The Mist Children

by E. C. Hibbs

  With no more room in the sleighs due to the sick children, those who walked took turns riding on the runners. Everyone stayed clear of the small sleigh though, which hung behind at the tail end of the formation. It was the one Tuomas and Elin had arrived in. Now, it carried Eevi’s body, wrapped in a single blanket for modesty. The rest of the layers had been taken from her and given to the other youngsters in a desperate bid to keep them warm.

  Akerfjorden and Einfjall must have noticed them approaching, because their herds drew to a halt and waited for Poro to catch up. After almost a full day of walking, they met. The reindeer hurried to the exposed grazing and tore mouthfuls of moss from the rock. After walking constantly for almost two weeks, they had finally found plentiful food.

  Leaders and mages from the three villages swarmed together. Tuomas’s heart swelled to see them again. It felt like years since he’d last spoken with someone from Akerfjorden. He waited for Lilja to join them, but she kept her distance and hurried away, leaving Enska alone to represent Poro. Henrik shot a suspicious glare at her.

  Aino, the Einfjall mage, noticed Tuomas and dropped into a low bow. A teenager at her back quickly did the same. Tuomas fought the urge to cringe.

  “It’s good to see you,” said Aino. “You managed to put the Spirit of the Lights back, then.”

  “In the end,” Tuomas admitted. “Thank you so much for everything. We never would have managed it without your help.”

  “And the wicked mage is gone.”

  “Yes. That too.”

  Aino noticed his discomfort and quickly changed the subject, ushering the teenager forward. She was a few years older than him, short and stocky like Lilja, with a head of thick red hair which hung loose around her face.

  “This is my apprentice, Niina,” Aino said. “I’m sorry you didn’t get a chance to meet her when you stayed with us. Niina, this is the Son of the Sun.”

  “Tuomas,” he said quietly.

  Niina immediately lowered her head. “It’s an honour to meet you.”

  “And you,” he replied, “but please, call me Tuomas. I insist.”

  He threw a pointed glance at Aino, Maiken, and the other leaders; then let it rest. Everyone looked too exhausted to get into this topic now.

  “How was the journey?” Anssi asked. “Uneventful, I hope?”

  “Hardly,” Enska replied. “I suppose I don’t have to ask whether the sickness has struck you as well?”

  Aino and Henrik nodded.

  “Any losses?”

  “Unfortunately, yes,” said Maiken softly. “Two from Einfjall and one from Akerfjorden.”

  Tuomas held a hand to his mouth. “Who?”

  “Jaana. Hekla and Jorn’s little girl,” Sisu said. “Hekla’s got it too.”

  Tuomas looked away sadly. He remembered Jaana being born six years ago; the way she had sat entranced by Aslak’s scary story at the start of the migration. She had once wandered into Tuomas’s tent and claimed Paavo’s cooking was better than her mother’s. As for Hekla, she was the same age as Paavo: only twenty-five.

  The emotions on his face must have been easy to read, because Sisu approached and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. His eyes were heavy – from tiredness or sadness, Tuomas couldn’t tell.

  “Your brother’s fine,” Sisu assured. “So is Mihka.”

  “Are they any better?” Tuomas asked, though he already knew the answer.

  Sisu pressed his lips together grimly. “They’re holding on.”

  “Can I see them?”

  “Last I checked, they were both sleeping. Leave them be for now; they didn’t rest easy on the way here.”

  “Are they still drinking the tea?”

  “We ran out of herbs,” Niina said in a wretched voice.

  “I’ve got a few left,” Enska volunteered. “Not many, but enough for anyone who’s really suffering. I’ll brew them when we stop.”

  “Well, we may as well stop here,” suggested Anssi. “The coast is just there; we can cross to Anaar first thing tomorrow. Everyone needs to rest.”

  Tuomas nodded in agreement. No migration was easy, but this one had to be the most gruelling any generation would have faced. Everywhere he looked, he saw fatigued faces; people dragged their feet and leaned on each other for support. They had all lost weight, and even those who weren’t ill had felt the effects of caring for their loved ones. Tuomas had never seen them so dejected.

  “We’ll set up camp, then, before we lose the light,” said Maiken. “Let’s go and tell them to stop.”

  She and the other leaders headed towards the front of the herd, where it would be easier to draw attention. Grateful for the opportunity to be alone, Tuomas left Enska to retrieve the nettle and angelica and wandered over to the unpacked sleighs. He rummaged in a sealskin pouch until he found a tiny piece of jerky and half-heartedly chewed it.

  He drew in a deep breath and relished the briny smell on the air. Even though they were in the north, it felt a little warmer with the sea so near. He glanced at the glittering water, the shores of Anaar tantalising close on the other side. Journey’s end was in sight, mere miles away, and tomorrow, they would be there.

  It was almost over.

  That thought brought the weight of everything crashing down as though a blizzard had engulfed him. It pulled at him from every angle and refused to let him go. In a flash, he remembered the draugars snarling at him through the shield; Lilja’s face when she spoke about Aki; the sound of Elin’s cough mixing with Eevi and Tarvo and Mihka and Paavo…

  And then there was the Great Bear Spirit. He could still feel the sensation of it brushing against him: the touch of a million stars and all the mysteries which held them together.

  That was the heaviest of all. He let out a whimper and covered his head with his hands.

  He heard footsteps crunching through the snow. It was staggered, hobbling, and he recognised it without even needing to look up.

  “Hello, boy,” Henrik said. His voice was weary, truly showing his age.

  Tuomas turned to him. Over his shoulder, the tents were going up and the soft orange glow of fires reflected off the snow. It was not a moment too soon. The daylight was quickly fading even though it was only mid-afternoon, and the first stars were already beginning to appear, flanked by the silvery face of the Moon Spirit. By the time the last tarp was tied, night would be upon them.

  The air was filled with coughing. Tuomas’s eyes fleeted over Eevi’s corpse and he bit his lip to keep himself from crying. He could still hear her mother’s scream echoing in his head.

  “We’re here now. No need to worry about panic on the migration,” he said. “Henrik, the people aren’t stupid. They’ll have figured out it’s not just a cold by now. We need to be honest with them. They need to know it’s a soul plague.”

  Henrik shuffled. “I have been getting questions about that. I thought it best to leave it until all the villages were together.” He ran a hand over his drum for comfort. “I’ll speak with the other mages and leaders again tonight. Then maybe we can tell everyone tomorrow, when we get to Anaar.”

  “Fine,” Tuomas said.

  Henrik quickly changed the subject. “I hope Lilja told you how we’re supposed to stop this sickness. And don’t say it has anything to do with draugars.”

  “It does. I saw them.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Henrik,” Tuomas said firmly, “I saw them. We went past a lake and they all came slithering out of the water. The only reason nobody got hurt was because I put up a shield.”

  Henrik opened his mouth, then closed it again and shook his head, as though trying to shake something off.

  “Well, then… are the Poro children having nightmares, too? About a little boy? What does she know of that?”

  Tuomas gathered the hem of his coat in his hand and twisted it.

  “It’s just a way they’re tormenting the kids,” he said quickly. “She’s spoken with the Earth Spirits about it. I’m going to go
to the Northern Edge as soon as I can and stop the draugars with their help.”

  Tuomas went to walk away, but Henrik blocked his path and grasped his elbow so he couldn’t leave.

  “That’s all you have to say?” He leaned closer to whisper. “What does she have to do with it?”

  Tuomas stepped back. “Nothing!”

  “Are you sure? Who’s the boy?”

  “Of course I’m sure! She’d never hurt anyone! Please, Henrik, leave me alone now!”

  Tuomas wrenched himself free and stormed off through the maze of tents. He was so furious, he didn’t look where he was going, and ran straight into someone.

  He cried out in shock and flew backwards into the snow.

  A man turned around, regarding him with annoyance. But as soon as Tuomas saw him, all the anger flew away. He carried an ash-wood bow across his back, and his face was weather-worn, framed by deep black hair cut into a fringe across his brow. It was the exact same shade and style as Elin’s.

  Tuomas scrambled to his feet.

  “Sigurd?”

  The man’s eyes brightened.

  “Tuomas! Oh, it’s so good to see you!” he said, in a deep voice which could rival Henrik’s. “Where have you been? We looked out for you when we joined with Akerfjorden.”

  “It’s a long story,” Tuomas admitted. “Is Elin back with you? Where’s Alda?”

  “I’m right here,” said a woman, shoving past Sigurd and throwing her arms around Tuomas. The force of the hug almost knocked the breath from his lungs, but it brought a wonderful comfort to feel her and catch the familiar smell of herbs on her clothes.

  In an instant, he was back in his sleeping sack in their hut, fresh from escaping Kari on the mountain. She had been there every time he had woken from the fever dreams, caring for him and wrapping bandages around his frostbitten hands. It hadn’t been for very long, but in that time, she had arguably become the closest to a human mother he’d ever known.

  When she finally let go of him, she moved her hands to his face.

  “You seem well, Tuomas,” she smiled fondly. “Are you not sick?”

  “No,” he replied. “I think I’m the only one left who isn’t.”

  “Lucky boy. Make sure you keep taking care of yourself. Whatever you’re doing is working.”

  “Don’t be silly,” said Sigurd. “He’s the Son of the Sun. That’s why he’s not sick.”

  Tuomas squirmed with unease, but Sigurd didn’t notice.

  “The things we’ve heard… You went to the World Above? And on the way here, you flung up a shield –”

  “Any mage can do that,” Tuomas insisted.

  Sigurd looked straight at him. “You split an avalanche.”

  Tuomas closed his eyes. “Yes, fine, I did.”

  “You saved everyone. All the reindeer, too. And those creatures… what were they? All the Poro people have been talking about it –”

  “Sigurd,” Tuomas said, “do you mind if we don’t talk about this right now? The Son of the Sun thing is all I’ve heard for weeks.”

  Sigurd frowned, but gave a gentle shrug. “Sure.” he said. “Your migration doesn’t sound much easier than ours. There have been some terrible storms near Einfjall in the past month. The snow’s come so thick, it’s completely blocked off the north.”

  “Can you still get to the Northern Edge?” Tuomas asked anxiously.

  “We couldn’t have even gotten to the shrine on the mountain, let alone the Northern Edge,” replied Sigurd. “It’s a good thing you and Lilja went to see the Earth Spirits when you did. If we went now, there’s no way we’d be able to reach the lake.”

  Tuomas’s heart sank like a stone. What was he supposed to do now?

  “Speaking of Lilja,” Sigurd continued, “is she here? We heard she’d gone back to Poro. I was hoping to speak to her, say sorry for telling her to leave.”

  “She’s…” Tuomas turned around to point her out, but she was nowhere to be seen. “She’s somewhere.”

  “Typical,” said Alda. “Don’t worry, Sigurd. You’ll find her soon enough.”

  Tuomas glanced over her shoulder at the nearest hut.

  “Are you staying in there?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Is Elin with you? I didn’t see where she was taken.”

  Sigurd nodded. “Enska and Aino brought her to us earlier. She’s asleep.”

  There was a darkness to his words. Tuomas could only imagine how hard it must be for the two of them. The last time they had seen their daughter, she had left Einfjall with him, almost two months ago. And now she returned to them at death’s door, a shadow of her former self.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. It was all he could think of.

  “Why are you sorry?” asked Alda. “It’s not your fault.”

  But Tuomas could only shake his head. He was sorry for everything. For not sending Elin straight back to them after Lumi was returned to the sky; for not being able to stop her getting ill; for too much for him to even name.

  Yet, despite it all, he saw from their eyes that the joy of seeing her again outweighed their worry. And that hurt him more than anything he could have said.

  Sigurd motioned towards the tent.

  “Do you want to come in and see her?”

  Tuomas stepped back. “No, not if she’s sleeping. Tell her I’ll visit tomorrow.”

  “Can we offer you any dinner? You can eat with us?”

  “No, thank you. Honestly. I think I need some time alone.”

  Alda nodded in understanding. “Fair enough. We won’t keep you.” She pulled him in for another hug. “Take care of yourself, Tuomas. We’ll see you in the morning.”

  They disappeared into the tent. Tuomas thought he heard a weak cough from inside before the flap fell down. He grimaced at the sound. It was probably just Elin turning over in her sleep, but unable to hear it a second time, he walked away.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Tuomas stayed out of the way until the last tent had been raised. He wandered across the plain, relishing the open space after the uneasy claustrophobia of the mountain pass. What little light there was reflected off the snow and sea, turning everything a faint blue-grey. He imagined the inky sky overhead as the ancient skull of the Great Bear Spirit, and all the stars looked down upon him in earnest.

  He inspected it closely. If he squinted enough, would he see the tear that he’d caused in the World Above?

  He lowered his head and gave himself a faint slap on the cheek.

  “Stop it,” he muttered. “It’s going to be fine.”

  He stared at the ground to distract himself. For the first time since the snows had fallen in the autumn, there was something other than white to see. Their details were lost in the darkness, but he still marvelled at the patches of heather and grass. At long last, life was returning. He pulled his mittens off to touch it, but was immediately nosed out of the way by a hungry reindeer.

  He chuckled to himself, then fetched the last sack of lichen and threw down what was left. There was no point carrying it over to Anaar, and the animals would need all the strength they could get. Tomorrow, they would swim across the water between here and the island.

  The reindeer nibbled at the lichen; some even took it from his hands. When the females came closer, he scratched their necks and silently congratulated them on making it this far. They truly were amazing creatures. They survived further north than any other, through the coldest winters and the most bitter blizzards. In summer, they tolerated the clouds of mosquitoes which spawned from the lakes. They were faultless, adapted perfectly for this harsh life. They were a source of everything: food, clothing, transport, milk… there was nothing they couldn’t give. Without them, the people would never have survived in the Northlands.

  When the sack was empty, he tossed it away, stroked the nearest reindeer around the ears, and wandered back into the camp. Nobody was left outside except him. Usually, a small group would take turns keeping watch for wolves, but they
had left the territories behind long ago.

  It was the largest collection of tents Tuomas had ever seen: three times the size of the typical Akerfjorden one. Each shelter was lit up from within by fires, and he could see the silhouettes of their occupants against the tarps, tucking into an early evening meal. Tuomas was glad they hadn’t decided to hold a communal feast. Everyone was far too tired – it could wait until they reached the island.

  He heard coughing from practically every tent, as well as the occasional worried sob as parents wept into their clothes. He recognised the sewn hide pattern on one and gently tapped a pole near the flap.

  “Who is it?” Sisu asked.

  “It’s Tuomas,” he replied.

  “Oh. Come in.”

  Tuomas pulled the flap aside and leaned through. Sisu was sitting on the opposite side of the fire, the bone beads on his tunic shining in the flickering light. Some of the threads had broken, so the pattern hardly resembled the waves of the Mustafjord anymore.

  Tuomas’s eyes went to the figure next to him. Mihka was curled up in his sleeping sack with one hand on his father’s lap. His eyes were closed and his mouth lolled open; Sisu had done his best to clean him, but tiny smears of blood were still visible around his lips. Even his white hair looked dead. The only way Tuomas could tell he was still alive was by the rise and fall of his chest.

  “How is he?” he asked in an undertone.

  Sisu regarded Mihka and gently stroked his head. “He’s fighting. Brave boy.”

  “Can he still walk?”

  “Yes, but I’ve told him not to if he can help it. I didn’t want him to suffer any more this winter.”

  “Neither did I,” Tuomas admitted.

  He reached to the back of his belt and pulled off the small sealskin pouch. He didn’t need to open it to feel the fox carving and imagine the strands of snowy hair.

  He bit his lip, but the tears came anyway. They dripped onto his coat and caught on the brown fur like rain.