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This is a scene from the classic Chinese sci fi novel "Three Body Problem". The King Trisolarius ordered the formation of a 30-Million Man Computer to start calculations on the orbit mechanics of the three suns in order to predict Stable Eras and Chaotic Eras.
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The top triptych is called Bell's Theorem.
The lower set is called Rosie Rips.
Curved Earth and Eclipse
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Digital Eye and Dark Pyramid
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Dead cow night
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Dead cow day
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Double Slit
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Trisolarian with expanded protons. From '3-Body Problem'
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Eye in Pyramid
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Eyes in the Sky (noticing a trend yet?)
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And the classic, Digital Eyeballs Chasing UFOs in Norway
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Walking in Desert
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Fractal Sun
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Heavy Rain from 'Seven Eves'
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Hawaii with Trades
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Digital Eyeball with Pyramid. (more on this one later)
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Little Omalley Peak, first backcountry run.
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Large Fractal Sun w/beer
you been busy bro
I hope you brought popcorn...Quote:
Originally Posted by iceman
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Lone Figure with Digital Sun
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Mountain with Beach
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Speaking of being busy, this one is called 'Multitasking'
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Outrigger Canoe
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Northern Lights (first attempt to follow Bob Ross)
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Reversible Mountain
Rosie Rips 1, 2 and 3
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Pretty cool man. Your kid’s got some talent.
lol I'm an adult onset artist. Keeps me out of the bar!
I do bounce a lot of ideas off her,
"should this digital eyeball have wings?"
"is this pyramid too pointy?"
"should this be color coordinated or random?"
"do these mountains look like whales to you? ok, I'll say I did it on purpose"
most recently, "dang should I turn this glacier into an ocean? it doesn't look like a glacier"
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"what should I put on that little flat spot bottom left?"
Haha, sorry man. That art is about 29 times better than anything I can do.Quote:
Originally Posted by carpathian
I like the one with the mountains and the eyeball
I like dead cow day and outrigger canoe.
I like how you share your art, and am thankful.
Keep it up, and I hope it helps you make sense of this reality.
Thanks.
Art Brut ... or Outsider Art.... Folk Art Even.... using the lingo legitimizes.Quote:
Originally Posted by carpathian
I dabble my self... some Pro tips (that were passed on to me by actual pros)
-dont be afraid to use a lot of paint.
-Stretch all your own canvas, and do everything gallery deep.
-Incorporate reductive techniques.
It is funny because I keep having same feeling as doing construction. Have to think the project through and lay a foundation and really think of the sequence of events to come to a desired outcome. A lot of the time things are not looking good until the last pass and all the chaos is ironed out. yes, very cathartic and welcome distraction from sitting on iPhone...Quote:
Originally Posted by MakersTeleMark
Does gallery deep refer to thickness of frame holding canvas or thickness of frame around finished canvas?Quote:
Originally Posted by cmcrawfo
I've only done one chalk piece. Not sure if it counts as 'reductive'
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Sad Donkey in WW1
Any thickness related inquiries should be forwarded along to Booner, the expert in all things thick.Quote:
Originally Posted by carpathian
Mind if I share?
Been playing around with the airbrush lately. I do all the artwork for my girls' dance comp team props.
This halloween I got ahold of some airbrush makeup.
https://scontent.ftpa1-2.fna.fbcdn.n...04&oe=5EB3AB09
https://scontent.ftpa1-2.fna.fbcdn.n...98&oe=5E74DE88
https://scontent.ftpa1-2.fna.fbcdn.n...34&oe=5E663271
Ha , Awesome!
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Summer Snow
"Beached Killer Whales".
Yeah this is the one that accidentally looked like whales, just finished it yesterday which puts me at just about a year of 'art making'...
And at that I'm changing gears. Don't worry, more painting will come as they come. Now for the DIY 'art of story telling'...
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I am about 7 years in on getting this little novel put together. I printed these copies last month as a sort of 99% complete edit and gave them out to people to give feedback and look for typos.
So now I'm going through chapter for chapter and doing final, final edit and posting them here. Then I will re-upload to Amazon and go from there.
'Starlight Over David' is a supernatural thriller peppered with characters that have delusions of grandeur and mystical encounters. David and his companions embark on a misguided mission that inadvertently merges with the story of an ancient entity whose actions have wrecked havoc on humanity for millennia.
Will David overcome all adversity and triumph in the face of Evil or will he be crushed by the weight of history and a predetermined fate?
Enjoy!
There’s a shadow just behind me, shrouding every step I take.
Making every promise empty, pointing every finger at me.
Waiting like a stalking butler, who upon the finger rests.
Murder now the path of must we, just because the Son has come.
Jesus won’t you fucking whistler, something but the past and done?
Jesus won’t you fucking whistler, something but the past and done?
Why can’t we not be Sober? I just want to start things over.
Why can’t we drink forever? I just want to start this over.
MJK
Edward tried to concentrate on his feet as he walked. He felt at ease when he could focus on his homeward momentum. He had not carried a torch when he had set out in the late afternoon to find his families wayward goat. His mother had sent him with promises of dire consequences if he returned without the goat as the animal had pulled loose of its stake the night before.
The previous morning the people in the nearby town of Little Wenham had been telling stories of seeing strange lights in the sky. Small flashing Suns moving across the tree tops and hedgerows. Though Edward had slept soundly the night through, the stories combined with the chill of a grey, early harvest made him feel ill-at-ease.
He did find his goat at some distance from the town center. He was drawn to the far corner of the stone fence that ran border between the townships of Little Wenham and Wedgemore. He could hear the goat cries coming from a thicket that filled a creek draw at the bottom of an embankment on the far side of the fence.
After some wrangling of the spooked animal the boy managed to untangle the goat leash which had become stuck around the exposed roots of a gnarled old tree. He was now walking briskly in the falling light of the early evening watching his feet pace along the flat topped surface of a stone wall. The goat trailed behind on the ground as prompted by the nervous tugs at the leash by the boy.
He observed that everything was grey and heavy and he could see more stone fences trailing across the countryside. There were interspersed hedgerows that stood tall to the sky. He thought about how the people had said that the lights come across the tops of the hedgerows. He put his eyes back to his feet so he would not have to see such light if they should return.
A stiff breeze picked up and brown dead leaves whorled in the corners where fences came together. The boy paused as he came through a hedgerow into a large field adjacent to the edge of town. To his left he could see the torches being lit and he was anxious to get home. To his right the field carried far and appeared to only be bordered by the oncoming night. He was just about to pick up his pace when a flash caught his eye. Along the far edge of the field there were bumps and waves of light reflecting out from the base of the trees.
Maybe it was a sheppard who was smart enough to bring a torch and we can travel together? The boy pondered and was only hopeful for a second. The light went completely black. Then on the periphery of Light the boy saw a tall figure emerge from the shadows. It looked smokey and lean and dark. The boy felt paralyzed as he could see several other giant figures emerge at the edge of the field.
They all carried what looked like long scythes as the farmers used to cut the grains in the field. An off-color mist appeared to rise around the creatures as they swayed in the lethargic breeze. The boy was finally urged into action by the goat now pulling him by the leash. He dropped the leash and took off at a full run across the field. At the far hedgerow he turned and dared a glance behind and he could see eight or ten of the figures moving abreast of each towards town.
A light flashed across the tree tops and the boy turned and ran as fast as he could. He rounded the corner of the block that led to the first row of houses in the town. His house was the fourth on the left down the lane. He found himself yelling, “They are coming! They are coming!” though he had no idea who 'they' were. No one was on the street. Windows and doors were slammed shut as he went by. He came to his own house and it was all closed up. Locked up tight. In a panic now he banged on the door. The goat was long gone.
No one answered. “Where is everyone?!” Edward thought through a swelling of tears that ran down his cheeks. He stepped back out and looked down the lane. He could see one of the tall creatures emerge from around the corner. It was moving slowly and swinging its scythe over the tops of the houses.
“He is tall as a house!” the boy thought as he dashed back to his doorstep and laid down with his head positioned so he could peek down the lane.
The creature made long slow strides as his body swayed from left to right. A mist followed first in the gutters of the lane and then it appeared to pour off the tops of the houses like a heavy, slow-motion rainfall. The creature came adjacent to where the boy was huddled on the door stoop. It leaned way low and turned its head and looked directly at the boy. It looked like a huge skeleton of a man whose flesh had been baked on black and thick. It had enormous hollow eye sockets that appeared to look right through the boy.
It felt as if time stopped and he was being lifted, drawn into the void of the hollow eyes as the air was crushed out of his lungs. Then he heard the familiar click and clack of the front door opening and he was pulled into the house.
Chapter 1) David; Alaska 2030
David found himself thinking of this recurring dream he had been having as he climbed up the side of the mountain. He woke up every time, right when he was pulled into the house.
He was almost silent except for the squeak of his left binding and the aerated whoomp of powder snow under his skis. He was breaking trail and for the most part had to make his way in the dark. The clouds moved quickly across the face of the moon and when its three quarter light did show, he could see snowflakes moving across the sky. The snow did not seem to be coming from any particular cloud, in so much as it appeared to precipitate from out of thin air.
It was cold enough for frost to form on his blonde beard and mustache, but not so cold that he could not generate enough body heat if he kept moving at a steady pace. He wore an old ratty pair of Gore-tex bibs over long johns on his lower body. On his upper body he wore a thin polypro shirt under a very thin black leather vest and a grey checkered wool shirt. He tried to climb at a rate that would equalize his perspiration with the surrounding air. In other words, he was trying not to sweat too much. He remembered his father's advice, “If you get too sweaty you will get cold when you stop.”
He could look up the ridge to see and he could begin to feel the wind moving the snow. He decided to pick up the pace and see how long he could go in the face of rising wind chill and resist putting on another layer. He aimed for a steep spot up ahead on the ridge. On his head he had a worn out old ski cap and on his hands he had on a pair of thin gardening gloves. He leaned into his ski poles in rhythm to his sliding steps.
He panted now as he chugged up the high alpine ridge. The wind at first felt refreshing as he began to dry off a bit but after about twenty minutes he could not keep a sufficient pace enough to keep warm. He stopped and swung his black back-pack around on to his skis still on his feet and pulled out a black wind breaker. He drank some water and then, while taking a piss he surveyed his up track as it started almost 2000 feet below in the sub-alpine glades. A cloud would cover the moonlight and David’s world would shrink back down to the beam in his headlamp.
The moon glowed bright between racing clouds and he could see that he managed a pretty clean line. He felt like he did not need the light anyway because he knew the route by memory. He could see long diagonal switchbacks in the lower meadows followed by a few tight turns in the lower gully section before it ascended to the climber’s right and gained the broad shoulder that leads to his position now, perched in mid-air where the ridge becomes more knife-like.
From this point on, he would have to carry his skis on his shoulder as he negotiates around rocky outcroppings without veering too far onto the steep faces below. With an almost bland detachment he would process each objective hazard as it arose and then move accordingly. He moved with a certain efficiency that was borne of repetition. He felt the dangerous environment brought about a feeling of peace and it made him feel happy and alive in the moment to moment effort to stay alive, juxtaposed by the frivolous inspiration of the descent. It presented a very Zen experience. Each mountain was a nut that needed to be cracked, a story that needed to be told.
The language of this story would penned by the two skis on his feet and the blank page that leans from the ridge top. He makes the final rocky move and he can now stop to put his skis back on. When he climbs he adheres a synthetic strip of material to the bottom of his skis that are called ‘skins’. They stick to the skis with releasable glue and the underside is covered with tiny hairs that allow the ski to slide forward but not backward. His feet are in old plastic ski boots spray painted black that click into bindings that mount into the ski. The bindings can be used in climb mode where the heel can lift free while the toe swings on a pivot as the man pushed off the skins to climb.
When he is ready to descend the heel can be locked down, thus adding more stability.
The man is a skier, a breed nearly extinct in this region. He leans over to click into the second ski and starts moving again. The wind is whipping now and he is getting cold. He actually takes a few steps and decides to stop and add his warmest layer, an old dark green down vest. Then he decides to swap out his sweat drenched cotton gloves for a pair of dry insulated leather gloves buried in his pack. Now it is time to slow the pace a bit and really check out the palette he has to work with tonight.
The ribbon of snow looks blue under the now steady gaze of the moon. It feathers and hourglasses in and then runs parallel, walled in for a bit then fans and spreads into a broad face with fine contours. From this vantage he could look at the top section and he planned a basic ski-cut maneuver.
A ski-cut is when a skier cuts across a snow face and tries to make the snow move into an avalanche. The move is not just for ‘shits and giggles’ as his dad would say but is used to preemptively release the potential energy hanging in the snowpack. If he could get 500 pounds of snow sliding on its own, it might build weight and move over sweet spots in the topography that are prone to trigger release and sometimes propagate over a large area.
It had been known to him in the past where he simply stepped on a suspect slope and it triggered thousands of tons of snow to avalanche down the mountain at a high rate of speed. It was much better to be standing atop the now clean ski run rather than be buried alive under ten feet of rock and debris with arms snapped and legs spun backward. This he knew as well, or at least knew of it.
The moon made him nervous. It was too bright. He would have be quick and into the forest before anyone saw him. “Best to wait for the next cloud and then gun it for the trees” he thought. Just then he saw a speck moving down in the furthest glade. “Who the hell is that?!” He spoke out loud to himself. The man felt territorial, protective and then afraid. No one should be out here.
Chapter 2) Tamas; Hawaii 1779
The sun was now past mid-day and it was hot. The men had to hurry to the altar before sunset in order to properly prepare for the ritual. One of the men went by the name of Tamas and he was part of the group of twelve who were now climbing the hillside. They were going to the mauka pali kapu o keoua or 'above the forbidden cliffs of Keaou'. Tamas was with five men from his Tribe of Kane along with six men from the Tribe of Ku.
The ground was hard and dry under their bare feet. They were approaching the top of the cliff that sprang vertically from the clear waters of Kealakekua. It began to rain and one of the two female captives began to whimper again.
“Quiet,” grunted the man who was carrying her. He had her wrapped up in a Haole blanket slung over his shoulder and he was too tired to slap her on the ass to emphasis his point. Each man from the two tribes took turns carrying their respective captives. This was a spontaneous mission as decided by the two chiefs of the two tribes.
The Haoles had arrived seven days before on a very auspicious day. In the local religion it was believed that Lono was the God of the Crops. On this day once a year both the tribes of Kane and Ku, independent of each other, would present traditional sacrifices of grains and goats and pigs on the altars near the sea. The Ku had been known to sacrifice war slaves and political rivals and the Kane hated the practice. The Kane felt morally superior in their stance against human sacrifice and it, in part, created friction between the two tribes. Though there had been many skirmishes and raids over the years it is known that friends can be made out of a common enemy.
Their new enemy was the Haoles, the ‘People of No Breath’. They had arrived on their glowing white ship and temporarily fulfilled the prophecies as told by generations of Shaman, within the Tribes of Kane and Ku alike.
The two tribes occupied opposite ends of the west facing Kealekekua Bay which was located along the southwest coast of the island known as Hawaii. The Ku lived along the north shore and the Kane in the south. Along the eastern perimeter of the deep water bay rise the forbidden cliffs, that act as border between the tribes. Beyond the cliffs to the east the land climbed up and up to the Thrones of the Gods in the clouds. To the northwest, in the hazy distance, you could see the island by the name of Maui. It was told amongst the Kane that the Ku had come from Maui a long time ago. The Ku also told the same story of the Kane. Up until last week they had both wished the other would go back to from where they had come.
It was agreed that each tribe would provide six men to escort a sacrifice to the ridge top ‘lifting point’. All the tribes of all the islands each believed in local lifting points, places where recently deceased souls would lift off the island and travel to the afterlife. If a soul were to somehow not make a clean lift off, so to speak, they would stay and live on the island in the form of a stone or a tree or maybe become captive to a Nightwalker the most active of spirit forms. The Nightwalkers were said to have lived in the clouds and mostly only travel at night, causing trouble and anxiety wherever they went.
Tamas took his turn and slung the woman over his shoulder and took his position at the front of the line. They climbed and he carried her through the mist and as they passed through the flowering ohia trees the birds fell silent. He carried her longer then he should have. The man next in line kept pushing for his turn, to do his part, but Tamas kept going. He sweated and she was already damp with fear as they shared their last moments together.
Two days before it was decided by the shamans and the chiefs that they would each choose the finest sacrifice from the others tribe. It created solidarity in commitment as the anti- sacrifice stance of the Kane people melted under the Light of necessity. The Haoles had arrived under the leadership of the man they called Cook. He appeared first as prophecy of good tidings but within days, hours, moments of 1st contact, it became known by the shamans that a Curse had arrived.
Tamas was tiring. His lungs burned for oxygen but under his labored breathing he was able to whisper, “I love you.”
She said nothing and then said, “I saw it get off the ship.” He took a half pause to breath and the next man made a grab for her. Tamas pushed him back with a grunt and kept climbing.
“It is following us now. I keep seeing it behind us.” He stopped and turned with a jolt and almost dropped her as the next man snatched her away. He stood there as the line of men proceeded past as he looked back down the trail and saw nothing but sun dappled trees and silence.
In the early morning before they started climbing there was a ritual cleansing of the sacrifices, and it made Tamas’ stomach turn in memory. The shamans stood side by side and each procured a small blunt-bladed knife made of seashell and in unison they made a quick motion and jammed it into the women’s right eye socket. In one scoop the eyes were removed and the shaman in turn popped them in their mouth and chewed and swallowed. The idea being that they as wise men wanted to gain some insight into the afterlife.
At the tail end of the line he could see the woman’s blood on the back and haunches of the other men. He reached back and his leg and felt wetness. He looked at his fingers and saw blood. It all felt like a dream, here he was huffing up a mountain preparing to kill the girl that he loved. They had met by accident a month earlier while out on the dry hillside.
He had been out hunting and she was out collecting firewood. Her name was Ke'ana and they both appeared to be way outside of their respective territories. They began to have secret meetings at this place and began to form a bond between their respective tribes and themselves. The bond quickly became physical and was followed by flooding emotions of love and hope. How ironic then, that the two tribes are now bonded in destroying the lives of two of their members.
At sunrise the two captives were traded and it made Tamas' blood boil. He had tried to veto the vote but the other five men seemed to be in a trance Tamas thought. The words kept running in his head,
“I saw it get off the ship.”
Chapter 3) Chirikov; Alaska 1741
Vlad did not want to get in the boat. He only did because his father was the captain of the ship and when he tells you to do something, you do it. The oars dipped silently in the black water, save for the wiggle and clack in the oarlocks. The man pulling the oars was nervous.
“Quit shaking, you!” Vlad scolded. As 1st Mate he had to take control of this boat and his men and venture to shore. The oars dipped and met their reflections in the glass surface of the water. Faint purple clouds awoke slowly to greet the sun coming up over the grey mountain tops in the east.
They paddled along the shore as it curved into the small inlet. They were told by the captain to stay within view of the ship. The clear evening and early morning would be giving way to another weather front moving in. Even in the last few minutes fog could be seen moving low into the mouth of the bay.
Two days before, a landing party had disembarked from the ship to explore on the shore. Vlad was mad that he had not been chosen to lead the landing party. The group of eleven men was to return in four hours and Vlad had spent most of the time sulking in the galley. After five hours word got around the boat that the crew was still not back. After ten hours it was beginning to get dark. It was a long night of quiet whispering and speculating. The next day it was decided to send a search party and Vlad was to lead this party.
The bow of the small boat touched onto the gravel beach. It was within view of the large ship. Vlad could see his father, Captain Chirikov, watching through the telescope. The line man jumped ashore and ran the bowline up towards the trees at the head of the beach. The beach ran twenty strides deep to where it ended in tall evergreen trees that reached high into the grey sky. The man tied off the line onto a protruding root that was sticking out of the soil. The man hesitated as he ducked under the long low branches. He peered into the forest. It was dark and silent. He tied the line and then turned around towards the boat and could see tiny raindrops beginning to fall in the water. He thought that it looked beautiful with the boat and the men all looking silent and expectant against the tree lined profile of the adjacent ridge. The man's name was Ivan and he looked to his right and saw that the fog bank was advancing on the ship anchored out in the bay.
“That goddamned ship!” Ivan thought. “I am so happy to be off that ship and now more than ever, all I want to do is get back on the ship,” he lamented in his head. It seemed unfair, the whole thing. “We walk across all of goddamned Russia, build a ship in Petropavlovsk, sail around in the goddamned frozen ocean, go back to Petropavlovsk and build two more ships and come back out onto this goddamned ocean. We became separated from Bering’s ship three weeks ago and have not seen it since. Ten years it has taken to get here and I am on land for 10 minutes! Then what?! Back on the ship! They will say!” The thoughts flooded his mind. He felt a surge of fear and pity and hopelessness as he recounted his previous decade.
Ivan could hear Vlad hiss, “What are you doing?” How long had he been standing there, five seconds or five minutes? He remembered to give the ‘all clear, come ashore’ signal and waved for them to come. As he climbed out of the boat Vlad thought about how he needed to control his men better. Just then Ivan let out a yelp as he came running back down the beach. The other three men, Vlad included, instinctually yelped in unison and quickly scrambled back into the boat.
Ivan shouted, “Cut the line, cut the line!” and the 2nd mate, a man by the name of Gregor, quickly cut the line and shoved the boat back out into the inlet. The tide was rising, calling them back to the water.
A moment later Vlad got his wits back and clapped Ivan over the head as Ivan was trying to move back to the oars and mumbling “The ship, the ship…” He was starting to row and Vlad punched him in the face and the other two held Ivan down.
“What are you doing? What happened?!” Vlad demanded. Ivan kept saying “The ship, the ship…” as the punch in the face seemed to calm him. He was already down sitting on his ass in the ankle deep water and he stayed there and kind of curled up and didn’t say anything else. Vlad and the other men looked Ivan and looked at each other. They then turned and looked at the ship just in time to see top of the mast disappear into the rolling fog bank, the hull and the rest of the ship already obscured. Then it started to rain hard now as the men sat silent in the small boat as it continued inland with the rising tide.
As 1st mate, Vlad decided to go ashore in a different spot seeing as how they now could not see the ship anyway. In the last half hour Ivan regained some composure. He seemed thoughtful, if not lost in thought.
“What happened?!” Gregor berated.
“Ease off,” Vlad countered. They sat and watched the line man who now seemed melodramatic in his thoughtful pose.
“What the hell are you doing?!” Gregor lunged at Ivan. They scuffled in the bilge water as it continued to collect the pouring rain.
Pulling them apart, Vlad made the order to go ashore again. He pointed out a nice little tree that was growing out on the end of a little gravel spit that stuck out into the now dead end inlet. There was a murmur of consent but no one picked up the oars. They would let the tide take them if it was meant to be. The boat eased back onto the shore a minute later. This time Vlad sent Gregor ashore, he in turn made a show of bravery and leapt off the bow and tied the line to the little tree.
“See! There, what is the big deal?” Gregor demanded.
“It is in the trees,” Ivan said. Gregor dramatically turned and looked down the gravel spit to where it ended in the dark forest. It was nearly black. It was a tight fit tucked in the back of this inlet under the steep, tree covered mountains. There was little room left for Light.
“Well then get off the goddamned boat! Whatever ‘it’ is, we will kill it!” Gregor stormed back down to the water’s edge and stomped into the thigh deep water along the side of the boat and reached in and grabbed Ivan by the scruff and heaved him into the water. “What is it?! What is it?!” Gregor was screaming now.
“These men seem to be acting irrational,” Vlad thought as he jumped into the water and pulled the man off of the other as he turned and barked at the last man, “Get out of the boat!”
Chapter 4) Namas and Tiluk; Alaska 1741
Namas and Tiluk had been paddling their small dug out canoe for three days. They had left their sheltered village which sits at the end of the water and at the foot of the mountains. Now they were in a world where the mountains became smaller and the ocean became bigger. They came to rest on a piece of land that was an island. Beyond the island Namas told Tiluk how the ocean became unbroken and the waves became as tall as the mountains.
Tiluk thought about this as they paddled. He had never paddled more than two days journey from his home which is located at the end of a long finger of water that splintered deep into the Coast Range of present day Southeast Alaska.
At sixteen Tiluk was ready to become a man and he was taking this journey with Namas, his grandfather. There was a girl in the neighboring village of the same clan who he wished to marry. In order to do that he had to search far and wide for a gift for the chief of the village, the father of the girl.
Tiluk and Namas were of the Wolf Clan and Namas was the patriarch of his family. He knew all of the ways of the land and sea and he knew all of their stories.
“Tell me again of the ‘Great Swimming Wolf’, Grandfather,” Tiluk asked again. It was his favorite story ever since he was a child. He could remember Namas’ own father telling the story to the family at night around the fire. When he died the story became the property of Namas and only he could tell it. Tiluk knew that one day the story would become his own and he would be telling it to his own grandchildren.
Tiluk’s own father had disappeared a long time ago when he was still a boy. He had journeyed south with his brothers in search of sea bears and never came home. Tiluk’s father had known where a large rookery was but it was a four day paddle to the south and closer to being within the range of the mighty Haida.
Years later Word had traveled north that the three brothers had been captured by the Haida and that they had been used as forced labor along with other captured people to paddle the huge war boat back to Haida Quaii, the Haida Fortress Island. The Word said that the two uncles had died along the way but Tiluk’s own father had survived and may still be alive. No living members of the Wolf Clan had seen the Haida up close except Namas.
“When I had heard the Word that your father and his brothers had been captured I was not surprised. I had seen the Haida when I went to the Sea Bears long before you were alive. My grandfather had taken me when I was your age. We knew that the Sea Bears were large and aggressive compared to the seal and the otter. But I was seeking power.”
Tiluk paddled as he had heard this story before, along with every other person back in the village.
Namas continued, “We paddled with a wide turn deep into the bay so that we could pull our boats high into the forest and then attack the sea bears from behind, from the land. As we crept silently through the forest I could just begin to see the light of the sea through the trees. We could hear and smell the huge creatures as they sunned themselves on the rocks below. Just as we came into view of the rocky outcrop, the sea bears began to rise into a panic. I remember thinking, “There was no way the animals could have sensed us…,” Namas paused.
Tiluk knew that was when he was to ask, “What did you see?”
Namas acted like he did not hear the question and pointed to a not so far off point of land and said, “We pull in there.” He paddled for a few minutes in silence and then answered, “I saw men in a huge canoe, many times bigger than boats you have ever seen. The huge boat had just nosed to shore from the south, as we had approached from the north. The men all had paddles in hand as they launched on to the shore and started clubbing as many sea bears as they could. Most of the sea bears fled into the sea but many of the small ones were too slow and easy prey for the men. They had faces as black as night and thin eyes and large arms and legs. My grandfather and I watched in silence from the cover of the forest. Then after not long my grandfather said, ‘We must go.’ We turned and ran back into the dark woods and made our way back to our boats. Only then did Grandfather tell me, ‘The Sea Bears lie outside of our territory.’ We pulled an ever wider berth into the bay as we made our way back north undetected by the Haida.”
Tiluk felt relieved knowing that they had been traveling due west instead of south though they were still venturing beyond the scope of their traditional territory. Namas cleared his throat. He sat in the rear of the canoe as his paddle dipped silently in the glassy water. Tiny raindrops dimpled the surface.
“We are going to the furthest place in our world, The Furthest Temple. As you know our people live deep in the valley at the foot of the mountain where the sea ends. It used to be just the mountains and the sea facing each other. Over the years our people became tired of the high winds and heavy seas constantly raking up and down the coast. Then one day they started digging in the shore by one scoop at a time and carrying it out into the ocean to drop it in. They did this for many generations. Scoop by scoop they dug their way back into the mountains like a Wolf digs her den. Soon the channel was very long and very deep. The scoops of dirt had grown into islands tall and distant and our people decided to build our village where it stands to this day. We are the Wolf people and we use the mountains and the beach and the ocean to live.”
Namas paused and watched as a giant bald eagle sat atop a craggy tall dead tree as two ravens dove and swooped trying to drive it from its perch.
“And it is told that when we build our den deep enough and secure enough that the Great Swimming Wolf will come from the high seas beyond the islands on a canoe that floats on the wings of a white raven. And in the canoe the Great Swimming Wolf will bring spirits who are who are strong and helpful to our people and we will rise as a great nation and one day be strong enough to defeat the Haida to the south. The Furthest Temple is the farthest place that our people carried dirt as we dug into the mountains. It is where our ancestors stopped and prayed that our land was secure enough for the Great Swimming Wolf to come into our dangerous world.
Namas concluded, “Let’s pull in here.”
The grey gravel beach ran 20 paces up into the dark understory of the fog shrouded forest. A little creek ran down a draw and the bottom of the draw was lined with alders. The creek was maybe five paces wide and calf-deep as it bubbled noisily over polished rocks. On the beach it spread out into a delta fan as it met the ocean. Several seagulls idly called as the two men carried their canoe up the gravel.
Tiluk was feeling nervous all of the sudden. He put his hand on the handle of his dagger which was made out of elk horn. He had heard many tellings of Namas’ story, about how they dug the channel and built the islands. Each telling, Namas would add a little or change a little. He had heard of the Great Swimming Wolf arriving on the wings of a white raven but never the part where they would grow to defeat the mighty Haida to the south.
They walked silently into the open understory of the tall hemlock and spruce forest. They followed along the top edge of the embankment where it drops into the draw created by the creek. Their feet were level with the tops of the tall alders which grew in thick clumps out of the gravel near the creek.
They walked slowly and would periodically stop and listen. The creek noise filled the draw while three steps back from the embankment it was silent in the forest. After a short while a game trail came in from the forest on the left and cut diagonally down into the creek bed. There were fresh deer tracks and both men were feeling hungry.
The purpose of this walk and this journey to the edge of the known world of the Wolf Clan was to invite a helpful spirit into the realm of the humans and then exist as a protector and helper to Tiluk. Tiluk had to move and think with open intentions. He could not choose which spirit would help him. The spirit had to choose him.
They followed the little trail down into the draw. The deer tracks were fresh in the loamy black soil. It looked like two or three deer were moving upstream. The men walked patiently and silently. The noise from the stream covered their sound to some extent and a fresh breeze was picking up and blowing down valley, back towards the beach. Tiluk smiled because he knew these were perfect stalking conditions.
Chapter 5) David; Alaska 2030
David took a swig of water, threw it in his backpack and then swung the pack back over his shoulder. He snapped the waist belt followed by the sternum strap. He stomped his feet a couple of times to kick the snow off of his ski tips. He slid them back and forth in the snow and noticed a slight hang-up along the edge of one ski. He half cursed under his breath and kicked the binding off, flipped the ski up, pulled a hard credit card shaped piece of plastic out of his pocket and ran it down the edges to chip any ice away.
While he had been hiking on the ridge the ski became warm where it rested on his shoulder and when he put it back down in the snow any snow that came in contact would very briefly melt and then refreeze. He muttered again and forced himself to click the other ski off and clean it too. He was in a hurry but he knew it would pay off to have fast skis.
In most cases a skier up on a ridge top will avoid skiing in on top of someone. The potential to accidentally ski cut off an avalanche and bury someone below is assumed to be too great of a risk. The man looked down the slope with steely eyes. The two figures were moving fast. “The rangers never move that fast,” he thought, “unless they are after someone.” He assumed they were after him and that risk, as he judged, outweighed the potential of burying the two. He would give them two minutes to cut back to the climbers right away from the run out zone under him.
At 1:48am he dropped in and did a quick ski cut to skier’s right. After but a moment and a glance over his shoulder, he continued fall line. He anticipated a fair sized snow slough to start running with him and he had about 100 yards before he could duck to his right into a new fall line and out of the way as the slough rocketed by.
“Hopefully for those guys it doesn’t pop out down low,” he thought with a glimmer of compassion. He skied fast, ducked to the right, saw the slough build and run but the deeper layers on the lower pitch remained solid. He could see the too figures now startled as the fast moving slough now bore down on them.
It actually put a smile on his face as he was now even with them across the slope. The two people awkwardly tried to traverse out of the way but with their skins on the skis don’t glide all that well. The second the wall of snow hit them he heard his name called out by one of the skiers, “Davy!”
“What did I hear?!” the man automatically slammed to a stop and considered his options. His name was David, he had always gone by the name David. The only people that ever called him ‘Davy’ was his mother, who never touched a pair of skis in her life, let alone climbed a mountain in the middle of the night. His father, the ex-ski mountaineer turned corporate CEO for the local mining company. His father was the very reason skiing was outlawed in Girdwood Valley. “Not likely he’d be out here unless he told security my name…”
That leaves his estranged best friend Avery. Well, it is not so much that he is estranged but more that David wanted to punch him in the face. As right now he could see and hear Avery cartwheeling in the snow with the occasional ‘motherfucker’ rising above the hiss of the snow.
“I thought he was out of state?!” was David's first thought as he was now compelled by some ancient script to rise above and rescue his friend. As far as the other guy went, he did not know.
When a slough runs down the mountain it may build enough weight and propagate into slabs or it may pitter out and do nothing. David generally liked to see some positive result, showing that some energy has been released. This slough was a little in between, whereas it built speed and then spread out in a broad fan only a couple of feet deep. David zipped and traversed to his left and was skiing on the rubble as it was slowing to a stop. He could see both people on the surface. Just then the moon was obscured and they fell into comforting darkness. David hissed under his breath at Avery, “What the fuck are you doing here?” as he started to pull Avery up and out of the snow and to his feet.
Avery responded with a measured yell-whisper, “What am I doing?! What are you doing cutting a slide down on us? You fucking dick!”
“I thought you were Rangers…”
“Rangers?! What are you trying to kill rangers now?”
“I was just gonna scare them… forget it, who is your friend?”
They were both on their knees now digging out the head attached to the flailing arm sticking out of the snow. In 20 seconds they cleared the snow from his face and Avery introduced, “Drey, this is David, David Drey. He just buried us but he is cool.” In another minute they were all on their feet with skis attached, no broken limbs, everyone is breathing.
“WE gotta go!” David implored. “They are going to start with the 105’s in 10 minutes!” This was the only time to ski Girdwood Valley. If any mine official saw any tracks the next day they would initiate a house to house search for the offending trespasser. There were not a lot of houses at the end of Raven River Road so it was too risky to leave tracks. You had to time it with fresh snow that posed a risk to the mine property. They mitigate those risks with old military issue Howitzer 105 mm guns. It is a very effective mitigation tool and the mine owners are quite aggressive in protecting their interests. The night crew comes on at midnight and they usually make their way to the guns by 2:00am. Then all of the sudden, BOOM! Gun 16 just launched a shell. It is located ½ mile down the valley from the skier’s position but the noise was amplified up the canyon making David nearly shit his pants.
They were straight lining down into the glades as David glanced back and saw the shell blast hit the broad upper face he just skied. A second later a long fracture line zinged across the top 1/3 of the whole slope like a ding in a car windshield. “GO! GO! GO” He shouted.
Chapter 6) Tamas; Hawaii 1779
The Hawaiians finally made it to the jungle plateau. It was deceiving, with one wrong step off the edge in the undergrowth and you would end up 1000 feet down to the bottom of the cliffs. The trail is faint now as it hooks back to the right and pops out of the dark vegetation on to a high lookout facing the soon to be setting sun.
The six men of the Kane tribe stood to the left with the Ku woman whose name was Le'oni. The six Ku men stood to the right with Ke'ana, the Kane woman. The two Shaman stood at the center and faced the women who stood their backs now to the obviously large cliff right behind them. Koa’a was from the Kane tribe and Parea was from the Ku tribe. Tamas briefly entertained the idea of just pushing the two old men off and being done with it.
“There is no stupid curse, why are we doing this again?” he kept his thought to himself. Both the Shaman then pulled the blankets off of the women’s heads and face and revealed a pitiful sight. Each had their right eye gouged out two hours prior as they were then hogtied and then carried up the side of a tropical mountain by the bunch of dirty sweaty men. The offended eye socket was packed with dry leaves and then wrapped with long green leaves. Blood and dirt and tears streamed their faces. Koa’a turned around to the men and there were shutters of disgust and outrage.
Brothers, sisters, cousins, lovers, fathers, sons… “Why are we doing this,” was on everyone’s mind. Then Ke'ana looked up to the faces of her captors and her lover.
“They are so bound by tradition that they thought THIS was the answer!” she lamented. The Shaman held the women forward to the men and Koa’a spoke:
“What do you do when the sky that you view becomes skewed and the earth gives birth to the thing that you dread in your head and the sound that goes round and round to the sound of the call of your voice? A choice must arise, though you despise the vote to go with a gun on a boat. And by rote you protest though the Will is manifest.”
Silence, then Ke'ana said, “It is here.” The shaman looked startled and paused.
Then the Ko’oa blurted, “By whose will?! By whose will is it?” He nearly shook her as he rose to a near panic in a split second.
She turned and almost with a smirk said, “By your Will. The Nightwalker carries it out.”
Tamas thought back to a week earlier as the glowing white ship pulled into the middle of Kealakekua Bay. It was early winter and the last of the summer swells had faded from the south and the dull roar was implanted in his head by the winds blasting through the tree tops at the end of the point to the south. Everyone was very excited as Lono had returned. It was the tradition for the king of the island to paddle out to the open channel and return to shore acting as the God Lono. The men on shore would attack with spears and the king would dodge them as evidence that he was indeed the God Lono.
In this case the king had paddled out but then hurriedly returned with reports of a ‘grand canoe arriving over the horizon with sails as big as the sun.’ His charade was blown but he did not care for the true god Lono had arrived! An hour later the great canoe rounded the point and pulled into the bay. After some fanfare the ship dropped anchor and the chiefs paddled out together with their respective entourage. The Kane had seen the ship coming in earlier and raced along in their canoes to follow the ship to where it anchored in front of the Ku village in the north.
Tamas remembered sitting in his canoe and looking at the ship. Upon closer inspection it appeared to be made of wood but was also embellished with some foreign materials, bright and shiny things. The men that had appeared at the railing of the ship looked sickly and pale.
“Who could be on the ocean from over the horizon and still have no sun in their skin?” Tamas had thought to himself. All of the island people were drawn together by the ship. All disputes and dreams and aspirations were put on hold the moment they laid eyes on those giant sails and the treasures they carried.
All the canoes had been filled with people and yams and potatoes and hogs. It was soon known that the people who sailed with Cook really wanted those things and in trade they offered iron and ropes and burlap bags.
All of the sudden Ke'ana spoke up, drawing Tamas out of memory.
“We were all on the boat at night. They let us stay on because they wanted to sleep with our women and they wanted to amaze the men with their magic. It was hard not to take something.”
The twelve men stood transfixed by the woman speaking.
“Do you remember when the small creature that Cook called a ‘cat’ fell off the ship and Tamas paddled after it and retrieved it? We were near Cook’s room when he went out on deck to show thanks for saving the cat. When he went out we ducked into the room and stood amazed at the things he had. We had to be quick. I looked around and saw an object in a leather bag on his desk. I felt drawn to it and I grabbed it. It felt hot in my hands. In the bag was a small wooden box. We hurried out just as Cook returned and we got in our canoe and went to shore. When we got to shore there was much activity. We hurried up the trail to the overlook just above the village. At the overlook, in view of the ship, we decided to open the little box and when we did I felt a wave of heat and Light and Darkness surge out and the ring of energy spread quickly in all directions. When the wave hit the ship I swear that I saw it shudder and all of the birds flew away. No one else seemed to notice.”
Ke'ana continued, “I suddenly felt like I was being watched and my eyes looked and they were drawn to the highest point of the ship and there I saw a Nightwalker looking at me. It was larger than a man but had no color and no shape. It looked like a shadow and a blink of the Sun at the same time. I sat there dumbfounded as it moved like lightning down the mast and past all of the people who apparently did not see it. And it went in the water and appeared on the shore very quickly. I suddenly got very scared and found the strength to close the box. The Nightwalker then appeared to vanished so we buried the box right there in the burial site at the overlook.”
At this the two Shaman turned and subtly nodded agreement in choosing the correct people to sacrifice. They then turned simultaneously and pushed the two women off the cliff. Their bodies would be destroyed and carried away by birds to the sea.
Chapter 7) Chirikov; Alaska 1741
The four cold and wet Russians had been sitting in the rain at the end of the little spit for almost half an hour. The tide was rapidly rising and Vlad would have to make a decision soon. Captain Chirikov expected them back at the ship after four hours and now it had just been oven an hour. The tide was clearly going to rise to a point where the tree at the end of the spit would remain above water but the spit itself would be under three or four feet.
“Time to move,” Vlad announced.
He felt like the men were being watched. He also felt like they had no real option other then find out what had happened to the first boat. They stepped in to the low light of the forest and cautiously began walking parallel to the shoreline of the little cove. They would walk and then Vlad would signal for them to stop and listen. Ivan had a rifle on his shoulder, though the powder was most likely wet. They walked again briefly and then suddenly Vlad signaled for them all to duck low and let out a startled yelp as they all saw a great sweeping shadow roll silently down the hillside from the other side of the cove.
At first Vlad thought it was a brown bear or a great elk like those back in Russia. It would be good to collect some game meat he thought as they all watched. But before he could think another thought the shadow swept across their path seemingly oblivious to the men who were crouching low. They could smell a distinct odor of animal but could not tell what animal it was through the thick understory of vegetation. The creature moved directly to the base of a large tree and there Vlad could see he was looking at an enormous wolf like creature. It was easily three times the size of a normal wolf found back in Russia. The men watched stupefied as the wolf appeared to shape shift to the form of a man as he glanced over his shoulder and looked directly at the cowering Russians.
At that he took a small bundle from inside the ornate animal skin vest he was wearing and stashed it into the hole at the base of the large tree. Then the Russians heard a shrill whistle as a second man made his presence known. At that the first man shifted back to the shape of the enormous wolf and with one look over his shoulder, bounded up the hill towards the second man and in an instant they were gone into the mist.
“Heaven and Hell are adjacent and identical,” Vlad thought to himself. An impenetrable silence fell over the forest. The sound of rain falling through the upper canopy stirred the senses back to the present. Ivan who had previously lost his cool, now felt vindicated in having his comrades witness what he had only felt. “I told you so,” he whispered and it almost brought a smile to his face.
Silence, the men laid there for another hour and did not move a muscle. Their minds were spinning and confused. They knew that they were in a new land and there might be creatures encountered that had been previously unknown in the old world but shape-shifting humans were not to be expected. Vlad felt like he had hatched a decent plan in his head while they sat. He instructed the three men to go back to the boat and untie it and prepare to launch as soon as possible. “I am going to get that thing and get it to Russia,” he said referring to the bundle under the tree.
“Why would you do that?” Ivan asked, “You saw the devil himself put it there. I think he is trying to trick us.”
“It is powerful and we are here to seek land and power for Russia and I am going to get it.” Images of his father back on the ship shaking his head in disappointment. “We could try telling this story but who would believe us?”
“I never want to think of this day, we have seen the Devil and he was here walking his dog! Let’s get out of here!” Gregor said.
“As 1st Mate and I am in charge of this party and you will do as I order. If you do not do as I say you will be punished as committing mutiny. What say you?”
The three sailors were baffled by Vlad’s tone of authority and surprised by his audacious plan to retrieve that cursed object. They nodded an agreement as the 1st mate and set off down the spit towards the boat. They were told to wait for him to come running, but instead they fell into conspiracy. As Vlad built his courage to make the move of a lifetime, the three sailors silently untied the line and started rowing out the inlet into the fog on the now falling tide.
Vlad thought he had only paused for a moment. He wanted the men to have enough time to untie the boat and have it ready to launch.
“Our men from the first crew??!” was his first thought as he came running out of the forest and into the light of the gravel spit. The spit was now crowded with people and Vlad instantly recognized faces from the previously lost crew. They all seemed to be flailing around and trying to get the attention of Vlad’s own three men as they were just pulling away from shore. There must have been ten men waist deep in the water pulling and shaking on the boat but to Vlad’s astonishment his three men did not seem to notice the horde of cursing and yelling sailors!
He felt confused as he only wanted his men to see him in this bold act of reconnaissance and then report back to his Father, the Captain, how valiant he had acted.
Then the horde of sailors turned to Vlad and one of the disheveled looking officers said, “How nice of you to join us!”
The spit was now mostly under knee deep water as he tried to run while aiming for the security of the dark forest. He found no time to yell at his crew in the face of this now apparent mutiny. He never saw the rock get thrown with a long perfect trajectory from the rear of the horde as it smashed into the back of his head.
Captain Chirikov was tired of waiting. He had sent his son out nearly four hours ago or about 3 and one half hours too long, if his nerves had any say. Right as Vlad and his crew had pulled away from the ship in the small boat the fog rolled in thick and obscured any further support from the ship. After a few minutes the fog cleared up from around the ship, but to where the men had gone out looking for the other boat, it remained behind a sheer wall of clouds that seemed to reach to the top of the sky. It was completely calm, they could not sail if they wanted to. Then as if in a dream, Chirikov could hear the distinct creek of the oars and the slip of the blade in the glassy water. He could hear a pause as the rower took a breath and the drops of the water ran up the blade edge before dropping into the water.
The Captain reached for his telescope and took head count just as bow emerged from the fog. 1, 2, 3… he counted, only the three of the four. His son’s cap, he did not see it! “There has to be a mistake,” he spoke out loud to one of his officers. He took a second glance to confirm his worst nightmare and turned towards his cabin, “Send them to see me.” The row strokes turned cautious now as Gregor saw the captain turn away.
They had only a few moments to get their story straight. While still in the fog they had decided to say that ‘the natives had come out of nowhere and they fought and Vlad was killed.’ But there were no gunshots and they did not have any wounds.
“He drown.”
“Where is the body?”
“How did he drown?”
“He fell. Hit his head. Tide took him.”
“Natives took him.”
“We don’t want to start a war.”
“We are getting close to the ship I think.”
“We say he fell in a ravine.”
“He will want to see the body.”
“Should we mention the, the Beast?”
Silence.
“I don’t think he would believe us.”
“Dammit, there is the ship! Keep going steady.”
Through clenched teeth, “Just say the natives. We won’t go to war. We have to find Bering’s ship.” They had been separated from their sister ship Captained by Bering almost three weeks earlier while crossing the mighty north Pacific.
They pulled up right alongside the ship, tied off and then climbed aboard. Chirikov was quickly descending into a state of depression thinking of his son. He did not need to hear the details. He had been reluctant to bring him along on such a long journey when he was leaving such a pretty young wife and their two year old girl. He did not want to send his son on the 1st recon boat and did not want to send him out on the 2nd boat, which sent to find the first. But there was no one left of rank. And his son insisted. The first boat of 11 was missing for 2 days before he very reluctantly sent the second boat.
Someone knocked at the door. He called the men in. They were dripping wet and seemed somewhat bewildered. It looked like one of them had been crying.
“Well?” Chirikov was curious now as he struggled to remain professional. Emotions of rage and despair bubbled just beneath the surface.
“The natives—they came out—out of nowhere and they had some spears and we had to run. We ran and Vlad fought and they got him and we had to run. We didn’t see the other boat. The woods are bad. I could not tie the line…”
They all blurted at once. Chirikov cut them off with words of a resounding clarity that exercised all the authority his Command could afford, “Where is my son?!”
“Gone in the woods.”
“The natives killed and took him? But you got away?”
“Yes,” they all said in perfect harmony.
The Captain had them at that. He knew they were lying. “They practiced. Probably while rowing out of the fog,” He thought to himself.
“Go downstairs and eat, you must be starving,” he instructed, “I need to rest.”