Breakaway: Clan of the Ice Mountains (35 page)

Attu had abandoned the ice wrap on his head once the snow had melted, and his head felt hot now and hugely swollen. His eyesight seemed blurry also, but he couldn’t tell if it was from his injury or because it was darker here where the moonlight didn’t reach the base of the pass.

Looking ahead, Attu saw the path was blocked by water. He could go no further. The ridge ended at the water’s edge, and there was no way up or out from here. Frustrated, he sat down and held his pounding head in his hands. Rika hadn’t been trapped here. He’d hoped to find her at some point on the path, but she must have moved along farther. And that meant she might have been caught in the water as it raced down the path. She would’ve tried to make it, to warn the others, that Attu knew.
She is that brave.

Stuck at the edge of the moving water with no way to go further, Attu spent the rest of the night curled in a ball to keep warm, his head causing him to sleep fitfully and dream of Rika, at first running to the clans in time to warn them, and then Rika riding the waves like the whale fish, looking at him with eyes of terror, finally Rika disappearing into the water like Banek, never to be seen again...

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S
omeone was shaking him. “Don’t, my head,” Attu mumbled and put his hands up to hold his throbbing head. Hands grabbed his. “Rika?” he asked, struggling to open his eyes.

He couldn’t see.

“Rika!” Attu began screaming, and he pushed the hands away from him and tried to stand up, but the hands held him down.

“Attu, it’s me, your father,” the voice said. Attu felt arms around him, holding him, lifting him.

“Father?” Attu asked. “Is everyone, is Rika...”

“Rika is fine, we are all fine,” Ubantu said as he held on to Attu, steadying him. As Attu stood there, Ubantu’s shape began to form before his eyes, dark, out-of-focus, but he could see the light and shadows around him.

“How did you reach me?” Attu asked.

“The water has receded enough for us to walk along the edge of the pass. It’s narrow and you must be careful, but we can make it back.”

“Did the water strike the clans?”

“No,” Ubantu said, turning to steady Attu, who was wobbling on his feet. “Are you hurt?” He asked as Attu almost fell.

“My head.” Attu pointed to the back of his head.

Ubantu let out a low whistle as he saw the lump. “Let’s get you back to the clan.”

Attu began walking, stumbling every few steps because he couldn’t see anything except outlines, light and dark in front of him. He said nothing to his father, however, letting him think it was from weakness instead and allowing Ubantu to support him, to lead him along the path.

“That must have been some rock that hit you,” Ubantu murmured.

“Tell me what happened, Father. Did Rika make it in time to warn you?” Attu asked.

“Rika made it. She warned us and everyone turned and ran, just like we did over the ice. No one panicked as we reached the narrow opening and we made it far enough away from the opening just as the waters began flowing.”

Ubantu looked at Attu. He added, “And Paven killed Moolnik.”

“What?” Attu couldn’t believe what his father was saying.

“Paven and I were the last ones out of the pass. Or at least we thought we were. Then Paven heard someone running hard along the stones of the ravine toward us. It was Moolnik. Paven saw him first and when he recognized him, he grabbed his spear and threw it, killing my brother instantly.” Ubantu looked away, his face inscrutable. “It had to be done. It was clan law to kill the man immediately. We left the body where it lay, and Moolnik’s body was swept out to sea on the first wall of water rushing down the pass.”

“I am sorry you lost your brother,” Attu said.

“I lost him a long time ago, my son. I realize that, now. A long time ago.”

They walked on for a time in silence before Ubantu spoke again.

“We made it to safety just as a wall of water crashed out of the pass. If you look now as we go through it, the pass is wider than it was by at least a spear’s throw. The water broke through the rocks like they were made of thin ice and crashed into the sea. The sea rose up in a huge wave, and it pounded down on the beach. But we had made it far enough away from the opening. No lives were lost.”

“How is Rika?” Attu asked.

“She’s sleeping. Her foot miks had torn, and her feet were bloody from running across the sharp rocks in them. She kept crying out for you, so your mother gave her something to make her sleep.”

Ubantu stopped then, and turned Attu to face him. Attu could see the shadow of his father’s face, a little clearer than before.

“Moolnik dreamed, too, did you know, Father?”

“No.”

“He knew the pass was blocked and would be about to break as the clans came through. He dreamed it all. He was going to save the clans by telling everyone when the time was right. But after the clans swore to kill him, he decided to take revenge on us all.” Attu explained about Moolnik setting his trap, including the rope he had rigged for his own escape.

“But son, how did you know these things?” Ubantu asked, confused. “Why did you allow him to speak at all? Why didn’t you kill him like Paven did when he saw him, instantly?”

“Because of Rika.”

“Rika?”

“Yes, Father. Rika had dreamed she must show mercy when judgment was called for, and that somehow this would save the clans. I dreamed we must go through the pass together, first.” Attu ducked his head and flinched as his head throbbed. “I was hesitant to tell you because Rika was in the dream. She was the ‘one who will bear my sons and daughters’.”

That statement took a little more explaining, but Ubantu quickly understood why Attu hadn’t told them about the dream. How could he, when Rika was promised to another? No one would have believed him.

“And only you and Rika could have saved the clans,” Ubantu said, as he considered all that had happened, “once Moolnik turned to the evil spirits, letting them control him instead of using what he knew to help us all. Only you would listen to Rika, believe in her need to show mercy, let Moolnik live long enough to tell you what you needed to know to save us. Only you, who had dreamed also, would believe him, as Moolnik believed you. Only you and Rika could have done this thing.”

“I know.” Attu shook his head in wonder at the way of the spirits, the dreaming and the white-haired, blue-eyed man who seemed to be behind it all. Somehow, he had even known Moolnik would betray his people.

“I wonder why I did not dream of the blocked pass?”

Neither of them had an answer to that question.

Attu filled his father in on the rest of what he had been told as they continued walking toward camp.

“Elder Nuanu is dead?” Ubantu asked when Attu mentioned how she had helped them.

“Yes.”

“Paven is very angry, because-”

“Do not worry, father,” Attu said, and he told his father how Elder Nuanu had bonded them before she died.

“Rika knows the words of protection for a woman?” Ubantu asked.

“Yes, she does.”

“Good,” Ubantu said, and Attu could hear the relief in his voice. Then Ubantu smiled broadly as he considered what else Attu had said about Rika. “And she will bear you sons... and daughters?” Ubantu smacked his thigh with his palm and laughed. “I will be a grandfather to many.” He grabbed Attu more firmly by the shoulder.

Attu smiled, glad to see his father pleased. And, Attu noticed as they walked along, his father no longer limped at all.

The two traveled in silence for a while. Attu was exhausted. He wanted to get back to his family’s shelter and let his mother feed him and treat his head wound. He wanted to curl up beside Rika and sleep, leave everything else behind him. He was so tired, he thought he could sleep forever.

They rounded the last bend in the pass, and Attu saw the torn opening where the water had rushed through. He popped his lips in amazement at the damage.
Who knew water on the move could be so powerful?
He shook his head, then regretted it as new stabs of pain encircled his skull. Ubantu reached out and grabbed Attu’s shoulder, steadying him. Then his father’s grip tightened.

“Remain quiet,” his father whispered.

Attu looked ahead. He could just make out the shape of a large man striding toward him.

“He is mine,” growled Paven. “He will pay for dishonoring my daughter.”

Attu imagined the man’s scarred face twisting in anger as he stared at Paven, seeing only his outline against the sky.
So this is what I get for saving Rika’s life?
Attu thought. It all seemed so remote, so unreal, all this posturing about hunter’s honor and women’s honor and all the rest. They’d fought Moolnik and escaped drowning and discovered a whole new world. Yet all Paven could see were the old ways.

His father had told him to stay quiet. Attu had been quiet and obedient his whole life. No longer. He was a hunter and had a woman and was equal to or better than Paven. He and Rika had saved the entire clan, no two clans, more than once. His time of silence was over.

“Rika is no longer yours, Paven; she is bonded to me,” Attu said. “We will go back to camp and settle this like men. And you’re welcome, by the way, for saving your daughter’s life and your own, as well as everyone else.”

Attu broke away from his father and strode past Paven as if he were not there, standing to block Attu’s way. Attu kept walking toward the opening to the beach and Rika. He didn’t once look back.

“R
ika spoke the words of protection!” Yural shouted. “She is my daughter by bonding now, not yours. You will not take her!”

Yural faced Paven squarely, her eyes flashing anger, her hands clenched. Other women of both clans began moving behind her, reinforcing her position against Paven, who’d been yelling at Attu’s mother just moments before, demanding she release Rika back to him.

“We have the words of protection,” one of Paven’s older women spoke up. “They are ours, to protect our honor, to ensure everyone, even you,” and the woman curled her lips into a sneer at Paven, “that your daughter has followed all ritual. Elder Nuanu had every right to bond the hunter and his woman. She spoke the words over them and gave Rika both her own sacred amulet and the words of protection. It is the way of our people, Paven. The deed is done and you cannot undo it or you dishonor Rika and bring shame to us all.”

Paven swore and turned away, pushing himself through the others to his shelter. He stalked in, pulling the hide door closed behind him.

“It’s safe now,” Yural called back to their family’s shelter. Rika slipped out from behind the shelter’s hide flap, with Attu beside her.

“You should have let me handle it, Mother,” Attu said, as the pair reached Yural. He kept his voice low so the others couldn’t hear. “I felt like a child, lurking behind the hides out of sight.”

“Some things are a woman’s job, a woman’s right,” his mother replied. “It isn’t about you anymore, but about Rika and the way of the women.”

Yural pulled herself up to her full height, and even though the top of her head barely came to Attu’s shoulder, Attu felt the power emanating from her.
Will she become the next Elder Nuanu?
He wondered. He stepped back, deferring to her judgment.

“Come on,” Rika said, grabbing at Attu’s sleeve and pulling him away from the women. “I want to start through the pass ahead of everyone else, so we can get our packs and make sure the rest of the way is clear. The women will deal with my father, and I’m not going to worry about how he feels anymore.”

Had it only been a day since he’d stumbled into his family’s shelter, falling beside Rika, and reaching for her as he slipped into unconsciousness again? His mother had treated his head wound. Rika had made him a potion that eased the pain. The two women had worked to make him comfortable, to feed him, and as they did, they chattered as if they’d known each other all their lives. Attu watched as Yural beamed at her new daughter.

Meavu and Ubantu had been given a chance to visit with Attu, but just briefly. Then they’d been told to give him some time to rest. It had been so good to have Meavu hugging him and pestering him again. He’d promised her he would tell her all about his adventures on the floating ice chunk after he was feeling better. His eyesight was back to normal, but his head still hurt whenever he moved.

Attu realized Rika had stopped in the path, and he felt the tug of her hand in his as she looked up at him.

“I belong to your family now, and I trust in your mother’s strength,” Rika said. She grinned up at him. “Your father’s too, of course.” Then she began walking toward the opening to the pass, even more quickly than before. “Let’s go!”

“My head hurts,” Attu complained. Walking made it worse. He didn’t think one day of rest was enough, but the clans were eager to move through the pass now, and he and Rika did want to be first, even if they no longer needed to be.

“We can take the ridge trail, backtrack to the path beside the moving water, and be almost through the pass before the clans get halfway,” Rika said. “We’ll be first to the place you told me about, the place of the symbols, and the wise man who could talk to you in your dreams.”

Attu tried to hurry in spite of his headache. He was as eager as Rika to get through the pass.

There was no place where the ridge disappeared on the side where Attu and Rika walked, and it didn’t take long for them to round the last bend in the pass. There before them lay a green expanse of plants, stretching out to the horizon. Large shapes moved along, gathered together in groups. They were a long way away, but still Attu could see these huge animals had long fur that hung on them like hair, and a few had long curved tusks, one on each side of their face, like male nuknuks.

“They seem to be plant eaters,” Rika said. “I’m glad.”

“Me, too.”

Attu and Rika walked down the ridge as the pass opened up toward what seemed to be a stand of trees, where mountains met the flat land.

“This way, I think,” Attu said. “I’ve seen this before, in my dream.”

It was farther than they’d first thought. Distances from above were deceptive, Attu decided, but it was still light when they reached the trees. Within their tall branches, people moved, fires were lit, and shelters made out of plants instead of hides could be seen here and there in a small cleared space against the large black rock of the mountain.