Broken Rock Bay (Clan of the Ice Mountains Book 3)

by C. S. Bills

  Attu stood listening to the roll of the waves and smelling the unique blend of ocean air and wood smoke that had become so familiar since coming off the Expanse. Then he turned and walked back to sit beside Rika and listen to the conversation around him again. He found himself drifting off. It had been a long day and he was tired...

  “The bird means something else, Attu. Something new, something connected to Kinak’s death,” Meavu spoke near him.

  Attu flinched. He hadn’t realized his sister had moved to sit on his other side.

  “Mighty hunter, always aware and ready,” Meavu teased.

  Attu, now fully awake again, gave Meavu his best scowl. As usual, it had no effect on his sister.

  “I’ve spoken with Mother and with Farnook,” Meavu said. “They agree. I didn’t get a chance to talk to Rika. Ask her. I think she’ll say both of you must pray to the spirits to dream, to See what it all means.”

  “Farnook is asking to dream?” Attu wanted to make sure he understood what Meavu was saying. It was still hard, sometimes, to take what she said as the serious Gift of a woman grown, and not just something his little sister was playing at. Will I always think of her as my little Kip? Maybe not after our baby brother or sister comes.

  Attu glanced at his mother. Yural nodded her head, knowing what Meavu was telling him.

  “Talk to Rika, and pray to dream. It’s important.”

  Chapter 3

  The dream did not come for two nights. But on the third, Attu was in the Between of deep sleep when the world spiraled up and away from him. He was with the bird, the falcon, was somehow the bird itself, and he knew he was flying swiftly back to where they’d come from. He looked down and saw a broad winding river weaving its way through rolling hills and a narrow stretch of mountains. Open grassland came into view again.

  Occasionally, the bird focused on the edge of the river, on the rocks near the trees. Through the bird’s eyes, Attu could see the smallest details, the contour of every rock, the stem and leaves of each small plant struggling to grow between the rocks amid the river’s graveled shoreline.

  And just as quickly, the bird could broaden its gaze to the horizon, and even at such a vast distance, Attu could see details there: a tree against the sky, a herd of tuskies on the move. Attu marveled at his new sight.

  For a time, he reveled in the movement of flight, in the ease of holding himself up in the air, invisible currents uplifting him like waves upon the water. They flowed over the sky like a skin boat over those waves, the falcon and Attu within the falcon. Warm sun felt good on his muscles, his heart beat a rhythm much faster than he was used to, but it was right, as his blood and the falcon’s coursed through their body and powered their strong wings.

  Attu the falcon felt himself making tiny adjustments to keep his balance and to fly straight using a part of his body for which he had no name. Then Attu within realized what it was. He had a tail, and it was acting like a paddle in the water at the rear end of his skin boat, steering him along in the sky. He knew the part of him that was falcon didn’t seem to think about these motions at all. Its tail and wings, its balance, its flying, all were a natural part of the bird’s being. Attu the falcon let himself go then, and just flew. He was the falcon, and they were rulers of the unseen currents of the sky, using them to power themselves onward, so high above the ground, so high...

  Then his bird-self was diving, and Attu’s mind reeled. Faster and faster they went, spiraling down toward land. Attu tried to cry out, but he screeched instead, a high piercing call that echoed among the rocks below.

  He saw it, the large rock rat the size of a small rabbit, their prey. The speed and pressure of their dive no longer frightened him. Attu within the falcon was Attu the hunter, and his reflexes were lightning-quick. Together they could maneuver at this tremendous speed and knew just how to take this animal among these treacherous rocks beside the moving water.

  Everything around them slowed. The falcon and Attu within the falcon saw it all: the sparkling water and each small ripple along the river’s edge as they rushed past. They saw each rock: the texture of it, the small clumps of moss growing on the rocks, the tiny moss stalks waving in the blast of air from their wings. They saw the fur on the rock rat, saw it flatten as the creature reflexively lowered itself, too late, and in the last moment before they scooped the animal up, Attu within saw in its eye a reflection of a huge bird reaching out with wicked claws.

  Attu the falcon felt the rush of triumph as his talons struck, killing the rock rat instantly. Attu felt his muscles pulling, burning as the falcon struggled to gain height with the added weight of the animal in its claws. It landed near the top of a dead tree.

  The bird ripped the rock rat into shreds, gulping down the meat by throwing its head back and taking great swallows, its throat stretching, its whole body jerking with the effort. Attu the falcon relished in the meat also, in the warm blood running down his throat, in the smell and the taste.

  But before the rock rat was totally devoured, the falcon stopped eating and let the rest of the carcass fall to the ground far below. Attu within the falcon looked longingly down at it. But before he could even form the question of why the bird had not eaten its fill, a thought appeared in his mind.

  Just enough to give strength, never enough to hamper flight. Then Attu within understood. He accepted this wisdom from the falcon as if it were something he had always known.

  They rested there for a while, Attu within the falcon, and the falcon itself. It was the right thing to do, and Attu realized that as time passed, he seemed to be blending with the bird more and more. The falcon’s mind no longer felt alien to him, but as if it were an extension of his own mind.

  Or is mine an extension of the bird’s?

  It didn’t seem to matter except for a small voice inside the part of him that was still Attu, or at least he thought of it as Attu. It kept warning him that this was not good, this oneness with the falcon he was feeling. But it was a very small voice. Attu ignored its whispering.

  Why would anyone want to stop being a falcon?

  The bird took flight again, and they flew up to where the air currents let them float along, strong wings keeping them moving forward, wind streaming through their feathers, delighting them both with the feeling of the air rushing past.

  Attu did not know how long they flew.

  Has it been a moment?

  I can fly forever, the falcon boasted.

  What difference does it make to know how long we’ve been flying? Attu within thought.

  He flew on.

  Attu saw grass below him now and realized he had been descending. He could make out man shapes clustered around large pieces of hide strapped to dead trees. Smoke drifted up from several fires. It stung his eyes. The falcon knew it was not safe to come too near these objects, and Attu within agreed, especially the fire, which frightened him with its glowing heat and acrid smoke. Attu seemed to remember another time when a fire had frightened him... but now he saw it as dangerous in a new way, rising with tricky thermals that could not be trusted to hold him up.

  The falcon was looking for something, someone, and Attu within felt the urge to search as well. Who they were searching for came clear to him when they saw her, standing far away from the rest, her eyes uplifted to the sky as if expecting the falcon. Attu knew it was right to fly to her.

  Attu the falcon fell from the sky, halting just above this woman, this special one, and landing gently on her outstretched arm, which was covered in tough hide. So my sharp talons, he found himself thinking with intense pride, do no harm to She Who Speaks With Us.

  Attu tensed his talons against the woman’s arm to keep his balance. He felt her stroking his head gently and murmuring softly to him, but for some reason, he couldn’t understand her words.

  He turned his head and met her gaze. The woman’s eyes widened in disbelief as she recognized Attu within the falcon looking back at her.

  It was Keanu, the Seer woman who co
uld See through animals. “No!” she cried.

  Attu felt himself falling as if flung from a cliff, thrown down beside Keanu. His mind reeled, but he struggled to keep his eyes open, to focus. Keanu was now standing in front of him holding the falcon. Attu realized he was no longer the bird. Instead, he was lying in a heap on the warm grass-covered earth beside her. Intense longing to be the bird once again shot through Attu like a spear, and he groaned with the pain of it. He tried to stand, but couldn’t because his arms and legs wouldn’t work right. They were too large, too awkward, and he fell back to his knees every time he tried to get up. Finally, Keanu reached out her free hand, and Attu grasped it and used her leverage to regain his balance.

  “What were you doing?” Keanu asked, her voice fierce as she glared at him. “Don’t you know how dangerous it is to blend minds and fly within a bird, even in your dreaming?”

  Attu awoke covered in sweat and shaking. As he thought of the dream, of the flying, his heart ached with yearning to be the falcon again. The need was so intense it terrified him.

  He considered waking Rika, but she was sleeping soundly, and he knew she’d been exhausted that evening. And what would I tell her? That Keanu came to me in a dream and was angry with me for becoming the falcon? I didn’t do anything. It just happened. Keanu’s the one who can become one with the animals and birds. Not me.

  Attu decided he’d wait until next sun before telling Rika what had happened. Having made his decision, Attu felt better, but long into the night he lay awake, silently fighting the desire to dream again, his hands clenched at his sides. Just before dawn, Attu lost the battle and fell asleep, but this time it was the sleep of exhaustion and he did not dream.

  “Rika, I need to tell you something,” Attu began as they sat in their shelter the next morning, eating. It was raining, and Rika had used the small fire to heat up a beverage and some meat from the night before. “Last night I–”

  The flap on their shelter opened without warning to reveal Farnook, her hair wet and clinging to her face in tendrils, her hands trembling as she clung to the flap as if for support. “Rika,” she said. “We need you.”

  “What?” Rika rose in alarm, automatically reaching for her potions bag. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” Farnook looked to Attu, her face grave. “It’s Yural.”

  Yural was sitting up in her shelter when Rika and Attu entered, Ubantu hovering at her side.

  “I’m fine,” she insisted when Rika questioned her about the cramping she’d been having. “I told Ubantu that I had this same problem with Meavu when she was growing within, but I never said anything about it to him. I wish I hadn’t said anything this time, either. He told Farnook, and now look what it has caused.” She spread her hands to include them all. “You’re all worried when there is no reason to be.”

  “Mother, shouldn’t Rika examine you?”

  “No,” Yural said.

  “Yes,” Ubantu said.

  “You men leave us women to talk,” Rika said. “And,” she added when Ubantu opened his mouth to protest, “if Yural needs me to examine her, I will.”

  “But–” Yural began.

  “Hush,” Rika said. “I am your daughter now, but I’m also your healer. We will do as I say about this matter.” She looked up at Attu and Ubantu, still standing there and making no move to leave. “Out!”

  “Yural has assured me that she had cramping on and off the entire time she was growing Meavu within,” Rika reassured Attu a while later. “She says it never became severe, and everything turned out fine.” Rika slipped the last of her potions back into her waterproof skin for traveling.

  “So you think she’ll be all right?” Attu asked. “She is nearing the end of her time to bear children...”

  “I know. And that has me worried, whatever she says about how things went for her before. I will keep a close eye on her.” Rika tied the skin closed. “And I’ve told Ubantu to watch for signs that she might be hiding her symptoms. You know your mother, Attu. She’s always ready to lead our Clan in the ways of the spirits, but wants no one to fuss over her.”

  Ubantu spotted the potential resting place first. “There! Look there!” Yural had insisted that she was good to travel, and the Clan had made progress once they were on the water.

  At first Attu didn’t see what Ubantu had seen, but as they paddled closer, a tree-covered rocky peninsula curving out into the surf came into view, with a river to its south and a sand beach in between rising to a safe height above the high water mark.

  Most of the shoreline they’d been following for the last few days had been rocky, and some days the Clan had been hard pressed to find any place they could beach the skin boats at the end of the day. Some nights they’d made shelters that barely clung to the few flat rocks they could find, and once they’d had to lift the skin boats out of the water over sharp rocks at the shore to a gravel beach. It was an arduous task of unloading and reloading, taxing the last of the hunters’ strength at the end of a long day of paddling.

  As they approached this inlet, all could see the area wasn’t too rocky at the shoreline, and it had a safe landing area for the skin boats. The beach was above the high tide mark, large and flat, ideal for shelters.

  Both men and women called out in triumph at Ubantu’s find. Their ululation cry rose up and dissolved into shouts and laughter as the small children leaped from the skin boats and splashed through the water to the beach, to run and play.

  Yural splashed Ubantu, and the next thing Attu knew, Rika smacked her paddle down on the water, covering him in spray as he was pulling their skin boat to shore. The nearby hunters hooted at her boldness as Attu pushed the skin boat back out into the water, a wicked gleam in his eye.

  “Don’t you dare,” Rika warned, paddle at the ready to splash him again. But Attu leaped forward and grabbed it, tossing the paddle up on the shore with one hand as he reached for her with the other.

  “No,” Rika squealed as Attu lifted her up out of the front of their skin boat and carried her toward the deeper water.

  Meavu and Yural laughed along with the rest of the women as Rika pummeled Attu with her small fists. He ignored her, and as the water rose to his waist, he tossed his woman in.

  The Clan roared with laughter and soon most of the women and many of the children were being carried out and tossed into the ocean. It was warm in this sheltered area, and for a time they swam and enjoyed the heat of the sun and water in this place.

  But much work still needed to be done before nightfall, even though the evenings were long and the darkness short this far north in the warmth of the Nuvik summer. Reluctantly, the hunters and their women left the water and began unpacking the shelters and carrying them up to the high beach, leaving just the smallest children to play beside the ocean with the few older girls to watch over them. The boys pulled out their fishing gear and moved to the side of the boats to begin catching the Clan’s dinner.

  Shelters were erected. Hide ropes were strung between the pines and wet garments flapped in the late afternoon breeze. The sleeping areas were readied and shallow fire pits for cooking were dug.

  “Come bathe with us,” Meavu and Farnook called as they passed Attu and Rika’s shelter with the other women.

  Rika grabbed up her small pouch of supplies and headed out to walk up the river with the others to a place where they could all wash the salt from their hair and skin.

  “I was wondering about one of the signs you said to watch for, that birth is going to happen soon,” Attu heard Meavu asking Rika as the women walked away. “Is it...” Then the women were too far away for Attu to hear the rest.

  Our women are changing, Attu realized as he watched them go, walking arm in arm toward the river. Rika and the others were growing wider in their hips and softer and larger in their breasts and abdomens. None, however, seemed as changed to him as Rika herself. Already her abdomen was bulging, and she carried herself more slowly, as if the weight of the young one within her
was making her weary, even though she was only half way through her time, according to their calculations.

  Attu watched the women until they disappeared around the first bend in the river. Then he turned away. He needed to finish storing their skin boat and supplies above the high water at the edge of the beach nearest the trees. He clasped his spirit necklace and prayed as he walked. Attuanin, protect the woman of my heart. Protect our child within her. Please honor your blessing with safety for all the women of our Clan as they carry our children, your children, to the place we will soon call home.

  “She was the only Raven who didn’t seem to despise me,” Farnook said a while later as the women returned from their baths.

  “The river is not too cold, and there is soap plant growing along the bank near where we were bathing,” Rika said to him as she saw Attu standing by their shelter. “Your mother joined us. She’s doing fine.” Rika sat her bathing supplies down. “We were just talking about the woman who told Farnook about Tuunti.”

  Rika added a log to the outdoor cooking fire and sat, brushing her hair with her fingers in the warmth. “Farnook says they often spoke, and she learned many things about the Ravens from this woman.” She motioned for Farnook to sit awhile. Farnook sat and began braiding her still-damp hair as she continued her story.

  “Her name was Caanti, and I think she was the youngest of the bonded women in the Raven Clan,” Farnook said. “Because she had no children, her man had taken another woman, which shamed Caanti in the Clan. This second woman had given birth to two sons. His second woman mistreated Caanti, and her man just laughed about it. As the moons passed and Caanti bore no children, she fell lower and lower in the eyes of the other women until she was treated little better than I was.

  “The other women often made her go out for wood or to gather with me, which was humiliating for her. At first Caanti was angry at me and afraid because she was supposed to guard me when we went out into the forest, and she feared I would run away and she’d be beaten for it. But I told her, where would I go?” Farnook gazed into the fire for a moment before continuing. “Eventually, we became friends, but of course we had to keep it secret. When we were alone, she told me about her people, and she taught me to speak much of her tongue. That way we could whisper to each other, and most of the other women wouldn’t know what we were saying.”