Nalor grunted, and the woman halted, staring shards of blue hate back into him. He stared back just as hard, and the air between seemed to jellify into a faint blue. The ice cliff wept, and corpses poured forth.
The flame in Nalor’s hand pulsated, and a series of liquid pops sounded from the bluebody. Suddenly, the woman’s head and spinal cord ripped off her body and flipped off into the void. The blue light in her eyes died and the rest of her slipped off to follow.
All was silent on the face of the cliff until Nalor broke into a laugh. “A bluebody. Tiaavuluk. Someone sent a bluebody here for us. Must have crawled from wherever the ice slotted it.”
Orluvoq groaned and tried to right herself, a difficult task as she lacked both pick and candle. “What was that?”
“I think it best we explain topside. No need to leave ourselves vulnerable for what else might be lurking Nunapisu.”
“Wait.” Panic poured into her. “Did my mother fall off during the fight?”
“No, she wasn’t in the danger zone, luckily.” He doused the normal candle, then transferred the blue flame to his pick hand. “And this,” he pulled off a bauble crafted of bone from her mother, “means that the mission was a success. I’ll carry you since you look a little rattled. And lost your candle.”
“And then you threw it off into the void?” Paarsisoq popped another cube of fat into his mouth, the steady sway of an oil lamp casting light on his features.
“Precisely, Paarsi.” Nalor followed suit and fed himself some more.
“I’ve seldom heard talk of bluebodies, and now they’re in my domain?”
“It’s not a particularly common topic of discussion outside of certain circles.”
The Watcher turned to Orluvoq. “And to think, that could have been you and me instead of you and him.” He laughed. “We’d both be getting better acquainted with darkness right now.”
I guess he did save my life and help me get the token. She massaged the new bone carving strung around her neck. Maybe he isn’t all bad. Even if he does kill people.
“What we have to figure out is who sent the cursed thing,” Nalor said. “And was it for one of us, or just coincidence?”
“It was for me.” Orluvoq rubbed at her snotty nose.
Nalor faced her. “How can you be so sure?”
“The bluebody. It was a woman from Terianniaq. I’ve seen her before. And… and I’ve seen her dead body before. She had a stab wound over her heart that could have been from tuuaaq, now that I think about it.” She squinted at the memory not of her first dead body, but of her first murdered body.
“Hm, interesting indeed,” Nalor mused. “So, from that I think we can conclude that someone from Terianniaq is the perpetrator. But who? Whoever this tirigusuusik, I don’t like him. I think that very soon he won’t like me either. He should have avoided the things to avoid.” A shadow that made Orluvoq uneasy passed over his face with the last pronouncement. It vanished with a smile. “And are you still set on returning to your old home? To your rejectors?”
“Well, I don’t have anything else.”
“Someone there did just try to kill you.”
“I…”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure it was a happy accident for them.” Nalor rocked his head with strokes of the chin. “The ice decides where to place a body in Nunapisu. That tirigusuusik must have sought a vision of you, then buried the body when he thought he had a chance. I would bet that bluebody would have come after you wherever you settled in.”
“You could stay here,” Paarsisoq offered her. “I mean, I talk with someone at least every other week, but it can still get lonely.”
She shook her head. “Thanks, but I need to be with my clan. It’s my blood.”
The Watcher looked a little defeated, but he quickly brushed it off.
“I assume you don’t know the fastest way to get back.” Nalor devoured a slice of meat.
“Windwalking?” she responded.
“Oh, so close. I’m talking about the sky. Arsarneq.”
She frowned. “Arsarneq? I’m supposed to fly in the aurora?”
The older angakkuq grinned. “The aurora is a thing of beauty. It’s where we angakkuit get our powers. It’s where the narwhals—a main food source of all the Nuktipik peoples—live. And inside Arsarneq, your angakkuq powers are amplified. So, you may not be able to skywalk anywhere else, but you can in the aurora. The hunters prowl Arsarneq with their kites. The angakkuit reign inside it. There you can run faster than anywhere else. Skywalk back to your clan.”
“Wow. Could you go all the way to Qilaknakka?”
“Could I?” He chuckled. “Sure. Just strut up to old King Qummukarpoq at the start of the world and stay for some fish and leg wrestling. Could you? Not a chance.”
“Okay. And… how am I supposed to get up there? It’s not like there are any kites lying around here.” She anticipated his response with glee. She had always wanted to be a hunter.
“Well, one way is to make yourself extremely light. That has its ups and downs though.” He laughed at his own joke. “Another, as you have aptly named, is riding a kite. We don’t want to bother ourselves with either of those methods, though. The last option is to use a blue flame.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re going to give me a blue candle?”
“Has it been ten years yet?” He smirked a chuckle. “No, I’m going to ferry you into Arsarneq’s holy light.”
Orluvoq’s jaw dropped. She put some fat in it. “And then I can skywalk to Terianniaq?”
“Yes. But it will have to be tonight, because I have places to be. You won’t fall asleep on me, will you?”
“No, sir.” She swirled her finger around her empty pocket, wishing it contained more tuuaaq. She’d eaten the last gift from Nalor on the trip back up Nunapisu. Fake strength. She knew it was false, yet she needed more of that counterfeit. Didn’t that make her more helpless?
“Right, then. The sun will be down in a couple hours. Have some fun until then.” He considered. “Or sleep.”
Two hours later, as Arsarneq snaked across the sky, Orluvoq said her goodbyes.
“Here.” Paarsisoq offered her a stick of her tuuaaq. “But only if you promise to only nibble at it. I know that going off it completely can be pretty severe.”
“Oh, I will,” she promised, overjoyed at the feel of bone in her gloved fingers. The shame from meeting her dead mother surged and wrapped around her heart. How could she take joy in dishonor and weakness? She wrapped the Watcher in a soft hug. “Thanks for helping. And watching and stuff. I’ll miss you.”
He smiled and stroked her hair, other hand pressing her tight to him.
She pulled away and turned to Nalor. She still wasn’t sure what she thought of him. No, that wasn’t true. She thought he was good, but scary. “Thanks for not killing me and for helping me find my mom.”
“An absolute pleasure.” He made a grand bow. “This side excursion has proven more beneficial than any of us could have anticipated. Light your candle.”
Despite her shame, she nearly choked on resentment putting Paarsisoq’s tuuaaq gift away. Orluvoq pulled out a candle and a scratch of heatmoss, bringing the wick aflame.
Nalor gave a satisfied smile. “You know, I’ve known angakkuit who had worked the candles for ten years and weren’t as good as the little I’ve seen from you. Look for me when you’re older and I’ll have some very interesting work for you.”
“Will I have to murder people?”
“I believe I answered that question earlier. Now, are you ready to skywalk?”
“Wait,” she interjected. “If being in the aurora amplifies my angakkuq powers, then how strong is a tirigusuusik up there?”
A grin dripped onto his lips. “Talk to me in ten years and find out.” He lit his blue candle, the flame sucking away her warmth.
“Spirits,” said Paarsisoq huddling into himself, “that’s quite the demon you carry.”
“Alright, Orluvoq,” said Nalor,
“whatever you do, don’t drop that candle.”
“Okay, so—”
He grabbed her under the arms and exploded into the sky with a whirl of legs. Small minutes later, he dropped her into Arsarneq and vanished toward the distant ice.
The wind that tore at Orluvoq’s ears and face evaporated. Ghostly green usurped control of her mind, bleeding in through her eyes, weeping in through her ears. Silence both austere and imposing cloaked her, spun her in a languid circle.
Arsarneq.
The light that she could almost notice when she consumed tuuaaq streamed all around her, swaddling her in power. She bit at it, but her teeth came down on nothing. How did the narwhals do it? The itch to fill herself with mental healing burned like a thousand candles in the face of a luxuriant, untouchable stream of the stuff.
Oh, wait. She took out the piece of tusk the Watcher had given back and took a bite—not a big one, though. Neither her resources nor tasks ahead could support that.
The young angakkuq centered herself and issued a volley of words at her candle, though less than she was wont to. The glim responded, and she shot off down the tunnel that was full but somehow hollow. Her footfalls connected with nothing, yet she ran. No wind assailed her. Her clothes rustled somewhat but didn’t flutter. The aurora devoured what little sound they made, and everything clipped off after a few feet.
The ground far below shifted more slowly than she had thought it would. But wasn’t she going unbelievably fast? How could she be running faster than she’d ever run before, but the ground looked like she was just walking over it? She tried running faster.
Hours later, Orluvoq’s eyelids wrestled to remain apart. She’d try closing just one and hooding the other. She even tried holding one open with her fingers, but it just defocused and wandered around.
A low, disembodied groan reached her ears. She jolted awake. Narwhals. She dropped close to the bottom of Arsarneq and avoided the dark blurs. If just one of them was pointed north, her sleepy southbound body could get a bellyful of that tusk she so coveted.
Then maybe Nalor could use it to make bluebodies, or whatever it is you do with five blue flames. Or wait, does that only count if you murdered someone with the tusk? Can the light of Arsarneq tell if it was just an accident?
She decided that green light probably couldn’t discern the intent of a particular killing. Then she thought about it some more and decided that maybe it could. She’d just have to remember to ask Nalor the next time she saw him, in ten years or however long. Or maybe she could just accidentally kill someone with tuuaaq before then and find out herself.
No, better just wait. He’d probably visit soon to talk to the tirigusuusik anyway.
A finger of unease poked her heart, indicating that she needed to redose on tuuaaq. Someone from Terianniaq had killed this woman, then possessed her body, sent her to Nunapisu, and then—planned or not—commanded her to attack Orluvoq. That person was going to be there when she arrived. That person was still going to want her dead. They’d probably turn her into a bluebody and send her to kill someone else.
She slowed her skywalking. Maybe I should just turn around and run back to Nunapisu. They’ll kill me if I come. I would have realized that sooner if my head wasn’t full of tuuaaq. If I was strong, like Mama.
But wasn’t that what she had wanted all along? To die? Hadn’t the whole point of her excursion been a final fling at hope? Or more appropriately, a final fling with hope? One last affair with hope before immutably resigning her spirit to hopelessness?
If so, what would completing this journey do? What would it be?
She stood in the sky, buoyed up by a green phantom, surveying the world below and her life ahead.
It would be the end.
Dead father. Dead mother. Clan reject. Tuuaaq addict. Clueless girl. Helpless girl. Hopeless girl.
She nodded and licked her chapped lips.
I’m ready for the end.
Orluvoq queried the candle for directions to Terianniaq then resumed her pace. They would take her token, then eventually her life. But this time, she was ready. This time, they wouldn’t take her hope, for she had none.
7
Paarsisoq
16 Years Prior
The days grew longer, stretching like a white bear stirring from sleep and sticking its nose toward food. Before long, the sun would show its face throughout the night and the great narwhal hunt would be off. Paarsisoq liked to imagine that sitting there at the end of the world, he could still see the green glow of Arsarneq in the deep void to the north when the sun hovered a finger above the horizon to the south.
Ten years at Nunapisu had brought many surprises, the greatest of which might have been the fact that he had survived. Survived the storms. Survived the times when he called to caribou or rabbits with the candles, but none came. Survived the torrents of heartbreak he had taken upon himself—and those lingering breakages he had no choice but to suffer. The loneliness so cold it burned. The urges to thrust himself into somber oblivion.
There was something both intoxicating and sobering living at the end of everything; knowing that you could end your being at the merest flicker of whim, trusting that you possessed the strength to do exactly the opposite. Sometimes the Watcher wondered why he stayed. Ships aplenty would take him in. A few clans would accept an able-bodied man as a laborer. But every time he wondered, someone came along and reminded him. He was the final shred of hope, the last defense. He was the one for the ones who had none.
He stared off toward the line dividing something and nothing. Not the line dividing life and death, for even death was something. Contemplations floated through his head about which side he felt closer to today. He hadn’t been able to save that teenage boy two days ago, the one whose clan had eaten his father in recompense for a murder. The one who had wailed that if he couldn’t be with his father, then he couldn’t be.
Today, Paarsisoq leaned toward nothing.
Sounds of anguish came sailing over the ice, pulling him from his ponderings. Without even looking, he knew it was a woman, and she wanted to die forever.
He followed the sounds with his ears until he could follow the woman with his eyes. Tiaavuluk, she was beautiful. He directed his pace until he strode alongside her. She calmed her cries but didn’t stop the tears rolling down her face. The Watcher waited until they were close to the brink to break the silence.
“Before you go, please share some of my caribou. I’ve just recently killed it and can’t possibly finish it all by myself.”
She turned to give him a quizzical look. He tried not to react to the bruises purpling the left side of her face.
“It’s a long way to the bottom, and I can’t imagine falling all that way on an empty stomach.”
Her brow stayed plastered in a pained frown until at last she gave the slightest of nods.
“Right this way.” He hooked a gentle hand under her arm and led her toward his igloo. After directing her to a seat carved of ice out front, he set about preparing the meat.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked as she stared into the darkness beyond the door. “In its own strange way.”
“I suppose.”
Wow, she really was a spectacle, albeit a laconic one. But beauty was not the ultimate ward against hardship.
“That’s why you’re here, no? You find more beauty out there,” he motioned to the abyss, “than out there.” He motioned his other hand at the ice. “You’d rather jump and forget you ever existed than spend another day with your tribulations.”
“I suppose.” She took the meat he offered.
“Well, if you need a few days to consider, then I have plenty of room and extra blankets in the igloo.” He took a bite himself.
She swallowed then paused in bringing the next bite to her mouth. The woman licked her lips and tried twice to talk before finally getting words out. “Will you… will you just hold me?”
The Watcher quirked an eyebrow, then scooted around beside h
er and took the distraught girl in his arms. She returned the embrace and shook with sobs. He ran his hand across her back until the heaving dwindled to staggered puffs.
“I don’t know who you are,” she said, “but I know what you are. You’re a miracle.” She shuddered out a breath. “I’ve heard stories about you. The Watcher. A man I met told me you not only saved his life, but his existence. After my daughter… after she died, I realized that I either wanted to get a new life, or I didn’t want to exist.”
“A new life? And what did your old life consist of?” He pulled back to look at her. Tiaavuluk, bruising notwithstanding, she had him stunned.
The woman shook her head. “Please, I’d rather not say. I think that goes against the principle of getting a new life. Do you mind if…”
He drew her in again, and they sat swaddled in the mile-thin hush of neglected eternity. Their twinned breathing quilted the air with a patchwork of truths unuttered, resonances that heavy spirits needn’t—or couldn’t—speak. Minutes brushed by like eyelashes batting flakes in a soundless storm.
“I can’t tell you how much it means to be held by someone who doesn’t have any preconceptions about who I am,” the woman whispered after a spell. “I can’t remember the last time I actually felt loved, but I’ll never forget this. I don’t quite understand it, but somehow I can feel that you love me even though we’ve just met.”
Paarsisoq nodded. “I love everybody that is driven to the end of the world. I can’t help it. That’s why this job is sometimes hard—harder than I imagined, at least. Every time I fail, and someone casts themselves into the infinite nothing, I feel like a piece of me is destroyed with them.”
Her gaze lingered on him. “You’re a good man, Watcher. I wish I could say that about most of the men I’ve met.”
“How’d your daughter die?”
The woman’s face distorted with grief and anger. “She… I don’t… it was at the hands of some of those not so good men from my past life. And that’s all I really can say about it at this point.”
Orluvoq Page 8
