Stolen Away (10 page)

T
he winter had been long and difficult. Even though it was one of the most bitter in recent memory, the temperature inside the mamateek stayed relatively pleasant. Kiera admired the efficient design of the structures. Fourteen people lived within her mamateek, sharing both the heat of the central fire and the resulting smoky air. Above their heads, worn but colourfully decorated caribou skins lined the walls. The painted images of forest animals on the skins danced in the light of the crackling fire.

To pass the time away during the dark evenings, most of the adults and children enjoyed playing a game called Chance. It involved throwing a handful of beautifully decorated two-sided bones onto the dirt floor. The pattern was different on each side of the bone. The goal was to predict which sides would land facing up, and points were given depending on how the pieces fell.

Kiera also enjoyed playing the game, but she preferred to spend most of her spare time in a different way. She sat quietly in her back corner with Shawnadit, teaching her how to work the needle in and out of the small, discarded scraps of leather she had scrounged from the remains of the great hunt. Together, they sized and cut, sewed and hemmed, embroidered and dyed the small, leather pieces. Kiera was impressed with how quickly Shawnadit was able to learn the skill of sewing.

Occasionally, the other clan members would crawl over to stare in awe at their evolving creation. They were fascinated with Kiera's artistry and quietly watched her expert hands work the leather. Although everyone in the mamateek chattered in excitement as the garment neared completion, Kiera had made everyone swear to keep her project a secret once they stepped through the covered door of the mamateek and joined the outside world.

Shawnadit was seemingly attached to Kiera's hip. She mimicked Kiera with every movement and every gesture, right down to her harsh, choppy way of speaking the Beothuck tongue. Although Kiera occasionally tired of her shadow, she never openly demonstrated frustration towards her adopted little sister. When Kiera needed a break, she would don a pair of snowshoes and trudge out into the serene forest for an invigorating walk. In the stillness of the woods, she could close her eyes and let the icy fingers of the winter wind carry her home.

When tired of sewing, Kiera enjoyed spinning fantastic tales of her faraway homeland for the enthralled band members. She would also add a Bible story or two as she remembered them from her talks with the friendly priest in her village. The band members, however, were more interested in the mythical creatures and gods of the Viking sagas. They would beg to hear of the mighty battles of Odin and Thor against the various evil serpents and leviathans that lurked deep within the waters of the ocean. The Beothuk were as connected to the sea as the Vikings. Kiera's new friends also depended upon the salmon run and the plentiful birds' eggs found on the nearby coastal islands. The prosperity of both cultures rose and fell on the whims of the mighty water that connected their two lands.

After listening rapturously to the Viking tales, the elders would then in turn share their stories and beliefs of the Beothuck world. Kiera marvelled at the rich, detailed tales of life, death, war and the activities of the spirit world. Chocan would also spin his stories of the Great Creator. Sometimes they were as new to her as they were to the youngest of the band members, but occasionally, Kiera would recognize the story from her childhood memories. Kiera was amazed at some of the similarities, especially considering the fact that the original Teachers had first shared them with Chocan's ancestors over two hundred years before.

It was during a howling late winter snowstorm that Chocan sat cross-legged in front of the fire, his eyes aglow in the crackling flames, words fluttering from his lips like a distant dream.

“A man named A'kmaran lived in a village in a faraway land. He was comfortable there, with a large family and plenty of good hunting. But his family and the other villagers believed in many different spirits and feared many superstitions. One night, the Great Creator came to A'kmaran in a dream.

“He said, “A'kmaran, I am Gitche Manitou, the Great Spirit, the Creator of all things and the Giver of Life. There is no other but Me. Do not believe the tales of these people. You and your wife must leave your home and journey a great distance by canoe to a place of fresh water and good hunting. You will call this place the Promised Land. Once there, you will settle with your wife and worship only me. Your descendants will become powerful, and they will spread my word throughout the world.”

Chocan paused, then looked around at the children. “Do you think A'kmaran wanted to leave his family and friends?”

“No,” said the children in unison.

“Do you think he might have been scared to begin a long voyage to a place that he had never seen except in his dreams?”

“Yes,” they answered.

“I think he was scared, too. But do you know what allowed him to begin the journey? He had faith. He had faith that the Great Creator would be with him, even though his friends and family told him that he was crazy for wanting to leave such a comfortable life.”

“I think he was also brave,” added an older boy.

Chocan smiled. “Yes, he was that as well. Without ever looking back, he and his wife left their village and set out across the waters in search of the Promised Land.”

“Did he ever find it?” asked a young girl.

Chocan nodded. “Yes, he did. He was, however, very old when he finally arrived. But the Creator kept his promise and made his children and their children and all of their descendants strong and prosperous. So strong were the Creator's words that his story has reached us after the passage of a thousand moons and the distance of an entire ocean. The Teachers wanted everyone here to know the story. Two hundred years ago, they travelled all of the way from Kiera's homeland to ours in order to bring this story to us.”

He turned to Kiera. “Do you know of this story?”

She nodded. “It is one of the Bible's oldest stories. In my language, the names of the travellers were Abraham and Sarah.”

“Abraham and Sarah,” Chocan repeated, slowly. “I will remember that. Now if you will excuse us, children, I must speak to Kiera outside.”

The children moaned their objections as the two stepped out of the tent. They were immediately assaulted by the crisp, blowing winter air. A fresh blanket of snow covered the clearing and mamateeks, giving the conical structures the appearance of a group of smouldering ice-capped volcanoes. With the strengthening sun, the snow had softened considerably, allowing the two to stand on its packed surface without sinking. She folded her arms against the cold and turned to him.

“You picked that story on purpose.”

He looked at her innocently. “Why do you say that?”

“You are subtly trying to tell me that I am already in the Promised Land. You told me yourself that the Teachers called this land Hyranason, ‘The New Eden'. Just like Abraham and Sarah, I have made the journey across the Great Water, and now you are saying that I should be happy to stay here.”

He shook his head. “It's true that I chose that story for a reason, but not for the reason you think.”

“All right,” she said. “Explain.”

“You are correct in saying that you have found a sanctuary. We are your friends…your family. I feel the chance of you making it back home, assuming your family is still alive and well, is very poor, if not impossible. But you, like Abraham, are listening to your heart and the message the Great Spirit has placed within it. You will follow that message of faith, even though to everyone else it seems like you are embarking on a hopeless quest.”

“Hopeless? Chocan, if this was supposed to be a encouraging speech, then you've failed miserably.”

Kiera's face dropped, she turned away from him, closing her eyes and breathing in a deep lungful of biting air. Chocan stepped up to her and lifted her chin. Her eyes rose to his.

“Stay with us.”

Her eyes filled with tears as she tapped her chest. “My heart, as you said, is telling me to go back. I'm being called back. It is something I cannot ignore. I could not live in peace here with my heart, when the Creator is calling me back to my family and people. I'm so sorry, Chocan. A part of me desperately wants to stay here with you and the rest of the band, but I simply can't.”

He nodded thoughtfully, then looked up to the brightening sky. “Then we will go. We leave tomorrow.”

Her mouth dropped. “Tomorrow?”

“If we are to arrive at your Viking village in the spring, then we must leave now.”

“Chocan, I've thought about this all winter. You can't go! These people need you. I'll get back to the village by myself. Just tell me what to do, where to go, and I'll make it on my own.”

She was interrupted as Chocan waved to Sooleawaa, who was returning from the creek with a large sack of water. She smiled as she approached, then noticed Kiera wiping away a tear.

“Kiera, what's wrong?”

“I don't know whether to be happy or angry with the two of you,” sniffed Kiera. “What are you doing, letting your brother accompany me on such a dangerous trip?”

“Dangerous trip?” she repeated, staring at her sibling.

Kiera wrapped her arms around Sooleawaa. “I am so confused. A part of me can't stand the thought of never seeing you again. But deep inside, I know I have to try and get home, back to my family.”

“So, you have decided to go back to the Viking village?”

Kiera nodded and wiped away another tear.

Sooleawaa brushed the hair from Kiera's face. “You must follow your heart, Kiera, or else you will always be left wondering about what could have been. And I do want Chocan to take you back. If anyone can return you to your village, it will be my big brother. He has travelled in the open ocean more than almost any other Beothuck. I, too, am your friend. If bringing you to your masters will make you happy, then that is what Chocan must do.”

Kiera grabbed Sooleawaa again and embraced her. “Thank you.”

Sooleawaa began to cry as well. “I will miss you.” She looked to Chocan. “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow.”

Surprised, she nodded, then broke into a smile that beamed with sisterly love. She grabbed Kiera's hand.

“Come, let's pack.”

T
he entire village gathered at the edge of camp to see them off. It took all of Kiera's strength to fight the tears that once again fought to be released. All of the now familiar, caring faces of the band smiled or nodded to her. Quietly, the group parted, allowing Nadie to approach. Her ancient eyes seemed to sparkle as they gazed upon Kiera. She reached out and took Kiera's hands inside her own weathered palms.

Kiera choked as she spoke. “Thank you, Nadie, for everything, for saving my life, for teaching me so much, but most of all, for accepting me into your family. I hope you don't feel that I'm deserting you.”

Nadie squeezed her hands. “We are only happy that your path brought you to us, if only for a short time. You are a special child. You have seen so much already and, I feel, you have so much more yet to see. Your path leaves us now, but who knows? It may be the Creator's wish to bring us back together once more. Either way, remember that we are always here for you and we, especially the children, will always remember you. You will become part of our family's story, our family's song. Listen for us singing to you in your dreams.”

Kiera stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Nadie's frail body. “I will. Thank you.”

Kiera stepped back, bent down and picked up her belongings.

“I have something that Shawnadit and I made for you and your family. Hopefully, when you look at it, it will remind you of my time with you. Shawnadit, do you want to go and get it for me?”

The little girl squeezed through the crowd, disappeared into the mamateek, and quickly returned. A smile spread across her face as she passed the folded garment to Kiera. Kiera unfolded it and held it up high for all to see. The villagers gasped, except those who resided with her in her mamateek, who smiled with pride. The garment was a beautiful, sleeved and hooded cape. It was fully embroidered around the neck and bottom with a pattern that mirrored the rounded mountains of the Meeting Place. All eyes, however, were drawn to the top and left where an intricate, geometric cross, made of triangles, diamonds and curves, had been sewn. The geometric designs beautifully built upon the sign of the band. The back of the garment was just as breathtaking. With artistic skill, a majestic caribou was caught in full flight leaping over a log. Behind the log, the top of two heads and two arrows could just be seen. Keira wrapped the garment around Nadie's shoulders.

“I made this for you and your…my family. The cross over your heart,” she said, pointing, “is a cross from my homeland. It would have been the same cross that the Teachers would have known before they sailed from Ireland. I have always loved the Celtic cross. And if you look closely, you can see I began the pattern with the design of your band. Two worlds in one design. I hope you like it.”

“It is a truly wonderful gift,” said Nadie, holding her arms out wide and turning slowly around for all to see. “We will always treasure it.”

Kiera now turned her attention to Shawnadit. “Do you have it in a safe place?”

She nodded and patted her skirt. “In the hem. Just like you.”

“Good girl. You are very talented at sewing, Shawnadit. Keep practicing, and you will soon be sewing your own Celtic crosses.”

Shawnadit stared up with her big eyes. “Kiera?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“When you are back home and you sew something, will you think of me?”

Kiera felt a lump form in her throat. “Of course, I will. But only if you do the same. Agreed?”

Shawnadit nodded, and sniffing loudly, wrapped her tiny arms around Kiera's neck. After a few moments, Chocan touched Kiera gently on the shoulder.

“Time to go.”

Kiera kissed Shawnadit on the forehead and stood up. Chocan helped Kiera wrap the leather straps of her sled around her waist and shoulders. They tied snowshoes to their boots and fixed their outer garments until they were both comfortable. Sooleawaa wrapped her arms around them both and wished them luck. Finally, after many goodbyes and more tears, the two trudged off to the edge of the winter camp, took one last look back at their friends, and disappeared into the forest.

Although Kiera's leg had healed well, she found the going difficult. The forest was quite dense along the path of the creek that they continued to follow northward. Although it meant weaving between the plentiful saplings, the thick growth helped to protect them from the bitter winter wind. Kiera's legs tired quickly from the extra weight of the snowshoes and the heavy load of the sled. She seemed to be endlessly apologizing to Chocan for their slow pace. Chocan never complained, but he remained unusually quiet, which made Kiera feel even more guilty with each rest break. Although he didn't show it, she could sense that Chocan was worried about making it to the Viking village before mid-spring.

They spent their first night lying on the soft needles of a large pine tree and were well on their way again by the time the first rays of sunlight reached the powdery forest floor. With each day, Kiera felt her strength slowly return. By the end of the week, for the first time since her rescue in the fall, she began to feel like her previously healthy self. Fewer breaks for the duo meant more distance covered. Chocan's mood finally began to lighten.

They spent the long hours on the trail trading tales of the Irish, Norse and Beothuck cultures. What fascinated Chocan the most about the cultures to the east was their ability to use metal.

“So the iron in your needle came from rock?” he asked, intrigued.

“Yes,” she explained. “There is a type of rock called iron. If you heat it to a high enough temperature, it melts into a liquid. Then, you pour the purified liquid into a mold and allow it to cool. Once it cools back into a solid, you remove it from the mold, then you're done. The metal tool is complete.”

“Incredible,” muttered Chocan. “So what other things do you make with this rock called iron?”

Kiera laughed. “I don't know where to begin. First of all, weapons, I suppose. Swords, lances, even arrowheads can all be made with metal. Metal weapons are extremely deadly. I've seen them used firsthand. They can slice through any thickness of leather garment and sever an arm or leg with just one blow. You can see why an army of metal-bearing Vikings can be a formidable foe.”

“I now understand the power of these Viking warriors,” said Chocan, thoughtfully. “But the Thule do not seem to be frightened of these metal weapons.”

“That is because, at the village, the Thule have compensated with overwhelming numbers. We have only twenty-five men in our village. In Ireland, the Vikings would descend upon a village with hundreds of well-armed soldiers. Trust me, if a full armada of Viking ships attacked a Thule village, the only ones left standing would be the Vikings. And the more a village resists, the more ruthless the Vikings become.”

Chocan frowned. “We would not be able to defend ourselves against such an adversary. Our only option, then, would be to avoid contact altogether.”

Kiera grimaced at the thought. “I agree. If you see an approaching fleet of Viking ships, my advice would be to run as fast as you can away from their landing site. Viking warriors do not speak with words, but with the sword.”

As they came to the summit of a small hill, Chocan pointed northward. A thin trail of smoke rose up from the forest.

“There is the camp. We are close.”

“Good,” said Kiera, her shoulders sagging. “My legs feel like they are on fire.”

He looked over his shoulder and smiled. “For someone who has walked very little in nearly a year, you have done very well. Now let's see if we can reach our brothers and sisters before sundown.”

The evening light had almost departed the darkening forest when they entered the northern village. The clearing was empty, but the muffled voices of the band could be heard murmuring through the birch and moss walls of the mamateeks. Chocan shook his head in disgust.

“This must be a village of lazy groundhogs, all tucked away in their little dens for the night. I could have been a Thule warrior and simply walked off with their remaining winter rations. Where is the watch?”

With the silence of a shadow, an arm whipped around Chocan's neck, placing a razor sharp stone against his throat. Kiera gasped in shock at the sudden appearance of a fierce, armed warrior, his narrowed eyes ablaze in anger. She tried to back away, but her snowshoes became tangled in the sled. She landed in a heap upon the wet snow.

Chocan laughed. “You kill me, and you will lose the only person in the Beothuck nation whom you can beat in Chance!”

The grip around Chocan's body softened, and the warrior's face lightened. “You've got a point. I suppose the Creator would want me to take pity on such a pathetic Chance player. How are you, Chocan?”

The warrior removed the knife, stepped in front of him and the two embraced. “Tired. It's good to see you again, Taregan. This is my good friend, Kiera.”

Kiera smiled awkwardly from her tangled mess on the ground.

“Hello, I think.”

Taregan bent down and stretched out a hand. She took it, and he easily hauled her back up onto her feet.

“I remember you from the Meeting Place. Sorry about the fright, Kiera. Chocan and I go back to when he first arrived in our land.”

Chocan shook his head. “I can't believe that you were the first person we met after making the crossing. It's no wonder my sister and I didn't hop back into my canoe and return to Mi'kmaq territory.”

Taregan laughed. “I watched Chocan lead his sister aimlessly around the coastal woods. I took pity on such a poor, helpless individual and decided it was safe to introduce them to my band. They stayed with us for over a year, learned our ways, and then, at the Meeting Place, left to be with Nadie's band. Ungrateful, wouldn't you agree?”

“I think, then, that Chocan's come a long way,” Kiera said, cheerfully. “He could have deserted me when I was nearly dead, but he saved my life. I owe him everything.”

It was then that Taregan noticed, in the fading light, her green eyes behind the layers of red ochre. “I had forgotten that you are not Beothuck. You speak it very well. Much better, in fact, than he ever did after his first year among us.”

Chocan shook his head in mock exasperation.

“Thank you,” replied Kiera, giggling.

Chocan explained the situation as band members began to spill out of the mamateeks, curious at the commotion. Everyone was surprised to see visitors in winter. Many gathered around, listening to their story of rescue and hopeful repatriation. At the end of the tale, a late-arriving man stepped through the crowd. Tall and cloaked in an impressive skin of wolf, he approached the two strangers.

“I am Rowtag, chief of this band.”

Taregan introduced the visitors.

Rowtag frowned. “It is late in winter. Our supplies are low. We have no room in our band for newcomers.”

“Do not worry, Rowtag,” Chocan replied. “We will not be staying long. In fact, we will continue our journey northwards in the morning, and we will compensate you for our stay. All we ask of you is a place to rest for the night.”

“Chocan?” The chiefs eyes brightened. “I didn't recognize you! It has been a long time since we have had a chance to talk.”

They embraced. “It's good to see you again as well.”

“You are going north?” repeated Rowtag, surprised. “Any further north and you will be entering Thule-controlled land.”

Chocan's face dropped. “Have they advanced this far already?”

Rowtag grunted. “They pushed further inland while we were at the Meeting Place. The invaders have taken over our summer camp, near the river's mouth to the Great Water. That is where they are wintering. What my band will do in the spring when it comes time to return to the coast, I do not know.”

Chocan thought for a moment. “Send word to Nadie of the situation. I'm sure my band can give you residence until we mount an attack to rid our land of the invaders this summer.”

Rowtag clasped Chocan's shoulder. ‘Thank you.”

“How many Thule are residing at your summer camp?” Chocan asked.

“There are not many,” added Taregan, “perhaps a couple of dozen. I have seen the cooking smoke from their fires.”

Chocan frowned. “This is not good news. First, they invaded and conquered all of the peaceful Tunit villages in the land beyond the north waters, and now they have pushed further into our land. We must repel them before their numbers increase. The tribal council will need to know of this.”

“I will meet with the council in the spring and inform them of the worsening situation,” agreed Rowtag. “Until we rid our lands of these invaders, it will not be safe for the two of you to go any further north.”

“I'm afraid we don't have much choice,” Chocan explained. “Kiera needs to get back home.”

“Home?” asked Rowtag, noticing for the first time her fair eyes. “And where exactly is that?”

“She needs to go back to the pale strangers' village on the northwest coast of our land,” Chocan explained. “The people she calls Viking.”

“Ah, the long boat people,” he said, staring at Kiera. “We have seen your vessel cross through our bays several times. I have never seen your village, although a Thule captive did talk about it. He said it was a week's paddle north of the Great Bay. Your people have angered the Thule. Their chiefs son is dead because of what your people did during an argument several seasons ago. You will never be welcomed by them.”

Kiera frowned. “The Thule have already made that perfectly clear. They have been attacking my village for some time. Our leader has decided to leave and return to the Viking lands in the east. I need to get back there before they leave so that I am not left behind.”

“Lands to The East?” repeated Rowtag, astonished. “The Vikings come from the Land of the Teachers?”

Kiera explained who she was, who the Vikings and Teachers were, and how she had ended up in this land. After her story, she was thankful that the chief didn't ask why she wanted to go back to Ireland. He just simply nodded, as if he had green-eyed travellers from across the ocean pass through his village on a regular basis.