Eagle Drums, page 11
Next they focused on gathering all the sod. They had purposefully chosen a site that was near a river. They used the river to haul the sod from inland, where it grew thicker and was easier to harvest. They would have the dogs pull the empty boat upriver against the current, running along each bank, guided on each side by the boy and his father, while Mother sat in the boat and steered with the oars. They would then fill the boat with as much sod as they could and float it back toward the ocean to the qalgi, while the dogs happily ran back along the banks chasing squirrels.
With all three working toward their goal, the gathering of materials went quickly, and soon they began building the qalgi itself. They started with digging into the earth to lower the floor of the building, and then they dug the tunnel that would serve as the main entrance. This part went quicker than it did for the boy and the eagles, as the soil here was deeper and looser along the coast. The internal beams went up next, and then sod was stacked on the side to brace the beams for the weight of the roof.
The boy told his parents about the little lemming he had befriended as they worked, and how the lemming had helped him understand how a qalgi could withstand a great weight. He told them of how the knowledge his mother had given him about plants had helped him with that friendship and had kept him healthy during his stay there. Her smile at these stories brightened. And when she looked at him, he felt she truly saw him, and only him. They worked hard, and soon enough the qalgi was finished, a lot quicker than the boy thought possible.
His parents marveled at its mammoth size, and they wondered where the boy would find enough people to fill it. They worried about him meeting strangers, and though they never brought up their own experiences of when they were young, Piŋa could see the fear in their eyes. He had left them before, and they had thought they lost him for good. He assured them as best as he could, taking his time to pack all of the things they suggested, repeating all the advice that they gave him, so that they knew he was listening to them. He promised that if things got bad, he would not pursue the people. But he had to try and follow the Eagle Mother’s directions.
When all was ready, the boy took up his bow and gear, briefly touched foreheads with his parents, and started walking to the places that his second brother had etched into the length of the bow. He told his parents to start expecting people in three turnings of the moon, and then set off, with trepidation, to complete the last part of his journey.
22
FINDING STRANGERS
Fall was arriving again when he set out to find the people who would fill the giant qalgi. The air was becoming cool at night, and the sun was dipping lower in the sky, letting nighttime grow a little longer each day.
Following the eagles’ instructions, the boy examined the etchings on his bow. Most of the images were faded, but he knew them all by heart. He touched the image of the ptarmigan perched in the willow tops in spring, remembering the time his brothers had showed him how to trap them with snares. Each carving was attached to a memory, some good and some full of failure. But the love he had for his brothers was present in every single one. He decided to start with the farthest from his home and work his way back.
He journeyed first toward the place where his brother had etched geese preening in water. On his way, he relied on roots and berries and leaves he could find as he walked, and a hefty bag of dried meat he carried to feed himself. He didn’t have much time to spare and so didn’t take the time to hunt as he went. His destination was a marshy land carpeted with orange aqpik berries and dotted with giant lakes of clear water. He made camp in the lee of a small hill and waited, not knowing what to expect. The calls of migrating birds filled the air day and night. This world smelled of stagnant water and sweet grass. Insects of every kind worked frantically in the air, taking advantage of the animals that were preoccupied, a constant background noise of wings.
He found them when the sun was at its lowest and the sky was sooty. From his hill, he spotted the warm glow of a campfire in the distance. He was afraid at first and began packing his gear, instinct telling him he must avoid contact. Then he remembered those piercing golden eyes and the command that Eagle Mother had given him. With dread, he gathered his gear and began to pick his way toward the flickering campfire in the distance.
When he was close enough, he made out two figures lounging near the fire, one smaller than the other. Cautiously, Piŋa slowed his steps and, with fluid movements, unstrung his bow and strapped it to his back. Then he took his knife and tucked it deep into the folds of his parka so it was not visible. He approached the fire with empty hands, making sure that they could hear him coming by making his steps louder than normal in the crunchy grass. Both figures stood up slowly as he made his way leisurely toward them. When he was close enough, he called out to them. “Greetings!” he shouted, trying to sound friendly and unconcerned. “I come with news!”
They met his announcement with stony silence.
As he got closer, he realized that the smaller figure was a child, a boy by the look of his parka, barely old enough to start using a man’s bow. The other was a man about the same age as his father. Both wore clothing made of goose feathers, finely stitched and pristine. He could see no weapons of any kind nearby, and indeed he did not even see any packs they might have carried. They watched him with bright round eyes.
Piŋa stopped at the edge of the firelight, where they could see him clearly. The older man smiled and showed him his bare, calloused hands. His voice was loud, and he spoke in an odd way, almost as if he could pronounce only one word in each breath. “Come, stranger,” he said, “and tell us your news.” He waved for Piŋa to sit near the fire. The boy sat where he’d been directed and made sure his hands stayed in clear view.
When he was settled, the child reached behind and pulled from the grass a platter that steamed in the air. With a stilted walk and barely contained shyness, the child placed the platter in front of the boy. When he looked down, the boy realized that the platter was heaped with roasted fish, and his stomach grumbled. He didn’t expect such a response. He expected to be questioned right away. Somehow the presence of the food and their generosity made him feel more at ease. Nodding his thanks and making sure to smile, he reached down and began to eat. The man and child waited, amused at the boy’s obvious hunger.
When Piŋa finished eating, he placed the platter on the ground in front of him and cleared his throat. “Thank you for your kindness,” he said. “I come with news that my family will be holding a feast this winter, three turns of the moon from now. You and your son are invited to join us. Stories will be told, gifts will be given, and you will be fed well.”
The man nodded and asked for directions to where the gathering was going to be held. Carefully the boy leaned over and, with the tip of his bow, drew a map on the ground showing where they had placed the qalgi. It was how his father, mother, and brothers shared information—where they were headed, where they had seen something interesting, and the like. It worked well for this purpose. When the man seemed to understand the directions, the boy leaned back and strapped his bow back onto his pack.
“We will be happy to attend,” the man said, nodding to his child. “We will be there with some of our family who have decided to remain longer in this area. Please, stay the night and share our camp and fire.” With that, the father and son settled down on mats of woven grass and soon were fast asleep.
The boy suddenly realized that he was very tired. The warm food combined with the stress of the meeting made him yawn. He quietly took out his sleeping mat and laid it out at the edge of the fire’s light, grateful for its warmth. He lay down, and in no time, he was asleep.
When he awoke the next morning, he was alone. The fire had been carefully banked so that it still radiated heat. All that was left were the bones from the fish he had eaten the night before. There were no signs—not even footprints—that the man and his son had ever been there. Though the boy found this very odd, he still had to trust the Eagle Mother’s orders, and so he did not dwell long on the strangeness. With renewed determination and pleasure at his first success, he started hiking to the next place on his bow.
The area he was headed to was where three major valleys met. Here, two rivers merged and continued north to the ocean. The valleys created a Y shape that spanned at least three days’ walk across. It was a very animal-rich area, both predator and prey, and he was not surprised that the bow told of three separate places here that he was supposed to encounter people for the feast.
The first area was dense willow brush, unusual in that they were some of the tallest he had ever seen. The trunks were almost as thick as his waist, and they towered over him, blocking out the sun as they tangled with one another, fighting for sunlight. He could not see very far in the dim light, and it made him nervous. He slowly worked his way through the odd forest, following the winding river, hoping he would see the people he had to meet before he ran into a bear. He found a low hill, climbed to its top, and waited for the darkness so that he could hopefully see a firelight. He did not know how he was supposed to find these people otherwise.
A few hours later, he spotted a flickering light through the dense brush, a faint glow he could barely see. He made his way slowly through the darkness. When he got close enough that he knew they could hear him, he made sure to make his footsteps loud enough that he wouldn’t startle them too much. When he reached the fire, he was surprised to see no one there. He called out into the darkness, hoping that they were nearby. When he didn’t get a response, he sat down by the fire and waited. Was he in the wrong area? Did they leave? The fire was freshly tended, so he knew they weren’t far if they did leave.
Just when he started wondering what he should do next, he heard a faint scuffing of the dirt behind him. He turned slowly and smiled at the darkness, his hands out in front of him to show he had no weapons.
“Hello! I am looking for a pair of people. I bring news! Sorry to startle you; I mean no harm.”
Two short and fairly plump people emerged slowly from the darkness toward the fire. When they came into the firelight, he could see that both were women from the long parkas they wore made from thick rabbit skins. They stopped at the edge of the light, clasping each other’s hands and leaning forward to get a look at his face. They seemed to both have bad eyesight. Heavy, thick braided hair framed round, dark faces.
“What do you want with us?” the older woman asked.
“I only wish to tell you news, to tell you about the feast and gathering my family is holding this winter. I am inviting those that might want to attend.”
“Why would we come to your gathering? Is it some sort of trick? Do you have proof?” The woman fired the questions at him, while her smaller companion nodded her head.
“I … well. Proof? I don’t know what the proof would be. We will be providing food for our guests, there will be dancing, and singing, and we are offering our hospitality to any who come.” He stumbled through the sentence. “Will you at least let me draw you a map to show you where it will be? It is no trick.” He could feel the nervousness from the women, and it made him nervous, too. But he had a task to complete. “And then I will leave.”
The women whispered to each other and then nodded at the boy. They slowly approached him and watched from a distance as he cleared an area and drew the map showing where the qalgi was. When he was done, he assured them again that he hoped they would attend, but they would only respond with a quiet “Maybe, maybe.” He left as soon as he could, not wanting to worry them any more than he had to.
That night he walked a good distance from their fire and found a small hill to sleep next to. He would be paranoid, too, if he had to live in that dense brush. With their bad eyesight, they probably couldn’t see very far around them. He hoped the women would come. What if they didn’t? What would the Eagle Mother do if no one showed up? His stomach ached the more he thought about it, and he had to stop and drink his fill of water till the pain went away.
The next spot was in the other end of the Y of the valleys. It was a valley filled with trickling creeks beside a wide, shallow river, and deep pools of moving water filled with dense, water-loving plants. Different types of willow brush grew here, though they were of the normal-size variety. This time he didn’t see a fire when he found the people.
He was making his way down the edge of an especially deep creek, when suddenly something heavy hit him in the back of the head, knocking him to the ground.
23
LAST STOP
He rolled his body as soon as he realized what had happened. He came up on his feet and reached for his knife. But he forgot his knife was tucked deep inside his parka, so he squared off, his hands up to protect his face, and turned toward whatever had slapped him.
An incredibly tall man emerged from the brush, his heavy, bushy brows almost covering his eyes completely as he frowned at the boy. A slightly smaller figure stood behind him in the brush. The man stepped closer to the boy, his arms raised in a threatening manner.
“Who are you? And what are you doing in our territory?” the man bellowed at the boy.
“I’m just a messenger! Piŋa is my name. I am here looking for people to invite to a gathering!” the boy sputtered out quickly.
“Oh,” the man said simply. His demeanor changed as he looked the boy over and saw that he held no weapons. The boy could see the man was dressed in nothing but thick, dark leather from head to toe. “Sorry about knocking you down; can’t be too careful around here.” Piŋa quickly nodded. He stood up and carefully brushed some of the dirt from his clothes.
“My fault, too; I wasn’t really paying attention where I was headed,” the boy replied. “Like I said, I am delivering a message. Me and my family are holding a big feast at our new qalgi. We will be providing food for anyone that shows up. There will be dancing and singing and many stories, I’m sure. You and your family are invited.”
The man turned to the figure in the willows and gestured for the other person to come out. It was a young woman, who was almost as tall as the man. The boy had never seen such a tall woman before. She blushed a deep red and made her way slowly toward them.
“This is my daughter. We are camping with our family farther down this valley. We will talk to the rest of our family about going to your gathering. When and where is it?”
The boy smoothed out the sand and drew a map. When the father seemed to understand where it was, the boy stood up and decided that since there was light left, he was going to find a place to camp. They parted on good terms, and the boy made his way toward the last arm of the Y-shaped valley. It would take him longer to get there, so he continued to walk until darkness forced him to make a quick camp in the lee of a rocky ledge.
A day and a half later, he arrived at the area he was looking for. The terrain was flat and wide, with very little brush or vegetation, and hundreds of rocky outcrops that made perfect places for marmot and squirrels to build their homes. In the winter, this part of the valley became deep with snow, and the heavy river that wound lazily through the valley froze into a perfect path for animals to move quickly over. The river itself cut into the earth and created sheer, jagged cliffs that rose high and dark against the sky, giving the area a foreboding feel. It perfectly mirrored the carving on the boy’s bow—a wolf standing in front of a frozen river with sheer cliffs on either side.
The boy had dropped down into the valley and found a sandbar to make a temporary camp. He was trying to figure out how to find the people he was looking for. The images on his bow didn’t give specific places, just general areas. The cliffs were just a landmark. He decided to take the rest of the day and make himself a hot meal. It had been a while since he had one.
He walked along the river till he found what he was looking for: an area where the river split into slower-moving and shallower waters. He could see the flash of fish tails in the deeper parts as grayling jumped to the surface to eat insects. He took a length of sinew and attached a fishhook that he had made from ivory and cast it into the water. Almost immediately the fish bit his hook, and he pulled them one by one to shore. He gathered some dried wood and built himself a fire on the sandbar, excited to eat a fresh, hot meal. He tossed some fresh sargiq leaves into the fire, too, to deter the mosquitoes that had found him, and he speared a fish with a stick of green willow.
He was spinning the stick over the fire when he heard footsteps behind him in the dark. He jumped up and turned, squinting into the darkness as he slowly reached for his bow and arrows. He could make out two tall, dark figures making their way toward him from the far side of the sandbar. When they got close enough for him to see them in the firelight, he was surprised that he recognized one of them.
“Alik,” the boy said.
The man in the black wolf parka came out of the dark, that eerie bright smile on his face. He looked exactly the same as the boy remembered him from their time with the eagles. Next to him stood another man, who was a good head taller than Alik. This strange man wore a parka made from gray wolf skins; his face was long and pointed, and his shoulder-length, thick hair added to his intimidating appearance.
The man chuckled and smiled at Alik. “That is a funny name to pick for yourself.”
Alik shrugged and looked away. Clearly this other man in the gray parka was in charge. Piŋa stood up slowly and smiled a little.
“I am a messenger. I bring news of a feast and a gathering that my family—”
“Yeah, we know. We heard you talking to that tall man. And we have been watching you for a while.” The man walked over to the fish and picked it out of the coals, eyeing the boy to see what he would do. “We agreed to meet you, but I don’t think any of our kind will attend.” He took a careful bite of the steaming fish, not even bothering to remove the prickly fins.
