by E. C. Hibbs
He woke with a start. It was dark – for a horrible moment, he forgot where he was. Something was wrapped around his legs. Was he still tied up?
Then the details of the shelter swam into view. The pressure on his legs was just his sleeping sack. He kicked free of the tangle and fumbled with his tunic until he could see the scar over his breastbone. It was still there, healed, bloodless. Beneath the flesh, he felt his heart beating.
He gasped with relief. He told himself he was safe, that Kari couldn’t hurt him anymore, but a ball of anxiety grew to replace the phantom pain of the knife. It didn’t matter that Kari was gone; the memory of him lingered like a burn.
Elin stirred. Tuomas turned his head to watch her, but she didn’t wake; only coughed and burrowed deeper into her sack like a mouse. Then she suddenly kicked out, her face knotted with distress. She flung up her arms as though trying to fight something off and hit one of the tent poles. The entire shelter shuddered.
Tuomas hurried to her and grabbed her wrists. She struggled against him with a frightened whimper.
He threw a quick glance at Paavo. His brother was still asleep, but Tuomas knew he would wake up soon if Elin carried on.
“Elin!” he whispered, as loudly as he dared. He let go of her with one hand and tapped her cheek.
Her eyes flew open. She looked around in alarm, then into Tuomas’s face.
“Where’s the boy?” she cried. “There was a boy…”
“It’s alright,” Tuomas assured her. “There’s nothing here. You just had a nightmare.”
Elin peered at him for a moment longer, then he felt her relax and released her other arm. He checked Paavo again, but he hadn’t moved. His gentle snores filled the tent.
“Why are you awake?” Elin asked groggily. “Did you have a one too?”
Tuomas nodded. “It’s nothing. Go back to sleep.”
He had barely finished speaking when Elin closed her eyes again. Within moments, she was breathing heavily – and, Tuomas was pleased to see, her face looked much calmer. She turned onto her side and flung out her hand, her fingers landing on the arch of her bow.
Before he returned to his own sleeping sack, Tuomas drew back the flap just enough to peer out at the sky. To his relief, the stars were all in their proper places. Not a single one had fallen since that first night, but unease twisted in his gut nevertheless.
He placed a fresh log on the fire so it would burn until they woke, then laced his tunic shut again and laid his head down. He took hold of his drum and pulled it close, hugging it to his chest like a shield.
Then he caught sight of his belt, draped over his brown fur coat. Alongside his knives, a number of small leather and sealskin pouches were tied onto it. He grasped one at the back, which he’d completely forgotten was there, and untied it so he could peer inside.
The contents were still there: a lock of Mihka’s snowy hair, and a bone carved into the shape of a fox.
Tears prickled his eyes, but didn’t fall. How could it all seem so long ago, when he had set out into the Long Dark? Back then, when he had yearned for more, without knowing truly what that wish would bring?
He stared into the flames as they licked around the wood, watched the gentle red glow emanating from the embers, and listened to their crackle until slumber swept back to claim him.
Chapter Six
The next day, the convoy finally broke free of the forest and emerged onto the tundra. No longer funnelled by packed trees, the three hundred-strong herd spread out and transformed the flat snowy plain into a heaving sea of brown. The soft blue glow spilled over everything and cast no boundary between earth and sky. Wherever Tuomas looked, it was always the same: huge, open, with only the occasional shrub bent low by fierce blasts of wind.
Despite the endless nothingness, the reindeer knew where they were going. They walked unfazed into the north, following the secret hidden instinct which drove them every year towards Anaar. Even if the weather turned bad, they would carry on. But luckily, the spring was proving mild so far, and the previous cold weather had frozen the snow solid, making it easier for the animals to walk. Their large cup-shaped hooves splayed effortlessly across the surface.
The air was filled with the clicking of thousands of tendons in the reindeers’ knees. They moved as one massive being, pushing through the snow with the occasional indignant snort. When the wind picked up, they huddled close together to keep warm, and the females’ antlers waved like a giant living forest. The bulls had all shed their antlers near the end of the Long Dark, but the cows would keep theirs through the winter until after they gave birth.
After the burden of wading through deep powder, many of the herders had taken the earliest opportunity to wear skis. Like the reindeers’ hooves, the long thin planks spread out their weight, and they slid alongside the herd on all sides to make sure no animals wandered too far. Others rode in the sleighs beside the cargo, or balanced on the backs with their feet on the runners.
As he skied along, Tuomas looked at the bull nearest to him. A quick glance at the series of notches cut into its ear told him it was one of Mihka’s. Everyone’s mark was different, as distinctive as a face, and they could all recognise their own even in the middle of a hectic corral.
The bull’s large black eyes shone in the low light. Tuomas could imagine all the stars existing in those eyes. It reminded him of the legend which said that the Great Bear Spirit had used its own ancient body to make the three Worlds. Its blood transformed into the rivers and seas, its fur into the trees and bushes, and its skull into the sky. It had spread itself across everything which had ever existed, and allowed a giant invisible tree to grow through its remains, connecting the realms together. And it still stood even today: branches in the World Above, roots in the World Below, and trunk here in the World Between.
He slipped a hand out his mitten and dug around in a bag tied to his belt. He had filled it with dried jerky before leaving the camp that morning, so a snack was never out of reach. He pulled a strip free and took a bite out of it, then let his eyes wander over the tundra.
Somewhere out there, Lilja would be walking with the Poro herd. How was she managing with being around people again? In this endless whiteness, she could be anywhere if she wanted. She could disappear as she always had, never to see another human for the rest of her days, and she would have been perfectly happy with that.
Or would she? For all her wanderings, she had never been truly alone.
When he met her again, would she take him on? Tuomas gnawed on his lips as he thought about it. They were dry and cracked from cold, but he ignored the pain.
Paces turned into miles; hours into days, until an entire week had fallen behind them. The pale Sun Spirit passed from the right hand-side to the left, and eventually skimmed the horizon, throwing yellow highlights and blue shadows across the unchanging land. The snow turned lilac and pink and glittered in pastel glory.
It might have been easy to forget they were making any progress at all, save for the trail of churned-up prints left in their wake. Tuomas focused on the necessary things: one foot in front of the other; left ski pole into the snow, then right ski pole.
He followed the age-old route in his mind, imagined himself soaring above it like an eagle to behold it in its entirety. It would take them over the tundra, then up into the mountains, through the snowy passes where nothing grew. Then down again, far past the mouth of the Mustafjord, towards the sea.
Mihka appeared beside him and jostled his shoulder. Tuomas jumped, caught off guard.
“Good, you’re awake. For a moment there, I thought you were sleepwalking,” Mihka said, his voice muffled by a scarf.
“You can’t sleepwalk in skis,” Tuomas countered.
Mihka shrugged. “Whatever. How are you?”
Before he could reply, Mihka turned away and coughed. He spat phlegm into the snow. Tuomas noticed a tiny line of red on his lip.
His heart raced.
“Are you alright? There�
�s blood.”
“Huh? I’ve probably just strained. No need to worry.”
“You’re not getting sick too, are you?”
“I hope not,” said Mihka. “How am I supposed to keep everyone entertained if I can’t speak?”
“I think we’ll be glad of the silence for once,” Tuomas said.
“Very funny.”
They trudged onward, the crunch of snow broken only by Mihka’s coughs. He wiped his lips and left a scarlet smear across the fur on his mitten.
“I haven’t seen much of you,” he said.
“Nobody has,” said Tuomas. “I was away, remember?”
“Yes, I remember,” Mihka drawled sarcastically. “But even since you got back, I’ve hardly seen you. You’ve only spoken to me twice since the migration started.”
“Because you’ve been riding with your father. I’ve been up here all the time, or making tea for the kids,” Tuomas said. “You should have some of it later, by the way. You don’t want that cough to get worse. I mean it.”
“I don’t want to not talk to you, either,” Mihka retorted. “You saved me. You did everything for me. Now you’re back, I’m back…”
He threw a glance at Elin, who had skied ahead to join Paavo and Aslak at the front of the herd.
“Have you got a new best friend, or something?” he muttered, his tone hard.
Tuomas frowned at him.
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t act stupid. You’ve been with her all the time. Loading the sleighs, walking up here. What’s so special about her?”
“Nothing,” Tuomas insisted. “We’re just friends.”
Mihka coughed again, then scowled at him. “But she’s a girl.”
“So?” Tuomas exhaled sharply, trying to keep his frustration in check. “She’s a good person. She saved my life. A few times.”
“What, and just because I didn’t, she’s better than me?” Mihka said, sullenly casting his eyes down. “It’s not my fault I was asleep.”
Despite himself, Tuomas couldn’t hold back an explosion of laughter.
“Not your fault? Come on, Mihka, you insulted the Lights! You know you’re lucky to be walking right now.”
Mihka’s cheeks reddened. “Well… yes, alright. But it doesn’t feel like you’re here much. Not with me, anyway.”
“I haven’t been with anyone all that much. Not even Elin. All I’ve done is help her carry the food sacks,” said Tuomas. “You know how busy everyone is at this time of year. There’s no time to do anything else. And she’s only sleeping in our tent because Paavo made her our guest.”
He gripped his ski pole tightly and glanced down at his chest. He hadn’t had the nightmare again, but it was still horribly close.
“And… I’ve had a lot to deal with,” he added, dropping his voice so nobody else would hear. “Did Henrik and Sisu fill you in while I was gone? About the demon-mage?”
Mihka nodded. “Did he really try to kill you?”
“He tried to do more than that,” Tuomas said. “And I know he’s gone now, but it scared me, Mihka. I’m trying to work through it, so I just need you to be patient with me. Things will be back to normal soon enough.”
Mihka was silent for a few moments.
“No, they won’t,” he said, notably quieter. “It’s not the same. You’re not the same.”
“Don’t be silly. Of course I am.”
“No, you’re not.”
Tuomas looked at him quizzically. Mihka met his eyes, and then he instantly understood what his friend meant.
“I’m still Tuomas,” he insisted. “What life-soul I have doesn’t make any difference.”
“It does to everyone else,” said Mihka. “You should have seen them, while you were away. You were all they talked about.”
“What did they say?”
“That it’s an omen. When the Great Mage was here, he led the people to Akerfjorden to get away from the Moon Spirit.”
Tuomas gritted his teeth, painfully recalling the words he’d heard upon sharing out the tea.
“Well, don’t worry about that. I spoke with the Great Bear Spirit when I was in Poro, and it didn’t seem to have any issues about me. Things can go on as they always have,” he said, but he cut his words off when he noticed Mihka’s wide-eyed expression.
“This is what I mean,” he said. “You’re just talking about this Spirit and that Spirit, like you’ve known them all for ages. Henrik’s been a mage for… what, centuries? And even he can’t talk to them like that. And you never did, not before all this. It’s not normal.”
Tuomas swallowed nervously.
“Does it really matter if it’s normal or not? I can do it. So what? It will help me be a good mage.”
Mihka gave an uncomfortable shuffle on his skis.
“They were saying that you’ve been reborn with that life-soul for a reason. That it means bad things are coming, and you’ll have to get us out of it again.”
“Again?” Tuomas smirked. “The only one I’ve gotten out of anything so far is an idiot who had his hair turn white.”
That did it. Mihka raised one of his ski poles and smacked him across the legs. Tuomas shoved him back and pulled down his scarf a little to stick out his tongue – the only part of his face which was visible from under his layers.
The two of them chuckled, and as though nothing had happened, it was like it had always been.
But then there came a sudden shout from the front of the herd. Tuomas looked up in alarm. The reindeer beside him jostled, spooked by the sound.
“Henrik!” somebody yelled. Elin.
Tuomas craned his neck to see, but the mass of reindeer blocked his view. Then he noticed Elin powering towards them on her skis. He reached out as she passed and snatched her arm, pulling her to a stop.
“Where’s Henrik?” she asked breathlessly.
“At the back,” said Tuomas. “What is it?”
She motioned behind her with one of her poles. “It’s Paavo. He’s collapsed!”
Tuomas’s heart rose into his throat and he forgot to breathe.
“Get Henrik and meet me there,” he snapped.
He pushed forward and shot past the herd. He headed in the direction Elin had come from and immediately noticed where the reindeer were walking around an obstruction in their path. Sure enough, there were a few figures on the ground; others were standing with their arms out to guide the animals away.
Tuomas hurried over and skidded to a halt, sending snow flying.
“What happened?” he asked as he kicked his shoes out of the skis.
Aslak’s eyes were wide with panic and he pushed Paavo onto his back.
“He just fell,” he said. “He was coughing, and then his voice slurred, and he went down.”
Tuomas yanked Paavo’s scarf away from his face. His skin was alarmingly pale, lips turning blue. There were specks of blood around his mouth.
Aslak hovered behind Tuomas.
“Is he alright?” he asked anxiously.
Tuomas didn’t reply. He pulled off his mitten and held a finger under his brother’s nose. He felt a waft of warmth followed by a cloud rising into the air – he was breathing. Then he searched Paavo’s wrist. His pulse was ragged, racing one moment and skipping beats the next.
He looked up frantically. The reindeer were continuing to move past them; all he saw was a heaving mass of brown fur.
“Where’s Henrik?” he snapped. “Henrik!”
“Tuomas, I’ve found him! We’re coming!”
Elin drew to a stop at Tuomas’s side and stuck her poles upright in the snow. Henrik appeared moments after, running as fast as he could. He grabbed hold of Elin to steady himself while he caught his breath, then eased himself to his knees and lifted Paavo’s head into his lap.
He took some tea from a flask at his belt and held the rim to Paavo’s lips. Tuomas caught a strong woody whiff of angelica. The brew wouldn’t be hot, but Tuomas couldn’t help but recall
the times he had joked how it could probably wake a corpse.
Please let that be true, he thought, and sent out a silent prayer to all the Spirits he could think of.
Paavo spluttered, coughed up half the tea, then fell back against Henrik’s chest. He let out a frantic gasp. His throat sounded horribly tight, as though an invisible rope had been tied around it.
“Are you alright?” Tuomas asked over Henrik’s shoulder.
“Mmnnh,” Paavo groaned. “What happened?”
“You fell,” Elin said. “Are you hurt?”
Paavo shook his head and tried to stand, but Henrik and Aslak pressed him down.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Aslak said. “You sit and ride for a while. Tuomas, can you fetch a sleigh, please?”
Ignoring Paavo’s protests, Tuomas retraced his steps until he reached the first wave of sleighs. Maiken was sitting in the nearest one, on top of a mound of sleeping sacks. Tuomas came up behind and jumped on the runners. He almost lost his balance, but gripped the back and bent his knees, crouching low so Maiken could hear him.
“You need to get Paavo,” he said. “Over there.”
Maiken tugged on a rope attached to the reindeer’s harness and waved her right arm at the same time. The animal immediately turned left, away from the movement. Within minutes, the sleigh had pulled up next to Paavo. Tuomas stepped off and helped Aslak lift him inside.
“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Maiken promised. She felt Paavo’s forehead. “You’re on fire. You need to stay warm. But don’t let your mind fool you into thinking you’re too hot; you’ll start taking your layers off.”
“Get under the blanket,” Tuomas said.
“I’m fine,” Paavo snapped. “I just went a little dizzy.”
“You are not fine,” said Henrik. “Do as you’re told. Stay there and rest.”
That finally silenced Paavo and he slumped back against the sleeping sacks in defeat. Everyone knew: if a village leader or mage commanded something, it was always best to obey.
“Take this,” Henrik said as he handed Maiken the flask. “Make sure he drinks it.”
