Polar Boy Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  Blurb

  Logo

  Maps

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Other Books by Sandy Fussell

  “The ancient ones whisper to me, Iluak,” Nana says.

  “They talk about you. They say a bear is waiting.”

  In the land of snow and ice, where the midwinter sun doesn’t rise and it’s black all day, Iluak is afraid.

  But he’s not afraid of the darkness. No one here is.

  He’s afraid of whiter things.

  CHAPTER 1

  ILUAK, THE NOT SO BRAVE

  Krash.

  Klunk-tunk. Konk.

  Tunk.

  There are no words in my language to describe tripping over a fully laden sled and landing nose first in the snow, with a cooking pot on your head. But that’s the sound it makes. The noise skids across the ice, slicing through the night to touch the arctic sky.

  I’m not afraid of the darkness. No kid is. Midwinter, the sun doesn’t rise, so it’s black all day. Perfect for hide-and-seek.

  I’m afraid of whiter things. In the distance, two dim shapes raise their snouts to the sound and sniff. On the second sniff, they turn in my direction.

  Untying my sealskin trousers, I try to hurry. A moment ago, my full bladder was screaming for release. Now it clamps tight and refuses to budge. It’s hard enough to pee in the freezing cold, but even harder with two polar bears heading towards me.

  The gloom blurs the lessening gulf between us. Crossing the snow with great lumbering strides, it won’t be long until they’re here. A healthy bear runs faster than a man.

  I imagine long, bladed claws and black, glittering eyes.

  Hurry up, Iluak, I tell myself. Hurry. Please. Why did I have to drink three cups of lichen tea before I went to bed? Cold wind slaps me in the face and my body finally listens. Yes. A warm hiss of urine puddles in the snow.

  Minutes away, the bears stop to sniff the new smell on the wind.

  Fumbling with my trousers, I dash to the igloo entrance. I’m the fastest mammal on ice as I scramble into the tunnel. Eventually, the bears turn away, searching for new movement. I crouch, waiting for my heart to stop pounding before I sneak back into bed. I’ll be in trouble if anyone finds out I’ve been outside.

  Our igloo has only one room so I need to be very quiet. Luckily, my sleeping space is beside the tunnel entrance. I lift the flap.

  “Where have you been?” Papa’s voice is heavy with sleep but his senses are wide-awake. My father is a great hunter. He could track and kill a giant musk ox with his eyes closed. A thirteen-year-old boy doesn’t stand a chance.

  “Sorry,” I mumble, pointing to my hastily tied trousers. “I had to go.”

  “You know you’re not allowed out alone on the ice at night.” A blizzard builds across Papa’s brow. Although it’s warm inside our igloo, I shiver. My father never hits me. For one thing, it wouldn’t do any good. We wear so many layers of clothing, there’s nothing to fear in the slap of a parent’s hand. Still, when Papa raises his voice in anger, even the pack ice trembles.

  “You know it’s dangerous out there.” Mama is angry too, her face wrinkled with worry.

  Lamp fat sizzles and splutters. They’re all awake now. The pale light illuminates the faces of my family – my aunt, uncle, mama, papa, sister and grandmother. Angry, but caring faces. Skin weathered by hard years travelling over ice, chasing the bowhead whale to its summer waters.

  Only Massak is still asleep. My baby cousin can dream through a snowstorm of loud voices. I wish I was the one lying curled up in a bearskin bag, with fox fur covering my ears. Then I wouldn’t have to listen to the nagging.

  “Are you paying attention, Iluak?” Papa growls.

  Beside me, my sister snickers in the shadows.

  “It’s all Miki’s fault,” I protest.

  She grins. “It is not.”

  “Don’t blame your sister,” Papa barks. “Why can’t you use the corner pot like the rest of us?”

  My family wait for an answer. They don’t understand. Miki doesn’t sleep like the baby – she hears everything, even the soft rustle as I wriggle out of my sleeping sack.

  “She laughs,” I mutter. “I can’t go when she laughs at me.”

  Aunty giggles and my uncle’s eyes dance. Miki giggles too. My grandmother cackles loudly while Mama doubles over, clutching her shaking stomach. Finally, Papa splutters and snorts. His huge belly laugh drops like an avalanche over us all.

  I can’t help it, I join in too. The igloo fills with our laughter.

  My grandmother recovers first. “Shhh,” she hushes. “We mustn’t wake the baby.”

  Everyone stops and listens when Ananaksaq speaks. Wisdom grows with age and Ananaksaq – Nana – is the eldest of our people. She brings great respect to our igloo. He might not always like it, but even Papa does as she says.

  Nana’s face is crinkled like caribou hide, brown and withered hard. But when I bury my head against her chest, it’s warm and soft like newborn fur.

  “None of this matters.” She coughs and spits a splodge of mucus into her handkerchief. “The boy will go out anyway and the bears will wait until he does. Everything says so.”

  Because she is old, the spirits talk to Nana. I don’t like what they say.

  “The ancient ones whisper to me, Iluak,” she says. “They talk about you. They say a bear is waiting.”

  I hope she’s got it wrong. I hope a hare is waiting. I’m not afraid of something that runs away from me.

  There’s a good chance Nana is wrong, especially if the spirits are whispering. When she was younger and not so wise, she went into a blizzard without her parka hood on. Frostbite took half her left ear. When Nana talks about the spirits, I try not to listen. But when Nana says “It’s cold outside, cover up your ears”, I always pull my hood tight around my face.

  Nana smiles at me. “The bear is waiting.”

  “I think that’s enough. We don’t want to frighten Iluak.” Mama tries to shush Nana. But she is not the sort to be hushed.

  Her eyes flash in the lamplight. “Iluak wears his grandfather’s bear claw.”

  “My son is not frightened.” Papa smiles at me proudly. “He is almost a man. This summer he will hunt whale with the other village men.”

  Nodding, my uncle is proud of me too.

  Father tousles my thick black hair. “This is the grandson of K’eyush the Brave, the only man to challenge a polar bear and live to speak of it. Iluak has his grandfather’s blood in his veins and the fallen bear’s claw on a string around his neck.” Papa has forgotten he was ever angry with me.

  But I’m not happy. The claw hangs heavy over my heart. I have a secret: I’m not brave. Not even a little bit. Grandfather would be ashamed if he knew. I am unfit to wear the talisman he gave me.

  Nana beams brighter than the lamplight. “Like K’eyush, Iluak will face the white bear.”

  “Rubbish,” Mama says. “You will all give my Illy bad dreams.” She shakes her finger at me. “Go to sleep and forget what they say. No bear will get its claws on my boy.”

  “He already has,” Nana whispers. “The bear swipes when least expected.”

  Mama glares at her mother and turns the lamp off with a grump, but in the last glow I see Nana staring at my neck. My fingers move to K’eyush’s
bear claw and something warm and sticky. Blood. Grandfather’s claw must have pierced my skin when I tripped over the dog sled. The bear had already swiped and Nana knew!

  There’s so much to be afraid of – bears, whales, the ice itself. But sometimes I think Nana is more frightening than them all. If half of what she whispers about me is true, I’m already dead in my sealskin boots. Nobody will tell stories about me. Iluak the Not So Brave.

  Silence settles on the darkness like soft powder snow.

  Miki pokes me in the ribs. “Psst.”

  Turning over in my sleeping sack, I find her face close to mine. Her mischievous eyes glint.

  “What?” I snap.

  She giggles. “Wouldn’t it be terrible if you had to go again? Three cups is a lot of hot tea to drink before sleep.” More giggles. “Sswsssh,” Miki whispers, her voice splashing like urine onto snow.

  “Stop!” I roll away, trying not to think about it, but the damage is done. My stomach cramps. No, I tell my insides. Unless you want a polar bear to scoop you out, be still and wait until morning.

  Nana cackles softly into her fox fur. There’s nothing wrong with her ear and a half.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ONE RINGED SEAL

  Water swims up my nostrils. I can’t breathe. If I sleep now, I won’t ever have to be afraid again …

  I’m not brave, but I want to live. Gulp-ulp. Splash. I thrash, and splutter my way to the surface.

  “Get up, sleepy head.” Miki holds a piece of ice above my face, the drips trickling into my nose.

  Not even a fish wants to be woken up like that.

  “Stop it,” I bellow, shoving her hard, backwards onto the floor.

  Mama looks up from stirring the breakfast pot.

  “Enough,” she chides. “Miki, leave your brother alone. Iluak, be gentle. Don’t push your little sister.”

  I wait for Papa’s roar, but he’s not listening. On the other side of the room, Nana is talking softly in his ear. Straining to hear what she is saying, I won’t have to wait long to find out. Nana is part deaf and Papa won’t be able to whisper back.

  “Are you sure?” Papa says. “It has to be tonight?”

  Nana nods, drawing a circle in the air. The full moon. Something special is being planned.

  “But we’re leaving tomorrow morning.” Papa tugs his thick beard. “It’s a lot of work for just one night.”

  “Tonight,” Nana insists. Her voice is old and thin, but her authority is strong. “The spirits said so.”

  My grandmother is a powerful shaman – village healer, priestess and prophet – the queen of the ice. At night, when the village sleeps, Nana walks among the stars and talks to the souls of our ancestors.

  Sometimes when she wakes in the morning, she looks like she has travelled a thousand miles. Her eyes are tired and her lips are swollen with the cold. So I make Nana a cup of hot tea. I like the way she slurps it down and doesn’t care if it dribbles from her chin to her coat.

  Nana knows things before they happen. It’s a foolish man who ignores the spirits and Nana. The last man who didn’t listen lost three fingers in a fox trap. “I told you so,” Nana lectured, as she bandaged his bleeding hand.

  “All right, Ananaksaq. We will build you a big igloo today.” Papa does not want to lose any body parts, but even more than that, he doesn’t want to hear Nana say “I told you so”. They’re her favourite words.

  “Everyone must help,” Nana continues. “The ceremony I will perform tonight is important.”

  Oh no. A ceremonial igloo. I want to go seal fishing, not spend all day cutting ice, brick after brick, until my brain freezes over. My groan echoes loud and Nana and Papa turn to find me listening.

  “Iluak does not like hard work,” Papa says with a frown.

  He’s right. Embarrassed, I hang my head. “Sorry, Papa. I wanted to go fishing.”

  “Many hands work quickly. When the igloo is complete, I will take you and your sister out on the pack ice.”

  Nana nods approval. It’s all arranged. I wish Miki wasn’t coming with us, but she’s twelve now and Papa says it’s time for her to learn about seals.

  “Breakfast soon,” Mama calls, lifting the cooking pot lid. The smell of fish and seal stew pokes at our noses. Even baby Massak twitches and opens her eyes.

  “Come sit with me, Iluak. The spirits have sent a message for you.” Nana taps the rug with her story stick.

  I don’t want to listen. It’s sure to be about the bear. But Grandmother’s story stick holds the soul of a great caribou and its magic can’t be ignored. When he was barely a man, my grandfather single-handedly stalked and killed the huge deer. If only I was as brave as him.

  Nana taps again. Remembering the man with the missing fingers, I hurry to do as I’m told. Mama leaves the breakfast pot to bubble. Miki, Papa and Uncle crowd close. Aunty tucks the baby inside her parka and sits cross-legged on the rug next to me. We all wait to see what Nana will draw.

  Her stick scrapes the ice and a long curve sweeps across the floor.

  “What do you see?” Nana asks me.

  Looking at the squiggle, I know where the message wants to go. It’s a bear claw, but I don’t want to hear about bears.

  “It’s a seal’s nose,” I say.

  Nana narrows her eyes.

  “No, it’s not. It’s a bear claw,” smirks Miki.

  Big mouth. I glare at her. “It’s my message and I say it’s a seal.”

  “Are you sure?” Nana’s eyes drill into my head as if she can see what I’m thinking.

  I nod, shaking her stare loose.

  Nana cackles so loud I look up in case our icy roof collapses.

  “You cannot hide, boy. The spirits will find you.”

  Uncle and Papa nod. The spirits must be treated with respect. Otherwise the dead souls will tell the living ones “No more food for this hunter”. And then his family will starve.

  My stomach sinks. I want to catch a seal today, but if I’ve angered its spirit, I might never catch one again. Worse still, my children will starve, before they are even born.

  Nana puts her arm around me. “If it would make you listen better, I could whack you about the ears with my story stick.” Her eyes dance. “But you are like your grandfather so I know it would not work.”

  “It’s still your fault if we don’t get a seal,” hisses Miki.

  I poke my tongue out at her. Maybe the ceremonial igloo is for me. Maybe I’ll be a famous seal hunter and catch two. Or three. Then Miki will have to join in singing songs about me. She won’t like that at all.

  “Breakfast.” Mama clangs the cooking pot loudly to interrupt.

  We eat quickly because there is much to do. Thick stew warms our cold bellies.

  “Time to work,” Papa says, handing his empty dish to Mama. Struggling to button his anorak closed, he burps and pats his stomach. It’s not often our plates are full. “Iluak, I need you to feed the dogs for me this morning. Nana and I must prepare for the igloo making.”

  I groan. I’ve already got too much work to do.

  Papa is not pleased. “A polar boy must learn to handle a dog, and a dog must learn to be part of a family,” he reminds me.

  Our family has six dogs and one of them is mine. Her name is Mush.

  “Mush is good company for Iluak when he walks out on the ice. Just in case,” Mama adds. She means in case of a bear. The one Nana says is waiting for me.

  Nana scratches her back with the story stick. Magic cannot fix an itch but a long piece of deer antler can. “There is nothing for Iluak to be afraid of,” she says.

  Papa slaps me on the back. “My son is not afraid.”

  It’s true. I’m not afraid. I’m terrified. But I do feel safer with Mush at my heels.

  Goggles in our teeth, Uncle, Nana, Miki and I crawl though the tunnel after Papa. Outside, the dogs hear the shuffle of knees on snow and raise their voices loud into the wind. Oof. Oof-oof. When I throw two large chunks of seal meat into the dog
enclosure, the howling dissolves into the grunts and growls of the pack pecking order.

  Mush sees me and her tail thumps slushy puddles in the snow. Her fur is warm and soft, but her tongue is wet and cold where she licks my face.

  “Yuck.” Miki wrinkles her nose. “Dog slobber.”

  Frozen dog slobber. I peel the icicles from my face and untie Mush from her sleeping harness.

  Free, she launches herself at me. I skid backwards, bottom first into the snow with two huge paws crushing my chest.

  “Good girl, Mush.” Miki laughs and doesn’t stop to help me up. She hasn’t forgotten how I sent her flying this morning.

  The village men gather round Nana and Papa.

  Grandmother holds her story stick high. “We must build a ceremonial igloo,” she commands. Her voice drops ominously. “Otherwise darkness will come among us. A darkness deeper than the sunless days of midwinter.”

  No one argues. If we don’t do as Nana says, the spirits will squash us with great frozen feet. Polar bear feet. Someone might even die.

  But I don’t like to think about things like that.

  A shadow falls across the ice as I look up into the face of a smiling mountain.

  “Hello, Finn,” I say. Mush thumps her tail. She likes Finn too.

  The big boy nods. He doesn’t talk much but he grins all the time. Ice-white hair and bright blue eyes, he’s not like the rest of us. Our people have black hair and dark eyes like the winter ocean. When Finn smiles his eyes flash like sun on the summer sea.

  Even though Finn is bigger than the other kids, his brain is only small. He’s the same age as me, but sometimes he laughs and giggles like a little child. Finn is different. Nana says it’s because he fought so hard to be born that when he came out on the ice, he had no energy to learn. She says his body grew faster than his mind, but one day he will catch up and outrun us all.

  I think of my friend, brave even in birth. Finn beams and I smile back. Our friendship isn’t based on words. Finn doesn’t know many anyway. He never uses more than three at once.

  There are five family groups in our village so the ceremonial igloo needs to be large enough for thirty people to dance in. Papa measures out the floor space and marks the cross points. Stomping, the men pound the ice with their feet until it is flat and crystal hard.