“Must it be an animal?” she asked, uncertainly.
Her voice was barely audible. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. That she didn’t belong here. Though she was awed by the shaman, she was already doubting that the angakuk could help her. The old woman’s magic belonged to the Inuit. Dana was a stranger and not of the People.
“The spirit of an animal is in everything you seek,” the shaman said sternly. “If you cannot see this, you are blind. You will never find what you are looking for.”
Dana blanched at the reprimand. She felt cornered. Apparently the angakuk wasn’t going to let her off easily, stranger or no. Dana thought back over her quest. The angakuk was right, many animals were involved! The wolf that both she and Jean were kin to; the ravens who were Grandfather and Roy; the deer she had chased in the Medicine Lodge; the throng of caribou that showed her the secret language; the Cailleach who was a cormorant and her sister, the crane; the whales in the sea … Were there others? She was still reviewing her mission, when she found herself staring at the shaman’s feathered cloak. Of course! It was like a burst of light in her head. There was one creature who had followed her throughout the quest, whose role eluded her, who seemed to convey some hidden significance she couldn’t fathom.
“The white birds!” she cried. “The soul-birds! They keep showing up, but I don’t know what they mean.”
The angakuk cackled with glee and rubbed her hands. “You are not so blind after all. I will go to Adlivun. I will ask Taluliyuk about your birds. She knows a lot about birds.”
Dana was overwhelmed by the offer. “But I’m not one of your people.”
The old woman’s response was immediate.
“We are all family.”
No sooner had the shaman spoken than the stone lamp in front of her lit up of its own accord.
“It begins,” she announced. “I go.”
Closing her eyes, the angakuk began to shake her head till the long beads of her headdress swayed back and forth. A low humming came from under her breath. With mesmeric slowness, she rose to her feet and began to turn like a spinning top, twirling with ever-increasing speed. As she spun, she chanted. The high-pitched notes sounded like birdsong and the sigh of the sea.
Dana and Jean glanced at each other nervously. Brendan stood as still as a statue.
The air in the cave was dimming quickly till only the lamp shed light. The cave flickered with shadows, the greatest of which was the dancing shaman, cast upon the back wall. She seemed to tower over them. At first her song was unintelligible, arcane speech known only to her; but eventually words took shape to form a story and the story itself took shape in their minds.
Once upon a time there was a beautiful woman named Taluliyuk, who spurned all the suitors who sought her love. Then one day a handsome young man came over the waters from a land far away. He wore gray and white clothing; his eyes were dark. His voice was as sweet as a bird’s as he wooed her with promises.
O lady, come with me
To the land of my people
There you will dwell
In comfort and light.
It is a land without sorrow
Without sickness or death
A land without hunger
Without darkness or night.
Of course she went with him. He had promised so much. But when she arrived in his land in the North, she discovered his deception. He was not a king of the other world, but a king of the birds. For he was a fulmar who had taken human form in order to court her. He brought her to his tent of fish skins. It was all torn and tattered and the wind blew through it constantly. She was always cold. There was no oil in her lamps. He fed her raw fish. After a year and a day of misery, Taluliyuk sent for her father to take her home.
Aja, her father, came in the season when the ice broke in the water. He grew angry when he saw the plight of his daughter, and he attacked his son-in-law. They fought long with each other till Aja killed the King of the Fulmars.
“You can come home with me now,” he told his daughter.
Taluliyuk and her father were on the sea when the birds discovered the fate of their king. They cried and lamented till they raised a storm to kill Aja.
Afraid for his life, Aja relented. Crying out to the fulmars that they could have his daughter back, he threw her into the sea.
Taluliyuk clung to the side of the boat with all her might. Though Aja cut off the tips of her fingers with his knife, she still held on. The bits of her fingers turned into whales. Now he cut the middle joints of her fingers and they turned into seals. When the fulmars saw the animals in the water, they were appeased and they departed with the storm. The death of their king had been ransomed with new life.
Then the sea opened to swallow Taluliyuk and she sank down into the Underworld.
There she dwells to this very day, in Adlivun that lies under the waves.
• • •
The story ended, but the shaman’s song did not. It seemed the tale was only the prologue, the antechamber to the throne room. Now they entered the dark heart of the matter. The angakuk’s voice rose higher still and she screeched out shrilly.
That woman down there beneath the sea,
She wants to hide the animals from us,
These hunters in the ice house,
They cannot mend matters,
Into the spirit world,
I will go,
Where no humans dwell,
Set matters right will I.
Dana found herself submerged in a heavy darkness at the bottom of the ocean. Around her moved two-dimensional creatures, flat eels and pseudopods and sleeping leviathans. Slowly she grew aware of something else in the depths, magnificent and misshapen, something so old and immense she could hardly comprehend it. At first she thought it was an idol from a giant city long lost underwater. Then came the beginning of terror when she saw it stir. The thing in the deep was alive.
Taluliyuk.
Dana was glad that Brendan and Jean were beside her. It helped to ease her terror. The angakuk was there, too, singing and dancing in the water. With arms outstretched, she spun in the depths like a starfish. Slowly, reverently, the old woman approached the sleeping goddess. Taluliyuk’s green hair swayed like seaweed. The shaman took out a whalebone comb and gently raked the tangles of long hair, all the time singing like a mother to her child.
Close your eyes, here I am,
I’m right beside you,
I’ll close mine and together we’ll dream.
The lips of the goddess murmured with pleasure. Having lost her fingers, she couldn’t comb her own hair. In turn, she would reward any shaman who requested her help in this way. And now, in the strangest moment of that strange journey, Dana found herself with the angakuk inside Taluliyuk’s mind.
Inside her dreaming.
Dana felt she was here and there and everywhere at the same time. She was with every living thing that was upon the earth. She breathed, slept, hunted, and fed with countless numbers of animals. Every fish in the sea, every bird in the air, every creature great and small that walked, crawled, or flew. Wherever an animal was, there was Taluliyuk, living in them and with them and through them all their lives.
Subtly and courteously, the song of the angakuk changed inflection. A question was asked.
Where are the soul-birds?
In a dizzying ascension, like a plummet upward, Dana was hurled into the sky.
There! A great flock like a spread of clouds. A shining vista of white birds, brooding over the country with ah! bright wings.
Dana sensed the ripple of Taluliyuk’s surprise. These were not her children, not of her body. She called out to the strangers.
In a rush of wings and wind, a mellifluous sibilance, the birds answered her call. Dropping out of the skies toward the shaman’s cave, they alighted on the branches of the barren tree outside.
• • •
Even as the birds fell from the sky, so too did the shaman’s three visi
tors. Back in the cave, they opened their eyes. The angakuk lay on the floor, deep in a trance. Her mouth opened briefly to whistle a word.
“Go.”
It was only when they were in the tunnel and Dana looked back that she discovered the dream wasn’t over.
“Look!” she cried to the others. “Our bodies!”
There they were, the three of them, eyes closed in sleep, still seated near the angakuk.
“Tabernac!” said Jean.
Brendan crossed himself hurriedly. “We are souls alone without their vessels. Another wonder to record! But we must take care. What happens to the soul, happens also to the body.”
The angakuk called out once more. Her tone was urgent.
“Go!”
The three hurried through the tunnel and out onto the ice. There, another marvel awaited them. The branching tree had grown immense, almost touching the sky. Its boughs were laden with birds, hundreds it seemed, all white and shining, of every kind. And all fast asleep, heads tucked under wing.
As she gazed upward into the haze of feathered white, Dana felt a deep thrill inside her. The thrill of recognition. The Faerie blood that enlightened her veins knew the truth. These birds were kin.
“They belong to Faerie!” she said breathlessly. “What are they doing here?”
A single white feather floated down from the tree toward her. She caught it gently, holding it to her cheek. Her face was wet with tears. A longing for home surged through her.
As Brendan regarded the birds, the silver rim of the Second Sight seeped into his eyes.
“The souls of the just in the Mystical Tree,” he murmured. He turned to Dana. “This flock of angel-birds hail from the Land of Promise. They came here for you. Hark to their message.”
It was as if a wind had shaken the great branches of the tree. All the birds began to move, ruffling and rustling as they stretched and preened. As soon as they opened their mouths to sing, Dana remembered. The song she had heard in the Medicine Lodge. The message that tantalized in stray thoughts and dreams. Though she tried to grasp it, to understand, it was too grand, too lofty to be fully taken in. She could only catch phrases, like glimpses, of the Grand Design, the Great Song.
Sleepers awake!
At the heart of the universe, we sing of a life lived in matter.
O nobly born, remember who you are!
She knew they were singing her truth out into the world; the knowledge that was hers from the dawn of time, lost and forgotten at birth. Her heart’s truth. Her soul’s knowledge.
“Do you understand what they’re saying?” Dana cried to the saint. “What are they trying to tell me?”
Brendan had closed his eyes as he listened to the choir of the birds. He was about to answer when Crowley struck.
• • •
In that moment, Dana realized her error. She had relaxed her guard. She had forgotten that her enemy was able to track her. She should have warned Brendan and also the angakuk.
They heard him first, an eerie howling in the wind, then they saw the white tornado that sped toward them. Over the glacier it flew, hoovering up snow, firn, ice, and debris, gaining in bulk as it approached. Before Dana could even attempt to flee, the whirlwind struck her.
Everything went white. The song of the soul-birds ceased abruptly. Dana was sucked into a blizzard of snow and ice. The sensation of cold was so intense, it burned her skin. At the cold heart of the flurry, she sensed her enemy, sensed also his hatred. It was mindless and implacable. It wouldn’t cease until she was dead. The malice itself began to erode her defenses, and she felt the touch of the deadly frost of despair. She, herself, was turning white and cold.
Then she heard it, high up in the air, the chant of the angakuk. The snow that was smothering her melted into water. The crystal flakes became bubbles as Dana sank down,
down,
down into the sea,
where she faced the gargantuan shape of Taluliyuk.
The shaman was still combing the green hair of the goddess. One of Taluliyuk’s great eyelids opened. She stared at Dana.
Mirrored in the dark pupil, Dana saw herself trapped in the whirlwind. She was being dragged across the ice field, alone. Already her body looked frozen. Still standing by the tree, Brendan lifted his arms in prayer. But where was Jean?
Now Dana’s heart was gripped with greater terror as she spied Jean racing across the ice field. His eyes were golden. There was no question about it. He was about to turn. But the wintry sun shone pale and clear.
“NO!” she cried out to him. “No, Jean, you mustn’t!”
She wanted to tell herself it was only a dream. But already she knew the truth. Dreams were never “only.” Brendan’s words echoed in her mind. What happens to the soul, happens also to the body. If Jean became a wolf now, he would be so forever.
“Please!” she begged Taluliyuk. “Please don’t let him do this! I’d rather die!”
Now something huge stalked across the ice field with fantastic speed: a stone giant tromping over the glacier. It bore down on the whirlwind in which Dana was trapped. Head, limbs, and torso were massive rocks. The feet crashed to the ground. With each step it took, the earth shuddered, the ice cracked.
With stony ferocity, the innunguaq attacked the whirlwind. Crowley’s screeches rang through Dana’s ears. Tearing at the innards of swirling snow, the stone giant seized Dana. Now it reached down to snatch Jean, who had yet to turn. In one great movement, the stone giant hurled them both away from the glacier, away from Baffin Island, out of the North.
• • •
With a blur of light and a violent jolt, Dana and Jean landed body and soul on the shore of Ailsa Craig. Nearby, where they had left it, was the flying canoe.
After the white frost of the Arctic, the riot of smell and color was a shock. The landscape dazzled with blues, greens, and grays. The air was vivid with the scent of seaweed and pine.
“Taluliyuk, she save us,” said Jean in a daze, looking around him.
His features were pale. He looked shaken.
Dana couldn’t meet his eyes. Only a short while ago, he had made the same decision his grandfather had made. He had chosen to turn wolf in the daylight in order to save her. It was too much to take in. She clutched a white feather in trembling hands.
“We didn’t get to thank her … or the angakuk … or Brendan …”
She was still stunned by Crowley’s attack. He seemed to be able to follow her anywhere, like a relentless hunter tracking his prey. So far she had been lucky. There was always someone there to help her. Deep inside, she shuddered to think that a time might come when no one would intervene. When she’d have to face him alone. Her fingers closed around the feather.
Jean was studying his watch the way one does after crossing many time zones. It took a while to make sense.
“Monday morning!” he said at last. “Strange how time go, eh? If we leave now, I don’t miss the turkey!”
She managed to laugh, though she was feeling dizzy and light-headed. Too much had happened. She could hardly think straight. There was something she needed to say to Jean, about his decision, but it was too big a thing to broach right now. She was too shy and awed by its significance. It was obvious that he himself wasn’t ready to speak of it. He kept looking away, avoiding her eyes.
“Let’s go home to Thanksgiving,” she agreed.
When Dana got home later that day, she let herself in with her own key. She was thinking of what she would say if there were any questions and how she might avoid lying. The quest had changed her that way.
Her father and stepmother were in the kitchen. She could hear their voices.
“Who’ll tell her?” Gabe said.
Dana’s heart skipped. Her father sounded anxious. Had her deception been discovered? She hesitated at the door and considered eavesdropping further, then changed her mind. That was something else she would no longer do. Instead, she barged into the kitchen before they could say more.
&n
bsp; They were having Thanksgiving dinner. The table was adorned with a lace cloth and candles. There was no turkey, of course, but there was a feast nonetheless.
They were delighted to see her, and she was engulfed in hugs.
“You are returned in time! How wonderful!” said Aradhana. “Will you eat?”
“I’m starving!” she said, happy that things seemed fine.
Gabriel dished her out a bowl of hot chestnut soup. The main course had already been served, but she soon caught up. After a pineapple boat of curried lentil and tomato salad, she started on the almond croquettes with cranberry sauce and potatoes au gratin.
“I’m glad I didn’t miss this!” she said, between mouthfuls.
When they questioned her about the weekend, she did her best not to lie. Apparently Ms. Woods had promised to bring her home without stating a specific time. Neither her father nor her stepmother had any suspicions about the “field trip.”
“I learned a lot about Canada,” she said. “Amazing things. But I’m really glad to be home. Really glad.”
The warmth of her tone was obvious. Gabriel and Aradhana exchanged happy glances.
“Shall we have a game of Monopoly after dessert?” Radhi suggested. “We have not played for so long.”
Gabe groaned. “You always wipe me out.”
“Of course I do,” said Radhi. “I am a businesswoman. You are an artist.”
“What’s for dessert?” Dana wanted to know.
“Spiced apples in chilled cider.”
“Yum.”
• • •
At school the next day, there was no sign of Jean. Alarmed, Dana tried to ring him between classes, with no success.
At lunch she tried again, but the line was busy. That was good news, she told herself, fighting down the waves of panic and worry. Sitting alone in the cafeteria, she wondered where he was. If something bad had happened to him, how could she find out? What could she do? She was haunted by the image of him about to turn wolf in the daylight to save her. Her heart beat rapidly at the thought. He had almost given up his human life for her! She felt awed and humbled by such a thing. And, though she fought against it, deep inside she was thrilled. What exactly did it mean?
The Book of Dreams Page 27
