The Shadow of Everything Existing

by Ken Altabef

  Alaana wouldn’t lie to her.

  “He’s here in this room,” Higilak said.

  Alaana searched around the tent using the special sight of the shamans, and found it was true. Old Manatook’s spirit, in the form of a large white bear, stood there in the tent beside his wife.

  Higilak followed Alaana’s gaze until she was looking straight at the ghost, though she couldn’t see it herself. “He’s here,” she said, her voice a withered shriek of frustation. “I can feel him but can’t see him or hear his voice. I can sense him here, and I want to feel his embrace.”

  “Manatook?” said Alaana, casting her thoughts across the spirit of the air.

  Old Manatook didn’t answer. The white bear’s ghost simply faded away.

  “The pain is one thing, Alaana. The spine and the hands and the knees I can bear. But I can not stand this. There’s only one way I can be with him. You see, it’s not so different than Amaaqtuq and Toonookyah. Sometimes it’s right to die. But I can’t. Now you tell me Alaana. Why can’t I die?”

  “Because death already came for you. It was in the form of a white bear named Beluga Killer, and we chased it away. Manatook buried it under ice and then I summoned ghosts from the past to kill it. Death missed its chance with you. I think maybe it won’t come again.”

  “Talk about evil curses,” said the old woman, “this might be the worst one of all.”

  “And my fault again,” said Alaana.

  “You can’t be blamed for doing what you think is right, for trying to help. No one blames you for the results, certainly not I. And I’ll wager Amaaqtuq felt the same.”

  “That’s what she said.”

  Old Higilak nodded forcefully, though it hurt her to do so. “But just the same, you need to make this right. I want you to release me. It’s right for a woman’s favorite daughter to do that certain thing. It must be you.”

  “I can’t. Not on top of everything else. Don’t ask me to do that.”

  “You must,” whispered the old woman.

  “What do you want me to do? Strangle the life out of you? Stab you in the heart? I can tell you right now, it won’t work.”

  “Then you’ll just have to think of something else.”

  CHAPTER 18

  AN UNCERTAIN FAVOR

  “Hmmmph! I didn’t teach you to do that, Alaana,” said Old Manatook in his usual gruff manner. “Trying to bring a dead man back to life for one last embrace. For such a silly thing. If you’d bothered to ask my advice, of course I would have told you not to do it.”

  “I’m used to doing things my own way now,” said Alaana. “I don’t need your permission.”

  “She was trying to help,” said Tikiqaq. Its raven’s beak snapped angrily. The tupilaq was, as ever, fierce in defense of its master.

  The three of them stood out on the edge of the camp, looking toward the great bergs to the North. Alaana still couldn’t sleep. Her thoughts kept churning between the fate of poor Amaaqtuq and the disturbing things Higilak had said.

  “Meddling, that’s what it is,” said Old Manatook. “And look where it’s got Amaaqtuq. How many times did I tell you not to meddle? Not with the spirits.”

  “I guess you’ve forgotten about the way you meddled with Beluga Killer’s vengeance,” said Alaana. “By saving Higilak’s life.”

  “Hmmmffph.”

  “Well?” pressed Alaana. “Was that a mistake or not?”

  The luminous ghost’s shaggy head sagged on his chest, swaying rapidly back and forth as bears do when they are anxious or annoyed. “I couldn’t see her die. I loved her too much. But, yes, it was a mistake. One can’t forestall vengeance, and one should not cross the spirits. Nothing good can come of that.”

  “So you advance the idea that a shaman is merely a puppet slaved to the will of greater forces?” asked Tikiqaq. “That she is not under any circumstances to exercise free will? You think so little of individuality?”

  Old Manatook stared down at the little tupilaq. He had not yet made his mind up about the creature, except for a strong desire to stomp on it.

  “I want to make my own decisions,” said Alaana, “not be subject to the whims of the turgats.”

  “That’s how we got into all this trouble,” grumbled Old Manatook. “All our power comes from the spirits. To defy them is to court danger. Every time.”

  Alaana grew even more indignant. “I won’t behave that way. I’m not some trained pup.”

  “Remember your initiation night, Alaana? You humbled yourself before your guardian spirit, you begged him for his aid. You promised Sila you would do whatever he asked.”

  “And it wasn’t Sila after all, was it? I take that to mean I can do whatever I want.”

  Tiki said, “A man isn’t a man if he is slave to the whims of others.”

  Old Manatook huffed at the tupilaq. “You should talk? You’re not a man, and never have been. And besides, you follow your master’s orders without question.”

  “I follow her because she is a good woman. She never thinks of herself. She only seeks to help others. If she began acting otherwise, I would not obey.”

  “Would you destroy her?” asked Manatook.

  “If need be.”

  Old Manatook snickered. “Alaana, you’d better think about getting rid of that thing. A tupilaq’s bite is fatal to its master.”

  “No,” said Alaana. “I like him just the way he is.”

  “Sun and Moon!” exclaimed Old Manatook. “A raging sorcerer, a rebellious shaman and a rogue tupilaq. Is this what I came back for?”

  Alaana didn’t answer. Being a disappointment to her old teacher was the least of her problems. She was used to that. But now she was a disappointment to herself. “Everything I do seems to turn out wrong, from releasing the sorcerer all the way down to this latest mistake. Poor Amaaqtuq. I really don’t see why I keep on.”

  “We can’t defeat the sorcerer without you, master,” said Tikiqaq. “That is certain.”

  “Is it?” asked Alaana.

  A stony silence fell over the conversation. After a moment the tupilaq said, “It is.”

  Alaana smiled and shook her head.

  “He does have his good points,” said Old Manatook. “I’ll give you that. And so do you, my dear. You are too hard on yourself. I said you made mistakes. I didn’t say you were entirely useless. You’ve done something I wouldn’t have thought possible. No shaman that I know of has ever convinced the spirit of the snow to grant him favors.”

  “It was a heartfelt plea,” said Tiki, “and so the great spirit heard it. It was right. This argues my point. Alaana’s intentions were all for the good, and the spirit answered her.”

  “You amaze me, Alaana,” said Old Manatook, “You never wanted it — this power. And so it comes to you. You accomplish things no one else can. It seeks you out. Even though you try to fight it, it comes to you. There has to be a reason.”

  With that, Old Manatook began to laugh.

  Alaana was not pleased. “You think it’s funny?”

  “It’s incredibly ironic.”

  Tiki scowled up at the white bear shaman.

  Old Manatook continued laughing, the tones becoming strident and maniacal, resolving ultimately into a cackling “Cawww cawwww, cawwwwww.” His luminous outline faded to a dull gray and then deep black, changing shape to a much more slender figure, a figure with human proportions and broad, black wings.

  “It’s so very ironic,” said the dark figure, “And I do love irony. I invented it, you know.”

  “Raven!” said Alaana.

  Tikiqaq squawked in surprise. The raven’s beak in the middle of the tupilaq’s forehead gaped awkwardly. Reaching down with two fingers, Raven clacked it shut.

  Alaana glanced back toward the Anatatook camp, suddenly worried for her people. There was no telling what Raven might do.

  “Leave us alone, Trickster,” she said. “We’ve already got enough problems as it is.”

  Raven played at shock. His e
yes bulged slightly, the whites in stark contrast to his coal-black skin; his thin ebon lips curled down at the edges. “Such insolence!” he said. “This is how you speak to the Raven? Why, I could peck out your soul in a moment’s time.”

  Tiki shrieked again. Even the brave little tupilaq, who had once bitten Tekkeitsertok on the ankle, was afraid to go up against Tulukkaruq.

  “Do it then,” said Alaana. “And be done with it.” She threw her hands in the air. “If that is the will of the spirits, who am I to object?”

  Tulukkaruq sighed. “Oh, where’s the fun in that? Plucking someone’s soul out of their head as if it were an eyeball. Too easy. Too easy by far. We haven’t even set out on our journey yet. And yes, journeys can be tiresome, I do admit. So let’s just get it over with.”

  It suddenly grew dark in the middle of summer’s day. Alaana felt dizzy for a moment and then tired, weak, and sleepy.

  “What is this?” she demanded.

  “We’ve done a dance of time, you and I.”

  “I don’t want to play your games.”

  “Yes you do,” said the Raven, “Yes you do.”

  Alaana woke up in bed, having the distinct feeling that she had been dreaming of Raven. And dreams of the Raven were most often nightmares. A chill danced across her shoulders. She pulled the furs close, noticing for the first time an unusual warmth there on the pallet beside her. It was a man. By the light of the sputtering seal-oil lamp, she could barely make out the outline of a cheek and fine black hair in the gloom of the tent.

  But even so, it was clear this was not her husband Ben. This was an Inuit man. Alaana leaned over, keeping carefully silent. The handsome face with its finely chiseled proportions, the fullness of the lower lip, the magnificent cheeks and strong nose. It was the face of Mikisork, as he would have looked at about twenty years old. And Alaana remembered that she was married to Mikisork, that they had just a few moments ago completed the act of making love, that she was the happiest woman in the entire world.

  A soft, low gurgle broke the silence. Alaana noticed there was an infant snuggled in Miki’s arms. A baby. She peered closely but found that it was not Miki’s daughter Talliituk, nor was it her own daughter Noona. It was a new baby, whose features were a unique and beautiful combination of Alaana and Miki. Someone she had never even seen before, but desperately wanted to meet.

  She sat up, completely puzzled. It was quiet in the tent. She didn’t hear the many voices that provided a background to most of her nights. The souls in the tent skins, the cooking pot, the sleeping furs. These did not murmur at her; there were no ghosts calling in the night, shrieking their confusion, their pain and loneliness. She felt so different. She was alone, her connection to that far-off spirit that provided shamanic power to her soul was gone. The connection severed, she had lost the sight. It was a glorious feeling. She was a woman, a seamstress, a mother, a wife. But she was not a shaman.

  She was truly happy.

  “If this is what you want,” said a sibilant whisper, “then you can have it.”

  Alaana glanced suspiciously at the tent flap. And suddenly Raven was there, standing at the entrance, a dark figure wreathed in dirty gray smoke.

  “It’s not real,” said Alaana softly.

  “It’s real,” promised the Raven. “You see, in this place, in this time, you never became shaman. All you have to do is forget where you’ve just come from. Lay down beside your handsome husband and go back to sleep.”

  Alaana eyed the tent flap suspiciously.

  “Oh, you don’t want to go out there,” said Raven. “Believe me, you don’t.”

  Alaana looked back at the baby girl. She prayed it wouldn’t turn and smile at her, for that would surely break her heart.

  She stood up, put on her calveskin pants and heavy parka and went outside.

  “Don’t--” said Raven. “Everything you want is right here.”

  The nighttime sky was full of stars but held only a small sliver of Moon. Alaana heard muffled cries coming from some of the tents. She knew those groans, they were the sounds of hunger in the night. For a moment, lost in the darkness, she thought she might have returned to the shadow realm. It was so dark she could hardly see the Raven. The turgat walked beside her in human form, an inky blackness in the night, distinguishable only by its glistening teeth and the whites of it eyes. Tulukkaruq was grinning broadly.

  “What happened here?” asked Alaana.

  “Well…” said Raven. “The usual— hunger, starvation, sickness. These people don’t have a shaman to protect them.”

  “What about Old Manatook?”

  “He died. You remember. He died fighting off the wolves.”

  “I remember,” said Alaana sadly.

  “They never got a shaman to replace him.”

  “Well, it’s not my fault,” said Alaana.

  “Of course not. No, of course it’s not your fault. Who said it was?”

  Alaana stopped walking. The night air was colder than she had thought. The Raven’s implacable smile made her feel slightly dizzy.

  “Well, go on,” said Raven. “Have a look around. That’s your parents’ tent I believe, right over there.”

  Alaana heard raised voices coming from the tent. That was unusual, in her parents’ house. There had never been any loud arguments there.

  She brushed aside the tent flap and entered. Her good friend Igguaniaq was having a heated argument with her elder brother Maguan. Iggy looked strange. He had always been a large, burly fellow, usually good natured and smiling. But now he appeared thin, a starving man with wasted, hollow cheeks. Maguan had never looked sadder; he seemed hard and desperate, a man completely beaten down by his own failed leadership.

  Alaana’s parents were there as well. While the young men stood facing each other amid their angry exchange, Kigiuna sat in the corner, saying nothing. Alaana was shocked at her father’s appearance. He looked very ill. The stink of death clung to him. Amauraq tried to feed him a sip of broth, as thin as water, but Kigiuna’s fit of coughing only caused the soup to spill across his chest.

  No one had noticed Alaana’s entrance to the tent, and none could see the Raven.

  “We’ve got to do something,” said Iggy. “We’ve nothing left!”

  Maguan shook his head hopelessly, “I don’t know what to do.”

  “What about Itoriksak?” whispered Alaana very quietly, knowing Raven, hovering right at her elbow, would hear.

  “Oh, he’s dead,” said the Raven. “Been dead for years. Fell into the ice. Don’t you remember?”

  Alaana did remember. Her second brother had almost died when she was twelve but as a young shaman she had been able to save his life by way of a prophetic dream.

  “We can move the camp to the sea,” suggested Iggy.

  “Too early,” said Maguan. “It’s not frozen over yet. We won’t get any seal.”

  “Well there’s no caribou here,” said Iggy. “At least none you can find. At the shore we’ll pick along the rocks, find crab or dig up a few mussels--”

  “Living off scraps? Among the rocks? Living in a cave like animals?”

  “It’s our only chance. We have to go. There’s nothing for us here. There’s nothing here.”

  “We’ll find meat,” insisted Maguan. “We’ll find the caribou.”

  “What? Stumble across them?” Iggy grabbed his headman by the front of his parka and shook him violently.

  Maguan did nothing to defend himself. Once again he shook his head, and offered only a faint sigh.

  Alaana stepped out of the tent. She didn’t want them to see her. Out in the open air she was met by sobbing in the night. She didn’t want to hear any more.

  “I don’t want to see any more,” she said. “You’ve had your joke Tulukkaruq. I’m sure it’s very funny for you.”

  “Joke?” said Raven. “It’s no joke. This is what you’ve always wanted. Isn’t it? To be a regular woman? I’m only trying to help. If this is what you want, you may have
it. It’s my gift to you. And the best part is, since you’ve never been the shaman, you haven’t released Vithrok. Now that’s a good deal. Take it. But there’s no way back. There never is.”

  “And what happens to my real family?”

  “These are real.”

  “What happens to the other people?” insisted Alaana. “Ben? Noona? The family that I left behind. What happens to them?”

  “You don’t need to worry about them. You left them.”

  “Tell me!”

  “Well, they all die, of course. Without you, without their shaman they will all be destroyed by Vithrok.”

  “They all die,” repeated Alaana dryly. “And these people, without a shaman, they’re all going to die as well. They all die either way. Whatever I do, everyone dies. I lose, either way.”

  “Unless you win,” said the Raven.

  Alaana stared back at him, hating his infernal smile, his malicious tricks. But the Raven was right. There was only one way to win. Find the sorcerer and stop him. “If that’s what I have to do,” said Alaana, “that’s what I will do. Nothing will stop me.”

  Raven’s smile broadened impossibly wide. “That’s the spirit!” He laughed again. “Now before we go, why don’t you go back in?” He jerked a thumb toward Alaana’s tent. “Enjoy your husband one last time?”

  “He’s not my husband,” said Alaana.

  With the sound of a tremendous thunderclap ringing in her ears, Alaana found herself returned to her present life, standing shakily at the tundra’s edge, Tikiqaq beside her. Raven, even in the guise of Old Manatook, was gone.

  “That wasn’t Old Manatook,” observed Tiki.

  “I know.” Alaana began walking back toward camp, eager for the comforts of home. Her strange journey had left her starving. One final joke?

  But was that all it had been? A joke? Aside from the ache in her empty belly, a parting gift from the Raven, she felt very much different. Intentionally or not, the Raven had done her a service that no one else could have done. Alaana suddenly had a new determination. All doubts were flensed from her spirit. Whatever she need do to defeat Vithrok, she would do it. She would no longer allow any thought of defeat or failure. With the ancient shamans beside her, she would succeed. She might make another mistake or another hundred. It didn’t matter. She would win.