness it firsthand and especially of a young woman, whom fate had already left for dead, were more than many could bear. As the group returned to the huts, Ember stood and watched Brigdha being escorted into the large hut with the priest. She couldn't stand for this! She would have to do something, but what? She briefly considered trading the hard water, or was it fallen sky?, for Brigdha's life. She knew that wouldn't work. These people needed to feel like they had done something to stop an unseen enemy.
Ember caught up with the rest of the group who had gathered in one of the huts, leaving E'lyse and her baby alone with the travelers from the true south. When Ember stepped in, she had fury in her eyes. Nor'Gar saw her and calmed his people down so they could rationally talk. Nor'Gar spoke in his native language, and Kis’tra translated what parts Ember couldn't understand.
“Borjk, stand by the door and keep watch. We want privacy. This is an evil. Gods can take life, I should know this better than many,” Nor’Gar said, referring to his wife, dead from child birth long ago.
“Gods can smite with lightning! What God hits someone over the head? Each victim had a bump on their head. A man or woman is killing these people. We must leave before we are a part of this. In three days, the woman will die, and we must be gone before then,” he stated.
“What-of, Brigdha?” Ember spat in the trade language.
“We-cannot let-her, die,” Tor'kal added, most uncharacteristically as silent as he normally was.
“How, would-we stop-them?” Nor'Gar asked as much as pleaded. Ember stood, and all eyes met hers.
“We, will sneak into, the-main-hut, and sneak her out, after we-have seemed to, leave,” Ember explained in the amalgam language while Kis’tra translated, the plan forming in her mind as she spoke! The plan sounded a little less convincing when she heard it said aloud, but she stood behind it.
Sv'en thought for a moment then added (Kis’tra translated for Ember), “We could probably sneak in and get her out in two days’ time. She could hide in the woods for the night and await our departure.”
Ven'Gar frowned, “No, that would seem too obvious. She could also die in the woods left alone for a night. That is no place for a woman.” He stopped when he saw that Ember and Aya were both independently giving him scolding looks, for different reasons, while Kis’tra struggled to keep the translations going in real-time.
"I don't know why I even speak some times," he said. Ember and Aya both laughed, then caught sight of each other laughing, and stopped. Ana stood and made a suggestion.
“What if we leave early the day before and come back to get her, maybe a small group?” Nor'Gar smiled and looked like he was putting things together.
“You have the mind of a hunter Ana! Yes, that is a good idea. There are other tribes south, and we can avoid this one for a few harvests. They will forget in time, and once the killer is caught...”
“Are you sure it isn't the Gods?” Aya interjected. Nor'Gar stared her plainly in the face for a moment before he spoke.
“My young woman, while some have eyes clouded by goals and wants, I see clearly. This is the work of someone who schemes and not of the Gods.” Aya swallowed and remained quiet. Ember bit her lip trying to keep from laughing. The remainder of the night was spent discussing the details of the plan. Nor'Gar sat back and watched as Ember took a key role in the planning.
You have changed from the dancer in the moon to a warrior, Ember the brave, he mused to himself.
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The next day, the entire group was on a state of high alert with both their plan and the danger of an unknown killer. Most of the tribe, as well as Nor'Gar's group, walked in groups of two or more where ever they went, and no one wanted to go out at night. It had been ten ten-days since the group had arrived and the general mood of the tribe was dower. The deaths had seriously worried the people, made worse by the announcement by the priest that Brigdha had angered the Gods by cheating death. Ember didn't believe this notion as she had already learned how random the God’s wills could be.
Unfortunately, the general consensus among the people tended to affect the “conclusions” Duruth “came” to when he gave his speeches explaining the mood the Gods were in. As a result, he made populist and often wrong choices. Ember and her friends would make the right choice. Ember wondered if the real will of the Gods could be known by any person. Perhaps the very deeds of a brave person were their true will. If so, Ember concluded that these priests merely existed to help people become comfortable with their own decisions.
The early morning on the second day after the meeting, only one day before the sacrifice, the group from Tornhemal had finished preparing to leave. The ground had some light snow, and the days and nights were cold, but the cold season had been decently manageable, and it was probably safe to journey a full two ten-days earlier than usual. The group would move slower with the cold, but everyone was ready to leave. Even E'lyse was able to move, having gave birth a full three ten-days ago. Her son, Vander, was wrapped in a large beaver skin bag with a handle attached and looped around her neck. Vander was further warmed by several of the gray rabbit furs which had not sold. E'lyse's kept her open vest pushed into the bag and under the furs. This would keep both of them warm and allow him to feed as needed along the way.
Nor'Gar had kept his tone neutral when the elder, and spokesmen of the tribe, had come to him asking why the group was leaving early. He had informed the man that his people looked poorly on human sacrifice and that they could not attend. He wished their tribe the best of luck, and that he would be on his way. Within a short time, the people of Tornhemal had said goodbye to any friends they had made and the people from the true south who were not planning on leaving in such cold. And then they were off, all twenty-three, counting Vander, back towards the camp a full two ten-days or more away to the north east.
That night, Brigdha sat on a mat near the back of the large hut. Her hands and feet were bound. Over the last two days, the Elders had performed a number of cleansing rituals to prepare her for the Gods. Her hair had been washed, and her body cleaned. She had been stripped and coated in scented oils by the elder women. She now wore a thin leather ceremonial one piece sleeveless tunic which hung to her knees. Brigdha was very frightened. She had only seen nineteen harvests and yet here she sat being prepared for sacrifice. This was not the way it was supposed to happen! Her lover, husband, and friend Mohdan had died in her arms from the sickness. She had hoped it would take her as she had watched him die, but somehow she had been spared. Now she would be killed by these frightened people to appease their Gods. Her mind raced through fear after fear. Her greatest worry was that her spirit would be somehow lost if it were given to another God. If she died and was offered to a God other than those of her land, how could she be with her family in the afterlife? That fear worried her more than any thoughts of death. Duruth returned a moment later and sat beside her. He looked at her tear streaked face with a deep sadness.
“I do not want this, but if it is the will of the Gods than it must be. Will you take food your last night?” Brigdha wouldn't even look at Duruth. She gave a sarcastic chuckle which turned into a sob. He stood and walked away.
Duruth felt bad for her, but in his heart he knew he was doing the will of the Gods. The streak through the sky last warm season had signaled the attention of the Gods. They sent signs when they had need of people to do their will. It had taken him until now to realize that will. He felt sad for those who had died before he understood the messages. Walking outside, Duruth was comforted by the light of a full moon. He walked over to the sacrificial area, a large wooden frame where the person was tied, arms and legs spread, and their neck was cut open. The frame was set so that the person would lie at about a 45 degree angle with their head pointed mostly down. At the bottom was a large clay pot which would catch the blood for the ritual afterward. He could almost see the young woman on the frame, and the thought pained him. He would risk the ire of the Gods and give her herbs to make her calm, he decided then. That shouldn't anger them much as they seemed only displeased that she had escaped death, not for any deed which warranted pain or suffering. She wouldn't know what was happening and would slip away without much pain.
It was at that moment that he saw a rustle in the bushes not far from the palisade. Most of the tribe would be asleep by now, and few would be out wandering. Duruth wondered who or what had rustled the bushes. As he walked forward to see what was happening, the whole world suddenly went black and stars filled his eyes.
The club had been aimed at his head and was already swinging to hit when Duruth started moving. His abrupt and sudden motion forward had taken the man swinging the club by surprise, and the end of the club had only clipped his head. Truly, luck was with Duruth at that moment. Duruth stumbled forward and fell onto one knee. His head swam with confusion as he looked behind himself and saw a man, a farmer from one of the outer parts of the tribe, walking forward with a club in one hand and a rabbit fur in the other.
* * *
As the group moved off, four scouts were sent aft of the group to ensure no one was following. The rescue team had been selected before they left: Sv'en, Ven'Gar, Tor'kal, Ember, who refused to be left out, and Aya, who refused to let Ven'Gar run off with Ember where she couldn't watch. Nor'Gar had tried to argue with the women, but Ember had reminded him that he had called her a warrior, and she had survived wolf attacks and crazy hunters too! Aya had just ignored him. He had conceded, finally giving up with either of them. Nor'Gar opted out himself, due to his age, entrusting the leadership of the rescue to Ven'Gar.
Before leaving, Ember had coated her face and body in a soot-based coloring to darken her appearance. After seeing how hard she was to see in the dark, the other four rescuers had also applied various designs of the dark paint. Kis’tra was almost startled when she saw how the group looked as she came to wish her husband good luck. With a double check of her bow string and wink to Kis’tra, Ember and the group were off. The rescue team broke off from the main group and carefully moved back to camp taking a roundabout away to avoid detection. They waited until the dark of night within sight of the village, upon a hill.
* * *
Duruth's vision went black once more as he was kicked in the stomach by the farmer, Peerth? Was that his name? The farmer came forward with a twisted smile on his face. Where were the warriors? They were nowhere near the hut. If he survived this, he would need to start assigning more of them at night to guard.
“Well, everyone's asleep for the big day tomorrow Duruth... my wife would be there but... she died. Remember when the sickness took her?” the man said with eerie calm.
“Who... Peerth? What are you talking about? What is this?” Duruth asked, his head throbbing in pain.
“Yes, it is Peerth. I am surprised you even know my name. Each harvest I give you some of my crops and yet my wife lies dead. You ordered some of the women to look over those traders, the sick ones. You sent her into that hut, and she fell ill afterward. Do you remember?” Peerth babbled on.
“So, you're the killer? You did this because your wife died?” Duruth said, hoping he could keep Peerth babbling until a warrior came.
“No! I am not a killer. I am the hand of the Gods! It came to me as I watched her die of the sickness. I watched your medicines fail and your Elders dancing for nothing. The Gods give us the tools to perform their will,” he said lifting the club.
You're insane Peerth... you have lost your mind, Duru
th thought, and he was quite right.
“You hit people with the club to knock them down and then smother them with that fur? Is that how you kill without leaving marks?” Duruth asked, still stalling for time. Crazy people always felt that they had “reasons” for their actions; often a supposed injustice. Perhaps he would make this one complain about his injustice until help came. He was sure now he had seen a person in the bushes near the palisade.
* * *
The dark had come, but the moon had bathed the world with its light. This was a problem for the rescue party. They would need to be extra careful with this much light. Quietly, Sv'en, Ven'Gar, Tor'kal, Ember, and Aya moved towards the bushes beside the palisade and the large hut. Sv'en turned to the women as if to ask them to wait, but the determined looks on their faces stayed his tongue. He shook his head and moved off towards the palisade. When the group arrived, they saw no warriors; in fact, no one at all.
"They are probably sleeping to ensure they are ready for their sacrifice tomorrow," Sv'en said.
“Or, too afraid to be out,” Aya added. Everyone nodded in dark agreement.
“Sv'en, Tor'kal, help me move these poles so we can get in,” Ven'Gar said. Ember listened and understood more than she could say. She was already wishing Kis’tra had come to translate more accurately. A moment later, a few of the poles from the palisade wall were heaved from the ground and carefully laid aside, and the party was within the camp. Ember quickly snuck from the bushes to the back of the large hut before Ven'Gar could stop her. She had not understood his instructions due to lost words in the translation.