A6: The Fire

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three

Chapter Four

A6 consumed her dried fish fiber by fiber interspersed with a few ice chips. Finally the guard came around again, necessitating the quick gulp and swallow of the remaining ice chips and fish. The guard led her and a few others to another part of the field.

She began again the meaningless work. No one knew for sure what the great spirit would look like. Kaufa believed the spirit was trapped inside a gem. A ruby, sapphire or emerald hidden somewhere in this vast ice field. He believed he was destined to have the powers of the great spirit. Many believed his quest was driving him mad. He was becoming more ruthless in his raids of the villages. Terrorizing the occupants and depriving them of their young men and women. Subjecting them to his search for this mystical and probably mythical spirit.

A6 didn't know any of the history behind her subjugation other than she was to work to pay her father's debt to Kaufa. She had no memory of her father. No memory of any family. She would not be released from the debt until Kaufa found the spirit or she died.

Many years of searching provided nothing. There was nothing out here and the field was so vast. A6 was beginning to understand that she was doomed to die here. There was no spirit. She was one of many victims of a deranged man's fantasy.

This is why she fought the memories and visions that where creeping into her mind. They made reality so much more painful. Why couldn't she shut her emotions off and be numb again? Why was this happening now, after so many years of denial?

It was the old woman. It began with her, A6 concluded. Then the bird came. It seemed to follow her on the field now. Every morning, no matter where she was on the field, the bird came and circled a few times above in the sky, then left. No one else seemed to notice it. The bird made it difficult for her to push away the gnawing memory, but it's consistency was a source of comfort to her.

It was large, probably half her size. It was mostly brown with gray flecks on its wing tips. It's eyes were fierce. It's beak was a dull yellow. Sometimes A6 saw a small animal clutched in its talons. This surprised her. She wondered where the bird found the small creature. Surely not from here.

Today the bird circled many times around A6. She began to fear the guards would notice it and tried to shoot it down with stones or arrows. She tried to ignore it, and hoped it would leave her. What did a bird want with her anyway? It persistently continued to circle around and cried out in shrieks. A6 would not lift her head.

Finally, a guard came to inspect the noise. A6 flung her pick in the ground furiously, hoping to distract him. He stopped a moment, shook his head and left. A6 waited. There was no sound. She looked up. The bird was gone.

The sun had nearly gone from the horizon too. A6 gathered her ice pick and small food sack and headed for the camp.

The camp consisted of several very large tents surrounded by a wall of ice. The slaves' and prisoners' tents were divided inside by partitions. A long corridor connected 12 "rooms." Six on each side. Each slave was given a small, partitioned room within the tent. Guards and dogs were constantly patrolling in and out of the slave tents. On the west end of the ice wall stood the Aurians' tent. It was lined with fur and animal skins. A6 caught a glimpse into that tent one day on her way to the field. Just outside teh Aurians' tent burned the camp's one and only fire. Wood was brought by the wagon loads to support that fire. A6 never wondered where they came from. Why should she care?

The fire burned day and night and was the only source of heat for the guards and captains who stood around it. The slaves were not permitted such a luxury. By the time the warmth trickled out to A6's tent, it only took away the sting of the bitter cold and never really warmed her.

After she put away her things, A6 stood in line for her fish gruel. It was mercifully warm today. Typically, the slaves were served cold gruel. She was too hungry and tired to wonder at the change. After greedily swallowing all the broth and savoring the warm feeling in her stomach, she suddenly felt very weak. The ache across her back grew until it was almost crippling. Her head pounded and her throat burned. She stood up to return her bowl and collapsed. The fire and tents were spinning before her eyes. Not wanting to be noticed, she gathered up all her remaining strength and crawled to her tent.

She fell onto her little burlap blanket. Every gasp of air seemed to tear way the flesh inside her throat. Every muscle seemed to be on fire. Her shirt was soaked with perspiration. She shrugged out of her wool parka and other outer clothing. Her breath was hot. The image of a fire came into her mind.

Perhaps I am dying, she thought. If it will release me from this awful agony, I welcome it.

She closed her eyes and let all the images and memories that she had been resisting so fervently flow through her.

What does it matter now? No one cares about me or will even miss me. Not even the bird.

The fire in her mind grew brighter and the flames leaped at her feet. As she stared into the dancing flames a form began to take shape. A6 recognized the out line of a bird.

Entranced, she moved closer and closer to the flames until she was engulfed. The relief was immediate. She could not see, for all the brightness around her. After her eyes adjusted, she found the bird.

Not the large brown bird she had been expecting. It was a terrifying bird of fire with rich orange and red flaming wings. It was in front of her. Mechanically, she followed it through the excruciating brightness on to the shining white walls of a labyrinth. Slowly she turned one corner, then another. The bird began to fly faster and A6 ran to keep up. Turning and turning she ran effortlessly and joyfully, faster and faster until all of a sudden the bird was gone.

She was in a garden. There in the center of the garden stood the table. On top of the table was the golden bird cage, just as A6 remembered. The flowers and colors of the garden filled her senses. She breathed deeply and exhaled slowly. There was no pain. Smiling, she looked around the glorious vision drinking it all in. Death is wonderful, she thought. She let out a laugh and the sound rang in her ears sweeter than any music. She went to the golden cage. It was empty. She tried to remember the bird she was expecting. Milla, her pet.

Something moved in her periphery. Her eyes fell upon a weeping willow tree in the eastern corner of the garden. It was surround by a pond. There was a movement in the shadows beneath the long branches. Reluctant to be removed from that paradisaical spot, but curious to know what other creature shared this paradise, she held her breath and walked closer. As she neared the tree, a small hand reached out from the billowing branches and beckoned to her.

"It's about time, Ankita."