Beyond the Sea of Ice

by neetha Napew

  The dog whimpered and licked his face with increased enthusiasm.

  The boy touched the dog’s wounds and frowned. “So you have not been accepted by your own kind. Nor have I been by mine. Have you found a Galeena ruling the dog pack? Well, Karana has found a dog ruling the man-pack. You were right to run from Galeena. He is bad, as bad as the dog that did this to you, my brother.”

  They lay close, not sleeping, merely resting and finding comfort in their closeness. Deep within the mountain, the familiar restless surge of sound sighed and groaned and then was silent. Karana listened It was quiet .. . unnaturally quiet. With a start, he realized that the waterfalls that cascaded downward from the summit ice pack had frozen “It will be winter soon,” he whispered to the dog.

  Aar’s head was up. He listened to the silence and was as discomfited as the boy by it.

  “Karana does not think that he can spend an entire winter in this place with Galeena and his people. Karana is working hard to make the magic that will make them disappear.”

  The dog whined and licked his face; it was almost as though it had understood the child’s words and wished to tell him that, even though he was doomed to failure, Brother Dog would not judge him for it.

  Karana sighed, his enthusiasm for his ability as a magic maker quashed by common sense. “If Torka will not drive Galeena away, Karana will leave this place. Together we could be a band. Karana and Aar. It would not be a bad thing.”

  The dog sighed softly, and Karana lay still, thinking about what he had just said. It would not be a bad thing. It would be an impossible thing.

  Unless his leg healed.

  He closed his eyes. He would try to make the magic that would do that; it could not be as difficult as summoning the clouds. And he had done that, hadn’t he?

  He slept and dreamed of dark, savage miles of storm swept winter tundra, of children dying beneath the cold fire of the aurora borealis, and of a small boy following the flight of an eagle to a Mountain of Power where he had lived alone, as an animal, for far too long.

  He awoke with a start. The sun was rising above the snow-streaked mountain to the east. Brother Dog was gone. And for the first time since he had been trapped in Torka’s snare, his leg did not hurt at all. He watched the sun rise. He watched the sky spirits build a huge rainbow ring for the sun. It was extraordinary, filling the sky. Karana smiled. Clouds were gathering again. Slowly the circular rainbow faded, and the air began to grow warm. Karana knew that it was going to rain. He wished that Brother Dog had stayed to share the morning with him, for when the first raindrops began to fall, they made the morning more wonderful than any morning that had ever dawned before. These raindrops were special, for Karana knew that he had made them.

  His leg was aching again, but not so badly that he doubted his magic. It felt so much better, in fact, that he rose, took up his crutch of caribou antler, and tossed it off the ledge.

  He watched it fall. From now on, the only staff that he would carry would be the spear that Torka had made for him. Soon he would hunt again. Soon his people would return. Soon, if Umak refused to make the magic that would drive Galeena’s people away, Karana would do it instead. He would watch Umak’s every dance and gesture, memorize every nuance of every chant, and absorb the old man’s knowledge until he too was a spirit master. He would turn Galeena’s people into lemmings and order them to follow their filthy headman over the ledge to their deaths. Aar would come back then he was certain of that. And when his people returned, he would greet them with Brother Dog at his side. Umak would step forward in his bearskin, with his necklace of wolf paws and bear claws, the head of the great bear balanced atop his own. He would put a hand upon Karana’s shoulder. Together they would stand before Navahk, magic man, and Umak would say: “Behold Karana, Boy Who Brings Rain. Behold Karana, whose magic is strong in the shadow of this spirit master.” And Navahk would not smile, for in the presence of Umak and Karana, his own power would be small indeed.

  The premise was exhilarating, but only for a moment. Great black squall lines were massing along the horizon to the northeast, and lightning flashed nearby. Thunder shook the world, as well as the boy’s confidence. Far below the ledge, the hunters, boys, and women were scurrying about. Karana squinted against the distance and saw Umak waving his arms at the sky. Galeena was directing the hurried packing of meat into hides. The butchering camp was being abandoned. The people were preparing to return to the shelter of the cave. If the full fury of the storm broke upon them, the way would be difficult and dangerous.

  A knot formed in Karana’s belly as he watched Torka walking beside Lonit, carrying most of her share of their load along with his own. What if she were to stumble and hurt herself and her baby as she ascended the wall to the ledge? With each raindrop, the chances of such a mishap increased, for the way would be slippery and treacherous.

  Karana was suddenly cold with dread. He had caused this rain. It was not falling hard yet, but it would be. He had willed it to be so. He had wanted the people of Galeena’s band to blame their headman’s wasteful way of hunting for having angered the sky spirits. But now that he thought about it, they had shown no reticence when it came to slaying the entire herd of musk oxen. They would probably not blame Galeena at all. They would blame their new spirit master. They would say that, by failing to deter the storm, Umak had proved that his magic was that of a weak old man.

  Karana felt sick. He would have to make the storm go away. But how? He had not the slightest idea of what he had said to call down the spirits of the rain. He had merely copied what little he remembered of Umak’s atonal chants. There were no words. There were only snatches of sound that made no sense to anyone who was not a spirit master.

  It was raining harder now—big, cold drops. He extended his arms and allowed them to form a clear, cool lake within his cupped palms. For the first time, Karana realized just how foolish he had been to assume the responsibility for the use of such powers. If Umak were blamed for the storm, he would have to step forward and admit his blame before everyone, regardless of the consequences The prospect was terrifying. With a purely reflexive action, he flung his arms upward and released the rain that he had held captive within his hands.

  “Go back to the sky! Tell the spirit-, of the air that Karana has called you by mistake! Tell them ‘hat Karana is sorry!”

  In that instant, a bolt of lightning, struck downward along the mountain wall. It came so close to the ledge that Karana could smell it and feel its power tirgling in the air all around him. When thunder followed almost instantaneously, he jumped straight up. His head was so filled with the sound, he did not hear the sharp, grinding, almost human cry that came out of the summit ice pack. He was absolutely positive that the sky spirits had come to punish the audacious boy who had dared to steal the magic chants of Umak so that he might become a master of spirits.

  He was master of nothing. He was only Karana, a little boy, who would never take the powers of the spirits for granted again. Yet, as he stood on the ledge, the wind veered sharply. The great squall lines reversed direction. The rain stopped.

  And Karana knew that he had made it so.

  They came up onto the ledge, rejoicing that Umak had turned the storm away. They spoke of the grandiose invocations that he had made to the sky and of the wonderful dance that he had done on behalf of the hunters. Karana stood by and said nothing as they dumped their meat, hides, and horns without ceremony. No one except the storm had witnessed his encounter with the sky spirits. That was best. He had never seen Umak look happier. The old man behaved like one half his age as he preened under the doting attentions of the matrons. The two sisters aggressively vied for his favor. Karana had to concede that, since their dousing, they were not so bad to look upon. He was glad for Umak, and had no intention of telling anyone that he was responsible for the comings and goings of clouds and rain.

  He was very tired. He felt as though the lightning bolt had drained away a portion of his spirit. He dozed besid
e Lonit’s fire while the men and boys made several additional trips back to the butchering site. He heard the youth whom the others called Ninip make a caustic remark about his uselessness. Torka countered it while Karana pretended not to hear. Soon his leg would be strong and flexible again. He would show Ninip who was useless: Boy Who Brings Rain, or Boy Who Falls On Face Before Bull!

  Through deepening sleepiness, Karana heard the women speak of how clever Galeena had been to discover this high, dry encampment. He heard them say that had it not been for their headman’s resourcefulness, they would have been forced to camp as they had always done, on the open tundra, at the mercy of every storm. Here, thanks to Galeena, they could sit out the weather and work their hides and prepare their meat with little concern for the elements. Karana muttered to himself but was too weary to remind them that he had found this cave, and had it not been for Torka’s fire, Galeena would never have thought to bring his people to the mountain. Galeena was a man of minimal imagination, brave only when he had armed hunters at his back.

  Karana rolled over and closed his eyes. He was almost dreaming now: Aar was at his side. He hunted with Torka, in the shadow of a great bear that was Umak, while Lonit followed close behind with an infant upon her back and her bola in her hand. It was a fine dream. Karana savored it and knew that the best thing about it was that Galeena and his people had no part in it at all.

  It was nearly dark by the time Galeena announced that all that was going to be brought up from the butchering camp had been brought. Although everyone knew that there were still carcasses that had not been fully stripped; no one protested. They had taken the best portions. The rest would have to remain behind. Everyone was exhausted, and the storm that had been sent into retreat that morning was advancing now.

  They slept through the worst of the deluge. By morning the rain had turned to sleet. Torka rose to secure the weather baffle that he had raised the night before to keep his little family warm and dry. As he looked at the sleeping forms of Karana and Lonit, he was troubled by a concern that had nagged him since yesterday.

  Darkness had forced them to abandon further trips to the butchering site, and the weather would make any descent of the wall dangerous. But they had left so much meat behind! They had killed so many musk oxen that, even if the weather allowed, they could not possibly have butchered them all. Unguarded carcasses at the killing site, which was close to the mountain, would invite predators. If the predators lingered, they would pose a threat to anyone who left the ledge to hunt, fish, or gather tubers and berries.

  He had said this to Galeena, but the headman had shrugged and said they would be cautious and kill the predators if they proved a problem. Nevertheless, Torka remained troubled. He wanted to speak his mind to Umak, but the old man had passed the night with the matrons at their fire. Torka saw that he now sat cross-legged before the ring of stones, frowning as he stitched at the sleeves of the tunic Lonit had made for him. He had a lap full of what looked like the flight feathers salvaged from the tera torn that they had killed so long ago. Torka had no idea what Umak was doing with them. The matrons buzzed around him like flies. He swatted them away, so intent upon his work that he did not hear his grandson when Torka called out his name.

  It was Galeena who came to him. “Is good thing we khum this dry khamp, uh?” He indicated the foulness of the morning with a snap of his head. “Torka still worry about leaving meat? Galeena say stop. If beasts khum to eat of Galeena’s kill, it will be good thing for them. And for us. Fat beasts slow. Not danger to men. Torka worry too much.

  Torka eyed Galeena and spoke his thoughts. “Galeena has eaten well of Torka’s kills. Galeena grows fat. But on the hunt, Galeena is not slow. He is a danger to the beasts who would feed off the meat that he has wasted.

  The headman considered Torka’s words. There was good in them, and bad. compliment and insult mixed together like summer-ripe berries mashed into rancid fat to mask its stink. No man had ever spoken to him as Torka spoke .. . except Manaak—and Manaak had paid. He thought of the way Torka had shamed him by saving the life of Ninip, his son. Again he vowed: Torka will pay. Grinning, Galeena slapped him familiarly upon his back. “Torka always think his way better?” he said, pressing with an oily amiability that reeked of insincerity. Beneath the oils were sharp barbs, set to snag.

  Torka raised a brow. “It is sometimes difficult to accept new ways. Does not Galeena also find this true?”

  Galeena was aware that several of his hunters, his women, and his son were watching him. He was also aware that Torka had subtly turned the barbs of his question back in his own direction. He was not about to be caught. With a definitive snort, he said that he found no trouble adapting to new ways, provided they were worthy of his consideration.

  This said, he sauntered to the rim of the cornice. He stood just far enough back to keep out of the rain. He hefted his tunic, loosened the sinew tie that bound his baggy trousers around his waist, and freed an enormous, blue-veined penis. He proceeded to relieve himself. “All see! Galeena piss new way! Torka’s way! Not in cave. Over rim of ledge!” As he had expected, the wind blew his urine back at him amid clouds of steam. He laughed and turned to face into the cave. “All see what happen when Galeena piss Torka’s way! Torka make killing throw on hunt! Torka save life of worthless boy! But Torka best learn not to piss on himself before he tells Galeena to accept new ways!”

  The hunters howled. The women guffawed. Umak stared, taken aback. And young Ninip flushed deeply with shame.

  Torka knew that he would be wise to let the insult pass, but it was too much for him. “Indeed. But Galeena should know that among Torka’s people there is a saying: A man who pisses into the wind holds his brains in his hand.”

  Galeena was speechless for only a moment. “Torka’s people are dead,” he reminded venomously, putting the cutting edge of a thinly veiled warning to his tone.

  “Not all of us,” replied Torka, measuring his adversary, wondering if he would ever be anything else.

  That night they danced. After a day of laying out hides, setting meat on racks of bone to dry, and preparing yards of precious sinew, they felt the need to celebrate such a rich bounty. They danced, and their fires danced with them-high, wasteful fires built of the last of Lonit’s carefully dried sod and bones and lichens. When she protested, saying that if the weather did not improve they would be hard pressed to find fire makings to last them through the time of the long dark, Naknaktup silenced her. Oklahnoo reminded her that it was still autumn. lana said that winter was far away. And Ai, the younger woman of Galeena, assured her that they would have plenty of time to gather and store the kindling and makings of future fires. Tomorrow. Or the next day. Or perhaps the day after that.

  In the meantime, they kept their fires high. Smoke filled the cave and blackened its rocky ceiling. Eyes smarted and nostrils burned, but Galeena’s people seemed not to notice. They clapped their hands. They stamped their feet. They praised the spirits for having brought them to this safe, high encampment. They praised the musk oxen for having been stupid enough to allow Galeena’s hunters to kill them all. They praised each other for everything, anything, and absolutely nothing. They formed a line, then a circle. The circle opened and closed. The dancers sang. They formed a line again and moved like an ox bowed river, snaking back and forth around their fires.

  “Khum! Torka’s people! Galeena say you dance tuh!” It was Ai. Small and plump, her wide, round face shone in the firelight. It was greasy and blotched with soot from the fire. Her nose was swollen from Galeena’s earlier clouting, but amidst the fall of her shoulder-length black hair, her face was still pretty. Very pretty.

  Torka could not keep himself from smiling back at her as she took his hand.

  “Khum! she urged, and led him off to take his place beside her among the circling dancers.

  He hesitated only a moment, making certain that Lonit was following. She reached for his free hand, but the circle closed. The line broke. Wondering why she
looked so distraught, he was surrounded by a press of dancers, each moving to his or her own rhythm, each chanting his or her own song.

  Someone took her hand, pulled her half off her feet. Lonit gasped, startled to find herself in Galeena’s embrace. He was dancing as he held her so close that she could barely breathe. She had not realized how strong he was. His right hand curled about her waist, held it high against her back, hurting her, forcing her to move with him as his free hand touched her in ways that no man except her father had ever touched her—invading the lacings of her tunic, grasping, deliberately hurting her. She tried to pull away, but he jerked her wrist upward. Again she gasped. He leered at her, wolf-eyed in the firelight darkness. All around, dancers moved, lost totally in the moment. The tip of Galeena’s tongue penetrated the gap between his front teeth. It was a lewd and obvious symbol. She was glad for the firelight, for he could not see the blush that flamed upon her cheeks. He leaned close, whispered an obscene suggestion, told her that when Torka’s baby fought its way free of her body, she had best remember who was headman of this band if she expected the child to be allowed to live.

  He released her then, so forcefully that she spun away from him and nearly fell. When she caught her balance, he was nowhere to be seen. She looked for Torka, but dancers were all around her, sweeping her along.

  It was so warm within the cave that she could barely breathe. The firelight made everything seem unreal. She thought she saw Umak dancing with the matrons ... or was it the great, short-faced bear? She saw the boys leaping and swaying in grotesque parodies of the adults. Disoriented, she wondered if she had imagined the last few moments. Had Galeena actually threatened her? Why would he wish to do so?