The nightmare began for Isaac at the pow-wow held within Bear Head First Nation.The late summer pow-wow was further out of the way than most other ones on the summer circuit.. Unlike the big flashy competition pow-wows closer to Toronto and Ottawa, Bear Head was one of those "real ones" Gabrielle always went to every weekend, dragging along her oldest friend, Isaac. The weekends of constant travel from one pow-wow to another was beginning to take a toll on Isaac, but his feelings for Gabrielle helped encourage him to continue joining her on the trips. It had taken them four hours to get this far, leaving early in the morning after camping on some crown land north of Huntsville Thursday night. They were making good time, until Gabrielle turned onto the dirt road full of ruts and bumps.
"Holy shit, man" muttered Gabrielle as she struggled to steer the low suspension of her aged, weathered Toyota Camry over the obstacles "Hopefully we make it in one piece and I don't punch a hole in the transmission or something Zaac!" Isaac preferred to be called Isaac, but something about Gabrielle calling him 'Zaac' always felt comforting.
"I'm sure we'll make it just fine, Gabby. We have your bundle with us, and you know how full of luck that is." Gabrielle seemed to relax, her chest puffing up somewhat proudly at the mention of her sacred bundle. She had worked on it all spring, making it out of the nicest buckskin she could buy at the local trading post on the easterly highway of their hometown. Inside were trinkets she had bought at all of the pow-wows they went to. Smudge sticks of juniper and California sagebrush, along with a braid of sweetgrass were in the center of the bundle. Placed with them were necklace pendants she had found that "had a good vibe", and the right price. She had a fan, made of turkey feathers, and a rattle with painted medicine wheels on it. She had quickly removed the "Made in Pakistan" sticker on the rattle before smudging it and blessing it, as she had been taught at the Shaman's retreat she had went to last autumn. She also had some incense sticks, a little wolf carved out of soapstone, and a couple of finger-woven Peruvian pouches inside the bundle; one full of BC Bud, and the other full of Salvia extract packets. The bundle, Gabrielle stated repeatedly, was blessed and full of good medicine to protect them.
Isaac grinned, knowing that his respect for her beliefs strengthened their ties and helped relax her on the road. He leaned back in his seat and looked out his window to watch their surroundings. Massive cedars and white pines filled the sky on each side of the road. Below them, beaked hazel and balsam fir frose up amongst the trunks. Even closer to the earth was the occasional orange cluster of bunchberries, and the vibrantly leafed Sarsaparilla. Random patches of marsh opened here and there. Isaac scanned each opening for any possible sight of a moose amongst the lillypads and cattails. The forest was an endless expanse, growing in every visible direction other than the road. The canopy blotted out the sky in many places, except for where the marshes were.
Isaac closed his eyes and tried to imagine the view from above. He pictured a vast carpet of dark and light greens, going on for thousands upon thousands of acres. The vast immensity of the forest was only broken up where water would be, and even then, the tamaracks and balsam firs would be laying down their claims in the tannin-rich marshes and the small creeks. Amongst the firs and tamaracks the ground sphagnum moss with Labrador tea and the occasional pitcher plant emerging from the soft moss.
A big, jarring turn knocked Isaac out of his daydreaming, and he grabbed the dashboard as Gabrielle jerked the steering wheel to avoid a huge rut in the road. The tires kicked up a large cloud of gravel and dust, which engulfed the car in a rain of grit and earth. Isaac grasped Gabrielle as she slammed on the brakes and gasped in surprise. Isaac looked her over, as if somehow the gravel might have gotten in through the window and struck her,
"Are you alright Gabby?" he asked worriedly.
"Christ dude, that hole wasn't there a second ago, I swear!" she said in between pants. She grabbed his hand and held it tight as she calmed herself down. Isaac stroked her hair and smiled.
"Into that stuff in your bundle already are we?" he teased her.”
"Fuck off Zaac. I rarely toke when driving, and especially not up here."
Isaac refrained from reminding her of the trip to Manitoulin Island the month before. He was quite sure his fingerprints were still imprinted on the dashboard.Gabrielle shut the engine off and stepped out of the car when the dust settled down. Her breathing relaxed and she smiled. "Man, that woulda' really wrecked the trip. I haven't seen another car out here since we turned on this road forty minutes ago." She was right Isaac thought. But wasn't this a big pow-wow for the area? Obviously someone had to come down the road eventually. Isaac started to wonder if they were on the right road, or if the pow-wow was cancelled. He began to worry that Gabrielle had forgotten which weekend was which pow-wow. She had done so in the past. As he turned to ask her if they were on the right road, she hollered "Hey look! A sign for the pow-wow!" He followed her pointing finger and sure enough there was a sign.
It was a medium-sized sign, black with white letting which read "Boozhoo, Aanii. Welcome to Bear Head First Nation's Annual Pow-wow. 3Km ahead" He sighed with relief and said "So should we go now, or stand around and see if another pot-hole magically appears?" Gabrielle glared annoyingly and threw a twig at him from a nearby hazel. "Get in the car Zaac, before I leave your butt here."
*****
Isaac got out of the car and stretched his legs painfully. The ride on that dirt road had really knocked his joints out of socket. He was just glad it didn’t rain. As he began to open the station wagon's back hatch, he saw Gabrielle put on her fancy turquoise and jasper earrings, and fluff up her hair. She wore a long cloth skirt, the kind you could find in Tribal-esque new age stores. Most likely from Indonesia. Her top was a sky blue sleeveless tee, with a brown cordurroy vest. Isaac always laughed inside at her eccentric flare, but she seemed to be fashionable somewhere. He just wondered where that was.
"So are you going to help me set up the tent?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
"Actually man, I was wondering if you'd be cool with me going to check the aura of the pow-wow grounds? I really need to ground myself after that ride!" The reason -more of an excuse- was always unique, but then again, so was she.
"Yeah, yeah." Isaac said already resolved in the matter, "Just don't get lost or kidnapped". Gabrielle placed a hand on her hip and said "Now come on Zaac, why on earth would any of these beautiful people want to steal little old me?" He waved her off, knowing she had gone to look for a new soapstone pipe. Her old one broke when she was loading her bundle into the car Thursday morning, and she couldn't smoke the Salvia in anything else but that.
"Aura my ass" he muttered, though he smiled, thinking of how pretty she looked.
The pow-wow grounds were in a clearing only three acres in total. In the center an arbour had been erected with cedar poles. A few tarps made the roof waterproof, but the majority of the tarps were covered with the boughs of the felled cedars. A rope barrier had been made about twenty feet in radius from the outside of the arbour. That was the dance circle. Outside the circle, a dozen benches were set up. A large old military tent made up the "elder's shelter", where the old folks sat out of the sun or rain. Beyond this, a circle of vending boothes were set up. Only a few were there, though he was sure more would be rolling in by morning. A raven perched in a pine tree in the western end of the grounds, and croaked continuosly.
By the time evening came down Friday night, Isaac had the tent up and the cooler out. Being the nineteen year old out of the two of them, he had picked up a small case of beer and some whiskey. Molsen Canadian with Jack Daniels. But he realized just before they arrived at the grounds, that he would most likely be drinking alone anyways. The rule at most pow-wows was that you couldn’t have alcohol in your system if you wished to participate in any of the Intertribal dances, and Isaac knew that Gabrielle would be wanting to dance every chance she got. He had asked one of the volunteers setting up the place if it was okay if he could have a bonfire, to which they responded "Yeah, just don't burn the place down, and get your own firewood." Being a former boyscout, and taking some outdoor leadership programmes in his first year at college, he knew how. The fire was small, but smelled strongly of cedar and pine.
Gabrielle returned with a paper bag, and a large smile on her face. "You have to see this peace pipe man!" she said as she pulled out the item. It had a stem a foot long, with turkey and chicken feathers hanging from it. But the bowl was very ornate. It was made of a black soapstone, with a raven perched on the head of a man. The face of the man looked grotesque, while the raven looked as if it was gleeful. "Look at this beautiful piece of art! I bet I got a steal on this." Isaac doubted it, but watched her place the stone bowl on the edge of the fire to heat up. It took a little extra heat to get the Salvia extract to burn nice -according to Gabrielle.
"Gabby, exactly how is alcohol not allowed in the dance circle, but stuff like weed and Salvia is acceptable?" he asked, sincerely not understanding how these rules worked.
Gabrielle sat up rigid and glared at him, "Because Zaac, these are herbs of the Earth Mother. Alcohol is a processed grain or fruit, that is made to screw up the mind. Whereas the sacred herbs are able to open the mind. They are sacred, and therefore acceptable. My mentor said so." Isaac shrugged defeatedly. This mentor sure made no sense to Isaac. Especially since the weed was most likely grown in a corn field that got sprayed with pesticides, and the salvia was an extract, processed just as much as the alcohol in his beer.
As the evening wore on, more people arrived and set up tents. A few drum groups had arrived and some of the guys got together to play on their hand drums, or tell funny stories from their trips cross-country drumming at other pow-wows. Gabrielle blended a very small amount of her pot with a good patch of the salvia, and when the pipe was hot, she held the stem, and stuck the plug of herbs into the bowl. She immediately grabbed a burning stick and lit the already smoking salvia, and sucked on the stem. Isaac made sure he was a visible barrier between her and anyone who could be a cop. The Salvia was legal, but the amount of weed Gabrielle had in the car was definitely enough to get her in trouble. She held the smoke down in her lungs for a few minutes, and then blew it out slowly. Gabrielle began to giggle quietly, occasionally reaching out to grasp at something. As the drumming continued in the background, her smile and giggles never left her. Isaac had never used weed or Salvia. Neither of them we very enticing to him. He sipped a coke, ignoring the fact that he had a case of cold ones, hoping tomorrow he could dance with Gabrielle. He prevented her from getting too close to the fire, and kept a close eye on her for the next eight or nine minutes. Slowly, she came down from her hallucination.
"Zaac, you really ought to try this stuff," she said as she breathed slowly, trying to sober up -but not too fast- "This time I could have sworn, I was part of that drumming. Like, the sound, not the action, y'know?"
"To be honest Gabby, I don't know. Nor do I want to know. It seems silly." he stated slowly, and honestly. She scrunched her eyebrows and hissed "Well then fucking don't experience something new", before getting up to find something to eat.
Soon after eating a vegan hotdog, Gabrielle wandered to another bonfire to socialize with the drummers. One or two of them looked familiar to her from the Golden Lake Pow-wow they had been to a week before. One of the guys eyed her up and down as she strolled over and introduced herself. Isaac wanted to go over and introduce himself, but he was worried he would look too clingy. Gabrielle had scolded him a few years back for not letting her socialize with new groups of guys. Since then, he gave her some space. He knew she just wanted friendship, but all he could feel for her was love and the need for comfort.
Isaac sat there for an hour and a half, feeding the fire every once in a while. He looked over occasionally when he heard Gabby's very identifiable laugh. One of the guys -the one who had looked her over when she entered the group- had his arm around her waist, laughing with her by the big bonfire they had at their camp. Isaac frowned an turned back to stare at his fire. The coals glowed a reddish-orange. The fresh cedar popped every once in a while, sending a shower of sparks into the air, where they would fade into the stars. Isaac heard Gabrielle giggle, and had to force himself to get up.
Upon standing, his toe kicked something lightly. Looking down, he found the pipe, with the Salvia bag beside it. Thinking slowly, he placed the bowl into the coals.
"Just the Salvia. I don't want the weed. I can experience things too Gabby. Maybe I'll laugh louder than you are with your new boyfriend." He grabbed a leather glove to wear when holding the bowl, in fear of damaging it on a rock or something. He stuffed a plug of salvia into the bowl, and placed the mouthpiece to his lips. When he lit the already burning Salvia, he inhaled deeply. He held his breath, and counted down from one hundred, like his friend Josh said to do. As he exhaled he continued the count-down. Around Forty-three his eyes went fuzzy.
Colours he had never seen before flowed through his eyes, like a car through a tunnel. Bright flashes burned his eyes, with ravens croaking around him. He saw one in a tree, and it saw him, croaking before it dove for him. He swatted his hands at the great bird, which soared away and returned to its' perch. But as it landed, the raven became like a fluid, and formed into a bird he had never seen before in his life, as large as him. It croaked, but this time the sound echoed with microscopic resonance. The sounds flowed from high-pitched, to deep and guttoral, almost like the growl of a bear transformed into the chirps of a chickadee. "Boozhoo Neegoosis" the bird squawked, the words making no sense to him, but he understood them none the less. He tried to speak, but he felt something grab his throat. More words echoed, this time in English
"You come here to die. This is the land of Gaagaageenh, the Dancer of Madness. You have entered his domain, and you have come to die. He comes for you, I come for you. The Illusion is here within, and without."As the pressure on his throat increased, until he could no longer breathe. Isaac saw the lights increase, and a large hand... no, a taloned foot came down and carved his chest open, pulling out his heart, lungs and intestines. As he fought to scream, he looked up to see the raven, and a man-like being, who wore a mask. The mask was violent and terrifying, yet gorgeous in its' insane design. As the demonic bird began to feast on his organs, the masked man begun to spin slowly clockwise, dancing in Isaac's blood.
As the blood poured forth, a great lodge, made of bark and poles arose from the flow. The raven, who was not a raven, perched atop, with smoke made of blood streaming upwards, coating his feathers in soot, dripping in coagulated viscera. The eyes of the masked dancer spiraled out as serpentine fire, licking at Isaac's face, scorching his hands and face. The tightening of his throat subsided, but he was unable to breathe. In this world of blood-encrusted demonic creatures which brooded upon lodges of despair, the dancer continued to dance. No breath, no air, only blood, mutilation and the joyful celebration of violent beginnings. As Isaac began to grasp for escape, the bird stared into his eyes, and quorked "You are dead. Embrace the illusion that was your life, and you will suffer. Embrace the bounty that is death, and you will live forever. Embrace Gaagaageenh, Isaac. Isaac. Isaac.... Isaac?" Slowly Isaac came to, and smelled burnt hair, he awoke to see Gabrielle and three of the Ojibway men she was with staring at him. Her with concern, and them with terror. Behind them though, stood a man with a smile, and amber coloured eyes.
*****
Isaac shook himself and felt singes on his skin. Half of the scraggly beard he had was burnt away. Whoever he asked, they stated clearly that at no time had he fallen or rolled into the fire. Gabrielle was severely concerned about him, as she felt partially responsible for his injuries, and bad trip.
"Y'know you should have had me there when you did that Zaac." She stated, once the group of men had floated back to their bonfire, "It could have been a lot worse if we didn't hear you scream and choke."
Isaac grunted, still trying to understand everything he had seen, but embarrassed at the same time, he snapped back "What happened to the whole 'This shit is safe, why else would it still be legal in Canada?' crap you're always telling me?"
Gabrielle placed her hands on her lap and quietly said "It was a bad trip, because of the environment you were in, and that it was your first time. Don't blame the herb for you rushing in without foresight."
Isaac sighed and got out of his chair to go look in the rearview mirror. "Thank God that I brought a razor and shaving cream.. Haven't shaved in three years, but I always seem to bring em with me. Lucky bundle? Meet lucky shaving kit..." He muttered somewhat sarcastically as he washed his face with a bottle of water and began to rub the shaving cream onto his jawline and neck. "Shouldn't you wait a day or two before you try shaving? You do have burns on your face y'know." Gabrielle said, trying to sound as caring as she could.
"Meh," responded Isaac "I can barely feel them, and its' been an hour. So the burns must just be first degree. I am not looking like this all weekend, so I'll shave."
Gabrielle shrugged "Well at least they didn’t want to report you. I said you had fallen asleep and must have had a nightmare that triggered your sleep apnea." Isaac had paused with his razor and looked at her confusedly.
"The guys didn't know what the hell that was,” She explained, “So I told em it means you don't always breathe when you sleep. I know that isn't exactly the case with sleep apnea, but it was a bit less problematic then saying 'oh, my friend here tried to smoke something without me around, and is having a bad trip.' okay?" Isaac rolled his eyes and returned to shaving.
As he cleaned up his face with the razor, he listened to Gabrielle chatter away, trying not to think about the horrors he saw under the influence of that herb. But when he nicked his neck with the razor and saw blood stream out, all of the violent terrors returned to his memory, flashing through him like spectres.
"I just cut my damned neck" he said aloud, helping to shake himself loose of the memories, "I'm done anyways, but I'm going to rinse off at the sink beside the outhouse near the south end of the grounds." Before she could reply, he was off. He needed to walk, he needed to not have time to stand still, for the dreams to catch up. It was like trying to keep just out of the biting reach of a swarm of mosquitoes and deerflies.
Their camp was on the eastern end of the grounds, therefor he should have just turned left and went straight to the outhouses. However his thoughts had kept him under their spell, and by the time he was conscious of where he was, he had arrived to the northwestern corner of the pow-wow grounds. He began to walk, trying to ignore the giant pine tree he had to pass, in which that godforsaken bird had perched. He wished he could just turn around and go back clockwise around the circle, but there were too many people camped out, and they would think he was a bit silly if he stopped this close to the latrines, just because of a harmless tree.
Isaac walked faster, trying to get to the outhouse area without spending too much time near that western pine. The shaving cream was starting to dry and itch slightly on his face.
"Interesting visions you had I'm guessin'?" called out a voice the moment he passed by the tall pine tree. Isaac felt his heart leap and race towards his throat as he spun around, to see the smiling man who had watched from the back of the crowd when Isaac came to.
"You were moving and acting like the old men used to when they used Miskwedo. But it didn't smell like Miskwedo burning in that pipe." stated the old man as he carved a piece of cedar with an old folding knife. He wore a wide-brimmed black felt hat. It had a high crown, with two feathers on the side, sticking straight into the air. The one feather looked like the golden eagle feathers Isaac had seen at other pow-wows, but the second one was different than anything he had ever seen, and much larger than the eagle feather. The sight of such a large feather, and the place the man decided to sit to carve was unnerving to Isaac.
"Smelled kind of like burned tea leaves, with a hint of sage.. but not sagebrush, like we use in our smudges... more like sage from where your ancestors come from. Guessin' that 'Sage of the Seers' I keep hearin' about from the young men on the pow-wow trails down south? Musta’ been strong enough to bring Him forth to you, eh?"
He folded the knife and tucked it into the breast pocket of his faded blue denim shirt, and stretched slowly as he stood up even slower. It was like watching a cat slowly stir from a long rest. The man walked calmly towards Isaac, which left Isaac trembling even more than before. The man's hat moved stiffly as he sized up Isaac.
"You don't look like His usual type, but Tricksters have their trickery around them. You part of the people, or are you Zhaaginashe?".
"Who is Him?" demanded Isaac.
"Hm?" responded the old man. He wore canvas trousers, that had stitched patches to cover old tears and worn out places. His feet were covered in beaten up old moccasins. Not the kind found at pow-wows for sale, but the old-style ones Isaac had seen in some museums, center-seam moccasins. His eyes shone with an amber hue. Isaac could see them shining in the full moon and from the glowing fires surrounding the grounds.
“Him," responded Isaac in a louder, frustrated tone, "you said 'Musta been strong enough to bring him forth', and you said 'Him' and 'His type' when talking about me. So who is 'He'?"
The old man grinned, a single tooth missing from the broad smile, a slight crook to the ends of the lips was always present when he smiled. "Oh, 'Him'. He is the Dancer of Madness. He is the old bein', very few speak of anymore. Either cuz they don't know about 'Him', or because they are 'fraid of 'Him'. But enough about 'Him', shouldn't you be worried about that shavin' cream gettin' washed off before Mikey gets closer to your woman?" At which the old man pointed to the direction of Isaac and Gabrielle's camp. Mikey -apparently the Ojibway guy who had his arm around Gabrielle's waist earlier- was now in Isaac's camp, trying to sit as close as possible to Gabrielle. Isaac fumed for a moment before realizing it was such a sudden jump of subject, and turned to face the old man again. He was gone, as were any possible shavings of the cedar stick.
Isaac stood dumbly for a while, trying to figure out how a man could just make himself and all of the evidence of his existence disappear. It did not seem possible, and Isaac crouched to see if a single shaving of cedar, or a track could be left in the moonlight. Upon giving up the search he remembered the itch on his skin of the drying shaving cream. This jolted his memory as to where he was, and looked up to see himself in the shadow of the massive pine tree. He shuddered and walked quickly to the washing station of the outhouses. He rinsed the cream off and any remaining flecks of hair, dried his face and turned to face Mikey, but stood rigid. In the night sky, he could have sworn he heard large wings flapping away.
*****
The chill in his blood he could not remove, no matter how fast he ran. Within moments of bolting however, he forced himself to slow down. He didn’t wish to look foolish upon entering the camp. Mikey was sitting with Gabrielle both unaware of his presence, and suddenly the chill disappeared. It was replaced with a white-hot rage. "Intrusion" whispered a voice deep inside of his psyche.
"Mikey I presume?" asked Isaac as both Gabrielle and Mikey turned in surprise.
"How'd you know my name?" demanded Mikey, as he stood up. This reaction caused Gabrielle to look at Mikey confusedly.
"I thought your name was Chee-Beejaagin?" Someone in the dark of the other bonfire must have overheard, as they burst out laughing, to Mikey's embarassment. “Its' a nickname Babe," was Mikey's response, which made Isaac cringe in sympathy for Mikey. "Babe?" growled Gabrielle, "Did you seriosly just call me 'Babe'? Do I look like some toy or doll? Or is it that I look like some fucking talking pig from the movies?". Isaac tried not to grin, but it showed, and Mikey noticed. He outweighed Isaac by at least sixty pounds, most of that being muscle. And his height made Isaac -a clear six-footer- feel small. Mikey fumed and marched directly at Isaac.
Obviously the intent was to let out the humiliation on someone else. Before Isaac could stop him, Mikey had him by the collar and was about to pummel Isaac into the dirt when a voice seemed to come out of nowhere. Only after it finished speaking, did Isaac realize that the crazed, heavily breathed voice was coming from the treetops. " Foolish one, who walks towards oblivion and despair. Foul behemoths wait for you in the dark abstractness which is the terror within the dreams." Mikey froze and seemed to shrink, whispering quiet, fearful words as his eyes showed some unhinging of his brain. A fluttering of wings happened, and Isaac turned to see what spoke. But all he saw, was that accursed tree. When he turned back, Mikey had fallen to the earth. He was whimpering in terror. When he turned to Gabrielle she had an irritated and bewildered expression.
"Did you see it? Did you see the bird Gabrielle?" He shouted.
She looked at him perplexed and responded "All I saw was Mikey stare up at the sky and fall down like the clouds were about to carry him away. What is going on?". As he tried to comprehend exactly what was going on, Isaac could have sworn that he heard a maniacal laugh ring throughout his head.
Mikey was helped up by Isaac and Gabrielle, who took him back to his camp. When they arrived, Mikey’s friends grabbed him and hauled him into the tent. Though it wasn’t easy to do that, as no one wanted to take him directly from Isaac. Apparently the story of him freaking out -and perhaps a discussion with a disappearing man- had leaked into this neighbouring camp. No one would look him in the eye, and would only speak indirectly to him, through Gabrielle. He first had to let go, which made Gabrielle lurch, nearly toppling over from Mikey's weight. Only then would they help Mikey.
Upon returning to their own camp, Isaac slumped into his camp chair. "What the hell is going on with me?" Isaac muttered in aloud.
"Maybe you are having residual effects? Its' not likely, but its' the only explanation I've got." Isaac lifted his right shoulder as a defeated shrug and turned his attention on the dying embers, reminding him of the flames snaking out of the mask in his dream. But wasn't it just a hallucination? Why did he just refer to it as a dream? Dreams happen when you sleep, do they not? The voice that whispered "intrusion" was a voice different from the one both he and Mikey had heard come from the tree, and neither of them sounded of this world. The English words seemed slurred, and heavy, as if they were not used to speaking such a language. Was he going insane?
"Fuck this," he said to Gabrielle "I'm going to bed. Join me if you want." To which she raised an eyebrow.
Isaac raised his back and then said "Not like that Gabby... Ah hell, sure why not? I've been messed up all night, might make me feel better." Gabrielle smirked and looked to her feet.
"Maybe another time Zaac. The night of being chased by Chee... er.. Mikey has made me sort of tired of being desired. But I'll see you in the tent.”
Isaac slid into his sleeping bag, which was cool from its emptiness. He sighed and used his jeans as a rough pillow. The moment his eyes were closed he could not open them again. But Isaac did not rest. As the sleep drifted him into an immune environment of dreams, Isaac felt as though he were walking through deep snow, with a frozen mist clutching the air around him. As he struggled to move forward, he witnessed a great wall of ice.
"Bboon" whispered across the image, a voice that sounded like a twig across snakeskin "Father of the Dark Ones. Son of Geewayding. Bringer of illness. Maker of children's tears." The high mass of ice reached to the cloud filled sky, and perforated it deeply. The wall moved. Slow. The hulking destruction seen upon its' base was immense. A single hut, made of birchbark and animal hides sat at the base, with bones strewn around it. A family was struggling inside to survive, and the father was going mad with violent dreams of flesh and blood.
Isaac tried to call out to them, but was ignored. Then a band of young men arrived, led by a man near the age of the father.
"Brother!" cried the newcomers' leader, "He brought us a dream to end the starvation! Come! Meet with us in council!". The father looked to his three starving children, and his emaciated wife, and quickly exited the lodge.
"Death staves off death. Blood quenches its' thirst. The Great Bird Gaagaageenh has made us a deal. We give him one life, and he will give us many lives to feed off of for the winter. But we must make a mask, and do a dance for Gaagaageenh to arrive without killing us all."
The father looked to his lodge and asked "Who will we give to him? And do not ravens feast off of the already dead?" The brother nodded and responded "Yes, we must cut the body ourselves so that it is meat, and not living flesh. He said my brother must decide which he can give up. You must sacrifice whoever you can live without."
With a raging, fearful shout, the father leaped to his feet and screamed "No! I cannot live without them all!", which made his brother shake his head sadly
"Then they will all die, unless we give one of them up. You have been dreamt to be The Dancer. And He has said it must be done." The father wept, his tears streaming and freezing to his face and clothing. His braids hung limply as he turned and nodded in defeat.
"My youngest" he said, with great weight of despair in his voice, "She is ill, and has not known much about life to begin with. But you must carve the mask. I will do nothing until you make the mask."
Before his brother left, the father stopped him and asked "Will she suffer?". His brother hesitated and then slowly nodded and left. The father wept harder.
The snow blew up as a flurry and as the snow subsided, Isaac could tell it had been many days. The brother arrived alone. In a bundle of wolfhide tucked under his arm was the disturbed mask. The mask was carved out of an ancient cedar, whose wood was stained dark with hemlock bark dye and embellished with those large, demonic feathers.
The father led his youngest child out and they walked away from the camp. The snow stirred up and the next time Isaac could see, they were near a river valley at the base of the glacier. The father hugged his daughter and whispered what appeared to be a loving goodbye and words of comfort. The daughter, seeing the mask being adorned on her father, began to cry and beg to go back to the camp. The men held her, and the brother gave a drink of a ruddy brown substance to her father.
After many moments, her father -no more than a man possessed now- began to dance around her, chanting a guttural sound. A sound was the best way to describe it for Isaac, as it was not melodic. More growling and evil than any sound he had heard in his own time. As the father twirled around his daughter, he revealed a long stilletto of bone and skewered his daughter's foot to the ground. Her scream was such that it froze Isaac to the core and sent prickles through his skin. Her father laughed maniacally and continued to dance.
"Uncle! Save me please!" she cried through sobs of terror. The brother turned away, obvious tears streaming down his face.
"This is for your family, Zaamong. We don't want to, but we must." Her wails grew as her father brandished a blade of stone and dove at her. The sights that went on from there, Isaac could not fathom, or conceive the violence. The screaming continued as the ghastly sacrifice waged forward. It was all she could do to choke out blood with her sobs.
"Father, please. It hurts, can we stop now?" The response was a crazed scream from the masked madman. Only then, finally, her life was extinguished. The bone stiletto, which pinned her to the earth was yanked out.
Her killer, her own father, stared at the bloody mess through the horrifying eyes of the mask and looked to the sky, searching with sightless eyes. He continued to dance again, growling a new tone, higher and droning.
As this sound echoed off the wall of ice, it was responded to with a great, massive caw. Quorks of joy and pleasure resounded through the steppes and forests, and finally a shadow blotted out the sun as the massive beast, Gaagaageenh, arrived to claim His tribute. It looked mostly like a bird. Though the feathers reminded Isaac of a raven, the head was more vulture in style. Its’ talons were like that of a great bird of prey, or perhaps a terrifying reptilian creature. Unlike a bird though, the creature had human, calculating eyes. He stared at the men with eyes of hunger as He alighted. Slowly He strode forward, like some dinosaur-like creature straight from Hell itself.
It eyed the slain child and reached to take a bite when the brother of the girl's killer stopped it with a loud shout of "Wait!". The bird, for lack of a better description of the thing, turned irritatedly to face the man who said "We will be cared for? We just killed one of our own for you, as you said to do in our dreams. We need to see your side of the promise Dark One."
A hissing screech was the tone and accent of Gaagaageenh's reply "Spawn of First Man. Pitiful creature. I could kill you now as you stand. I am forever, for I am the Illusion." The fear in the man's eyes seemed to seep out of him like rivers. "The mask is immortal, and when worn, it will call me. With every year, you must call me, and give me your young ones. Only then, I will repay your gift. You are in my debt, and will be until the end of the circle. Only when the Illusion's circle ends, will you be free of your tributes. Fail just once, and I will wipe you out, like my father Bboon is doing to your land. But with more vehemence and swift speed." At this Gaagaageenh pulled the corpse closer by his massive talons. "Continue this, and I will gift you until the end of the Illusion." When finished these words, the great beast of all Madness grasped his prize, and soared off into the skies.
The father slowly came to, after his brother's men removed his mask. When he saw the blood and massive tracks left in the snow, he screamed his madness. Before his brother could halt him, he slit his own throat. The snow reddened as he gurgled with a terrible attempt to continue screaming. Even after his eyes dimmed into death, the attempts to scream repeated on and on. Isaac in turn screamed with terror, and a slight loss of his mind, as the world flew into a ferocious flurry of snow, sleet and horrifying imagery. "Illusion is all, and nothing." whispered the mysterious voice.
Isaac woke up in a cold sweat. Realizing where he was, he resisted the urge to scream out his insane sights and terrible dreams. He sat up and breathed heavily, before stepping out of the tent. He breathed in the cool evening air, standing shirtless in the moonlight. He panted and tried to take control of his shaking. Before he could, he stumbled into a slight indentation in the earth, and turned to look at what he had tripped into. The sight returned all of his terrors to reality, when he stared into the soft track of a great, massive bird. The sound of feathers cutting the wind echoed through the night, and a maddened laugh echoed in his brain, as the shivers and shudders of repulsed fear rose up again.
*****
Isaac shook all over as he stared at the track. It was twice the length of his footprint, and much wider than he could imagine. Wickedly sharp talon marks dotted the earth three inches beyond the end of each toe. He closed his eyes tightly and counted to ten, and then opened them up again, but the track remained.
"Gaagaageenh, The Dancer of Madness awaits you. His hunger increases." whispered a voice from the trees on the western end of the circle. Isaac's eyes darted around, his mind slowly slipping into an uncontrollable place of madness.
"No," he muttered frantically "it is just a bad trip. Maybe all of this night is just the Salvia. Maybe I am still in the hallucination?" A crazed laughter echoing from the woods was the only reply to his statement.He walked fast to the southern end of the grounds, to wash his face in the latrine sink. He kept his eyes downward, terrified at the thought of looking up, expecting to see the malevolent avian beast the moment he looked up. Isaac's mind was racing, as was his pulse. Blood pumped in his head, and he could hear his own pulse.
"Keep it up and the blood'll burst out of your neck Isaac" spoke a voice that sent ice-cold shivers down his spine. To his right, leaning again the rope fence surrounding the dance circle was the man with the amber eyes.
"Who in the hell are you anyways? You have that fucking feather, and you seem to know everything in my mind." The man smirked as Isaac's frantic rambling, and the smile sent a wash of fear through Isaac,
"Are you Gaagaageenh?". The question sent the man into a fit of laughter.
"No, my friend," said the man with amber eyes, "I am not the Dancer of Madness. My name is not important, though some folks have been a bit creative and nicknamed me Ithaqua. Others-" He paused, as if to pick up a scent "They call me the Whisperer in the Black Night. Or Monster of the North. But the old people called me Wiindigo".
Isaac's fear of the man finally made sense "Wendigo?" he hissed at the man with amber eyes, "The fucking cannibal thing in those old Native mythology books?" He took a step back slowly, looking with his mind for an escape route.
"Calm down kid, if I was going to eat you, it would'a bin' when you we met earlier. I can't touch you, you were Chosen." The creature with the amber eyes breathed slowly, looking up into Isaac’s eyes slowly before saying "And the name is Wiindigo, the modern pronunciation loses the power of the name. Always hated that form of the name.. people seem to get sloppy with their words these days. Too much slang and short forms. The language existed the way it did for a damned reason. At least up here in the north country the words and meanings are respected, though only by a few."
As Isaac realized the fact that a Wiindigo was speaking to him, he tried to fathom the situation rationally. But there was no rationality to the situation. He was speaking to a demon of ancient stories. A type of boogeyman, whose existence was laughed at by a great number of people. Anger rose up in Isaac.
"Next you'll say Faeries and Dwarves exist" said Isaac sarcastically, realizing it could just all be a lie from a man of loose sanity. "If by Faeries, you mean Memegwesi, the Little People? Then yes. And Boy, I would cut the attitude and forget your opinion of not believing. Cuz' though I am bound by my Brother to leave you be, Memegwesi are not, and they get right pissed when people make derogatory comments about them. Seen one boy I was stalking for six months piss them off by peeing all over one of their sacred places, and then I got to see him get dismembered in seconds. Even I was a tad disturbed."
Isaac shook his head to get the image away as he tried to figure out everything the Wiindigo was talking about,.
"Bound by your Brother? Who is your Brother?". The Wiindigo's shoulders slumped in disbelief, "Really? The giant feather in my hat, and appearing whenever your visions speak to you hasn't clued you in? Why the hell the guy that is Chosen would be so dense is beyond me. My Brother, is the big freakin' bird that you have been having visions of, you dolt."
Isaac's eyes widened. After a time he regained composure and breathed slowly, letting his thoughts return.
"So," he said with discomfort, "What do I call you? Why are you here speaking to me? Why am I having visions of all of this shit? How are you the brother of a bird?". The Wiindigo smiled with a softness to his eyes. "And another question.. why do you not seem so terrifying?".
"Well," started the Wiindigo "Let me answer your questions out of order. Ithaqua has become a popular nickname, and I have become comfortable with it. I am not terrifying, because new times call for a new look. I can't consume people as I have in the past, when they had no choice but to enter the dark woods in winter. I've become an Urban Indian Spirit. My ways have changed as well, but you don't need to hear about that. I am brother to Gaagaageenh through our father, Bboon. You seem confused that a man-looking thing could be the brother of a bird-looking thing, yet you never wondered how a giant mountain of ice could father a bird-thing? Your logic is amusing Zhaaginashe." He motioned for Isaac to follow him, "Come, an elder is awakening from our talking, let us go to the western end, where no one is".
Isaac halted and said "No, I am not going anywhere near that tree".
Ithaqua gave him a puzzled look, and then grinned "Y'mean that pine tree? Its' the Illusion getting to you, relax. The tree has nothing to do with any of this. If you had seen the raven on a rock, you would have considered the rock evil too. Its' just a perch for the birdies." He walked ahead of Isaac, who noticed that Ithaqua moved without making a sound.
Ithaqua leaned against the pine tree and pulled a cigarette out of a box. The paper was black, with a silver wrap on the filter. "Want one? Nevermind, you don't want this". He returned the box to his shirt pocket and the cigarette lit on its' own. After a few drags of the tobacco, Ithaqua began his story. "Bboon is the one that brought us to this existence. He was one of the Old Spirits. He battled Giizis, Zaawaa and Sh'Kodae for millenia, and then brought forth children from the womb of Mizzu-Kumik-Kwae to help him win the war. We feasted on the Children of Giizis, which made it difficult for prayers to get to Giizis, who was the father of Zaawaa and Sh'kodae. Without prayer, he weakened. The closer to our father Bboon, the stronger our medicine, and powers are. When a halfbreed of Giizis' allies came forth, he rallied all of our enemies together and drove our father Bboon far north. Geewayding, our grandfather, gave Bboon a great lodge in the northlands where we ruled. And there Bboon rests, waiting for his time of power again. Then we will throw away our guises, and swarm forth, returning order of madness to this chaotic sanity that the modern world has created. Reality within the Illusion."
"What is the Illusion? I keep hearing about it." queried Isaac, trying to keep up.
Ithaqua took another drag of his cigarette and flicked the ash off the end of the cherry red ember. He looked up and smiled "Ah, the Illusion. Gaagaageenh began a cult of followers among the Children of Giizis, calling them the Children of Raven. They were halfbreeds. Part Man, but also had a part of the darkness within them. Gaagaageenh dreamt of a magic to overpower his own foes, and to control his followers, which he called "The Illusion". Without their prayers and sacrifices, he could not dream long enough to continue the Illusion. Without the Illusion, he could not prepare his Children for the return of Bboon. And without their preparations, we would not be able to return to our place of power." After anothing drag, he looked at Isaac and sighed self-consciously and said "I am sure a lot of this is over your head, and most of the names mean nothing to you, but its' only once a year that I get to talk to someone about these things. Consider this Christmas for a very very naughty thing. So bear with me."Isaac nodded slowly, feeling sympathy for the devilish creature. ”So why was I Chosen? And what for? And why are you telling me anything?". Ithaqua seemed to measure the remaining tobacco in his cigarette before flicking the ash away and saying "I am speaking to you, so I can help prepare you for your duty Isaac. You were Chosen, to be the Dancer for this year." Isaac's stomach lurched and he shook his head, "But why?" He cried out before silencing himself and forcing himself to whisper, "Why me?".
Ithaqua raised an eyebrow and paused the hand which was lifting the cigarette to his lips, "Isn't it obvious, Nephew?" He smirked with a quick breath of his cigarette. The words to be said next sent Isaac reeling, and his sanity slipped even further. "You are a Child of Raven."
*****
Before Ithaqua could finish speaking, Isaac turned and ran. He ran to the tent and pushed the tent flap out of the way. It was dark inside of the tent, but something odd clicked in his head. He knew he had zipped the tent door flap shut when he left the tent originally. Why was it open without him unzipping it? He looked at Gabrielle's sleeping bag and knew she was not there. "Gabby?" He asked into the darkness, "Where the hell are you?" Did she go looking for him? It was clear where he was. The tent door faced west, and the moonlight had lit up his position very clearly. As Isaac crawled out of the empty tent, he tried to think of where she could have gone, and began to worry. The terror he had from his speaking with the Wiindigo named Ithaqua had left him in mental shambles. But missing Gabrielle reaffirmed his focus, and helped him regain sanity. He had to find her, for his own sake, and perhaps for her's.
He first went to the other camp, where she had socialized earlier in the night. It was now nearing three in the morning, or perhaps later, from what Isaac could guess. He quietly opened the tent door, but other than Mikey, it was empty. Mikey was laying in his sleeping bag, snoring loudly. It was the only reason Isaac knew anyone was in there.
"Mikey," called Isaac, getting worried, "Wake up you big bastard." This didn't do anything but make Mikey shift onto his side. Isaac rubbed his forehead before shaking the bottom of the sleeping bag, trying to jolt Mikey awake. This in turn did nothing. Finally Isaac swatted Mikey as hard as he could on the thigh and hollered "Wake the hell up dammit!". Mikey sat up with such a start he nearly kissed his toes from the momentum.
"The fuck?" was all Mikey could muster as he looked around confusedly. "Where is everyone? Who the fuck woke me-" That was when Mikey saw Isaac and froze solid. 'You!" He cried out, "What the hell are you doing here?"
Isaac leaned back on his heels, trying to stay out of hitting range. "Gabrielle and your friends are missing. Do you know where they are?" asked Isaac, again trying to keep distance as Mikey moved out of his sleeping bag and reached through the cluttered floor for his shoes.
"How would I know where they are? I've been alseep since.. since.. well, the last time I saw you." This last part made Mikey visibly shudder, and Isaac softened his anger towards the man for a moment. It was clear what he saw and heard terrified him, and after Isaac's night, he could sympathize.
"Look, how about we go find our friends? Its' late and I am worried, as I am sure you are." said Isaac in a soft tone, Mikey looked apprehensively, and then nodded slowly.
As they left the tent, Isaac turned to Mikey and said, "Let's just get in car and go look for them. Its' the big station wagon over at my camp."
Mikey froze and said "Why your car? My car is closer."
Isaac paused and looked back, thinking it through. "You have how many friends missing?" he asked, to which Mikey responded "Six." Isaac thought and said "and I'm missing Gabrielle, that means nine people in your car. Think you can fit them all?"
Mikey tensed and then his shoulders dropped in defeat "No, I can't. But I am not driving with you. We can cover more ground in two cars anyways."
Isaac thought it through and nodded in agreement "Okay, that works. How many roads are on this reserve? Do you know it well?"
Mikey smirked "I grew up here Bub. Two roads. The one coming in from the highway, and the other is that one going down the lakeshore" He said this pointing his thumb to a turn off the main road.
Isaac sighed and said "which do you want to take? I don't know that other road very well, but if there aren't any side roads, I can do it."
Mikey had chosen the other road, telling Isaac to go back towards the highway, and turn back after an hour of driving and searching. That way at sunrise, they would know if anything was wrong or not. Isaac doubted that the road along the lake was an hour long, but Mikey explained he would go to his place and get his four-wheeler to check some bush-roads. As Isaac got into the car, finding Gabrielle's keys between the seat and door, he took a mental note of any places he could guess the others had all gone.
Isaac watched Mikey drive away before checking the rearview mirror. He jumped to see Ithaqua standing behind the car. As Isaac was fumbling to lock the doors, he noticed that the passenger door lock would not react to his flips of the switch. Ithaqua casually opened the door and slid into the seat beside him. The broad feathers imbedded into the Wiindigo’s hatband brushed the ceiling of the old worn down car, as Ithaqua coolly lit a cigarette.
“Well, let’s go find your friend” he said through his snake-oil grin.
“Get the fuck out of the car!” hollered Isaac, his fear of the Wiindigo blending with rage and frustration. Ithaqua raised an eyebrow and dragged in a deep breath of the sweetly sick smoke “I’m here to make sure you get to where she is Bucko, so shut up and drive”. At this, he smoothly rested in the seat, tilting his hat over his eyes as he smoked the black cigarette.
As Isaac drove, he tried to ignore the fact that a monster of ancient times slept beside him. Thoughts of the past night flooded his mind, and he struggled to keep control over his focus. If he was not careful he might miss a light in a house, or a well hidden car. Who knows where they had taken Gabrielle? And why the Hell was this all happening to him? Why did he have to be Chosen? Why must he be a child of Raven? And why was this demonic man with a silver smile sleeping beside him? As he wondered this, going further and further down the road, he turned to stare at Ithaqua, hoping to figure him out.
Without raising his chest to speak, or lifting his hat brim to make his words more clearly heard, Ithaqua calmly said “You shoulda kept your eyes on the road.” Isaac turned to see the pot hole, but it was too late. His fender hit the dirt wall, and at the speed he was going, this drove him hard into the steering wheel. The car bucked and groaned as it died, the back wheels spinning slower and slower with a sudden loss of motor function.
Isaac crawled out of the crumpled car, and turned around to survey the damage. It was not severe, but it was bad enough to keep them from using the car until a tow-truck arrived. Ithaqua seemed to have vanished again, but Isaac did not notice.
"Not the same one." He stated quietly. "We are a kilometre away from that pothole. This one wasn't here when I arrived today."
He stood around not knowing what to do, before Isaac opened up the back of the old station wagon. Out of it, he pulled an emergency kit, with brightly coloured tapes and cloths to cover the car with, so no one collided with it. He then wrote a note and stuck it under the window wiper. The note explained what had happened, and that he had gone back for help.
As Isaac absorbed the scenario, and realized how truly alone he was, with an unimaginable force working to cause him harm, he tried to simultaneously ignore it. However, the magnitude of such evil workings was too powerful for him to overcome, and his fear finally snapped. He cried out and sobbed, his body shaking with the hysteric spasms of a terror-filled mind. He cried into the darkness his anguish, bellowing his defiance and frustration. It was a few minutes before Isaac could overcome the fear and notice the light in the woods. A fire had been lit somewhere in the dark forest, the flames dancing boldly across the birches and aspens. "Move on." It whispered. Isaac stood up, and after staring one more time at the broken station wagon, walked into the woods towards the fire.
***** As he stepped into the woods, Isaac could hear the maniacal laughter echo through his head. Throbbing with the pulsing blood in his temples, he could barely focus enough to keep walking in a straight line. The instinct to run was overwhelmed by the need to walk forward. He felt possessed, no longer in control of his actions. He was compelled, and convinced that he must walk to the firelight.
"Echoing within you, it bounces in your brain, and soon, it will be released for all to hear. It waits in you. He walks with you." The voice inside his head, no longer his own, deadened his stride. Now his feet were heavy with confusion, regret and unfathomed sorrow. Geographically, he was lost. But he knew where the voices were leading him. He knew where the fire was, and that terrified him more than any idea of being stranded in the wilderness.
He marched onwards, through the unending woodlands. The old man's beard lichen -dangling from unseen spruce branches- danced before his eyes in the firelight as wavering shadows. The birch trees glowed red, orange and a multitude of shades between. He shivered in unison with the aspen leaves as he walked into the clearing. There was no one within eyesight, and his ears picked up no sounds nearby. For all intensive purposes, he was alone. He looked around, scanning the darkness for eyes, or a voice. Familiarity with the site seemed to swarm his paranoia. As he looked towards the fire, he nearly gave up on finding a clue for why he was there, when he saw the heap. It was the size of a small dog, and between him and the fire.
Isaac held his breath, and then leant down to investigate. Upon touching the fabric, it felt eerily important to him, and he began to open it, when he heard the voice,
"Don't'cha know its' frowned upon when you touch someone elses' sacred bundle?". Isaac bolted upright and stared into the amber, demonoid eyes.
"I am here Ithaqua, no thanks to you. You nearly fucking killed me out there. And why did you kidnap Gabrielle? Just to lure me here for you and your Brother's sick ritual?".
The Wiindigo stared through him, and grinned that coy, violent-drenched smile. "Now Isaac, I know you are upset. But I didn't cause any of this. I am here, only in a spiritual point. The Children of Raven have no leader for their cult, and so someone has to pull the Ringleader job. Me being so close to the corrupted minds already, it makes it easy for me to lead them in ceremony." Ithaqua coolly stated the facts as he reached into his pocket for the box of black and silver cigarettes. After lighting one he inhaled deeply, and with a bit of venom responded “And you weren’t in any damned danger, so cool it will you?” At this he walked to where Isaac was standing, and looked down at the bundle.
Ithaqua lifted up Gabrielle's bundle, and seemed to be appraising it. "Y'know," he said slowly "I have been all over Canada, and some of the northern States. Minnesota, Wisconsin, Washington, Maine. You name it, I was there at one point or another. I have noticed one thing about your people. Well, your biological ethnicity. We are your people. But, well, Whitefolk." He turned and dumped the contents of Gabrielle's bundle onto the pine needle-ridden ground. "There are two kinds; Those that don't give a shit about what their ancestors, or their government did, or is doing, to the original people. Or, they care so much that they go beyond rational thinking. They will become so fundamentalist regarding Indian rights, Indian heritage and the Indian way, that they bypass and ignore the fundamental building blocks of the Indian way." Ithaqua pushed with his toe the rattle laying amongst the other bundle items. "The ones that don't care? They might say 'oh, that is horrible.' when they hear something happened to some native, or a native community. But deep down inside, they have not a care in the world for those people. They just move on with their day. Desensitized. Disconnected. So fully engulfed in the flames of Illusion. Whitefolk are the perfect recruits for Our cause."
Isaac watched Ithaqua, as he ranted, seeming to glow in the beauty of his own opinions. Ithaqua studied each item on the soil intimately. "But those that go to the other extreme? They are also part of the Illusion. They lose sight of the Red Road. They ignore the fundamental rules of living, that Giizis, Nanaboozhoo and the Seven Old Ones made so long ago. They make up their own ideas. Buying their Medicines. Using their alcohol. Giving themselves' their own 'Indian' names. This strengthens the Illusion, as they all play make-believe, and make it all seem fake. We get closer to our return due to them, just as much as the 'Not give a shit' category. Your bloodline comes from a people of two extremes. No balance. This is good. This is what we need. Maybe that is why you were Chosen." Isaac shuddered at the word 'Chosen'. it conjured up memories of the violent scene from the time of Bboon, the Glacier-god.
As Isaac turned to face the fire, more people could be seen lurking in the shadows. Some he recognized from the campfire at Mikey's camp. They stared into the flames, with serious expressions to their faces. But behind the sober attitudes, they seemed to have excitement and joy in their eyes. Some people he had never seen before. And behind them, there seemed to be many other beings, inhuman. Their silhouettes were absurdly shaped, and their presence sent shudders through Isaac that shook his very core. Tree-like, yet unnatural.Isaac turned as he heard a crunching sound. His eyes lighted upon Ithaqua, crushing the rattle beneath his foot. "Foolish toys. Playing Make-Believe-Injun." He cussed this out under a hissing breath, then turned to realize Isaac was watching him, "So Nephew, are you ready to Dance?" Isaac tried to say no, but the response was not within him. Ithaqa smiled that ghastly, black-souled grin, and responded, "Good answer. Though I suppose I should have finished answering the rest of your questions. You were not lured out here by Gabrielle. You were brought out here by your own sub-conscious. Through Him calling you through your dreams. It is why you recognize this place, without ever setting foot here before. Mikey's friends came out to help with the ritual. However, Gabrielle will be the most help of all."
As Ithaqua's words sunk in, Isaac could hear a struggled scream as Gabrielle was dragged from the darkness. From under the devilish Wiindigo's arm came a bundle of wolf fur. As Gabrielle was held in place by the fire, the fluttering of wings could be heard high in the death-blackened sky. The wings seemed to stir a breeze, for the fur bundle opened magically. When he saw what was within the bundle, Isaac finally sunk into total madness. For staring back at him, was a bone stilleto, a large stone blade, and the damnable Mask of Raven.
*****
Isaac's mind raced. Images of the mutilated child from his dream blended with the colours of the blood-freezing Ice Being, Bboon. These images blended with the track outside of his tent, and the flames before him. The terrors of this night, swelled beyond any he could have ever imagined. Death was within every pulsing, swaying leaf around him. Ghastly ritual and demonic creation lay waste around him constantly. The colours of death were so bright within his mind, he felt as if he would go blind. He clenched his eyes shut and wished with that all he had for the sight to disappear when he opened them. However, when his eyes broke open, he was in front of the very same scene. Ithaqua stood silently, holding the wolfskin bundle.
He tore his eyes away from the Wiindigo, in time to see a man step from the darkness, and walk towards the fire. The man was old, his hair white. His copper coloured skin shone against the light of the flames, as he lifted a leather pouch from around his neck. He knelt beside a copper pot, unseen until now. Within it, water churned with violent boiling. Fresh mushrooms were removed from the buckskin bag, and the old man held them, praying quietly in words Isaac could not understand. The mushrooms had a red skin on the cap, with white spots upon the skin. The old man pulled an old, beaten up knife from its' sheath and slowly peeled the red skin from the mushroom. He dropped this into the pot, and did so with nine more mushrooms, giving them a long boil before cutting up and tossing in the remains of the mushrooms. After this was done, the old man quietly stood up and disappeared back into the shadows. "Miskwedo." said Ithaqua, "the mushroom which Gaagaageenh created. It grows amongst the trees which we like, the pines and poplars. It will release you from the Illusion. When the tea is ready, you shall drink it, and put on the mask."
Isaac shuddered, and for several minutes he stood still, trembling hard. Gabrielle was held firmly by two large men. Isaac had no chance of beating them off of her, and even if he could, they were surrounded.
She shook in fear, and cried out "Isaac! What the fuck is going on? What do they want from us?". He tried to think of the words to say. The reality was, she was a sacrifice, and if the crazed crowd had their way, he would be her executioner. He turned his head and looked her in the eyes, and then slowly scanned the crowd in the black forest.
"They want me to do something Gabby. Something that is very fucked up." The last two words he added more emphasis on.
"What do they want you to do Zaac?" she asked, visibly and audibly upset. Isaac cringed and kept his eyes lowered.
"I love you Gabby. I always have, did you know that?". He looked up to see her soft eyes full of regret,
"No, I didn't. I always thought you may have had a crush when we first met, but it seemed like you were always content with just being friends." It cost every ounce of effort he had to keep from breaking down and crying. He coughed hard and glared at Ithaqua.
"Someone else. Anyone else," he demanded from the Wiindigo.
Ithaqua shook his head slowly and said, "You just explained exactly why it must be who it is, Nephew."
Gabrielle's head turned quickly to Isaac as she frantically shouted "This is your uncle? Can't he help us?" Ithaqua smiled and for the first time turned and seemed to acknowledge Gabrielle's presence.
"Dear little Child of Giizis," he said cooly, walking towards her, his hips and shoulders swaying like the hips and shoulders of a great panther, "He is not my biological nephew. Though we are of the same family. And I am helping you. You will soon be released from the Illusion, and Isaac here will be the one giving you that honour." His attention towards her clearly confused Gabrielle, as she shrank back from his words onto the ground.
As Ithaqua walked away from the shocked and confused girl, he looked to Isaac and nodded permission to go near her. Isaac faced Gabrielle and as he walked towards her, her captives let her go. She crumpled to the ground, her knees unsteady. Isaac knelt in front of her and held her hand.
“Dude, those friends of Mikey’s are such assholes! They dragged me out of the tent and took off through the woods with me. I thought they were going to rape me or something! What is this place? Who are all of these people? Who the fuck is that uncle of yours’? He’s got a weird vibe, and his aura... he doesn’t have one!” Isaac looked away and inhaled intensely, trying to invoke even a minuscule scrap of courage.
"Gabrielle, I love you, and I mean it truly and honestly. You know this right?" Gabrielle’s shoulder rose into a numb shrug as she said
“Yeah Zaac, I know.” She carefully looked into his eyes and Isaac could swear that her expression conveyed the impression that she finally was able to minutely pierce the Illusion,
“We’re in a pretty fucked up situation, aren’t we?”. The shrunken, defeated tone in
her voice struck him with an impact that felt like his guts had leapt out of his throat. His soul felt dead. “Yeah Gabby,” he whispered solemnly, “We are”. He kissed her hard, and she held him close. Streaming tears cascaded down her cheeks, dripping heavily onto her smudged and stained top.
“Took us this long huh?” She meekly whispered, trying to lighten the tone futilely. Behind him breathed Ithaqua’s glacial voice
“It is time, Nephew."
He kissed Gabrielle another time before releasing her from his firm embrace. Isaac stood up slowly, and stared into space. He then looked to the Wiindigo and walked towards him.
“Why do you torment me, and let me know that she could be with me, when you expect me to kill her?” He hissed to Ithaqua.
“Because it will give you peace when you go.” Explained Ithaqua, with a compassionate air to his words.
“And why the fuck would you care? You’re a goddamn monster!” Isaac growled. Ithaqua looked into Isaac’s eyes, and for a moment looked almost regretful.
“Because just like you, I too have a soul. Mine is just twisted, and very disturbed.”
Corrupted, depraved feelings sunk deeper and fuller into Isaac’s soul. It washed over him like a great, deep, dark wave of frigid water. His heart went cold, and his eyes darkened to the world for a moment. Those who witnessed it would later tell themselves that his eyes looked to be the hue of a piece of jet. As he stared hatefully into the vibrantly dark yellow eyes of Ithaqua, his voice growled out the last words he would speak, “Let’s finish this, Wiindigo."
Ithaqua motioned with his strong, foreboding hand, and the old man returned to lift the copper pot off of the coals. As the tea steeped, Ithaqua lifted the mask out from the wolfskin bag. The mask was old, aged beyond any human perception. Immense feathers of a blueish-black hue stood out like the mane of a lion. The wood was stained dark, a brown tone perhaps, but the colour was too dark to decipher. It was not black, but a colour unidentified by man's concept of the colour spectrum. As Isaac stared into the hollow, yet living eyes of the mask, he could feel his gut twist into inconceivable shapes.
The old man poured the tea into a cone-shaped cup made of birchbark, and handed it to the Wiindigo. The brewed solution was a ruddy brown, and smelled of bizarre, earthy scents. "Freedom" whispered the voice within him joyfully, almost frantically. Isaac, paused and tried to feel his soul. His heart felt dulled and blackened. His mind was darkened with the vibrant, violent colours of the power he could feel pulsing through everything around him.
Ithaqua held the cup to Isaac's lips, "Soon, you will feel the true sanity that is madness. You will dance, and the dance will bring Him forth. She is ready, as are you." Isaac looked up into the soulless eyes of Ithaqua, and he could see a connection deeper than he ever could before with the Wiindigo. Isaac opened his mouth and took in the hot, bitter tea. The taste made him want to gag, but he drank deeper. His stomach churned like a great maelstrom from the chemicals of the mushroom. In a heaving gulp, he swallowed the remaining tea and looked up to Ithaqua's blood-lusting eyes. The Wiindigo smiled and lifted the horrid mask up over Isaac's head and slowly placed it over his face.
"When you come back, you will have no choice but to end your own life too. For now, focus on the sound."
There was no sound at first. He strained to hear it as the dark eyes of the masket lined up with his own. He felt a heavy antler handle be placed in his left hand, and a smooth deer leg bone was gripped within his right hand. He squeezed them tight as Gabrielle's sudden questions of what was going on faded away. He heard the nothingness in all of its' exaggerated muffled tone. But soon he could hear cawing from far away. He strained to listen, and soon the cawing was following by heavy wingbeats. He looked up and felt something dive within him.
His body churned and twisted as a voice called out "Welcome to the world outside of the Illusion, Son." His body stepped forward without his consent and began to walk on its' own. "I am proud of you. Now it is my time to feed. Sing while I lift the stilletto." Isaac began to moan out the tones that had haunted his dreams and undreaming hours all night. His feet stopped moving, and for a moment he felt silence. The last thing he heard previous to being completely consumed by Gaagaageenh, was Gabrielle's blood-chilling scream of pained horror.
