Brothers in Arms
by Kai Toh
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Table of Contents parts 1, 2, 3 |
part 1
Autumn, 1980
“Hello, Mike is it?” the Cree asked, offering his hand. “My name is Ahanu. I have been tasked with finding someone known as the Chief of the Skytrees. I have been told by elders that the leader of this small family lives near the town of Brimwood and where the trees are said to be the tallest in all the land. I have gear in case I need to go into the woods but have been asking around to see if anyone has information first, rather than blindly stumbling into a giant unknown forest. Some have mentioned you sometimes make trips into that vicinity to drop off supplies to a local hermit. I thought I’d inquire more.”
“That hermit might be who you are looking for. He does live near tall trees, and, obviously, this is Brimwood. He is aboriginal as well,” Mike explained. “He likes his privacy, but I can communicate to him all you have told me and see if he wishes to meet you.”
“That sounds fine. I hear you visit him only occasionally, and I imagine it is quite a trek, but there is some urgency in this matter.”
“I travel on a small motorbike. I can get in contact with him and probably let you know within a day whether he will see you.”
“Thank you,” Ahanu replied and, after thinking it through, involuntarily asked, “How?”
“It has been my experience if you want this person’s help, it is best not to be too inquisitive or ask too many questions and simply focus on what you need to do. You need him; he doesn’t need you. He likes to keep things to himself and will not like people who are too curious.”
“That’s fair. Thank you for the advice,” the Cree said and gave him his phone number at the inn he was staying. Then he departed.
The “how” was by raven messaging. Mike wrote the message on a piece of paper, one-quarter the size of a standard sheet, then rolled it into a black cylinder and put a small cap on the end. He opened his window and put it in a makeshift messenger holder on the windowsill. A raven lived nearby, and his only function was to check for messages a couple of times a day. If he found one, the raven would immediately fly the 40 kilometres to Raith’s home and then return to his own home. A corresponding raven would take Raith’s message to Mike.
When Raith got the message, he was intrigued but wrote simply, “I will meet him. Bring him Wednesday at noon.” Mike got the message, passed it on to Ahanu, and told him to meet at a parking lot near the entrance to the forest where Raith lived. The Cree insisted he must pay Mike for his time. Mike agreed, indeed, he must! However, Mike gave Ahanu a good rate and said he would wait two hours in case Ahanu needed a ride back.
If Ahanu was lucky enough to stay over, Mike would come back the next day. The Cree then asked, what if Raith would be coming back with them? Mike said he could make two trips or Raith could find his own way. He gave the Cree a knowing look. Ahanu got the hint: no questions.
* * *
Mike and Ahanu met in an empty parking lot at 11:30 a.m. Mike chose this location because Ahanu could park overnight if needed. Mike rode slower than he normally would. It was an unkept narrow trail once used by hikers that would fit only the slimmest of bikes, never mind a motor bike. Raith and Mike had worked on the making the trickier parts of the route accessible to an expert rider. A couple of times a year, Raith would make the trip on foot and clean up the trail as needed.
Ahanu was at ease and showed little fear, so Mike finished the journey at his normal speed. The nearly invisible trail continued onward but, since no one maintained it after it reached Raith’s home, it was overgrown and nearly impassable. Ahanu and Mike dismounted and took off their helmets. Ahanu walked towards Raith who was standing outdoors, waiting for them.
“As Mike must have told you, I am Ahanu,” the Cree said. “I am part of the Cree tribe in Waskaganish, on James Bay. I was told to find the Chief of the Skytrees.”
“That is a very archaic title that was given to my deceased father many decades ago. Only a few aging elders would associate this place with Skytrees,” said Raith.
“I was given the name Rhythern.”
“That was my father. My name, as Mike must have told you, is Raith. I guess I am that leader now. What can I do for you?”
Mike stayed with his bike to give the two some privacy and took out a newspaper and sat on a dry tree stump.
“Have you heard of the Ministikese?”
“Ministik is Cree for island,” Raith said. “There is an infamous island called that and the people who live on that island like to be left alone, attacking anyone who approaches them. They, themselves, are not Cree.”
“Correct. Waskaganish is the closest neighbour to the Ministikese people. We’ve interacted a handful of times throughout history. Like you said, the people have attacked anyone who approached the island. The federal and provincial governments have decided to leave them alone. Throughout history, a few have died trying to reach the island, but these were in the early settler days and none of the Ministikese were ever prosecuted.”
Raith nodded. It was all very interesting, but he was wondering his part in all of this.
“There was a missionary,” Ahanu started, but Raith groaned and then quickly apologized. The Cree continued, “I share your point of view. This missionary approached the island by bribing some Cree members. Those Cree have been reprimanded appropriately for their part in this. The Ministikese started firing arrows. The boat flipped over. They saw a lifeless body floating and then sinking. The Ministikese went to get their canoes to recover the body and salvage anything of value. While they were doing this, the missionary, who happens to be a very strong swimmer and actually represented his university in competition, swam to shore undetected. He was captured eventually.
“However, some strange local custom does not allow the execution of an outsider once they set foot on the island. If their feet are in the water, you can spear him to death and shoot arrows at him, but different rules apply onshore. There are exceptions to these rules that I do not understand. There was a bit of a language barrier as only one member there knows a little Cree, but it is very elementary.”
“Interesting,” Raith said.
“This was less than a week ago. When the Ministikese are looking for help or at least will not attack boats that approach the island, they signal to others using yellow smoke. I, with a group of others, saw this and approached. The native who knows a little Cree took us to the Ministikese Chief, named Waka. He told us about the missionary and also how he wants to get rid of him without killing him.
“Now, their boats are good for fishing but not for travelling. Our canoes can get to the island, but their canoes can’t get anywhere far from the island unless the waters are really calm. Thus, they want us to take him away. That’s fine with us. We are happy to do it for better relations.
“However, it is imperative that he be safely dispatched to the proper authorities, and Chief Waka, for whatever reason, doesn’t trust us to do it. Finally, that is where you come in: an outsider that Chief Waka trusts is the Chief of the Skytrees. I think your father made a diplomatic visit in the past. Now, I told Chief Waka that a chief would be too important for such a task and asked him if a representative would do. He said yes, but that person must bring the commemorative gift that Waka gave his family in order to prove that he is a part of that Skytrees family.”
Raith mused in recollection: “I remember my father, along with a group of elders, banded together to do a survey of aboriginal groups all over northern Ontario and parts of Quebec. He was indeed sent as a diplomatic party to this island at a time when they were more welcoming. It was so long ago. I have forgotten the details of what my father told me besides the people being even more primitive than we were.
“This was in the late 1960s, when Rythern was Keeper of the Forest, inheriting the duties from his father long before that. Historically, the father would remain longer as Keeper, but the father saw how capable Rythern was as well as his passion and commitment to the role. However, as the elder of the family, it was reasonable that he would be recognized as the Chief. Unfortunately, my father was killed on a later diplomatic excursion by a gigantic red bear in the late 1960s.”
“I am so sorry to hear that.”
Raith nodded. “What do you know about these people?”
“They are not advanced. They wear skins, hunt with bows and spears, do not farm, and do not use any modern equipment. They never leave their island. Perhaps, they heard of diseases and the decimation they’ve caused to indigenous populations.”
“Can you tell me more about their interactions with others?” asked Raith. “We know there was a diplomatic one with my father and others.”
“The tribal elders would know better. If you leave them stuff on a raft, they’ll take it, but if you try to board the island, they’ll shoot arrows and throw spears. They do not care if you are black, brown, yellow, red or look exactly like them. They will fire first, unless the smoke signal is yellow.”
“How did that originate?” the dark-clad tribe leader wondered.
“A long time ago, a Cree tribe member saw yellow smoke coming from the island. He told some of the other Cree and he filled two canoes and set off to investigate. I was only a child then and have been told this only secondhand. As they approached, there were no drawn weapons, just a man awaiting them.
“They got to shore. A disease was spreading throughout the island. We’ve seen it before; it is called Black Tongue Plague and is a problem only in our area. We think it is one of the local, native insects that passes it along. The canoes went home, gathered as much medicine as they could, came back and gave it to the island tribe.
“The islanders were very thankful, and the yellow smoke continued, and we went back, and they thanked us with a lot of jewellery and trinkets and a lot of their own tea. It tastes terrible but, for decades, we’ve been told it has a lot of health benefits. We tried to continue improving relations, but the yellow smoke stopped.
“When we next approached, the same man shook his head. We got the idea: if we got closer, they would have drawn their weapons. We all went home after that. That was our interaction with them. I don’t think they’ve had any other interaction with other tribes or white men. We would have heard about it.”
“What do they look like? What are their physical characteristics?”
“They are short and stocky; the women, too. I think 5 to 5-and-a-half feet. Many of the woman are less that 5 feet. They are strong. Their skin is a light, reddish-brown. Their hair is dark brown; it is clearly not black. It is often long. I’m sure they do not have scissors to cut it. One of the elders with the Chief must have been in his 70s but did not have a single gray hair. It might not be polite to say, but they might be on the less attractive side when it comes to how most people and cultures look at beauty. They have neck and wrist tattoos.”
“What are they good at? Bows and spears, we know.” Raith found himself quite interested in these uncontacted people.
“I assume fighting, but unless you have someone to really attack, you don’t know how good or dangerous you are, and you can’t really fight amongst yourselves too intently. I wouldn’t want to fight with one. Those days are long gone for our people but not for them. They are excellent fisherman but, as I said earlier, they only fish around their island and don’t venture too far.”
“Where would we actually drop off this missionary?” Raith thought aloud.
“I talked to their chief. As long as you are along, it is okay to drop him at our local police in Waskaganish, and they can deal with him. People are not supposed to approach the island, and it is an offence to do so. They might charge him. Most likely, they’ll warn him and tell him not to do it again.”
“I must admit,” Raith said, “this is a lot of trouble to save someone who deserved to die in the first place. How long did it take you to get here? Ministik must be over a thousand kilometres from here.”
“It is around 13 hours driving. I broke it into two days. It took me a lot of days after that to find you. I agree that this is a lot of effort and expense: food, lodging and gas. I, too, think the missionary was foolish and deserved to die, but my Chief asked me to make this effort, and I am very loyal. Will you help?”
“I don’t like being in cars. I really don’t. I am almost as primitive as they are. in that way.”
“Unfortunately, driving is the only way. Planes don’t fly from here to there. I can drive you to Waskaganish, and we’ll canoe to Ministik and take the missionary back to the local police in Waskaganish. From there, I’ll drive you home.”
Raith could transform himself and fly himself, but it might take two to three times as long. He did not mind flying such a distance if he believed in the reason why he was doing such an action, but his motivation was abysmally low in this case.
Ahanu explained his motivation in an attempt to convince Raith: “One of the things that interests me is to be one of the first to make first contact with these people and learn about a primitive tribe that is so different from how we live today. There are others out there but not on this continent. It is quite exciting to be on their island and and to learn about and interact with a civilization that doesn’t talk to anyone. It is very intriguing to me and, through all the craziness, I feel blessed that I get to be a part of it.”
“I will admit there is a slight interest there.”
“And we’ll get to talk to the guy who almost got himself killed by trying to convert people who do not want anything to do with him,” Ahanu noted.
“That is less of a selling point. I can talk to foolish, crazy people anywhere.”
“Will you help us?” the Cree asked simply.
“I will,” Raith said. He did not really want to and thought it would be a pain and a chore, but he also felt it was the right thing to do.
“Thank you,” Ahanu said. “When should we go?”
“I was thinking right away. But I have to find the Ministik trinket. The missionary can wait. I am in no rush to try to save him.”
“If we leave in the morning, we can get there in the evening and get everything done the next day, and I can get you home the day after that.”
“How about 8 a.m. tomorrow at the trail entrance to this forest?” Raith asked. “Mike can show you.”
“Sounds good,” Ahanu said.
* * *
Copyright © 2025 by Kai Toh
