by neetha Napew
Within the cave, Umak, Karana, and Lonit slept heavily in the last, lingering shadows of the night. The dog rose and came to stand beside Torka. Tail tucked, ears back, head out, Aar stood at the lip of the cornice and surveyed the tundra. Now Torka was certain that he was dreaming. The dog never came close to him intentionally. They hunted together for Umak’s sake and they shared the same cave, also for Umak’s sake, and now for Karana’s as well; but Torka and Aar shared a mutual distrust. Aar had not forgotten that Torka had once tethered him, and Torka would not allow himself to forget that Aar was still a wild beast.
Now the beast was growling, so intent upon the vision that was rising in the lake of morning light that it paid no heed to Torka as he rose and stood.
Man and dog surveyed the world together. Slowly the light began to fade. Slowly the sound allowed definition. Torka stared in disbelief. He closed his eyes and stared again. The vision was still there, real. He was not dreaming. Slowly, from out of the northern sweep of the vast, undulating tundral steppe, people were coming toward the mountain.
PART IV.
WORLD SHAKER
They were not Karana’s people. The boy leaned on his crutch and stared down at them with a sinking heart that was buoyed only by the fact that they did not look like the Ghost Band either. They were a small, bedraggled band of fewer than thirty weary travelers. Their clothing was roughly made. They wore no labrets, nor were their faces painted, although they were so encrusted with soot and grime that at first they appeared black.
They paused at the base of the great peak, murmuring among themselves at the unprecedented sight of a wild dog keeping company with men.
Torka and Umak stood together on the ledge. Aar stood in front of them, barking and snarling as though he had appointed himself spokesman for his man-pack. Lonit and Karana stood to one side. When she leaned close to ask the boy if they were his people, he growled at her and shook his head in a vehement display of disgust.
“Karana’s band not look like that!”
His negative reaction affirmed Lonit’s growing feeling of foreboding. She did not like the look of the newcomers, but until Karana spoke, she was certain that her apprehension was caused by her resentment of them. After her lifetime of dreaming, Torka was her man at last. Alone in the world with him, she would be his woman forever. Together they would create a new band, and the People would be reborn. Now her dream was shattered. Among the people who stood looking up toward their aerie, there were bound to be women more worthy of Torka than she. He would not want Lonit anymore. She would be an embarrassment to him. When their child was born, he would not consent to hunt for it. He would turn his back upon them both.
Staring down at the newcomers, Lonit hated them and herself. If only she were not such an ugly, unworthy girl, she could rejoice at their coming. Yet, slowly, hope began to lessen her fear of them. Even from the distance, she could see that their clothes were ragged, not from wear but due to shoddy construction; it was as though the women who had sewn them had not bothered to take the time to fit them properly or stitch them with any care. The women stood apart from their men, bent nearly double under the weight of enormous, lumpy-looking packs. Lonit could see that their skirts were worn and uneven, neither fringed nor trimmed with any sort of contrasting fur. The men were also clad in ragged-edged garments. Other than their weaponry, they carried no loads at all. A few short, squat young boys were walking out of the main body of the group on either side of a bison-skin clad hunter who wore his stiff black hair pulled into a single tuft at the top of his head. Lonit stared. The tuft seemed to be spraying out of the man’s skull, but even though he walked into the wind, his hair was so stiff that it barely moved. He carried spears in both hands. With arms raised, he was shaking them as he cried out in a high voice that bespoke friendship.
“What dhag men. Galeena come! as frend!”
In his necklaces of wolf paws and freshly taken bear claws, Umak ignored the weakness that his scalp wound had brought on him. He stood as tall as he could. He held a spear arrogantly in one hand. He was determined to show only strength and disdain to the newcomers. He shared Lonit’s apprehension. He did not like the look of this band, and could not understand a word of the language that its headman had spoken. Karana was looking at him, waiting for him to respond with the infinite wisdom of a spirit master. Lacking such wisdom, Umak chose to remain silent for long moments during which he scowled with a great display of authority. His chin went up. His mouth turned down. His eyes half closed as though he were looking beyond this world into another plain of existence that only a spirit masters eyes could see.
“Dhag Men, Galeena come as frend! Dhag Men bahd been man of spaweh?”
The words of the tuft-headed man hung in the air. Torka frowned, straining to understand while Karana came close to Umak, impressed by his scowl and the wonderfully insolent way that he stood glowering down at the strangers. Wanting to win praise from the old man, Karana spoke. “Karana knows man talk. Man asks who on mountain. Man says his name Galeena. Galeena says he would come to us. He asks us not kill him. He says he friend. He calls this band Dog Men. He asks if Dog Men be men or spirit.”
Umak was impressed, as were Torka and Lonit. Torka nodded to show his approval.
“It is good that Karana knows the words of other bands,” he said.
“Hmmph,” Umak snorted, noting that Torka and Lonit knew what Karana had not yet discovered—that their spirit master’s knowledge was not limitless.
The boy was delighted by Torka’s compliment. He stood a little straighter and imitated Umak’s haughty demeanor. “Karana be like spirit master someday! Know all things. But Galeena speaks same words as Torka. Many bands, all speak same words. Just say different.”
Umak cocked his head. His scowl became a smile. He had been right when he had told Lonit that the People were like the great herds of caribou! They had been one at the beginning. Now they were many, and the words that they spoke were slowly changing as they ranged farther and farther from the center of Creation.
The light of comprehension was born within Umak. “Dhag Men .. . Dog Men. Galeena khum ah frend .. . Galeena comes as friend. Hmmph! It is good that this spirit master can speak to Galeena and his people.”
And this he did. He raised his spear arm and shook it. “Galeena khum ah frend! Umak is spirit master! He says to Galeena: Come! Be welcome! Dog Men have much meat to share!”
It was a mistake. The old man knew it a moment after Galeena came up onto the ledge with a half dozen of his hunters following right behind him. The stink of the strangers preceded them up the wall; and it was a more offensive stench than that in which Karana had wrapped himself for protection against predators. This was the stench of filth—of unwashed bodies and clothes and of something else, something threatening. Tension walked with these men. Karana had to kneel and put his arms about Aar to keep the dog from attacking. The animal lowered its head, and every hair upon its back stood on end as a low, steady growl came out of its snarling muzzle.
Umak did not have to look at Brother Dog to share its instinctive sense of danger. He was sorry that he had invited the newcomers without first conferring with Torka. If anything went wrong, Umak knew that he would be to blame. But what could go wrong? he asked himself. They were men. Hunters. Once they had washed themselves and aired their clothes, they would be no different from the men of the People who now lay looking at the sky. But why did they hold their weapons so defensively? Why had they brought none of their women and children up onto the mountain with them? Umak snorted quietly, assuring himself that the newcomers were afraid of those whose spirit master had bent the will of a wild dog so that even the smallest among them could touch the beast as though it were his brother. He stood a little taller. He scowled a little more disdainfully. It was good to know that men feared his powers once again.
Torka eyed the newcomers warily. His hand tightened around the sinew-wrapped haft of his whalebone bludgeon. He could not have said why he h
ad taken it up, but the moment the strangers had begun the ascent of the wall, he had felt the need to show them a sign of strength. Why? Men hefted weapons against game and predators, not against their fellow hunters. Men did not hunt men. Yet, the moment he had looked into Galeena’s small black eyes he had seen a bold rapaciousness in them that had made him glad that he held his weapon.
Galeena spoke. Politely.
Torka replied. Politely.
Galeena grinned, and all six of his spear-carrying fellow hunters grinned with him.
Torka felt fury race through his veins. Galeena was eyeing Lonit in a way that made Torka want to brain him. His fingers flexed around his weapon. “This woman is Torka’s woman, he told him in a tone that left no room for debate.
Lonit flushed. She bowed her head, dropping her lids, and moved to stand behind Torka, wanting to be shielded from the strangers sight. She did not like them. There was something in their eyes and smiles and the way that they carried their weapons that frightened her. She wished that they had never come. Yet, their coming had caused Torka to speak words that she had never thought to hear him speak to others. A new band had walked into their world, and Torka had not denied her. The realization was heady.
Galeena took a step forward. Aar nearly leaped out of Karana’s arms. Threatened by the dog, the man froze. His hunters aimed their spears at Aar. Karana felt suddenly lightheaded with fear, but he kept his place and tightened his grip around Aar’s neck. He knew that his little arms could not hold the dog if it chose to spring to the attack, but his softly spoken words kept the dog at his side. “Hold, Brother. Until Spirit Master speaks, these smelly ones are welcome among us.”
Galeena eyed the boy and the dog, measuring the moment and finding a powerful magic in it. He looked at Torka, saw his strength and unmistakable resolve to stand against any threat to his band. But it was such a small band: one hunter, an old man, a young woman, a boy, and a wild dog. A strange company, one to be wary of until Galeena was absolutely certain that it was not more than it appeared to be. “Yuh Dahg Men, spaweh pay eh?” he asked directly.
Torka strained to understand the words. Umak grasped their meaning and replied with pride. “Umak is spirit master!” When Galeena’s features clumped into a mass of humps and seams that showed his lack of comprehension, the old man repeated in the newcomer’s dialect. “Umak spaweh master Umak’s people .. . pay eh .. . you call Dog Men. We are strong with spaweh, spirit!” It would do no harm to embellish their status. The spirits of the mountain had been with them, allowing them a safe encampment, protecting them during the hunt. Umak was gratified to see the look of uncertainty and restrained awe upon the faces of the newcomers when they looked at Brother Dog. It made him feel almost omnipotent as he spoke to the strangers with his chin jabbing up and his eyes looking down his nose at them as though they were ignorant children coming to him for their first lesson in the wisdom of the People.
Galeena’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. He had not failed to note Umak’s tone of condescending superiority. He appraised the fresh scalp wound on the old man’s head and thought: He may command the spirits of this place and of that wild dog, but some animal did that to him. His magic is not so great. He is mortal, this spirit master. And those who stand with him, they are mortal, too. He nodded. He grinned, displaying brown, furred, wide-gapped teeth as though he considered them to be objects of beauty that all should admire and envy. He gestured outward, indicating the spacious ledge and the fine encampment that Lonit had made.
“Ghu camp this,” he said, openly coveting the many skins and racks of drying meat, fish, and fowl, as well as the sacks of dried berries and roots. Like Umak, Galeena had quickly grasped the subtle differences in the dialects of the two bands. He altered his own with pleasure, wanted Umak to know that, although he claimed to be a spirit master, he had misjudged Galeena’s potential for understanding. “Galeena’s band, we see fiah this camp from long far way. We come. Now we camp this camp. Be safe from Big Spirit in this high place we share with Dog Men.”
The world shook beneath Torka’s feet; yet the movement was within him as his heart leaped within his chest and nearly staggered him. Big Spirit?”
“You not know Big Spirit? Big Spirit shake world! Big Spirit kill many Galeena’s people. In far place, many die. Galeena’s band meets many bands at place where tundra and to rest meet. Much spruce there. Many mammoth browse where Corridor of Storms begins. Bad place. Mountains all ice there. High to sky. Walk like men. Make sound like women wailing. Wind never stop. Blow all time.”
“And Big Spirit?”
Galeena grunted, not wishing to be hurried by Torka’s impatient query. It required concentration to form the words in a way as to be understood by the Dog Men. “We make camp there. Where Corridor of Storm begins. We hunt mammoth. We kill. Many bands together. We take much meat. We feast. Then Big Spirit khums, hiding in skin of animal it khums .. . looking like mammoth it khums .. . but too big for mammoth. It kills. Many run. Its red eyes see all. Big Spirit follows. Its tusks kill men, like this!
Its feet kill women and children, like this! It cries out. Then it goes. And men come out of hiding. Men try to track Big Spirit, to kill Big Spirit. Rain khums. Much storm leaves no tracks to follow. But Galeena and his people, we say this good. We come far place. We seek high camp. Away from Big Spirit. Galeena says Big Spirit walks far tundra, looking for men to kill. And men cannot kill Big Spirit. It is like mountain. It lives forever!” He paused, observing the affect his words had on his listeners. “You, Torka, you know Big Spirit?” “Torka knows Big Spirit.”
“Torka meet in far place? Maybe Big Spirit kill many Torka’s band, too?”
“It is so.”
That why Torka’s band small! Very small. Torka bring to high place be safe! This good! This camp very good camp! Room for many. Galeena’s people, we come! We stay! We make one band with Dog People! Old man Spirit Master, he talk spirit talk for all! Galeena’s band, no spirit man us. Mammoth kill. Now good times for all together. Many make hunt safe! Many live easy! It be good thing!”
It was not a good thing. Galeena did not ask, he took. He put his weapons aside, but still he took. Peacefully, his people came up onto the ledge. They did not ask anything of its occupants. Their greater number allowed them the privilege of simply dropping their belongings wherever they wished. When Lonit attempted to direct the women to the part of the cave best suited to their needs, they swept her aside and ignored her protests. Suddenly, her orderly encampment was one of confusion and disarray as the women rifled through her stores and stuffed their mouths with berries and wedges of fat. Lonit stood back, waiting for Torka or Umak to come to her aid with them, but they had similar troubles of their own.
Galeena had clearly taken over. He barked commands to his surly hunters and kicked at the few young boys who were the only children in the band. One of them threw a short, poorly balanced spear in Aar’s direction. It missed the dog, but Karana did not miss the boy as he leaped at him and knocked him to the ground. Umak pulled them apart. Karana was so angry that he was oblivious to the pain in his leg; he knew only that Aar had disappeared.
“Brother Dog will come back,” assured Umak.
“To this? This no longer Torka’s cave! This Galeena’s wallow!” protested the child.
The boy was right. Galeena’s men were hunkering in the shadows, devouring Lonit’s carefully preserved meats. They tossed the scraps randomly about and relieved themselves at will, wherever and whenever the need presented itself.
“Over there ... on the sedges with that! And over the side with the rest of it! You keep that up and the whole ledge is going to smell like a bison wallow!” Torka raised his voice, then thought better of it. Galeena and his band already looked and smelled as though they had come up out of days of rolling in a muddy dung heap. And their numbers totally overwhelmed any authority that Torka attempted to maintain.
Torka watched them with thoughtful contemplation. They were a filthy, disgraceful
people. He had no doubt that, had he tried to stand against their occupancy of the ledge, they would have forced their way past him, even if they had to throw him off the mountain to do so. Still, given time, rest, and food, their manner was bound to improve. They too had suffered beneath the deadly shadow of the Destroyer. As much as Torka disliked them and was angered by their forced intrusion, he could frame no logical argument against Galeena’s intent to join forces and share the occupation of the ledge for the betterment of all. Adjustments would have to be made on both sides. And with other women to assist her, Lonit’s workload would be eased, and she would have those of her own gender to assist her at the birth of their child. Karana would have friends his own age. Umak would be able to be a spirit master again, with a real band to pay him homage. And he, Torka, would have men to hunt with; the dangers of the kill would be lessened considerably.
And Galeena was probably right about Big Spirit. His sentiments echoed Umaks certainties. The mammoth was a spirit. No man could hope to kill it—not without risking becoming a spirit himself. His eyes strayed to Lonit. She was coming toward him, clutching her personal belongings. Compared to the women of Galeena’s band, she was the most beautiful woman in the world. He was proud to know that he had put life into her belly. He recalled their many love makings and thought of the child that would be born to them toward the end of the time of the long dark. He imagined its cries and the smile that would dimple Lonit’s face and bring warmth to her antelope eyes when the infant at last took suck upon the firm, round breasts that he so cherished.
He smiled as she came to him. All thoughts of the great mammoth left his mind as he drew her close. Life was good. The future promised much to him. With Lonit as his woman, Torka was no longer ready to throw his life away. Galeena’s people ate as though they feared that they would never eat again. They stuffed themselves until it seemed that they could eat no more, but they did eat more. And more. Until Lonit protested to Torka that soon all of their winter provisions would be gone.