Polar Boy

by Sandy Fussell

  “Pish. Fox spoor and bear droppings,” Nana hisses, pointing downwards. “This boy is not yours yet.”

  Papa stops moving.

  “What’s wrong?” Miki yells.

  “The ice is too thin,” calls Papa. “I can’t get close enough.” He edges backwards.

  “No,” I moan.

  “Yessss,” Raven cackles.

  “I try now,” booms Finn.

  Finn is even heavier than Papa. There’s no way he can reach me.

  He ties a slip-loop at the end of the second rope. Spinning it above his head, he calls out to the sky. Finn’s throw is strong and sure. The rope drops down around my shoulders. As if I was a statue.

  The rope tugs tight.

  With a gentle push from Nana, my spirit slips downwards towards my body.

  “It’s not fair,” Raven whines. “He was mine. He was dead.”

  “And now he’s not.” Nana smirks.

  Raven opens its cruel black wings and grins. The tip of its beak gleams, sharp and vicious. Claws clench.

  “Nana,” I cry, as the raven launches at my defenceless body.

  “Stop,” Nana orders. “Stop it or I will pull your feathers out one by one.”

  Raven hesitates. Caw, caw. Defiant, Raven swoops again. Something sharp scrapes across my neck.

  Grandfather’s necklace hanging from its beak, the raven crows in triumph. “You lose too, old woman.”

  Into the icy water below, the necklace plunges.

  Hee caw. Hee caw. Raven flies off, its screeching laughter ricocheting around the ice.

  “It doesn’t matter,” whispers Nana. “You’re safe now.”

  Thunk.

  My spirit drops into my body. I’m glad to be cold. It means I’m alive.

  Finn ties the end of his rope to the dog harness. Yah-yah! Yip-yip! Brak and Mush strain to haul me out.

  Crack-ack. There’s no danger this time. The ice breaks as the rope lifts and drags me towards our sled. Papa cheers. Miki hoots like a snowy owl as I skid across the thicker ice to where Papa waits to scoop me into his arms. Cradling me close, his beard scratches my chin.

  Finn releases the dogs from their harness. The ground shakes as they howl towards me, Finn pounding beside them. Miki’s tears splash onto my cheeks and Mush’s rough tongue licks them from my face.

  Even though my eyes are frosted shut and my body is still frozen stiff, I can feel everything. Carefully, Papa places me into the bed of furs. Finn and Miki climb up to lie against me, their body heat seeping into my blood.

  “Will Iluak be all right, Papa?” Miki whispers. “Why is he so still? Why doesn’t he open his eyes?”

  Papa tucks the furs tight. “Nana will look after him.”

  “She built the ceremonial igloo for Iluak,” Miki exclaims happily. “She knew.”

  Placing her hand in mine, Miki murmurs against my ear. “Hang on, Iluak. Nana will help you.”

  She already has.

  Finn says nothing but he knows.

  Papa straps us all to the sled for the journey home. Mush and Brak are ready to run, faster than they ever have. Running for my life.

  Both the raven and the bear have marked me now. The scrape on my neck itches and a bead of blood dribbles, tickling and teasing. I desperately want to scratch it but I can’t move a muscle. Somewhere Raven laughs at my discomfort. But I don’t care. My blood isn’t ice any more. It drips and runs.

  Finn and Miki have made me warm. I’m alive.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE COLOUR OF ICE

  Something heavy presses on my feet. I peer through half-closed eyes to see Miki, resting her head across my socks. It’s too good an opportunity to miss. Wriggling a toe, I poke it up her nose.

  “You’re awake,” she shouts, landing on top of me with a big bear hug.

  “I am now. Who wouldn’t be after a whale jumped on them?”

  She squeezes me hard. “We thought you were dead.”

  “You’d like that,” I’m about to say as I struggle to sit up. But I don’t say it. The words freeze in my throat. Miki isn’t making a joke, she’s crying. Lamplight flickers and flares, revealing an ocean of faces. I’m not at home in bed. I’m in Nana’s ceremonial igloo and the whole village is staring at me.

  Open-mouthed, I stare back.

  Out of the hush, Nana’s voice rises, expanding to fill every space. “Great Spirits, the Too-lee people give thanks for this boy, Iluak. Newborn from under the ice. Called by the bear. Chosen by the seal. And marked by the raven.”

  Like the rush of spring thaw, I remember everything. My teeth chatter. My body shakes. I was dead!

  “You’re safe now.” Mama places a blanket around my shoulders, holding me close and still, as if I really am a new baby.

  “Good.” Finn smiles, handing me a cup of tea. “You’re not cold any more.”

  That’s a lot of words for Finn so I know he’s been worried too. The tea runs hot and sweet down my throat, its warmth reaching through my belly to my toes.

  “Thank you for saving my life.”

  “I help Nana.” He smiles wider than his face. And I grin back. Friendship is something you feel, not something you say. Finn has already taught me many things. Nana was right about that.

  My grandmother’s body is shrunken and brittle but her spirit looms larger than the bowhead whale and shines brighter than its polished ribs. Her mind is fox-trap sharp and those who argue risk losing a finger. Once, I bragged to Tuaq that my Nana was powerful enough to bring back the dead. And tonight, with Finn’s help, she has.

  I’m resting on a platform of ice, covered with waterproof sealskins and thick deer hides. On one side Mama sits, and on the other side, Finn leans against me. Miki sprawls at my feet. But someone is missing.

  “Where’s Papa?” I ask.

  “Your father has a surprise. Now you’re awake, he’ll be here soon.” Mama dries her eyes on her parka sleeve. “I was so scared. Nana said you had great courage and would fight through the ice sleeping, but I was still afraid for my little boy.”

  Now I hug and comfort her. “It’s okay, Mama. I’m all right. I didn’t know I was brave either.”

  I’m still not sure. Maybe it’s easier underwater when you can’t feel anything. My face flushed, I carefully undo her arms. Too many hugs are embarrassing, especially when everyone keeps staring. And Nana wouldn’t be pleased if I ruined everything by suffocating in the middle of her rebirthing ceremony.

  My head spinning, I slump against Mama’s shoulder. Finn tucks me back into my furs.

  “You need to rest,” Mama says. “You’re not strong yet.”

  Two women stand up to sing. One of them is Aunty. The other is her best friend, Kari, whose family has the igloo next to us. Aunty holds out baby Massak to Mama, but I reach for her first, cradling my littlest cousin close. Soft and warm, she smells like new deer hide. I feel safe with her nestled in the hook of my arm.

  Nana refills the large seal-oil lamp, brightening the gloom. Silence falls in a snowdrift as we wait for the throat singing to begin. Throat songs are only sung at very special celebrations. After the singing is over, Aunty will need to rest her voice for a week.

  Facing each other, mouth close to mouth, throat close to throat, the women call out in song. At first their voices run beside each other. Suddenly, Aunty’s voice drops deep and low, like the moan of the caribou. Kari’s voice answers. Higher, softer. Now one voice stalks the other.

  Towards the sky, Aunty’s voice soars on the wings of a snow goose. Kari’s voice chases then plummets, free- falling to coo like a ptarmigan pigeon at Aunty’s feet. My spirit follows the voices. Round and round I spin. Over and over I tumble. Until everything is black. Like the raven’s feathers.

  Inside my head, Raven waits for its chance to whisper into my ear.

  “Come Iluak, we’ll fly again. I can take you away from the ice. I can give you a world of colour where nothing is white.”

  Shaking my head hard, I send the rave
n squawking and skidding back to where it came from. No matter how frightened I am, I still want to live.

  The song has finished now. My village celebrates with stomping feet and clapping hands. Arms skyward, Nana speaks to the spirits in the ancient language of the shaman, the audience hushed and awed by her strange words of power.

  There are two people inside Nana. The village honours the mighty ice priestess. But when the wind blows hard and the polar bears scratch against the igloo walls, I cuddle against the gap-toothed old woman with spilt soup in her lap and mischief in her eyes.

  My grandmother likes a good joke. “Eh?” she often says, cupping her hand to her one good ear and pretending to be twice as deaf as she is. Especially if she’s receiving a big compliment. Nana likes to hear those over and over again, really loud.

  I owe Nana the loudest compliment in the world. She saved my life, keeping the raven away so Finn could drop his rope around me.

  “I love you, Nana,” I whisper. It’s the biggest compliment I know and it’s loud enough. Across the room Nana turns one ear to listen.

  The noise in the igloo rises to hang like a fog over us all. Nana is chanting again. Women sing and families dance. Little children run everywhere. My people know how to throw a big party in a small space. All we need now is food. I’m so hungry I could eat a musk ox, hairy ears and all.

  With perfect timing, Papa and two other men emerge from the tunnel entrance, carrying a large seal cooked in its own fat. Every mouth waters at the sight of a meal basted in enough oil to light the village for a month. It’s a smell to die for, almost worth falling through the ice. My mouth dribbles as Papa slices me a huge seal steak, a man-sized serving.

  “You are no longer a boy,” Papa tells me. “Now that you have swum with the seal, this is your first meal as a man.”

  It’s not often we see this much food at one meal. Life on the ice is a series of stretched meals and meagre portions. In winter, our bellies are never full and in summer, we barely have enough. Beside me, Tuaq’s little sisters argue over who has the biggest piece. A village is a family and this family is my home.

  But something has changed. I hear my name rising and falling on waves of conversation. Then someone points in my direction. Over and over. Wary eyes look at me and, when they see me look back, they glance away, pretending they were never there.

  I know why. I’m different now. Reborn a chosen one. It makes people nervous.

  But there’s one who’s not. In Tuaq’s dark eyes I see something else, something murky. We’re the same age but we’re not friends. There’s much more than dislike in his glare.

  I haven’t spoken to Tuaq since the fight. Was it only this morning? How long have I been asleep?

  I didn’t hurt Tuaq with my fists but when he fell, he cut his cheek on a rock. Nana bathed and dressed the gash on Tuaq’s face. Then she lectured me. It wasn’t fair. He started it but he didn’t get into trouble. Nana’s tongue is sharp and my ears still hurt.

  I don’t like Tuaq at all. I glare back.

  When Miki catches my eye, I grin and wave. Her smile shines bright with all the colours of the northern lights, filling the room until no one else exists. I didn’t know she could do that! In a few years, when Miki is old enough to be married, I’ll help Papa choose her husband. Glancing around the igloo, none of the boys I know are good enough for her. Too loud. Too silly. Too smelly.

  In the darkness Tuaq is watching Miki too. I glower until he notices and looks away. She’s not going to marry him, I decide. That’s for sure.

  Slowly a drum beats, reminding me of Grandfather’s funeral. Grandfather K’eyush lay still and grey, until a layer of frost formed on his face. Later, we covered his body with a pile of rocks. In my mind I can see him smile, daring me to balance one more stone on top of the heap.

  “Come sit with me, Iluak,” Nana mouths, seal fat dripping from her chin. “I miss him too.”

  With tentative steps, I climb down from the platform. No one tries to stop me. Miki is talking with friends. Finn has lined up for a second plate of seal. Even Mama has gone, dancing with Aunty and baby Massak.

  Nana opens her arms and I hug her tight.

  “Careful. Now that you are a man, you are very strong. Your strength will crush my old bones,” she says.

  “My soul thanks you.” I bow to the ice queen. But I have other questions for my grandmother. “I don’t understand. If you knew what was going to happen, why didn’t you stop me from going? You didn’t even say ‘Be careful’.” My voice shakes with the tears I am now too old to cry.

  “Some things I can’t change, Iluak. The spirits are testing you.”

  I don’t like it but I understand. “Do you know what will happen to me next?” I ask.

  “Yes,” she says, her fingers tracing the patterns carved on her story stick.

  “Are you going to tell me this time?”

  “No.” Her fingers stop. “It is best not to know.”

  “Please. Just enough to help me to be brave,” I plead.

  Even the ice queen’s heart cannot say no to her grandchild. She sighs. “The bear is waiting. But each battle will help you grow stronger.”

  What battles? One huge white bear with gleaming teeth and cruel claws was enough for me to worry about. Now I’m even more afraid. Nana was right again. I didn’t need to know.

  What other enemy could there be? I wonder. Maybe she means Tuaq. That’s okay. I don’t like him but I’d fight him again any day. Searching the igloo, I spy Tuaq talking to Miki. My eyes narrow as I try to bore into his thoughts.

  Nana takes my hand. “The bears are moving and the Northmen are coming. There is great danger but you will be there to make everything right. And that’s good.”

  Sometimes Nana sounds like Finn. It’s not good. And everything is not good or bad. There’s a lot of grey in my life. Sealskin. Dirty snow. Grandfather’s face in death. I don’t like it when things change.

  Nana pats me on the head and tickles my neck with her crooked fingers. I snuggle against her like a little child. I am not afraid of other peoples travelling down from the North, but white shapes on the ice terrify me.

  “Why must I face a bear?” I burrow into the soft leather of her jacket.

  “The spirits have chosen you. You are the one who has something the bear needs.”

  “What if I don’t go?”

  Nana holds me close. “You will, Iluak. It’s in the stars.”

  “I’m so afraid,” I whisper. But my fear is not great enough to rearrange the sky. No one can escape the spirits. If I don’t go, we’ll all be punished. Maybe even die.

  Nana turns my face to look at hers and smiles straight through to my heart. “Do not worry little one. The bear calls and calls to you. It roars across the ice and the sound is very loud and frightening. But it also has something you want. You will be rewarded.”

  The only thing I want is to stay away from bears.

  Across the room I notice Miki, still talking to Tuaq. She looks angry. He’s pulling at her arm but she doesn’t want to go. When she sees me watching, she waves to call me over.

  “Miki needs me,” I tell Nana.

  Leaning back, Nana nods as she closes her eyes. “Go look after your sister and we’ll talk again later. The bears will wait, Iluak, but they will never go away.”

  And neither will Nana’s constant reminders, but I do my best to try and forget.

  “Hello, Tuaq,” I say, placing myself in front of Miki.

  He doesn’t bother to answer, just stomps away.

  “What was that about?” I ask.

  Miki doesn’t answer either. Instead she hugs me hard. “I hate boys. All of them – except Finn and you.” Then she runs off to join a line of dance.

  Brrrr! Someone has left the tunnel flap open. Cold air buffets my face. The bears will be out on the ice now. Dropping to my knees, I crawl down the passageway to find out if I have been reborn any braver.

  The sky blazes with colour.

>   Ocean green.

  Sky blue.

  Blood red.

  It’s the wrong time of year for the northern lights. The quiet is eerie and hollow. Even the air tastes strange.

  Raven’s voice blows warm against my ear. All the colours of the ice. If you fly with me. Covering my ears, I scream inside my head so I can’t hear any more. Perhaps Nana lost her ear on purpose, so Raven couldn’t tempt her.

  Searching the sky, I hunt for the stars Nana told me about. The shape of the bear glows brightest, its starry eye looking down at me as it opens its mouth to speak. I don’t want to listen. Not to bears. Not to ravens. Not even to Nana’s words. But there’s nowhere to hide.

  On the horizon, a dark blur turns to begin its run towards me, growing whiter and closer. Wedged between sky and ice, I’m caught between two bears. One races towards me. Another growls at me in the stars.

  The sky is red. The ice is red.

  My throat burns where the bear claw scraped and the raven talon scratched.

  “Leave me alone.” I’m screaming out loud now.

  Raven laughs. Bear roars. The ice begins to spin.

  Powerful arms catch me as I fall. “Safe now,” says Finn, gently leading me inside to where Nana is waiting. Her eyes grow small and bright, the way they do when the spirits talk. Shivering, I huddle against Finn, his strong arms protecting me from what she might say. Nana’s words can dig a hole even deeper and colder than the one I fell into today.

  “Bear called and seal chosen.” Her voice swirls around me.

  “I don’t want to be,” I whimper.

  But the priestess doesn’t listen. “You have no choice. It’s in your blood. You are reborn in your grandfather’s image.”

  I wish I was. Then all my worries would disappear. Grandfather K’eyush was strong and brave, not fearful like me. Razor-sharp icicles ready to fall, Nana’s words hang between us. I’m afraid to move.

  Luckily, Nana moves first. She puts her arm around me and smiles. “But now you are just a tired boy who needs to rest. Finn, take Iluak back to bed.”

  My friend scoops me into his arms. Nana tucks a blanket over me, kissing my forehead. Too exhausted to feel embarrassed, I’m content to be carried back to bed, like a newborn baby in its sleeping bag.