Breakaway: Clan of the Ice Mountains (7 page)

But what can I do? The whole clan knows now that I was warned of something coming. They do not believe, even with what Elder Tovut said before he died. I’m just a young hunter in their eyes, even if I did save the clan by warning them of the crack in the Great Frozen.

Increased holes in the ice, the sun warmer every day and higher in the sky. A sense of foreboding, niggling at me like my dreams are haunting me. Nuvikuan-na, the habitation of my people, is changing, the sky above, the water below no longer clearly divided by ice. Now, we need not drill holes at all to fish, for the nuknuk holes are not freezing over immediately, sometimes not even after darkness falls. The nights seem to be growing shorter, the suns longer. The ice crunches oddly under my feet, the wind feels wrong. The color of the sky, it seems less blue, sometimes hazy, odd. All these changes fill me with a sense of both unease and anticipation. I feel like when a fish touches my line, as well as like when a storm is coming and I’m far from shelter.

Attu’s spirit was singing in his blood, “Prepare, prepare,” but he didn’t know how.
What new danger is coming? What did the snow mound chasing me mean? And the woman across the crack in the ice?

Attu turned back to his spear sharpening, gritting his teeth on the words he desired to speak, and allowing himself to only think them, instead.

Why doesn’t Father take the leadership back now that he’s once again strong in his body, hunting with the rest as if he were never injured? Why must it be our mother who speaks the truth while he just sits there and lets his brother have his way?

Attu felt ashamed of his father’s passivity, and he didn’t like that feeling. Long after Moolnik had gone and his mother had shortened the nuknuk lamp wick so they could sleep in the semi-darkness of its warming light, Attu’s thoughts kept biting at the corners of his mind like tooth fish fingerlings with their sharp teeth.

T
he clan neared the large land mass late the following sun. Moolnik was leading again, and he soon left the rest of the clan behind in his eagerness to gain land. Attu was certain he would try to convince the hunters to stay there.

Attu grumbled as he walked, watching Moolnik and the other two lead hunters drawing further and further ahead of the group. It was warm again, and many of the people walked with their parka hoods thrown back.
It all feels wrong.

Attu turned to see where Meavu was, for although she’d been running back and forth between the hunters and the clan for most of the morning, she’d fallen behind a while ago, studying some hummocks of ice, which had somehow been pushed up out of the Expanse and into buckling mounds. The mounds must have been there for some time, because wind and weather had rounded them.

Meavu knew better than to go off the sure path the hunters had followed, so she was at least a spear throw from the mounds, but they were interesting to look at, with their shadowy bulk on the otherwise flat ice field of the Great Frozen. Sure enough, as Attu looked back, he saw Meavu standing on the path several spear throws behind the rest of the clan, apparently captivated by the sight of the mounds.

“Meavu,” he called to his sister. “You are falling too far behind. Come back!”

Meavu turned toward him, and he saw she was not alone. She was holding the hand of Shunut, Moolnik’s youngest son, who was little more than a toddler. Attu was surprised to see him so far from his mother, but Meavu was a favorite of Shunut’s and he liked to chase after her.

“I’m coming,” Meavu called. “Shunut is too big for me to carry and he’s growing tired.”

“I’ll wait for you, but hurry,” Attu said.

A small niggling began in Attu’s mind, a hint of a worry. Something was not right with the scene before him. It seemed oddly familiar. Attu shifted his weight, balancing his spear automatically in his throwing hand, getting ready
. But for what? Why are the hairs on the back of my neck rising? What’s wrong?

Attu scanned the horizon, listened hard. Nothing. No sound of ice cracking, no movement other than Meavu walking with little Shunut back toward the group. They were only a couple of spear throws away, when suddenly, one of the smaller ice mounds, which had been partially hidden by the others, moved. It detached itself from the ground and rose up. Attu saw four legs, a head, and wicked black claws as the mound leaped toward Meavu and Shunut, a spray of snow flying off it as it ran.

“Meavu!” Attu shouted, and grabbing his spear tightly, he raced toward his sister and little cousin.

Shunut, sensing the movement behind him, turned. The wall of white was coming at him, claws ripping into the ice. Shunut screamed.

Meavu turned as the beast roared, and Attu knew she saw the mouthful of dagger-like yellow teeth that showed as the white mound leaped across the ground, bellowing. It was huge, and still it moved fast.

Meavu did not scream. She grabbed Shunut up like he was a light pack and began to run toward Attu. But it was obvious they could not outrun the beast. And even if they did, where could they hide? There was no place safe from such a monster...

Attu raced toward the animal, for that must be what it was, a white wall of fur, with claws and teeth, just like he’d dreamed it would be. It was real, not a spirit, and if it was real he could kill it. He had to. His spear alone was not going to stop the beast, however; this Attu knew instinctively. It was far too large to be killed with one spear, but he kept running and pulled his knife from his belt also, glad he had worked the evening before to sharpen both his weapons.

Attu had almost reached his sister when the monster swept one massive paw as it ran, knocking Shunut out of Meavu’s grip. She fell backward in the snow, clutching her shoulder where she had been struck. Shunut tumbled across the ice and came to a stop. He lay there, unmoving.

The animal turned toward Shunut, and Attu knew this would be his only chance. He screamed a cry to give him strength, a cry from his very spirit, a cry of defiance toward this mad monster, and with his cry, he plunged his spear into the side of the creature where he guessed its heart to be.

The beast roared in pain. Turning to face Attu, it reared up on its hind legs, easily twice Attu’s height. His spear dangled from its side where a large red stain was growing against the white fur.

Attu leaped to the other side of the animal, drawing it away from the children. It swatted at him, roaring and rearing again and again as Attu barely kept out of its reach. Then it dropped to all fours and lunged. Attu dodged to the left, escaping the black curving claws as they flashed across his face. But the blow struck his shoulder. He felt his parka tear, and the force of the swiping paw spun him off balance. He fell, but leaped up again, his hands now red from the bloody snow.

The beast should be tiring, but even though blood spouted from its side, it came at Attu again, roaring and raging. It was too close. He was going to die. He was going to be caught in the grip of that dripping mouth of teeth as long as his fingers, and he was going to be ripped to pieces.

Suddenly, a stillness came over Attu. It was as if his spirit left his body, rising above the fight, and he looked down at himself, facing this monster with only a knife in his hand. And he knew what to do.

His spirit slammed back into his body as Attu leaped at the monster, catching it by surprise. Its claws raked the air where Attu had been standing just a moment before. Attu reached up, as high as he could, and as the creature came down on him, he sliced his knife across the animal’s throat, not just once, but three quick slashes, each one carving deeper into the beast’s neck. Blood spewed from the animal’s throat and the massive beast fell on him like a huge fur-covered boulder. Attu was swept under its body as the creature took one last swipe at him, and his back exploded in fire as vicious claws tore through his flesh. Then, nothing...

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A
ttu awoke to a sharp pain radiating up his back diagonally from his hip to his shoulder. He was lying on his stomach, but when he struggled to sit up, pain shot across his back. A cool hand eased him back onto the furs he was lying on and gently held him there. Attu took in a few shallow breaths to stop his rising nausea. The pain was overwhelming, but as he concentrated on breathing, the hot fire of it eased a bit, and he could think. He could feel the hand on his shoulder, and it steadied him, helped him to endure the pain.

Attu looked up, expecting to see his mother, Yural, resting her hand against him. Instead, he was surprised to see a girl about his own age, kneeling next to him, one hand firmly held against his uninjured shoulder, the other resting on a pouch in her lap.

Her skin was dark, and yet her eyes were light, almost the color of a new hide, light brown flecked with gold, large for a Nuvik and slanted upwards, with brows that slanted up as well. They made her look mischievous. She was wearing her hair loose, not braided, and its velvety blackness fell across her face as she leaned toward him, continuing to press her cool hand on him. He suddenly felt his nakedness under the furs covering his lower body. He looked away, feeling his face redden.

“You must not try to get up again,” the girl said. “I have to treat the bear wounds on your back or you will get the fever.”

She reached into the small pouch she was holding, pulled out a gooey brown paste and rubbed it on Attu’s back. The paste stung as it touched open flesh, and it was all Attu could do not to cry out. This was what had awoken him. He wished he’d stayed unconscious.

“I know. It hurts.”

That was his mother’s voice, and he raised his head enough to see her looking at him from behind the strange girl. Yural’s lips were a tight line in her face, her arms clenched across her body.

“Rika says the salve will heal you, will pull out the bad spirits that cause the fever. She’s a healer.”

Attu couldn’t tell if his mother was trying to reassure him or herself with this knowledge.

“Meavu?” he managed to ask, his throat so dry he could hardly speak. “Shunut?”

“They’re safe,” his mother said. “Meavu’s shoulder is bruised, and Shunut has a large bump on his head, but he’s come back from the Between. You saved them both.”

“And the beast?”

“Dead. I-”

“The ‘beast’ as you call it,” Rika interrupted his mother, “was an Ice Bear.” She shook her head. “Now, lay back and be quiet. I must finish tending your wounds.”

Attu rested his head on the furs. He must be hearing things. The ice bear was a spirit being, like trystas. It did not exist in the world of the living...

Rika began the gentle motion of salve spreading again. Attu peeked at her through half-closed eyes. Her face was impassive, her touch gentle, but still he felt a fine sheen of sweat break out across his upper lip and forehead as he forced himself to endure the pain of her ministrations without flinching away. Each touch was agony.

This can’t be happening,
Attu thought.
It’s not real. I’m probably dreaming. Mother is tending my wounds and I’m dreaming it is this girl, this Rika, instead.

Or,
he thought,
perhaps my spirit has left my body. Perhaps I’m dead. No, that doesn’t make any sense, for Mother is here. I’m just confused, that’s all... the pain... ice bear... this strange girl... like a dream... but the pain is real, and if that wasn’t an ice bear, then what was that monster?

Attu’s head was pounding in rhythm with the pain throbbing in his back. He couldn’t think. He gave up trying.

“He is brave,” the girl named Rika said to his mother, and Attu tried to listen again, to hear this girl’s words. It was as if he were listening from another room, however, the pain dulling his ears. The girl seemed bold, as if Attu were not lying right there in front of her as she spoke. He wanted to be angry with her for hurting him, and when she touched a new part of his back it was all he could do to hold still.

“He has always been strong,” Attu heard his mother reply while he struggled against the pain that smeared across his back, flaring with each stroke of Rika’s hand as she rubbed still more of the goo into his raw flesh. The two women continued speaking over him as if he were a small child. He wanted them to stop. And the pain... he desperately needed that to stop...

Attu took in a breath to steady himself, as a hunter must. The salve was spicy, and the whole shelter was filling with the smell. Attu’s eyes watered from the pungency, and he buried his face in the furs to protect them.

“Just one more,” Rika said, her voice like soft wind now, wind across newly fallen snow. “This is the deepest one, and will have to be stitched, but I must clean it with the salve first. Do you want a bone to bite on?”

Attu realized she must be looking at him, and he raised his head again. She was gazing at him, calmly waiting for his reply. Her message was clear.
Here comes the real pain,
as if what he’d been feeling before was just the preparation before the true test.

She will finish the cleansing, no matter how painful it is for me,
Attu thought.
Who is this girl, that my mother trusts her over Elder Nuanu to heal me?
He studied her.
She is so confident in her healing she’s able to sit there, knowing her treatment is excruciating, yet she proceeds to discuss the pain she’s causing me with my mother as if she were considering how best to cook a stew.

No matter who she was or how painful this last cleansing was going to be, it had to be done, Attu realized. He felt sick.

“
Finish,” he said, and quickly shoved his fist into his mouth as Rika spread another glob of salve into his back. It felt like she was cutting him again, like the beast had done. The shelter began to spin, and Attu cried out, biting down on his own knuckles in agony as everything went black.

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“Y
ou should have used the bone,” Rika said, a hint of teasing in her voice as she took Attu’s hand in her own.

“How long have I been in the Between?” Attu asked, as he looked at the hand Rika was holding. His teeth had penetrated the flesh, and she was spreading more of the spicy salve on it by the light of a nuknuk lamp.