It happened slowly. I did not see it at the time. I was young.
My father had been chieftain of 300 spears for 12 years. He had been given the Antlers a few years after I was born. He was tough, stronger than a buffalo and trying to live up to it.
The emissaries came in Spring, and the friendship treaty was signed by Fall. By the next Spring the villages were “protected” or in flames, our people dead or worse, slaves. The people of the Land, beasts of burden. My father still wore the Antlers, only because his head was physically attached to his shoulders. I was sent to their capital as a diplomatic guest.
I watched the guards for seven moons. On the eighth, two were licking wounds, two quickly gave up the chase, and I was running for home. When I arrived at the enclave, I began probing for a way to our longhouse and snuck through the sentries. I got to the South door, quietly slid it open, and by some strange force flew backward into the frigid, slushy mud.
I start to rise, something hard smashes into my head. Strong hands, shackles and I am hauled away, half dragged. By the sleeves, they are emissaries. My skull sings with pain, blood flows over my ear, moving toward torchlight. Dim shapes double in my vision, I try to shake my head clear, now blood is in my eye. I make out landmarks, near the temple. Six or eight people, blurry in the flickery glow, stand, waiting near the out sanctum. I know who they are.
Pushed near, I lock eyes with my Father then roughly steered away. Each arm tied to the pillars, heavy ropes anchor me in place. Just possible to see them out of the corner of my eye. They talk and glance, then walk out of sight. I shout for my father!
As dawn approached, the tribe stirs, the smell of breakfast fires stoke. After a time, I hear footsteps as one or a few come the temple. Then more and more, it seemed the whole of the Bear clan was behind me. I can make out a few faces by turning this way and the other. My sister, Aleshanee, some elders and clan mothers. My father with his Antlers and ceremony robes, flanked by emissaries, grim faced, hands on their castle-forged steel.
One nods, and my father says I have betrayed the tribe, that I have murdered and lied. Failed to keep my post and do my duty. Broken my vow given to the great spirit as a warrior to protect my people. I am to be cast out, no longer of the People, that he has no son! With my head turned nearly to the breaking point, I try to say I only came back to be with the family, to fight the emissaries with him, but I don’t know if he heard me. A moment later I take a hard blow from my blindside, and then another, and another. I don’t know if it was emissary or clan.
One by one they came and made the small cut with their knife. I did not count, only gritted my teeth, and eventually my Bear clan tattoo was sliced away. Tears fell away from my face, but not from the pain. You can see here on my arm under the new one, the scar of the old.
Then the voice of the emissary came loudly, telling the tribe that I was a murderer, that I had killed my unarmed caretakers by trickery, broke faith with my people’s treaty, was now an enemy of the emissary’s nation. That I would die by crucifixion if I returned. She then put a hand on Aleshanee’s shoulder and said that my family was under their protection, as long as I did not come back.
She said I would now be punished in the name of those I had murdered. I yelled out that I had killed no one, and was about to shout that these were all lies, when more blows cracked into my skull. It didn’t matter now anyway. They tore away my clothes. I looked back as best I could, settling my woozy vision on an emissary holding a strange-looking whip.
The impact felt like many wasps stings on my back. The scorpion’s metal barbs where then whipped back the other way, rending my skin. It took a moment for agony to swell to its full measure. I was shocked at how massive the pain was. Then the next strike hit, traveling through my flesh, into my soul and out of my mouth as a pitiful howl. Again and again the scorpion came. This time my tears are from the pain, but I am not ashamed. I will not tell of it more because I have no memory of the final lashes. There is no need anyway. You can see the stains on my back.
Eventually I was awake, staked out in the back of a cart face down, bouncing down a trail. Every bump and jostle an anguish. Sold to a strange race of men with eyes like snakes and tongues like lizards. Who then sold me to men of the sea in jerkins of black and scarlet. I rowed and rowed. Around the great ocean, I rowed. Up and down rivers. I became strong in body. Many, many whip snaps, as I fetched and carried cargo to and from. And then rowed more. Had the mother spirit forsaken me, along with my clan? Or was this my path? Sometimes I felt her hand on my cheek, sometime she was far away.
One day in calm waters, with the oars docked and the sail full, the crew started shouting and running on the upper deck. I had picked up some of their language and they were under attack. I check no one is watching, reach down, give the metal ring I had been working on a good tug with my chain and it comes out with thwop. I felt the attacking ship bump alongside and men start to scream and ululate their battle cries. I stood, scooped up my chain and began stalking up to the deck. The first black and scarlet started to tell me to sit down below in the moment before he realized I wasn’t going to. The chain smashed into his face and then again, denting his eye socket into his skull. I picked up his cutlass and went to find more. It had been many moons since I had smiled. I beamed then, as wide as one can.
The black and scarlet were doing well at keeping the bulk of the attacking party across the ramps. I was not going back below. I saw my chance slipping away as another boarder fell under the spears and swords of may captors. I was through with the lash. I was not going back! The anger and frustration and heartache come up as a storm wave and I heard myself whoop my war cry and crashed forward with all my strength into the black and scarlet, slicing, bashing, stabbing, smashing again, again, again. I have little memory of it, mostly of regaining my senses and becoming aware the dead and dying all around me, and then noticing the surprised faces from the enemy of my enemy.
They hacked off my shackles and spoke enough Common to tell me I could take whatever weapons, clothes and other gear I wanted. They gave me a small purse of coins and baubles and asked if I wanted to sign on as crew, as a free mate. I said I had enough of ships, and they bade me farewell, turning to offload what goods they had from their catch.
I had no idea where I was. I had no clear way home, nor could I risk Aleshanee by trying. I was in the place between life and death. Or maybe somehow made the step to next life without the long sleep. I could only go on and see where my path led. Wait for a sign from the great spirit. I looked up to the sky, pulled in a full, free breath and strode forward.
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It happened slowly. I did not see it at the time. I was young.
My father had been chieftain of 300 spears for 12 years. He had been given the Antlers a few years after I was born. He was tough, stronger than a buffalo and trying to live up to it.
The emissaries came in Spring, and the friendship treaty was signed by Fall. By the next Spring the villages were “protected” or in flames, our people dead or worse, slaves. The people of the Land, beasts of burden. My father still wore the Antlers, only because his head was physically attached to his shoulders. I was sent to their capital as a diplomatic guest.
I watched the guards for seven moons. On the eighth, two were licking wounds, two quickly gave up the chase, and I was running for home. When I arrived at the enclave, I began probing for a way to our longhouse and snuck through the sentries. I got to the South door, quietly slid it open, and by some strange force flew backward into the frigid, slushy mud.
I start to rise, something hard smashes into my head. Strong hands, shackles and I am hauled away, half dragged. By the sleeves, they are emissaries. My skull sings with pain, blood flows over my ear, moving toward torchlight. Dim shapes double in my vision, I try to shake my head clear, now blood is in my eye. I make out landmarks, near the temple. Six or eight people, blurry in the flickery glow, stand, waiting near the out sanctum. I know who they are.
Pushed near, I lock eyes with my Father then roughly steered away. Each arm tied to the pillars, heavy ropes anchor me in place. Just possible to see them out of the corner of my eye. They talk and glance, then walk out of sight. I shout for my father!
As dawn approached, the tribe stirs, the smell of breakfast fires stoke. After a time, I hear footsteps as one or a few come the temple. Then more and more, it seemed the whole of the Bear clan was behind me. I can make out a few faces by turning this way and the other. My sister, Aleshanee, some elders and clan mothers. My father with his Antlers and ceremony robes, flanked by emissaries, grim faced, hands on their castle-forged steel.
One nods, and my father says I have betrayed the tribe, that I have murdered and lied. Failed to keep my post and do my duty. Broken my vow given to the great spirit as a warrior to protect my people. I am to be cast out, no longer of the People, that he has no son! With my head turned nearly to the breaking point, I try to say I only came back to be with the family, to fight the emissaries with him, but I don’t know if he heard me. A moment later I take a hard blow from my blindside, and then another, and another. I don’t know if it was emissary or clan.
One by one they came and made the small cut with their knife. I did not count, only gritted my teeth, and eventually my Bear clan tattoo was sliced away. Tears fell away from my face, but not from the pain. You can see here on my arm under the new one, the scar of the old.
Then the voice of the emissary came loudly, telling the tribe that I was a murderer, that I had killed my unarmed caretakers by trickery, broke faith with my people’s treaty, was now an enemy of the emissary’s nation. That I would die by crucifixion if I returned. She then put a hand on Aleshanee’s shoulder and said that my family was under their protection, as long as I did not come back.
She said I would now be punished in the name of those I had murdered. I yelled out that I had killed no one, and was about to shout that these were all lies, when more blows cracked into my skull. It didn’t matter now anyway. They tore away my clothes. I looked back as best I could, settling my woozy vision on an emissary holding a strange-looking whip.
The impact felt like many wasps stings on my back. The scorpion’s metal barbs where then whipped back the other way, rending my skin. It took a moment for agony to swell to its full measure. I was shocked at how massive the pain was. Then the next strike hit, traveling through my flesh, into my soul and out of my mouth as a pitiful howl. Again and again the scorpion came. This time my tears are from the pain, but I am not ashamed. I will not tell of it more because I have no memory of the final lashes. There is no need anyway. You can see the stains on my back.
Eventually I was awake, staked out in the back of a cart face down, bouncing down a trail. Every bump and jostle an anguish. Sold to a strange race of men with eyes like snakes and tongues like lizards. Who then sold me to men of the sea in jerkins of black and scarlet. I rowed and rowed. Around the great ocean, I rowed. Up and down rivers. I became strong in body. Many, many whip snaps, as I fetched and carried cargo to and from. And then rowed more. Had the mother spirit forsaken me, along with my clan? Or was this my path? Sometimes I felt her hand on my cheek, sometime she was far away.
One day in calm waters, with the oars docked and the sail full, the crew started shouting and running on the upper deck. I had picked up some of their language and they were under attack. I check no one is watching, reach down, give the metal ring I had been working on a good tug with my chain and it comes out with thwop. I felt the attacking ship bump alongside and men start to scream and ululate their battle cries. I stood, scooped up my chain and began stalking up to the deck. The first black and scarlet started to tell me to sit down below in the moment before he realized I wasn’t going to. The chain smashed into his face and then again, denting his eye socket into his skull. I picked up his cutlass and went to find more. It had been many moons since I had smiled. I beamed then, as wide as one can.
The black and scarlet were doing well at keeping the bulk of the attacking party across the ramps. I was not going back below. I saw my chance slipping away as another boarder fell under the spears and swords of may captors. I was through with the lash. I was not going back! The anger and frustration and heartache come up as a storm wave and I heard myself whoop my war cry and crashed forward with all my strength into the black and scarlet, slicing, bashing, stabbing, smashing again, again, again. I have little memory of it, mostly of regaining my senses and becoming aware the dead and dying all around me, and then noticing the surprised faces from the enemy of my enemy.
They hacked off my shackles and spoke enough Common to tell me I could take whatever weapons, clothes and other gear I wanted. They gave me a small purse of coins and baubles and asked if I wanted to sign on as crew, as a free mate. I said I had enough of ships, and they bade me farewell, turning to offload what goods they had from their catch.
I had no idea where I was. I had no clear way home, nor could I risk Aleshanee by trying. I was in the place between life and death. Or maybe somehow made the step to next life without the long sleep. I could only go on and see where my path led. Wait for a sign from the great spirit. I looked up to the sky, pulled in a full, free breath and strode forward.