Ember of a New World (37 page)

While
she watched, some of the smaller figures stopped, but they were shoved forward by the larger figures. The truth of the scene took Ember in a gasp. These women w
ere prizes! Spoils of some raid;
it had to be. Her thoughts were confirmed when one of the larger figures roughly lifted the fallen person and shook them before thrusting them forward. Ember's blood instantly boiled. She had quite probably and unintentionally caught up with the raiding party from the village they had passed the day before. As Ember stared, Brig'd
ha said what Ember was thinking.

“Ra
iders from-near village!
Evil!”
her wording not quite adequate to say more, but it was enough for Ember, who simply nodded. Brig'dha continued to mutter othe
r curses in her native tongue.

Women taken in raids were common enough, but somehow Ember couldn't let it go. These men, if it had been them, had killed at least four people, as well. The world was full of both good and evil. What separated the good from the evil was
a person’s
willingness to do the right thing no matter what. The tribe they had passed not a single day before again came to mind. Both women remembered watching the sad looking people. They had looked the part of victims, and now she understood why. The whole story unfolded in her mind's eye. These women had been working a little ways from the village, most likely, when they had been snatched just as she had
almost been by the hunter Pak.

The four dead were either women who resisted or any men close enough to come to their aid. Ember had to admit that she didn't know if her beliefs were true, but
either way she also knew that before her was a
group of what looked like men were roughly escorting a group of either younger women or possibly older children, and apparently against their will. These men would probably take them back to their tribe or worse. Who would mourn them and what would they think had happened to their loved ones? Ember the Warrior had to act.

“We have to do something, Brig’dha!” Ember said in her native tongue, drawing a confused sound from Brig’dha.

“We-must do-something
,”
Ember said to Brig'dha
, this time in the trade language,
looking over her shoulder at her new friend square in the face. Brig'dha remembered that look from the night of her rescue. She was afraid, but how could she say no to Ember's r
equest?

“Yes. What-can we-do?”
Brig'dha
asked.

“Head down!”
Ember said, pushing at Brig'dha's head. Quickly they ducked to make themselves as small as possible and hoped they had not been seen, but on the rapids of the river as far from the men as they were Ember doubt
ed they had.

The boat moved many times faster than the war party and quickly had a significant lead on the raiders. Carefully, they maneuvered the little boat into a sheltered inlet a good walk from where the men were last seen. They were ahead of the raiders, and Ember hoped to lay a quick ambush. The women pulled their little boat ashore, quickly. Ember removed her bow and
hastily
strung it, slinging it over her shoulder afterward to carry. She also grabbed her bag of black pigment, made from oil and charred bone, and the small sticks she used for her cooking and drying frames, a plan forming in her mind as she worked. Rosif and his men never encountered her traps, so she thought, and she never got to see if they had worked. This woul
d be a good chance to find out.

Ember laughed to herself,
in spite of her seething anger. S
he wouldn't have taken on something like this when first she had left her people. She was young and afraid then. Now here she was
,
still young and afraid actually, acting like a great hunter, or more like a crazy hunter, taking on five men. She knew Brig'dha would be of little help, but her willingness to endanger herself regardless
of the odds
gave Ember the strength of heart she needed. They would make a stand for what was right. Ember had journeyed for many long days and had nearly died many times, and for what? If this wasn't a cause worth dying
for, tha
n what was? These women could very well have been her friends, perhaps
Kis’tra
or
Ena
. Even one such as Aya didn't deserve
this.

Aya merely deserves a good slap and a cold bath
, she mused.

A large hill stood between her and the coming men. Between the hill and the river was a small grouping of trees and shrubs. They would make their stand there. Ember had a short while to wait before the men came and she would need to act fast. If they turned out to be something other than
what
she had expected, she could stay hidden, and they would pass her trap. In the sandy dirt near the trees, the
wome
n quickly dug pits
a hand length across and deep. Using the small cooking sticks, Ember and Brig’dha sharpened their ends to make deadly spik
es.

Ember's palms were sweating, and her heart was starting to race as she wondered if she would finish before the men arrived. Quickly, she used one of the sharp steaks to punch holes in the dirt, in which Brig'dha then plopped a sharpened stake, point up. Brig'dha and Ember covered the stick traps, Ember's personal favorite trap, with grass and reeds. A foot would find those stick spike traps, placed an arm apart, with horrific results. Next, Ember laid six of her twelve arrows on the ground five lengths of a man beh
ind the traps by a
large bush
.

While Ember stood with her arms out stretched pointing at various landmarks and reciting some plan to herself, Brig'dha quickly started moving a large stone behind
the
bush
at Ember's request.
Brig'dha didn't really understand what Ember had in mind, but she couldn't argue with the woman who had saved her from a village of sacrifice-crazed people. Ember noticed the stone being moved by Brig'dha and quickly helped her finish placing it behind the bushes. Ember would fall back to this point if need be. Seeing the confusion in Brig'dha's eyes
,
Ember quickly ex
plained the plan.

“I-will meet-men.
I-will talk. If they-fight...”
Ember used her hands
to quickly
gesture her plan in trade tongue to Brig'dha, for they had little time remain
ing,
“...I-will hide, here, shoot. Y
ou-hide, tree. Run if I-die.”

Ember dipped her hand into her bag of black pigment and removed a glob of the black paint. She sang a quick and quiet song of luck to the Gods as she painted long lines across and down Brig'dha's face. Brig'dha did nothing but stand there wide eyed and fearfully as she was quickly painted. Afterward, Ember held the bag for Brig'dha to use. Brig'dha gave Ember an incredulous look, but took a finger glob of paint and applied Ember's dots just below her eyes moving horizontally. She had seen Ember use them before and knew how Ember liked them painted. Afterward, she quickly added a swirl around Embers forehead. This was a simple healing rune known to her people. She hoped it would be of help. Ember finished her song and gave Brig'dha a wink.

Brig'dha gave Ember a fearful look, her chest heaving with anticipation, and trotted off behind the tree, her flint knife in hand. She looked like she might cry. Ember wasn't sure if Brig'dha would hold together if she fell, but she had to try. As the time of the encounter approached
,
Ember took stock in herself. She was fit and
sound,
and all of her wounds had long since healed, but still, each of those men was physically her better. If it came down to
a brawl, she would surely die.
Any man could easily deliver a punch which would outright destroy a woman. Her plan involved keeping the men at a standoff distance and exchanging arrow fire. She had been practicing and felt that she could shoot
them if they were close enough.

Thank you for the lessons Sv'en. May you and Eva have a hundred funny children
, she thought with a wavering smile. With this in mind, Ember nocked an arrow and held another in the same hand she held the bow, parallel to the bow, for easy access. She gave Brig'dha
one last smile for good luck.

As the men approached
,
Ember sat on the ground low behind a bush watching. She slowly traced a circular moon shape on the ground, quietly chanting a prayer to her Gods. Her fear felt like a drowning cold and sinking feeling. She was finding it hard to keep from screaming or crying. Her spike traps, a personal favorite, were down the path farther. Ember planned to get a closer look before she moved to the ambush location. She hoped she would remember the path through the deadly traps when the time came. The women had done a good job masking them.

As Ember waited, the first man walked over the hilltop. He was like most of the men from the river tribes, having brown scraggly hair and a generally pointy face. The weather was still cold at night and cool in the day, so he wore a leather shirt and a beaded necklace with leather leggings and a deer hide breechcloth. He walked on what looked like soft leather boots and wore a tall deer skin hat. Ember hoped he would look evil to her, somehow, making this easier, but he looked like any other man she had seen. For a moment, she wondered if he could be like Pak, a reluctant participant; but no, he would have
his chance just as the others.

The other people came now into view. In total, there were three men in the front, each similarly dressed, and each armed with a bow
,
and two men in the back also dressed and armed similarly. In between the five men were three young women bound from behind. They wore leather skirts and aprons and leather shirts for the cold, much as Ember's
people
but with sad and resigned expressions. Each had red rimmed eyes and a defeated look about them. There was no escape, and they knew it.
Their
lives as they had
been
were over. They had accepted their fate. Ember was tired of fate and the price it seemed
that
people were willing to pay. Ember would see to it that this didn't come to pass for she
knew just what sort of fear the women
now faced. The oldest woman was just a hair older looking than Ember, and the youngest was barely
old enough to take as a wife.

“This will not be
,
” she whispered as she slipped away from the bushes and moved off towards the ambush point. She hoped that
she
had not been heard.

The men came along talking and laughing, obviously pleased with their raid. They carried themselves like big strong men should, but they looked none too old for such a swagger. They were obviously recently come of age and in need of a trophy to secure their places. Ember would give each one of them a
handmade
arrow head of the finest quality, imported even, to show the Gods in the afterlife! She breathed deeply as her fear danced up and down her spine. This was it...

Ember
stood from behind a bush and walked with a hip swaying female walk from the bushes to stand before the men, blocking their path. She hoped the extra feminine demeanor would throw them off. The entire group came to an abrupt stop. The man in the front had to consciously close his open mouth. In his midst stood a young woman, barely a woman, holding a nocked bow as though she knew how to use it and with a determined, though fearful, look about her. The most intimidating feature about her was her waist length red hair and bright green eyes
. They gave her a surreal look.

“Stop! Do you understand me?”
she
asked
as forcefully as she could in her native tongue. The lead man looked at her incred
ulously and cocked an eyebrow.

“Do-You
,
Understand?” she
asked
again, but in the trade language.
The man listened and then turned to his party with a
laugh
.

“I guess she has come to return the women? Perhaps this is some sort of joke?” he said to his party in his native language.
Ember didn’t know what he said, but she could guess, given his tones. Turning to Ember, he spoke in the trade language.

“Come woman. We-are five, we-have only take-three
,
”
he
replied in the trade language with a laugh. He gestured to the women behind him and turned to laugh with his fellow raiders. Did he think this a joke? Did he find this humorous? Only took three, as though that made it okay? Ember would try once more.
She lifted the bow towards the
man and gave him a deadly look.

“let-go women, or-die
,”
she said, slowly pulling back on
the
arrow. He slowly turned back towards Ember with a half humorous look of disbelief. Here, he was being threatened by a woman!? Barely a woman at that. He stepped back from the front and stood beside one of the slaves. This was surely a story to tell later to a disbelieving audience. With that, he reached forward and placed his hand against the face of the lead girl who cr
inged at his touch.