Hannah Ross - The Last Outpost - An Antarctic Dystopia

“Come in,” she said. “You in good time. There are hours until the celebration, but all is ready soon.”

“Will there be time to go to the Cave of Spirits?” Scott asked, lowering his voice.

“Oh yes, plenty time. I take you soon. But first, come in, meet Omrek.”

Ri Omrek was sitting cross-legged in front of the fireplace, darning a tear in the sole of his moccasin with the help of a bone needle and a thin filament of sinew drawn through it. Upon seeing Scott, he got up, smiled, and the two men grasped arms.

“We glad to see you. Feast will be fine. Torn shoes not good to wear to feast, though,” he frowned, shaking his head at the moccasin.

“Leave it, Omrek. These shoes have done their work,” his sister said in Anai. “I made new ones for you,” she went on, reached into one of her storage baskets, and produced a newly-made pair of handsome sealskin moccasins, sleek and shiny and embroidered with colored leather filaments in diamond patterns near the top. Omrek’s face brightened.

“When did you have the time to do this, Tahan, and I didn’t notice?” he hastened to pull the moccasins on his feet and walked around. “Fit so well — thank you! That is a nice winter gift.”

“You’re welcome, Omrek. Will you and Egan be fine here for a while? Scott wants to see the Cave of Spirits again.”

“Sure. You go. Just be back in time to season the mulluvik steaks. I don’t know how to do it right, and we don’t want to be late for the feast.”

“We’ll be back long before then,” Tahan promised and, taking an oil lamp and putting on her parka, she led Scott outside.

As before, once they were within the cave she sat on the floor cross-legged, placed the oil lamp before her, and bowed her head. Scott did likewise, relishing the peace and tranquility of which he had enjoyed so little during the past weeks. The quiet, however, also let loose the troubling thoughts he usually managed to suppress: were his parents safe back home? Would Brianna consent to talk to him again? How was Laura coping, and what were the chances Harry was sent to the frontline? How would McMurdo pull through the winter, and upon what world would the sun rise at the end of the dark season?

When Tahan raised up her face, she seemed to notice his expression, for she frowned.

“What is the matter, Scott? Is anything wrong?”

They were now speaking in a mixture of English and Anai, as Scott has been a diligent student, and passed the previous weeks learning all he could from the Anai vocabulary, as well as going over the notes he had made on the language after his previous visit to the valley.

He hesitated. How much would she understand? The Anai existence was so peaceful, so sheltered. “Tahan, there is a war going on beyond the sea. Do you know what a war is?”

“It’s… when people get so angry they fight and kill each other? We had that in the valley some generations ago. The Ne clan fought the Ro clan, and ten men were killed before the elders managed to stop the bloodshed. That was abomination to the spirits and, fortunately, we haven’t had anything like that in my time, nor in my parents’ time.”

“Well, imagine that over the sea, there are countries, each one thousands, tens of thousands times bigger than the settlement in your valley, and they fight each other with all their might, and there is nobody to stop them, and thousands of people die every day.”

Tahan’s eyes grew wide with horror. “But then, soon no people will be left in the world!”

Despite everything, Scott suppressed a little smile. “I wouldn’t be so pessimistic. There are many, many people in the world… but yes, far too many are losing their lives. It is one of the worst wars, possibly the worst, in the history of mankind.”

“But why? Why do they fight?”

He sighed. “I barely understand myself. Land, wealth, power, control… what did the clans Ne and Ro fight for?”

“Over a field that lay between their homes, and over a woman who was said to favor a man of the Ro clan, and then went with a man of the Ne clan. It was all about their pride, mostly.”

“Well, so it is for the countries beyond the sea, I think, only on a larger scale.”

“And your family is there? You must fear for them,” Tahan touched his arm sympathetically.

“Yes, my parents and sister… my sister’s husband was sent out to fight, though he didn’t want to — our government, that is, our chiefs, sent him. And then there is my… wife. Well, not for long, I think, but…” he trailed off.

“What do you mean?” Tahan frowned.

“My wife sent me a message telling me I might as well never come home again.”

“She wants to tear down your hearth and home?” Tahan clarified. This expression, Scott knew, meant the equivalent of divorce in the tongue of the Anai. He nodded.

“But why? Have you been unkind to her?”

“She… she feels this way, I guess. Because I went away.”

“Away, here? Beyond the sea? But why couldn’t she go with you?”

“She could, I guess, but… she chose not to. She… didn’t want to leave home.”

Tahan shook back her golden braid. “But what good is a home without her husband?” she asked. “If I could follow Daygan anywhere, I would, if it meant I can be with him again. Maybe…” she hesitated. “Maybe if I couldn’t take Egan with me, it would be hard. But you say you have no children.”

“No. Brianna, she… I did ask her to come with me, but I guess it was too much for her.” Scott got up. “Let’s not talk about sad things right now,” he said. “It’s the winter feast soon. I don’t want to burden you with my troubles.”

“It’s not a burden,” Tahan said. “If a man cannot speak the sadness upon his heart, it turns into poison, and he cannot be happy. It’s a good thing you speak. But it’s not good to think of sad things always, either. Sometimes you have to… go away. Inside, in your heart. I used to go away a lot, after Daygan went on to land of darkness.”

Scott nodded. He was examining the walls of the cave again. They were almost completely covered with old paintings, some of them so small and intricate it would take months to peruse them. Some corridors were leading off the main cave, and he knew there were more paintings there.

One drawing in particular arrested his eye. He had never noticed it before. It depicted a man of the Anai, poised with a long spear, in a battle position against what looked like a giant, long-toothed, winged lizard. Next to it were other paintings, all done in a similar theme. Sometimes the men were armed with bows, sometimes with spears or clubs; sometimes the great reptiles had no feet, looking more like snakes; at other times, their legs were long and bent at the joint, giving them the look of spiders. Some were men-sized, others, in proportion, depicted to be as big as a hill.

“What is that?” he asked Tahan.

“These are the monsters the First Anai had to fight when they came from across the sea and found the valley,” she said. “Look, here is the tale.” She pointed to lines of writing next to the paintings of the giant lizards, and with her help, Scott read:

“Though the Hand of the Spirit opened the warm and fertile valley for the First Anai, it was inhabited by monsters, and only the brave of heart would deserve to vanquish them. The monsters had lived in the valley since ancient times, and the warriors of the Anai fell upon them to drive them away. Many men lost their lives, but the valley was now safe for the Anai people. The beasts crawled and flew away, leaving their nests and their eggs behind. Since their blood was cold, they could not live long without the warmth of the valley, and froze into the ice walls. Some of them are still living within the ice, and can be awakened as a punishment for the unworthy.”