by neetha Napew
Torka could not look away from the cloaks or from Umak’s beaming face. Umak’s wide, white smile displayed his fine, strong, serrate-edged teeth. Suddenly, as Lonit looked away from the cloaks and, weeping, buried her face in Torka’s shoulder, the headman gasped as though someone had dealt him a deathblow. With shaking hands he forcefully struck the cloaks from Umak’s hands. The boy’s face collapsed into hurt and shock. Although he was no longer smiling, all that Torka could see of him was his smile! His cursed, wolfish smile! It might as well have been Karana staring up at him in pale-faced disbelief. Karana .. . son of Navahk .. . brother of Umak?
The likelihood struck him like a spear in the belly. He almost vomited. It must be! The child of rape, the child of Navahk, sent to torment him for the rest of his days. Torka’s heart was aching and empty. Would he never have a son who would bring joy to his life?
“Father! I worked so hard to m-make something th-that would p-please you.”
“Please me! These cloaks are a gift of pain!” he raged, and as he drew Lonit, sobbing, into a protective embrace, he vented his anger and frustration. “What kind of son makes a gift by killing his parents’ symbols for life and love? What kind of son makes his mother weep? No son of mine!”
In that moment, sounds reached them from afar-disembodied sounds, screams of pain. And one word, faint, yet so clear and full of agony that no one in the cave failed to hear it or be touched by it:
“Man-aravak!”
And as Torka and Lonit looked west, they knew it was a lost and abandoned boy answering Torka’s anguished cry of so long ago, when he had stood in the wind upon a distant mountain and had cried out to the forces of Creation to save the life spirit of his son. And now, at last, it was time to bring Manaravak home.
Torka, Simu, and Dak donned their traveling clothes, took up their spears, and were about to leave the cave when Lonit joined them.
“I will go!” she declared. “If my son is there, Torka, I want to be with you when you find him! Do not forbid me to come.”
He did not.
From the cave, a devastated Umak stood with his two older sisters and watched them go. “I was not asked.”
“No one was asked,” Summer Moon retorted. “Who knows what dangers they will find? The only reason Grek volunteered to stay behind with us is that he is slow and might turn out to be a hindrance instead of—“
“Grek stays behind to protect us in case we should have need of him! The only hindrance in this band is your mouth, Summer Moon!” Demmi snapped at her sister. She turned to her brother. “Torka didn’t mean the things he said.”
“Of course he meant them!” countered Summer Moon. “What a stupid thing to do ... to kill the black swans! Why didn’t you go after Life Giver while you were at it? Torka will never forgive you!”
“He will,” Demmi consoled.
“Why should he?” Umak glared straight ahead. “No matter what I do, it always ends up wrong in his eyes.”
At that moment lana came to place a loving hand upon Umak’s shoulder.
“You must go with your father, Umak.”
The boy looked at her, mouth set, eyes hard and accusing.
“Is he my father, lana?”
The woman’s expression changed. “In truth, Umak, sometimes I wonder. I was at your birth. You came first and hard—tearing your way into this world. Manaravak came much later—and gently, for he was so small that the midwife who took him said that he looked unready to be born, as though he had taken life within Lonit later than you. I do not know if it is possible for a woman to carry the sons of two different fathers within her belly at the same time. Sometimes, when I see you smile, I see the ghost of Navahk in your face. But who can say? That man is long dead. I do know that you are your mother’s firstborn son and that Torka has risked everything so that you might live and walk beside him as his own. If he questions the circumstances of your birth, he keeps those questions hidden. What more can you ask of him, you foolish boy? He is the only father you will ever know! You erred in judgment when you killed the swans—but you did it out of love, and when Torka’s anger cools, he will know this. So now I say to you, if you are Torka’s son, be his son! Do not allow the ghost of Navahk to have his way in this world as Karana has done. Put the shadows of the past behind you. They cannot hurt you, Umak, unless you let them! Go now, be a son to Torka. Help to bring your brother home.”
Circling birds led them to the place where Ekoh and Seteena had died. Nearby they found Honee in shock, huddled beside a rock. Lonit set down her spear and drew the frightened girl into a motherly embrace while Torka, Dak, and Simu formed a caring circle around her. In gasps and sputters, she told them what had happened.
“They took Bili and the beast boy to the camp of Cheanah. I thought Mano was going to kill him, but Yanehva threatened to bash in Mano’s head with his own spear if he tried. So in the end, they trussed the wild boy like a dead antelope, and Yanehva slung him across his shoulders. He was growling and snarling like an animal and he was very dirty, but he was a boy—a wild boy in the skin of a white lion. He had your face, Man of the West. And he was very brave.”
“The skin of a white lion?” Tears were streaming down Lonit’s cheeks. Torka’s heart broke to see the pain in her expression. “When the twins were born, I thought I would die of the unending pain. In my mind I became a wolf. A white lion rose within me, threatening, standing between me and my sons!”
“The people of Cheanah are wolves, but they will not kill the white lion.” The words startled her. They startled everyone.
Torka turned and saw that Umak had come over the rockfall to stand behind them. Aar was at his side. Torka’s eyes narrowed. Umak looked as though he had been physically pummeled; words had done that to him. Torka fiercely regretted that he had spoken so rashly.
Whatever doubts he might have about Umak’s birth, it was wrong to hold the boy responsible. Umak had not chosen the circumstances of his birth—no child could do that. And what about the lost twin? Might he not also be Navahk’s spawn?
The question ripped through him. He cursed it. All he could ever be sure of was that the force of Navahk’s power had twisted the spirit of Karana, driven him to lie, then driven him mad. Was he going to allow Navahk’s ghost to destroy Umak, too? No! He had taken Umak from his mother’s arms and defended his life against the people of Cheanah and the forces of Creation! He had raised the boy and loved him as a son. The boy was his—from this moment on, without question! “I am glad that you have come,” he told him, then added strongly: “Umak. My son.” Umak’s head went up defensively. “Truly?”
Honee looked around in the manner of a hunted animal. “We must go! Cheanah and his men will soon come over the mountain, marching the beast boy ahead of them. Mano said that because Torka will not want to see the boy die twice, he will let them come across the valley and into his cave.”
Torka scanned the heights and nodded. “Come, let us take Ekoh and Seteena to the overview of the valley, where they may lie upon the ridge together and look upon the sky forever. It is a good place. Their spirits will watch us as we go back to the cave and await the coming of the son of Zhoonali.”
“But Cheanah and his hunters will kill you!” cried Honee, terror sparkling in her black, bead like little eyes. “They have sworn it! They will kill you all, and then they will hunt and eat your totem. And as they feast upon its flesh and build feast fires with your bones, they will lie upon your women and girls and say that the forces of Creation have smiled upon them, for they will have taken back their luck from those who have stolen it!”
“We will see,” said Torka. “We will see.”
Cheanah stood tall, wearing the ragged skin of the white lion draped over his shoulders. The wild boy thrashed around at his feet, snarling and growling up at him.
“The pelt of the white lion is mine now, as I always swore it would be,” the headman said to the boy. “Whether you have killed it or found it dead somewhere does not matter. What ma
tters is that it is mine now. And when I have put you to my purpose, Manaravak, son of Torka, you too will die.”
Zhoonali came to stand beside him. “It is a spirit. Be wary of what you do with it. With my own hands I put that child to look upon the sky forever. It must be dead!”
Cheanah planted his booted foot on his captive’s throat and raised his spear. Slowly, he moved the projectile point downward from the boy’s chest to his belly, opening a long, shallow line of red. “That which bleeds can die.”
Her brow furrowed. “You are too bold these days, Cheanah.”
Cheanah nodded, eyeing Zhoonali thoughtfully. The years were beginning to tell upon her at last. “Have you not always taught me that risk is essential? That a headman must be bold if he is to keep his people’s respect and affection? Think of it, my mother: Torka’s cave, high and dry on a good, south-facing slope. Think how comfortable you would be there!”
Her lips twitched into a smile. “Yes. It will be a good thing. But it will also be dangerous.”
“She is right.” Yanehva eyed his father with disgust; it was clear from his expression that he considered the wild boy who thrashed and howled and strained against his tethers to be less bestial than the headman, who had enjoyed several ruts upon Bili since Mano had brought her dazed and battered back to camp. “Again I ask you to reconsider. Why must there be bloodshed among our two peoples? The valley that lies ahead is enormous, with game enough for all. Loose the boy. Clean him up a bit. Let us go peacefully into that fine valley and offer to hunt as brothers with Torka, with the past behind us. And as a gift of our good faith, this son of Torka’s, who is little more than an animal because of us.”
Mano came by, dragging Bili by her matted hair. He shoved her to the ground as he spoke to his brother with unconcealed contempt. “You have forgotten that this wild thing killed Buhl. And Honee has disappeared; no doubt the dark magic of Torka’s shaman has called her forth. His men are using her by now .. . like this.” He went down on Bili; she lay like a limp doll beneath him, staring ahead, motionless as he came to a quick release and stood up. There was blood on Mano’s organ as he dropped his tunic over it.
Yanehva frowned. “Every man in the camp has been on Bili again and again. You will kill her if you keep this up. Look at her eyes. They have no life in them. How will she bear children in the future if she is too badly torn?”
“That won’t matter,” Mano said. “There are better women in Torka’s camp. They will bear our children.”
Cheanah slung an arm around Mano’s shoulders with obvious affection.
“And soon we will pierce them all!”
“Look! The mammoths are leaving the valley!” Demmi called out, distraught.
“Yes, Daughter. And we must leave it, too.”
Torka’s words settled heavily.
Demmi did not understand. “But you have returned from the western range without our brother!”
“And without Karana!” added Summer Moon.
“We must leave,” he replied sternly. “Now. Enemies are coming toward us. They outnumber us two to one, and I will not risk losing control of this band to such as they, or risk any of our number to their spears. We must go. As Life Giver walks, so must the people who name him totem walk, into the face of the rising sun.”
Demmi glowered at her mother, unable to understand how Lonit could leave now, when she knew at last that Manaravak was alive.
As Grek stood looking at his beloved old Wallah, his big face sagged with worry. “This has been a good camp for us. It could be defended....”
“Bah!” To everyone’s surprise, Wallah was on her foot, leaning on fine new crutches, which Umak had made for her. “Sadness lives in this camp now. Our Mahnie’s life spirit will walk with us wherever we go, for she lives in our hearts and in our memories. And Naya has yet to walk free across the open steppe and beneath the open sky. Too much do you worry about this old woman, old man! If Torka says we must go, then we must go! Never has he led us wrongly. This woman does not question. Nor should you.”
Grek was dumbfounded. “But the way ahead may be long, too much up and down for a one-legged woman!”
She gestured broadly toward her bed furs. “I have both my legs! What is the difference if I walk on one and carry the other?” For the first time since Torka’s denouncement of his gifts, Umak was happy. They were actually going! They were going and leaving Manaravak behind.
For days now, Karana had lingered around the pit into which the beast had fallen. Before that, he had watched it all: the murder of Ekoh and Seteena, the rape of Bili, the bold and magnificently selfless attack by Manaravak. He had watched but had done nothing. When they had knocked Manaravak down, he had thought, Good, they have killed him! And when they had carried him off, he had thought, Now he will never come back! Then he had been drawn by the wanawut’s screams and moans. When he had seen it—gray and furred and hideous—he had taken up a stone and had
poised himself, ready for the kill. He had set the snares and dug these pits so he could kill the beast, the child of Navahk and the wanawut .. . his sister! The haunting that had driven him slowly and undeniably insane.
But as he had looked down into the pit, with the heavy stone in his fist, poised to be hurled against the creature’s head, she looked up at him out of fevered, pain-racked, mist-gray eyes. She raised a hand and feebly gestured to him as she mewed softly, like a dying friend sighing in relief as it sighted a long-lost, beloved companion. “Man a ... ra ... vak?” The beast spoke! The beast was not a beast! The rock fell from his limp hand as he stood, slack jawed, staring into the pit. If Navahk had been her sire, none of his spirit lived within her. Her eyes were open and guileless and full of love for him, and as he looked into them, his mind was swept clean of madness as though a cool and loving hand had soothed his furrowed brow.
Karana wept as he climbed down into the pit. He sobbed and stood still as her long, softly furred arm lifted, and a huge, clawed, grotesquely human hand touched his mouth and drifted adoringly across his face. The long mouth of the beast turned downward, and then, with great effort, it turned upward and twitched at the corners into a smile of such unquestioning love and radiance that Karana drew the creature close. She gasped as her body was drawn upward over the bone stakes. She shivered, then relaxed as he cradled her, whispering in her ear and soothing the beast with his embrace. He rocked his sister in his arms until she died, and as she died, his madness died with her. And in the arms of the wanawut, Karana was reborn.
The people of Torka left the cave. They walked in silence, dogs loaded with packs, children running ahead and calling out as though it were all a wonderful game.
Summer Moon kicked at stones and clumps of grass. “It was wrong to leave Karana. He is our brother, our magic man.”
“Torka is magic man enough for us,” Lonit reprimanded her daughter, but there was sadness and unmistakable tension in her voice.
They walked for many miles, stopping at their various cache pits and withdrawing from them the best of their stores.
“We will leave nothing for the people of Cheanah,” Torka vowed, and although this meant that their loads became heavier, their hearts became lighter as the men of the band urinated upon what was left in the pits.
After two days, they reached the far side of the valley and the neck of the pass. As they looked back a rain of meteors streaked across the sky.
Torka looked up. He has seen so many shooting stars since the red star had appeared, it troubled him. He put his hand on Umak’s shoulder. “The way ahead will be long and new. Many unknown dangers lie ahead.”
“Life Giver walks ahead of us. I am not afraid!” the boy replied.
“A wise man lives with fear as though it were his second skin, my son. Only through fear does a man learn caution, and only a cautious man may hope to survive. You are a man now, Umak—both you and Dak—and I will count on you in the days ahead to stand with Grek and Simu as you follow Life Giver into the face of the rising s
un, seeking new hunting grounds for our women and children.”
Demmi’s eyes went wide. What was her father saying?
It was Grek who” asked. “Proud will this man be to walk at the head of Torka’s people with Simu and Dak and Umak. But where will Torka be?”
“I must seek the one who was abandoned and who lives.”
“Why should you risk yourself for him when you would not do as much for Karana?” Summer Moon asked petulantly.
“Karana has chosen the way of a solitary. He will live or die according to his own will. Manaravak is but a boy, and he is my son. I will not abandon him to those who will surely kill him when they discover that we have gone. And so in the days that follow, this band must be strong. If I do not return, you—Grek, Simu, Dak, and Umak—must lead our people. The spirits have been warning me for many moons that it was time to leave the valley. I should have put my faith in my own instincts long ago, not in the word of Navahk’s shaman son.
If it is the will of the spirits,
I will find Manaravak and follow you with him. If it is not their will, then you will be safe—and my son who has lived alone will, at least, not die alone.”
“No!” cried Lonit. “We will go together. lana, Summer Moon, and Demmi can look after Swan. Umak is grown. They will be safe with the band. But I must be at your side, my love, always and—“
“No!” He stopped her. “Not this time. If you were at my side, my concern for you would put us both at risk. Knowing that you wait for me will strengthen me—as your presence will strengthen our people. You are the first woman of this band, the mother of Torka’s children and generations to come. If the spirits do not allow me to return to you with our son .. He stopped and looked at Umak, then smiled. “With our lost son,” he corrected himself. “And now to Umak, firstborn son of Torka and Lonit, the twin brother of Manaravak, I put this in trust.”
