The Glaciermen #34: Dominoes

Early access prepublication manuscripts of "The Glaciermen"

Hello Dear Readers,

We’re so back! Time to return to the ice and see what happens to Lee and his hapless prisoner.

To all of you who have patiently waited an extra two weeks for this next installment, thank you for understanding. Y’all are the best.

(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 found himself in the middle of a tunlaq raid, trying to fake his way, but sitting on the fence proved an untenable option. After slaying two tunlaq to save a teenage girl, he was forced to take her prisoner to keep her alive. Will his gambit work?

Dominoes

The burning campsite crackled as it belched dark smoke into the night sky behind Lee, casting him and his newly captured companion in long dancing shadows across the moonlit ice. The regrouping tunlaq were busy guarding their captives and collecting the bodies of the dead to be laden onto a coming sled. Lee led his captive forward by the rope binding her hands. The girl, a blond teenager no older than seventeen, tugged against the rope, reminding him that she was not a willing captive, but she went still as their approach was noticed by one of the tunlaq.

The dialect of the tunlaq hunters was gruff and simplistic, and Lee was suspicious that at least half of the sounds coming out of their mouths were merely grunts rather than actual words. He guessed it had something to do with extended use of the godseye diminishing their capacity for language, but he could not reconcile this hypothesis with the articulate verbiage of the shaman. Nevertheless, the rough dialect made it difficult for him to understand the comment of the nearest tunlaq as he approached.

What Lee could gather amounted to little more than, “Give… girl.”

“No time to waste, kiddo,” the bear spirit said, “Better start weaving your tale. And don’t use big words. That might make him angry.”

“She is mine,” Lee said, lowering his voice slightly and standing up more squarely, making no move to hand over the rope lead.

The tunlaq’s forehead wrinkled with confusion and indignation.

“She belongs to all. Give the girl,” he repeated.

“No,” Lee said, “I captured her. She is mine to take.”

The tunlaq grimaced and made a sound akin to a low growl, which attracted the attention of others. He lowered his spear toward Lee.

“You must give. It is our way—”

A new voice, proud and sharp, silenced him before he could finish.

“Quiet, Taqtu! It is the Adopted One’s first hunt, and he is new to our patterns.”

The voice belonged to the shaman, who had approached seemingly out of nowhere. He turned his attention to Lee. The caribou skull mask still unnerved Lee, but he forced his face to stay flat and emotionless as the shaman spoke.

“Tell me Adopted One, why do you withhold this girl from the others?”

“She is strong,” Lee said, “She killed two tunlaq brothers when I found her. She should not be allowed with the others. She may cause trouble. Plus, I have already claimed her as my own.”

The shaman paced close, walking around Lee and the girl, inspecting her. 

“She does not look like much—thin, pale, narrow bones—but I see a fierceness in her eyes. Still, your witness must be confirmed, you understand, for the others. Where did you see this happen?”

“Around the other side, just outside the campsite, toward the rising moon,” Lee said.

The shaman turned to the tunlaq hunter, who still held his spear out toward Lee, and, effortlessly switching to the rougher dialect, commanded him to inspect the site. After a second of hesitation, the tunlaq hunter ran off. Twenty seconds later, he returned.

“Tell us, Taqtu” the shaman commanded.

“He speak truth,” Taqtu said, clearly disappointed, “Two dead brothers under the rising moon. Throats slit and stabbed. Lifeblood spilled on ice.”

“Well, well, well, now I am truly intrigued,” the shaman said, “I see why one such as you has interest in this girl, Adopted One. Offspring could promise great potential… you can keep her. I allow it.”

Taqtu snarled with disappointment, but went silent as the shaman cast him a sharp glance. There was something in the shaman’s tone that Lee did not like, as if he was aware of more than he was letting on, but the plain meaning of his words signaled that Lee’s plan was working, at least for now, so he had no choice but to continue the gambit.

“Thank you, great shaman. I am pleased that you approve,” Lee said.

The shaman cocked his head at the flattery, then turned and was off, somehow managing to disappear again amidst the blue hunters as they began loading the sled with the corpses of those who had not survived.

• • •

The trek was arduous for the captives, worse even than it had been for Lee and the flight passengers years before, as this time they were exposed to the open night air and freezing winds. A few died on the way to the tunnels, mainly those who did not have their coats, having been rousted awake by the raid while still wrapped in sleeping bags. By the time the group reached the entrance to the ice tunnels, only a half dozen of the European captives were still alive, including the bearded bald man who had attacked Lee. He was European, but he did not look quite like the others. He was broader and taller, with thick limbs, and there were hints of tattoos visible on his neck beneath his collar. 

I’ll call you ‘Baldy’, Lee thought, taking notice.

The six Kalaallit guides were alive to a man, but they moved with a dejected resignation that showed they knew something of the nature of their situation. As soon as the group had begun moving through the tunnels, most of the tunlaq slinked off into side passages, leaving only a small contingent of guards to manage the prisoners. Taqtu, the tunlaq hunter who had questioned Lee earlier, was among them, taking up the rear guard. The shaman was nowhere to be seen.

Lee walked near the back of the group, leading his own captive along by the rope. She seemed to be doing okay for now, as far as he could tell. His thoughts had been flying non-stop since the trek began, and he was beginning to worry. The coating of godseye on his skin was starting to dim again, as it was feeding on crowberry juice rather than blood, and he could no longer sneakily apply more now that he had a high profile captive. Aguta’s plans did not account for taking a prisoner, and the diminishing effect of the stale godseye meant the voice of the bear spirit would be no help either. He would have to improvise.

He looked around as he thought, watching the hapless prisoners. Their breath fogged in front of their mouths in the frigid air as they marched downward through the blue-lit ice tunnel toward their inevitable doom in the freezing pit. Baldy was walking tall among them, head held high and proud. His hands were bound.

He must have gotten at one of them if they tied him up like that…

Lee counted the guards. Seven. Too many—even if he somehow freed Baldy. He looked ahead down the ice tunnel and saw that they were approaching a fork. He would have to do something soon. He could probably get away with taking his prisoner and simply walking down the other tunnel confidently. With the shaman gone, he could pretend he had the authority to make such a decision. The real problem was that he did not know this section of the tunnels. They were like a labyrinth, and with near certainty he could predict his demise as he ended up lost and freezing to death along with the girl he was trying to save. Not a good plan.

But if he stayed with the group, they would notice his fading godseye and get suspicious, if not worse. Taqtu had been eyeing the girl non-stop since they started. He was probably looking for any excuse to make a move to take the girl, especially one that included a spear in Lee’s gut.

That’s it! Lee thought.

He slowed his pace slightly, falling back until he was nearly side by side with Taqtu. Lee motioned with his head for Taqtu to step closer, but was met only with an angry grimace. Lee glanced conspiratorially at the girl, gesturing heavily with his eyes, then motioned his head again for Taqtu to come closer.

Curious now that the girl was involved, Tatqu stepped next to him. 

The bait is working, Lee thought. Time to set the hook.

“Want to share her?” Lee whispered.

Taqtu’s eyebrows shot up, then his face hardened again before saying, “Not our way.”

Come on, you dolt! Lee thought. 

They were at the fork. There was no time to argue.

“Suit yourself,” Lee said, then stepped confidently toward the other passage, trying not to betray his nervousness as he turned his back on the spear-wielding tunlaq.

He tugged on the rope lead to let his prisoner know to follow. The girl resisted against it, afraid to break away from the group. Lee tugged again and shot her a wink, then, hidden by his torso so Taqtu could not see, he dragged his thumb across his throat before pointing it back at the guard. The girl paused, then gave the smallest nod before following along.

Lee walked without turning back, counting the seconds as he waited for it—for the sound of another pair of footsteps following behind—but it had yet to materialize. He walked another dozen paces. Still nothing. If Taqtu did not take the offer, Lee had just sealed himself and the girl to an icy fate in the endless passages. Ten more steps. They were getting into the darkness of the tunnel now, only faintly illuminated by the fading godseye on Lee’s skin.

And there it was, the soft patter of another set of feet.

The hook is set. Just gotta real him in.

Lee turned around. Taqtu was shuffling down the tunnel from the fork. The ice tunnel behind him was dark, meaning the main group was already some distance down the other passage of the fork. That was good.

Taqtu had made his choice. Lee would not feel any remorse at its consequence—the tunlaq hunter deserved his fate without question—though he was still unsettled. This was another domino set in motion, another move on the chessboard against the tunlaq and the shaman. It would have its own consequences. The question was when, and Lee hoped the timing was within his control.

Taqtu was next to him now, and he looked expectantly at Lee. 

“You first, friend,” Lee said with a smirk, gesturing at the girl. 

Taqtu should have known better. He should have noticed the dimming glow of Lee’s godseye. He should have caught the twinge of resentment in Lee’s voice. He should have listened to his instincts, to that small voice that says, this is too good to be true, watch out! But he was allured by the ancient trap, gluttonous for the spoils of the flesh, and he put his rational—albeit dull—thinking aside and stepped past Lee, exposing his back to him as he reached for the girl.

With brutal force, Lee clapped both hands onto Taqtu’s ears, stunning him. Then he grabbed the side of his head in one hand and bashed it against the wall of the tunnel. Taqtu’s skull bounced off with a hard crack before he crumpled to the floor. The girl gasped at the explosion of violent movement, stepping back a foot, but she did not turn away.

Lee dropped to his hands and held his ear next to Taqtu’s mouth. 

Please don’t be dead, he thought. Another risk. Another domino.

A soft breath tickled his ear. 

“We’re good,” Lee said to the girl in English, “Though we don’t have much time. Hold out your hands.”

He untied the rope around her wrists. As soon as the cords slipped away from her skin she sprinted off down the passage back the way they came, her crunchy footfalls echoing in the dead silence. Lee thought about chasing after her, but she had nowhere to go, so he turned his attention to the unconscious Taqtu.

Lee unsheathed his knife and began scraping the godseye gel from Taqtu’s skin. It was only a thin coating, but it was grisly work. The tunlaq did not bathe, so the gel mixed with overlaid applications of smeared blood from countless rituals as Lee removed it, plopping it into a growing blue-red pile on the ice. Eventually he heard the footsteps of the girl returning. The tunnel was pitch dark in both directions, and Lee had the only source of light around. He paused from his scraping as he removed the last of the godseye gel from the tunlaq.

He pointed at himself and said, “I’m Lee.”

Then he pointed at the girl, “You?”

She hesitated for a moment, then said, “Tyra.”

He nodded, then took his knife and began removing the gel from his own skin.

“Nice to meet you Tyra. I’m going to need your shirt.”

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And that’s it for now folks

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– Xavier Macfarlane
Author, The Glaciermen

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