Blooded Ground (Clan of the Ice Mountains Book 2)

by C. S. Bills

  Blooded Ground

  Book Two: Clan of the Ice Mountains

  by C. S. Bills

  Highest Hope Publishing LLC

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  A Word from the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book. Blooded Ground, Book Two: Clan of the Ice Mountains. All Rights Reserved.

  Copyright © 2014 C.S Bills.

  Edited by Bethany Eicher.

  Cover and formatting by Jeff Bennington.

  Published by Highest Hope Publishing LLC.

  This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Dedication

  To my husband Mark:

  Every day with you is a new adventure!

  Chapter 1

  Attu stared at the skin boat rocking against the shoreline at his feet. The craft had looked sturdy enough when Tingiyok had hefted it from its rack beside the shelters. Now, it seemed fragile.

  Cedar trees surrounded the small bay. As Attu scanned the horizon beyond the point, the waves swelled, but within the bay the water was smooth. Tingiyok had assured Attu it was a good day for his first paddling lesson.

  A good day? Attu scowled. It had started drizzling, again. The trees in the distance blurred as the clouds lowered into fog and drifted across the water. Tingiyok, one of the Seeing Clan, as they called themselves, might be impervious to the constant rain and chilling dampness, but Attu’s bones ached and his teeth chattered.

  So different from the crisp cold of the Expanse, of home.

  Their Clans had trekked across the northern reaches of the great frozen water. They’d survived the breaking of the ice, making it to the coast of this never-ending land just in time. There was no going back. Their world of frozen Expanse no longer existed. In its place the water now moved, as far as Attu could see, a great undulating mass of water. Ocean, the Seeing Clan called it.

  Attu shook off the nagging restlessness that had plagued him from the moment they’d arrived at the Rock of the Ancients and the lush forest and racing streams of this new world.

  Like it or not, this is home now. Either this, or the great plain to the east where the curved tusk animals live.

  The Seers were leaving for the grasslands soon. It was what they had planned all along. Get all the Clans off the ice then begin traveling east again, retracing the path their ancestors had taken so long ago. Just thinking about moving away from the water made Attu’s heart sink. But if he was going to stay, he needed to learn how to survive here. And that meant learning to make and use skin boats.

  Attu studied the quiet bay before him. An eagle circled, then dove, skimming the water and reaching out with its talons. Hooking a large fish, it struggled upward again. Its wings thumped under the added weight of its prey. No matter how many times I see it, I still can’t believe some animals can fly, let alone hunt while in flight.

  Attu jumped when Tingiyok whistled a high-pitched call to the eagle.

  “The eagle blesses our beginning,” he said.

  “Is the spirit of the eagle with the Seer Clan?” Attu asked. “Like the Ice Mountains spirit is for my Clan?”

  “The Seeing Clan believes in the Great Spirit,” Tingiyok replied. “He is over all things. But we revere the farseeing eagle, and we believe that sometimes the Great Spirit looks through the eyes of the eagle, sees us, and through the bird’s spirit, he may choose to bless us.”

  Attu hoped the Elder was right. The bay was as quiet as Attu had ever seen it, but paddling on it was still dangerous. He’d just learned to swim, and the water grew deep quickly. A spear throw from shore the water was black, reflecting the darkness of the clouds in its depths.

  He felt the flimsiness of the tiny boat as he steadied it against the lapping water.

  I’m supposed to glide on the water in this?

  I will need the help of all the spirits...

  “Get in,” Tingiyok said.

  Attu stepped into the boat, keeping his feet off the sewn-together skins and treading lightly on the inner ribs before working himself into a sitting position. It was a tight fit. He was enveloped now, only his upper body visible, his legs sticking out in front of him, hidden by the skin cover.

  “Come!” Tingiyok called, and Attu realized that while he’d been settling himself into the skin boat, Tingiyok had slid into his own craft and paddled out into the bay.

  Attu shivered. Tingiyok had insisted Attu wear nothing but the men’s cloth the Seers wore under the capes they used to keep off the constant wet. The cloth scratched Attu when he moved, and it certainly did nothing to keep him warm. Tingiyok had said beginners must always dress like this, especially for their first few lessons. When Attu had questioned why, the old man had just grunted. Meanwhile, Tingiyok wore a loose shirt and leg coverings of some kind of woven material and a short stiff cape and hood made from bark, which shed water. He looked comfortable and warm.

  I could use a fur blanket and a fire right now, or at least some more clothing, like Tingiyok.

  Attu gritted his teeth and pushed off the shore with the end of his paddle.

  Then he was out in the water, his paddle dipping, his craft moving forward.

  I’m gliding, just like Elder Nuanu’s song, the one about the skin boats slipping and sliding on the water!

  He grinned at Tingiyok, and the few teeth the old man still had gleamed yellow in his wrinkled face as he smiled back. Tingiyok turned his craft with one motion of his paddle and headed off, parallel with the shore, his skin boat picking up speed.

  Attu paddled as Tingiyok had instructed while they were still on land, dipping the left side of his two-ended paddle into the water, then the right, and keeping his hands steady in front of him, his weight centered in the boat. He sped faster and faster over the water.

  This is like flying, like the eagle in the air; I’m flying on the water!

  Attu looked up, his eyes searching for the eagle, but it hadn’t returned. Attu whispered his thanks to the eagle’s spirit, for truly this was an amazing blessing, to ride on the waves like the eagle soared in the sky.

  Looking ahead, Attu saw Tingiyok moving even faster, small swells of water now making an expanding wave behind his boat. Attu risked a glance backward. His boat too, was creating a wake behind him. Tingiyok was a fast paddler
, and as they sped along the edge of the bay, Tingiyok moved further ahead. Attu worked to keep up, shifting his weight slightly to pull with more force. As he over-reached, the craft tilted, and Attu yelped when cold water splashed on his chest and back. His boat rocked, making his stomach tighten until the craft finally steadied on the water again.

  Tingiyok paddled back to him.

  “So begins the next part of our lesson,” Tingiyok said as he drew alongside Attu’s boat. “You have two choices when your boat flips: either right it with your paddle, or pull yourself out. Both can be deadly. If you wait too long before you try to escape your boat, you’ll drown. But once you’re out, it’s very difficult to get back in when you’re in deep water. If the boat is filled with water, it will sink with your added weight.”

  Tingiyok circled around Attu’s boat. “When you go far out to sea, you’ll wear the water guard, otter skin you tie tightly around your upper body below your arms, which fastens to the edges of your craft, all around. This will keep the water out if you flip, allowing you to right yourself and not flood your craft.”

  Tingiyok pulled his cape and shirt over his head, revealing wiry muscled arms and chest. He tucked the garments into a waterproof pouch on the inside of his skin boat. “Nearer shore, like in this bay,” he continued, “we just swim to land. All our boats have a rope attached to the front so we can pull them to shore. The boat will float when water-logged, and you can rest by hanging on to it if you grow tired. But once it’s filled with water, it will sink if you try to climb back in.”

  Tingiyok moved his skin boat nearer. He lifted himself out of his craft and balanced on the back of it for a heartbeat before slipping his legs over and disappearing into the water.

  Attu gasped. He still couldn’t see anyone going under water without his stomach clenching. In the far north, if a man disappeared into a hole in the ice, he usually drowned, weighed down by his furs, sinking like a stone to Attuanin’s spirit kingdom at the bottom of the ocean.

  The old man’s head popped back up. The water reached Tingiyok’s neck, but he was standing, not treading water, so it was shallower here than Attu had thought. “Now,” he said, “once you get out, you’ll be able to stand.”

  “You want me to do what you just did?” Attu asked.

  “No, that’s not the first lesson we teach our young ones. This is,” and Tingiyok grabbed the side of Attu’s boat and flipped it over.

  “What happened?” Rika asked as Attu stumbled into their shelter at dusk. He was trembling, his hair dripped, and he knew he was covered in bruises and scratches.

  “Skin boat lesson,” Attu said. He swayed on his feet.

  “What?” Rika grabbed their best fur, the ice bear fur Attu’s mother had given them after they were bonded, and steered Attu to a place close to the fire and furthest from the shelter’s opening. He sat down hard, and Rika wrapped the fur around him. Attu’s teeth chattered as he clutched the warm fur to his wet body.

  A cooking pouch was tied to a wooden tripod near the fire. Rika busied herself filling it with water. Picking up a large heated stone, she dropped it in. The water boiled. Rika added a few leaves to the pouch and stirred the contents with a carved stick. Attu watched her as she worked, her lips pursed in concentration, her arm moving in a gentle rhythm. Finally, she dipped one slender finger into the pouch and tasted the liquid. Satisfied, she picked the leaves out again and set them aside before dipping a wooden bowl into the pouch, filling it half-full of the steaming liquid.

  Attu enjoyed watching her do these tasks, working to make a home for the two of them. Finally off the ice and having convinced Rika’s father, Paven, that Elder Nuanu had bonded them before she died, they were working to build a future for themselves; Rika was now a part of Attu’s Ice Mountain Clan and Attu’s family. Still, her father wasn’t happy about it.

  Attu came out of his thoughts as Rika handed him the bowl.

  “Here, this will warm you up while I make some food,” she said.

  Attu took the drink, grateful for the warmth of the beverage and the tangy taste, but he frowned as he relaxed and felt how sore his back and arms were.

  Tingiyok. The old fool.

  “What happened?” Rika asked again as she cut a handful of cattail roots into the still boiling pouch, adding small hunks of fish until the pouch was full. She stirred it.

  “Everything was going well with my first lesson until Tingiyok tipped my skin boat over on purpose.”

  Rika’s eyes grew wide and her hands stilled.

  “He told me they do this with every young boy of the Seeing Clan, flip them over so they can learn how to either right the skin boat by using their paddles, or slip out of it under water to save themselves.”

  “But you’re not a boy, you’re a full grown Nuvik. You barely fit in their boats.”

  Attu nodded. Rika knows why this was such a dangerous thing for Tingiyok to do to me. Why didn’t the old man think of it?

  “I couldn’t get out.” Attu avoided Rika’s eyes, studying the fire instead. Another shiver convulsed his body, this time from remembered fear, not cold.

  I was trapped under the water. It was like the worst nightmare I’ve ever had, but it was real. I panicked. I lashed out with my paddle, trying to right the craft, and when I knew I was about to breathe in water and drown, I let go of the paddle and ripped the sides of the boat to free myself.

  But he was too ashamed to speak of his fear to Rika. Instead he said, “I ruined Tingiyok’s skin boat. I split it nearly in half to get out. Now Tingiyok’s furious with me.”

  Rika’s eyes were tender. She touched his arm.

  She knows I’m not telling everything. How can I share how terrified I was? What it felt like to be trapped upside down in the water with nothing to hang on to, to grab on to, to pull me out? Just freezing water and darkness...

  “Tingiyok should have known that you, a fully grown Nuvik hunter, would be too broad to slip easily out of one of their skin boats. You are built like an ice bear, he a cedar sapling. How could he have taken such a risk?”

  “I don’t know. But tomorrow I must help him repair his boat, if it can be repaired.”

  “Why? It was his fault!” Rika moved to settle another log on the fire. Attu could feel her anger on his behalf. It made him feel better.

  “I need to keep the peace.”

  “We’ve been dancing around these people like they are hot coals ever since we came.” Rika poked at the few coals in their own fire, sending up a shower of sparks.

  “Not Paven. The Seers saved us, called us off the ice, but you’d think they were just nuisances the way your father has been throwing his weight around since we came.” Attu heard the frustration in his voice and glanced at Rika, hoping he hadn’t upset her.

  “I know,” Rika agreed. She sounded as concerned as he was. “And your father has grown quiet again, stepping back, as he did before, willing to let others lead in his place. Why is he doing that?”

  “I think Father is just trying to make sense out of all that has happened,” Attu said, drawing the furs more closely around himself. “Sometimes I see him staring at the trees, or the water, or some new animal as if he can’t believe they’re real, as if they must be spirits in a dream and not the reality of Here and Now.”

  “Many of our older ones seem overwhelmed by all the newness, the strangeness of this place, like Ubantu,” Rika agreed. “Your father reacts by withdrawing, and mine by pushing others around.” Rika looked away.

  The children of their Clans had taken to this new world like fish to the water in which they all learned to swim so easily. Even the youngest boys could now make snares to catch the long-eared animals called rabbits, and they ran about in the trees and in the streams as if they had lived here their whole lives. Attu’s people had been here for one moon, and the older people of the Clans, except for Paven, seemed as frozen in place as if they were still back on the Expanse and waiting out a blizzard. Both Ubantu and Attu’s mother, Yural, were am
ong those having a hard time adapting.

  “Your father seems to think the best way to adjust to our new home is to attack anyone who stands in his way and to act as if he knows everything about this new world when, of course, he knows nothing.”

  Rika’s shoulders stiffened at the mention of Paven again. “He blusters when he’s unsure of himself,” she said. “You need to watch him, Attu. That’s when he can be dangerous.”

  Their eyes met for a moment. Deep sadness filled Rika’s. Then she turned away.

  “I will speak with Ashukat again, reassure him that we’re grateful for the Seer Clan’s help and that Paven doesn’t speak for everyone. And I’ll help Tingiyok rebuild the skin boat I ruined.”

  Attu drew Rika close beside him and nearer the fire. She looked up at him, her eyes no longer sad, but filled with curiosity instead. “And then what?” she asked. “What will you do once you repair Tingiyok’s skin boat?

  “I’ll build my own, one that fits me, not a Seer.”

  “So you’re determined to learn this skill, this hunting by boat?”

  “Yes.”

  “Father says we should travel east with the Seers and hunt the great curved tusk animals. They’re leaving in the next few days to try a hunt. Are we still going with them if you don’t want to become a curved tusk hunter?”

  “Yes. I think we should, to see what it’s like. But in a couple more moons when the herds of curved tusks head east and north with their young ones, I don’t want to go with them, even though Ashukat, as the Seer Clan’s leader, says it’s been their plan all along. We are the last Clans off the ice, and they believe they should travel with us, away from this cold and damp and back east and north where the hunting is good, the weather drier, and the land of grass will support our numbers easily.”

  “But it was never our plan to keep the Clans together once we arrived. I don’t want to stay with Paven, even though he is my father.”

  “I know.” Attu pulled her closer to him.

  “And your father? What does Ubantu think?”

  “I don’t know. He hasn’t said.”