Rattlesnake Mask Continued
He glanced to the opposite side of the lodge to see pale light shining from the circular, moon shaped south facing door open to the gray rain outside.
To reach the door, anyone visiting Puffin House had to follow the path stretching beneath a tiny waterfall that fell down the side of the cliff. A mist of pure water moistened each one. On a hot day, the spray was delightful. Breathing in the sacred water cleared his mind. He liked that feature of the house design as he intended when he ordered it constructed. The falling pure water drove away spirits not under his control.
He made sure that one wall of the house facing the cliff was exposed rock so those inside could always come into contact with its earth power -- making visiting supplicants as strong as the Rock. The other three finely hued cedar plank walls were decorated by images of sea lions, salmon and octopus -- the door was encircled by raven figures eating berries -- all of which he had commissioned to be freshly painted the summer before in bright red, green and charcoal black.
Mowa'kek always took inspiration from the main house post now lit by the fire -- a design that copied the older sea lion totem that stood baring its teeth above the mortuary house at the top of the Rock. The totem seemed to grin approval.
The effect of the art was stunning to all who set eyes on it, especially in the shifting firelight at night. So pleasing. Beautiful and fitting to honor Great Raven, greatest of all Spirit Guides and his servant Nestuka, Gaurdian of the Shining Heavens.
When darkness fully came Mowa'kek chanted and Tseycum drummed, Soolwali Whirlwind prepared to roast an aged elk steak over the fire on a spit and to cook a bowl of roots, berries and candle-fish fat with white hot stones heated in the fire. The savory food was then laid out on a wood alter below the central house pole as an offering to the departed ancestors. The fragrance of burned fat filled the room.
Soolwali abstained from tasting the mushrooms, as was expected of the presiding chief, but Tseycum and Mowa'kek ate from a large basket of underworld fruit, chewing quickly and waiting for a sign for when the ghosts might arrive. The strongly unpleasant taste would normally repel anyone who did not know the powers of the fruit. Between bites of the bitterly putrid fungi -- which produced a gagging, black mucus in the back of the throat, the chief and his Seer tore into strips of elk meat and drank more sips of tea.
When he heard Soolwali high pitched blasts his snake shaped bone flute calling for the spirits, Mowa'kek noticed that the rock floor of the lodge, visible in the flickering fire light, began to move like the surface of a calm ocean. The crest of each wave spread before him was fringed with greenish white -- like the surface of an island bay sometimes glows on a summer's night. That was a good sign.
He reached for another mouthful of mushrooms and swallowed more quickly with anticipation.
He had communed here with ghosts and a host of sacred animals over the years in this house. Once a giant blue-green Dragon Fly appeared before his face and warned him that an apprentice had turned against him. He suspected the boy of treachery from the first.
Thankfully the next morning he broke some dead spruce branches from a near by tree trunk and ordered that his slaves gouge out the traitor's eyes before tossing him from the cliff. His bones are still down there, along with other blasphemers punished during Mowa'kek's reign.
Many conspired to bring down Mowa'kek's position as Spokesman for Raven. Even now he wondered about Old Man Soowali sitting down cross legged before the fire playing his flute. Why did he defend the Owl Men more than necessary? Was the walking-corpse and his haughty son turning against him now?
But, no. His companions had both committed themselves to Raven in the blood rites. Still, he had been sensing a plot against him in last few days more than usual.
Last year he began to feel the same way concerning one of his new wives. He knew that she was secretly chanting against him. His suspicion became more than he could endure. He decided that that she must be bound to a drift log and sacrificed to the rising tide. He was obliged to keep the way of Raven pure for the sake of all the people. That was his duty.
Whenever he visited Refuge Rock, he reflected on the meaning of his greatest vision as a young man. It occurred at the old mortuary house when offering healing herbs to the sea lions. The sky suddenly darkened and Black Raven himself descended to stand before him. Fifteen other chiefs and shaman and the slaves also saw the spirit take a solid shape, each swearing that what they had seen was true.
The pupils of Raven's eyes engulfed his soul from the inside out. The spirit screamed a call like a storm blast with such force that the witnesses all fell back on the ground. He felt tiny bits of ice blast his face, hands and torso. That day Raven chose him to be his spokesman and instructed him to build the Puffin House on a narrow, eastern ledge of Refuge Rock.
That is how it began.
The name of Mowa'kek would always be remembered in Selawik lore for building this magnificent house, the location known only to the ruling noblemen of the clans. It filled him with joy to lay down here and breathe burning sage and cedar smoke, eat rich food and partake in underworld fruit ceremonies. No one could hurt him here, protected by the Spirit of Raven always watching, ready to strike down his enemies.
At that moment Mowa'kek and the chiefs heard singing in a foreign language outside the house. The singing was accompanied by a tapping drum. He stopped chewing. His heavily tattooed face became quizzical as he turned to listen. Is it a song of mourning? He wasn't sure if the voices sounded from this or another world.
Then feet appeared, moving back and forth in front of the door as if dancing to the rattle. He had never been greeted by ghosts like this before. The house as invisible in the cliff. Mortal men would never find the house -- unless he and his men had been secretly followed.
"Soolwali, Mowa'kek, Tseycum," the voices called their names -- as if visitors asking for permission to come inside.
"Soolwali, Mowa'kek, Tseycum."
Unsure if the mushrooms played tricks on their minds, Mowa'kek and Tseycum looked to the old man for guidance.
"It appears that foreign visitors have found our secret Rock," said Soolwali.
"But, how do they know our names?"
"What spirits are calling us?", Soolwali shouted, then more quietly spoke to his fellows.
"If these are mere men, they trespass on our place of honor for our dead. That is wrong. No one has found this house before. Perhaps they are supplicants who come for refuge? Curious. I will go to see why they come," the white haired chief said, setting his flute on a fire-stone and getting up as fast as his old joints could move to the doorway to squat down and peer out.
"Welcome travelers," he called in the trade language used at potlatches when all the tribes came together for games.
"Welcome travelers to our house. What are you doing here? Are you hungry or do you wish us ill?"
The voices outside were silent, but the rush of the rattle continued.
Soowali Whirlwind glanced back at wide eyed Mowa'kek, then turned to repeat the greeting, "Welcome travelers to our house. Are you hungry or do you wish us ill? You can't hurt us. This rock is our place of refuge and protected by powerful guides. Are you in mourning?"
"Food, food for the dead," chanted the outsiders in unison who began to sing again.
"We have elk meat prepared for a feast in honor of our heroes. Raven permitted you to find this house. That is a sign that he welcomes you all to dine with us since you are hungry. That is right. It is not the Selawik way to turn away guests. We have plenty of meat. Are you ghosts or men?" said the old man to the three figures standing in the doorway. He had never spoken to a ghost, although had felt the cold of their presence.
Soowali stood beside the door like guards do, even though he was weaponless, to defend the house in case the visitors came to attack.
They come to visit. Had he not been chanting to invite supernatural guests all evening?
Mowa'kek saw the figures bend down to pass through the door and emerge up-right in the vast space of the smokey house. Each figure had an aura of a rainbow around their large bodies. Were these giants? He noticed that they also seemed to hold something behind their backs.
Even in his vision state, Mowa'kek sensed danger. Did the rainbow giants bring weapons? He reached for his quartz knife and stood up as best he could on the still undulating floor.
Once inside, the rainbow hued visitors-- round common headed, without any beards-- stood before the elderly chief and his son Tseycum.
"Know this chiefs. We are dead men to this world and alive to him who created the living and the dead," the largest of the figures said in a formal tone of a potlatch speech.
"His name is Great Sky Ghost Doer of Wonders. We come in his name to accuse the Selawik of a crime against us. We are Kaw-Seth. Come to your isle on a marriage quest, obeying all of the ways of your land. Do you remember?"
His head lifted. His voice grew louder.
"We are the ones who won the right to hunt white bear and to take home a skin. You were our guides. But, you guided us to our doom and now my uncle, one initiated in your Raven's blood rites, is dead along with his son. Both killed by a bull sea lion down there below the cliffs. You guided us into the jaws of the monster. You are stained with Kaw-Seth blood and my cousin here, Son of Spe-eth, has the right to take revenge by killing two of you immediately. Unless you take heed of our demands for restitution."
Mowa'kek pulled out his quartz knife, saying, "No ghost makes barters. Your flesh will bleed."
He yelled with all his might, "Round-head commoners defile my house!"
The shaman jumped down in front of the figures, tossed his head back in a snap that caused his hair braid to fly up and down like a whip.
The tall, muscular figures presented a spear and clubs in defiance.
Another held a club in one hand and shook a rattle in the other.
Mowa'kek had heard that rattle before. Suddenly he was shocked to see that the spear and clubs were the same ceremonial weapons distinctly carved for Nestuka's mortuary house.
"Sacred weapons stolen from Nestuk," he screamed rushing towards the rainbow figures from across the room baring his knife.
"Blasphemers!"
Even with a stomach full of mushrooms, the shaman showed great strength as he clashed with the figure that spoke, slashing upward into the groin. He felt the cedar cloth tunic rip by the blade, but wasn't sure if he cut living flesh. He pulled back for another strike and circled the figures which raised clubs to threaten him.
"Raven has damned you unworthy to live. His servant sea lion carried out the judgment. We didn't kill you. You are dead because you don't deserve to live!" he shouted moving back and forth avoiding being struck.
Meanwhile Tseycum was trying to set his bow. But, he had eaten too many mushrooms and moved slowly, as if trying to walk across a swift stream, trying to reach the arrow cache. When he pulled off the bent cedar lid, the box was full of rattlesnakes. The glowing snakes writhed and buzzed. He took his eyes off the round headed visitors and stared into the box.
Overcome with dread, Tseycum tried to yell, "Look. Snakes!" -- but he was unable to produce any sound. He looked up to see that the grinning expression on the sea lion house post changed to terror.
The old chief Soowali continued to stand with his hands out in a welcome gesture.
"They can't hurt us, Spirit Man. Put down your knife. This is a place of refuge, a place of forgiveness, protected by powerful guides," he ordered.
"These ghosts are our guests. Don't threaten them. Listen to their words. Would they dare to hurt a Selawik high chief? Raven will protect us. Peace. We are on the Rock of Refuge."
Next Chapter
To reach the door, anyone visiting Puffin House had to follow the path stretching beneath a tiny waterfall that fell down the side of the cliff. A mist of pure water moistened each one. On a hot day, the spray was delightful. Breathing in the sacred water cleared his mind. He liked that feature of the house design as he intended when he ordered it constructed. The falling pure water drove away spirits not under his control.
He made sure that one wall of the house facing the cliff was exposed rock so those inside could always come into contact with its earth power -- making visiting supplicants as strong as the Rock. The other three finely hued cedar plank walls were decorated by images of sea lions, salmon and octopus -- the door was encircled by raven figures eating berries -- all of which he had commissioned to be freshly painted the summer before in bright red, green and charcoal black.
Mowa'kek always took inspiration from the main house post now lit by the fire -- a design that copied the older sea lion totem that stood baring its teeth above the mortuary house at the top of the Rock. The totem seemed to grin approval.
The effect of the art was stunning to all who set eyes on it, especially in the shifting firelight at night. So pleasing. Beautiful and fitting to honor Great Raven, greatest of all Spirit Guides and his servant Nestuka, Gaurdian of the Shining Heavens.
When darkness fully came Mowa'kek chanted and Tseycum drummed, Soolwali Whirlwind prepared to roast an aged elk steak over the fire on a spit and to cook a bowl of roots, berries and candle-fish fat with white hot stones heated in the fire. The savory food was then laid out on a wood alter below the central house pole as an offering to the departed ancestors. The fragrance of burned fat filled the room.
Soolwali abstained from tasting the mushrooms, as was expected of the presiding chief, but Tseycum and Mowa'kek ate from a large basket of underworld fruit, chewing quickly and waiting for a sign for when the ghosts might arrive. The strongly unpleasant taste would normally repel anyone who did not know the powers of the fruit. Between bites of the bitterly putrid fungi -- which produced a gagging, black mucus in the back of the throat, the chief and his Seer tore into strips of elk meat and drank more sips of tea.
When he heard Soolwali high pitched blasts his snake shaped bone flute calling for the spirits, Mowa'kek noticed that the rock floor of the lodge, visible in the flickering fire light, began to move like the surface of a calm ocean. The crest of each wave spread before him was fringed with greenish white -- like the surface of an island bay sometimes glows on a summer's night. That was a good sign.
He reached for another mouthful of mushrooms and swallowed more quickly with anticipation.
He had communed here with ghosts and a host of sacred animals over the years in this house. Once a giant blue-green Dragon Fly appeared before his face and warned him that an apprentice had turned against him. He suspected the boy of treachery from the first.
Thankfully the next morning he broke some dead spruce branches from a near by tree trunk and ordered that his slaves gouge out the traitor's eyes before tossing him from the cliff. His bones are still down there, along with other blasphemers punished during Mowa'kek's reign.
Many conspired to bring down Mowa'kek's position as Spokesman for Raven. Even now he wondered about Old Man Soowali sitting down cross legged before the fire playing his flute. Why did he defend the Owl Men more than necessary? Was the walking-corpse and his haughty son turning against him now?
But, no. His companions had both committed themselves to Raven in the blood rites. Still, he had been sensing a plot against him in last few days more than usual.
Last year he began to feel the same way concerning one of his new wives. He knew that she was secretly chanting against him. His suspicion became more than he could endure. He decided that that she must be bound to a drift log and sacrificed to the rising tide. He was obliged to keep the way of Raven pure for the sake of all the people. That was his duty.
Whenever he visited Refuge Rock, he reflected on the meaning of his greatest vision as a young man. It occurred at the old mortuary house when offering healing herbs to the sea lions. The sky suddenly darkened and Black Raven himself descended to stand before him. Fifteen other chiefs and shaman and the slaves also saw the spirit take a solid shape, each swearing that what they had seen was true.
The pupils of Raven's eyes engulfed his soul from the inside out. The spirit screamed a call like a storm blast with such force that the witnesses all fell back on the ground. He felt tiny bits of ice blast his face, hands and torso. That day Raven chose him to be his spokesman and instructed him to build the Puffin House on a narrow, eastern ledge of Refuge Rock.
That is how it began.
The name of Mowa'kek would always be remembered in Selawik lore for building this magnificent house, the location known only to the ruling noblemen of the clans. It filled him with joy to lay down here and breathe burning sage and cedar smoke, eat rich food and partake in underworld fruit ceremonies. No one could hurt him here, protected by the Spirit of Raven always watching, ready to strike down his enemies.
At that moment Mowa'kek and the chiefs heard singing in a foreign language outside the house. The singing was accompanied by a tapping drum. He stopped chewing. His heavily tattooed face became quizzical as he turned to listen. Is it a song of mourning? He wasn't sure if the voices sounded from this or another world.
Then feet appeared, moving back and forth in front of the door as if dancing to the rattle. He had never been greeted by ghosts like this before. The house as invisible in the cliff. Mortal men would never find the house -- unless he and his men had been secretly followed.
"Soolwali, Mowa'kek, Tseycum," the voices called their names -- as if visitors asking for permission to come inside.
"Soolwali, Mowa'kek, Tseycum."
Unsure if the mushrooms played tricks on their minds, Mowa'kek and Tseycum looked to the old man for guidance.
"It appears that foreign visitors have found our secret Rock," said Soolwali.
"But, how do they know our names?"
"What spirits are calling us?", Soolwali shouted, then more quietly spoke to his fellows.
"If these are mere men, they trespass on our place of honor for our dead. That is wrong. No one has found this house before. Perhaps they are supplicants who come for refuge? Curious. I will go to see why they come," the white haired chief said, setting his flute on a fire-stone and getting up as fast as his old joints could move to the doorway to squat down and peer out.
"Welcome travelers," he called in the trade language used at potlatches when all the tribes came together for games.
"Welcome travelers to our house. What are you doing here? Are you hungry or do you wish us ill?"
The voices outside were silent, but the rush of the rattle continued.
Soowali Whirlwind glanced back at wide eyed Mowa'kek, then turned to repeat the greeting, "Welcome travelers to our house. Are you hungry or do you wish us ill? You can't hurt us. This rock is our place of refuge and protected by powerful guides. Are you in mourning?"
"Food, food for the dead," chanted the outsiders in unison who began to sing again.
"We have elk meat prepared for a feast in honor of our heroes. Raven permitted you to find this house. That is a sign that he welcomes you all to dine with us since you are hungry. That is right. It is not the Selawik way to turn away guests. We have plenty of meat. Are you ghosts or men?" said the old man to the three figures standing in the doorway. He had never spoken to a ghost, although had felt the cold of their presence.
Soowali stood beside the door like guards do, even though he was weaponless, to defend the house in case the visitors came to attack.
They come to visit. Had he not been chanting to invite supernatural guests all evening?
Mowa'kek saw the figures bend down to pass through the door and emerge up-right in the vast space of the smokey house. Each figure had an aura of a rainbow around their large bodies. Were these giants? He noticed that they also seemed to hold something behind their backs.
Even in his vision state, Mowa'kek sensed danger. Did the rainbow giants bring weapons? He reached for his quartz knife and stood up as best he could on the still undulating floor.
Once inside, the rainbow hued visitors-- round common headed, without any beards-- stood before the elderly chief and his son Tseycum.
"Know this chiefs. We are dead men to this world and alive to him who created the living and the dead," the largest of the figures said in a formal tone of a potlatch speech.
"His name is Great Sky Ghost Doer of Wonders. We come in his name to accuse the Selawik of a crime against us. We are Kaw-Seth. Come to your isle on a marriage quest, obeying all of the ways of your land. Do you remember?"
His head lifted. His voice grew louder.
"We are the ones who won the right to hunt white bear and to take home a skin. You were our guides. But, you guided us to our doom and now my uncle, one initiated in your Raven's blood rites, is dead along with his son. Both killed by a bull sea lion down there below the cliffs. You guided us into the jaws of the monster. You are stained with Kaw-Seth blood and my cousin here, Son of Spe-eth, has the right to take revenge by killing two of you immediately. Unless you take heed of our demands for restitution."
Mowa'kek pulled out his quartz knife, saying, "No ghost makes barters. Your flesh will bleed."
He yelled with all his might, "Round-head commoners defile my house!"
The shaman jumped down in front of the figures, tossed his head back in a snap that caused his hair braid to fly up and down like a whip.
The tall, muscular figures presented a spear and clubs in defiance.
Another held a club in one hand and shook a rattle in the other.
Mowa'kek had heard that rattle before. Suddenly he was shocked to see that the spear and clubs were the same ceremonial weapons distinctly carved for Nestuka's mortuary house.
"Sacred weapons stolen from Nestuk," he screamed rushing towards the rainbow figures from across the room baring his knife.
"Blasphemers!"
Even with a stomach full of mushrooms, the shaman showed great strength as he clashed with the figure that spoke, slashing upward into the groin. He felt the cedar cloth tunic rip by the blade, but wasn't sure if he cut living flesh. He pulled back for another strike and circled the figures which raised clubs to threaten him.
"Raven has damned you unworthy to live. His servant sea lion carried out the judgment. We didn't kill you. You are dead because you don't deserve to live!" he shouted moving back and forth avoiding being struck.
Meanwhile Tseycum was trying to set his bow. But, he had eaten too many mushrooms and moved slowly, as if trying to walk across a swift stream, trying to reach the arrow cache. When he pulled off the bent cedar lid, the box was full of rattlesnakes. The glowing snakes writhed and buzzed. He took his eyes off the round headed visitors and stared into the box.
Overcome with dread, Tseycum tried to yell, "Look. Snakes!" -- but he was unable to produce any sound. He looked up to see that the grinning expression on the sea lion house post changed to terror.
The old chief Soowali continued to stand with his hands out in a welcome gesture.
"They can't hurt us, Spirit Man. Put down your knife. This is a place of refuge, a place of forgiveness, protected by powerful guides," he ordered.
"These ghosts are our guests. Don't threaten them. Listen to their words. Would they dare to hurt a Selawik high chief? Raven will protect us. Peace. We are on the Rock of Refuge."
Next Chapter
