The Winter Spirits

by E. C. Hibbs

  He would do it, and by the time he was home, Mihka would be awake, and he himself would be a mage at last.

  Chapter Three

  The next morning, Tuomas woke early, alert as soon as he opened his eyes. The fire in the hearth had burned low, leaving the hut gloomy, but he could still tell that Paavo’s sleeping sack was empty. That was nothing out of the ordinary – his brother was an early riser.

  He pulled on his sealskin shoes and fur coat, lifted a rope off the central beam, and slipped outside. It was still dark, but that was to be expected. The brightest it would get would be a pale bluish twilight around midday. Luckily, the Moon Spirit was waxing overhead, giving just enough of a glow for him to see by.

  Drawing his neckline tight against the cold, he hurried off into the forest. The trees loomed straight and tall, black save for one side, which were dusted by snow that had blown in on a northern gale several days ago. It made for a land of stark contrast: no grey anywhere; edges either softened with snow or harsh with ice. The silence was absolute. There wasn’t a single breath of wind to stir the spruce branches, nor any cries from animals to herald a new day. In all appearances, time had frozen.

  But not for Tuomas. Urgency drove him on, through ankle-deep snow, until he found the reindeer herd. Even if they hadn’t been wearing bells around their necks, the air was slowly filled with the clicking sound of tendons sliding over knees. It was said to be a way for the animals to find each other if they were ever separated in a blizzard. But it helped the herders to find them just as much.

  A large group of reindeer stood together for warmth, using their wide hooves to dig into the snow in search of lichen. Some had already found patches and were nibbling away contentedly.

  Tuomas looked over them, searching for one of his. Although the herd as a whole belonged to Akerfjorden, each reindeer was owned by a single individual. Every herder had their own unique mark, which was cut into the animals’ ears while they were still calves. It was as distinctive as a fingerprint, and Tuomas, like everyone else, could recognise his instantly.

  He looped the rope into a lasso. After circling them a few times, he spotted what he was after. Near the edge of the group was a strong young bull with pale grey fur, which he’d been training to take a sleigh for the previous few years. Perfect.

  He approached slowly, never taking his eyes off the reindeer. Then he raised the rope and threw it.

  The noose landed around the bull’s neck. It kicked out in fright and the other deer bolted a few feet away.

  Tuomas reeled himself closer to the bull, letting it become used to his presence. It stared at him with huge black eyes, snorting indignantly. When it realised it couldn’t escape, it calmed down, and he began to lead it back along the trail of footprints he had left.

  When he reached the edge of the forest, he paused for a moment and looked down upon Akerfjorden. It always seemed smaller from up here, dwarfed by the high cliffs of the Mustafjord.

  The giant stone walls reared on either side, glazed with ice. At the back, where he stood now, the ground rolled upwards in a soft incline, bound in place by trees older than the oldest villager. The huts squatted in their little clusters, dusted white with frost and snow; on the outskirts, storage houses stood on thick stilts to keep their precious bounty of food and tools off the ground. Fire pits sat here and there; wooden frames hung by them, draped with strips of fish and reindeer meat left to dry in the heat. It was a perfect location for a winter camp: protected from the wind, close to water, with a stock of wood to last the entire Long Dark.

  Tuomas made his way down, leading the bull in his wake. The village was awake now, many of his neighbours already outside. Some were going about the morning chores: carrying logs from the woodstores or fetching clean virgin snow to melt into water. But most were waiting for him.

  Their faces were tight with apprehension – no doubt, they were remembering the previous evening, when he had pulled Mihka away from the Lights. The only one who had managed to free him.

  And now it was up to him, setting out alone, to bring the life-soul back.

  He wasn’t surprised that news had spread so quickly about Mihka’s condition. In such a small community as this, everyone knew everybody else’s business. Just one glance at his neighbours told Tuomas they were aware of what was going on.

  A knot of nerves began to grow in his belly, but he forced himself to ignore it. There would be time to dwell on his task later. Now, he needed to be strong.

  A figure approached him. In the dim glow of a nearby fire, Tuomas recognised it as Aslak: the herder who had fetched Paavo the night before. He was hauling a sleigh behind him, the seat already covered with a warm reindeer pelt.

  Tuomas smiled gratefully. It was his and Paavo’s sleigh, which had borne them both across the Northlands on every migration he could remember. Aslak must have dragged it out from behind their hut while he had gone into the forest.

  “Give me a hand with this,” Aslak said.

  Tuomas led his reindeer into position, then he and Aslak hitched the long birch poles at the front of the sleigh to a harness around the animal’s chest. They had no sooner finished when the other villagers came forward and began depositing goods into the back. There were reindeer skins, new fish hooks, food parcels, arrows, a pair of skis, and the poles and tarp for building a tent.

  Tuomas thanked them all graciously, and they answered with smiles and handshakes. Then the crowd parted and revealed the three Akerfjorden leaders: Anssi, his cousin Maiken, and Sisu. Beside them was Henrik, dressed from head to toe in his white mage furs. He was clutching a bundle under one arm.

  Tuomas lowered his head respectfully as he walked closer.

  “You can do this, boy,” Henrik said, his usually deep voice now soft and reassuring. “You have the makings of a great mage in you. Don’t be afraid to ask the Spirits for help. They will guide you.”

  Tuomas bit his lip. He wasn’t sure how open the Spirits would be to him after knowing one of their own had been insulted.

  Henrik seemed to read his mind.

  “Show them respect and they will respond in kind,” he whispered. “You know yourself; few Spirits are as feared as the one we saw yesterday.”

  “That doesn’t help much,” Tuomas admitted.

  Henrik grimaced. “I know. I won’t tell you to not be afraid. But you know this land – it is your home, your heart.”

  He pushed the bundle into Tuomas’s arms. “Here. You haven’t made your own yet, and you will need one.”

  Tuomas frowned. He untied the cord at the top and let the soft skin parcel fall away. A gasp caught in his throat.

  It was Henrik’s drum.

  “No, this belongs with you,” he said, going to give it back, but Henrik stood firm.

  “I’ll keep myself busy watching over Mihka and make another.”

  “But what about your taika?”

  “Still not listening, I see. It will cross over to a new one. Drums can be passed on, just not destroyed. Remember that.”

  “But it’s personal. Sacred to a mage!”

  “Yes, a mage. As you will hopefully be before this is over. And you will need it. It’s vital that you channel your power and stay in control of it – this is the best way to do that. Just always remember to cast a protective circle around yourself before you start to work; it will keep you from harm and trickery. I hope that if there’s only one of my lessons you listened to, it was that one!”

  Henrik kept his hands behind his back so Tuomas couldn’t force the drum back into them.

  Disbelief stabbed at him. Hadn’t it been only yesterday that they had argued about him not having his own? And now Henrik was handing over the one he’d carried since his own youth? That alone was enough to set a new wave of anxiety racing.

  Tuomas had never struck a drum in his life, and now he had to take one with him? This one?

  He opened his mouth to protest again, but Henrik cut him off.

  “Head north. Kari and Lil
ja were always in the opposite places to everyone else, and I suspect nothing has changed. Go over the Mustafjord and follow the treeline towards the tundra.”

  Grateful for something else to focus on, Tuomas nodded. He could deal with north. The further north you went, the less safety there was; and to venture too far, especially in winter, was ill-advised. On the one hand, it was stupid to travel during the Long Dark anyway, but on the other, everyone else would think the same. Wandering mages or not, this brother and sister would need to find shelter somewhere.

  Then he looked around, and realised someone was missing.

  “Where’s Paavo?”

  Maiken glanced at the other leaders, then back to Tuomas.

  “Was he with the herd when you went up there?” she asked.

  Tuomas shook his head. “No. Aslak, have you seen him?”

  “No. I’m sorry,” replied Aslak.

  Henrik leaned close to Tuomas and spoke in a whisper.

  “Don’t worry, he’s somewhere. But it’s a clear sky; you will have a cold journey. You must leave now and cover some ground before you make camp.”

  Tuomas’s stomach twisted. Going away was one thing, but without saying goodbye to Paavo? Where was he? Early riser or not, this was unlike him.

  But he knew Henrik was right. He couldn’t linger, for Mihka’s sake. The sooner he left, the sooner he would be home: a fully realised mage. And then he could tell Paavo all about it.

  That gave him new confidence, and the anxiety was finally quashed. He drew his shoulders back, grasped the reindeer’s harness and walked it to the edge of the village, facing out towards the frozen fjord. The sleigh’s runners left deep lines in the snow behind him. He climbed inside it and drew a thick fur blanket over his legs.

  Paavo’s fine, he told himself. He knows this place as well as anyone, and he’s not stupid. He probably just didn’t want to see you go.

  He jumped when Sisu appeared beside him, holding a freshly-lit torch. But he didn’t pass it over straightaway, instead extending his other hand. Stark against his grey mitten was a lock of white hair. Tuomas knew instantly it was from Mihka.

  “A token. Don’t forget who this is for,” Sisu said. His small eyes shone with unshed tears beneath the patterned brim of his hat.

  Tuomas bowed his head respectfully. He took the torch, then the hair, sealing it inside a small sealskin pouch at his belt. Now Mihka – and the importance of the journey – would be with him always.

  “I’ll be home before you know it,” he said. “Take care of yourselves. And give my love to Paavo.”

  “I will,” said Sisu. ““Go in peace.”

  “Stay in peace,” replied Tuomas.

  Before he could begin doubting himself, Tuomas held the rope in his spare hand and gave it a snap. The reindeer took off through the snow. Tuomas kept his eyes straight ahead as he sped along the ice of the Mustafjord, so he couldn’t look back and see the village shrinking into nothingness.

  Soon, all the cries of farewell disappeared, and he was alone. There was only the steady jingle of the reindeer’s bell to break the silence, and the silver face of the Moon Spirit staring down from the World Above.

  Chapter Four

  The sleigh moved slow and steady over of the frozen water. Rocks and trees flew by on the nearby shore, their branches crystallised in feathery ice.

  Tuomas regarded them as he passed. Soon the snow would fall so heavily, those same trees would bow under the weight of it, until they didn’t even look like trees anymore. At least some of the bark was still visible. By the time of the next full Moon, even that would be gone, hidden beneath laden branches.

  His attention strayed to the rocky walls of the headlands. The size of the Mustafjord always took his breath away. It was a huge beast, curling left and right, framed by high ridges and frosted cloudberry bushes, their precious golden bounty long gone. He knew he would have a small supply of them in his donated food parcels, along with other berries and wild mushrooms, but they were precious – he would save them.

  The midday twilight came and went. The faint glow stretched everywhere and yet left not a single shadow. The land briefly turned a soft violet, then blue, and then darkness fell once again. A wisp of cloud drifted across the Moon Spirit.

  Tuomas felt his eyelids beginning to droop, and the reindeer was slowing. It was time to stop.

  He was still on the fjord, but the banks were high and rocky – there was no way he would be able to scale them. But he spotted a cluster of trees sticking out from the shore on a small lip of earth. It wasn’t much, but it would do for a few hours’ sleep.

  He hopped out of the sleigh and unhitched the reindeer from the poles. Then he took the animal by the harness, guiding it off the ice and into the thin birches. He was at the edge of the forest here; it would provide a little shelter from the open expanse of the fjord, and gave enough space for a fire to breathe without leaving them too exposed.

  He took the long poles from the back of the sleigh and stuck them deep into the snow, binding them together at the top with rope. Then he draped the reindeer skin tarp around them, securing it where he could, leaving a smoke hole in the middle. Once his shelter was up, he threw some furs onto the floor.

  He cut down a small birch sapling, thanking the little souls inside for their sacrifice, and made quick work of it, chopping it with an axe. He imagined the life-soul drifting up in the arms of the Spirit of Passage, going to rest in the other Worlds before it returned to a new body. It could be a mosquito, a wolverine, another tree, or perhaps a human child. None were more important than the others: they were all alive, all relying on their neighbours in nature to survive.

  He held his torch to the bark, and soon a fire was burning in the centre of the tent. It didn’t take long to make dinner: carving flakes off some dried reindeer meat and letting them stew in water melted from the snow. Then he brewed himself some herbal tea and rested his back against one of the sturdy poles, lifting the food to his mouth on the blade of his knife.

  It suddenly struck him how alone he was. Being in his own company was nothing new, but it was always with the knowledge that a neighbour was close by. Even on the herd migrations, when the entire village slept in shelters like this for weeks at a time, the community remained together.

  Akerfjorden, as a place, wasn’t home. Its people were home. And without them, Tuomas felt like a tiny speck on the surface of the huge white World.

  To distract himself, he recalled an old fireside story: the legend of how their winter settlement came to be. Generations ago, a powerful man known only as the Great Mage had lived. His name was lost to time, but everyone knew his story, and held it as close to their hearts as any event within living memory.

  He’d led the ancestors out of the north, across tundra and through forests, to where the Sun Spirit would return her glow first after the Long Dark. But he died less than a mile from his destination; fallen through the ice underfoot and never resurfaced. Those who had followed him claimed they had seen the white fox of the aurora sweep down and pull his life-soul out of his chest. They said she had taken it back into the World Above, filling the fjord with her Lights. The story varied about whether that had been the event which made him drown, but from that moment on, the villagers of Akerfjorden had named the Mustafjord in his memory: The Black Water.

  A shiver ran down Tuomas’s spine. That was the best story he could have thought of for comfort?

  As a youngster, it had been one of his favourites. When the old women told it, he would shuffle close and soak up every word, imagining the tale playing out in the shadows cast by the fire. It was exciting; an adventure, unlike anything to be found in the monotony of Akerfjorden. A legend of Spirits and mages, and of two celestial children, swapped between night and day in the formless World Above.

  Now, it left him cold, with a bitter taste in his mouth. His imagination lingered on the image of the Lights tearing out the Great Mage’s life-soul, then shifted to memory: Mihka hanging the
re in her freezing grasp…

  Suddenly restless, he put down his half-eaten meal, crawled out of the shelter took a huge lungful of air. The temperature had plummeted since he had made camp, and the hair inside his nostrils froze with each inhale. His reindeer was nowhere to be seen, but he could hear it: bell tingling as it foraged for food. It wouldn’t go far.

  He trudged over to the sleigh and started to draw the tarp over it. He had left some of his belongings inside – there was no point unpacking everything when he was setting off again in a few hours. But it was better to cover them in case snow fell during the night.

  Then his eyes settled on the bundle Henrik had given him. He pulled the drum closer and drew back its covering.

  It truly was a beautiful thing: as wide as the span of both his hands, carved from a circular birch frame with reindeer skin stretched taught across its mouth. The skin was painted with a lifetime of symbols, the head of the Great Bear Spirit sitting in the centre. Henrik had made and decorated this himself, to showcase his individual powers, and harness the heartbeat of the earth.

  How would Tuomas paint his own drum, when he made it? There would be images of himself and Paavo; that much was for sure. And of their parents. Tuomas had never known them, but they had given him life, and that was something to revere.

  He imagined beating the drum before a roaring fire, singing to the Spirits, passing down stories and histories to the next generation. There would be tales of ancient wicked mages who wore other people’s skin to trick them; of ones able to walk through flames to travel miles in seconds, or weaving illusions out of snow or shifting light. Henrik used to do that when he was younger, to entertain the children, but as age bent his back and stiffened his joints, he’d limited himself to only what was necessary.

  That was why he needed an apprentice. And Tuomas had been so eager to fill that place.

  He noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. The sky began to tremble and dance, and a green curtain swam into life.