by Ken Altabef
“Oh, look!” cried Siqi in distress. “They’re eating him!”
A flock of small hatchetfish were indeed nibbling away at their brother’s carcass. “Shoo!” said Siqi. “Go away!’ She struck out with her little claws, but the endeavor was futile. No sooner had she chased them away from one side of the body, they swam immediately to the other.
She turned back toward Nunavik. “They’re eating him! We can’t leave him like this.”
“That’s a burial at sea,” explained Nunavik. “It’s just another part of life. Something Buulabaq didn’t show you. But you’re wrong. The best thing is for you two to go away from here immediately. Before Sedna shows up. Believe me you don’t want to meet her here after what you’ve just done.”
“Where should we go?” asked Uuna.
Nunavik smiled sadly. “Anywhere you want. You two look like you can take care of yourselves now.”
CHAPTER 29
THINGS HIDDEN
“We’ll never find them,” said Alaana.
Old Manatook shot her a reproachful look.
“I mean, of course we will find them,” said Alaana, feeling the hapless student again. “But I don’t see how. They could be anywhere out on the flats.” She surveyed the broad, flat plain of ice and snow laid out before them.
“Not as difficult as you think,” replied Manatook. “Bears are drawn to caves and I know every cave in Nunatsiaq. If they are injured they may not have gotten very far.”
“That’s well enough. But what direction would they go?”
“That depends on why they ran.”
“Why would they?”
Old Manatook didn’t answer.
“They know the Anatatook are directly south of here,” suggested Alaana, “and we think the sorcerer is to the north. So wouldn’t they go south?”
“Not this time.”
“Well, why not?”
“Hmmmph. They did not try to contact me. How about you?”
“Why would they be avoiding us? If they’re badly hurt…”
“They’re not.”
“What do you mean?” demanded Alaana. “What do you know?”
Old Manatook shook his head briskly, as a bear shaking off fleas. “I don’t know anything. Just common sense. If they were badly hurt we’d see some sign. Now, as to where they’ve gone. The sea is to the east. They went that way. Bears always head toward open water when they’re in trouble. The water offers food and refuge from attack. They can swim a far distance in a day’s time, in any direction they choose. Once they hit the water, it will be impossible to find them. So let’s go.”
Alaana and her teacher flew across the plain. True to his word, Manatook led them to cave after cave, some made of ice and some of rock. They found many already occupied by other bears, even stumbling blindly upon a family of grizzlies in one den. The brown bears posed no threat to the shamans but the male became frightened at their sudden intrusion to his secret place. He struck out blindly, nearly maiming one of his own cubs. They hurried away.
At last they came to a broad, open cavern sheltered beneath a wide overhang of stone facing east. This den, so conveniently close to the sea, was a frequent stopping place for white bears. Its floor was strewn with old bones that had been gnawed and cracked for their marrow. But Manatook and Alaana found the cave empty.
Alaana felt weary. It had been a long soul flight to the Ice Mountain and now back along this winding trail. She felt they had lost the twins, and was eager to head for home. “They may have already reached the shore…”
“They’re here,” said Manatook.
“What?”
“This cave is never empty in summer. They’re here.”
Alaana glanced around. She couldn’t detect any other souls apart from the dull gray shimmer of the sleeping rock-souls. “Orfik!” she called, “Oktolik!”
Manatook circled the periphery of the cavern, nudging his spirit-nose into every nook and cranny. At one crack in the wall he stopped short and said, “Come out, or I will drag you out!”
The black tip of a nose edged forward from the crevasse, followed by a pointed snout. The nose quickly withdrew.
“I said come out!” roared Manatook.
Oktolik’s face returned to the opening and in a moment his entire body wriggled free of the crack. He was followed by his brother Orfik. Alaana gazed sadly at the two bedraggled polar bears, their coats matted with dust and dirt, but she was less interested in the state of their bodies than the condition of their souls. Their soul lights, usually so vibrant in pink and orange, now glimmered only faintly. They resembled the last embers in a blackened, burned out hearth.
“What has he done to you?” she exclaimed. “You fought the sorcerer?”
“No,” said Oktolik.
“I don’t understand. What happened?”
“I was afraid,” admitted Orfik.
“Orfik was afraid the sorcerer would get our souls,” explained Oktolik. “He said we should keep them from him.”
“No,” said Orfik. “I was just afraid.”
“How could you be afraid?” asked Manatook. “Tornarssuk stands beside you, as he does with me. You had only to ask for his help. He told me he would fight Vithrok, that he would destroy him.”
The bears lowered their heads, nosing the debris among the ground. At last Oktolik said, “It didn’t look that way to us.”
“You lost faith!” declared Manatook. “You didn’t believe the Great Bear would see you through! Fools! If you don’t believe in your spirit guardian, you are nothing. If you have no faith, you are no longer shamans.”
He glared ferociously at the two young bears. “Worse yet, you have made yourselves helpless.” He turned his wrath upon Alaana and added, “I would have told them not to do that. If you had taught them properly, I think, this wouldn’t have happened.”
Alaana refused to be made to feel guilty. “That’s easy to say, now that we’re safely removed from the danger.”
“I don’t care what the danger was,” roared Old Manatook. “You don’t lose faith. Not ever. Tornarssuk can destroy Vithrok. I know it! I don’t doubt it!”
This outburst only made the bears feel even worse. Orfik flopped down on the ground, weeping.
“We’ll make it right,” said Alaana. “The fight’s not over yet.”
“But the Heart,” said Old Manatook, “You were charged with protecting it. All three of you! And now look what’s happened. Have you seen what he did to it?”
“We saw,” said Oktolik sadly.
“It’s destroyed. Completely destroyed. There was none other like that in all the world. I never learned all its mysteries, but a unique and wonderful soul is now lost to us. This can never be made right.”
Alaana moved closer to Oktolik. “What did Vithrok want with the Heart?
“He was asking…” said the bear, but first he must grapple with the painful memory of the attack, and compose himself again. “He was asking about a spirit named Tsungi. He was trying to find Tsungi.”
“Did the Heart show him?”
Oktolik shook his head. “Nothing. It wouldn’t help him. I think it destroyed itself.”
Old Manatook turned away in disgust.
“What’s done is done,” said Alaana. “You shouldn’t be out here by yourselves. We can’t let Vithrok get his hands on you two. You were right about that at least. Come back with me to the Anatatook.”
“Men?” said Orfik. “They…they will kill us.”
“Not if I forbid it,” said Alaana. “I am still their shaman. We’ll keep you safe.”
“We are no good,” said Oktolik. “Aisaac is right. We have made ourselves useless. Fear and doubt have corrupted our souls.”
“Well, I disagree,” said Alaana. “I look into your souls, and I tell you they still shine. You’re not done yet.”
Sir Walter Gekko was dreaming of a green leafy jungle on the coast of Madagascar. He was running in the sweltering heat, flushed with panic, having just e
ncountered a wild animal resembling a mountain lion. But as he ran, the lush green forest melted into white, an unrelenting white, and the heat became a burning bath of bitter cold.
He woke up with a start. Trembling, he pulled the fur blankets tighter around his body. Furs? He strained to recall what had happened. The dream seemed too much like reality. He had been running, that much was true, and running naked through the arctic cold.
The ship. The Vengeance was lost.
He sat up. Noona, who had been lying behind him, pressing her warmth up against his back, sat up as well.
“Where are we?” he asked.
“In a cave,” she said. “Lay down. You’re shivering again.”
A quick glance around the place revealed nothing much to look at. The floor was ice and the walls and ceiling as well. Already Gekko felt dizzy from sitting up. He allowed his wife to pull him back down, and she wrapped herself around his backside again. The furs, pulled tight, did provide a semblance of warmth.
“Where did you get these furs?”
“There’s a cache here.”
“Your people have a cache. Here?”
“Not ours. Someone else.”
“I don’t understand. How could you know it was here?”
“It’s not that hard to know,” she answered patiently. “From the shape of the berg, there must be shelter here from the wind. When I saw the cave, I knew. It’s a very good place. People always keep things in good places. Just in case.”
Gekko chuckled. “I see. Any food?
“No.”
The cave smelled faintly of bear. And something else as well. Gekko turned to face his wife. After her bath in the icy water she smelled completely different. Gone the scent of fish oil, and soot, and dried walrus fat. Now he smelled only Noona. A wonderful smell. He drank deep.
She rubbed his shoulders and neck, using the quick rhythm that brought with it a hint of warmth. Between her ministrations and the luxurious furs, he felt life returning to his arms and legs. He coughed dryly. It was still difficult to take a deep breath.
“I’m so hungry,” he said.
“Just rest for now.”
“I’m afraid to sleep. It’s so cold. I’m afraid I’ll die.”
“It’s all right,” she said, caressing his cheek. “You can sleep. Don’t worry.”
Gekko was indeed worried, but could keep his eyes open no longer.
Gekko woke to the impossible smell of cooking meat.
He was alone in the furs. He sat up.
It was still daylight. Noona had a little fire going immediately beside their makeshift bed. And sure enough, she was cooking a small animal.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
How did he feel? He took stock of himself. He felt warmer than before, or at least much less cold. Stronger. He had full sensation in his arms and legs, ten fingers and toes, and he counted that a major victory. His breathing was easier as well.
“My head hurts,” he said, “and I’m starving.”
She handed him a small joint of roasted meat. He bit eagerly into it. Unseasoned and undercooked, it tasted gamey.
“Is this rabbit?”
“Yes.”
“I am amazed,” he said. “How on earth did you catch a rabbit? Here?”
“I run very fast when I’m hungry,” she said.
He laughed. “I’m sure.”
“Also, it had a bad leg.” She motioned toward the bone he held in his hand.
“This one? It tastes all right though.”
She laughed.
“Is there water?” he asked. Then he shook his head. “Oh, I’m just not myself. This whole place is water, isn’t it?”
He reached for a handful of crusted snow, but she stopped him before he put it into his mouth.
“That’s salt water snow,” she said. “You can’t drink that.”
“Oh, right.”
“Later I’ll get something for us to drink. There’s some clear ice, if you know where to look. When ice sits for more than two winters the salt goes out of it. I’ll get some for us in a little while.”
He looked gratefully at the little fire, noticing she had used some scraps of wood and a little coal, both of which must have come from the wreckage of the Vengeance. Even more impressive, he noticed his clothes hanging from a niche in the wall, suspended by a rock on top of a ledge. Below the garments lay a pile of crusted ice, fallen from where she had beaten it out of them. Noona wore her own parka, thus restored. Instead of munching on snow hare, she had one of his boots in her mouth.
“We’re not far from the ship?” he asked.
“No.”
“Was anyone else left alive? I guess not. Or they’d be here with us.”
She shook her head.
“What is this place?” he asked. “You told me before, but I can’t remember.”
“It’s very old. I think it belonged to the Tunrit.”
“I don’t know what that is,” he said.
“The first men. So many years ago. A hundred times a hundred.”
“A thousand years ago?”
Noona shook her head. “A thousand times a thousand.”
“You’re talking about the stone age.”
She shrugged. “They were the first men in Nunatsiaq. I know their stories. Some of them. They bargained with the spirits, binding them to the Old Agreement so that we could have food. They built the fishing weirs for us. One of them brought fire from the sky.”
“Oh,” he said. “We have stories like that too. The Greeks call that fellow Prometheus — the one that brought fire. He got into quite a mess over that one. The other gods tied him to a rock. They tortured him for it, I’m afraid. Each day a bird would appear and eat his liver. It’s just a story.”
“It’s not true?” she asked.
“No.”
“The Tunrit are true,” she insisted. “And they did bring the sun.”
“Okay why don’t you tell me all about it while we soften those clothes. Hand me something to chew.”
Noona shook her head. “That’s women’s work.”
“Well, there are too many for you to do alone. I don’t mind.” Then he whispered, “We won’t tell your mother.”
Noona laughed and handed him his trousers.
“Use your back teeth,” she said. “Chomp down and grind back and forth.”
“Right,” he said. And for the next few hours he tasted good English flannel.
Gekko searched the wreckage. The remains of three men, unmolested by predators and perfectly preserved by the cold, still lay sprawled on the ice. One of them, the caulker’s mate, had his shirt half off. Poor unlucky bastard.
“He had the right idea at the last, but too late,” said Gekko.
Noona didn’t answer. She continued sorting through whatever scraps remained from the Vengeance. A few of the ship’s stores had been blown out onto the ice, probably by Gekko’s explosive cannon shot.
These men should have a proper burial, he thought. Then, quite suddenly, he realized that he was looking at a sizable cache of food. His mouth watered involuntarily at the thought, though he found the idea completely repulsive. But half a roasted snow hare had done very little to assuage his raging hunger, and surely they faced a prospect of slow starvation in this wilderness despite Noona’s native skills. Gekko was hungry enough to eat human flesh. And it could not be denied, there was a lot of meat on a man’s leg. He tried to imagine what it would taste like — probably not so very different from bear meat, which he had eaten on occasion in the arctic.
He glanced at Noona as she sorted through the ice. She had not suggested any such thing, and it seemed to him she was purposely staying clear of these dead men. He doubted she had even gone through their pockets. Grave robbery and cannibalism, he thought. Was that what he had been reduced to?
Well, grave robbery, at least, fell solidly under the purview of survival. He had no problem with that. But cannibalism? No, thank you. Sir Walter Gekko, a Knight of
the Realm, would rather die than taste roasted man-flesh in his mouth. He doubted he would have been able to swallow such a meal in any case. Just the thought of it made him want to retch.
The trousers of the caulker’s mate provided a compass, a pocket knife and two silver crowns. Gekko placed the coins over the dead man’s eyes. The other two bodies were inaccessible at the moment, separated from the main floe by streams of seawater. No burials today, he thought.
If only Noona had been able to save these men as well. But she had had her hands full trying to keep her husband from freezing to death, and herself as well. She couldn’t help them too.
Noona had found an empty coffee tin, a farthing pouch which she had filled with loose coal, and a few more scraps of wood. She had bundled the items together in a little traveling bag of spare fur.
And there we are, he thought.
“We have to walk,” she said.
Walk! Gekko glanced around. It was unbroken white to every side. At least they had perpetual daylight. But there were no landmarks to speak of. He flipped open the sailor’s compass, knowing full well what he would find. The needle circled slowly, unable to give direction. Magnetic readings weren’t worth a damn this close to the pole.
“Which way?” he asked.
“That way.” Noona pointed confidently toward the featureless horizon.
“How do you know?”
“It’s simple.” She gestured out across the tundra. “Look at the color of the ice. Sufauraaqtaaq, the dull blue of sludge ice. Sixagiksaaq, the faded blue of pancake ice.” She pointed beneath their feet, “Piqaluyak, the deep blue of pack ice.”
Gekko noticed a subtle difference at best. “Right. Simple.”
She gestured again at some ill-defined point on the horizon. “The ice is softer there. That way is the way home.”
“Surely we can’t walk all the way…”
They had been walking for eight hours by his best estimate and now he was left in the unenviable position of both being exhausted and not wanting to stop. When they walked there was a sort of heat generated up through the legs and into the rest of his body. With the shallow method of breathing Noona had shown him, he was able to keep the cold air from creeping too deeply into his chest. Eight hours. He ran a quick computation. He could usually walk a mile in fifteen minutes, and they’d kept up a brisk pace on the flat ice. Four miles in an hour — that made roughly thirty two miles for the day. Thirty two miles was a long way, but here in this featureless wilderness it seemed like nothing. They could expect no rescue from the British or anyone else. How many hundreds of miles would it take to reach the nearest village? He didn’t want to know.