by C. S. Bills
“I’m not sure what good it will do,” Attu muttered to himself as he neared Tingiyok. “Just give our Clans time to hide. Then they can search us out one by one.”
If the Ravens got past the islands, the Clans couldn’t out paddle them with women and children and supplies in their skin boats. They’d proved that the last time they were chased.
Attuanin, my name spirit, ruler of the kingdom at the bottom of the sea and all the animals dwelling in it and above it, protect my people until we can get away and leave the Ravens far behind.
“All clear,” Tingiyok said as Attu drew near. “Just the whale fish again, feeding. Many more this time. I heard your prayer by the way. I joined in.”
Attu grinned his thanks at Tingiyok, then peered out over the water. He saw several of the large back fins of the whale fishes moving among the shallower areas and rocks off the islands. “How many?”
“I’ve seen at least six mothers and their young. There are four males patrolling farther out. Each of their back fins has a different pattern of white and black, and-”
“What’s that?” Attu pointed to the edge of the nearest island. A huge shape appeared as if from nowhere, apparently coming from between the last island and the new peninsula.
“They made it through the narrows!” Tingiyok swore. “It’s the Ravens.”
Rika, Farnook, the Ravens are coming! Attu felt Tingiyok’s mind join his as they mind shouted to the women. Tell the others. Run! Hide!
We hear you, came the reply.
Get away from them, Attu, Rika’s voice in his mind was full of fear.
We will. Don’t wait for us.
“I can’t believe the Ravens would be so foolish,” Tingiyok said. “Look.”
Attu turned to see him staring out over the water toward the Ravens. “What?”
“They’re paddling their canoes too close to the shoreline, but worse than that-”
“They’re moving between the mother whale fish and their young,” Attu interrupted.
More Ravens rounded the island and came into view. “I know we need to get away, but-”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Tingiyok interrupted, “not yet. We need to see how many of the Ravens’ canoes they’ve sent and...”
His voice trailed off as more and more of the huge canoes rounded the island.
Attu counted them. He couldn’t believe it. He counted again. “All of them,” he whispered.
“All the canoes,” Tingiyok said. “They must have left their women and children behind, with probably just a few Elders to watch over them. And see how low they’re floating in the water. They must be loaded to capacity with food, men, and probably rocks to fling at us like they did through the narrows.”
The canoes were speeding past the last outcropping of rock on the northernmost peninsula. A horn sounded. Attu’s blood froze.
What are we going to do? We don’t stand a chance.
“Look what they’re doing now!” Tingiyok shouted. “Are they crazy?” Several Raven hunters in one canoe had slowed. Instead of paddles, they now stood in the canoe, large spears in their hands, with ropes attached. One by one they threw the spears, hitting one of the young whale fish. It leaped and twisted in the water, pulling the spears free. It splashed on its side, wounded, and emitted a long series of clicks and whistles.
“They don’t even have the right kind of spears. And what can they be thinking? Don’t they see the males farther out?”
“They must think they’ll react like regular large fish. They must not have this kind of whale fish in the far south where the Ravens are from, or they’d know better. And they don’t see our small boats, don’t know how close they are to catching us, or they wouldn’t waste time hunting now. They-” Tingiyok stopped mid sentence.
One of the males sped in toward its females and young and leaped out of the water. Attu saw daylight under its body as it cleared the water and seemed to fly. It had aimed true and crashed down right in the center of the largest canoe. Attu heard the crack of wood echoing across the water as the canoe rolled, and Ravens fell into the deep, where they thrashed about.
The men in the other canoes stopped paddling. The last canoe turned to head back, and it looked like the others would follow.
“It’s too late,” Tingiyok said. He turned to Attu. “Your name spirit Attuanin will have many for his kingdom today. Our prayers have been answered.”
“What do you mean?”
“Watch.”
Attu’s flesh crawled as he realized the whale fish now surrounded the Raven’s canoes. There were fourteen canoes and there were at least ten whale fish, if not more. Attu spotted a smaller tail fin near the shore, where the young must have clustered in the safety of the jagged rocks.
“The mothers have put themselves in front of the babies, to face the Ravens with the males,” Tingiyok said.
Another large male rose up out of the water, but this time it didn’t crash into a canoe. It moved alongside one instead. Ravens beat at the whale fish with their paddles, and it looked like some tried spearing it, but the whale fish simply pushed. The canoe rolled over.
One by one, the male whale fish rolled or rose up under the remaining canoes, dumping the men into the water. The canoe that had been turning back was the last to be flipped.
Then the screaming began.
“I can’t believe it,” Attu said. “The whale fish are circling, just like they did with the fish the other day.”
Bubbles rose to the surface as the Ravens fought to get out of the circle of flipped canoes crashing into each other in the middle of a twisting mass of wood and flesh. The whale fish circled and circled, pushing the Ravens back toward the center of a huge spiral of swirling water and bubbles. One of the stronger swimmers escaped them, and Attu saw him pull himself up on one of the jagged rocks nearer the shoreline, close to where the young whale fish were hiding. One of the smaller adult whale fish, probably a female, rose out of the water and plucked the hunter off the rock, throwing him up into the air and slicing him in two with her sharp teeth.
Tingiyok popped his lips, then let out a slow whistle. “I hate the Ravens. They’re vile. But now they are also prey. This is a horrible way to die.”
Attu watched as the whale fish took turns darting in just below the surface of the water, picking off the Raven hunters as if they were fat fish.
“Never in all my nightmares...” Attu couldn’t finish. Tears filled his eyes. He realized he was crying for the Ravens. He couldn’t help identifying with their pain as screams floated over the surface of the water. First, the air was filled with them, but as they watched in mute helplessness, there came fewer and fewer screams, until eventually, it became quiet. Still the whale fish circled and struck.
“This is beyond defending their young. This is beyond hunting.” Tingiyok shook his head.
“This is revenge.” Attu said. “Revenge of Attuanin against the Raven spirit. It has to be.”
An eerie silence settled over the water. Pieces of broken canoes, paddles, floating pouches, and what appeared to be bits of tools and clothing littered the water, spreading out as the whale fish stopped circling.
Tell the others to stay where they are. Don’t run any farther. Attu mind spoke to Rika and Farnook. The Ravens are no longer a threat.
What? Why? came Their response.
Attu sent them a mental picture of the Ravens being attacked by the whale fish. His whole body trembled at their reactions to what he was showing them.
Yes, it is horrible.
“Look,” Tingiyok said and he motioned with his paddle.
A hunter was swimming toward them.
Attu moved to paddle toward the man.
“Don’t!” Tingiyok said. “We’ve got to remain still or we might be their next prey.
The man was drawing closer to their boats. He was shouting and thrashing wildly.
“Don’t let him get too close!” Tingiyok cried. “He’ll grab your boat and flip it, trying to g
et out of the water. But keep your paddle in the water and move it just as much as you have to, no more.”
Attu stayed at a safe distance from the man, careful to move as little as possible in his craft, trying not to attract attention to himself. The Raven was alternately cursing and crying out. Attu couldn’t understand him, but the Raven continued to scream at them as he struggled in the water.
“Look,” Tingiyok said. “His leg is gone.”
Attu looked down. As the man fought to keep his head out of the water, Attu could see one of his legs had been bitten off, just above the knee. Dark blood pooled around him as he thrashed. “We can throw him a rope. Pull him in. But he’s got to stop thrashing and screaming.”
Tingiyok nodded. He reached behind him for a coil of rope he had tied there.
Attu felt movement, like a large swell of water. It lifted his boat. “No!” he cried.
Don’t move. Don’t speak.
Attu clamped his mouth shut and looked without moving his head. One of the whale fishes circled below them, just under the surface.
I am not your enemy, Attu mind spoke, praying the whale fish could somehow hear him. I am Attuanin’s namesake. You have killed our enemies, all but this one in the water. And we are grateful. Do as you will with him, but do not hurt us, please. Our women and children need us, like your females and young need you. We are leaving this place. You will be safe from humans now. You have killed all your enemies. All except this one last wounded hunter.
From deep within Attu’s spirit, he thought he felt, more than heard, an answer. The whale fish rose up, its black parts hidden, its white parts like flashes of bright sunlight on the water. The perfect camouflage, Attu realized at the same moment the last Raven hunter screamed. The whale fish grabbed him around the chest, his lower body encased in its vicious jaws, and he was so close Attu saw the man’s eyes white and wild in his dark face. The Raven’s hands splashed helplessly for a moment, and he opened his mouth again to scream, but the whale fish pulled him under. A spear throw’s distance from the water, the whale fish rose again, the hunter flopping in its mouth like a dead seal. The whale fish slapped his tail as it dove once more and headed out into the open ocean.
Attu’s and Tingiyok’s boats rocked on the waves the whale fish had made with its tail. As the waves moved passed, the ocean calmed until all was flat dark water and blue sky. A bird circled the wreckage to the south, its call loud in the silence. It cried again, flew lower, and studied the mass of debris moving slowly toward the shore of the peninsula. It plunged into the water, then rose, something dangling from its beak. Others came. Attu and Tingiyok sat in silence for a long time, watching.
“What are they eating?” Attu finally asked as he felt himself coming back from the Between of shock he must have been in.
“I don’t think we want to know.” Tingiyok ran his fingers through his gray hair.
“Oh.”
Attu drew in a shaky breath, picked up his paddle, and the two hunters headed for shore.
Chapter 28
Ubantu had started six small fires in a large circle, the safe signal they had pre-arranged. As they sat around the fires late into the night, people continued to drift back from their hiding places, and Tingiyok told the story, again and again. Attu knew he could never speak of what he had seen to anyone, and he would guard his thoughts about it as best he could from those with Gifts. All of them had witnessed enough horror, without adding what Attu and Tingiyok had seen into the mix of the kind of terror that nightmares are made of.
But Tingiyok told the story well, dismissing the bloodier parts and focusing on the craftiness of the whale fish and how well they defended their young from the Ravens. Attu agreed with his version with a nod if anyone asked him. It was enough.
Rika sat beside Attu, her fingers tangled in his. Then, she whispered in his ear and left the firelight to get another fur from their shelter.
The last few stragglers had returned. All were accounted for. No one had been injured or lost in their attempts to hide from the Ravens. Everyone had heard Tingiyok’s story.
“We’ll be ready to head north again by the end of the day tomorrow. Back to the home of our ancestors. Back to the place of our name spirits,” Ubantu said. “I can hardly wait to see what life in the north along the coast of this land will be like.”
“Skin boats in the warm times,” Tingiyok said, his gap-toothed grin making everyone else smile.
“Hunting on the Expanse in the cold times,” Suka said.
“And long nights in the snow houses, with good nuknuk lamps and the storytelling,” Yural added.
Heads nodded. Then the conversation turned to discussing what they should do next.
Attu listened, waiting for Rika to return. When she didn’t, he finally left the fire and walked down the path toward their shelter. As he rounded the corner of the path, there, amid the trees, stood Rika, her head cocked to one side. The wind was blowing through the trees, but on the wind were also voices. Attu knew at once whose they were.
Thank you, he mind spoke to the three female spirits in the wind as he put his arm around Rika.
“Thank Attuanin,” the winds whispered around him. “And give him what he desires to show your thanks.”
Attu felt the ground under him move, like rotten ice. “What does Attuanin desire so we thank him properly?” he asked. After seeing the great power of his name spirit as Attuanin used the whale fish to kill the Ravens, even Attu, who had always trusted in the great leader of the underwater spirits, felt afraid of Attuanin now. My eyes have been opened to his power like I have never understood it before.
“Don’t worry, mighty hunter, it does not involve any more deaths.” The wind rose, swirling and making the nearby trees sigh.
“From now on,” the voices continued, “you will still be Clans of the Expanse, for there is a frozen place far to the north where you will go, but you will now also be known as the people of the open water and the deep ocean, of the rivers and the streams. You will be called the People of the Waters, once again, as you were in the ancient past. Attuanin’s people. You will add the water tattoo to the arms of all your hunters, uniting you before you journey farther north.”
“People of the Waters,” Attu whispered.
“Yes,” came the reply, and this time Attu heard the distinct sound of Elder Nuanu’s voice.
“Thank you for the volcano and-”
“We know.” The whisper now held an edge of heat, as if Vanreda’s voice itself embodied the volcano.
Attu trembled.
“And to convince your people to unite under one Clan, we give you a great gift.” This voice was unfamiliar to Attu and he felt, rather than saw, the Nuvik woman of Farnook’s dream.
Her mother.
“What gift?” Rika asked.
“Out of the most precious of waters your gift will come. You already know what it is, healer. Tell the others. And then all will know and unite.” The voices blended as one voice now, and they were fading.
“Wait,” Attu called, but as he watched, the wind died down in the trees, until they stood, still again in the darkness.
“Rika?” Attu asked. “What great gift?”
“Growing a child...” Rika looked into his eyes, searching in the darkness for his response.
“You are-”
“Yes,” Rika said. She nestled herself into his arms. “We are going to have a child.”
“Rika, I’m-”
“And so is Farnook, and every other woman here who is bonded and who is still able to bring a young one into the world.”
“Every one?” Attu was dumbfounded. “Even Yural? My mother?”
“Every one,” Rika said. “I couldn’t understand why the spirits would do this, at a time when we were in the most danger, when the Ravens made it clear they would kill us all. I still don’t. We will be vulnerable when all our women are near their birthing time at once. Won’t we?”
“Yet the spirits bring the most imp
ortant gift to our people, children. This is the sign the spirits told us. Out of the most precious of waters-” Attu couldn’t continue.
“Yes, it is the sign. A new generation will be born.”
“We will need to find our home before that time arrives. We’ll find our new home first, that must be also what the spirits are promising, don’t you think?” Attu continued before Rika could answer his question. “We will find our new way. I feel it in my spirit. A new name will unite our Clans, a new life, a new generation of young to raise there. Elder Nuanu and the others, including the great Attuanin, have given us this gift.” Attu spoke almost to himself, trying to understand all the implications of what they’d been told, but it was too much to take in at once. He gave up for the moment. There would be time for that later.
“Come,” Attu said. “We must tell everyone.”
Attu, with Rika at his side, headed back toward the fires. Pausing along the path just before the clearing, Attu stopped and pulled Rika close. Her warm breath tickled his ear. “A child?” he asked again.
“The first of many sons and daughters,” Rika said, reminding him of the prophecy. Her mischievous smile set his heart on fire.
“Thank you, spirits of our Clans, thank you all!” Attu shouted. In the silence that followed, they heard the waves, now rhythmically hitting the shore as a small wind whipped up from the trees and encircled them for a moment, lifting the hair from Rika’s face and cooling Attu’s skin.
“I think they’re saying, ‘You’re welcome,’” Rika said. Then she pulled back, grabbed Attu’s arm, and pulled him into the clearing toward the fire.
Toward the ‘People of the Waters,’ Attu mind spoke to Rika. We will go, a new Clan, with the new lives in our Clan making us truly rich. We’ll travel north and find there what I have been longing for all these moons, a place on the water and the shore in the summer, a place among the islands and the rivers, the trees and the open ocean. And a place on the ice in the cold of winter. There we will finally be-
Home, Rika replied into his mind and his heart. Then she grabbed his hand tighter and they slowed, walking into the light of their people’s fires together.