Beyond Belief (Clan of the Ice Mountains Book 4) Read online

  Yural waved a hand across her face, her spirit necklace gripped between her fingers. Several others did the same. “The thieves’ camp was close enough that some of their dogs might wander this way looking for food. We must keep our three close to camp and kill any strange dogs if we can’t scare them away.”

  “Do you think any other thieves left the camp?” Suka asked.

  “No other tracks led away from the site.” Attu clutched his own spirit necklace. “But some could have left before the snow.”

  Suka gripped his spear and looked out into the growing darkness.

  Chapter 11

  Soantek became ill with the running sore sickness six days later. Keanu refused to leave his side. Within days, she was sick as well. Mantouk became ill the same day Keanu did, and he moved to the shelter set up for Keanu and Soantek. Rovek burned the one they’d set up for Mantouk.

  Nuka nursed all three of them, not allowing anyone else near the shelter. No one questioned her decision. Nuka had encouraged Keanu to place their temporary shelter as far away from the others as possible, and downwind, but still on the beach for safety. Attu was glad the Elder had been so careful.

  Trika and Chonik came daily with fresh water and wood, drawing as near to the shelter as they safely could, staying until Nuka could take a moment to step out and give them an update.

  “It’s not good,” Rika told Attu. “The evil spirits are attacking Mantouk from the inside. He has hardly any sores, but Nuka said he is in great pain and has started coughing up blood.”

  Rika stood at the edge of camp, a safe distance from Attu, but where he could still hear her and they were out of earshot of the others. Why had Mantouk rushed forward to touch the bows and arrows? But Attu knew Mantouk had seen the bow and he’d reached out of impulse.

  “And no matter how much white tree bark powder Nuka gives Soantek, she can’t get his fever down,” Rika continued. Rika and Nuka were almost as worried about him as they were Mantouk. “But Keanu is recovering. She had fewer sores, Nuka said, and has no cough at all. Nuka says the fever spirits left Keanu’s body and she hasn’t needed the powder now for two days. I believe she will live.”

  “And Mantouk and Soantek?”

  “It’s too soon to say.” Rika turned to go. “Nuka says I must gather more white bark to grind and dry. It’s the only thing I can do right now. I feel so helpless. Nuka’s tried the other potions from my healer’s bag that I thought might help, but none have done any good. There’s nothing else I know of to help Nuka treat them.”

  Attu yearned to hold his woman, but he dug his spear butt into the ground instead. “I am building a snow house for our children. Our first as a family,” he said, trying to cheer Rika. He knew how much she had missed living in one. “Soon you will join us in it.”

  Rika said nothing. She stood still, her back toward Attu.

  “Rika?” Attu took a step toward her.

  “I’m fine,” Rika said. She turned enough so Attu could see she was holding herself, her arms wrapped tightly across her chest. “I miss my babies. It’s an ache like no other I’ve ever experienced.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Attu looked at his woman. She was so small, so vulnerable. He ground his teeth in frustration. “Is there anything I can do? Do you have enough meat? Enough skins?”

  “Yes. The only good part about this waiting has been the sewing I’ve gotten done. Once we know the clothing is safe, you’ll see I have made more than enough for all of us, as well as cured new sleeping furs. Rovek has been hunting constantly. He has a cache of frozen meat in a small cave to the east that I think could feed the whole Clan for a moon.” Rika smiled at him, and Attu felt as if his heart would break. “In his spare time he’s trying to make a bow.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing he’s tried has worked.”

  Attu tried to hide his disappointment.

  “If you are building a snow house, I won’t need any more nuknuk hides.” Rika faced him now, and Attu could see how hard she was trying to be strong. “I’m still fine, and for that we may thank the spirits. Go now. Hold our children. Tell them their mother will return.”

  “Soon,” Attu reassured her as he reassured himself. “You will be back with us soon.”

  Attu woke the next morning in their new snow house. As he opened his eyes, it was as if he’d stepped back in time to when they’d lived on the Expanse. The crisp clean air of the interior was so much better than the smoky air of their hide shelters. A nuknuk lamp the length of his forearm sat on a flat rock in the center of the house. It was all that was needed for warmth, and the lamp gave off little smoke, just the scent of burning fat, a heady aroma that filled the house and made it seem like Rika was there, cooking him something delicious.

  But Attu was alone. The weight of all his worries fell on him as he remembered, and the moment of joy was gone. He prayed, as he had been doing constantly, for the safe return of his woman, well and whole, and for the healing of Keanu, Soantek, and Mantouk. He asked Attuanin to guard Rovek, to keep him from the sickness, and he prayed the same for all of his people. And, as his mother had instructed, Attu prayed for the spirits of the thieves, that they would be able to go Between and wouldn’t be forced to roam the Here and Now searching for a body to enter.

  Attuanin, keep us safe from wandering spirits of sickness. Pluck them from the air and drown them in your deep waters. Thank you. Two of the four bands of thieves are now dead. I pray the others are far away from here and they stay away. But I must keep watch.

  Attu reached to the mind of a nearby hawk and searched the area for thieves. There were none.

  Satisfied, Attu swung his feet off the sleeping platform. The blocks of ice that made their beds were set around the edge of about half the snow house’s exterior wall, curving with the circular design of the house and at a good height for sitting during the day and crawling up onto to sleep at night. The cold air fell to the floor, making the raised sleeping area warmer. Attu shivered now as his bare feet touched the freezing ground of the shelter’s floor. It had been scraped clean of snow, but Attu had no extra hides to cover it. And the nuknuk lamp had gone out while he’d flown with the bird. The snow house was chilling fast.

  “Rika would never let that happen,” he said aloud. “That is why she is keeper of the fire and not me.”

  He glanced around the new snow house. The other half held the cooking and storage areas. They were almost bare. Attu knew Rika would fill them with the new clothes she’d made. Yural had given Attu her old nuknuk lamp after Attu found theirs cracked from the fire. The storage niches now held the rock utensils and bowls salvaged from the ashes. The knives needed new handles. Attu’s ice bear teeth had also come through the fire, darkened but not damaged. I can make new tools from them as well.

  Attu checked the interior walls. The snow was hard-packed, no chinks, and the shape was holding well. All was ready for his family. Soon, he worked to reassure himself as he had reassured Rika the day before. Soon. He moved to the storage area and picked up his ice bear tooth spear point. It was undamaged. Attu put it back. I thought I had the best weapon in all of Nuvikuan-na. Until the Nukeena came with their iron ones. And now the thieves’ bows and arrows make even the iron weapons insufficient...

  Attu crawled out the tunnel door. Suka was nearby, wrapping rope into coils, fastening it with small pieces that could be released with a single pull.

  “Is it time to hunt again, Cousin?” Suka asked. “I’m ready for some fresh nuknuk.”

  “We are low on meat,” Attu agreed, “since we can’t eat the mountain of game Rovek has stored yet. First, let me check on my family. Then we’ll discuss the hunt.”

  Attu walked to Meavu’s shelter, where Farnook was helping her with the twins. They were the third pair taking on the task, and although it felt to Attu like his children were being passed around like little hide balls, they seemed to be thriving with all the attention.

  “Your daughter rolled,” Farnook announced upon Attu�
�s arrival. “She fussed and fussed and then she pushed herself with her arm and over she went.” She grinned at Attu. “Her brother was lying beside her, and I swear he saw her do it and would not be left out. He began fussing as soon as she rolled, and he squirmed and twisted like a small fish caught in a net until he managed to roll, also.” Meavu handed Attu his still-wriggling daughter. “You will have your hands full when these two get older and begin competing with each other to see who is best at whatever they’re doing.”

  Attu sat beside Meavu’s fire. “Perhaps your son and mine will be like Suka and I were.”

  “You still are, Brother.” Meavu grinned at him.

  “How is your son?” Attu said. It felt good to be teased again. Almost like old times, when he didn’t have so many worries.

  “He’s fine. Sleeping. Which he does most of the time, unlike your two.” Meavu tightened the flap on her door. Attu felt the draft coming under the skins.

  “Move into my snow house for the next few days until Rovek can come back. Or let us build you one.”

  Meavu shook her head. “I’m fine. I’ll stay the short while until Rovek returns. Then he’ll build us a strong snow house, and we’ll move into it together.” Meavu’s voice had grown wistful. Attu understood. She turned away from him, placing another log on the fire. The shelter warmed. Attu decided not to press the point, even though he knew Rovek would prefer his woman stay with her brother.

  Attu reached for his son, holding his children feet to feet as he had done the day of their birth. His daughter wiggled her toes under their shared fur, accidently tickling her brother. He squealed with delight, and Attu could barely hang on to his children as he laughed with them.

  “See?” his sister teased again. “They are already too much for you to handle.”

  His daughter wiggled her toes again, and they all laughed with Attu’s delighted son.

  “Look what Ganik made.” Chonik ran to Attu, grinning. He held up a small bow.

  “It works,” Ganik said, running up behind Chonik. He was holding a small bunch of sticks with sharpened points. “I killed a rabbit with it.”

  “Yes, because the rabbit sat still long enough for you to shoot three times,” Chonik said.

  “But I killed it.” Ganik scowled at Chonik.

  Chonik grinned back at his friend. “Don’t be so proud of yourself. You know what Tingiyok said.”

  Attu took the bow. He could see where the wood was already holding the bend more than it should. “How many times have you shot it?”

  “Just a few. They don’t last long. But they’re easy to make, so when one starts to bend too much, I just cut another.”

  Attu could see the bow was no more than a cut branch with notches carved in the ends for the bowstring. “Good work. Keep trying different wood, and if you find any that doesn’t keep the bend, let me know.”

  Attu turned away from the boys.

  “I think some of those wild dogs have been coming close to our camp,” Ganik said.

  The hair on Attu’s neck rose as he turned back to them. “What?”

  “We saw a rabbit torn up beside its shelter hole,” Chonik said. “It was in the grassland between the hills. Ganik thinks a thief’s dog did it.”

  “And what do you think?” Attu asked. A look passed between the boys.

  “I think it must have been one of our dogs,” Chonik said. “The tracks were small, like Tingiyok’s dog.”

  “I’ll ask Tingiyok,” Attu said. “Let me know if you see anything else, and don’t go out again into that grassland without Tingiyok or another hunter with you. It’s too far from camp.”

  Attu turned away as Ganik whispered fiercely to Chonik, “Now see what you did? Why did you have to tell him we’d gone that far?”

  Attu would have laughed at the pair, but what Chonik had said disturbed him. There could be dogs from the thieves’ camp nearby. He would have to warn the others again to keep watch for them.

  Attu crawled into Yural and Ubantu’s snow house, stopping at the entrance to the large circular room. “I bring no evil,” he said.

  “Come in,” his mother called.

  Attu was surprised to see Veshria in his parents’ snow house, busily working on piecing together some nuknuk hides.

  “Then you place them on the floor, hair side up, but you must lift them daily to check for moisture underneath,” Yural said. “If they get wet and stay damp too long they’ll rot, even against the cold of the frozen ground. If you can keep them good through the winter, you can use the same hides for your summer shelter. By the end of the winter, most of the fur will be rubbed off from walking on them, and it will be a simple task to remove the rest.”

  “Thank you. That is good to know.” Veshria used her woman’s knife to cut the sinew she was using to sew the tough nuknuk hides together. She began gathering them, but Yural stopped her.

  “Just leave them here where they’ll stay dry. Ubantu and Rusik will be finished with your snow house by the end of the day tomorrow. Then I’ll help you arrange things,” she paused, “if you want me to?”

  “Yes,” Veshria said. “And I’ll need your help again with the nuknuk lamp. I can’t trim it to keep it burning efficiently without smoking.”

  Yural chuckled. “Most women take seasons to learn the nuknuk lamp. You’re doing well, Veshria, having only lit your new lamp a few times, but I do have a few more tricks I can show you.”

  Attu thought of his own nuknuk lamp and how it had gone out on him just that morning.

  Veshria gave a quick nod of acknowledgement in Attu’s direction and left the snow house.

  “She’s better,” Attu said.

  “The spirits have healed her, and most of the time Veshria is teachable,” Yural agreed. “She still has her moments, but she’s strong, and strong women will sometimes disagree.” His mother smiled to herself as she moved to check on her sleeping son. “She has allowed Ganik to keep the pup, and she’s stopped talking about them carrying sickness. She’s been training it with Suanu’s suggestions. They’ve become friends.”

  Yural adjusted the furs more closely around her sleeping poolik.

  “How is my brother?” Attu asked as he watched her. “He seems to sleep much more than my two.”

  “He is a passive baby,” Yural said. “At first I was worried because both you and Meavu were so active, but your father assures me he was just like our new son when he was a poolik. He said his mother used to pinch him, just to make him cry once in a while.”

  “Why?”

  “In times past on the Expanse, women were told by their healers that a poolik must cry each day to strengthen its lungs against the cold. Ubantu’s mother said he never cried on his own. So she pinched him.” Yural ran her finger gently across her sleeping son’s brow. His little face was darker than her own, like Ubantu’s, with straight thick brows and hair, also as black as his father’s. Yural looked at the handsome babe with adoration.

  “And you?” Attu asked.

  “What?”

  “Will you pinch your son to strengthen him?”

  “That is utter nonsense.” Yural flicked her hand in dismissal as she moved to sit by the fire again.

  She took up the sewing she’d left. “I say a Nuvik woman should know better than to disturb a sleeping poolik. No mother should inflict pain upon her child for no reason.”

  “I remember the time I fell and the bone handle of my knife broke.” Attu shuddered at the memory. The shards of bone had penetrated through the fleshy part of his palm and out the other side. He traced the small pattern of scars on his right hand with his left.

  “Yes. You howled good and long while I pulled out the fragments and cleansed the wound. But you lived. And you healed.” Yural looked at him, and Attu felt the love in his mother’s eyes. He realized, as he gazed back at her, he now understood that love in a way he’d never been able to before he’d become a father himself. She smiled, and Attu knew Yural knew what he was thinking. His mother had no nee
d of mind speech where her son was concerned.

  “Did you need something?” Yural asked.

  “I-”

  Farnook called from the snow house entrance. “Yural, come quickly. Mantouk has gone Between.”

  Yural’s face filled with grief as she picked up her sleeping son and slipped him into her parka hood. She crawled out of the snow house, Attu right behind her.

  Chapter 12

  Trika wept as Yural tried to explain to her that she must not touch her man. “I cannot paint the Between of death symbols on him? I cannot hold his head while all the Clan women wash and wrap him?” Trika looked devastated. “Oh, Yural, I must touch him again. I must kiss him and-”

  Veshria stepped up. “No, you must not,” she said. “ Yural is right. Think of Chonik. You must not allow the spirits of sickness to enter your body. Promise me, Trika.” Veshria took Trika by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. Trika’s hands clenched and unclenched her women’s garment. Finally, she nodded then stiffened as new agony crossed her face.

  “What will happen to his spirit?”

  Attu turned away as Veshria and Yural continued to work to calm the grieving woman. He motioned for other men to follow him. They would have to burn Mantouk’s body as far away from the camp as they could safely drag him.

  “More death,” Suka said, catching up to walk beside Attu into the trees to gather wood. “I feel so helpless. What else can we do? Two other groups of thieves are wandering out there. Who knows when they might find us? Evil spirits of sickness have come into our midst and there’s no place to go. We couldn’t travel right now anyway, with the snow and the pooliks, but I feel like jumping into my skin boat and paddling far away from this place with my woman and child, somewhere I feel is safer.”

  “And we can’t even do that.” Attu looked out over the frozen bay. “There’s nothing else we can do.” He turned and resolutely began gathering wood.

  A few days later, Attu joined his mother at the evening fire in the group snow house.