The Winter Spirits

by E. C. Hibbs

  Tuomas turned away, instinct getting the better of him. But as soon as he did, his heart burned with rage.

  There she was, right there, above him: the Spirit who had swept down and stolen Mihka’s life-soul.

  The drum was still in his lap. He ran a hand over it, feeling the smoothness of the skin and raised edges of the dried alder paint against his palm.

  A thought struck him. Why should he have to wait to find those two mages? If he was the one who needed to appease the Spirit of the Lights, then why not just do it? Wasn’t it enough of a test to see poor Mihka’s white hair and pale face?

  He didn’t pause to wonder if it was a bad idea.

  He rushed to the shelter and held the drum over the fire, as Henrik had taught him to do. Then he came back outside and ran onto the ice, so the black sky and green Lights stretched all around him. Then he spun a circle of protection, raised the hammer, and struck the skin.

  The sound vibrated through him; so strong, he almost fell to his knees. But he stood his ground and hit it again, finding a rhythm, riding it like a kayak in a stormy sea. An angry chant poured from his throat, deep and guttural, and he willed himself to rise up, out of his body. Up, into the World Above, where he could see the Spirit and demand an explanation; ask her what she needed for her appeasement.

  Why did she have to be so arrogant, so easily offended? Why should she be feared? By what right did she snatch away the soul of a fifteen-year-old boy?

  He knew this wasn’t the way to connect with a Spirit, but he didn’t care. He wanted her to feel his fury.

  He let himself float higher, imagining himself leaving the earth, charging into the sky like an enraged bear. The drum’s beat swallowed him, surrounded him in its thunder.

  He grew heavy. He went to fight against it, but it felt right, to let out how much he resented everything that had happened. Mihka did not deserve this, nobody deserved this…

  His chant transformed into a furious scream. He drew his taika down, pulling it towards his core. This was not like anything Henrik had described. He had never felt anything like this, but it was so perfect, so strong…

  Another scream joined his: shrill, otherworldly. Then he ran out of breath and collapsed on all fours.

  He sat up, and fright froze him to the spot.

  The sky was as clear and dark as it had been before. All traces of green were gone. But lying by the entrance of his tent was a figure: slender as a sapling, completely white, clad in fabric which seemed to be made from starlight itself.

  It rolled over and revealed a thin feminine face. Two large pointed ears, like a fox’s, protruded from long hair as colourless as the snow.

  She looked straight at him. Her irises were the raging hues of the aurora.

  Tuomas’s heart thundered. He couldn’t move. He glanced between the drum and the girl, unable to believe his eyes.

  She leapt to her feet and flew at him. He recoiled in panic, throwing up his arms to protect himself.

  She paused inches from his face, blocked by the circle he had cast. But that invisible barrier, thinner than birch bark, didn’t fill him with any confidence and he trembled like a terrified child.

  What had he done?

  “How dare you!” the girl shouted. “Put me back!”

  Tuomas stared at her, too scared to move. She bared her teeth and her eyes shone red: the same colour as when the Lights had struck Mihka.

  “Return me to the sky!” she demanded. “Now!”

  Her ferocity shocked him into action. He hit the drum desperately, striking out a tuneless beat. But his hands trembled so much, he dropped the hammer.

  The girl snarled. “A fine mage you are trying to be! Put me back!”

  “I… I can’t!” Tuomas stammered. “I’m not a mage yet…”

  “You brought me down here! You put me back!”

  “Please, I can’t!”

  She locked eyes with him. The redness blazed across her face, throwing strange shadows onto cheekbones which might have been chiselled from ice. Everything about her spoke of coldness, control, authority. The longer she glared, the more Tuomas’s fear grew.

  “You summon a Spirit – confine a Spirit – and do not even know what you did?” she said incredulously. “You should have the power!”

  Tuomas frowned.

  “What? But I told you… I’m still training!”

  “But you should know!”

  There was a swooping motion behind her, and Tuomas noticed for the first time that a bushy white tail had appeared from beneath her skirt. He regarded her ears again, and realisation gripped him.

  Fox fires.

  Somehow, he had trapped that very Spirit in human form.

  “It was you…” he muttered. “You took Mihka’s life-soul!”

  The Spirit didn’t even blink. “He insulted me.”

  Tuomas was tempted to yell, but held it back. Anger had brought this furious entity down from the World Above. She only looked the same age as him, but he knew that was in appearance only. This being was older than the mountains, colder than the deepest frozen sea. She was one of the most feared and revered of them all.

  Henrik had said, mere hours ago, to respect Spirits and they would respond in kind. He hoped with all his might that the old mage’s words were true.

  “He was just being stupid,” he said carefully. “Return the life-soul to him. Please.”

  Her frosty expression didn’t change.

  “That is not possible for the time being. Because of you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You ripped me out of the World Above, you fool! How am I supposed to do anything down here?”

  She regarded her body with disgust.

  Tuomas thought quickly. He’d never even thought something like this was possible, least of all by him. But the deed was done now, and he needed to appease her. If he returned her to the World Above, surely she would grant his request.

  He let out a shaking breath.

  “I’m on my way north to find the wandering mage siblings. Kari and Lilja. They’ll be able to help you more than me. They… they can put you back.”

  The girl glowered at him.

  “You are the one who owes me a debt. You interrupted me from punishing that insolent boy.”

  Tuomas gritted his teeth.

  “He didn’t mean anything by it!”

  “Is that so? You heard his insults as well as I did.”

  “That’s honestly your excuse for stripping him of his life-soul?”

  Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

  Tuomas took a step back. She might not have spoken, but her threat was real, and he couldn’t allow himself to forget it.

  No matter she was in a physical body; she could crush him under her foot like a snowflake if she wanted. And the circle might be protecting him now, but he wouldn’t be able to stay inside it forever.

  “Please,” he said, not caring about the frightened croak creeping back into his voice. He held up his hands, trying to placate her. “Please, why don’t you come with me, to the mages? They can help us both. And if I owe you a debt, the least I can do is get you home.”

  The Spirit regarded him with a cold glare. “Brave words.”

  Tuomas looked at her imploringly.

  “I’m sorry. Honestly, I am. I didn’t mean to do this to you… I only wanted to talk.”

  “You wanted to demand, without thought of the consequences.”

  “When this is done, you can take whatever you want from me. Just let my friend have his life-soul back.”

  The girl stayed where she stood. Her face was unreadable.

  It was then that Tuomas realised she was actually standing on top of the snow, as though she weighed no more than a feather. There weren’t even any prints behind her from when she had run towards him.

  “Very well,” she said coolly. “I will come with you. But only when I am back in the World Above can I grant your request.”

  Tuomas swallowed his nerve
s. He didn’t want to have her with him any longer than necessary. For as respectful as he tried to keep himself, he couldn’t hold back a shiver of fear.

  “Please, don’t hurt me,” he said.

  She didn’t reply except to flick her tail back and forth.

  Realising he wouldn’t get a moment of sleep now, Tuomas inched past her, and felt the protective circle dissipate as he stepped outside it.

  He eyed her warily, expecting her to attack again, but she didn’t. He let out a relieved sigh and pulled the tarp off the tent, then kicked snow over the fire to extinguish it.

  A short time later, the entire shelter was collapsed and heaped back into the sleigh. He fetched his reindeer from the trees and tied it to the poles with trembling fingers. Finally, he picked Henrik’s drum out of the snow and strapped it around his waist with a leather rope: the same he had seen his mentor do all his life.

  The Spirit watched in silence. Tuomas threw her a wary look before taking the harness and guiding the reindeer forward. Only when the sled began to move did she follow, walking so softly that Tuomas might have forgotten she was behind him, were it not for the feeling of her ethereal eyes boring into the back of his head.

  Chapter Five

  The miles fell behind them as they followed the unkempt forest trails where the trees stood a little further apart. The runners of the sleigh snagged on roots, and on a few occasions, Tuomas had to hack them free with his axe. It was difficult to see in the darkness, but soon enough, the faint blue glow of faraway daylight seeped across the snow. It wasn’t much to work by, but he was grateful for it.

  He heard a faint groan and turned to look at the Spirit. She was leaning against a frost-caked tree, her eyes screwed shut.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked, as respectfully as he could.

  On the tree, her fingers curled into a fist. Even that gesture, full of discomfort and irritation, remained as graceful as her dancing Lights.

  Realising she wasn’t going to reply, Tuomas released the reindeer harness and approached her.

  At the sound of his footsteps, she opened her eyes and glared at him. Their colour bounced between striking green and blood red.

  That was warning enough to not come closer. He stopped in mid-step, but didn’t look away from her. What was wrong? She seemed weakened, as though if she took another step she would stumble.

  His gaze strayed to the faint blue of the snow, and an idea struck him. Even though it was the Long Dark, the Sun Spirit was still close enough to throw a little light over the land. And the aurora was a thing of the night.

  “Is it the light?” he asked softly.

  The Spirit still didn’t answer.

  Tuomas wrestled with himself. He knew he was right, and she wasn’t going to move another step until the true night returned. But there was no time for this.

  “Spirits forgive me, I’m truly sorry,” he muttered, then stepped forward and picked her up.

  Even though she weighed nothing, the girl went as stiff as a board.

  “Release me!” she snapped. Her ears drew flat against her scalp.

  Tuomas hurried to the sleigh, kicked a food parcel out of the way, and set her on the seat. As soon as she was inside, she raised a hand. It glowed a threatening bright green.

  “How dare you!” she snarled.

  “I was only trying to help,” he protested. “If you put the blanket over yourself, it will keep the light away. I’ll let you know when it’s dark again.”

  “I will know when it is dark,” she said pointedly, but nevertheless lowered her hand and laid the blanket across her legs.

  Relieved she had taken his advice – and not ripped his own life-soul away – Tuomas returned to the reindeer and continued the trail. Once they were on a straighter part of the path, he glanced back over his shoulder.

  “Forgive me for asking this,” he said, “but is there a name I can call you?”

  The girl looked startled – even a little upset. But before Tuomas could question her, she pressed her lips together and turned her face away, her expression stoic once more.

  “That’s fine,” he said, trying not to sound frustrated. “I’m called Tuomas.”

  “No, you are not.”

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  But there was no answer. She simply drew the blanket up over her head.

  Tuomas gritted his teeth and trudged on in silence, his shoes sinking into the soft snow. It was powdery and crisp, falling off him as soon as he moved. The freezing air made it too cold to be wet, to cling to anything. He considered fetching his skis, but that would mean going over to the sleigh – to the Spirit – so he decided against it.

  The dim light grew until it transformed the land into a blanket of cold pastel blue. Despite being surrounded by the trees, it seemed brighter to Tuomas now than when he had been in Akerfjorden. He fancied that, just below the horizon line, the Golden One was lingering, as close as she could come to them in the Long Dark.

  He tried to keep his attention on the trail, but every now and then, he glanced at the sleigh. The Spirit was still covered by the blanket, so motionless, she seemed barely alive.

  He wondered if she was even alive, really. Was a Spirit a living thing? Looking at her like this, hidden by fabric, he could almost imagine that figure was the outline of his food parcels and rolled-up hides. Might it be that he’d imagined it all?

  He heaved a long sigh and looked away. There was no use in pretending. She was there. And Mihka still needed the wandering mages.

  He could kick himself. This little escapade was going to cost his friend valuable time. What if the Spirit was lying about returning Mihka’s life-soul? What if she refused, in retaliation for this second insult? What if she decided the debt should be paid by carrying Tuomas himself away with her? She had already threatened to, in all but words.

  He shuddered. What had he done? How could he have been so stupid?

  As quickly as it appeared, the twilight began to fade. Tuomas gave a tug on the reindeer’s harness to make it stop, and then pulled his torch from the edge of the sleigh. He uttered a silent thanks for thinking to store it there; it was the furthest corner away from the Spirit. He wrapped wool around the end, laced with dried grass and fragments of birch bark, and struck some flint. A flame flickered into life, and he pressed on again, torch in hand, keeping his eyes peeled for somewhere to make camp.

  “It’s dark now,” he said quietly.

  She didn’t respond.

  They moved down a small slope and came to the bend of a river, long frozen over. A thin layer of snow covered it, crowned with a sheen of hoar frost.

  Tuomas scanned the far bank. There was a clearing between the birches, just large enough to take the sleigh and tent.

  He made the reindeer stop, and edged forward, placing one foot on the ice to test it. It groaned a little, but took his weight. He jumped up and down to be sure – it still held him. Before his nerves could fail him, he seized the harness and hurried the reindeer across.

  When they reached the other side, he unhitched the animal and it wandered to the edge of the trees, beginning to paw at the ground in search of moss. Tuomas stuck the torch into the snow and tugged his mitten off with his teeth. He wiped at his brow, letting out a weary groan. He supposed they had managed just over ten miles since his last camp.

  There was a snap of fabric behind him as the Spirit threw back the blanket.

  “How are you?” Tuomas asked in a small voice.

  She glared at him, but kept her mouth shut.

  Deciding better than to press her, Tuomas dragged the tent poles out of the sleigh. The Spirit shuffled indignantly as they knocked against her. He muttered an apology, then positioned one of the poles, ready to drive it into the snow to form the first part of a shelter.

  He caught a movement in the corner of his eye. The reindeer’s head had shot up, its ears erect.

  Reindeer had better senses than any man. Something was coming.

&n
bsp; Tuomas snatched the torch and held it before him. The snow muted sounds, but there was still just enough light to see by if he looked carefully. He stood still, straining to pick up on something, anything.

  Then he heard a low growl to the left. The reindeer snorted in alarm. Tuomas spun around, and fought back a wave of panic.

  A wolf was standing there. And as soon as he noticed it, more began looming out of the shadows.

  There were only three of them, but that didn’t bring Tuomas any comfort. Just one would have been able to bring down his reindeer. A trio would likely kill them all.

  He knew better than to flee. That would only awaken the chase in the beasts – they would run him down in no time. The only chance was to stand his ground, use the torch, and make a scene; try to convince them he wasn’t worth the effort.

  But his reindeer wouldn’t think that way. He could tell by its agitated movements that it was going to bolt at any moment.

  “Spirit, please calm him,” he begged, trying to keep his voice from wavering. “If he runs, it’s the end for all of us.”

  He heard the creak of the sleigh as she slid out of it, then she appeared in his peripheral vision, laying one white hand on the reindeer’s neck. It didn’t look much calmer, but stood still, and that was an improvement he was willing to take.

  One of the wolves approached, lips peeling back to expose its ferocious teeth. Tuomas waved the torch at it threateningly.

  “Get away!” he snapped.

  The wolf snarled harder, its eyes gleaming.

  Tuomas had never been more grateful for a torch. Fire was the one thing wolves were afraid of. But he still cursed himself for leaving his bow and arrows in the sleigh. Why had he been walking with the drum strapped to his belt instead of those? He was an idiot, and now his stupidity might have cost them everything.

  One of the other wolves lunged at the reindeer. It bellowed in alarm, kicking out with its hind legs. The third one went for the Spirit.

  Tuomas drew his largest knife and threw it. It grazed the wolf’s shoulder, then thudded into the snow at its feet. It growled in pain, but resumed its attack.

  The reindeer squealed in terror as the wolf harrowed it. The sound tore at Tuomas’s ears. He had marked that one himself just a few years ago, as he had marked its mother. The reindeer were dearer than most of his possessions. And now this one was in danger.