by E. C. Hibbs
“Now, go and get some sleep, as best you can,” he said. “I’m sorry I’ve had to burden you with this.”
Tuomas woodenly got to his feet, picked up his drum, and stepped outside. But once the flap was closed behind him, he didn’t move a muscle. Anxiety raced in his blood and he peered through the trees in the east. The herders had moved too far inland to still see the Mustafjord, but he imagined the mist still clinging to its surface, filled with invisible poison.
Then he looked into the sky and almost fell over in alarm. He turned back to the tent and barked at Henrik to come outside.
Henrik grumbled.
“What in the name of all the Spirits –”
“Hurry up!” Tuomas hissed.
Henrik crawled over as fast as he could and stumbled through the flap. His mouth fell open.
The night was darker than ever. Lumi had disappeared, leaving only the stars, but while many of them remained in their places, some had broken free and cascaded towards the horizon. Glittering trails streamed behind them, the light edging the trees with silver.
Other people had also noticed and started to emerge. Some made the sign of the hand and muttered anxiously among themselves.
“What’s going on?” he asked quietly.
“I don’t know,” Henrik whispered back.
And then, as quickly as the shower had begun, it was over. Everyone stood frozen, too shaken to do anything except continue to stare. A breeze swept snowflakes off the branches, and as they settled on the ground, Tuomas heard the faint sound of children coughing in the shelters.
Chapter Five
She watched from the World Above and she danced the formless dance. She had faded during the day, as she was bound to do, but now the Sun Spirit had retreated, it was her time to shine again and fill the sky with her aurora.
The forest looked tiny from here; the people even more so, hurrying all over the place. The pregnant reindeer walked through the trees, flanked by males and herders and sleighs. They moved with an urgency embedded into their instinct over centuries of survival. Some of them wouldn’t make it. Wolves, wolverines and eagles might swoop in; or they might break a leg. It had happened before and it would happen again. For as skilled as the people were, nature was the ultimate ruler.
The herders drew to a halt and put up their tents. The hearth fires turned the walls of hide tarp a warm orange colour and threw a soft halo of light over the surrounding snow. She could see through the smoke holes to where they lay, eyes closed. Only a few remained awake, sitting close to the reindeer as they watched for wolves.
She gazed upon them in their fur-lined sleeping sacks, beheld their simple dreams, felt the Spirits wandering through the forest all around them. Spirits of trees and rocks and the nearby fjord; of winds and ice, of spring plants slumbering under the snow. The Spirit of Motherhood passed by the female reindeer and caressed the thick fur on their bulging bellies. When the unborn babies felt it, they kicked softly, as though eager to taste the crisp air and feel the grass beneath their hooves.
She rolled around, sending a new blaze of green across the sky, and looked back at Tuomas. Even he was asleep, his human urges having overtaken him. It was only when he was up here with her that he behaved like the Spirit he truly was. But now, contained in this simple single form, there was only so much he could do.
Tuomas. It was still a little strange to call him that. Up here, he had no name, as she had no name; only a title which he’d never used. In the World Between, they had called her so many things through the ages. Moon Daughter. Spirit of the Lights. Fox Fires.
But he had called her Lumi. Only him, her dear brother. And by doing so, he had almost destroyed her. A formless being such as her could not be anything less, and a name given in affection was like poison in the blood. After he called her Lumi, she had begun to feel. Human emotions kindled within her as a fire would spread through tinder – she could remember the water running down her skin as she melted away.
Yet it held a special significance within her, over all the other titles and semi-solid names. It was a literal description of how she appeared in the human form he had given her: pale as snow, cold as winter, perfect as her beautiful Lights.
Never mind that she was the White Fox One. If she were to be known as anything until the end of time, she would have it be that. Lumi.
It was still dark when the people struck their tents and carried on. They struggled through the forest, but the trees gradually thinned and the reindeer became a living cloud fanning over the snow. Tuomas and Elin were near the head of the formation, walking alongside the lead reindeer, each holding a flaming torch to cast a small reach of light.
Even though their faces were obscured by scarves and hats, she could recognise them anywhere. Especially him. She saw souls before she saw eyes or body, or indeed anything physical. And his shone brighter than any other.
Not far behind him was the ignorant boy. Mihka. His hair was so white, it was almost lost against the snow. If she had still had a mouth, she might have smirked at the sight. But she had made good on her promise to Tuomas and released him. He didn’t seem too damaged by the punishment she had dealt. She would leave it at that.
Other children and young adults brought up the rear, making sure the male reindeer didn’t fall behind. Many of them were lagging, and they paused often to cough or hold a hand to their heads. When they spoke, their words were heavy and gargled, as though they had water stuck in their throats.
A shadow passed over her. Why hadn’t Tuomas listened to her when she had held him?
The stars around her suddenly plummeted towards the ground. They shot through the night, too many to count; too fast to catch. They tore between her Lights and sent her into a spin. For a horrible moment, she lost all sense of direction. The souls within the aurora clamoured with fright.
And then, just as quickly as it had happened, it was over.
She hung still while she regained her bearings. Deathly silence fell over the World Above as the Spirits drew close together.
Then she saw why. There was a hole in the skin which separated them from the World Between. It wasn’t large, but inside, there was nothing. Not a single light glimmered. It was blacker than black; sheer oblivion.
She swam over to it. As soon as she drew close, she shuddered; the void chilled her in a way no cold could. She let a hand take shape so she could run her fingers across the edge of the hole. It folded under her like the thinnest fabric.
Proceed with care, White Fox One.
She felt something approach. There was no warmth or coolness; just pure energy drawn from all things, from the highest mountain to the tiniest clump of moss. It swirled and shimmered into the face of the Great Bear Spirit.
What is it? she asked.
Exactly what it looks like, replied the Bear. A tear between the Worlds. Your brother caused it when he pulled away from you.
She spun around and her Lights flared in alarm.
He tore the Worlds?
It was an accident, but a costly one.
Will it hold?
For now. It could have been much worse. And do not blame yourself, White Fox One; you could not have stopped him. He is of equal power to you, and he knows that now.
How can that matter? she snapped. We have always been of equal power, and yet he was able to pull me out of the sky, even as I resisted. I should have been able to keep him here – I only tried to so he would not put himself at risk!
The Bear glanced at her knowingly. But if you had not been pulled from the sky, how would he have learned the truth?
Do you imply that I wanted to go down there and take that human form? she asked incredulously.
Not to the World Between, said the Bear. But to him… I do not need to imply anything. You wanted to be reunited with him ever since he was reborn. And remember, he would have learned who he is without you, but he would not have survived. You saved each other.
The Lights twisted like the branches of a tree
. She couldn’t bring herself to agree, but she also knew that the Great Bear Spirit would not speak such words unless they were correct. It knew everything. It was not good or evil; male or female; past, present or future. It was the essence of existence itself, and bore the ultimate truth of all which came to pass.
She looked at the rip again, and then back at Tuomas. The Bear appeared at her side and regarded him with its penetrating black gaze, darker than the furthest reaches of the night sky.
Could you not have stopped him? she asked.
No.
But…
It does not matter what I could have done or not, the Bear replied in a voice like smooth water. All I do in any World is maintain the balance, and that cannot happen without change in the first place.
You intervened with the wicked demon-mage, she pointed out. You took him to the World Below twice. You intervened with me: you turned me into a fox so I could survive.
And on both occasions, you and the mage made a choice of your own, the Bear countered. The mage chose to make a demon. You chose to reveal your emotions to your brother. Both times caused a change which I could correct. The balance is an ever-moving thing. Even on the coldest and darkest winter day, the Worlds are turning towards summer. Everything happens in response to the other, never at the same time, for without one, the other could not exist. That is where my power lies, White Fox One. Not in causing or preventing a thing, but facilitating its recovery.
She flicked her tail slowly from side to side. The aurora took on a crisp turquoise glow and sent fresh tendrils swimming through the darkness.
And now Tuomas has made a choice, she said.
He needed to make it, replied the Bear. I intend for him to put an end to the suffering once and for all. In order to learn how, he must see the effect of the draugars for himself.
What if they take him? They know he is alive again.
She suddenly paused, her Lights hanging still in the empty air
This is all my fault, she whispered. I should not have brought him up here; that was when they sensed him.
They were due to return with or without your actions, the Bear replied. Its voice was both accusing and comforting, yet neither at the same time. And when all is done, an even greater task will await him: that which he was reborn to accomplish in the first place. I shall summon him when the time is right, and you and I will remind him of what he has forgotten. And I will tell him what he must do.
I wish you would not speak in such riddles.
It is what I am, White Fox One.
She thought she heard a flicker of a laugh in the words, but they did little to lessen her anxiety. Even as the youngsters sickened, Tuomas was in the most danger of all.
The days rolled by. Everyone awoke early and walked until their feet ached. The Sun Spirit only rose for what felt like a few heartbeats at noon. Her glow was the sole break in the monotonous blue twilight which engulfed the land. It was a stark reminder that while the Long Dark was over, the grip of winter still dug its fingers deep.
When they reached the next camping spot, the shelters went back up, once more under cover of night. The snow was thinner here, with a frosty crust on the top and a layer of ice underfoot. Tuomas joined Paavo and Elin, assembling the poles against each other, hacking notches into the ice so the ends could grip. Tuomas knelt on all fours and Paavo stood on his back to tie them together at the top.
Paavo coughed so violently, he grabbed hold of the poles and almost fell. Elin snatched his legs to steady him.
“Get down,” she insisted.
Paavo coughed again. “It’s alright, I can do it.”
He bound the cord in a knot and jumped back into the snow. Tuomas got to his feet and went to check him, but Paavo waved him off.
“Don’t worry about me. I told you, it’s just a tickle,” he insisted. “I must have swallowed a hair or something.”
Tuomas bit his lip nervously. “Does it hurt? Is it on your lungs?”
Paavo slapped his chest hard. “A little. I’m fine, I promise. I don’t feel unwell.”
“You’re not convincing me,” said Tuomas. “Go inside, I’ll be back.”
He walked over to Henrik, who had just finished putting his own tent up with help from Aslak and Anssi.
“Do you have any nettle or angelica?” he asked. “I need to make some of your tea.”
Henrik looked at him for a long moment, then nodded at an array of sealskin pouches in the nearest sleigh.
“Use a little, but brew it for longer than you think you need to,” he instructed. “We have to save the supplies for as long as possible.”
Tuomas muttered thanks and rooted through the bags until he found the herbs he needed. He pulled off a mitten, shook the contents into his open palm, then grabbed one of Henrik’s tools: a pestle made from the carved end of a reindeer’s femur. When he had everything, he headed back to the shelter. Elin had already started to build a fire, and a pot filled with snow sat waiting to be placed onto it. As the flames grew, Tuomas upended the utensil sack and retrieved several wooden cups, hollowed out of birch tree burrs. He used one with the pestle to grind the dried leaves together.
As he worked, he heard Henrik’s voice in his head from months ago:
“Strike them hard, boy. The goodness inside them needs to come out if it’s to heal.”
As soon as the snow had melted and started to boil, he threw the herbs in and steeped the mixture until it formed a dark fragrant tea. He grabbed another cup, filled it to the brim, and forced it into Paavo’s hands.
“Drink that,” he ordered.
Paavo sipped from it and wrinkled his nose in disgust.
“By the Spirits!” he cried. “And I thought Henrik’s brews were strong!”
Tuomas couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “Oh, come on, it’s not that bad.”
Paavo raised his brows. “You’re sure about that, are you?”
“Well, I’ll take your word for it.” He picked up the pot with a cloth. “I’m going to give this to everyone who’s been coughing. And no cooking tonight, alright? You need to rest.”
“Oh, I’ll have to put up with your cooking as well as your awful tea?” Paavo said, but there was a gleam in his eye. Tuomas gave him a soft kick and then ducked back into the open.
All the tents were up now; the villagers had done it for so long, it took barely any time. He walked to the nearest one and poked his head through the flap. A family looked up at him: his and Paavo’s closest neighbours from the winter camp. Right on cue, the little boy spluttered in his mother’s lap.
“I’ve got some tea, for the illness,” he said, holding out the pot. “Would you like some?”
The mother’s eyes darted between him and her son awkwardly. Then she nodded and handed over a cup. Tuomas filled it and she turned her attention to encouraging the youngster to drink it.
Tuomas removed himself from the shelter and went to walk away, but then he heard the mother and father’s hushed voices. He didn’t catch every word, but the ones he did drove dismay into his heart like needles.
“Son of the Son…”
“Great Mage…”
“Spirit in human form…”
Tuomas pressed his lips together. These were people who had helped care for him and raise him. Akerfjorden wasn’t just a village, it was a family; there was nobody unconnected to all the others by blood or marriage. But as far as they could see, he had left at the beginning of the Long Dark as the boy they had always known, and now returned as a complete stranger with powers they didn’t even recognise.
Could they even still see him anymore? Had he really once wanted to be a mage so he could feel special?
He sighed and walked to the next tent, dealing out the tea until he was scraping the bottom of the pot. Practically every family with children took a cup, and some of the parents too. However, behind the grateful smiles, everyone’s eyes were dark with wariness. It pressed on Tuomas’s shoulders like a physical weight. When he stepped ou
tside for the final time, he took a deep breath, trying to shift it.
There was a faint green glow over the snow. He looked up, straight into a blazing green aurora.
Those sitting on wolf-duty immediately bowed in respect. Tuomas lowered his head too. This wasn’t the first time Lumi’s Lights had shone since leaving Akerfjorden, but it was certainly the brightest. She was close to the skin between the Worlds. As the ghostly colours spread new streaks across the sky, he could almost see her at their head, sweeping her tail and shooting them from her hands.
He stood still and spoke silently.
I know you can hear me. I’m sorry. I know I upset you when I pulled away. I had to help them; it’s a good thing I came back. You must see that.
She didn’t reply, just carried on dancing.
Lumi? he said. What happened with the stars? Is everything alright?
The Lights slowed, drifting like fabric in water. A tiny edge of blue crept through them, then disappeared, and he knew he would get nothing else.
He kicked out at the powdery snow in frustration, but it didn’t lessen the heaviness in his heart, so he trudged back to his tent and crawled inside. Elin was already cooking sautéed reindeer in a spare pot. He was relieved to see that Paavo had almost finished the tea, and his bruised eyes looked more tired than ill.
They ate in near-silence, too exhausted from the day’s walk to speak about much. Then they unrolled their sleeping sacks and settled down. Tuomas turned his face to the fire, closed his eyes and immediately slipped into slumber.
He felt the heat of the hearth permeating his dreams; then the touch of snow on his cheeks and a pressure around his wrists, as though they were bound. He smelled woodsmoke and something rotting, like carrion on a hot day.
A man’s face leered before him, smeared with ash, blinded in one eye. A terrible wound lay open on his throat.
Kari.
The demon pinned Tuomas’s arms behind his back and the man drove a knife into his chest. Pain tore through him. He struggled, but he couldn’t move; his body had turned to stone. His own scream surrounded him and threatened to swallow him whole. The blade slid deeper; he felt blood running down his naked chest… Kari was close, too close, too real…
