by Ken Altabef
“You try my patience!” shouted the Tunrit, but again it was nothing but a bluff.
Erlaveersinioq could not be intimidated. “Die!” it returned, a bloody foam spewing from its mouth.
Vithrok had beaten the other turgats by force but such a victory could not be achieved with Erlaveersinioq. It was a river of destruction without end. Something much more subtle and daring was in order. Vithrok centered himself. He was a sorcerer, a skill that did well against other spirits, but against such a powerful turgat as this? He could never control Erlaveersinioq’s soul. Not all of it, not all at once. But maybe that wouldn’t be necessary.
Vithrok centered his attention on Erlaveersinioq’s slashing tail. He had never attempted to co-opt a portion of a soul, but why not? If he couldn’t take the bull by its horns, he might grasp the dog by its tail.
Vithrok reached out with the innermost of his being and seized the turgat’s tail. He commanded it to strike forward in whipcord fashion. The thorny tail curled around to rake the mighty Disemboweler between its legs.
The attack stunned Erlaveersinioq. It snarled in surprise and swatted at its own tail with three of its many arms.
Vithrok suddenly had a much better idea. He made the tail wrap around Erlaveersinioq’s neck like a leash. He could only make it tighten a little, but as Erlaveersinioq pulled at the tail with its clawed hands, the tail reacted on its own, clamping down tight. The more it tensed, the harder Erlaveersinioq fought against it and the stupid brute was soon strangling itself, its original adversary forgotten.
But this was not an opportunity to be rid of the Disemboweler. For even a dumb brute like this was going to come to its senses and stop choking itself. Vithrok might have pressed with an attack of his own, with the turgat vulnerable and confused, but he didn’t want it dead. He wanted to use Erlaveersinioq later, to help him defeat Tsungi.
He had to act quickly before the turgat realized it was simply fighting itself.
“Stop!”
He released his hold on the tail. Erlaveersinioq scratched at it one final time then stood looking dumbly down at the sorcerer.
“Listen to me,” said Vithrok. “Do you know me? I am the Death-Bringer.”
Erlaveersinioq curled its blood-stained lips into a toothy snarl that said it thought Vithrok was less than nothing. It shook its huge head violently and gathered itself for another assault.
“I am Death!” roared Vithrok.
Erlaveersinioq squinted its massive eyes as it looked down upon the Tunrit.
“Look there!” said Vithrok, pointing to the sky. “You know what that is. The Thing That Was Cast Out. You remember.”
The Thing had recently become visible in the sky as it drew nearer to the world once again. It appeared as a tiny black smudge, still far in the distance, discernable only as an ebon star.
Vithrok was not sure if Erlaveersinioq did remember. It was an incredibly stupid spirit.
The sorcerer went on: “I’m bringing it back. See? It’s getting bigger. And bigger. And when the Black Spot comes, everybody dies.”
Vithrok noticed a flicker of perception in the Disemboweler’s eyes. Erlaveersinioq grunted softly.
“Yes. You like that, don’t you? Hah! You’re even worse than the Raven.” Vithrok nodded reassuringly. “Yes I am the Death-Bringer. I bring the Black Spot. Everybody dies!”
In a monstrous voice similar to the bone-shaking rumble of the avalanche Erlaveersinioq said, “What — what for me to do?”
“You come when I call. You fight when I tell you to fight. You kill. Easy?”
Erlaveersinioq grunted its assent.
“Good boy.”
CHAPTER 31
STRIKING BACK
“The Whale-Man?” asked Alaana incredulously.
“Dead,” replied Nunavik. “I felt it. We all did, in the cavern that he holds secret at the bottom of the cold water. The shock knocked the mussels out of their shells, it blinded my poor friend Buulabaq, and broke my heart.”
“I can’t believe it. Not even Vithrok could--”
“Oh, it wasn’t Vithrok,” said the golden walrus. “No, no. The lakespawn said it was Sedna.”
“Sedna,” said Tikiqaq. The tupilaq waddled across the karigi to join its master. “Sedna and Vithrok together?”
“It looks that way,” said Nunavik.
“The lakespawn?” asked Alaana. “You said they were talking? Are they awake?”
Nunavik’s whiskers drooped and his little black eyes sagged half-closed. “More bad news. Ikik is dead! They came awake. The death of Usinuagaaluk broke them out of their cocoons. They knew it like the rest of us did, that the Whale-Man was no more. But they also knew that the Sea Witch was involved and that she’d unleashed some of her nasty little pets, although these two were anything but little. Giant beasts of the deep, like nothing I’ve ever seen before or ever want to see again. The sight of them gave me nightmares, I can tell you, and they were dead already when I saw them. Our lakespawn swam across the cold water and fought them. There was a ship…”
“The white men’s ship?”
“Yes, it sailed from Old Bea.” Nunavik grumbled softly. “The one that carried Noona and Sir Gekko away after the raiders attacked the post.”
Alaana was completely stunned. She was afraid to ask, but her tupilaq did it for her.
“Noona?” asked Tiki. “What of Noona?”
“More bad news,” said Nunavik. “More and more.” The walrus looked sheepishly at Alaana. “The lakespawn killed Sedna’s monsters, but Ikik died in the battle. And the ship went down anyway. I’m sorry Alaana, but I think your daughter is dead.”
“She’s not dead,” said Alaana desperately. “Did you see her? Did you see her body?”
“There were no survivors. I went up onto the ice. A few corpses of men. I searched all around but saw no sign of her or Gekko.”
“You didn’t see her body,” said Alaana flatly.
“No, but there are many corpses at the bottom of the sea, never to be found. The water takes them where it will. I looked down there too but I found nothing.”
Alaana’s first instinct was to seek the Heart and use it to find her daughter, in body or soul. But then she recalled her last sight of it, the vast sculpture smashed to bits by the hand of Vithrok.
“She’s not dead. Her spirit would have returned here, for the five days, before moving on. It would have come home first.”
“But her husband…?” said Tiki.
“Your tupilaq has a good point,” said Nunavik grudgingly. “Who knows where the souls of the kabloonas go when they die? If Noona was bound to Gekko, she might not return here, to her home at all. Maybe she goes with the kabloonas. I’ve never seen a white man in the land of the ancestors, have you?”
“No, but now Old Manatook and I both have a reason to travel there. And neither of us have the time. I can’t just let this go and do nothing. Out of body, I can search a wide area. I’ll find them. I won’t rest until I do.”
“Alaana,” said Nunavik. “Don’t you think I tried?”
“The tundra is vast,” said Tikiqaq, “and if you don’t mind my saying so, a pointless search is perhaps not the best use of your talents, master. We need you here. If Sedna really has joined Vithrok’s cause… and the Whale-Man is dead… then we have very little time left.”
“The open tundra is too dangerous for you now, Alaana,” said the walrus. “You can’t just race off like a crazy woman. You must be mindful of the needs of your people. One by one the great turgats fall into Vithrok’s clutches. What can you do about it, out there alone? We are nothing to them. We are insignificant. They could crush us on the instant.”
“Having doubts, Nunavik?”
“No, I’m being realistic!”
“We have to fight,” said Alaana decidedly. “There are so few of us left. I’m not going to hide, not from this, not from him.”
“Why not?” said Nunavik. “Hiding is sometimes good. I’m very good at hiding. I’
ve been hiding for a thousand years but you — you don’t even bother.”
“Why should I? We’re insignificant, right? That’s what you said. What spirit should care about us? Besides I’m not really a shaman. Am I? Sedna didn’t think so. That’s what she told me. And Tekkeitsertok wouldn’t ever listen to me, or Sila, or any of them.”
“We both know better,” said Nunavik. “Not that you should ever bother to listen to me, or pay attention to anything I have to say. But listen to this. You, my dear, are important. And that’s why we have to be careful.”
“Vithrok is either afraid of me, or I am beneath his notice. But I promise you, Uncle Walrus, before this is done we are going to find out which one it is.”
Tikiqaq suddenly let out a shrill groan from its seal mouth and a sharp squawk from its raven’s beak. It shook so ferociously, little bits of rotten fur flew from its hide. Its dead eyes rolled upward in their sockets.
“Tiki?” asked Alaana. “What’s happening?”
Growling, the tupilaq scrabbled along the floor of the ceremonial tent as if tossing aside a host of unseen attackers. Alaana looked closely with her spirit-vision, but saw nothing untoward.
In a moment, the glaze lifted from the tupilaq’s eyes. “Klah Kritlaq! Klah Kritlaq!”
“Kritlaq is dead,” said Alaana.
“No!” said Tiki. “No! Kritlaq is here. In Nunatsiaq! I heard him speak!”
“Oh, it’s gone crazy,” said Nunavik, who was not very fond of the tupilaq in any case. “Tell me Alaana, what did you put as a brain in that empty skull of his when you made that thing, a dried-up clam? Or did you forget to put anything at all?”
Alaana ignored the snide remark. “Tiki, what did you hear?”
The tupilaq shuffled back and forth along the floor, making only a few soft mewling noises.
“I didn’t hear anything,” said Nunavik. He glanced with exaggerated attention around the confines of the karigi.
“Hush!” said Alaana. “I created Tikiqaq to slay Klah Kritlaq, the shaman of the Tanaina. I put a locket of Kritlaq’s hair in with the other talismans. If Kritlaq spoke, Tiki may well have heard something.”
“Kritlaq is dead,” said Nunavik.
“So are you,” said Alaana, “and most of the shamans aligned with us.”
“Kritlaq isn’t just dead,” reminded Nunavik. “The sorcerer pulled his soul from his body and devoured it.”
“So the story goes,” said Alaana. “But don’t forget, there was another Kritlaq before him. Tiki, tell me what you heard?”
“Kritlaq was sending a message on the air,” said the tupilaq. “I couldn’t hear all of it, but it seemed he was telling about the wrecked ship. He was sending to Vithrok.”
“Aaccckkkk!” said Nunavik
“Ackk indeed,” said Alaana. “I hope you know where he is, Tiki.”
“I do.”
“Well then,” said Alaana, “I think we’ve just found our first chance to strike back at the sorcerer at last. Good work, my tupilaq!”
Tikiqaq beamed happily.
“Among the Yupikut raiders?” growled Old Manatook. “Are you sure? Where?”
“In a narrow valley between two bergs, not far from Big Basin.” Alaana glanced out along the tundra in the direction of the raiders’ camp then back at the three spirits, two men and a white bear, who stood beside her. “Two days ride by sled, five sleeps on foot.”
Wolf Head snorted. “We travel by neither sled nor foot. We can be there almost immediately. Still, we should hurry, before he gets away.”
“Not so fast,” said Civiliaq. “There may be more to this than we think. Do they have a shaman, these Yupikut?”
“They do,” said Alaana. “His name is Khahoutek.”
“He’s not with us?”
“I didn’t think it very wise to invite a Yupikut into our council.”
“And yet somehow he avoids perishing at the hands of Vithrok,” mused Civiliaq. “What do you know of him?”
“A cut-throat,” said Alaana. “A worthless scoundrel like all the rest of them. He was involved in the attack on Old Bea.”
“His reputation …?” asked Wolf Head.
“Sneak attacks. No great deeds. Some say he’s crazy. His guardian is Aklaqqa, lord of the brown bears.”
“Aklaqqa is gone,” said Old Manatook, “Vithrok took him already.”
“Then we don’t need to fear Khahoutek,” said Wolf Head. “He is without power. It’s likely he’s already dead.”
“Klah Kritlaq is a different matter,” said Alaana. “Tikiqaq says this is not Kritlaq of the Tanaina. He was a weak-willed incompetent, destroyed by Vithrok. This Kritlaq has the yellowed eyes. It’s Kritlaq of the Anatatook.”
“Our Father?” asked Civiliaq. “Raised from the Underworld?”
“Who can say?” said Old Manatook. “It’s not impossible. You yourself were bound there for a time.”
Civiliaq glanced at Alaana, who had freed him from his bondage below. He nodded his head. “We have to assume that it is our old teacher Klah Kritlaq.”
“Fair enough,” said Old Manatook. “I killed him once, and I shall do it again.”
“We shall succeed,” said Wolf Head. “That much is certain. But we must also be careful. Kritlaq was no mere shaman. He was a powerful sorcerer. You beat him once before by hiding your true nature.”
The fight had taken place a lifetime ago, in the middle of the Anatatook camp, in front of all the people. Manatook had been at that time in his early middle age.
Kritlaq carried a short ceremonial knife only. Manatook had a killing blade of slivered bone, long and sharp. Kritlaq was savage with his blade, slashing Manatook across both arms and chest. In those days Manatook concealed his true nature by wearing the flensed skin of a man. When Kritlaq began to lose, he tried to use his sorcery against Manatook by controlling his fighting arm, which he thought to be the arm of a man. He was surprised when Manatook revealed himself a white bear. In that moment of confusion Manatook delivered the killing stroke, sending his long knife deep into Kritlaq’s belly.
“He didn’t expect you to be a white bear, as none of us did. But now he knows your secret, and he will be ready for you.”
“This time, we’ll be there to help,” said Civiliaq.
“We?” asked Wolf Head. “Surely you’re not planning to come along?”
“I am,” said Civiliaq.
“The Raven has abandoned you. You’ve no power. How can you help?”
His brother’s harsh words stung Civiliaq. No one trusted him it seemed, except ironically Alaana. And he had promised to kill her. The torn stumps of his ebon wings itched intolerably since Raven had first made his offer. He hadn’t scratched that itch yet. Still, he wanted to have his wings back, and all the power that came with them.
“I stand with my brothers in this,” he said. “I won’t leave you again.” He’d made that mistake once before, had raced off to fight a fever demon without them, to prove himself better than them, a mistake that resulted in his own death. Not again. “Who knows? Maybe Raven will help me after all?”
“It’s possible.”
Old Manatook grumbled. “Anything is possible with the Raven. His help would be very welcome.”
“I can’t promise,” said Civiliaq.
“I know.”
“But would Raven help us or hinder?” asked Alaana. She shot Civiliaq a suspicious glance that left him to wonder if she suspected the death plot or was just pointing out Raven’s innate fickleness. “Our cause is just, but that means little to Tulukkaruq.”
“It doesn’t matter. I will stand with my brothers,” declared Civiliaq, “even if I am powerless.”
“There is another matter,” said Old Manatook. “In battling Kritlaq, I face an old rival, but you and Kuanak face your teacher. As I remember it, you were unable to help me before.”
“I tried to raise my hand against him,” said Kuanak, “but I couldn’t.”
“Sorcery,” said Old M
anatook. He turned toward Alaana and explained. “Kritlaq was clever. When he instructed these two in the Way, he manipulated their souls. He placed wards upon them, so that they were powerless to do anything against him.”
“It will be different this time,” said Wolf Head. His grubby face, framed by the bristly wolf fur collar of his spirit-parka, seemed uncomfortable and embarrassed. “Kritlaq has been dead for a long time. And so are we. Whatever he did to us has been washed away by death. His influence is gone.”
“Is it?” asked Old Manatook.
“I think.”
“We don’t know. That’s why I think it best for you two to wait in reserve. If you strike first and he catches you helpless he will destroy you. You must wait. Yours must be the blow from the darkness that he will not expect.”
“A sneak attack?” grumbled Wolf Head. “I don’t like it. That is for cowards and weaklings. We can not win that way.”
“Hmmmpfff!” said Old Manatook. “Are we fearful?” He glanced at the others. They shook their heads, uttered denials. “Of course not,” continued the white bear. “Are we fools to rush headlong into a trap? Certainly not. This is simply a point of strategy, not cowardice. Our best way to win. I will draw him out, and you two will remain in reserve.”
“What will you do? Approach him openly? Is that wise?” asked Wolf Head. “He knows your true nature now and his sorcery will work on a bear just as well as a man.”
“Let him try me,” said Old Manatook. “Let him try.”
“What about me?” asked Alaana. “What’s my part in this?”
Old Manatook glanced thoughtfully at his student. His pink tongue flicked against the black line of his lower lip, showing his pointed fangs for a moment. Then he smiled a sad little smile. “You can not come with us, Alaana, though you may want to.”
“What? That’s not fair. I’m not a child any more. You don’t need to protect me. I’m coming with you.”
Old Manatook growled softly. “Sun and Moon! There is no protecting you! You can’t come because you fear Klah Kritlaq.”
