Secrets

by Ken Altabef

  “The air was filled with flying white. He could see nothing with his eyes, but his spirit-vision recognized the identity of the angry tarrak, the ghost in the storm. For it was his old friend, Beluga Killer.”

  Balikqi paused, blowing out a gust of stale breath that stank of meat and old blood. “He was my friend as well. In a way he was the best of us. A giant in stature, with a proud warrior’s heart. He was born Borghanu, his soul-name Usorsuuk, but he earned the nickname Beluga Killer by single-handedly taking down a beluga in the springtime of his fourth year. Well, in truth it was a fairly small whale at that. But in his fourth year! Even then he was twice the size of any bear on the floes. He had the most wonderful laugh, like joyous thunder. He was like a son to me.”

  Balikqi paused, scratching absently at the side of his snout with a long claw. Alaana thought of what she had said earlier about being the daughter of Old Manatook.

  Balikqi shook his great white head. “He didn’t deserve to be killed in such a coldhearted manner.”

  “On that we both agree,” added Alaana.

  “It was a crime against nature. For that, vengeance must be swift and total. Marusak was already dead, but his daughter had escaped.

  “Aisaac tried to conciliate the wayward spirit, but his words were as whispers in the gale. The rage of Beluga Killer had twisted his spirit beyond reason. And besides, he was in the right! He was entitled to vengeance! He had been shamefully wronged, and Higilak was a part of that. His revenge would remain incomplete until he took his toll on the woman who had butchered his body. Upon learning this, Aisaac broke away and rushed back to the place where he had secreted his wife. He found her gone.

  “Higilak had grown impatient waiting alone. She had returned home. She found her village much as she had left it. The tents and encampments, the fishing weirs and boats. She was greeted gleefully by one and all, a tremendous cheer rose up at her arrival, and everyone rejoiced as her family once again embraced their wayward daughter. It seemed as if they had forgotten sending her away, or were simply too overjoyed at her return to worry over it. They set up a great cooking pot in the center of the village and prepared a feast and everyone was happy. Her father Marusak was gladdest of them all. He told her that they should never have sent her away. He told her that all was forgiven.”

  “Marusak?” asked Alaana.

  “Hur!” said Balikqi. “You’re a clever girl. Or at least you know how to listen. Yes, Marusak.

  “Two things happened at that moment. One was that Aisaac appeared, screaming out his wife’s name. The other was that Higilak remembered her father was dead.

  “She opened her eyes. She was embracing a corpse, his body wooden and dry with the cold-rot. Eyeless sockets dripped a crusted crimson gore, the nose a withered stump, the jaw askew, the tongue a piece of rotted leather. As she tried to pull away her father’s bony arms clung stiffly to her with a desperate strength. She was surrounded by the dead. It was a feast of sorrow, a village of ghosts.”

  Alaana’s breath caught in her throat. Now she realized why Higilak had never finished telling the tale. It was a memory too horrible to talk about.

  “The sound of their dying screams shrieked overhead,” continued the bear, “to mingle with the roar of the rising storm. A pale, pitiless snow had been coming down and Higilak was already half buried. She had not even known. Even now the blanket of snow called out to her, tempting her down into chill oblivion. Madness beckoned.

  “Aisaac called out again, his anguished howl a tiny voice nearly lost amid all the tumult and bluster. But Higilak heard.

  “A blizzard whipped up around them as Beluga Killer’s ghost arrived. He had brought vengeance to the village a full year earlier, trapping the souls of his victims in perpetual misery even though they were innocents, for spirits that want revenge do not consider who it is they punish. He would never free them until he had the last, the girl, the one whom they had sent away. Higilak was the true target of his wrath, for which they were all made to die and suffer. They had made a terrible mistake in sending her away beyond Beluga Killer’s reach.

  “The tortured ghosts of her village had welcomed her back, taken her to their rancid bosom, lured her to join in their doom. Now Beluga Killer’s revenge was at hand. The only thing that stood in his way was Asiaac, and Aisaac was no match for that vengeful tarrak. Cornered and on the verge of a horrific fate, Aisaac reached out to the glacier for help. The spirit of the mountain happened to be a sentimental sort, and not opposed to a new position that would bring it a little bit closer to its neighbor to the west, of whom it had grown quite fond over the centuries.”

  “The glacier moved,” said Alaana softly.

  “The glacier moved!” roared Balikqi. “Aisaac wove a protective iglu about Higilak and himself as the cataclysm roared down from the hills. In time he dug them out, leaving the doomed village and the tormented soul of Beluga Killer trapped under the mountain of snow and ice.”

  “So they came to the Anatatook as strangers,” said Alaana, “And began again.”

  “But there is no such thing as a new beginning,” said Balikqi. “That was not the proper resolution. Aisaac denied Beluga Killer his rightful vengeance. It was a selfish act for love of a woman. It was bad balance. And now you see the ultimate result? It has created this trouble for us. Over time his mistake has grown to endanger us all. The glacier must be moved back into place.”

  Alaana shook her head. “Why not simply move on?”

  “We cannot leave this place!” Balikqi’s black lips parted across huge pointed teeth. Though old and yellowed, Alaana could well imagine the violence those teeth had wrought over the years. She saw them locked across the throat of a wolverine as they closed down and crunched on bone, snapping it, breaking its neck with a quick flash of teeth and a snarl of rage. Balikqi snorted. “Hmmmpff. This can’t be fully explained even to you. We must keep our secrets and our destinies, we bears of the glacier, but one more thing I will show you. Then you will understand.”

  Balikqi led Alaana to a peculiar opening in one of the tunnels. The outer surface was cut in the shape of an oval and slightly pointed at the sides, while the inner portion was circular. In this way the tunnel opening had the look of a great eye.

  “We are bound to this place now and forever. I will show you. Behold. This is the Heart.”

  The sheer enormity of the next chamber so overwhelmed Alaana it nearly drove her to her knees. At the heart of the glacier was a vast sculpture gleaming in diamond-faceted brilliance. It was a wonderful cathedral of ice, a tableau as large across as the entire winter settlement of her people.

  Its roof was a great inverted bowl, perforated with openings which allowed light to enter in patterns that marked the constellations. Aagjuuk, the Two Sunbeams; Qimmiitt, the Five Dogs; Tukturjuit, the Caribou; Nuuttuittuq, the North Star. They were all there. Alaana stared up in amazement at the Aurora Borealis, trapped on the ceiling in ripples of carved ice. It seemed alive, showering the work below with bands of green and yellow light that shifted from moment to moment.

  Alaana’s eye was drawn slowly from place to place. All of creation seemed to be represented in the vast sculpture, every land bridge and lake, each mountain and glacier, every landmark in the northland with which she was familiar. All of Nunatsiaq, the beautiful land in which they lived, and much beyond. All of humanity, every aspect of endeavor, pain, suffering, every dream and aspiration shone in the ice. These were portrayed in the abstract rather than the actual, geometric shapes and dalliances that suggested ideas rather than concrete images but it was all there, as the torch of civilization passed from the dawn of time, from the savage, primal Tunrit all the way down to the Anatatook. And there was so much more. Every type of animal that graced the tundra or had ever lived, every spirit and specter. From Sedna at the bottom of the sea to the Moon Man in the sky. It was too much to look at.

  Alaana settled for the familiar, tracing the outline of Big Basin as depicted in the Heart. And looking clo
sely, she saw a thin, curved line inscribed in the sculpture. She realized this line represented the caravan of Anatatook sleds that was at this moment crossing the ice on their way to the summer camp. How was that possible?

  “As the day passes,” announced Balikqi with reverence, “the light changes hue. The Heart tells a different story with each different color.”

  The prospect of all she could learn from this place made Alaana lurch dizzily. What she saw now was only a fraction of the tale, that which was told through the dull orange of sunset. And even that she could not fully comprehend. What secrets might be revealed in the amber shades of morning, the purples of evening, or as lit by silvery moonlight?

  Alaana had never imagined such a secret treasure existed in the vastness of the icelands. That it had been revealed to her was a sign of incredible trust. She wanted to express the deep sense of reverence she was feeling, but even the eloquent language of the shamans lacked words capable of properly framing such a concept. The truth of existence was laid out before her and she was only able to comprehend a tiny fraction of its mysteries. She might spend a lifetime studying this cavern. Or perhaps, she could stop here, frozen in place as if made of ice herself, lost in the wonder of the sculpture forever.

  She did not want to look away.

  She felt a heavy paw fall warmly on her shoulder. “Come. We have work.”

  Immediately she was distracted by yet a new wonder. The arcane passages that allowed for the light, or perhaps other channels unseen, also permitted gusts of wind to enter the cavern. As they did, a hauntingly eerie sound was created.

  “That sound…”

  “The music of the Heart.”

  The faint melodic whistling made a strange and glorious music, a magical tune that seeped into her consciousness, sparking feelings of joy and wonder. But it was so distant and faint, this music of the Heart.

  Alaana centered herself. With a surge of concentration, she reached out through the roof of the dome. Somewhere, everywhere, her guardian spirit Sila, the Walker In The Wind was waiting outside. Alaana called out to him, begging his indulgence in this small thing.

  A moment later the power of Sila was demonstrated in a great blast that surged into the cathedral from every side. Its powerful music rang through the Heart, warming the soul of every bear within its icy walls as the ice mountain sang its incredible song.

  “Glorious!” roared Balikqi. Smiling broadly, the old bear’s face was transformed. His expression appeared both playful and menacing at the same time. His eyes shone. He clapped Alaana on the back. “I thank you for that, my friend. I have made preparations. Tonight, when the Moon is high you’ll see. Now we eat! Blubber and berries!”

  “Savoq-niarpok-autdlarpoq.

  “Savoq-narpok-autdlarpoq.

  “Karpoq-narpok-autdlarpoq.”

  Alaana felt Balikqi’s incantation as a deep rumbling at the back of her skull. The meaning of the words she knew. Will-endeavor-to-go-away, will-make-go-away, has-made-go-away — but she had no idea what the chant was meant to reveal.

  Alaana and Balikqi floated once more in the air atop the glacier. Overhead, the sky was the impenetrable black of the pole, sprinkled with stars. The full Moon washed the scene in a tide of brilliant moon-glow. All the bears of the glacier were assembled on the ice plain below, their snouts raised to the night sky.

  The polar bear shaman raised his forelegs to the heavens and offered one final exhortation.

  “Autdlarpoq!”

  The curtain of night parted like a thick black fog.

  Suddenly an immense and complex web was revealed, a lattice of psychic energy stretching all the way to the Moon. The ethereal fibers, illuminated in silver-blue, reached downward again toward the distant glacier at the horizon. At first Alaana could see only the main trunks arcing across the sky. But as the stars themselves were drawn aside, all the lesser, more subtle fibers appeared.

  “It’s so beautiful…” she said. And it was. The sky was filled with a vast and intricate tapestry, constructed of glimmering lines of psychic force. It was a pattern similar to a spider’s web extending across the very vault of the heavens themselves.

  “This web will enable us to direct the cosmic forces,” said Balikqi. “I have long worked at weaving this spell, bit by bit, a finger’s breadth at a time. Sixty years, with Aisaac’s help. This is my life’s work.”

  Balikqi spoke these words in a solemn tone. Alaana noticed a subtle nuance to his phrasing, a suggestion that the white bear’s life itself, along with his life’s work, was due to come to its completion very soon.

  This revelation held an even deeper meaning for Alaana. For this was the answer to the riddle that had plagued her for most of her life. This was the answer to the question of where Old Manatook had gone on his long sojourns to the northlands and what he had been doing there. The shaman’s most recent absence of several years had been spent on this very spot weaving the web with his master Balikqi. So intently had they worked that Old Manatook had not even paused to send word back to her until Alaana’s ultimate time of need, when he had finally returned to the Anatatook, leaving this work unfinished.

  “Now is the moment,” said Balikqi. “All the celestial spheres are in alignment. They pull on the Moon, adding their weight to the lever. It must be now.”

  “I…” said Alaana, “I am not Aisaac…”

  Balikqi brushed aside Alaana’s notions of inadequacy. “Even better yet! You are young and strong. Together we will be able to move the mountain, I am sure of it.”

  Alaana was not so sure, but she fought to keep skeptical thoughts at bay.

  “Harrnh! You think I am a crazy old bear, I know. But this we can do, for we have help. My great friend Tornarssuk is there.” Balikqi pointed a long black claw at the surface of the Moon. “Tornarssuk, master of the earth, has come out from his Crystal Cavern to aid us.”

  Alaana considered these words carefully. The spirit guardian of the polar bears would be a powerful ally indeed.

  “He is there,” said Balikqi, with his pointing claw silhouetted darkly against the Moon. “When he adds the weight of his mighty sinews to our cause, it will be done. Come now, I will show you how to concentrate. There’s a certain pattern of breathing to it. Once we have brought ourselves in tune with the Moon’s pull, you’ll see how easy it all is.”

  It was anything but easy. For all his bluster the old shaman was in fact weak and dying, and had cheerfully overestimated his own abilities. He served here as little more than instructor and guide. Alaana lent her force of will to the task as she was shown, certain that her own efforts were as nothing compared to the monumental undertaking Balikqi had set for them. Slowly, she expanded her consciousness outward and upward, feeling her way along the power lines Balikqi had so artfully constructed over the years to bridge the distance from earth to the Moon.

  Balikqi called out, “Remember, we are not moving the glacier. We are simply lifting its weight a little and asking it to move. That is the key. The spirit of the mountain must answer the call.”

  Yes, thought Alaana, it’s a simple thing after all. We are merely nudging it awake. She had only to pull at the mountain, while Balikqi made his request. The eloquence of the old bear would surely win the day.

  “Brother Ice,” said Balikqi, making his solemn appeal to the mountain, “My friend. How many lonely nights have we shared, here under the pale Moon, you and I? How many seasons of light and dark? A hundred years? You have shared all my life, my triumphs and tragedies. You know my burdens. How many stories have I weaved for you while I made my web in the sky? Just you and the old bear and the Moon. Tornarssuk waits there, on the Moon, the great white bear who watches over us all. He sees his charges suffer, he sees my cubs go hungry in our dens. But all can be made right again. You know what I need. I ask only a twitch, a shudder of your massive shoulder. A simple thing. My young friend will show you the way. A very small thing.”

  The bear turned to Alaana and said, “Lift, Alaana. L
ift! Lift him up. He’ll move.”

  Thus inspired, Alaana sent the full measure of her will along the tendrils of force that led from the Moon back down to the distant mountain. She tugged at the glacier using the very Moon as a lever, but felt no give from the mountain in return. She cried out, straining to the utmost, from tendril to shoot to main line. Her inua pulsed forward, as blood flows through an artery, drawn upward by the beating of a vast celestial heart.

  And that heart was Tornarssuk, the spirit guardian of the polar bears. As Alaana was drawn toward him she felt the power gathered there, the commanding will of the turgat, the incredible strength of his sinews, crackling with white-hot power. Alaana’s nostrils flared with the intense musky scent of the great polar bear in the sky who had lived a million years. She felt the unrelenting pull of the tide, the tireless strength of a force of nature, the patience of the infinite.

  And even so, she felt a greater strength coming from the Outer Darkness, the pull of celestial bodies in alignment reacting to the perfect symmetry of Balikqi’s great equation.

  A simple thing. They heard the sound of the world tearing itself apart and then falling back together again. The mountain slid a little bit to the left.

  Success!

  The connection severed abruptly. Alaana had not prepared herself for it, and she felt her inua plunging in a free fall. Dropping away from the Moon, she caught a fleeting glimpse of Tornarssuk, a gigantic pearl-white silhouette against the dusky gray surface of the Moon, tongue lolling playfully between his massive teeth, his liquid black eyes appearing as twin night skies adorned with their own constellations of shimmering stars. Exhausted from his own efforts, the guardian spirit could not even lift a paw to aid the young shaman.