by Hannah Ross
“The comparison isn’t fair. I’ve been in training since I was a boy little older than Egan. We’ll train together more often, and you’ll see how you improve.”
The others caught up with them, and they started picking up the kill. “Five,” Ne Tarveg said, counting the birds. “We could easily have had ten times that much – especially on the first hunt, when we hadn’t been to the bay for months. I have never seen penguins so wary. It’s almost as if there are other hunters who had startled them many times before.”
“But that is impossible,” Scott said. “The laws of my people prohibit hunting anywhere in Antarctica.” He had a fleeting moment of doubt, though. The Russians? Could it be possible? But no, it didn’t make sense. The Russians have been negotiating with the international community for the right to resume commercial whaling in Antarctica, but penguins? It would be small game to them.
“Maybe the seals have hunted down more penguins than usual,” Scott suggested.
Omrek looked around. “I don’t see any seals in the area at all,” he said. “Unless,” he squinted into the distance, “it’s on that ice cap way out there. But this makes no sense, Scott. Why would there suddenly be more seals? Or why would they be greedier than usual?”
“They might go after penguins more if the fish have dwindled for some reason,” Ne Tarveg said.
“We’ll throw in a few nets. Then we can see if it’s true.”
But the nets they drew into the sea, though very near the shore – for they had no boats – came out reasonably full.
“I don’t understand,” Rayven shrugged. “But at least we won’t be coming home empty-handed.”
“Five penguins and some fish,” Ne Tarveg scowled. “This isn’t a very auspicious beginning of the season.”
Suddenly, a dark shadow fell over the bay, appearing and moving much faster than if it had been cast by a cloud. Scott looked up, and with a great jolt of heart and nerves saw the huge winged form soaring above him once again, spiraling in circles that became narrower and narrower as it lowered itself closer to the ground. The beast gave a shriek, a snarl, and this time there could be no mistake: it was the call of a hunter, and they were the prey.
“It is the curse,” Rayven, white as death, whispered, staring at the sky with his eyes nearly popping out of his face. “The ancient curse – it has come to devour us!”
Scott shook the young man roughly by the arm. “Don’t waste your time!” he called, switching to English in his agitation. “Run for cover!”
The group made for a little seaside cave which they knew well – they often rested here after the hunt, and sometimes, when the bounty was too plentiful to carry home at once, they stored it here and blocked the narrow entrance to the cave with large stones. Now all the hunters were crammed in, the ones at the back pressed tightly against the cave wall. The others were feverishly picking up rocks and piling them against the entrance, until almost all daylight was blocked. It was not a moment too soon, either – the snarl of the winged reptile sounded quite near, sending shivers down Scott’s spine. They heard it sniffing around, then beginning to scratch at the rocks. Scott, Omrek, Ne Tarveg, and several others strained to hold the rocks in place. Hopefully, even if the pile collapsed, the beast wouldn’t be able to maneuver its neck in the narrow opening, but they were still keen to avoid any close proximity with its deadly jaws. Meanwhile, the other hunters kept their spears and bows poised and ready.
For a short, impossibly tense spell, nobody spoke or move. They scarcely breathed, willing the monster to move on. Finally, they heard its crunching footfalls get further away. Peeking through a crack in the rocks, Scott saw it take off and fly up and away, high above the ocean.
“It’s alright!” he called to the others. “It’s gone! We can come out!”
They hastened to pick that day’s kill, and the fishing nets, and headed inland as fast as they could. Only when the bay was out of sight did Ne Tarveg stop to tighten the strings of his parka. He issued a few smothered curses. “To think that the bay is full of game, and that beast should go after us!”
“That’s it,” Scott suddenly understood. “It’s probably because of the winged…” he wanted to say ‘dinosaur’, stumbled, and used the Anai word for ‘lizard’ instead. “It’s probably because of the winged lizard that there are hardly any seals in the bay, and the penguins are so wary. It has probably been hunting mercilessly, and if there are several of them… I’ll bet anything they eat a lot.”
Ne Tarveg and several others looked at him, very somber. “So you’re saying this thrice-damned monster is killing our game!” Ne Tarveg exclaimed in outrage.
“It certainly seems so.”
“Tahan needs to know about this,” Omrek said. “Let’s head home as quick as we can.”
“Sure. It’s not like we have too much weight to carry,” Ne Tarveg said in caustic tones. “I tell you, if the winged beasts are encroaching on our hunting places, this is going to be one lean season.”
As disappointing and worrisome as this was, something even worse was yet in store for them on their way back. When they were already about halfway to the village, a strange sound, a kind of an eerie, shrill call, prompted them to look up, and Scott nearly froze in place. A winged form of a great flying reptile could be seen above once again, but it was different. It was slightly shorter and narrower in body than the first one, its tail was longer, and it was close enough to notice its hue was different – its scales had a glistening greyish-green sheen.
“Spirits above and below, it’s another one!” Rayven called out. “Run!”
“Wait, Rayven. I don’t think it noticed us yet – get here, into this crevice between the rocks –“
“If it noticed us,” Omrek said darkly, “we must not go on until we shake it off. We don’t want to lead it to the village.”
The impact of these words sank in at once. The creatures could cover the area just as well as helicopters. Getting over to the valley and its settlement would pose no problem for them. In fact, it was probably just a matter of time.
Mercifully, the second winged beast did not seem to notice them at all. It made a random circle and flew back in the opposite direction. The hunters went on, and reached the village uneventfully. Once there, however, they were met by a great commotion.
Several women were hurrying somewhere, carrying bundles of soft hides. Tahan was among them, Niri strapped to her stomach by a carrier made of fine pliable sealskin. “Finally!” she cried out when she saw the hunters. “Omrek, it is Manari’s time – the baby will be here soon!”
Forgetting all about the unsatisfactory hunt, the flying reptiles, and the looming danger, Omrek cast his traveling sack aside and ran in the direction of his house. Scott hastened to keep up with Omrek, who was closely followed by Tahan.
“When?” Omrek was panting. “When did it start?”
“A few hours ago. She is getting on pretty well, you have no reason to worry. Several women are tending her.”
Scott knew all too well how useless such reassurances were. “Come over to our house,” he told his brother-in-law, “and let’s have a drink.”
“That’s the best you can do,” Tahan nodded. “There is a good stew ready, and someone needs to look after Egan.” She stopped for a moment, and briefly put her cheek against Scott’s – the Anai equivalent of a kiss. He pressed his lips to the soft warm skin. “I hope all goes well,” he murmured. A reassuring squeeze of her hand was the answer, and Tahan was on her way with the women once more.
“Come,” he said, laying a hand on his brother-in-law’s arm. “Let’s go home. Egan must be waiting.”
The boy was outside, on the edge of the newly sown field of grain, making an elaborate construction from sticks and mud. Upon seeing his stepfather and uncle, he jumped up and ran to them with an eager face. “What did you bring from the hunt?” he asked.
“Nothing much this time, Egan,” Scott said. “There wasn’t much, so I gave our share to the other
families. We still have plenty stored.” He knew that was how Tahan would have wished it. I only hope, at this rate, that our stores will last until the next successful hunt.
Some of their food was stored in the house, dried or salted, but most of their provisions were put up in the Freezing Holes at the side of the valley, where there was a small area devoid of the geysers’ warmth. There it was permafrost, and temperatures were well below freezing point year-round. The area served as a sort of communal freezer for the Anai. There, holes or deep shelves were dug in the ice, each family knowing the exact place of its own, and stuffed with slabs of frozen meat. The opening of each storage pit was blocked with rocks against the little meat-eaters, resembling weasel or mink, which were unique to the valley. It was a simple and ingenious solution to keeping food fresh for lengthy periods.
Omrek paced back and forth, from the entrance to the back wall. “Why don’t you sit down for a bit?” Scott said. He walked over to a skin hanging from a wall peg and poured some of the liquid into a cup. A slightly sour, grassy smell filled the hut. It was the traditional Anai drink, made from fermented grass. He offered the cup to Omrek, but his brother-in-law shook his head.
“Relax, Omrek. You won’t help Manari by fretting.”
Omrek got up to his feet again, though, and paced once more. “This is driving me insane. I must know how she is.”
“I’m sure Tahan will send us word as soon as there’s something to tell.”
Not that long ago, Scott recalled, Omrek was the one to try and get him to calm down when Tahan had gone into labor with Niri.
Omrek let out a long breath. “I know you’re right, but sitting here is more than I can bear. I must have something to do.”
“Come on out. You can help me repair our fowl enclosure.” The Anai valley boasted of one species of native edible waterfowl, which formed a staple of the native diet. A strange-looking bird, with the appearance of something between a duck and a penguin, it was delicious roasted in a hot stone pit. “You can come and help too, Egan.” The boy followed the two men, skipping on one foot.
Mercifully, Omrek’s tension was short-lived. Just after they had repaired the enclosure and had a light meal, they heard the sound of rushing footsteps, and Omrek, in his impatience, darted towards the entrance flap and pulled it open.
The messenger was a skinny slip of a girl, thirteen or fourteen years old, one of Manari’s numerous nieces. She was flushed from running, and there was a huge grin on her face. “It is over, Ri Omrek!” she called as she advanced. “Aunt Manari has given you a son!”
Without waiting for anyone, Omrek flung his bowl and spoon away, and ran off. The girl followed. “Let’s go too, Egan,” Scott said, hoisting the boy up on his shoulders. “We’ll probably meet your mother on the way.”
But Tahan was still in her brother’s house, tending to her sister-in-law and making her comfortable. One of the other women admitted Scott in, and he edged past the entrance flap.
A brazier was burning brightly, and Manari was snug in the furs, holding her baby to her breast. Omrek was kneeling by her side, beaming with joy. Two women were busy folding the birthing blanket and cleaning up. Niri was sound asleep in the crib Omrek had made for the new baby.
Scott let Egan down, and he ran over to his mother. Taking him by the hand, Tahan approached and leaned on her husband’s chest. She looked tired but satisfied. Omrek looked up.
“Thank you, Tahan, for everything,” he said warmly.
“I didn’t do much, Omrek. Manari did very well. She was fortunate to have such an easy first birth. The next one is sure to be even quicker.”
“Come, Tahan,” Scott said. “I’m taking you home. You could use some rest.” He picked up Niri, careful so as not to wake her, and they were on their way.
The sky dimmed slightly as they were walking home – the feeble trace of night that soon would be gone as well as the season advanced – and Egan covered his mouth, stifling a yawn.
“You’re going to bed as soon as we come home, young man,” Tahan declared, undeceived. “And I as well. It has been a long day… I didn’t even have the chance to ask you about the hunt yet,” she looked at Scott.
He cleared his throat, feeling uncomfortable. He would have to confess the truth now, he knew. Once the children were tucked in, and he and Tahan remained sitting by the brazier, sharing a cup of hot herbal tea, he broached the subject.
“We didn’t bring much back today,” he said.
“Well, no matter,” she said. “You’re sure to be luckier next time. And there’s plenty of food in storage.”
“It’s… I’m afraid it’s more than that, Tahan,” he said. Then he recounted all that had happened during the hunting trip, as succinctly as possible.
In the near darkness, he saw the dim flame of the oil lamp sway ever so slightly in her wide-open eyes. She was silent for a long time. “I was afraid, for a long time, that this might happen. It’s almost good to know for sure.”
“They have chosen the bay as their hunting place. If we don’t manage to drive them away somehow, it will be no longer safe to go there.”
“I fear something worse, Scott. What if they go for the village?”
“You fear they could come here… to the valley?”
“What is there to stop them? They had lived here before the First Anai came to the Frozen Land. What if they remember it, at least on some level? What if they are attracted by the warmth and shelter of the valley? They might come, and we must be prepared.”
“Can’t we drive them away somehow? From the valley… from the bay, too. There must be a solution.” Scott lapsed into thought. “I think it’s time for me to go to McMurdo again.”
“Why?” Tahan said quickly. “I don’t like you to go away at such a time, Scott. Certainly not by yourself.”
“I won’t snowmobile. A helicopter is due here at the base in a few days. It can take me back to McMurdo.”
“You think they might help us?”
“They have all sorts of… equipment, Tahan. At the very least, they can try to trace the beasts, see where their lair is. Maybe how many there are. Dr. Geels has been talking of such an expedition for a while now. It might help us see what we had best do.”
“We can’t wait, though. We must protect ourselves.” Restless, Tahan sat up and pushed her tangled hair out of her face. “We can’t be careless, not with flying monsters that might swoop down from the sky any moment. It’s a pity everybody’s asleep now, I’d like to speak with the elders. Do you think Ne Riorag will mind if I wake him?”
“There’s no need to, Tahan,” Scott said, squeezing her arm reassuringly. “Everybody’s in the houses now, resting. You can call a meeting of the elders and head hunters after the village wakes. For now, let us rest. Aren’t you tired?”
She gave him a coy smile as she slipped back under the covers next to him. “Yes. But somehow, I’m not feeling very sleepy just yet.”
With a low, playful growl, Scott pulled her close and nibbled on an earlobe. “Me neither. Actually, I’m kind of hungry.”
Tahan wore nothing but a soft, short sleeping garment made of the fabric the Anai weaved from summer grass. She shrugged it off and pressed against him, into the snug and warm space of his chest and arms.
“I haven’t had you to myself for a long while,” he said in a low voice. “Too long.”
She giggled playfully. “You have me to yourself every night.”
“Not in peace and quiet. I can hardly believe the baby’s sound asleep. We must make the most of it,” his lips trailed down her neck and to her shoulder. She was warm, delicious, enticing, yet he felt a slight stiffness in her muscles.
“It will be fine. It will all work out. We will be safe,” he promised.
And Tahan yielded, pressing her lips against his and losing herself in the joy of the moment.
After they woke and had their morning meal, they took the children and walked out of the house. Rather than call an elders’ meeti
ng, Tahan decided it would be better to make the announcement in front of the entire village. “This concerns everybody, Scott,” she said, “and everybody must know.”
At her bidding, messengers ran to all corners of the settlement, calling everyone to the central area where all celebrations and events of importance were traditionally held. “People of the Anai,” Tahan called out, climbing upon a boulder, “I have called you here to make an announcement – to tell grave news that some of you might already know.”
A wave of murmuring swept through the crowd. Some people were nodding, others frowning. The elder Ne Riorag, who stood not far from her, raised his arm. “Quiet!” he called. “Let Ki Tahan speak.”
“You have all heard about the wall of ice that melted, releasing one of the flying beasts our forefathers battled against when they first came to this valley. It was alive. It flew away, not before snatching up a man, an evil man who was our enemy. So far, it was the Hand of the Spirit, and we were grateful. But not long ago, the flying beasts were sighted once more. And that is not all – the hunting party was attacked during their last journey to the bay. They barely escaped, and they tell that they saw at least two of the monsters. Also that the beasts are probably the reason why the game is dwindling.”
There was a buzz of talking, and some let out exclamations of dejection.
“We will not despair. The valley is our home, and the sea has nourished us since the times of the First Anai. But we must be more vigilant than usual. Hereby I am giving orders to guard the village. Craftsmen, you are to make more weapons, more powerful and accurate long-range bows. There will be a watch at all hours, in shifts, so that the burden does not fall too heavily upon anyone. Nobody is to venture too far from the village without a long-range bow or throw-spear. We hope the threat comes to nothing, but if the beasts dare to come here, they will not find us defenseless prey. Do you agree, people of the Anai?”
Cheers and calls of approval followed Tahan’s words. Not far from his father, Ne Tarveg stood with a spear in hand, nodding grimly. “We will be ready,” he said, “come what may.”
