Ice Trilogy Page 10

  I opened my eyes.

  And saw the morning sky. The stars had faded. The moon had paled. My face was submerged up to my eyes in warm water. I moved and raised my head. I lay in an indentation formed in the Ice by the contours of my body. This naturally created bath was filled with warm water, with the heat that had left my body. I felt surprisingly calm and well. Calmer and better than I had ever felt before.

  I sat up. I felt no exhaustion from the previous night. My chest was a little sore, but that was all. I looked at it: a large bruise had appeared in the middle of my chest. This was the place where I had hit myself against the Ice. I smiled. I touched my chest. Then I stood up.

  The rising sun illuminated the hillocks in the east: the Siberian day had come. A new day on the planet Earth. The first meaningful day of my existence. I finally understood why I was born and what it was I had to do.

  My brain went to work.

  The indentation where my body had lain all night resembled the letter Φ: my arms had been resting around my body in half circles. In the center of the half rings, two oblongs of Ice surrounded by water jutted up, formed during the night as the heat of my arms had melted the Ice around them. I kicked the left oblong with all my strength. The base cracked. I grabbed it with my hands and broke it off. I lifted it and held it to my chest. The Ice vibrated. My heart resonated in time with it. The strength of the Ice filled my head. I lifted the massive chunk easily and showed it to the pale morning sky.

  I cried aloud.

  My cry carried over the swamp, bounced off the distant mounds, and returned to me in the voices of my brothers and sisters who were lost among humans. The first ray of sun hit me in the eyes. The Divine Ice sparkled in the sun. I had to return to the world of people. To search.

  I put the piece of Ice on my shoulder and set off along the surface of the Ice in the direction my awakened heart told me to take: westward. Smoothing out, the Ice descended gradually under the water. Submerging along with it, I moved the green duckweed aside. When the water reached my mouth, I swam, clutching the chunk of Ice firmly. And soon my feet touched the silty bottom of the swamp. This wasn’t the previous viscous quagmire: you could feel a different sort of ice — the permafrost. Pushing my feet against the earthly ice, I climbed calmly out of the swamp. I looked back. The hollow of duckweed had closed up, hiding the iceberg, as though no one had ever violated its peace. I shut my eyes. My heart felt the entire iceberg. It was huge. An eighth of it had lodged in the permafrost; the part underwater was only the top edge, smoothed and melted into the concave form of the surface.

  My heart knew: the Ice would wait as long as was needed.

  I turned and set off with the chunk of Ice on my shoulder. Naked, smeared with silt, I walked through the sun-flooded, dead taiga. My heart sang, calling to the Ice and remembering my true name: “Bro, Bro, Bro...”

  I lost all sense of time and didn’t feel the weight of the heavy chunk on my shoulder, nor the sharp stones and branches under my feet. The charred, standing forest gave way to toppled trees. The knolls and hummocks, strewn with broken branches and trunks, swam past. The Ice melted a bit on my shoulder, turning to water. Its occasional drops drove me on. I walked along, knowing with certainty where I was headed. My head was clear: during the night it was as though it had been cleansed of everything petty, disturbing, alarming, pointless. My thoughts were surprisingly quick and precise. With every step I discovered anew the world in which I had lived for twenty years. And this filled me with new strength.

  Suddenly, descending into a glen, I heard ahead of me snarls, wheezes, and a strange whimpering sound. I walked on, rather than turning away. The snarls grew louder, moans could be heard. The bushes parted ahead of me. And I saw two bears tearing away pieces of a dying, pregnant elk. One of them held her by the throat; the other was ripping open her huge belly. A wheezing moan issued from the elk’s mouth, her beautiful long legs thrashed helplessly in the air. The elk’s bones cracked under the bears’ ferocious paws and fangs. The animal’s black belly, dappled with white, gave way, and along with her rosy-yellowish guts the baby elk, not yet born, fell out. Dark, with wet fur and large moist eyes, its gentle rosy-white mouth barely managed to open before bear fangs closed around its head with a crunch. A fountain of the newborn’s crimson blood sprayed from the bear’s mouth. In the distance another growl could be heard: a large bear cub hurried to join his parents’ meal. Rolling up in a brown ball, he dug into the elk’s entrails, grumbling with impatience.

  This bloody scene in the midst of the dead forest graphically demonstrated to me the essence of earthly life: a creature that had not yet even been born became food for other creatures. The utter absurdity of earthly existence was here in this wheezing elk; in the convulsive, twisted lips of the baby elk, who had never managed to draw breath on Earth; in the furious grumbling of the bear cub; in the invariably good-natured face of the bear smeared with the fresh blood spurting from the torn neck artery.

  But the chaos of earthly existence wasn’t frightening to me, since I had known the Harmony of the Primordial Light. Without a shudder I walked toward the beasts. They turned their bloody faces to me. Their fangs sparkled.

  I approached them, carrying the Ice.

  The beasts snarled angrily. Their jaws opened, their brown fur stood up from anger.

  I took a step. Another. A third.

  The bears roared and ran away. And I could feel that my awakening heart had frightened them. I sensed my power. With an awakened heart in my chest I could do anything. I had nothing to fear.

  I went up to the elk. Her body shuddered weakly. There was moisture in her large blue-black eyes. The blood gave off steam in the morning air, spurting from her aorta. I put my bare foot on the animal’s shoulder. It was smooth and warm. The pointless and tormented life was leaving the body of the elk. The corpse of the baby elk lay nearby. She died giving birth to him, he destroyed his mother in being born, allowing the bears to overcome her easily. And all the bears wanted was to eat. The law of earthly life. And this had been going on for hundreds of millions of years. And it might go on for billions more.

  I clutched the Ice to me. In it lay the destruction of this disharmony.

  In it was the Power of Eternity.

  It was time to strike a blow.

  It was time to correct the mistake.

  I would be the one to do it.

  Stepping over the elk’s body, I continued on my way. I walked for a long time. The Ice melted on my shoulder. But my heart led me calmly. Finally, when the sun began to lean toward sunset, I saw an Evenki camp ahead: two yurts and an empty corral. The reindeer were out to pasture. In the middle of the glade a campfire burned and venison was boiling in a huge cauldron. Here they were waiting for the return of the herd and the herders. Three dogs dozed near the fire. Seeing me they jumped up and joyfully ran to greet me: in these wild places the dogs of herders and hunters barked only at animals. But, running up to me, they recoiled and ran off with their tails between their legs, growling. I went straight to the yurt on the left. My heart led me there. I threw back the dirty strip of tanned deerskin and went inside. The light was dim, entering only through the hole at the top of the cone and through cracks in the walls. In the middle, under the hole, stood a tripod with a copper bowl. Cedar pitch smoked in the bowl, warding off insects. The bluish smoke rose to the top and disappeared through the hole. A girl lay sleeping on deerskins. She was not an Evenka; she had blond hair braided in two plaits, and a broad, high-cheekboned, freckled face. The girl was lying on her back, her arms out to the sides. With my heart I realized that she was very tired and was sleeping deeply. She was wearing a simple but well-made peasant dress with a dirt-stained hem. Next to her lay a fur vest-jacket, a head scarf, a leather belt with a large knife, a carved oak walking stick, and shoulder basket filled with wild strawberries. Farther away stood a pair of filthy boots with puttees hanging off them.

  I understood with my heart that I had been walking here all day becau
se of this girl. She was the same as I was. Her heart was also sleeping. It had to be awakened. Kneeling, I took the Ice from my shoulder and only then noticed how small the piece had become. The Ice almost fit in my palms! Most of it had melted along the way. I had to hurry, while the Ice was still with me. The girl slept soundly. Her lips were open, her tired body had given itself over to sleep with pleasure. I brought my hand with the Ice over the girl. Then stopped: no, that wasn’t the right way. My arms were strong enough now. I looked around: a bit farther off lay the carefully folded fur clothes of the reindeer herders. Pairs of leather boots stood there — homemade short boots tied with leather laces. I pulled out one lace, took the girl’s walking stick, and tied the piece of Ice firmly to the staff. Kneeling at the feet of the sleeping girl, I swung back and with all my strength hit the girl in the chest with the Ice. The Ice shattered against her breastbone and pieces flew about the yurt.

  Her sleep was so deep that she only shuddered slightly. Then, suddenly, her whole body jerked, and her blue eyes opened wide. Convulsions seized her young body, she thrashed, as if in an epileptic fit, her eyes glazed over, her mouth began to open soundlessly. And my heart felt her awakening heart. The Ice had woken it. It was like a wave that traveled from the girl, from her chest, from her heart. And with great force crashed into my heart. And flooded it. And it stood stock-still, frozen in time, joining our hearts like a bridge joins two shores. It was all so new, so powerful and unusually pleasant, that I cried out. Our hearts had joined together. And I understood who I was. I began to live, joining with another heart. And I stopped being all alone. I ceased to be a two-legged grain of sand. I became we! And this was OUR HAPPINESS!

  Tossing the staff aside, I grabbed the convulsing girl by the shoulders, lifted her, and pressed her to my chest. She thrashed, her head trembled, foam appeared on her lips. I held her even more tightly. And suddenly I heard, both with my ears and with my heart, the voice of her awakening heart: “Fer! Fer! Fer!”

  My heart spoke in reply: “Bro! Bro! Bro!”

  Our hearts began to speak with each other. It was the language of hearts. It brought them together. It was true bliss. No earthly love that I had ever experienced before could possibly be compared with this feeling. Our hearts spoke in unknown words, words only they understood. The strength of the Light sang in each word. The joy of Eternity sounded in them. They rang out, flowed, poured, and flooded our hearts. And our hearts spoke themselves. Independently of our will and our experience. All we had to do was plunge into oblivion, embracing each other. And listen, listen, listen to the conversation of our hearts. Time stopped. We disappeared in this conversation. And hung in space, forgetting who and where we were.

  Sister Fer

  I opened my right eye. And saw an enormous ear with a silver earring shaped like a fish. Right beyond the ear I could see the small faces of the Evenki. They looked at me in fright. Some were smoking pipes. My left eye wouldn’t open. Something warm and soft was in the way. I wanted to move my arms. But I couldn’t: I couldn’t feel them. I moved my head. The Evenki, noticing this, began talking to one another with great animation. Someone’s head moved next to my face. A deep, greedy breath and moan sounded. The head moved away from my face. The other person’s nose stopped pressing on my left eye. I opened it. And I saw a girl’s face. She was looking at me. The look in her blue eyes was terrible.

  It was Fer. My heart remembered everything. I had found Fer. Fer — was my sister.

  Locked in an embrace, we were kneeling in the middle of the yurt: I was naked, Fer wore her peasant dress. The Evenki people sat around us. They chattered and gesticulated.

  I tried to unlock my arms. But I couldn’t: they were numb and I couldn’t feel them. Fer moaned. A shiver ran through her entire body, her arms moved, and she clutched at me. She whimpered. She pressed herself to me, dug her nails into my back. Her heart touched mine. The wave rose once again. And struck my heart. And filled it. Heart words flowed once more. And the earth swayed underfoot. And Eternity awoke in us. And time stopped.

  The Evenki voices grew clamorous. One of them touched my shoulder and looked me in the eyes.

  “What you name?” the Evenki asked me.

  His heart was dead. I took his wrinkled, windblown, narrow-eyed face for a stone. Fer wailed and cried aloud. She trembled all over. Our hearts were speaking. The unknown words throbbed and burst. The Light sang and shone in our hearts. Fer roared, pushed me away, and tore her clothes off. Her chest was cut with a small wound from my blow. Blood had congealed around the wound. Fer grabbed me with her hands. I seized her in return. Our chests pressed against each other. We cried out and moaned. Fer’s heart touched mine. My heart touched hers. The Universe opened wide around us. Fer’s urine flowed down both our legs.

  The Evenki jumped up with a shout and ran out of the tent. Fer and I began to feel wonderful. Because we had found each other.

  We came to on the evening of the next day.

  Unlocking our numb, blue arms, we collapsed onto the pelts that covered the earthen floor. And we fell into a deep sleep.

  An elderly Evenka woman woke us. She poked at Fer and me with a bear’s shinbone. When we moved, the old woman began to babble in her own language and point to the exit with the bone. The flap was thrown back and through it we could see the same old dead taiga, flooded with the rays of the rising sun.

  Fer moaned and began to cry. She looked at me and cried. Because our hearts were silent. I hit Fer in the chest. She screamed and was silent. I seized Fer and pressed her to me. We didn’t need to talk: we had known each other for a very long time. There was no one closer to me than Fer. Our hearts were exhausted. They required rest.

  I took Fer by the shoulders. I opened my lips. And for the first time in the last few days I spoke in the language of people: “We have to go.”

  She opened her whitened lips: “Where?”

  “To look for other brothers and sisters.”

  “What for?”

  “To become the Light once again.”

  Fer looked me straight in the eyes. She didn’t understand yet. But she believed with her heart.

  I helped Fer to rise, and we left the tent. The reindeer stood in their paddock. Two dogs lay near them, and four Evenki pottered about. Seeing us naked, the Evenki laughed and turned away. The dogs sniffed the air and retreated cautiously. Fer’s clothes and basket hung near the tent, on a pike stuck in the ground. The basket was still full of berries. We grabbed the basket and quickly ate all the berries. On top of Fer’s clothes lay a little bunch of Saint-John’s-wort and some sort of root. The old woman had put them there. Fer tossed them aside and began to dress. I helped her. The old woman, without leaving the tent, shouted something at us. Then she stuck her head out and quickly threatened us with the bone. Fer got dressed, looked at me, swiftly took off her leather belt with the knife, took the basket, and walked over to the Evenki. It was terrifying: Fer had moved away from me! If she left — I would perish. I stopped breathing. I froze stock-still and waited for her near the pike. She talked fast with the Evenki in their language. She was bargaining. It seemed endless to me. I waited, afraid to budge. Suddenly she ran back to me. Without her belt, basket, and knife. She grabbed me by the hands, cried out joyously, and began to cry. I also held her in my arms and sobbed with joy that she had returned and that she WAS WITH ME AGAIN! It was as though I had found my sister all over again — a minute ago she was gone, I could only hear her voice speaking a language I didn’t understand, and now here was Fer, right in front of me! It was a miracle. Fer also began to sob. Embracing and crying we fell on the ground. Sobs overwhelmed us like an avalanche of snow: I had never cried like this in my life. My body shook and writhed, the tears flowed in streams, and I couldn’t get enough air — I was suffocating, choking on my sobs, as though they were balls of lead. I opened my mouth and felt I was swallowing myself; I lost consciousness and then immediately awoke in convulsions, sobbing again and again. It was as though I was vomiting te
ars. The same thing was happening to Fer. I heard and felt her crying, and that only worked me up more. Finally, we lost consciousness.