by E. C. Hibbs
Realising she wasn’t going to come over, Tuomas made his way towards her. She watched his every step like a wary animal.
“I need to talk to you,” he said.
“Well, I didn’t think you’d come out here just to turn back again.”
The gruffness came as no surprise, but in spite of it, Tuomas noticed her eyes were glazed, as though she was struggling to keep tears at bay. He hadn’t been sure of what he had expected to find when he reached her, but it wasn’t this.
“You know what’s going on, don’t you?” he asked, keeping his voice low.
A muscle twitched in Lilja’s jaw. She glanced around to make sure nobody was within earshot, then leaned close to him.
“Listen, I need to ask you something. How did you know I had anything to do with it?”
“I went into a trance and spoke with the Sun Spirit,” Tuomas explained. “She said to come looking for you.”
Lilja’s brows slanted into a frown. “Wait. You spoke with the Sun Spirit? You managed to do that?”
“Yes…” Tuomas said slowly. “What’s the matter?”
“Because I can’t connect with any of the Spirits. Neither can my father,” said Lilja.
Tuomas’s eyes widened. “Henrik couldn’t, either. What does that mean?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted.
“But you do know about the sickness?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“The Sun Spirit told me it’s a soul plague. She said it’s being caused by something not alive, but not dead either.”
Lilja turned her head away and a shudder passed through her body. At her sides, her fingers curled into tense fists.
Tuomas regarded her cagily. He knew Henrik was wrong, that she hadn’t done anything wicked; but the way she held herself reminded him of when he had first met her. When she was carrying the heavy truth about Kari just below the surface.
She let out a sharp exhale and her shoulders slumped.
“Fine. I’ll fetch you later, when everyone’s asleep,” she whispered. “Just you.”
“Why not Elin?” asked Tuomas.
“Because I said so,” Lilja snapped.
She strode off, ducked into her tent and pulled the flap firmly shut behind her.
To keep himself occupied, Tuomas offered to do all he could to help with preparing dinner, but everyone insisted he and Elin rest. He didn’t argue; it was a custom among their people to always be hospitable to travellers. Indeed, when the two of them had come to Poro earlier that winter, Enska had immediately taken them in.
But he couldn’t help but notice the shower of quick glances; the way the young children stepped closer to their parents before coughing overtook them. The heaviness of their eyes was everywhere, like a current invisible in the breadth of the sea, but there nonetheless, tugging at all it touched.
He perched on the edge of his sleigh and stared into the darkness. He recalled when he had met these people, Lumi beside him in her human form. It didn’t matter that he didn’t have snowy skin, pointed ears or a fox tail. They had stared at her then in the same way they stared at him now.
In an instant, he remembered the cynical truth of Lilja’s words from what seemed like a lifetime ago.
“People find out you’re linked to the Bear and you can kiss a normal life goodbye.”
He sat next to Elin as everybody tucked into the evening meal. She had given over the ptarmigan as a gift, and it was received warmly, Enska heaping his portion with dried lingonberries. Lilja came out for a few meagre mouthfuls, then immediately went back to her tent without a word. Nobody seemed shocked by it – Tuomas supposed her old habits of keeping to herself hadn’t worn off.
When dinner was finished and the fire cleared, he crawled into the shelter, followed closely by Elin. She lay awake coughing for several minutes, but finally her breathing became laboured as slumber dragged her under. The sound was awful, like a pair of hands were clasped around her throat.
Tuomas didn’t dare close his eyes for fear of falling asleep. He stared at the fire; then at the smoke hole; then began counting the fibres of fur on his sleeping sack – anything to keep his attention. Eventually, he grabbed a needle and sinew thread and started sewing the gaps in the hide.
After what felt like an age, a shadow appeared on the tarp. Lilja pulled back the flap, a torch in her hand. She threw a glance at Elin to check she was asleep, then jerked her head, motioning for him to follow her.
Tuomas tied on his shoes and crept outside. Lilja strode to the edge of the camp, in the opposite direction to the slumbering herd. Several pairs of skis were sticking out of the snow. She knocked a couple down, slid them onto her feet and tossed another pair to him.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“Not far.”
Grasping the torch and a ski pole in one hand, she walked off, following the path of churned show made by hundreds of reindeer hooves. Tuomas hurried to keep pace with her.
“Are we going back to Poro?” he asked in surprise.
“Not quite.” Lilja glanced at him. “I heard you ran off to the World Above?”
“Just for a little while.”
“So now you’ve walked in all three of the Worlds. Impressive.”
Tuomas widened his strides to prevent himself from falling behind. He’d never known her move so fast. There was an agitation to her gait, as though she wanted nothing more than to turn back the way they’d come and not take another step. And yet she forced herself onward, to get it over with as quickly as she could.
“How have you been?” he asked. “I noticed you made yourself a new drum.”
“What’s a mage without one?” she replied. “It didn’t take too long. Father helped me.”
“Are you working with him now?”
“Yes, but he’s still the Poro mage. He did originally offer the position to me, but I told him not to push it. I think it’s enough that I’m home without expecting too much.”
Tuomas glanced at her drum. It was hard to see the details in the darkness, but whenever she moved her left leg, it swung into the flickering torchlight and the skin glowed orange. It was roughly the same size as her old one, with the central symbol of the Great Bear Spirit. He recognised other pictures which she had recreated: herself as a child with the Bear appearing in her breath; a little boy on a frozen lake; the day she had assisted in Tuomas’s birth. Around the edges, she had painted a new series of interlocking spirals and waving lines, and a small smile crossed his face. Those were the Lights – a silent yet powerful reference to the time spent with Lumi.
“How long have you not been able to go into trance?” he asked.
“Just before the migration started,” Lilja said. “You say it’s the same with Henrik?”
“Yes. But not me.”
“I wonder why that is.”
Her words dripped with sarcasm. Tuomas leaned forward to catch her eye.
“What do you mean?”
“Use your brain. Have you noticed you’re the only youngster who isn’t coughing? And the only mage who can still connect with the Spirits?” Lilja cocked an eyebrow at him. “Work it out, Son of the Sun. You’re a Spirit yourself. Of course it’s not going to affect you.”
Tuomas’s brows rose. That made perfect sense. His taika was powerful; it would be no surprise if his souls were also strong enough to repel the sickness.
They dropped into single file to ascend a hill, struggling to manoeuvre their skis up the slope. When they reached the top, Tuomas bent his knees and went to slide down, but Lilja threw one of her poles across his body to stop him.
“No further,” she said. Her voice was strained.
Tuomas frowned. “What’s the matter?”
She didn’t look at him. Her eyes were fixed straight ahead. Even in the low light, they shone with unshed tears.
Tuomas peered at the landscape below. The ground was cut by a giant lake, its icy top glimmering under the silvery glow of the Moon Spiri
t. A thick mist hung across it, just like at the Mustafjord.
He shuddered. Even compared to the quietness of the tundra, this was completely different. There was something not right here… something lurking and inhuman. Even the Spirit of the Lake seemed to have fled from it.
He spoke quietly, scared to break the silence.
“What is this place?”
“The Nordjarvi. This is where the mist first appeared,” Lilja replied. “And… where my son died.”
Chapter Eleven
Tuomas dug his poles into the snow to keep himself from falling over.
“You have a son?” he gasped.
“Had a son,” Lilja corrected.
She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and looked straight at him.
“I’ve brought you here in confidence. I want it kept that way. Do you understand?”
She didn’t blink. All the blood was drained from her cheeks. Tuomas had never seen her like this, not even when Kari had come up in conversation. It was as though cracks had appeared in her quiet strength, and the slightest breath of wind would blow away whatever remained.
He was so shocked; he simply gave a wooden nod.
Lilja held his eyes for a moment longer, then turned away. She stared at the lake, a million emotions fleeting across her face. On her ski poles, her hands trembled.
Tuomas swallowed anxiously. “I never knew you were a mother.”
“My father is the only one still living who does. Apart from you, now,” she replied.
“Well… was it the sickness?”
“No, it was long before all this started. Ten years ago, back when I was still wandering with Kari.”
She kicked her feet out of the skis and knelt in the snow. Tuomas followed suit. It was bitingly cold, but Lilja barely seemed to notice.
“We were travelling around the north to do trade and healing. The last winter had been a harsh one; we needed to go among the people more than usual. And…well, things happened while we were there. And nine months later, I had a baby.”
Her expression softened as she looked back into her memories.
“Aki was his name. He was born just after the end of the Long Dark. We raised him together, Kari and I. We taught him about the Spirits, how to look after himself, how to build fires and make crafts. He was a quick learner. And he had such powerful taika… he used to watch us as we drummed, and I always thought he could see through it as easily as I could. Kari said to me once, ‘he’s going to make an incredible mage one day, Lilja. He will be great.’”
Tuomas shuffled and his eyes shifted to her neck. The light was low, but he could see the line of pink scar tissue stretching across her windpipe. It was somewhat disconcerting to hear her speak of Kari like this, after everything he’d done, after all the pain he’d put both of them through. An image of her brother formed in Tuomas’s mind and he quickly forced it away.
Lilja stroked her drum and carried on speaking.
“Kari was like a father to him. His real father wasn’t with us, after all. It was just the three of us.”
“Didn’t you marry?” Tuomas asked.
“No. It just happened one night. Nothing else came of it.”
“Then… who was Aki’s father?”
“That doesn’t matter,” Lilja said tersely. “Kari and I were good enough to him. We were all he needed.”
She paused for a moment, still staring out over the Nordjarvi.
“One day… at this time of year, to be exact… we were on our way to Poro to do some trading, before they all left for the migration. And I wanted my father to meet his grandson. But it got late, so we set up camp here, on the lakeshore. Poro isn’t very far; we would have reached it the next morning. We did some ice-fishing, caught some char, then we went to bed.
“And in my dreams, I knew something was wrong. I could sense something I hadn’t before. There were things in the lake, and they knew we were there. And they resented us.”
She looked at Tuomas. “Have you ever heard of draugars?”
He swallowed. “The Sun Spirit mentioned them.”
“They’re monsters. They hate everything living, anything which can draw breath, because they can’t. Especially children, because they have the most life left to live. And even more so if the child has strong taika. They feed off youth and power; the younger you are, the more they crave you. And the greater your taika, the greater the danger becomes. If they sense someone like that, they strike.”
“That’s why they keep coming back,” Tuomas realised. “Henrik told me the mist returns once every generation and makes the youngsters sick.”
“I know,” said Lilja sadly. “Making mist is a way they ensnare their prey. You get lost in it and then it chokes you, from the soul outward. That’s how they survive: they devour the souls first; stop them from passing on, and then, if they can, they’ll go after the body as well. A few weeks ago, there were three children playing down there on the ice. My father heard a commotion, so he ran up to this hill to see. By the time he got here, it was too late.”
Tuomas’s blood ran cold. He recalled the three souls which had been ripped out of Lumi’s grasp. They had to be from the children Lilja spoke of.
“Lilja,” he said, “the Sun Spirit told me to be careful. That they would come after my taika if they could.”
Lilja looked at him hard. “I can see that. You need to listen to her. These things are dangerous. I know that better than anyone else.”
“What are they? Demons?”
“No. But neither are they people or animals.”
“Then… are they alive?”
“I’m not sure what you would call them. They exist in the cracks between the Worlds; neither of one or the other. They can move through waters as mages can learn how to walk through fire. It doesn’t matter how far away you go from one lake or river. If they want you, they will follow you to another.”
Tuomas shook his head. “How can you know so much about them? Henrik said he’s the last one still alive who remembers the last time.”
“Why do you think I started visiting the World Below in the first place?” Lilja answered. “The Earth Spirits know more about them than I do. I’ve lost count of how many times I went to the Northern Edge of the World; how often I jumped down there, all so I could learn about draugars from them. But nothing they told me could reverse what happened.”
She paused, biting back tears, then collected herself and carried on. Her eyes hardened with every word.
“The night we were camping here, I woke up, and draugars had come into the tent. I don’t know how many; it felt like hundreds. They were holding us down, me and Kari, we couldn’t move. But they weren’t there for us. I screamed for Aki, but I already knew they had him outside. I could hear them luring him away towards the water.
“Somehow, Kari managed to get his drum. He hit it and sent out a shockwave; all the draugars went flying off us. We ran out… I could see Aki by the ice-fishing hole, surrounded by them. They’d sensed his taika. They had him by the hands and feet, whispering to him, trying to make him come with them…”
She screwed her eyes shut, but forced herself to go on.
“We couldn’t get to him in time. They dragged him through the hole.”
Tuomas stared at her in horror. Tears rolled down her face and she gasped back a sob before it could overwhelm her.
“But that wasn’t the worst thing,” she said. “I refused to leave the camp. I couldn’t get his voice out of my head. I was determined to make the wicked things suffer for what they’d done. So, while Kari was out hunting one day, I sat by the ice and started to drum. I challenged the draugars to come to me, to either return Aki or… to take me as well.”
“You wanted to die?” Tuomas breathed.
“At that point, I would have welcomed it,” Lilja admitted. “You see, draugars will only make a deal if they feel the exchange is equal. You need to offer something worth just as much as what they’ve already taken. But, in my heart,
I knew they wouldn’t take me in his place. Why would they? It didn’t matter that I had strong taika – Aki’s had the potential to be just as strong, and I was older; there was less life to give.
"So I used the whole thing as cover for another plan. If I couldn’t make a deal, I’d have revenge. Behind me, I lit a fire and laid a torch in it. I felt one of them coming towards me. When it got close enough, I put down my drum, grabbed the torch, and shoved the burning end into its face.”
Her lip quivered. “But then I actually looked at it… and it wasn’t a draugar at all. It was my Aki.”
Tuomas’s pulse raced with shock.
“Was he… still alive?”
“Before or after I burned him?” Lilja said. Her dry tone told him she didn’t expect an answer.
She pointed to a spot on the bank, not far from the ice.
“He just lay there, screaming, asking me why I’d hurt him so much,” she said, her voice cracking. “I tried to apologise, to try and help him – I was so desperate, I started rubbing snow over the blisters to take the heat out of them. It didn’t do anything. And then mist started pouring out of him… and the draugars came back, beat me down, dragged him away again. That was the last time I ever saw him. My beautiful little boy.”
She sniffed hard. Her eyes looked as though a thin fabric had stretched across them, delicate as a moth’s wing but stronger than stone.
Tuomas watched her carefully. His tongue felt too large for his mouth; he didn’t want to speak in case the wrong words came tumbling out. But he could tell from Lilja’s face that there was more to the story, and as he recalled Elin’s nightmare, he had an inkling of what it was.
He glanced at the tendrils of mist curling over the lake.
“It’s not just the draugars in there, is it?” he asked.
Lilja shook her head. “He’s allied with them. Do you know what happens when the illness infects a child? They see him in their dreams. He sends the draugars into their minds. I’ve heard them crying about a little boy in the night and nobody knows what it means, except me and Enska.”
She let out a shuddering breath.
