Beyond Belief (Clan of the Ice Mountains Book 4)

by C. S. Bills

  “Thank you,” Toonuk said, smiling briefly in genuine thanks before turning away. As the Tuktu leader walked back with his men, he seemed to sink into himself, appearing smaller. Toonuk’s shoulders drooped, as if he’d been holding himself straight while speaking to Attu, but didn’t have the energy to remain that way.

  Attu watched with his men as the Tuktu herders began gathering in their animals. Instead of the arrogant stares most of the Tuktu herders had given Attu and his men during their first visit, several smiled wearily as they moved past Attu’s men, working to get the animals settled in within the area where the hills and some rocks along three sides made a natural enclosure. With fewer men, they were struggling.

  “Let us help you,” Attu called out to the men.

  One shook his head, but several others nodded and motioned for Attu and his hunters to spread out on the east side of the herd, blocking them from escape and helping the Tuktu funnel the animals into the more enclosed area.

  Once the animals were secure, the Tuktu called out their thanks and Attu and his men started back to camp. “I’m not sure I want to know what happened to them,” Rovek said, “to lose so many of their numbers.”

  “They seemed almost relieved to be back here again, don’t you think?” Ubantu asked.

  “Yes. These are not the same people who stalked out of here last fall after killing the thieves and declaring themselves as the ones with all the knowledge of right and wrong, while claiming we knew nothing.” Attu looked back at the herders, now working with their women to set up shelters. “Something very bad happened to them.”

  “Whatever it was, half of them are now gone, and Toonuk said it wasn’t because of sickness,” Suka said. “Do you think they were attacked? Do you think that many herders left the Clan? Maybe there’s another group of thieves out there now.”

  Attu shuddered at the thought.

  “No,” Soantek said. “They were missing women and children, as well. They may have had a division in the Clan, but I don’t think so.”

  “I think they were attacked and lost that many people, and now they’re grieving,” Ubantu said.

  They walked the rest of the way back to camp in silence.

  The Nuviks and Tuktu gathered around several large outdoor fires in the warmth of the spring evening. They feasted on fresh seal meat, fish, and greens from the surrounding woods. Then all gathered to hear the Tuktu’s leader.

  “Thieves attacked our camp this winter,” Toonuk said. “A large group, like the ones we killed last fall with your help.”

  Lips popped at Toonuk’s words, though none were surprised.

  “We fought hard and many of us were killed,” Toonuk said. “The thieves set fire to our shelters. We lost women and children, as well. But we also killed all of the thieves who attacked us.”

  Lips popped again. “How were you able to defeat them?” Attu asked.

  “It was my son, Martu,” Toonuk said. He glanced to where Martu sat near Kossu and several of the other younger hunters and young Tuktu women.

  Martu looked up at the mention of his name. Pride gleamed in his eyes as his father spoke.

  “Martu was the first to spot the enemy coming. He alerted the rest of us. When he realized the thieves would reach our camp before the women and children could get away, Martu used the dogs and the tuktu herd to create a wedge between as many of the thieves as he could and our shelters, driving the attackers away and forcing them up against some cliffs nearby. Then he and the other boys scared the tuktu into stampeding right to the edge of the cliffs. A few of the tuktu were lost, but the thieves he’d been able to corral also fell to their deaths, their bodies broken on the rocks of the shoreline below.”

  “The rest were too close to the shelters and had set fire to several before we could fight back. We fought to protect the women and children,” Spartik said. The Elder’s face was drawn, his brows furrowed as he remembered the fight. “The thieves became confused when their band was divided, and many of their men got caught in the tuktu herd. And when we began shooting arrows at them, I think they were shocked. They ran. My men chased them down. More of our herders died in the close fighting. But the whole band of thieves was killed.

  “When we spoke with the other Clans at the winter gathering, we learned that another Tuktu Clan was attacked by thieves around the same time as we were. They were too far from us for it to be the same thieves. Many Tuktu died in that fight. And the thieves got away.” Spartik spat off to the side.

  “We are sorry for the loss of so many of your people,” Yural said. She rose and placed her hand on first Toonuk’s then Spartik’s shoulder. “We will pray for their spirits and for yours as well, in this time of your grief.” She spoke a prayer aloud then, and the group hushed to hear her. Attu felt his spirit joining in the prayer as the smoke rose from the fires into the night sky, carrying Yural’s words to the trysta spirits and beyond.

  When she finished, all was quiet for a moment. “Thank you,” Spartik said. “We thank you.” He moved his arms out, drawing all his people into his words of appreciation. Heads nodded and many of the Tuktu men and women smiled at Attu’s people.

  “And now you will want to know of the sickness,” Toonuk said. Attu heard the reluctance in the man’s voice, but also his determination to share this, too, with Attu’s people.

  “You said you escaped the sickness. But others did not?” Attu asked.

  “We usually winter near other Tuktu Clans; the one we are closest to makes camp to the east of the fire mountains near the river, we on the west near the ocean. I think you know the place. You spoke of it when you told of escaping the Ravens.”

  Attu’s people agreed. “We hunted just south of there for the wild tuktu,” Rovek said.

  “Yes. The grass grows near the mountains and the warm springs, even in the winter. It is a beautiful place. We make our camps and visit back and forth, trading and telling stories during the long nights. Many of our people are related through exchanges of women and men among us. Before this winter, it’s always been a time of joy to reunite with that Clan again.” Toonuk stopped as his voice broke. He tried to continue, but couldn’t.

  Toonuk’s woman, Nealria, spoke up from her seat beside him. “As our Clan’s healer, what happened is almost too hard for me to tell. But you need to know. Two thieves stumbled into another Tuktu Clan’s camp as they headed south. The other Clan was just a few days behind us.

  “One of the thieves grabbed a Tuktu woman and tried to take food from her shelter. The other Tuktu hunters killed the thieves, but by the time the Tuktu realized these thieves were not just suffering from starvation but also suffering from the open sore sickness, it was too late. Many had touched the bodies and the amazing bows and arrows.”

  “Being ahead of them saved our lives and cost them theirs,” Spartik said. “Within days of the attack, nearly everyone in that Clan was ill. Within a moon, they were dead.”

  “How do you know? Did any survive?” Rika asked. Her fingers closed tightly around Attu’s as she spoke.

  “Two of their older children caught the sickness but lived. A few of the men had gone ahead, looking for grazing, and the others kept them away from camp when they returned. One of them is with us now. The others died in the fight against the thieves who attacked us.”

  “Two children out of fifteen families,” Nealria said. “When they didn’t come to the winter gathering place, some of our men went looking for them. The last ones set a guard to watch for us, knowing we would come. They flew the red hide, so we’d know something was wrong.”

  “The red hide?” Tingiyok asked.

  “Normally it means sickness in the herd, so others don’t come near our tuktu with their own animals. We take one of the sledge poles and erect it in the middle of the camp with a hide stained red from the red flower plants that grow near the fire mountains. The color stands out against both the green of grass and the white of snow.”

  “Clever,” Attu said. “But I’m so so
rry it had to used by your fellow Tuktu.”

  “My grandfather was the last to die.” A young hunter Attu didn’t recognize stood. He looked to Toonuk, who seemed grateful not to have to tell the rest and sat, letting the young hunter continue the story. “I am the only hunter from my Clan who survived both the attack on our Clan and the attack on Toonuk’s. I was with the other hunters of my Clan, looking for grazing, when they were attacked by the sick thieves. Grandfather would not let us near the others when we returned. My grandfather did not become ill. He was a strong and robust hunter, even though he was old. He buried all who died, giving them the proper rituals for the full time we Tuktu guard the graves of men, a full moon.

  “Then he set fire to every shelter, burned every possession of his people, and culled the herd. He believed the tuktu would not carry the illness, but he did this just to be safe.”

  “So all their weapons, their bodies, their clothing was burned?” Rika asked.

  “Yes.” The young hunter paused. “My grandfather waited with the two remaining children most of the winter, until they were completely healed of the sores and fever free for two moons. Then he came to us.”

  “We took the children,” Nealria said. “It was the right thing to do.”

  “Our Elder Nuka had the sickness and lived,” Rika said. “When others among us got the illness, she was able to care for them and not become ill again herself.”

  “Some of you got the sickness?” Toonuk stood up, several of the others with them. “Why didn’t you tell us?” He glared at Attu, fear and anger making him look like the Toonuk Attu remembered.

  “All is well. There is no danger,” Yural said. “We would never take such a chance. No one among us is sick.”

  She looked to Nealria, who reached up, touching her man’s leg. “Sit, Toonuk. Listen to them.”

  Toonuk sat. Attu felt the other Tuktu sliding away from his people, as if on reflex. But no one got up to leave.

  Attu told the Tuktu about the thief who attacked Keanu and Soantek, about what they’d found and the precautions they’d taken. He told them about Keanu and Soantek’s illness and Mantouk’s death.

  “Probably those two who attacked the Tuktu Clan left the thieves’ band when the others got sick, like the one who attacked us did,” Attu said.

  “That was about the same time,” Spartik agreed.

  “Where is your grandfather now?” Tingiyok asked. “I’d like to-”

  “Just before Grandfather gave us the children, he explained what he felt had to happen,” the young hunter said. “He was not seriously ill yet, he said. But he might become ill. He’d touched the children, as well as the others, been in contact with clothing, tools, the very ground he’d been walking on for moons. And he’d developed a cough he could not shake. He was afraid he was somehow carrying the spirits of the sickness, and that it might erupt in him at any time. He said he could not risk ever coming into our camp, not knowing how long it might be before he could become ill enough to infect us all. He had the children wash in the pool by the mountain, one the rest of us could avoid without trouble. Then he sent the children to us, naked. He didn’t risk touching them or going near them again.”

  “Then what did he do?” Rika asked.

  “Grandfather made his peace with the spirits,” the young hunter answered. “I went with him – at a distance, of course – to the top of the fire mountain. He was determined not to infect anyone else with the evil spirit of this terrible sickness. He called out to his name spirit, explaining why he had to do what he had decided to do. Then he walked to the top of a high cliff overlooking the fire from the mountain and jumped into it.”

  And he jumped. Attu saw it, as if from the hunter’s own eyes, as he spoke those words. He saw the Elder leap into the molten redness of the fire mountain, his face filled with pride, his staff in his hand as he disappeared into the smoke and heat. Attu felt the grandson’s grief, and a pride that reflected his grandfather’s, and a love so intense it overwhelmed the grief.

  “As our Elders did in the time of the great cold of the Expanse, walking out onto the ice so others might not starve but have their portion to eat, this grandfather gave the ultimate sacrifice for his fellow Tuktu.” Toonuk hit his chest with his staff three times. The Nuvik men stood. Attu and the other hunters returned the acclamation with their spears.

  In spite of the lateness and the pooliks asleep in the shelters, the women of Attu’s Clan began the ululation cry, joined by Toonuk’s people. They called out long and loud to the spirits of the Beyond to accept the Tuktu hunter into the Between as if he had been buried in the traditional manner, to see the bravery of his sacrifice, and to reward him in the Between of death.

  Attu watched as the Tuktu women hauled down the large Tuktu shelters and rigged two of the heavy shelter poles into sledges with the hides, much like the Seers had done to haul tuskie meat. But instead of people pulling the sledges, a harness of hides was strapped to a tuktu, and the animal willingly pulled the sledge.

  “It is a good life for them, most of the time,” Yural said. She stood with Attu apart from the others, at the crest of the last hill. Kavut sat in his carry sling, his eyes wide to the sights around him, quiet as usual.

  “This has been a hard winter for all of us,” Attu said. He turned to his mother. “I know the Tuktu need to head north again to the lush grass of the plains there, but I felt safer with our combined numbers.” He watched as the men moved out first with the herds, the women following. “Last time I could hardly wait for them to leave.”

  “This time is different,” Yural agreed. “We both need all the people we can get to help us stay safe. Last fall, Toonuk was full of himself. Now, he’s experienced two attacks on his people, one devastating, and the sickness wiping out their sister Clan.”

  Attu met his mother’s compassionate gaze. “But he will be a better leader now that he knows he’s not as in control as he once thought.”

  “Perhaps these tragedies will help all the Tuktu people in the end.” Yural looked out over the hills where the Tuktu were slowly making their way north. “The spirits’ ways are sometimes strange, but it is clear that these people’s arrogance in leadership brought about the existence of roving bands of thieves in the first place. The sickness may well be the result of such evil in their midst for so long. They need to listen to their strong young men and give them a place. Not just try to cull them from the herd like raging bull tuktu.”

  They stood in silence for a while longer before turning back toward the camp, joining Suka, Kossu, Tingiyok, and the few others who’d come to see the Tuktu leave.

  “Did you notice that Kossu spent all of his time with Spartik’s youngest daughter while they were here?” Suka asked Attu. “What is her name?” He turned to Kossu, a teasing grin on his face.

  “Chirea,” Kossu said, blushing.

  “And does she like you?” Suka asked.

  Kossu said nothing, but grinned at Suka before running ahead.

  “Suka,” Yural said, “let the young hunter have his privacy.” She tried to sound reproachful, but couldn’t. She looked to where Kossu was still running, her face now thoughtful. “Many of us are looking forward to the Tuktu’s return in the fall. I will ask the spirits for a good reunion between Kossu and Chirea when they meet again.”

  Attu chuckled. “Now who’s meddling?”

  “He’s gone!” Ganik screamed as he ran from his family’s shelter. “I tell you he’s gone! And I’m going after him. Grey Wolf will not go back into the wild like his father. He’s my dog!”

  Tishria stepped out of the shelter as Attu and Yural approached. Ganik was running over the hill.

  “Should I go after him?” Attu asked.

  “The dog has run off before. He’ll be back.”

  “No, he won’t,” Tishria said. “Grey Wolf told me he’s going to find a mate of his own.”

  It was growing dark. Ganik was still missing, and now Chonik was gone, too.

  “How c
ould my brother do something so stupid?” Kossu asked. He and Attu were searching where they’d first found the pups, thinking Ganik might try there first. “There are predators in these hills. And there are so many ravines Ganik could fall into. What if there are wild tuktu and he stampedes them? Or a moose?”

  “Ganik and Chonik are both aware of the danger. Trika said Chonik took her fire starter and his bow and arrows, along with his hunting knife. I think Ganik told him where he was going to look first. So if Chonik can find Ganik, he should at least be able to build them a fire to keep the predators away tonight.” Attu topped the next hill and searched the horizon. Nothing.

  Chapter 17

  Both Soantek and Keanu had flown to look for the boys. No one had seen either the boys or Grey Wolf. There had been no one at the old den and no sign they’d been there.

  “We need to head back toward camp and try circling more to the south,” Kossu said. “The boys and Grey Wolf often went that way, exploring.”

  “Good idea,” Attu agreed.

  The two struck out from the top of the rise and headed down into the next ravine between the hills.

  “Help!” A call came from the next rise. “Help us! Someone help us!”

  “Ganik!” Kossu raced up the next hill, Attu at his heels. They stopped as the moon finally made its appearance over the mountains, lighting up the top of the ravine and revealing Ganik and Chonik, huddled behind a large rock, peeking out just enough so Attu could see their faces in the shadow. Sprawled at their feet was a man.

  “He’s not dead,” Ganik yelled, as Attu and Kossu approached. “But I think he’s hurt.”

  As Attu and Kossu approached, they could see the man was lying with his knee bent at an impossible angle. Sweat poured from him, beading up in the moonlight and making his pale face glisten. His eyes were open and wild. A bow and arrows lay on the rocks nearby, and the man looked like the thief who’d attacked them, but even more ragged.

  “What do we do with him?” Kossu asked. “He looks like he might have the sickness. We shouldn’t touch him.”