Polar Boy

by Sandy Fussell

  Hopeful eyes turn towards me as I do my best to look brave. I’ve fooled some of my people. Nodding, they drift back to their chores.

  “Like me,” Finn says sadly, pointing after the Northman.

  “Nothing like you. You are your father’s son and you should be very proud.” Nana pulls him close and he buries his head into the fox fur on her parka. I know how he feels when she does that. Safe. Warm.

  I wish I felt like that now.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  AN EVEN BIGGER BEAR

  Weak morning sun gleams against exposed rib cage. The whale has been stripped almost bare. Today, the men will remove the great bones and the women will prepare for tomorrow’s celebrations. Games, feasting, wrestling and song. I can’t wait. If only the Northmen would go away. If only Nana’s prophecy wasn’t stalking me.

  “Nana, Nana.” Finn’s little sister, Buniq, runs so hard she almost skids headfirst into the belly of our whale. Luckily, Papa’s strong hands catch her as she stumbles.

  “Take a deep breath, little one,” Nana says, her voice low and soothing like the whale’s song. “What has happened?”

  “She wouldn’t come.” Buniq coughs, struggling for breath. “She’s still out there.”

  “Breathe deep,” Finn reminds her. “Like the seal swims.”

  Buniq sucks in a great gulp of air. “When the rest of us saw the bear coming, we ran. But she didn’t. She stayed there.”

  Parents search quickly, relief filling their faces as each daughter is found. When everyone is counted, no one is missing.

  “Who was with you?” Papa asks, confused.

  “The other girl. The one that looks like Finn. She doesn’t understand what we say to her.” Buniq begins to cry. “She probably doesn’t even know why we ran away.”

  All the girls are weeping now.

  “A Northman child.” Papa measures the words carefully to hide his worry in front of the little ones. A child doesn’t stand a chance out on the ice with a bear.

  “Come and show us where you were playing,” Nana says.

  Buniq shakes her head and clings to Finn.

  “We go together.” Finn nudges her forward. Anyone would feel braver holding his hand.

  Buniq and her friends lead us behind Raynor’s tent, to the edge of the cleared snow. She points into the distance, where the rocks are larger and some are stacked one on top of another. It’s not too far. I could run there easily, but I’m not stupid enough to run towards a bear. I can see it from here. It’s big.

  “Can you find the child?” Nana asks Miki.

  Miki has excellent eyesight. When the arctic hare crouches in the snow, he’s safe from everyone except Miki’s owl eyes.

  “Yes,” she whispers miserably. “She’s climbed up on top of the pile of rocks. The bear is circling around her.”

  My eyes are not as good as Miki’s but my ears are much better. And the problem with excellent hearing is sometimes you hear things you don’t want to. Like the soft sound of a child weeping. Like fear crying across the ice.

  Pulling my parka hood tight around my ears, I try not to listen. But it doesn’t work.

  Even Papa is unsure what to do next. He looks at Nana. She looks at me.

  I’ve got nowhere to look, except into my heart. Past the bear cub on the mountainside. Deeper than the freezing seal hole. Out onto the ice.

  My time has come. The bear has what I want. She’s a Northman child and perhaps Bjalki will be so grateful for the little girl’s rescue, he’ll let the Too-lee live and our two peoples will share the land. That’s two parts of the prophecy completed. But what does the bear want from me? If it’s my soul, he’ll have to fight Raven for that.

  My mind is strangely calm, still as swept snow. It’s not about me any more. Nothing exists except Nana’s words.

  I know what I have to do.

  There’s one thing I know of that might frighten or distract a bear. It worked once before.

  “I’ll be back,” I say. Rushing to our tent, I sort through Mama’s cooking pots, looking for the biggest one. Got it! It’s still unwashed, encrusted with last night’s seal and fish dinner, but it’ll have to do.

  I race back to Nana.

  “You’re going to cook up the bear?” Miki asks with a shaky smile.

  Great bravery requires great stupidity, Nana said. It doesn’t get any more stupid than this. Armed with Mama’s cooking pot and spoon, I’m about to face my bear. The cub didn’t count – it was sick and could hardly move. The bear I surprised outside our igloo ran away. This is the real thing, not just another test.

  Papa places his hand on my elbow. I stare into his eyes. Don’t say it, Papa. Don’t make it easy for me to stay. Don’t tell me I don’t have to go.

  “Iluak is ready,” Nana says, gently removing his arm. “His grandfather is going with him.”

  Touching the bear claw around my neck, I feel a little less afraid. Thank you, Nana, for reminding me.

  Eyes on the rock stacks, I walk with one forced step following another. It’s an effort to keep my shaking knees apart. I haven’t got a hope of keeping my stomach quiet. It rumbles, terrified at the thought of being spread out over the ice.

  “Wait,” Miki calls. When I look back, Miki, Finn and Tuaq are right behind me.

  “Together,” Finn says.

  There’s no way I’m letting them come with me. It’s too dangerous.

  “Go back,” I insist. “I have to do this but you don’t.”

  Miki plants her feet and fixes me with a stubborn little sister pout. Not even a musk ox could move her when she pulls that face. “No.”

  “Please,” I say. It’s never worked before but I’m desperate.

  “No.”

  Nothing I say will change her mind. So I talk to Finn instead.

  “Please take Miki to Nana.” Even though he wants to stay, Finn doesn’t hesitate. He picks up Miki and slings her over his shoulder, like a hunter carrying a caribou carcass.

  “Put me down,” she yells, kicking and punching.

  It’s wasted effort. Finn’s jacket is thick enough to keep out a raging blizzard and Miki’s anger is a little storm compared to that.

  Finn doesn’t want to leave me but he understands why I have asked.

  Now I’m alone on the ice with a small girl, a very big bear and Tuaq.

  “You leave too,” I say to him.

  “You can’t tell me what to do.”

  It’s true. I can’t make him do anything. He’s a shaman now, and answers to no one except Nana and himself. Even Papa can’t tell Tuaq what to do any more.

  “All right. But don’t get in my way. I’m not rescuing you again.”

  “You’ll make a louder noise if you bang the pot with this.” Taking my caribou antler from under his anorak, Tuaq snaps it apart and hands half to me.

  It’s a good idea, although it probably would be louder if I had both pieces. Why is he here anyway? Looking into his eyes, I understand why. It’s hard to believe. He wants to help because he’s my friend.

  “Thanks,” I mumble gratefully.

  We walk without speaking, hurrying towards the place neither of us wants to be.

  A shriek pierces the air. Standing on its hind legs, the bear lunges at the rock pile, reaching and swiping. The louder the girl screams, the angrier the monster roars. There’s no time to sneak and plan. No time to find courage. No time for common sense. Banging the cooking pot as hard as I can, I run towards the bear. Tuaq races beside me.

  Furious, the bear turns. I’ve seen that look before. Last time, it ripped the words from my mouth, but this time, I find the strength to squeak.

  “Tuaq, get the girl and take her back to Nana. I’ll distract the bear.”

  I’m doing a good job. The bear has forgotten everything except me. Beady eyes are slicing already.

  I need to tempt the bear away from the rocks. Klunk-tunk. Klunk-tunk. My antler pounds against the pot. The bear rushes towards me. Mid stroke, my arm freez
es in fear as Nana’s prophecy is fulfilled – I’m chosen by the bear.

  Rearing onto its hind legs, the great white beast towers in front of me. Snarling. Teeth gnashing. Saliva dripping.

  The bear rumbles. Menacing. Low and guttural.

  I bang the pot as loud as I can. Kerplunk-tunk-tunk.

  A whale might like music but a bear doesn’t. It growls louder. Threatening. Sinister and vicious.

  Desperate, I raise the cooking pot in a last futile threat.

  Silence sweeps the snow as the bear’s mouth gapes noiselessly. I’m paralysed. Soon, the ground will no longer be white. It’s about to turn red.

  “Come fly with me, Iluak,” Raven calls. “I can take you away from the ice.”

  Triumphant, the black bird drops from the sky ready to snatch my soul.

  Thwack.

  The other half of my antler comes hurtling through the air to knock Raven to the ground.

  Grunting, the bear swipes at me and my pot spins out of reach, across the snow. I’m completely helpless.

  Suddenly, the bear drops to all fours. It sniffs. It snorts deep. Snout twitching, it lumbers after the pot. The best nose on ice has found something better than me. Nothing can resist the smell of Mama’s seal stew.

  I race away as fast as I can, as if a bear really is chasing me. I keep running until I stumble, sobbing into Papa’s arms.

  “Where’s Tuaq and the girl?” I whisper as soon as I catch my breath.

  “Already safe. Thanks to you.” Papa’s eyes fill with pride. He passes me to Mama, who smothers me with kisses. I can hear Miki and Finn laughing at me, but I’m just glad to be safe.

  “You did well, Iluak,” Nana beams.

  “Next spring I am going to hunt a huge caribou and get an even better antler for Tuaq.”

  “Maybe you will,” Nana says. But I can tell she doesn’t think it will happen. Why not? I thought she wanted me to like Tuaq.

  At least I don’t have to worry any more. I’ve faced the bear and saved the girl. Bjalki will be so grateful he’ll forget he was ever angry with us and my people will be safe. I’m a hero. So why is Nana still staring at me?

  Something niggles and bites. Like a mosquito in my sleeping bag.

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of now, is there?” I ask nervously.

  “There is always something, Iluak. It’s what keeps us alive.”

  I nod, unhappily. The fear is still there. Perhaps Bjalki won’t be grateful. Maybe he doesn’t care about children.

  Thum-thum thump. Tuaq’s drum is calling our people together to decide how to return the girl.

  “Can’t it wait?” asks an old man. “She seems happy.” He points to where the Northman child plays chase with Buniq and her friends. “Our tents are not all up and the whale is still unfinished.”

  Nana glares but I understand. The man is afraid.

  “Hush,” says his wife. “Would you want to wait if it was our child?’

  Nana smiles approval. There will be an extra helping of whale for that one tonight.

  “We could keep her and make a bargain with Bjalki,” suggests a hunter.

  Papa glares this time. “We do not use children for trade. Who will take the girl home?” he asks.

  My people are not cowards. Our life is a battle to survive. Every winter we bury the old and the sick. It’s a struggle that moves slowly, measuring out our days. But this is a new threat that rushes towards us with huge angry fists, threatening to crush our whole village in one bright red moment. No one wants to die first.

  Finally, Raynor steps forward. “I will.”

  Uncle stands beside him. “And I.”

  “They can’t just walk into his stronghold,” mutters someone. “It’s certain death.”

  “I’ve heard the path is lined with spikes, and on each point is the bloody head of someone who made Bjalki angry.” Raynor’s wife sounds worried and the child holding her hand begins to cry.

  “I’ve heard he uses unwelcome messengers for target practice.” Aunty sounds worried too.

  I shiver. Uncle and Raynor are very brave.

  “They say he has a storehouse of arms and legs he has ripped from his enemies,” adds a young man from Raynor’s village.

  Nana shakes her head. “We’re not his enemies.”

  “He doesn’t know that,” another mumbles.

  “Then we will have to teach him.” Nana grins. “But not this time. This time Uncle and Raynor will sneak like the fox. When they are within sight of Bjalki’s house, they will leave the girl.”

  “How will Bjalki know what happened?” I ask. If he doesn’t know I rescued her, we haven’t got a hope of escaping his anger.

  “She will tell him,” Nana says. “Come, little one,” she calls to the girl, who runs to Nana’s outstretched arms. “These men will take you home.” The girl doesn’t understand the words but like everyone, she trusts Nana.

  Uncle holds out his hand and she places hers inside it. Then she hesitates and looks at me. “Elga,” she says, tapping her chest.

  “Iluak.” I point to myself.

  Elga launches herself at me and hugs hard, before running back to Uncle. My face is bright red and Miki giggles softly beside me.

  Sitting in the snow, Finn, Miki and I watch them leave. When Tuaq joins us, I make a space for him to sit beside me.

  “Why did you come with me to rescue Elga?” I ask.

  “I owed you,” he says.

  “No, you didn’t. We were even. And we still are. That’s twice you’ve saved me from the raven.”

  He grins. “I didn’t do that for you. I did it because it was fun.”

  “No, you didn’t. You did it because you like me.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Because I like you.”

  There. I said it. Everyone heard. Even Nana, wherever her one ear is. And I know exactly what she’ll say. I told you so.

  We sit waiting, chatting, laughing and swatting summer mosquitoes. The Northman camp is not far away, but by late afternoon, Uncle and Raynor still have not returned. The tents are all up and the whale meat and bones have been distributed with a share of steaks frozen for Bjalki.

  The muttering begins slowly, gathering other voices as it grows. “Do you think they are dead by now?”

  “Maybe he’s torturing them.” Men frown and pull nervously at their beards.

  We’re all thinking about two new heads on sticks.

  Inside our tent, Aunty sits in the corner, rocking baby Massak. Tears drip from one face to the other. Mama fusses at the cooking pot. Stirring and stirring.

  “I think it’s time to play,” Nana announces. She rounds up all the children and passes a sealskin trampoline to me. Finn, Miki, Tuaq and I lay it out on the ground while a taggle of little ones jostles to see who goes first.

  Papa takes a firm grip. Finn stands opposite him. They are joined by other village men and the circle is soon stretched tight.

  “You can go first,” Papa tells me.

  I climb on the skin and test the tension with a small jump. My stomach somersaults as the blanket is flipped. It’s fun. I jump as high as I can. I tuck my knees under and jump again. One ringed seal, two bowhead whales, three husky dogs. Mush yips excitedly, counting with me. High into the sky, I jump to forget my fears. Arms spread like the snow goose, I don’t need the raven to fly away.

  I can see far across the ice. Almost as far as the Northman camp. Far enough to see the man walking towards us. I drop to my knees.

  “A Northman is coming, Papa.”

  “Take the children inside,” he instructs Miki.

  Papa and Nana walk to the edge of the camp to meet the messenger, with Finn, Tuaq and me following behind.

  It’s Ottar again.

  “You are twice welcome,” Papa says.

  Not by me.

  Ottar nods to Papa. He nods to Nana.

  “Bjalki the Bear, great ruler of the Northern lands, thanks you for rescuing his daughter. I
n return he will allow you to send someone to speak with him and perhaps he will discuss sharing his whale as a reward.”

  “It is not his whale,” Nana interrupts. “I already told you that.”

  Please don’t argue, Nana. Bjalki isn’t a man, he’s a monster. Please don’t goad him when there’s a chance he might spare us. Remember Uncle and Raynor. Their lives might depend on what you say next.

  Papa wants to argue too. “If Bjalki wants to talk to an Icelander, he already has my wife’s brother and my best friend.”

  Then I realise what he’s doing. The great hunter is not arguing. He’s fishing. He wants to know if Uncle and Raynor are still alive.

  Ottar is not as smart as Papa and Nana, and walks arrogantly into the snare. “Bjalki does not negotiate with those who come skulking and sneaking into his camp. They await our leader’s judgement.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief. At least they’re alive and that means there’s still hope.

  Ottar sneers. “Send someone worthy this time. But choose carefully. Bjalki has a violent temper and those who make him angry rarely return. Do not keep him waiting.”

  The messenger leaves without hearing our answer. It doesn’t matter to him. He probably doesn’t care if Bjalki murders us all.

  A worried murmur ripples and swells until panic sweeps through the gathered villagers.

  “What will we do?” an old woman wails.

  Priestess and prophet, Nana raises her arms and her voice booms across the ice. “Someone must face the Bear.”

  I can hear the mosquitoes buzzing as all eyes turn to me.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE BEAR CAVE

  No, no, no! I scream inside my head. I healed the cub, braved the bear outside our igloo and rescued the girl. I’ve stood in front of three bears. I’ve done everything I was asked.

  Except this, Nana’s eyes answer. You have passed every test and now you are ready to fulfil your destiny.

  Cradled in Miki’s arms, baby Massak whimpers and tugs at my heart. I look across a sea of familiar caring faces. My people need me to be brave.

  I’m not. But I know how to pretend. Clutching Grandfather’s necklace, I step forward. Beside me Finn moves too. Like my shadow, he’ll follow me anywhere. Even into the cave of the bear.