by E. C. Hibbs
His breath fogged in front of his face.
“Are you cold?” he asked. After just one day of barely speaking, his voice crackled. He cleared his throat, trying to warm it up.
Lilja shrugged. “I’ve had it a lot colder out here.”
“Why are you all by yourself?”
“I’m not a people person,” she replied bluntly.
“That doesn’t explain not having a village.”
“I have everything I need to survive. Who cares if I only have two reindeer instead of a portion of a herd? They suit me just fine, and I can always trade.”
Tuomas noted how she had dodged the question. He turned his attention back to the hole.
“I’m sorry if I offended you last night,” he said.
“You didn’t. I told you, it takes hard work to offend me.”
“I don’t just mean when I was going to leave. I’m sorry about… the other stuff. I’m just curious, that’s all. If I’m going to be travelling with you, I’d like to get to know you.”
“So you can remember me fondly when you never see me again?” Lilja quipped.
Tuomas looked at her, then relaxed when he noticed a tiny smile at the corner of her mouth. In the dim light, it was hard to see, but it was there.
“I’m not used to this. Having to make conversation,” she admitted. “With my brother, I barely needed to speak at all. We could read each other in silence.”
Her eyes changed, staring into the distance at something only she could see. A strange wistfulness appeared on her face, and for a moment Tuomas thought she was going to cry. But then she took a deep sniff, swallowing down the emotion once more.
“How long have you been training to be a mage?” she asked.
Tuomas frowned. She had never questioned him about his own life.
“Uh… just over five months,” he said. “Henrik made me his apprentice on my fifteenth birthday. I was born on midsummer – he says that makes me powerful.”
“He’s right. It’s when the Sun Spirit is at the height of her strength.”
“How do you know Henrik, anyway?”
“I have been to Akerfjorden before,” said Lilja pointedly. “I’ve been to all the villages. But don’t change the subject. How are you managing with your lessons?”
“Not great,” he admitted. “Henrik’s more likely to send me to sleep than get me communing with Spirits.”
“And yet here you are.”
Lilja flicked her antler to check if a fish had taken the hook. Feeling none, she returned it to its position.
“Let me guess. You want to be a mage and feel important, but were hoping it would be more fun than whatever your teacher is giving you.”
Tuomas went to protest, but Lilja carried on.
“Don’t be upset. It’s the same story for most mages who thought it was what they wanted.”
“Who wouldn’t want it?” Tuomas said. “If you have the power, why not use it? It’s amazing.”
Lilja’s eyes darkened at his choice of words.
“Amazing can mean many things.”
“Well, it is,” he insisted. “Henrik just likes to talk. All I’ve had since we started is theory.”
“He’s an old man. Of course he likes to talk,” Lilja said. “And theory’s important, but I’m sure you’ve heard that enough from him.”
She checked her fishing line again. A tirade of emotions chased themselves across her face, as though she was trying to decide whether to say what she was thinking. Eventually, she gave in.
“I struggled too, in the early days.”
“Were you bored out of your mind too, never getting anywhere?” Tuomas asked.
“No. I was the complete opposite to you. You want to be a mage. I never did.”
Tuomas stared at her, his interest caught.
“Really?”
“Yes. Kari – my brother – was always the one who showed the most potential. Our father is a mage too, you see, in Poro village. That was where we were born, and he taught Kari when he became old enough. But one winter, when I was eleven, I fell sick, and I slept for weeks, caught somewhere between Worlds. And I was met by the Great Bear Spirit.
“It brought me back to life, let me awaken. My father and brother saw the shape of the Bear formed by the mist of my breath. So as soon as I could leave the hut, I started training alongside Kari, to harness my power – a power I never knew I had. I was the youngest mage in generations.”
Tuomas’s mouth fell open. The Great Bear Spirit was the strongest and most sacred force in nature; the embodiment of all who had gone before and all that would be. Communing with it was the ultimate dream of every mage. To have it come willingly to a dying girl and bring her back from the edge of the abyss… no wonder Lilja’s taika was so strong.
And, he supposed, no wonder she decided to keep to herself. With that amount of power inside her, and the legacy of being touched by the Bear, could anyone truly feel like they belonged with people anymore?
He recalled Henrik’s words about all mages being tested. That illness had been her challenge. Her will to fight it, even at that young age, must have been extraordinary to bring such a Spirit to her.
“Why didn’t you want it?” he asked in a small voice.
“Nobody wants to be so ill they’re expecting death, boy.”
“No, not that. I mean being a mage.”
“Not many people do,” said Lilja. “Some train hard, others have it thrust on them. Not everyone can bear it. They fail at their test and never recover. But if you make it… you live constantly in two. Not just with the physical and the unseen, but because everyone will come to rely on you and fear you equally. It’s certainly a lonely life, if not a fulfilling one. But in any case, it’s the path I walk, albeit in my own way.”
Tuomas fell silent for a moment. Would he be able to bear his test? If he failed, it wouldn’t be just himself who suffered. Mihka would be trapped in his purgatory, and poor Sisu’s heart would be destroyed.
His hand lingered over the pouch where the lock of white hair was hidden.
Ever since the summer, Henrik had been trying to tell him what Lilja had gotten across in moments. He realised how little he had truly listened – he hadn’t wanted to learn, not really. He’d just wanted to become a mage, with no true thought to everything needed to get there.
“Is that why you never stay in one place?” he asked, desperate for some distraction.
“Nobody stays in one place,” Lilja said. “Even you. Everyone leaves their villages for the migrations. And when you all go north, I go south. And vice-versa. It’s more peaceful that way.”
“But everyone comes back to their villages in the winter,” Tuomas pointed out.
“Each to their own,” she shrugged. “It’s not too fun when you never get a moment’s peace. People find out you’re linked to the Great Bear Spirit and you can kiss a normal life goodbye. I know wandering like I do isn’t too normal either, but it’s certainly quieter.”
She paused for a moment, contemplating something, then let out a loud sigh.
“The reason why I know Henrik is because I was with the Akerfjorden community fifteen years ago, on the Island of Anaar. The herds had been driven to the coast, and Kari and I were at the migration grounds to trade. That midsummer evening, I helped your mother when she gave birth to you.”
Tuomas froze.
“What?”
“She went into labour, and the Akerfjorden midwife had died not long before, so I heard. No midwives from the other villages were close enough. Henrik was sick and couldn’t do it himself. I was the only one with the knowledge. So my brother sang the birth protection chants while I delivered you. You were healthy, but your mother didn’t make it through. I’m sure you already knew that much.”
Tuomas didn’t know what to say. His heart felt as though it might burst out of his chest with shock.
“So that’s how you knew me?”
“Well, you have changed a little since t
hen,” Lilja said dryly. “But even when you were born, I knew you had power. I could sense it in you. I just didn’t see you grow into it. Kari and I left Anaar the next day. That was the last time I was even with your village.”
“Why didn’t you come back?”
Lilja hesitated.
“Because having too much power in one place rarely ends well.”
“You mean you and your brother? But you go all over the Northlands together.”
“And why do you think he’s not with me now?” The way she said it meant she clearly didn’t want an answer. “But no. It wasn’t a matter of two people. It was three.”
As she finished, she turned her eyes pointedly on him.
“Me?” he asked, incredulous. “But… Lilja, if someone like you, with the power of the Great Bear behind you, couldn’t put the Spirit back in the sky, then how am I supposed to do it?”
Lilja smirked. “Because you have something just as strong, boy.”
Tuomas frowned. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” she said, “that even when you were born, I knew your taika was powerful. When I found you a few days ago, I was on my way to Akerfjorden to fetch you. If Henrik hadn’t taken you on as an apprentice, then I would have.”
She suddenly reared back with an excited yelp and began reeling in her line. In a matter of seconds, she had pulled a fat grey char onto the ice. It flapped manically in an attempt to get free, but she pinned it down.
“Thank you, Lake Spirits,” she muttered. “And to you, fish brother.”
She struck it hard on the head with the butt of her antler. The char stilled, and Lilja tenderly laid a hand on its gills before setting it aside.
“We’ll eat well tonight,” she declared as she lowered her hook back into the water.
Tuomas wanted to ask her more, but one glance at her stony expression told him the conversation was over.
He supposed he should be grateful for the amount of information she had already divulged. But unease and curiosity gnawed at his belly, and his thoughts strayed back to the Spirit, her eyes blazing all the colours of the aurora.
Once again, he looked at his hands. Somehow, he had blocked her, withstood her attacks, and managed to pull her through the skin between Worlds. And now Lilja had admitted to journeying across the Northlands in the middle of winter, just to make sure he was being trained properly.
What was going on?
Chapter Nine
The next few chars they caught weren’t as large as the first, but Lilja rolled them all into a strip of sealskin and bundled it among her belongings to eat later. The fish would last them well out here, where any other prey would become scarcer by the day. Tuomas wasn’t even sure how many more opportunities there would be to fish. But Lilja seemed to know the terrain well, and if she was happy with what they had hauled in, he accepted it.
The hole she had hacked into the ice was already starting to freeze when they left. They carried on walking beside their reindeer, unwilling to get into the sleighs until they were on solid ground.
Tuomas had crossed enough frozen lakes to know not to put all the weight together. Spreading out was the best option for the ice to hold them. Moving across was rarely a straight line. There were areas where the ice was thinner, where you could easily fall through. The cold would bring death faster than you could shout for help.
He kept to the white ice, avoiding the grey patches as wide as he could. Those were newer; the freeze would only reach a few feet down. Every now and then, the entire sheet would groan like a huge monster. If Tuomas had still been a child, it might have frightened him. But he set his teeth and carried on, hand tight around the reindeer’s harness.
After what felt like an age, they finally reached the far bank. Lilja clambered up first, leaving room for him to follow, and they tied the sleighs back together before settling inside them. Tuomas covered his legs with the blanket and allowed Lilja to take the lead.
As they moved away, his eyes wandered to the blanket, and how the Spirit had hidden beneath it. Where was she now? Had she concealed herself somewhere while she was alone, to keep away from the dim light? Or perhaps she was even getting used to being in this World, and withstanding it more.
That did little to settle his mind. He knew she was probably nearby, tailing them like the spectral fox the ancestors once envisioned her as.
His hand wandered into the layers of hide next to him until he touched Henrik’s drum. Even through his mittens, he could feel the power of the painted symbols.
It was a different kind of magic to what he had sensed from the Spirit, or Henrik himself, or even from Lilja. It wasn’t as tight in the air; tasted different when he smacked his lips, like lingonberries ripened by the Sun Spirit at the height of summer.
He paused. Was this his power? His taika? Was this how it felt without anger driving it?
He hoped so. It was beautiful and warm, joyous to behold.
When the low light had once again given way to darkness, Lilja pulled the reindeer to a halt and they pitched camp for the night. Tuomas stayed outside, tying the animals to one of the tent poles. He made sure to gauge the wind direction, and settled them on the opposite side, so the shelter would block the worst of it. As he worked, the tapping of flint echoed from inside, followed by the slick sound of knife through flesh as Lilja filleted one of the chars.
He pulled a bag of moss out of his sleigh, perched on the rim and threw down a few handfuls. The reindeer approached, knees clicking with every step, and tucked in.
Tuomas’s own bull came closest to him, and he scratched between its ears affectionately. It had already shed its antlers before the Long Dark had begun – he made a mental note to find where they had fallen when he returned to Akerfjorden.
Feeling eyes on him, he glanced over his shoulder.
The Spirit was standing there, as calmly as though she had appeared out of thin air. Her bare feet were indistinguishable from the snow, they were so white. Her long pale hair swept back and forth in the wind, and the thin starry garment she wore fluttered around her. It was cut in a way that reminded him of typical clothing, but the material itself could have been spider silk, or woven snowflakes. It defied gravity, floating as though in water.
“How long have you been there?” he asked.
She stayed silent, so he turned back to the reindeer.
“I didn’t see you following us,” he said. “Didn’t the light delay you?”
“It was uncomfortable. But I dare say I am getting used to it.”
Tuomas was surprised at himself. He had been right.
“You were concerned about me?” she asked, a note of astonishment in her voice.
“You are my concern,” he replied, not looking at her. But the weight of her eyes bore down on him, and his shoulders slumped.
“I know Lilja will say there are no accidents, but it was an accident, me trapping you here. I never meant to do this to you.”
“You were angry and prideful,” said the Spirit, walking closer. “You did not know what you wanted from me.”
Tuomas couldn’t disguise his shock at her understanding.
“Then you forgive me?”
She pursed her lips. That was too much to ask, and too soon. But her expression was not as stony as he would have expected. She actually looked a little guilty herself.
“I probably would have done something similar in your position,” she said in a quiet voice. “The only difference is that you do not understand your own power.”
Tuomas pushed himself off the sleigh and took a tentative step closer to her. She watched him cagily, but didn’t shy back. Her tail flickered, the tip just brushing the snow behind her.
“Why did you take this form?” he asked. “I thought you were a white fox in your true form.”
“Humans cannot comprehend my true form,” she replied. “A white fox is the closest you might come to it. But you wanted to speak to me, challenge me; whatever you had in mind. So you for
ced me to take the shape of something you could comprehend. Something that could talk.”
She gestured to her body. “This is what you settled on, whether you knew it or not. Similar to your size and age. And I suppose a little of the old tales were on your mind, too.”
To illustrate her point, she swept her tail again,
Her voice was softer than before, and it made Tuomas realise how strange it actually sounded. Despite moving her lips, her speech seemed to be carried not by breath, but by the wind and the cold itself. He could reach out and touch her, physically feel her skin, but it did not contain all she was. The air around her sang with her icy power; he heard the beat of it in his heart.
Yet he sensed she struggled to form words, as though to hear them aloud was a different language. And he supposed it was. Henrik had told him the World Above was a formless place. A place where everything existed alongside its neighbours with no need to announce its presence. Ancient, she might be, but this was completely new to her.
He twisted his fingers together inside his mittens. The Spirit regarded him, then took a step closer.
He immediately backed off.
“You won’t harm me?” he asked, unable to keep the panic out of his voice.
“Even if I wanted to, I cannot. You diffused my attack. My powers will not work on you.”
“Why?” Tuomas asked. “Lilja mentioned something about my own powers being strong… is that why I managed to stop you from striking her?”
He paused. “Is it why you left Mihka alone when I jumped on top of him?”
The Spirit moved her eyes away, as though she was unsure whether to answer.
“You know, Mihka wasn’t trying to insult you, not really,” Tuomas insisted. “That’s just the way he is, always being silly. He’s spoiled and lets it go to his head. You must have seen that from the World Above.”
A muscle twitched in the Spirit’s jaw.
“Anger does terrible things. You can vouch for that as much as I.”
“Are you saying you didn’t mean to strike him?” Tuomas asked in disbelief.
