Polar Boy

by Sandy Fussell

  “Papa,” I yell. “Someone is coming.”

  Papa gathers Uncle and the other men. They come to stand beside Finn, Tuaq and me in a show of communal strength.

  “He must be from one of the groups that have already arrived at the coast,” Uncle suggests.

  Papa nods. He doesn’t take his eyes off the approaching figure.

  “Get Nana,” he tells Miki.

  If the man wants to stay, Nana will decide. She’s already walking towards us, wearing her priestess cape trimmed with raven feathers and arctic fox fur.

  “Hullo-o-o,” the man calls into the wind.

  Papa doesn’t answer.

  “Hullo-o-o,” the man calls again. Closer now.

  Papa waits until he can see the stranger’s eyes. The man is not from any of the villages we join with on the coast.

  “Good morning,” Papa says cautiously.

  “I am called Hulag,” the man responds.

  Papa doesn’t say his name. Instead he nods in Nana’s direction. “This is Ananaksaq.” Nana is famous throughout the icelands and Papa is reminding Hulag how powerful our village is.

  “It’s an honour to meet you.” Hulag’s eyes measure Nana up and down. He doesn’t look impressed. His grin says he thinks it will be easy to charm this old woman with an oil-stained parka and dirty face.

  Papa leads, but Nana decides, and she has made her first decision. This man must wait out in the cold. She’s not going to invite him inside.

  “We will talk now,” she says, squatting in the snow.

  “Here?” Hulag asks.

  “Yes,” Papa says. “It is good enough. What can we do for you?”

  We all know the answer to that.

  “I would like to join your group.”

  Hulag’s nose is weasel long and sharp, not flat like mine. His eyes dart like the weasel too. He’s wary. And he should be. Papa is a mighty hunter and Nana is wiser than the night sky. Together they’re building a trap. If he has anything to hide, Papa and Nana will find it.

  At my feet Mush growls. She doesn’t like weasels. “Shhh, girl.” I tickle under her chin.

  “We have some questions,” Papa says.

  Hulag nods. “I understand. I will answer anything you ask.”

  “Where are your people?”

  “Dead,” Hulag moans, wringing his hands. “Murdered. We were attacked by a band of men, come down from the North. Some people call them Vikings.”

  Just like Nana told me. The Northmen are coming.

  Mama gasps but Papa’s eyes narrow and Nana watches intently. They’re reading between the lines to find the words Hulag doesn’t say. Sifting, searching.

  “We’re very sad to hear of your loss,” says Papa. “How did it happen?”

  “We were erecting our summer tents. The Northmen helped. But that night, they turned on us without warning, filling the sky with bloodcurdling screams. The ice ran red.” Hulag grabs Papa’s arms. “You must turn back. Take me with you.”

  Papa carefully undoes the clinging fingers. “How did you get away?” he probes gently.

  “I went for a walk. I was down by the sea when I heard the cries and saw the flames. I was lucky to escape with my life.”

  Uncle raises his finger to speak. Papa nods.

  “Why didn’t you go back for your family?” Uncle asks.

  “It was too late. Everything was already on fire.”

  Confused, Uncle shakes his head. He wouldn’t have stood and watched. He would have rushed into the raven’s arms, just to be with Aunty and Massak. Nana is frowning too.

  But Hulag isn’t watching their faces. “The fire rose higher and higher.” His eyes blaze as his story grows taller than the flames. “Children screamed. It was so hot. Even the ice burned.”

  “Ice does not burn,” Nana says sharply.

  “Forgive me, Ananaksaq.” Hulag bows his head to hide his face. “My memory is confused.”

  Nana’s voice softens. “The death of so many is a great sadness.”

  Hulag sniffs and looks up. The weasel relaxes his guard. He thinks it’s okay now. But I can see Nana’s eyes. They’re hard like stone. She doesn’t like this man at all.

  “Then what happened?” Papa asks.

  “I grabbed my things and ran. You are the first people I have seen.”

  The weasel twists and turns, pleased with his cleverness.

  “You must turn back,” Hulag pleads. “They call their leader Bjalki. The Northmen are big, strong and cruel. They don’t respect our laws. I wouldn’t take my family near them, especially if I had a beautiful daughter.” Stoat-like eyes glitter as they stare at Miki, who edges away to hide behind Mama.

  Papa doesn’t like the way the weasel looks at Miki either, but Hulag doesn’t notice. His story is burning out of control. “Bjalki is a man mountain. He carries a monster flat blade and a giant axe. But he doesn’t need them. His huge hands can gouge out your heart. I saw him tear apart little children. I saw him drink my people’s blood.”

  Behind me someone gasps in horror. Now there’s something new for me to fear. The Northmen of Nana’s prophecy are giant murderous savages.

  “You saw all this from the beach?” Papa questions Hulag.

  “I crept closer. I have a hunter’s eyes and can see a long way. Your village could do with another good man.” Hulag puffs out his chest. “I’m strong and fit. I work hard and I have much to offer.” He unwraps his sealskin sack. “See these. The Northman’s weapons and tools.”

  A fortune! One weapon would trade for more skins and oil than we could hunt in a year.

  “These could be yours.” Hulag holds out a long knife. “Feel this. It’s called iron. Think how it could carve the meat from a caribou.”

  Uncle and the other men murmur in admiration. I’ve never seen anything like this knife. Neither has Papa. He runs his hand along the flat edge of the blade. Nana touches it too, recoiling as if she has burned her hand.

  “Nothing to be afraid of.” Hulag laughs. “It’s just a boning knife. What about you boy?” He turns to me. “Would you like to touch it?”

  No one says I can’t, so I reach out and place my finger against the edge. Just like Papa. I feel it slice into my skin. The cut is not deep but my blood is red on the blade.

  Hulag laughs as he wipes it off. “That’s the end that bites, boy.”

  “There’s nothing funny about spilt blood. Now the boy’s hand will need to be treated before an infection takes hold,” Nana snaps, pulling the fox fur tight around her face. Foxes eat weasels. Too late Hulag realises his mistake.

  “You should leave,” Papa says, rising to tower over the stranger.

  “Are you sure?” Hulag asks Papa as he stands to stare eye to eye. Hulag’s hands are clenched and his words carefully chosen. “You have welcomed strangers in the past.” He stares at Finn.

  Finn might look different but he’s not a stranger. He’s one of us.

  “The last stranger told us the truth.” Nana glares.

  Hulag spits at her feet. “I hope Bjalki slaughters the lot of you.”

  As he leaves, he turns and shouts. The wind blows the words high but my ears stretch to catch them. “You’re too stupid to survive,” he yells.

  “What did he say?” Miki asks.

  Great stupidity leads to great bravery, Nana and Tuaq said. “He said we were very brave,” I say.

  Behind me Nana doubles over laughing.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ICE COAST

  Papa already has the sled stacked and packed. Tying the ropes, I triple-check each knot. Good. There’s nothing loose for Tuaq to make fun of this time. I breathe a sigh of relief when he walks by without saying anything. Head down, I pretend not to notice him.

  But Mush doesn’t realise it’s a stalemate and she’s supposed to be on my side. She runs to sniff at his boots and thumps her tail when he bends to pat her.

  “Here, girl,” I call.

  “Off you go.” Tuaq grins. “Iluak needs your
help. He’s not very good with knots.”

  I pull a face as Tuaq walks away laughing. Nana wants me to like him but it’s never going to happen. He’s not my friend and I draw a deep line in the snow when it comes to sharing Mush’s affection with him.

  “You belong to me,” I remind her. Threading gloved fingers through her thick fur, I tickle the soft neck underneath.

  Papa brings me his whale harpoon and lance. He holds them in place while I lash both poles against the side of the sled, careful not to brush against the newly sharpened stone blades. It takes many harpoon thrusts to kill the great beast of the sea. Because Papa is the hunt leader, he will strike first.

  “I’m eager to see the ocean,” he says. “I’m happy when the whale is caught. Then I know our village is safe for another winter.”

  My heart is glad too. It flaps its wings and swoops out over the water. It flies all the way to the coast where the sea bites great chunks in the ice, leaving wide channels for the bowhead whales to swim.

  Uncle will guide our boats through the ice-strewn water while Papa stands at the back, harpoon ready. This summer, I’ll be with them for the first time. While Miki and the other children gather lichen for Nana’s herbal teas, I’ll be chasing whales with Finn and Tuaq. I wish Tuaq wasn’t coming, but even that can’t stop my spirit from flying.

  As we paddle, Tuaq will ask the sea for permission to hunt her whale. Afterwards, Nana will lead the prayer of thanks and the ice will echo with celebration. There’ll be games, feasting and friends to catch up with from the other villages.

  Remembering Hulag’s story, my heart forgets to flap and sinks into the snow.

  “What about the Northmen? What if Bjalki attacks us?” I ask Papa.

  He shakes his head and specks of snow fly from his beard. “Nana says there is nothing to worry about. You should think about whales and how full our stomachs will be.” He rubs his middle and licks his lips. Papa likes his plate piled high.

  I’m not convinced. If I’m dead, I won’t care if my belly is full or not.

  From inside the igloo, Nana hears our conversation and my doubt-filled thoughts.

  “A man who barely escapes with his life doesn’t stop to pack a bag of valuable property. Hulag doesn’t care about his family or friends. His advice is as worthless as polar bear droppings.” She wrinkles her nose. “We will meet the Northmen in peace.”

  But it’s not that easy. First I have to face the bear and I’m not sure I can do that.

  “Our village knew a Northman once. He lived among us for many years,” Papa says. “Thorvald was an honest man, with the great heart of a musk ox, not the wriggling ways of the weasel.”

  Nana agrees. “When I looked Thorvald in the eye, he stared straight back. If Thorvald’s people have come to the icelands, we will be glad to share with them.” She puts her arm around me. “No man owns the ice. He walks across it until the spirits decide he can walk no more. Then he dies.”

  “What happened to Thorvald?” I ask.

  “He perished in a hunting accident.” Papa looks sad.

  “Finn probably needs my help,” I say, wriggling out from under Nana’s embrace. I don’t like to talk about death and, if I stay a moment longer, Nana is sure to mention bears. Death and bears travel the ice together.

  “Off you go then,” Papa says. “We’re leaving as soon as everyone is ready.”

  Finn is still packing his sled. Miki is helping. Without a father, Finn works hard to look after his mother and little half-sister. I tie the last of his knots for him.

  “Nana says there is nothing to worry about but I’m still afraid,” I admit.

  “Trust Nana.” Finn pats me on the head. The comfortable teasing of a good friend.

  “Silly Illy.” Miki throws a snowball at my face. The uncomfortable teasing of an irritating little sister.

  “Let’s go, everyone,” Papa calls. He’s in a hurry now.

  “Race you,” I yell to Miki. Running hard, I launch myself onto the back of our sled, rattling the pots and pans, and stress testing my knots. Of course nothing breaks.

  “Yah-ah. Yah.” Papa and Finn lead the sleds into the snow lanes carved by the sweep of wind against ice. Light snowfall flicks my face. Slep. Runners slide over the ice. Slosh. They swish though puddles of melting snow. Slap. The sled careens around rocks and the dogs yap excitedly as we race towards the finish line. Slep, slosh, slap. It’s difficult to navigate through the thinning ice but it’s fun to ride on the back of the sled.

  The sight of the ocean lifts my spirit and sends it sailing over the sea, until the shadow of the Northmen sends it scuttling back. Nana and Papa are not afraid, I remind myself. Miki and Finn are not worried either. It doesn’t help. I’m still scared.

  “Yah! Yah!” the drivers call, spurring the dog teams onwards. But the dogs don’t need encouragement when they can smell summer and the promise of a meal every night. Mush and Brak love whale steaks best.

  We’re the first village group to arrive. Papa and Uncle carefully unpack the long, curved tent poles made of bowhead whale rib. The spirit of the whale belongs in this place. Some families build sod houses from mud and snow, but Nana says a hunter should sleep inside the whale’s belly. Our village always listens to Nana and every year we catch a whale.

  Another village arrives. And another. Soon, it’s noisier than a flock of artic terns arguing over the last fish. We’ll pitch our tents together, mixing old friends with new. Maybe one day Miki will marry into one of these groups. When Tuaq is shaman I might go with her because I don’t want to belong to any group that listens to Tuaq’s advice. I’ll take Finn with me too. My best friend will always follow wherever I go.

  “Miki!” My sister is swallowed by a hungry flock of hugs and squawking voices. “Let’s get out of here,” I say, digging Finn in the ribs. “I’ll help you put up your tent.” Edging backwards, we escape before the girls notice us.

  Finn’s mother has already laid out a circle of stones to mark the tent floor. Across the centre of the circle, a line of smaller stones separates the cooking area from the sleeping quarters. It’s not a big tent, just large enough for three people.

  I hold the whalebone centre support while Finn wedges it into place. Next we roll out the skin flaps. The leather is soft and newly folded and refolded to make it easy to manage. Together, Finn and I overlay the pieces, lacing and tying them together.

  “Thank you, boys,” his mother says. “Now I can unpack the sled.”

  “I should go and help Papa put up our tent now,” I say, escaping before the unpacking begins.

  Finn smiles. He’s not fooled but he doesn’t need my help now. It’s their private mother-son ritual of setting up home for the summer and I would be in the way. If I’m lucky, Papa and Uncle will have finished erecting our tent and there’ll be no more work for me to do today.

  I follow the sound of Papa’s voice to find he hasn’t even started to put up the tent!

  “Hello, Raynor.” Papa greets his friend with a thump on the back. “How was your winter?”

  It’s always about the winters. We measure our success by surviving to summer.

  “Winter was not too bad. There were three days when the seals stayed away and we ran out of oil for the lamps. On the coldest day we lost one grandfather, but his time had come and he was ready to go.”

  Papa and Raynor nod and pull at their beards, exchanging news and swapping tales.

  “Much has happened since the whaling moon,” Papa says. “Our Iluak fell in the ice but Finn pulled him out. Nana named young Tuaq as our new shaman. And this morning a stranger came among us. He said the Northmen slaughtered his village. Have you heard anything about that?”

  “I did hear there was some trouble further north but I’ve seen nothing myself.”

  “I suspect Hulag made the story up. Nana didn’t trust him either.”

  The two men nod together. A man alone will take desperate steps and tell great lies.

  “We saw a l
arge bear on the way here. Is Nana still spinning that story about Iluak facing the bear?” Raynor asks.

  “It’s not a story, it’s the boy’s destiny,” Nana interrupts. “The spirits have called him back from under the ice because they have a task for him. Isn’t that right, Iluak?”

  Nana’s one ear is so finely tuned it can hear me listening quietly behind the sled.

  “Yes, Nana,” I mumble, embarrassed to be caught.

  “Sorry, Ananaksaq. Greetings. I did not notice you arrive.” Raynor bows. “I meant no disrespect.” He shuffles his feet self-consciously.

  The last man who forgot to show Nana respect learned a sticky, smelly lesson. I was there when Quill started to complain. Open-mouthed, he fell face first into a pile of caribou droppings. I bet it tasted awful, but the laughter would have tasted even worse. Later I heard him apologise. “I told you so,” Nana said. Everyone cringes when she says her favourite words.

  “Our villages need Iluak to do what must be done. And when the time comes I will shake my finger and tell them all ‘I told you so’.”

  Nana is smiling but Raynor apologises once more. Just to be safe.

  “Sorry, Nana.” He looks her in the eye.

  “You are a good man,” Nana says. “You can learn a lot from Raynor,” she tells me.

  Raynor measures my height with grinning eyes. “I can see you are not a boy any more. Maybe you will marry my daughter.”

  They all laugh at my look of panic. I am afraid of so many things, and one of them is Raynor’s daughter. I like her a lot but every time I talk to her my heart beats so fast I can hardly breathe.

  “Just joking, Iluak. I’m looking forward to riding in the umiak with you. I hear you are very lucky this year.”

  I don’t feel lucky. Tuaq says I’m bad luck. How can it be lucky to be stalked by a bear with boy-crunching teeth?

  “Tuaq has set the drum up on the promontory,” Nana says. “Finn and Miki are already with him. Why don’t you go and join them? The whale calling is about to begin.”