The Mist Children

by E. C. Hibbs

  He nodded to let her know he was ready. She stepped away to give him room, then he gritted his teeth and began drumming.

  He listened to the beat, letting his arm do what it wanted, striking out a tune which would capture the fire. When he felt it in his bones, he started chanting. First, he released a stream of simple sound and allowed it to move and change as needed, echoing the drum, leaping and diving like a living thing. With every breath, he felt warmth growing within him; summer light on water, ripe lingonberry and the subtle fragrance of heather.

  The taika swelled and his souls began to loosen inside him. He didn’t fight it, just carried on chanting and beating, rising higher…

  He moved towards the fire. The heat instantly shot through his leg and he recoiled with a yelp.

  “Don’t stop,” Lilja said, somewhere close yet far away. “Keep going. You’re the Son of the Sun, remember… harness that!”

  Her words struck him deep and cut through the spinning sounds. Of course he was the Son of the Sun. He bore the Golden One’s power, entwined with his own taika, lending him a strength unheard of among mages. No temperature was too hot. No flames could harm him.

  He suddenly remembered hanging before his celestial mother, cocooned in her warmth, and it hadn’t hurt. At first, he was blinded, but then he had been able to look at her, as none other could.

  He held onto that feeling and wove it into his chant like the strands of a braid. He spun it around himself, lifting it, letting it flow and pulse and breathe. The drum vibrated in his hands, the symbols leapt from its skin and danced with him as he pictured that other fire; as he strode forward, first one foot, then the other.

  He opened his eyes. The last note cut off abruptly as he looked around, stunned. Lilja was standing almost thirty feet away, highlighted only by the flickering flames beside her.

  He stared at his drum, then at the fire.

  “I did it,” he said in amazement. “I did it!”

  Lilja walked over to him. Her eyes shone with pride.

  “Well done,” she said. “It took me a lot longer than that to get the hang of it.”

  Tuomas beamed at her. “Thank you so much for teaching me that!”

  “Well, it seems to have put a smile back on your face, at least,” she said, and elbowed him fondly. “There isn’t really anything else I can say to instruct you in this. Keep practising if you want, but I’m going to get some sleep. We’ve got a long day tomorrow. And I really do need some time to myself now. No offence.”

  “None taken,” Tuomas said.

  Lilja headed back towards the tents, tying her drum onto her belt in mid-stride.

  Overhead, the Moon Spirit stared at him, her pale light growing as she turned her face towards the Northlands. Beside her, in the distance, a faint green glow appeared. As Tuomas watched, it grew brighter and spread through the night. He imagined movement within its depths: a dancing white fox, sweeping the sky with her tail.

  He knelt beside the fire and stared into its flickering depths. There were flames in the sky tonight, as well as down here.

  A sudden idea came to him. If he had walked through it unburned, and his taika was starting to shield him from the elements…

  He pulled back his sleeve so his forearm was exposed, closed his eyes, and moved his hand towards the smouldering logs. His skin prickled, protesting the heat, but he held his nerve. Then, as quickly as it had come, the pain disappeared and he was left with only a comfortable stroking sensation along his flesh.

  He inched his eyes open and gasped with delight.

  His entire hand was in the fire. It was waving under his palm and between his fingers like water. His taika encased him like a glove, protecting him, creating a barrier between his body and the flame. It was a part of his power over which he had no control; it was deeper than instinct, beyond anything physical, as though his life-soul itself had spread out across his skin.

  He pulled his hand free and inspected it. There wasn’t a single mark or blister; his skin wasn’t even reddened.

  An elated laugh burst from his lips. He turned around, hoping Lilja was still there, but she had disappeared inside. He could see her silhouette sitting opposite Enska in his tent.

  “Did you see that?” he cried to the aurora.

  Lumi didn’t reply; there was no sound from her at all. But he could have sworn the Lights danced a little faster.

  He ran back to the camp, taking the long way around to avoid going close to the bodies, and went straight to a sleigh which was still heaped with supplies. After a few moments of rummaging, he found what he was looking for: a pouch of peeled alder bark.

  He returned to the fire and bent close to it so he could see what he was doing. Then he drew a knife from his belt and chopped the bark as finely as he could upon a stone. Finally, he spat on it and used a finger to mix it all together until it formed a dark red paste.

  He dipped the knife’s point into it, laid the drum over his lap, and began drawing directly onto the skin. He worked with care, so the tip wouldn’t puncture it. Close to the symbol of the Great Bear Spirit in the centre, he sketched a series of spirals and lines. Every now and then, he paused to look up at the Lights and copied their swirling formations. He brought the lines into a point, and from there, dragged out the shape of a running fox with the aurora bursting from its tail.

  He glanced towards Enska’s tent. Lilja had similar patterns to this on her drum – he remembered seeing them when she took him to the Nordjarvi. Recalling that moment, of how she had entrusted him with her darkest secret, brought a new wave of respect. They had only known each other for this one winter, yet already they had saved each other numerous times.

  He dipped the knife into the alder bark juice again and drew in an empty spot of skin close to the edge. After a few calculated strokes, the image of a woman appeared, the Great Bear’s head hovering over her.

  He grinned at his handiwork. Now he would have his sister and his mentor with him always, here on his drum.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The sight was wondrous to behold. There her brother sat, his hand in the flames as she could extend her own into the Lights. The orange tongues surrounded him and yet he was unburned. He cried out in excitement, his eyes turned to the sky, and she spun on the spot so he could see her.

  It had barely been two weeks since he had left the World Above, but she already missed him so much. How could it have been that she managed fifteen years like this, watching from afar as his human body grew and matured around his sparkling soul? Even when she had walked beside him in that single form, how had she found the strength to keep the truth secret?

  No matter who he was or what form he took, he shone. Finally, he was looking inside himself and seeing what she had known since the beginning of time. It grew like fire, danced within him: her opposite equal.

  Her entire aurora blazed with every colour imaginable. She was no longer annoyed at him for pulling away from her, or even for tearing the skin between the Worlds. It was small enough; after his task was repeated, he could repair that with a flick of his wrist. And she would help him.

  He finished painting his drum and blew on the skin so the alder mixture would dry quicker. Then he held it close to the fire to tighten it again, took his hammer and started to strike out a rhythm. It started soft, barely audible, then became soft and flowing. It was the sound of the Lights themselves, and he didn’t try to make it anything else. She felt the rhythm mixing with his taika, forming a link between the two of them which stretched beyond the Worlds. Tuomas let the rhythm do what it wanted, and she watched it ease his souls apart. One of them remained in his body, to keep him breathing and drumming, while the other one soared upwards until he was floating in the blissful dark.

  She reached out to him with a touch lighter than snowflakes. He felt her and smiled.

  Lumi! he cried. Did you see! Tell me you saw that! I walked through the fire, then put my hand straight into it, and I wasn’t even burned!

&
nbsp; I know, she replied, the Lights brightening with her pride. She moved her tail and swept them into a moving cloak.

  He held onto her and spun around so fast, the stars were transformed into a whirlpool of white. Then he paused and looked at her anxiously.

  The Moon Spirit isn’t here, is she? he asked quietly.

  No, she assured him. And I will not let her come near you.

  Thank you, he said. Lumi, listen… I wanted to ask you something. When I put my hand in the fire just now, it didn’t hurt at all. I’ve been getting more used to the cold too, but the fire felt different. Why is that? Does it have something to do with my power?

  Something? she repeated. It has everything to do with it. Have you not realised yet what you are the Spirit of?

  He stared at her, first in confusion, then in alarm.

  Fire? he gasped.

  She smiled again. Yes, Red Fox One. You are the Spirit of the Flames. I thought you might have figured that out by now.

  I didn’t… Why didn’t you tell me?

  Because with every day that passes, you come into your power more and more. If you had tried to put your hand in a fire just a few weeks ago, it would have burned you, just as being out in a blizzard would have frozen you. You have already suffered frostbite; you were not always immune to the elements. But now, the Spirit in you is growing.

  She held him tightly to her. Tuomas, if only you could see what I see. The light of your soul, it is so bright. It is like the Sun Spirit upon the earth.

  Tuomas grinned. There was no physical body before her; no face or mouth, but she felt his excitement coursing through the air like electricity.

  So, can I control fire? he asked. Like you can control the aurora?

  In his words, she sensed how much he had been amazed and terrified of her ability to shoot the Lights from her hands.

  You must control your taika before you attempt it, she warned. You are still in a human body. Take it slowly.

  Slowly, he repeated. But I can do it?

  In time, with practise, I see no reason why not, she said. But that should not be your first concern now.

  As she spoke, Tuomas glanced back at the World Below. She followed his gaze, past the coast and further into the tundra, where Einfjall sat in the middle of the freezing whiteness. The mountain behind it was banked with snow which had blown in on the blizzards. And to the north, it lay so thick that it looked as though several avalanches had fallen on top of each other. The Northern Edge of the World was hardly visible at all.

  She felt Tuomas’s heart sink.

  How am I supposed to get through that? he asked miserably. Could I split it, like I did with the avalanche?

  Perhaps, she said. You need to go there.

  I know. And I will. But… He paused and looked at her. If I corner the draugars, will that free everyone they’ve trapped?

  Her Lights pulsed at the thought. To be able to rescue all those poor lost souls, let them come to her at last…

  I do not know, she admitted.

  She sensed the fear racing through him and pulled him close; colder than ice and softer than a feather.

  His thoughts raced. Well, is there any way I can save them before I do anything? Get them away from the draugars and set them free?

  I wish I could tell you there was, but I do not know.

  They spun together through the shifting colours. The World Below tipped underneath them. Gravity had no meaning; only the sky, stretching on forever, surrounded by starlight.

  Lumi, Tuomas said, do you know anything about Aki at all? Why would he ally with the draugars? Lilja said it was to hurt her and make us all useless…

  She looked straight at him. Do you truly think any mage would voluntarily ally with those creatures? Even the demon-mage would have known better than that.

  The mention of Kari sent a shudder through Tuomas, but he pushed it away and clutched tightly at her.

  Are you saying he didn’t go willingly?

  Of course I am, she replied. He was all of five years old. Why would you ever assume he would have chosen to leave his mother and uncle?

  Tuomas stiffened in alarm. Lilja thinks it’s to hurt her. To make all the mages feel powerless…

  He is not the one who sends the sickness, she insisted. The draugars are; they are only using him. How can you not see that? None of the mages they took ever went willingly. They were children. They were all so young.

  He hesitated for a moment, hovering awkwardly in the air as his emotions swam about him in a current.

  Lumi, he said, is Aki’s father with you in the Lights?

  She waved around him. No. He is still alive. And within your midst.

  He’s here? Tuomas blurted. I mean… in one of those tents, down there?

  Yes.

  Who is it? he asked. Please, tell me.

  I do not know who it is, she admitted. I have watched you, my brother, every night of your life. But only you. And while I know every single soul I care for, I only come to know them after the Spirit of Passage brings them to me. Those who are still living… I do not know. The only one who can tell you is Lilja.

  Tuomas sank despondently. She won’t tell me.

  Does the father truly matter? she asked. No father will stop the draugars, or bring Aki back, or any of the others.

  I know, but something just doesn’t feel right about all this.

  Well, you can do nothing about anything at the moment. You should go back, catch your rest while you can.

  I don’t want to, Tuomas said. His soul sparkled so brightly, it reflected in her Lights like the dawn upon a sheet of ice. I want to stay here for a while… just a little while. Everything’s so different down there now. And I miss you, Lumi. This place is home just as much as Akerfjorden is; you’re my sister as much as Paavo is my brother. Let me stay with you again.

  There was such earnest longing in his voice, she might have fallen apart from it were she not already unbound. She twirled around him and sent out a new stream of the aurora. It cascaded through the sky and spread so wide, even the stars were lost among its waving green glow.

  I miss you, too, she replied, with the softness that only he could bring to her silent voice. There are nights when I almost wish I was with you down there again, running through the snow. But for now… one dance.

  Tuomas smiled. Perfect.

  They spun through the darkness. First, she was an orb, then a white fox, and finally the girl he remembered, but never completely solid. It was as though she were made of light itself, of air given shape, bound together by pure energy. The night sang of power and joy, and she found herself wishing it was somehow still the Long Dark, when one night – one dance – could last for more than an entire month.

  Tuomas woke with a jolt, unable to remember when he had even fallen asleep. The last thing he could recall was running through the sky with Lumi. But now he was in a tent, covered with skins and blankets, and through bleary eyes, he saw movement across the fire as people pulled on their clothes.

  Someone booted him softly in the ribs.

  “Come on, let’s get moving.”

  He recognised the voice immediately. “Sigurd?”

  “Yes, it’s me. I found you half-asleep all by yourself out there. You ought to be careful; you don’t want to get frostbite again.”

  A tiny smirk formed at the corner of Tuomas’s mouth.

  “I don’t think I need to worry about that anymore.”

  “Well, you should know better than to tempt fate,” Sigurd shot back. “Now, come on. We need to go.”

  Tuomas sat up. Sigurd and Alda were already tying their sealskin shoes closed and pulling on hats. In a sleeping sack beside them was Elin, still dressed in her warm clothes. The only difference was her hair: Alda must have untied her braid the night before to brush it out.

  Tuomas stared. He’d never seen Elin with her hair down before. Even as she lay there, it framed her face, and its black shine made her look whiter than the snow.

>   He shuffled over and helped Alda lift her while Sigurd pulled the sleeping sack from around her legs. She groaned at the movement and her head fell back onto Tuomas’s shoulder. She squinted up at him.

  “I’m fine,” she said.

  Tuomas couldn’t help smiling, though it came out as more of a grimace.

  “Liar.”

  “I can walk. Just watch me.”

  She pushed him off and got to her feet before anyone could stop her. But she had barely taken her own weight before she staggered and snatched hold of one of the tent poles.

  Sigurd leapt after her and caught her by the elbows.

  “Hey, take it easy,” he snapped. “Sit down.”

  “I’m fine!” she protested.

  “Elin,” Tuomas said. “You’re not fine. Please stop.”

  With a shuddering sigh, she relented, and allowed herself to be lowered back onto the skins. Alda quickly combed through her hair with her fingers, then wove it into a braid with practised ease. As her mother worked, Elin reached for her bow and cradled it against her chest. Finally, Sigurd carried her outside.

  Tuomas helped to pull the tent down, folding the tarp as small as it could go and binding the poles together in bundles. Then everything was packed away, taking up as little space as possible. Most of the sleighs and shelters were being left behind on the shore. There was no way they could be carried across the water, and turfed huts lay in wait on the islands themselves, more than suitable for the summer which lay ahead. The tents were only for travelling – they would keep until the autumn, when the time came to return to the winter camps. The only sleighs coming to the coast were those carrying the children. To try and save as much space as possible, the youngsters were laid in groups of three, tucked close together to keep warm.

  When he was done, Tuomas hurried over to Lilja and Enska, who were busy striking their own tent. Lilja looked so harassed; she hadn’t even stopped put her hair into its braids.

  “I have something to tell you,” he said.

  “Can it wait?” she asked as she pulled down two poles at once.