The Tundra Shall Burn!

by Ken Altabef

  The Morning Dawn frowned. “Really, what do you expect of me? I can do nothing.”

  “I thought--” Qiana turned her head sharply to the side then back again. “I just want to end the fighting. The owls won’t even talk to us.”

  “I can do nothing,” repeated the Dawn. “I am only an old ghost, alone in an empty house.”

  Nunavik suddenly heard the echoes of another voice carried up from far below. It was Kaokortok shouting in strident tones. “Nunavik, you must return this instant. Nunavik, get down here right now!”

  Nunavik became alarmed. “So sorry to interrupt,” he said to the Dawn, “but I was — it’s a long way down — you said you would help--”

  “Yes, yes,” said the Dawn, now growing a bit annoyed. “Qiana dear, show this fellow the way back down, would you please?”

  The sparrow shaman squawked slightly. “Down? What could be easier than down?” She squinted at Nunavik with her tiny black eyes. “Well, all right. Follow me.”

  She fluttered her wings.

  Nunavik looked questioningly up at her.

  “Fly!” she said. She beckoned with stretched wing, mid-stroke. “Just fly!”

  Nunavik realized he was being foolish. A soul did not need wings to fly. His soul had left his great bulk behind; he weighed nothing at all. He lifted himself up, picturing a great graceful sailing vessel with the shape of a proud bull walrus, sailing the skies

  Qiana led him in a soft spiral down from the palace.

  “Why do you call her the Morning Dawn?” he asked.

  “Because she paints the sky red twice every day,” explained the bird. “At sunrise she’s red with rage as the sun comes up and her beloved Moon must go away, and at sunset she glows with happiness that she may see him once again.”

  Or shame, thought Nunavik.

  “That’s why I came to her with my problem,” explained Qiana. “Warring clans of sparrows I can handle, but the owls are cold killers invading our territory. Bloodthirsty spirits at war! They fly by night, when we are asleep, so we can only fight at dawn and dusk. The Dawn doesn’t like our fighting during her special time, so I thought she might help. But she refuses to decide things; she can’t show favoritism to one side or the other.” She puffed up her downy chest. “But we have the stronger claim--”

  “Nunavik!” called Kaokortok in a frenzied voice. “Now before it’s too late. Now!”

  “What is it?” asked the walrus, projecting his thoughts back down to earth.

  “There are Tanaina hunters here and you lying defenseless out on the ice. I’ve convinced them I’ve killed you but they insist on cutting you up. I can’t stop them!”

  Apparently Qiana heard it too. She tittered a little sparrow giggle and Nunavik felt himself propelled rapidly down. He fell completely out of his control, certain he would die at the end, splattered on the pack ice, if souls could splatter against ice. But he felt the sparrow’s gentle hand at the end, easing his soul back into his body as it lay on the icy shelf. She pecked him softly on the cheek, and was gone.

  Nunavik opened his eyes, taking a ragged breath of the cool air of Nunatsiaq. The two Tanaina hunters stood over him, knives at the ready.

  The walrus did not hesitate but let out a fearsome, bone-rattling bellow. The hunters jumped back.

  “I told you!” said Kaokortok. “I told you his spirit did not rest easy!”

  Nunavik sat up with a lurch and flailed his tusks as if half-dead, still sounding off long and loud. He ended the bellow with a flourish, a tortured twist that curdled whatever was left of the men’s resolve. The knives flew from the hunters’ hands and, wide-eyed, they made for their kayak.

  Kaokortok laughed. “That was a close call, my friend. It’s good that I was here.”

  Nunavik didn’t think it funny at all. If he continued to travel outside his body he was certain to be killed. And depending on that idiot Kaokortok for protection was not the way to go.

  And that was his problem. He was enamored of the gift the golden starfish had granted him and longed to take flight again and again, but each time he risked finding himself dead when he might return. If his body should die bereft of his soul he didn’t know what might happen.

  CHAPTER 27

  A SECRET PLACE

  Each day and night Nunavik looked upon dawn and dusk with new eyes, and came to love the Morning Dawn from afar. That tragic woman, alone on her roof. He wanted to visit with Qiana and the sparrows, and the sylphs that lived unseen in each breeze, and even the talkative Gull people.

  Shuffling about inside his dreary cave, Nunavik was slowly starving. Food hardly seemed to matter to him as he lost interest in worldly affairs. Kaokortok came rarely to visit and offered some few pointers regarding the Way of the shamans, but the Tungus shaman eventually met an unfortunate end out on the tundra. He stumbled into a deep crevasse which lay hidden beneath a thin layer of crust and, begging help from his guardian spirit the master of the Voles, he attempted to fly himself out. The silly fool came roaring up too fast and at an impossible angle, cracking his skull against a rocky outcropping. After his death, Kaokortok’s spirit bade its final farewell to Nunavik before he went to join his fellow shamans in the sky.

  Nunavik felt truly alone. He had become a shambling cave-bound creature living out his last days in loneliness and misery. And then he hit upon a singular idea. With the benefit of Kaokortok’s sigils, he retained the ability to hide his soul within his left tusk. This alone had kept him safe from Sedna’s wrath. But the technique might have another use as well. Nunavik placed his soul within the ivory tooth and then, levering his tusk between two rocks, he snapped it off. Suddenly he was free of his body, the hunger and everything else. His spirit inhabited the tusk alone. His body had become useless to him, and at last he left it for the hunters. He was free to travel wherever he wanted.

  Nunavik assayed once again to the heights of the Upperworld. The Gull People met him immediately, and with a great commotion of squawks, squeaks and raucous crooning. It seemed all of them were aware of his previous visit. With all the constant chattering that was their nature, information passed among them rapidly. A golden walrus, well, that would not soon be forgotten. He asked them for news of the war between the owls and the sparrows. Many casualties were reported on both sides, but thankfully Qiana was not among them.

  Nunavik sought out the kingdom of the spirit owls.

  The throne room of Strixulula was set in a high roost on the night side of the Upperworld. The owl-king sat perched on a nest of thorny wood, flanked by two of his best lieutenants, all decked out in their war armor. Their wings were gilded with silver and brass from shoulder to edgefeather, and their fearsome talons tipped with sharpened steel. The king himself wore an iron helm, inscribed with intricate scrollwork that covered all of his head except for the sharp curve of his beak. The helmet did not conceal his eyes, large and yellow, which beamed forth a cold and merciless stare.

  “What’s this?” demanded Strixulula. “Who? Who?”

  Nunavik sailed into the king owl’s chambers, carrying himself proud and sure, a great golden sailing ship.

  “I am Nunavik, also called Walrus On The Ice, lord of the walrus and the giant squid. Killer for hire.”

  The walrus flashed his long, ivory spirit-tusks and puffed his barrel chest. Never had a more fearsome fiend, such a bloated monster from the depths, been seen in the house of Strixulula, he was certain. To cap it all off, he brought forth a frightening bellow that would have made his father, Big Bellow, proud.

  The two lieutenants, who certainly had never set eyes on a walrus before, cocked their heads back in surprise, their skinny legs trembling.

  Strixulula leaned forward, cruel eyes flashing. “What do you want here?”

  Nunavik wasted no time. “You are currently at war with the sparrows, correct?” He did not even wait for confirmation. “I am here to help you with your problem.”

  “Help? What can you do?”

  Nunavik laughed, ano
ther hearty and ferocious sound peculiar to walruses. One of the lieutenants fell from his perch.

  “What can I do?” He inflated his chest even further. “I crush my enemies like that!” He slapped his front flippers together. Spap! “I smash and destroy and rend and tear flesh from bone!” Thinking this not enough he added, “I command an army from the depths of the sea. Such fearsome creatures you have never seen. My friend is the killer whale, his body longer than any owl could fly in a single night, his skin smooth and glistening black and white, his mouth full of sharp teeth. My soldiers are the octopus and the squid. Each one of them has eight tentacles to crush and squeeze the life out any who oppose me.”

  The owl-king seemed impressed. His eyes bulged avariciously. “Such an army…”

  Nunavik went on, “Why, I could even muster a few sharks if I needed to.”

  “What are sharks?” asked Strixulula cautiously.

  “Ha! They are the killing machines of the sea. Sleek, powerful fighters. Their mouths have row upon row of sharp teeth. Why, any one of them could gobble a hundred birds at once. They could end your war in a single night.”

  Strixulula bounced up and down on his branch with excitement.

  “I see,” he said, hardly able to contain his glee. “Yes, we would very much like your help. “Tell me, what is your price to destroy all the sparrows?”

  Nunavik scowled back at him. “Kill the sparrows? You misunderstand. The sparrows have hired me to kill all the owls.”

  The second lieutenant toppled from his perch. He crashed down to lay prostrate on the floor of the roost beside his brother at arms.

  “But... you said you would help…” said Strixulula.

  “My help was delivered. I warned you of my impending attack. And, as I have completed that mission, I go now to rally my forces.” Nunavik levitated his bulky spirit-form from the ledge.

  “But you must have suspected…” said Strixulula, “in coming here to warn us that we might, in turn, attack you.”

  Nunavik laughed again, loud enough to shake the entire roost. He turned to leave.

  “Wait! Wait!” shouted Strixulula.

  “Yes?”

  “I’ll pay you, in whatever coin you want. We have gold and jewels and… everything else. Much more than the sparrows, I am sure.”

  Nunavik scowled. “What do you take me for? I am a walrus of principle. Once I have agreed to destroy an entire civilization, I can not be bribed from that course! Shame on you! I suggest you accept your fate with a little dignity sir, as befits a king.” He turned away again.

  “Wait!” called Strixulula. “Is there not something that we could do? Some bargain we might yet strike… to avert the disaster?”

  Nunavik appeared pensive. “Bargain? Hmmm. It might be possible… but no.”

  “What? What?”

  “It’s conceivable the sparrows would accept a compromise. This entire war struck me as foolish from the start, I must say. Then again, I am a veteran of so many thousands of battles, I see things differently. But since the owls only fly by night, and the sparrows by day, why is it you can not strike an accord with them? Share the sky, in turns as it were, by night and day? Terms could be hammered out.”

  “We’ll do it!” cried Strixulula. “Take my offer to the sparrows. Please!”

  “Hmmm, I would…” said Nunavik. “But if your offer of peace were accepted, I’d lose out on the fee for my services. A veritable fortune. No, I’m afraid that is unacceptable.”

  “We will pay you!”

  Nunavik smiled, thinking back on it all. The truce was brokered and he had become quite a wealthy spirit among the Upperworld clans. In fact Qiana and Strixulula were later married, with Nunavik an honored guest at the feast.

  On the physical plane, Nunavik’s tusk was passed down among the people of Nunatsiaq. Kaokortok’s designs were unusual and ascetically pleasing, though none guessed their true purpose. Eventually a shaman got hold of it and then the tusk then went exclusively from shaman to shaman. Meanwhile Nunavik travelled extensively among the spirit worlds, living thousands of fabulous dreams among the airy denizens of the Upperworld as well as the timid tree-dwelling creatures of Lowerworld. He even ventured forth to the Celestial sphere on occasion, becoming the first and only walrus ever to set foot on the Moon.

  He amassed twelve hundred years of knowledge and experience and watched closely the affairs of mankind. The people, however, seemed more and more idiotic to him as time went on. Where they had at first been content to share resources and aid each other in survival, they became increasingly willing to squabble and fight for any ridiculous little reason or none at all. The tusk passed along down the line from shaman to shaman, and Nunavik learned more and more secrets of the spirit world. He did not respond to petty fools, but to some he offered his acquaintance and advice, and so it had been with Old Manatook and at last with Alaana.

  Only one place did he dare not venture, the one place he longed most to go, which was the sea. And for good reason.

  Now he was trapped beneath the waves! Alone in his spirit-tusk with that hideous sea scorpion snapping at his heels. And all because of those silly lake children. He wondered where they could have gone?

  Siqi yelped in surprise. The amazement she had felt at seeing all the other fish had suddenly been replaced by sheer terror. Too much was happening at once.

  One moment she was basking in the magnificence of the sea and all the new, wondrous creatures it contained. They came in schools and swarms, weaving and playing through the kelp, in all the colors of the rainbow, flitting and lurking, peeking and retreating, spinning and darting away. The water itself seemed fascinating and new, tasting of salt and exotic fish. Something about its very texture made Siqi feel lighter and faster.

  Then suddenly she came face to face with the worst horror she could ever have imagined. A pair of merciless eyes goggled at her from bony sockets. The gargoyle-fish cut through the water, approaching her from below. As its huge jaw, full of pointed teeth, snapped at her, Siqi was able to dart to the side with a little flip she had practiced so many times at play in the lake. The mouth of the gargoyle-fish snapped shut, missing its mark. As it turned around, its hard, armored flank struck Siqi a solid thump, sending her tumbling away. She heard Uuna cry out.

  And then the sea was on fire. A blaze of red and orange exploded before Siqi’s startled eyes. The water rippled torrentially and everything, including the ghastly creature that had attacked her, was scattered in the wake.

  Sedna, Mistress of the Sea, had arrived. Siqi stopped to stare, having forgotten even that her life was in mortal danger, but all the rest had stopped too, stifling the danger mid-stroke as time seemed to draw still. She marveled at the cold-eyed woman, her hair wild and dark as it writhed and jabbed in the water like a nest of snakes, her flesh a cool, scaly green, slick with sea slime. Her power and bearing were unmistakable; Sedna was a queen of all the ocean as she turned her head to survey the scene, every creature frozen in motion, the water bubbling at her command, her green eyes staring coldly until they hit upon sight of Nunavik. And then her eyes bulged. Her thin blue lips parted, twisting into a cruel leer, exposing a row of sharp predatory teeth.

  Out of the corner of her eye Siqi saw Kktakaluk, Sedna’s mate, the giant sea scorpion, attack Nunavik. Siqi flitted toward a patch of relative safety alongside Ikik’s bulky form.

  “Where’s Uuna?” she whispered.

  “Don’t know,” her brother replied.

  Siqi searched frantically around, fearing the worst.

  “Run, Children!” said Nunavik. “Hurry. Fly away!”

  The battle was joined by another great spirit, its arrival heralded by a thunderclap so intense, Siqi’s ears nearly burst with a blast of painful pressure. She didn’t ever want to feel that again. The water frothed and heaved.

  “What’s happening?” she asked, but received no answer. Perhaps everyone’s ears were still ringing.

  And then there were whales all around. A
nd Siqi marveled again. These creatures were so huge and so elegant, resembling Ikik in many ways except they were gray and black, such formal colors compared to the bright orange skins of the lakespawn. They all seemed so stately and impressive, so serious, so confident. Uuna sidled up to her and the three lakespawn were caught in the middle of a large grouping of whales. Some were very old with barnacles crusted on their hides, and some had smaller fish leeching onto their backs as well. The whales moved gracefully, as if nothing could possibly panic or frighten them. And Siqi felt a sense of comfort in their midst.

  The water continued to churn and shake and Siqi heard the roar of some enormously powerful spirit as it confronted Sedna. The shockwaves caused by the skirmish were too intense, even for the bowheads and humpbacks. It was clear they could not remain. The whales all instinctively took flight, moving as one with perfectly timed movements so natural and unrehearsed the lake children were drawn along without pausing to think. It seemed the thing to do, and Uncle Walrus had already ordered them to flee. They felt safe amid the seething mass of whales. Who wouldn’t?

  Siqi struggled to keep up with the pack. The massive Ikik fit right in, and Uuna was the swiftest of them all. Siqi was the smallest, pumping her tail as fast as it would go. She felt fearful and excited. But every time she began to fall behind, one of the other whales would provide a gentle nudge, as they would any of their own offspring. That boost propelled her with a speed greater than her own lashing tail could provide. With that help, Siqi settled into the rhythm of the pack, Nunavik all but forgotten.

  As they travelled, some of the whales began to sing. Siqi thought it the most wonderful sound she had ever heard. It was as if the sleek, smooth lines of the whales as they undulated through the waters were translated into the haunting high melodies of their whalesong. This was a language unknown, but it brought to her mind both a sad longing and the playful happiness of the sea.

  Their flight ended in a large grotto surrounded by rocky walls on three sides. The lakespawn marveled at the colorful coral crusting the rock surfaces and all the wee folk who peeked nervously out at them from within. The floor of the cavern was littered with the scattered remains of things made by men, beams of wood and shiny metal, such as Nunavik had described to them as a boat.