by E. C. Hibbs
Tuomas and Elin sat still for a moment. Paavo wasn’t the type to lose his patience, so when he did, it set Tuomas’s teeth on edge.
He glanced around the hut in an effort to distract himself. The beams were made from single limbs of wood, bound to their neighbours with reindeer tendons spun into twine. Various tools and handicrafts hung from knots on the walls. There was nothing frivolous here; everything had a use, but it was intricately decorated with carvings and beads, or dyed with earth pigments. Even the hearthstones were arranged so lines of smaller rock wove between the large ones, creating the image of a tree.
“He’s really mad,” Tuomas said quietly. “I’ve never seen him that mad.”
“Can you blame him?” Elin replied as she started wrapping up in her layers. “He’s got a point.”
“I know.”
“Are you going to talk to him?”
“When he’s calmed down. He won’t listen if I try now.”
Elin finished tying her coat closed and headed for the door. “Are you coming?”
“Hold on,” Tuomas muttered. He tore open a nearby food sack and grabbed the first thing he found: a parcel of flat salmon cakes. The sight and smell reminded him how ravenous he was. He stuffed them into his mouth, barely chewing before he swallowed.
Elin stared at him. “Hungry?”
“Starving,” he said, holding a hand over his lips so nothing would fall out. He snatched a wooden cup, dipped it into the pot of water near the hearth and gulped the contents down. When he was done, he collapsed against one of the beams with a gasp.
“Didn’t you eat anything up there, or something?” Elin asked in shock.
Tuomas shook his head. There was no need for any food in the higher realm. The more he thought about it, the more he wondered how he had even managed to survive.
The answer intruded into his mind as though he had pricked himself with a needle.
Red Fox One.
He screwed his eyes shut and forced the thought away.
“Are you alright?” Elin asked.
“I’m fine,” Tuomas said.
“Are you sure? You look like someone walked over your grave.”
“I’m fine, Elin. Really. I’m just… hungry.”
She held his eyes for a moment longer before stepping outside. He knew he hadn’t fooled her; she was as sharp as an arrowhead. But now was no time to dwell on Spirit matters. He decided to deal with that baggage later, when he was alone, able to truly think about what it all meant.
He took one more salmon cake from the parcel, then got to his feet and followed Elin out of the door. The two of them walked in silence towards the fire pit. A circle of logs lay around it, laid with thick reindeer hides. The fire itself was still smouldering with the ashes of the evening’s gathering, and a ring of icicles had formed around it where the snow had melted and then re-frozen in the bitter night. Everyone’s breath rose in clouds and they huddled together for warmth. A faint breeze was blowing from the north, and though it wasn’t strong, it bit through to the bone.
The lingering mist dispersed the low light into a shadowy purgatory. Already, it was starting to lift, but Tuomas was glad to reach the other villagers. It was thinner away from the water, and it was a relief to be able to make out individual faces and bodies as they sat on the logs.
Tuomas and Elin squeezed in beside Paavo. He tried to catch his brother’s attention, but Paavo didn’t move. Tuomas looked down guiltily and nibbled on the salmon cake.
Sisu got to his feet and everyone immediately silenced.
“I respect you all enough to not keep secrets,” he said. “We don’t know what happened here tonight. I’m happy to say that Tuomas is back with us…”
He motioned to Tuomas and a multitude of eyes immediately turned on him.
“And now that he is,” Sisu continued, brandishing his hands at the mist, “in light of whatever this is, I think we should leave for the migration as soon as we can. I think we can all recognise that it’s not a normal fog. Too dense for that.”
Tuomas watched in silence. Timing was everything when it came to the migration. They needed to travel through the mountain passes and into the north, where the summer grounds lay on the ancestral island of Anaar. If they left early, the mountains could still be clogged with snow; too late, and the reindeer cows risked dropping their babies before they reached the coast.
“Aslak,” said Maiken. “how quickly do you think we can go?”
“The reindeer are ready,” Aslak replied. “We’ve corralled them all and checked their teeth. Most of them are healthy enough. The females will start walking as soon as we open the gate.”
“So, we only need to gather the supplies?” asked Anssi.
“Yes, and they’re practically all ready, too. They just need loading into the sleighs.”
“Can we do it now? Does everybody feel able?”
There was a faint muttering among the crowd, then a woman raised her hand.
“Wouldn’t it be best to wait until this mist has gone?” she asked. “The migration route takes us down the Mustafjord and then through the little pass in the cliffs. We can’t use that now.”
“And even if we could,” another man added, “what if there’s something out there that we can’t see?”
At that, Maiken turned to look at Tuomas and Paavo.
“Did either of you see anything?”
They both shook their heads.
The leaders exchanged worried glances. Several villagers made the sign of the hand to ward off evil. Even in the gloom, Tuomas felt them all looking at him, like a physical weight on his chest.
“Wait a moment,” an older man said, “what about the caretakers? If there’s something on the Mustafjord, we’ll still be here when Henrik’s shield comes down.”
“There’s nothing on the Mustafjord,” Henrik said.
Tuomas’s breath caught in his throat. He had a mind to speak up, but he hesitated – it would suit Henrik to know, but everyone else would panic. So he bit his lips together and resolved to tell them later.
“But,” Henrik continued, “with such low visibility, it’s dangerous to go across the ice, and we can’t afford to wait on the chance the mist will burn away before we leave. It’s too thick for that.”
Sisu’s eyes darted in all directions as he mulled over the situation.
“I agree with Henrik,” he said. “As for the reindeer… it’s not going to be easy for us, but we could go through the forest around the west flank of the fjord. If we harness a tame leader, the rest of the herd will follow.”
Aslak nodded. “That could work. It will take all of us to manage, though.”
“What about the sleighs?” another man protested. “The trees are too dense!”
“We’ll just have to take our time,” said Sisu. “It’s not the best solution, but I’d rather take it than risk riding through that mist.”
“So, you want to leave right away?” asked Paavo. “Should we go and get the reindeer ready?”
“We should be fine to catch a few more hours’ sleep,” Henrik said. “The barrier will hold, and I’ll stay up to make sure it remains in place. Tomorrow will be a long day.”
“Then it’s decided,” said Maiken, clasping her hands together. “Everyone, go back to bed. I’ll shout when it’s time to move.”
The crowd immediately stood, parents sweeping sleepy children into their arms. A couple of the youngsters coughed gently, their eyes heavy and red with tiredness. Paavo got to his feet too and headed for the hut. Tuomas cagily watched him go, but his brother didn’t wait or look back.
He went to follow, but then Maiken spoke up.
“Tuomas, stay here a moment, please.”
Elin hesitated, but Tuomas gave her a nod to tell her to go. She offered a small smile, then walked away.
Tuomas crammed the rest of the salmon cake into his mouth. He skirted the edge of the fire pit so he was closer to the leaders and sat down again. Maiken, Anssi and Henrik re
mained, but Sisu ushered Mihka back to the shelter of their own hut.
The three of them looked at him steadily. The weight of their gazes was so heavy, he wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear under the snow.
“I’m sorry I went. I know what it must have looked like,” he said. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone… I just didn’t think.”
A muscle twitched in Henrik’s old face. “That’s no excuse, boy. You passed your test; that makes you a mage now. You can’t just not think when you’re in my position, and you will be, one day.”
“I know,” Tuomas said carefully. “But I’m sorry.”
“That’s not why I asked you to stay,” Maiken cut in before the argument could escalate. “You and Henrik can speak about this another time. For now, we’re just glad you’re back. But things have happened since you left, and you need to know.”
“Forgive me, but there’s something you need to know, too,” Tuomas cut in. “I don’t know what that mist is, but when I was out there, I heard something – it sounded like fish, all slithering over each other. And something was… pulling at my taika. Like it knew I was there.”
Henrik stared at him. “Are you absolutely sure you didn’t see anything?”
“If I did, I would tell you,” Tuomas replied. “I just heard the sound. And… when I was in the World Above, something pulled three souls out of Lumi’s grasp, just before I saw the mist on the Mustafjord. She tried to stop me; she said it was dangerous.”
A small shuffle of discomfort washed through them as he spoke of Lumi. The three leaders glanced among themselves and anxiously fingered the bone beads on their clothes. Even Henrik, who had more dealings with the Spirits than any other, wore a guarded expression.
“Interesting that the one who ripped a child’s soul away speaks of danger,” Anssi muttered, but Henrik shot him a stern glare and Anssi quickly lowered his head in respect. Tuomas knew it wasn’t just to Henrik. The mist had blocked out the sky, but he was sure Lumi was still up there watching, and after the way he wrenched himself away from her, she wouldn’t be in a forgiving mood.
“Henrik?” Maiken said quietly, “what are your thoughts?”
Henrik had pursed his lips so tightly; they had turned white.
“I… have no reason to believe the two are connected,” he admitted eventually. “And if they are, it sounds like it is something to do with the dead, not the living, and nothing dead can harm the living. The souls may have just been destined for another place, boy. It happens. Sometimes, not all body-souls go to the Spirit of the Lights. As for the noise… probably just a shoal of fish, like you said. Nobody else heard anything.”
He spoke assuredly, and although discomfort still writhed in Tuomas’s stomach, Henrik’s voice calmed him. It had been the constant sound of reason through his whole life. He was the village mage; the oldest one of all – probably the oldest that had ever lived. He would know what he was doing.
“Alright,” Tuomas said. “I just wanted to make you aware.”
“Thank you for that,” replied Anssi. “Now, listen, Tuomas. Messages have been sent out between Akerfjorden, Poro and Einfjall. We’re not going to just meet up on the route this time. All the leaders have decided to combine the herds when we reach the coast, and shelter as one large community on Anaar. It’s the biggest of the islands; it will take all of us easily.”
Henrik nodded. “The demon-master may be gone, but we’re not taking any chances. Where one evil treads, another can certainly follow. It’s better to be safe than sorry, and we have safety in numbers.”
The mere mention of Kari made the hair on the back of Tuomas’s neck stand up. He pressed a hand to his chest and glanced over his shoulder at the mist still hanging across the Mustafjord, confined behind the invisible wall Henrik had laid down.
He hadn’t sensed any kind of evil when he heard the slippery sound, but the more he thought about it, he realised he hadn’t sensed anything. In the sudden darkness which had seized him, it was as though whatever had made the noise had come from a place devoid of all things, and that unnerved him even more than if another demon had come charging out of the fog.
Henrik noticed his discomfort and rested a hand on his arm.
“Things will be fine, boy,” he said. “We will follow the same means as the reindeer. Stay together, protect each other. We will be as one herd.”
“That hasn’t happened in generations,” Tuomas said. “Not since…”
“The time of the Great Mage,” Maiken finished.
As she spoke, a darkness came into her eyes, and everyone looked at Tuomas as though they were seeing him anew. He squirmed under the pressure of it and turned his attention back to the Mustafjord.
Underneath that frozen sheet, he had drowned, once. He wondered what it would have been like to breathe and draw in only water, choking and spasming down there in the dark…
Down there, with a Spirit for a soul, encased in a prison of flesh and bone…
Red Fox One…
He shook his head, trying to push it away.
Henrik lifted his hand and tapped him on the shoulder.
“Go and get some rest,” he said. “But when we make the first camp, I want you to come and see me.”
“Alright,” Tuomas agreed. He bid goodnight to the three of them, then trudged his way back towards the hut. With every step, his shoes crunched in the snow, and he was painfully aware of their eyes watching until the mist swallowed him. He tried to hold his breath as he walked through it, so he wouldn’t breathe it in. Whatever it was, it unnerved him.
When he ducked inside, Paavo was already asleep, snoring softly in his usual place with his face turned to the turf wall. Elin was in her sleeping sack too, but as soon as she saw Tuomas, she propped herself up on her elbow.
“What did they want?” she whispered.
Tuomas placed a new log on the fire so it would burn through the night.
“They just wanted to tell me about the villages joining together,” he replied. “Elin, do you mind if we talk in the morning? I don’t want to disturb Paavo – he’s in a bad enough mood already.”
She nodded, then shot him a friendly smile before lying down on her back. She clutched her bow close in one hand, the pale wood shining in the flickering firelight.
Tuomas fetched his own sleeping sack and unrolled it. It smelled a little musty – he supposed it had been stored at the back of the shelter ever since he’d left. But he ignored that, pulled off his shoes and coat and wriggled into it. It was made from two reindeer hides stitched together, the thick hair on the inside to hold in warmth, and he had no sooner settled before he felt tiredness sweeping through him.
The last thing he saw was Paavo turning over, waking for just long enough to cough.
Chapter Three
Tuomas barely felt as though he had closed his eyes before Maiken’s voice cut through his slumber. He jolted awake and sat bolt upright, narrowly missing hitting his head on a low-hanging beam.
“Everybody up!” she called, clapping her hands. “It’s time to move!”
Paavo kicked out of his sleeping sack. He glanced at Tuomas, then busied himself with pulling on layers. Tuomas tried to give him a smile, but Paavo didn’t return it. He hoisted a coil of rope over his shoulder.
“I’m going to go help Aslak prepare the herd,” he said stiffly. “You two help take the supply sacks to the sleighs.”
Tuomas stood up. “Paavo – ”
“Later,” Paavo snapped. “There’s too much to do. Come on, get ready and get to work.”
He stepped outside before Tuomas could protest and kicked the door shut behind him. Tuomas sighed and pushed his feet into his shoes.
“I hoped he might have woken up in a better mood,” he said. “I’ll try again later.”
“He’s just pre-occupied,” Elin said. She fetched her bow and slipped her head and arm between the wood and string so it sat snugly on her back.
When they emerged from the hut, Tuomas was
both surprised and relieved to see the mist in the village had lifted. A thin film of it lingered here and there, but the majority of it had pooled on the Mustafjord, like a cloud had somehow dropped fully-formed from the sky. Every now and then, wafts of it would press against Henrik’s barrier and rebound back on itself. Henrik himself sat on the bank, a reindeer skin and small fire all which kept him from the snow beneath.
Tuomas tried to peer through the mist to the fjord beyond. This was the first time in his life when he wouldn’t be starting the migration by following its icy path.
In the forest above Akerfjorden, the air was filled with the ringing of bells as the reindeer jostled about, eager to get moving. Tuomas couldn’t see Paavo anywhere, but knew he would be up there with the other strong young men. Everybody else was still in the village, lighting flaming torches so they could see what they were doing. The Sun Spirit would not rise until close to midday, but the fires threw their glow across the snow, and outside their flickering rings, the surroundings appeared even darker. The shadows held the depths of a land which had almost forgotten what daylight looked like.
As soon as the paths between the huts were lit, every man, woman and child sprang into action. Maiken spoke with the older people who were staying behind to maintain the winter camp. Mihka and Sisu set up the numerous sleighs required for the journey, scooping snow out of their bellies and lining them with hides. Anssi went into the woods to gather any moss and lichen which hadn’t yet been eaten by the reindeer. There would be places on the route with no trees for the animals to forage from, and no vegetation beneath the snow which they could dig up. Taking a backup supply was essential for the two long weeks which lay ahead.
Elin and Tuomas fetched numerous pairs of skis and laid them across the back of one of the sleighs. Then they packed food and tools into sacks and carried them to the edge of the village. For Tuomas, every movement was painful – his muscles screamed in protest as they moved properly again for the first time in a month.
“I can’t believe I was gone for so long,” he said.
