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Continued, from Part 1

Below, I present for your amusement and/or edification, Chapter One of Zook and the Sacred Fish.

Zook and the Sacred Fish
Chapter One – Careless Spirits

Zook forced his eyes open, and looked down. He was standing on the highest place he had ever been, so high that the snowy surface seemed to fold back under him. It felt like falling.

Next to him, his friend Oortok was smiling, as he almost always was, his crescent eyes full of mischief. He was either unaware of Zook’s fear of heights, or was impishly delighted by it, because that crooked smile was the opposite of what Zook wanted to see just then. It was a look that seemed to say, “See? I told you it was beautiful up here.”

Zook looked around him. The sun, even weak and low in the sky as it was that time of year, caressed the snowdrifts with golden afternoon light, leaving long, cool blue shadows on their shaded sides. There were a few sparse pines up here, scraggly and brittle looking, and one with a particular twist in the trunk, inviting him to sit and rest. Ice crystals glinted like gems everywhere he looked. Oortok was right, it was gorgeous, but that didn’t make him any less afraid of being so high up.

“I – I don’t know about this,” said Zook.

“Don’t think.”

“I’m n-not…”

“Yes, you are. You’re thinking eleven is too young to die,” Oortok joked. “Look, there’s nothing to worry about. The worst that can happen is that you’ll fall into the snow.”

The icy wind tore across the rise, howling through the brittle limbs of the scraggly little twisted pine next to him. Zook pulled his parka closer around him to try to shut out the cold. He looked down the snowy slope again. It really wasn’t much more than a hill, but to Zook, looking down from the crest, it felt horribly high.

It was fine for Oortok, Zook figured. Oortok was thirteen, and much bigger. He’d taken many such hikes to the hills of the northern wastes. He was used to this. But Zook had stuck closer to the flat lands of home in their Inuit village of Hano. And never did he want to be in his safe, warm hut with a safe, warm drink more than right now.

“Get on, don’t be nervous. You can do this,” Oortok said, placing a large, flat object on the ground in front of himself. It was something they called a runningboard, really just the remnants of an old discarded sled deck, strapped together with bits of whatever they could find. Oortok knocked the snow off of his boots and tucked his feet into the board’s straps.

Zook fiddled absently with his own board, and looked around. Snowy hills surrounded him, as far into the distance as he could see.

Not far behind him, he was surprised to see an artic rabbit. Most rabbits wouldn’t let you get this close, but there it was, just a few feet away. Zook figured it was probably a tough rabbit, as he noticed a notch missing from one of its ears. This rabbit had tangled with something big and mean, and lived to tell. As a result, Zook figured that rabbit probably wasn’t scared of anything. It seemed to be staring at Zook, as if to say Well? Are you going down that hill or not?

“Easy for you,” Zook said. “You’ve got those big feet and not far to fall.”

“What!?” said Oortok.

“That weird rabbit. Look at him, staring at me.”

“Mmm-hmm. Let’s just… ignore the rabbit, OK? Now stop stalling. Put your feet on the board, and gravity will do the rest. This is no different from those little hills we were on yesterday.”

Zook nodded, but he didn’t really agree. This was different than the hills they had been on yesterday. It was bigger.

“Look, if you’re scared—”

“I’m not scared!”

“All right,” Oortok smiled. “If you’re, uh, thinking too much…” he paused for effect, “to ride down, you can just walk back around the way we came.”

Zook looked at him and tried to look brave. He wasn’t about to walk down the back way by himself and Oortok knew it. It was best not to be alone out here. Those monsters lived out here. He shuddered, and tried to cover it up by fiddling with his board again.

“The hill is nothing to be scared of,” Oortok added, hopping on his board. “It’s only snow. The Bulaargs, on the other hand? Different story.”

Tundra Bulaargs were fabled in song and story, as devilish creatures as you are likely to ever come across. They were foul-smelling, hairless, lumpy, stony-headed creatures with orange glowing eyes. Their feet left characteristic three-toed footprints – two toes in front, one at the heel – and their three-fingered hands terminated in deadly, razor-sharp claws.

Of course, it was easy for Oortok to be flip about the Bulaargs. He’d never seen one alive, and neither had Zook. People who liked living made sure to keep themselves away from places the Bulaargs were likely to be. And the Bulaargs mostly kept away from people. Mostly.

But that didn’t stop Zook’s imagination from running away with him. And even though Zook didn’t smell anything strange behind him on the hill, he had the distinct feeling that a group of Bulaargs was there nonetheless. He could feel them behind him, watching him. Or maybe it was just that weird rabbit.

Oortok studied Zook’s face for a moment, trying to see whether he was having the desired effect on his friend. Then he smiled.

“Go the back way if you want. But I’m going this way. See you at the bottom!”

Oortok sped away. Zook watched his friend zigzagging effortlessly, cutting through the snow from side to side on the hill all the way to the bottom. It looked easy enough. Sure, there was the whole possibility of falling down and breaking something to worry about, but right now that seemed easier to face than Them.

“Wow, it sure is nice down here,” Oortok taunted from the bottom of the hill. “Well, a little lonely, but other than that… But you just take your time up there. And say hi to the Bulaargs for me!”

“Cut it out, Tok,” Zook called back. But he couldn’t help stealing a quick glance back over his shoulder just the same. He hoped Oortok didn’t see.

“Speed Demon Zook scared of a little hill. Wait until Alek hears about this.”

“You wouldn’t!”

Alek Manak was a boy Zook’s age from the village, the son of one of the town’s elders. To say Alek and Zook had been lifelong rivals was like saying that the icy northwest coast could get a little chilly.

Alek was better at just about everything, and it drove Zook crazy. In truth, Zook probably wouldn’t have minded so much, but Alek seemed to enjoy rubbing it in.

There was one area, however, that Zook never lost to Alek. Zook was small for his age, and blisteringly fast, so he rarely lost a footrace to anyone. He won every time he raced Alek. But rather than evening things out between the rivals, this only served to make matters worse. Alek was a sore loser, and spiteful.

“You wouldn’t!” Zook repeated.

“I might,” Oortok said, laughing.

But since Zook had evidently decided it was an empty threat, Oortok changed tactics again.

“I’m going ho-ome…” Oortok teased.

Zook wondered how long it would go on like this. He could see them in the future as old men, Zook standing on the hillcrest, trying to get up his nerve, Oortok goading him, and that weird rabbit looking on, mocking him.

He was going to have to be brave. He stuck his tongue out at the rabbit, took a deep breath and hopped on his board. Gravity took over and down the hill he went.

He was a little shaky, but he coasted down, shifting his weight from foot to foot, cutting across the snow to adjust his speed just as Oortok had taught him on the smaller hills. He was speeding up, and it thrilled him. He forgot about the Bulaargs, and about being afraid of falling. He was actually having fun. It was like running, only faster.

But then he began losing his footing, and he got scared. He worried he was losing control, and about what would happen if he fell.

That’s when he lost his balance. He flailed his arms wildly and threw his weight back. The board kicked out from under him and he fell hard, wrenching his knee and rolling several times down the hill before coming to rest in a snow drift. The board skidded down the rest of the hill by itself.

“You all right?” Oortok yelled, running over to Zook.

Zook untangled himself from his own legs and arms. He tried to get up, and fell down again. He rubbed his knee. It throbbed.

“I twisted my leg,” he announced.

Oortok clapped his hands and said, “That was great!”

Zook hoisted himself up onto his elbows and glared at his friend. “It’s not funny.”

“I know! You did great!”

“I fell.”

“You turned to the side at the last second, slowed the board just enough. If you hadn’t done that, it would have been a lot worse. That was the right instinct.”

Zook rubbed his knee again. It was going to swell up and bruise. But he didn’t think it was broken. He grimaced, and suddenly flung out his arm and punched Oortok in the arm.

“Hey!” Oortok yelled.

“Tell Alek I’m a coward, will you?” Zook admonished.

Oortok laughed. He barely felt the blow, cushioned as it was between Zook’s mittens and Oortok’s thick sealskin parka.

“Had to do something to get you down here. What finally did it?”

“You think I’m going to help you figure out which one of your insults worked on me, think again,” Zook shot back.

Oortok snickered, and raised his hands in mock surrender. Then, he stretched, adjusted his neck with a loud crack and leaned back, surveying the hill, clearly happy with himself.

“Now tell me: wasn’t that fun?”

Zook thought about it for a minute. Sure, his knee hurt, but that ride down the hill, that speed! He loved going fast. Despite himself, he broke into a wide, toothy smile.

“It really was!”

Oortok put an arm around his friend to support him, and they got up and began walking and limping the rest of the way down the hill.

“You know why you fell?” Oortok knelt down to retrieve Zook’s board, and waited for him to answer. When none came, he added, “You panicked.”

“I thought I was going to lose control.”

“Yep. And that’s exactly what happened.”

Zook thought about that, and after a bit, nodded. They stood silent for a bit, listening to the wind drifting across the snowfields. It was getting harder to see the scraggly pines against the dim sky.

“It’s getting dark,” said Oortok. “We ought to head back.”

“Wanna race?” Zook joked.

“Maybe with that hurt leg of yours, I’d have a chance.”

They laughed. Zook probably could have won a race, even with his hurt leg, but they both knew they weren’t going to race today.

“Hurts, huh?” Oortok asked.

Zook gritted his teeth and smiled. “It’s not so bad, really.”

With night closing in around them, they walked back to the village of Hano. Zook was glad to be leaving the hill with the twisted pine behind him, not as something he was afraid of, but as a place he intended to return to soon. Oortok was right. It was fun. And maybe next time, he’d manage not to fall.

Zook didn’t even notice the distant scuttling sounds behind him, or feel the glowing amber eyes watching him and Oortok as they left.

After 60,ooo words or so, I pitched the novel to some agents and publishers, and got the idea that a first-time novel by a completely unknown writer was a particularly hard sell, whereas, if I played to my strength as an artist with 30 years’ experience, I might have a better go of it. So began the next stage in Zook’s evolution.

NEXT: Getting Graphic