The Glaciermen #32: Déjà vu

Early access prepublication manuscripts of "The Glaciermen"

Hello Dear Readers,

I’m all out of creativity for today, so we’re just gonna jump right into the story…

(Here’s the previous segment if you missed it, and the first chapter and index, if you’re new).

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Recap: Lee finally tells Aguta about what happened during the ritual with the shaman nine years prior. Aguta reveals the true motivations of the tunlaq and their dark obsession with creating the most superior tribe by culling the weak, selectively breeding the strong, and securing fresh wombs from the surface.

Déjà vu

The chanting was low and rhythmic as tunlaq entered the ritual chamber from various passages. Lee had been the only one to enter via the tunnel that led back to the chasm, accompanied by a single tunlaq who had been sent to escort him. He was given a spear, then he stood back from the rest, as he  was the only who did not already have the sheen of a coating of godseye on his skin.

‘Do nothing to make yourself stand out,’ Aguta had told him.

The scene was eerily familiar, ringing with memories of Lee’s experience nine years before. This time, however, only two bodies hung from the ceiling over the blood cauldrons. Thawing from the heat of torches below them, the bodies were shriveled and blackened. Whatever clothing they wore had deteriorated to a flaky layer which fell apart and drifted like ash as it unfroze in the heat. They must have been stored in the ice for years. In the front of the chamber, where the frozen mound of corpses had been the last time, there was merely empty air. The shaman’s antler throne rested directly on the ice floor of the cavern. The shaman himself was standing atop of the throne, waiting for the tunlaq to finish filing into the chamber.

He raised his hand, waiting for silence, then said, “Warriors of the tunlaq! Seers of the beyond! Blessed ones of the godseye! We have been fattened by the gift of the spirits. At a time when our own herd of slaves could not be drawn from lest we risk the spread of abomination and weakness, the spirits delivered unto us a plentiful harvest. They placed it upon our doorstep, a great bounty of living offerings, foreigners from the people of the sky.

“But we have grown complacent in the face of such abundance—milking off the teat of this bounty for far too long, no longer venturing out with gusto to renew our supply of offerings—and we have been punished for it! The blood of our harvest is now long stagnant, the spirits bless our visions with ever diminishing luster, and the potency of the godseye is lessened. And now, our sacrifice will be depleted, as we offer the last of this gift back to the spirits on this very day.”

There was a low murmur among the crowd of tunlaq. Lee was disturbed, as something about the way they murmured forced him to reassess. The tunlaq were horrific monsters, yet here they were, murmuring in a crowd. He finally saw them with the eyes of a man, not those of a child, and he saw for the first time that they too were merely mortals. Aguta was right, they were just men, maddened by the godseye, lusting after its power, addicted to its stimulation, willing to do anything to maintain the state it gave them, regardless of the consequences. Lee was overcome with disgust.

The shaman continued. “But do not despair, my hunters, for the time to regain the blessing of the spirits is upon us. The time of waiting is over! The Selection has begun again, and we have our first new initiate among us—the boy who slayed the bear!”

All eyes turned to Lee as the shaman pointed to him with the craggley staff. A raucous cheer rose up from the crowd of tunlaq.

Shit, Lee thought, So much for not standing out. He continued to present himself as Aguta had advised, keeping his face like stone, unflinching. No weakness.

“He is favored by the spirits,” the shaman said, “and their favor will extend to us when he joins in our final offering before the new age! Fortune has once again smiled upon us. Our searchers tell me that a large troupe of surface dwellers was seen near the great waters. They have been delivered to our doorstep by the spirits, just as in the past. All that is left is to prove our caliber—prove that we are still worthy of their blessing, that we can still dominate the weak. Today we rise again! Today we hunt!”

The crowd of tunlaq was shouting now, thrusting their spears into the air and beating their chests. The shaman raised his staff again. The shouting gave way to chanting, and the blood ritual began.

Lee tried to hide his apprehension, forcing himself to focus on the details Aguta had gone over with him. He filed in at the back of one of the lines of tunlaq as the throats of the hanging bodies were opened to spill into the cauldrons. He had to be perfect. If even one of them saw what he was about to do, he would be tortured to death for his offense against the spirits.

The line shifted forward as tunlaq began coating themselves with blood from the cauldrons. Lee readied himself, and just as he had practiced with Aguta, carefully kept his free hand at his side, palm-in and cupped slightly. He was closer now and could smell the sweet metallic decay of the warmed blood in the icy air. The rhythmic chanting continued, throbbing deep into Lee’s mind, worming its way in, calling him, beckoning him to give in to the ritual. To go along with the others.

The call was seductive—it would be so easy to give in, to lose himself in the chanting, in the passion of the moment. Part of him remembered the freedom and power he had felt while high on the godseye. It had been so pleasant, yet so thrilling. Life ceased to be a question and became an eternal present, simple, clear, without concern for the future or the past. It was easy. Easier than trying to forget the pain he had suffered, as he pretended to do for the past nine years in the chasm. So much pain… he could finally just let it go, let it flow away in the streams of color within the godseye. He could escape it forever. He could just give in—

No! He told himself violently, resisting the pull. Remember! Remember why you hate them. Remember who they took from you!

He looked toward the shaman’s throne, where nine years before a pile of frozen corpses had towered over the chamber, where the faces of the dead had stared out at nothing past frosted-over eyes. There had been faces he did not want to see. Faces he did not want to remember. But today, he remembered.

Sandy… my mother… the old man… the squabbling couple… all of them.

He remembered what he had tried so hard not to see, tried so hard to forget. But he was just a boy then. He could do nothing, so he pushed it all down somewhere inside where he could not feel the hurt anymore.

I am not a boy anymore.

Lee was nearly at the cauldron. He recalled Sandy’s face—it was the one he could never forget, not after what they had done. He tried to fill his entire mind with the image. She had been near the bottom of the pile, her neck crooked sideways under the leg of some other unlucky soul. A thick layer of frost had coated her face, her eyes blissfully shut, her lips still pressed together in a peaceful smile, just as they had been when she passed in the killing pit, hoping for a better place.

She was right, Lee thought. Wherever she went, this place is worse, evil, and it’s better she left it behind.

It was his turn now for the ritual. Lee glanced up at the corpse hanging above the cauldron. A glimmer of relief passed through him. It was not her. But the relief vanished at his next thought.

They did this to her, too. They treated her like some kind of crop, to be harvested and defiled.

 A heat began to simmer in Lee’s chest, a burning flame of anger, of righteous rage long suppressed. It swelled and grew, until his entire torso was alive with warmth. Steam began to rise from his chest and shoulders. Some of the tunlaq nearby watched with intrigued looks.

Lee kept his face set like stone. He vowed again to bring forth retribution, but now was not the time for heroics. He refused to simply throw his life away in a rage. He would deliver a killing blow, somehow. He did not know how, or when, but he would find a way. The tunlaq were a plague, a disease to be rid from the world, and he would be its purifier.

 He looked down from the corpse at the pool of blood remaining in the cauldron. With a deft sweep, he dipped his hand down toward it, but instead of scooping a handful of the sticky red liquid, just before his hand touched the surface, he squeezed his fist, bursting the handful of red crowberries Aguta had adhered to his palm.

He quickly rubbed the red juice onto his chest, smearing it around and coating himself. The coverage was not perfect, but he did not allow any time for the others nearby to notice, immediately dipping his hand into the godseye gel and lathering that on as well. He tried to leave it as thin as possible while still producing a sufficient blue glow. The tunlaq seemed satisfied, so he stepped away from the cauldron with relief and retreated toward the back of the group.

Good. Good, good, good. Lee thought. Time to not stand out.

The plan was working. The godseye was glowing nicely on his skin. He had been worried that the crowberry juice would not work to feed it, but he and Aguta had tested it several times, and it seemed to produce the same effect—just not for as long a duration as actual blood, which is why he had a stash of the berries hidden in a pouch inside his waist cord. Despite the added risk of having to reapply the berry juice, both Lee and Aguta had strongly been against the idea of blood, even a substitute such as seal blood. Lee was still haunted by what he had done to the bear cubs when blood and godseye had mixed on his skin, and Aguta feared using animal blood was too similar to the actual ritual and might still allow Lee to be corrupted with its evil.

As Lee found a place near the back of the cavern, the shaman raised his staff again and began an incantation. When he was finished, the chanting of the tunlaq lowered in volume to a whisper. The ritual proceeded just as it had before, and the shaman began to process forward toward the cauldrons as the whispered chant continued..

“Ugh, this is my least favorite part.” 

Lee’s eyes went wide with surprise. It can’t be, he thought.

“Oh, you better believe it, sweetie. I haven’t gone anywhere,” the grandmotherly voice said. It was the voice of the polar bear.

“You can’t be here!” Lee hissed in a whisper.

“Oh, but I am,” the voice replied, “And I can hear your thoughts, you know, so you better stop speaking out loud before one of these blue fellas listens in.”

This is impossible, Lee thought.

“I heard that,” the voice chimed. “And it is very much possible. We are intrinsically bonded together by the mystery of the godseye, or at least that’s what somebody might say if they were making up a theory on the spot. You killed me then ate my brain too, remember? Just go with it kid.”

The shaman had sat down, and now the others were pouring the remainder of the cauldrons onto him. There was not nearly as much blood as Lee had seen the first time, but it was still enough to make a mess.

“They really are into this blood stuff aren’t they? Their spirits must be real mean ones.”

Shhh! Lee thought. I need to focus right now. We’re about to leave and I have to fit in.

The voice stayed silent as the tunlaq spread a thick layer of godseye onto the shaman. When he was glowing brightly, they snuffed the torches so that the only illumination in the cavern was coming off the skin of those gathered. Then the shaman raised his staff a final time, and with a violent, painful cry, thrust it toward the exit tunnel. A blast of bright energy burst forth from the staff and shot down the tunnel. The shaman then sprinted off and the other tunlaq poured after him.

It’s go time. Lee thought, and began running after them.

The voice of the bear was more ponderous. “I do wonder how he manages that lightning trick.”

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And that’s it for now folks

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