The Winter Spirits

by E. C. Hibbs

  A wave of anger surged through his blood. He leapt forward and swung the torch, smashing the flaming end into the wolf’s muzzle. It yelped and fell back.

  Tuomas let out a sharp laugh of triumph.

  “Get away!” he yelled, brandishing the torch even harder.

  The wolf growled again, but it was definitely cowed. He sprang at it again to show his strength. Then, before he could doubt himself, he edged towards the reindeer and the Spirit, lashing out at the other wolves.

  But as soon as he turned his back, the first one reappeared and threw itself at him.

  The Spirit thrust her hands at the wolf and caught it in its narrow chest. A burst of spectral light burned into Tuomas’s eyes.

  He turned away with a startled yelp. It was as though he had looked straight into the Sun. Strange shapes danced behind his lids; his balance spun and his heart thrummed in his ears. When he eased his eyes open, he was shocked to see the wolf had been hurled back towards the trees by the blast. It lay in a heap, knocked unconscious.

  He stared at the Spirit.

  “What was that? What did you do?”

  Before she could answer, a shockwave flew past him, like a gust of fierce wind. It hit one of the other wolves and flung it onto its side. The last wolf let out a whine of defeat and the two of them ran off across the frozen river, disappearing into the trees.

  Tuomas turned to the Spirit. “Are you alright?”

  She nodded as though nothing had happened, and softly patted the reindeer, trying to calm it down.

  Tuomas held the torch aloft and crept in the direction the wave had come from.

  “Who’s there?” he called. “Show yourself!”

  For several long moments, nothing happened. After what felt like the entire winter, he saw movement among the black trees. A figure walked closer, shouldering a bow in mid-stride.

  It stepped into the glow of the torch, revealing a short stout woman, a freshly-shot ptarmigan hanging by its feathered feet from a rope around her chest. She wore a coat of reindeer fur, the body tan and the sleeves pure white, bound at the waist by a thick belt intricately woven with coloured fibres and beads. It was unlike any clothing in Akerfjorden. Tuomas recognised some the patterns as being from Poro village, up in the north, but there were others which he had never seen before. She must have added them herself.

  In her hand was a drum – Tuomas realised she must have struck it and sent the shockwave. Only a few mages were able to do that. Powerful ones.

  She scanned her eyes over him, then they shifted to the Spirit and widened in alarm. Even from this distance, Tuomas could see a twinge of fear in her face too.

  “White Fox One,” she gasped. “Is that your doing, boy?”

  Tuomas hesitated. He doubted he would have trusted Paavo with what he had done, let alone a stranger.

  “Who are you?” he demanded.

  She looked him up and down again before answering.

  “My name is Lilja.”

  Chapter Six

  “You’re Lilja?” Tuomas asked.

  The woman nodded.

  “I heard a commotion and came to see what the matter was. Those greylegs have been creeping about for a few days.”

  She paused, glancing critically at him.

  “You don’t look as though you’re in any fit state to have fought them off, either. When was the last time you slept?”

  Despite his relief, Tuomas couldn’t help but feel like a chastised child.

  “It’s complicated,” he said in the end.

  “So I see,” Lilja remarked, throwing a pointed look at the Spirit. “So this is your doing?”

  “It was an accident,” Tuomas hissed.

  “There are no accidents,” she replied. Her eyes lingered on the Spirit; her shock barely hidden. “Daughter of the Moon?”

  The Spirit drew her shoulders back with pride. “I know of you too, Lilja Bear-Mage.”

  Lilja bowed her head low. After a few moments, she straightened up and walked towards Tuomas.

  “Alright, come with me. My camp isn’t far.”

  Tuomas approached the reindeer, grasping the poles of the sleigh and dragging it closer in mid-step. He was about to bind it into place when Lilja slapped his hands away.

  “No, I’ll do this. You get in. Best to move quickly, and you’re tired.”

  Tuomas threw a nervous glance at the Spirit.

  “I… It’s fine. I’ll walk with you,” he said.

  “No, you won’t.”

  Lilja didn’t even turn around. She tied the staves and then looped a lasso around the reindeer’s neck.

  “I said get in. Both of you.”

  The Spirit’s eyes flashed an angry red.

  “You speak to all of my kind this way?”

  “Forgive me, but with all due respect, you’re not in the World Above right now,” Lilja said. “The quicker we move, the quicker we can sort this out.”

  Tuomas was taken aback. The Spirit had a point. He doubted Henrik would be so blunt with one such as her. But Lilja seemed different, almost careless. Was she honestly so confident that she would risk an insult, however veiled? If a flippant criticism was worthy of having a life-soul ripped away, he hated to think what sarcasm might invoke.

  To his surprise, however, the Spirit didn’t respond, and climbed into the sleigh. He stepped in beside her and sat down, painfully aware of how close they were. He threw her a cagy glance before covering his legs with the blanket. He didn’t bother asking if she wanted to get under it too.

  She might not have risen to Lilja’s comments now, but maybe that was simply because she was trapped in human form. Would she be so restrained once she was back in the sky?

  Lilja gave the lasso a tug and urged the reindeer on. The sleigh jolted forwards, then settled into a gentle slide as they moved back under the cover of the spindly trees.

  Suddenly aware of how exhausted he was, Tuomas let his head roll back onto one of his skis. The hard edge dug into his neck, but he didn’t care. The last thing he saw was the night sky, before it swarmed its darkness around him and pulled him down into a deep sleep.

  When he opened his eyes, he immediately looked at the Spirit. She was still facing away from him, legs pulled up to her chest. At first glance, he wasn’t sure if she was even breathing. But then she turned her eyes on him. Their black depths were edged with a fine hint of turquoise.

  “How long was I asleep?” he asked.

  As he expected, she didn’t reply, so he instead looked at the sky. The stars had moved, and he used that to judge. A little over an hour.

  “I thought you said your camp was nearby?” he called to Lilja.

  She didn’t look at him; just carried on walking beside the reindeer.

  “It is. We’re almost there,” she replied. “I was out hunting when I heard you. That’s how I got to you so quickly. No prey comes that close to a shelter.”

  Tuomas glanced at the ptarmigan she was carrying. The only time one of those had actually come to him, rather than him pursuing it, was a few years ago. He and Paavo had pitched a tent while hunting, which unbeknownst to them, had been in the middle of an aggressive male ptarmigan’s territory. It had harassed them and snapped at them with its peculiar yelping call, which was only silenced when Paavo took a shot at it.

  Akerfjorden had eaten well that night. Any food during winter was not to be refused, especially when it practically offered itself to them.

  Tuomas smiled at the memory, but it soon dimmed as he recalled Paavo’s face. Already he was missing his brother. Was Paavo feeling as bad about not saying goodbye as Tuomas was?

  Don’t fret, he told himself. You’ll be back before you know it. Then you can tease him about it all until the end of the Long Dark.

  He moved his attention to the surroundings. Tree boughs were laden with snow, and every now and then, there was a muted thump as a pile of it slid free and fell. The white ground around the roots was untouched; no wolverines or moose had come by her
e. There was only the single line of footprints which Lilja had left when she had come in search of them, which they were now following back.

  They broke free of the trees and entered a small clearing. Small shrubs poked their thin branches through the snow, spindly edges glistening with tiny icicles. In the centre of the glade was a tent, a sleigh parked outside it with a sheet covering its cargo. The flap of the shelter was closed, but the welcoming orange glow of a fire lit up the hide tarp from within.

  Lilja drew Tuomas’s sleigh alongside her own and released his reindeer. It immediately trotted over to where her own two were grazing, and joined them in nibbling at the white lichen they had uncovered beneath the snow.

  Tuomas tied a rope around a tree, then attached it to his reindeer’s harness. None of them would stray far with wolves in the area, but Lilja had also tethered her animals – neither of them was willing to take any chances. At least this way, if any greylegs came back, the animals would be close enough to defend easily.

  Lilja headed for the tent and he followed her. He hesitated at the entrance, waiting for the Spirit to come too, but she remained seated in the sleigh, her eyes turned to the sky.

  For the first time, Tuomas’s wariness of her subsided into a wave of pity. He had been so angry with her for stripping Mihka’s life-soul away – but he had done the equivalent to her. In a fit of rage, he had torn her from her home in the World Above, and trapped her.

  Biting his lip guiltily, he ducked through the flap and let it fall shut behind him.

  Lilja had her back to him as she hung her ptarmigan on one of the tent’s beams to pluck and clean later. Then she took another piece of meat from beside it, freshly skinned and gutted. Tuomas could tell from the shape of it that it was a hare.

  Without a word, she skewered it and placed it over the fire. Blood dripped from the punctures and sizzled as it hit the warmed hearth stones. She turned it occasionally to seal it, then left it to cook through, before hoisting a pot of water close to the flames to boil. When it began to bubble, she threw in some herbs.

  The delicious aromas of simmering nettle filled the air and made Tuomas’s stomach rumble. He realised how little he had eaten since leaving Akerfjorden. He had barely managed half of his last meal before he had rushed outside and summoned the Spirit.

  He looked at Lilja across the fire.

  “I was sent to look for you.”

  “And you found me. Or, should that be, I found you?”

  She stirred the tea with a ladle made from the carved shinbone of a reindeer. The craftsmanship in it was extraordinary – Tuomas guessed she had a lot of free time to create, as practically every single one of her belongings was decorated in some way.

  “You and your brother, Kari,” he carried on. “Where is he?”

  Lilja stiffened. “Gone.”

  “What do you mean? He’s dead?”

  “Gone.”

  Lilja threw him a harsh glance which told him not to press further. Then she laid her bow and drum behind her, pulled her hat off and shrugged out of her coat, revealing a bright tunic woven about the cuffs and hem with intricate patterns. Like the coat, they were different from the ones he had seen on clothes in Akerfjorden, but equally as beautiful. Now he could get a good look, he recognised the patterns. They were in the shape of a reindeer, its antlers rising in glorious splendour. She was definitely from Poro. Or, she had been, once.

  Like Sisu had said, she was in her late twenties, a couple of years older than Paavo. That was old enough to be a woman, of course; to be married and have children. But she looked as though she had no intention of doing either of those things. Tuomas had never seen anyone who seemed so content in their own company. She moved with the subtle confidence of knowing herself and surroundings perfectly, and when she spoke, her voice crackled, as though she hadn’t used it in a while.

  Her hair was a fine sandy blonde, woven into two long braids which tumbled over her shoulders. A pair of brilliant blue eyes sat quite far apart in her face. Just visible under the neckline of her tunic was a long scar. It reached across her throat from left to right, and the flesh had a pinkish tinge; it hadn’t long healed over. She noticed him staring and quickly tugged her collar up to cover it.

  Tuomas frowned. What could have caused a wound like that?

  His eyes wandered the shelter, and found her drum, propped up against the side of the tent behind her. It was a little larger than Henrik’s, but decorated just as carefully, with an array of new spiralling symbols he hadn’t seen before. The Great Bear Spirit sat in the centre, as it did on all drums, but it was also painted to the side, hovering over the figure of a bedridden child. Opposite that was another child, this time standing alone in the middle of a lake. And in one corner there was a dark red mark, smeared clumsily, as though with the fingers. It looked like blood.

  Lilja made a deliberate clatter with the ladle against the pot.

  Snapped from his reverie, Tuomas watched as she poured two helpings of tea into cups made from hollowed burrs. She handed one to him and he drank gratefully, letting the welcomed warmth spread through his body.

  “So… why are you out here by yourself?” he asked.

  “I’m a wandering mage. The clue’s in the name,” she replied, idly turning the spit with one hand. She took a sip of her tea, then lowered the cup into her lap.

  “I was actually on my way to complete a very important errand. But then I saw the Lights strike the earth, and I knew I had to make a diversion. The way they behaved… we both know it wasn’t natural.”

  Tuomas lowered his eyes.

  “No. It wasn’t.”

  “But I wasn’t expecting to see what I did when I found you,” said Lilja. “The Spirit of the Lights, standing in a physical form. Bringing her into the World Between requires powerful taika. So, in that respect, I’m impressed. No wonder you tired so quickly.”

  He frowned, not sure whether to take that as a compliment.

  “I didn’t mean for it to happen. I was angry.”

  “Unchecked anger is dangerous. You need to harness it if you’re to be a mage. I take it you’re training to be one? I noticed your drum as much as you noticed mine.”

  She sounded so much like Henrik, Tuomas couldn’t suppress a half-smile.

  “I’m not off to a great start.”

  “All of us need to start somewhere,” said Lilja. “Anyway, it’s a good thing I ran into you. It means I no longer need to carry on with my errand.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve already found who I was looking for.”

  Tuomas set down his cup.

  “Me?”

  Lilja nodded. “I understand your alarm, but why do you look so angry, boy? Should I be worried? Are you going to chant me somewhere I don’t belong, too?”

  “No… I mean… I came out here because we need your help!” Tuomas cried. “Forget why you were looking for me! You have to come back to Akerfjorden!”

  “No,” she replied, cutting across him. “You’re more important than whatever is happening in Akerfjorden. I take it Henrik’s still alive and kicking? Any mage can sort reindeer problems, or illness, or whatever’s happening down there.”

  Tuomas shook his head at her flippant tone. “It’s nothing to do with the reindeer!” he insisted. “It’s serious! It’s the son of one of our leaders – my best friend!”

  “Who got exactly what he deserved.”

  Both of them looked around to see the Spirit standing at the entrance, holding back the flap in one hand. Her face was set in a cold mask of determination.

  “He and I have an agreement,” she said to Lilja. “He appears to be unable to put me back in the World Above. So you will do it. Now.”

  She turned her eyes on Tuomas. “And once I am back, I will spare your ignorant friend. Is that not what you wanted?”

  Without another word, she disappeared back into the snow.

  Lilja blew out her cheeks, then lifted the hare away from the hearth.
r />   “Well, I suppose dinner will have to wait,” she muttered.

  She grabbed her drum and held it over the fire. She moved almost idly, with none of the weight which Henrik would use – practically dangling the instrument on two fingers as though she didn’t care if it fell.

  But as soon as it drew near to the flames, Tuomas felt the air change. It became sharper, headier, swimming with untapped magic. He felt like he could have cut it with a knife. He sensed fresh summer flowers casting their scent on the air; the heathers of the tundra bursting into colour beneath the never-ending light of the Long Day; a sound of childish laughter on the banks of a lake.

  It was unlike anything he had sensed from Henrik. No matter how she acted, this mage was powerful.

  Lilja tucked the drum under her arm and crawled outside. Tuomas followed her, watched her beat out a protective circle with her antler hammer. She sat in the middle, drum cradled in her lap like a child, her eyes on the starry sky.

  Tuomas looked for the Spirit. She was standing beside the sleigh, staring intently at Lilja. Feeling his gaze, her eyes flickered to him.

  He had the sudden urge to look away, to break free of those inhuman colours which danced and reflected on her pale skin. But he didn’t. Somehow, however silently, he had to let her know he was sorry for what he had done.

  She continued looking at him. Then her features softened, as though she had read his thoughts.

  The drumbeats started. It was simple at first but gradually grew faster, adding in smaller beats that reverberated through the snow.

  Lilja began to chant.

  The sound poured from her like water. It was as though a new voice had taken over her – it sounded nothing like how she spoke. There were no words; just a stream of deep, rolling hums, echoing through the silent forest with a power which sent shivers down his spine.

  He marvelled at the taika gathering around them, swimming about his limbs and into his lungs. He felt his souls loosening inside his body, and strained to keep them close. He didn’t want to fall into a trance, not while the Spirit was still there.