by Ken Altabef
Manatook sailed back over the top of the ridge and returned to the fissure. He plunged down into the crack, following its twists and turns. At times the way was no wider than a hair’s breadth but that didn’t matter. He kept descending until he reached its end, deep but not nearly far enough. No matter. Gathering his will, he pushed through the bedrock of the world. The cavern of the Lowerworld was not far. Toward the end he felt the strain, surprised at how old and weak he had become. Too long sitting idle in the sky. He thought of Nattillik, the ancient Tungus shaman who appeared as a mere wraith now, his outline so faint he could just barely be seen. How long before he became just like that?
At last he breached the tremendous underground cavern that housed the Lowerworld. He paused a moment to regain his spiritual strength before venturing further. It was still a fair journey to the crystal cavern.
His step was shaky along the forest floor. Old, he thought. Old and damn near useless.
There was no natural light in this great cavern below the earth. Manatook’s spirit-vision revealed the careworn spirits of the trees, which were now dim and practically dissolute. Everything was in total disarray. The trees, once tall and proud, had withered and shrunk, dropping most of their leaves in the process.
The bare branches hung lifelessly. Nothing shifted or stirred in the upper reaches. No squirrel scrambled among the branches, no narrow face with beady eyes peering around any of the trunks. The ieufuluuraq were gone. And every other living thing was either gone or in hiding. The ground spirits — squirrels, voles, snakes —had all gone into hiding, cowering in their burrows.
Manatook had always favored the Lowerworld. It was a place apart, untouched by the works of man. No meddling hand here, just nature as it was intended. The trees seemed to sense his presence as he walked the arboreal lanes. His passing disturbed them and they began to weep and wail in his wake. The sound was almost too sad to bear.
Manatook couldn’t think of anything he could say that would soothe them. No point in conversing with trees anyway. They never seemed to know anything important. He already knew the sad story they would tell. Tekkeitsertok had been the heart and soul of this place. Alaana had described the murder of that noble spirit. Manatook wouldn’t have believed it except for the Moon. Killed by the same hand. So many changes in such a short time. Could one sorcerer, one evil man do all this? It appeared so. One thing for certain, Vithrok had to be stopped.
The gateway to Tornarssuk’s lair was through the cave of ancient crystals. They were its guardians. Manatook found the cave ripped open, the hard rock scorched, the crystals all destroyed. Vithrok had been here as well. He had wreaked havoc on this place, but he had not found the entrance to Tornarssuk’s lair. No one who didn’t already know its location could possibly find it. When Manatook journeyed here, he always came alone.
He stepped to the far wall. A pinprick, a tiny pinprick among a million little pinpricks in the surface of the far wall, the unassuming wall without crystals clinging to it, where no one would ever think to look. Manatook located the tiny indentation and knelt before it to make obeisance to his guardian spirit.
“Tornarssuk, great spirit of the white bear,
Hear me, hear me.
You walk with me through the worlds,
Lighting my way in dark places,
My shield from danger and corruption,
Hear me now, I beg of you.
Oh great lord of the white spaces,
Benevolent and wise,
Wonderful one, best one,
Let me feel your strength,
Let me hear your voice.”
In an instant he was lifted up. A great pull from the other side whisked his soul through the tiny opening in the rock wall, swooping up and down and around in its course through the stone. The feeling was one of complete helplessness, speeding along a course that might lead to destruction at any moment. Manatook was not afraid. He had complete trust in the steady hand of his spirit guardian. The ride was exhilarating and made him feel like a bear cub again, sliding down the snow drifts and rolling at play.
And on the other side, the Crystal Cavern of Tornarssuk.
The cavern was gigantic, stretching up as far as his eye could see, its walls made of blue diamond that sparkled with ethereal light. It was the best lair any bear could ever have desired, safe beneath the earth in the bedrock of the world. Tornarssuk was there, not sitting on a throne or looking down, but lounging carelessly on the ground. His eyes were closed. Overhead, the roof of the cavern glittered with a million tiny gemstones in all colors. The pattern of the stones shifted and moved, creating scenes that played out across the gigantic diamond dome. Tornarssuk was dreaming.
Manatook couldn’t look too long at the shifting patterns of gemstones. He couldn’t comprehend their mysteries.
The gigantic bear shifted, sniffing the air. His huge eyes opened. The sound of his eyelids opening was as loud as a wave breaking upon the shore. Tornarssuk’s eyes, which were deep black orbs that shone with the light of stars, rolled toward Manatook.
“Aisaac!” said the great turgat, his rough voice a fierce shock to the ear.
Tornarssuk’s celestial eyes blinked, and he smiled broadly, black lips pulling back over tremendous pearly teeth. Manatook was struck dumb, to see such an eternal spirit just rolling on the floor, like a playful cub.
“Aisaac!” said the great bear again. “I didn’t expect to see you here ever again. Why aren’t you enjoying your rest up in the sky? You deserve it, without question.”
“Perhaps,” said Old Manatook, his voice an insignificant whisper in the huge cavern, “but I think this weary old spirit has something else still to do--”
Tornarssuk’s head swiveled to the side. He took a few quick sniffs, then drew in a tremendous gust that would’ve shaken an iceberg.
“Is it summer already?”
“Yes,” said Manatook.
Tornarssuk sighed thoughtfully, rolling over and sitting up. “Slept too long. Getting lazy. And I’ve so many things to do. What have you come for? Speak now.”
“I have ill tidings…” He bowed his head. “I am sorry. I bring bad news.”
“Speak.”
“You know my student Alaana?”
“Yes,” said Tornarssuk. “We moved a mountain together one time. She, Balikqi and I. Seemed like a nice young shaman. A woman. Curious. Something very strange about that one. Her guardian is the wind, or not the wind.”
Old Manatook could keep no secrets from Tornarssuk, but he didn’t have to offer information. Tornarssuk didn’t ask about Alaana’s patron directly, and he thought it best to move away from that subject. “Trouble has come to the world above. The Moon is dead.”
“Is it?”
“You didn’t know?”
The bear shook his head as if shaking off a horde of stinging flies. “I slept too long. It was just a nap. Is it summer? The Moon?”
“Dead,” said Manatook. “Murdered by a Tunrit sorcerer by the name of Vithrok.”
“Vithrok… The Truth? The Light Bringer. Oh I remember him. That was long ago, in the dark time just after the Great Rift. In the Beforetime we could choose any form we liked, and I most often took the body of a white bear. After the Rift, the Raven bound me to this shape. I remember Vithrok. He was a hero to his people. Killed the Moon? I don’t think so.
“He was never powerful enough to kill one of the great spirits. Surely not. But he was bold in those days. He had the sight. He fought hard for his people. He was always a schemer, he was always clever, that one. I remember he bullied some of the spirits. He attacked them, Tekkeitsertok and some of the others. He used his men to kill their charges in turn, to hunt them relentlessly. He threatened to wipe them out. Tekkeitsertok was put in an awkward position. He must exterminate the Tunrit to preserve his own caribou.”
The great bear snickered. “But it was simply too much trouble. The easy path was to make a deal. Offer him some souls for food when the Tunrit needed them. And in truth most of them,
the guardians, would have done that anyway if they were asked politely enough. That’s how the Old Agreement was created.”
“An agreement for many,” said Manatook, “but not for you.”
“No. No, I would never agree to something like that, to be manipulated by some little Tunrit.”
“But you do allow men to hunt the white bear. You do provide for them.”
“Like you, I care for men also, even though they’re not really my responsibility. Men have no guardian spirit of their own. They were created by Raven, did you know? But he doesn’t seem to care for them or anything at all, except his tricks and riddles. So I look out for them on occasion. I allow their hunts, so long as my bears fight back. Let that which is stronger survive. My charges show their worth with tooth and claw. As long as the men respect what they take, I have no quarrel with them.”
“You are generous,” said Manatook. “You could have killed Vithrok.”
Tornarssuk snarled playfully. “Oh yes. I could have killed him easily. He knew that. So when he made his offer to me I growled back at him. And Vithrok withdrew. He walked away. The other turgats could have done the same. But their temperament is different from mine. The cloven-hoofed animals don’t have claws. They don’t have fangs. Vithrok took advantage of them.”
“You could have squashed him like an insect, just for asking.”
“That’s true. But the Tunrit were suffering, why deprive them of their leader, their light?”
“And after that?”
“After that he went on. He was a reckless sort and those types always destroy themselves in the end anyway. I didn’t have to do anything to him. He killed himself and all of his people.”
“Not on purpose?”
“No,” said Tornarssuk. “By the folly of arrogance. He brought the sun from the other side of the sky, and when he did that he brought with it a malevolent clinging being from the other side. Time. Time aged his Tunrit and they all died.”
“They imprisoned him,” said Old Manatook. “They didn’t have the nerve to kill him.”
“They didn’t have the will. He was a great hero to them, after all. They put him down into the ice.”
“And now he has come up again.”
“Killed the Moon?”
“Yes, I saw it all from the sky with my own two eyes.”
Tornarssuk gazed at the dome above. “I always liked the Moon. He never bothered anyone. He was a good friend to the people, lighting up their way at night, and a good friend to me.” The great bear sat up. “This will be avenged. Vithrok has gone too far. Arrogant pup! I will bite him in half. All that will remain of him will be a bloody smear on my teeth!”
To witness Tornarssuk roused to anger was not an easy thing. His eyes shone bright red and the whole of the Crystal Cavern lit up as if with unholy fire. A reek of blood and freshly killed meat knocked Manatook’s soul from its footing.
Manatook chose to remain on his knees. “We don’t know where he’s hiding.”
“Hiding? That’s good. That means he’s frightened. Although … it’s not like him to hide. He was never like that before.”
“Perhaps it’s secrecy he needs.”
“I don’t care. Find him, and I will end him.”
“We’ve been trying…”
“Don’t you worry about that. I have eyes and ears all across the tundra. I have two young bear shamans at the Ice Mountain, and they have the Heart which sees all. As soon as he shows himself they will tell me. And I will answer their call.”
Old Manatook bowed his head again. “Thank you, Great Bear.”
“Maybe you should go visit them, my two young shamans. They were trained by your daughter, Alaana not long ago.”
“I met them,” said Old Manatook. “I have to say, I was not greatly impressed.”
“So go yourself and show them a few things,” said Tornarssuk. “I command it.”
“I will,” agreed Manatook though he had little enthusiasm for the task. Now he was stuck being a teacher again. But maybe that was the thing he was meant to do. To help those young bears.
“We hope some of the other turgats will be convinced to help,” said Manatook.
Tornarssuk grumbled. “I don’t need their help or their company. I will see to Vithrok. He will show himself and I will be with you. You may rely upon it.”
Suddenly Manatook felt a great surge of energy fill his weary old spirit. The Great Bear smiled at him, having granted him this gift of strength and renewed vitality. Manatook smiled back. He felt fifty years younger!
CHAPTER 11
THE SEAMONSTERS STIR
With all the younger and more energetic shamans out in the field, the ancients took up a heady conversation inside Nunavik’s tusk. There was much debate as to the motives of the sorcerer in amassing spiritual energy from the turgats and shamans. Some claimed Vithrok was simply a mindless force of destruction. They had seen such things before. Of course this topic of speculation was played up as a great excuse for some of the ancients to embark on long stories about how they had conquered various whirlwinds and demons in their day as the old men liked nothing so much as to speak at length about their past exploits whether anyone was particularly paying attention or not. The vigorous debate however, was suffered to pause each time old Nattillik, the ancient Tungus shaman, had anything to say. All the others had to stop and lean toward the nearly-invisible old spirit to hear what he had to say. His voice was as faint as a poorly remembered echo of a stray whisper.
Kaokortok listened with some interest to the ramblings of the others, though he had no great heroic tales of his own. He’d lived a quiet life as a shaman under the tutelage of the Great Vole. He’d battled no monsters, barely kept himself from starving to death, and ultimately died after falling into a hidden crevasse in the snow.
“What do you think happened to Balikqi?” asked someone.
“He was there in the sky right beside me, a stone’s throw away, and then he disappeared. It was as if he was lured down ahead of the rest of us. But that was years ago. Does anyone know anything about it?”
Nattillik had something to say on the matter so they all had to lean in and listen carefully. “I don’t know,” he said at last.
“Lured down and then disappeared where we can’t see,” said Kaiutinuaq. “It can only be the sorcerer.”
“Then he shall pay dearly for it.”
“But why Balikqi? Vithrok didn’t move against any of us.”
No one knew.
The mystery precipitated another round of speculation and endless ramblings and nostalgia. Nunavik tired of the conversation. Balikqi had been his friend. He had always admired the old polar bear shaman.
The golden walrus was uncomfortable with all these human dignitaries invading his home, most of whom he had no particular use for, and blundered about the place trying to secure his spirit-possessions from meddling eyes and idle fingers.
Eventually he took advantage of one of the pauses to announce that he was undertaking a journey to the bottom of the sea on an important errand, and to instruct the others not to manhandle his exotic shell collection in his absence.
Kaokortok detached himself from the others.
“Can I come along?” he asked hesitantly, as if he were a shy little boy wanting to tag along on a hunt.
“No,” said Nunavik.
“I will help,” said Kaokortok.
Nunavik said, “I’m sure I don’t need any help.”
Kaokortok was unhappy at this reply. His ghostly form sagged within his ragged spirit-parka. He ran a hand through his long, unkempt hair and pulled his thin lips back across crooked teeth in a pathetic frown.
“Can I come along?” he asked again.
Nunavik pushed past him. “I don’t think so.”
Kaokortok wouldn’t let him go. “Listen.” His sad eyes rolled as if he were about to make a difficult admission. “I feel a little bit uncomfortable around all these great and famous shamans. I haven’t anything to sa
y. I don’t really fit in…”
“That’s because you are the worst shaman there has ever been,” said Nunavik. “Ever!”
“Now hold on a moment. There’s no call for that kind of talk. I saved your life, your very soul, with the sigils on the tusk. This tusk! Right here.” He twirled his finger around the white room. “All of us. Here. Safe in my tusk.”
“I’ve always wondered how you managed that. You didn’t create that spell.”
Kaokortok pursed his lips, causing his thin, hawk-like nose to loom large on his narrow face. “I won’t lie. I didn’t create it.”
The walrus’ face brightened. The pink tip of his tongue projected between his tusks. “Aha! Knew it!”
“But I assembled it. From bits and pieces I learned from others. I’m good at puzzles. And it wasn’t easy either. But I am very patient.”
“Good. Then you’ll patiently wait while I’m gone.”
Kaokortok ran his fingers through his shaggy head of hair again, tugging on the locks in frustration. “Fine, but tell me… how are you going to get down to the bottom of the sea? You can’t use the tusk, not while it’s full of these shamans, can you?”
“Alaana wants it to stay here,” said Nunavik. “In her pocket.”
“Didn’t you say Sedna had forbid your trespass?”
“So I’ll just have to be careful. I’ll manage.”
“Risky,” said Kaokortok.
“I’ll take my chances.”
“Why take any chance at all? I said I can help.” Kaokortok tapped the front of his raggedy spirit-parka. “Secret pocket.”
Nunavik’s little black eyes narrowed. “You’re kidding?”
“Why shouldn’t I have a secret pocket? Comes in handy.”
Nunavik noticed familiar sigils inscribed on the pocket flap. “Is that the only trick you know?”
“When you’re good at something, stick with it. That’s what I always say.” Kaokortok smiled across crooked teeth.
Nunavik relented. “Okay you can come along, but just promise not to do anything to cause trouble.”
“Splendid.”
The walrus turned to the others and said, “We’re going. Lock up behind us, and don’t mess around with any of my stuff.”
