by E. C. Hibbs
He wanted to say, no, it couldn’t. He wanted to tell her that he had discovered his Spirit power; that he had put his hand in the fire; marked her on his drum. More than anything, he wanted to tell her about Aki. But the moment he opened his mouth, no sound came out. This wasn’t the time. There was too much to do.
“Tell me when we get to the island,” Lilja said.
Tuomas nodded in assent and headed towards the Akerfjorden sleighs. Then Henrik approached with a scowl on his face.
“You didn’t come back last night,” he said.
“I know. I was speaking with Lilja. She’s agreed to be my mentor. And then I was drumming. I’m the only one who can still connect, aren’t I?”
“Mm,” muttered Henrik. “All the same, Paavo was asking after you.”
“How is he?” Tuomas asked.
In reply, Henrik tossed his head in the direction of the furthest sleigh. Aslak was hitching a reindeer to the poles at the front, and Paavo was inside, cocooned in layers. Two other young adults were next to him – Tuomas immediately recognised one of them as Hekla: Jaana’s mother. She looked a little better than Paavo, but dark circles had still formed under her eyes and there was a line of blood below her lips. Beneath the illness, her face was frozen with grief.
Tuomas gathered a quick breakfast of salmon cakes and stuffed one into his mouth before taking the others to the sleigh. He handed them out, giving the largest to Paavo.
“Running off again last night,” his brother wheezed.
“No, just staying outside,” Tuomas replied. “Can I get any of you anything?”
The three of them shook their heads. Tuomas quickly checked their temperatures and heartbeats. They were all horribly warm; their clammy skin stuck to his palm when he touched them. Their breaths came short and hurried, chests heaving as they worked to fill their lungs.
At the head of the herd, the village leaders let out a shout. It rang through the crisp air and the reindeer immediately began moving. The herders still on their feet walked beside the sleighs or slid forward on their skis.
Aslak gave the animal at the front of Paavo’s sleigh a quick smack on the rump. It jolted forward and Tuomas jumped onto the runners. He fixed his eyes on the sea and watched the fractured light dance across its surface. The shadow of Anaar turned dark blue in the growing dawn, the thin pine trees laced with ice crystals. He had never been so glad to see it.
The miles fell away, and before long, they arrived at the shore. The sea ice had melted with the Sun Spirit’s returning heat, and now only a few stubborn chunks still floated here and there. The waves lapped against the shingle, drawing in and out in a ghostly whisper.
Everyone worked together to fetch the boats which had been stored nearby from last autumn. After being checked for any damage, they were pushed into the water.
“Take the sick ones first,” Aino called so everyone could hear.
Everyone hurried to lift the youngsters out of the sleighs. They were carried over and laid at the backs of the boats, so the herders could sit in the middle to row. Tuomas helped Aslak move Paavo into one, then joined the crowd of people behind the herd. He watched as Elin and Mihka were brought forward, both coughing so much, Sigurd and Sisu almost dropped them. Once they were settled, the first wave of vessels began rowing away.
When they reached the halfway point of the channel, Maiken clapped her hands.
“Now!” she shouted.
As one, everybody behind the herd spread into a living wall, hands outstretched, and walked forward. The effect was instant: the reindeer, sensing the corral, pressed together and stumbled down towards the shore. The females went first in a surge of white water; only their heads and antlers rose above the surface. After a few had taken the plunge, the others followed until all of them were swimming in a great line that kicked towards Anaar. The island lent them new strength – they were so close now. Just half a mile more, and they would be at their destination, able to give birth in peace.
It was an incredible sight. Tuomas had never known so many reindeer driven into the channel at once. He fancied that if he was quick enough, he could walk from one side to the other just along their backs.
The last boats were readied. Tuomas helped Henrik step over the edge and Stellan fetched some oars. In the vessel beside them, Sisu was already sitting with Mihka splayed across his lap. His breath came in snatched gasps and he clutched at his father in desperation.
Tuomas hurried over to check he was alright.
“Nice to see you, idiot,” he said, trying to keep his voice light-hearted.
Mihka looked at him with tired eyes, and despite everything, stuck out his tongue.
“I’ll be up and kicking in no time,” he rasped, then lurched forward and coughed so hard, blood sprayed over Sisu’s coat. Sisu didn’t bother wiping it away, just pulled Mihka closer and hushed him like a babe.
Lilja and Enska appeared on the other side of the boat. Their faces were grave.
“Sisu,” Enska said carefully, “I hate to tell you this, but the bodies need to come in here with us. There’s no more room in the other boats.”
Sisu’s cheeks paled. “Really?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Tuomas glanced back at the boat he was sharing with Henrik and Stellan, but it was already packed to the brim with reindeer skins and sleeping sacks. The other vessels were equally full. There wasn’t even enough room for Sisu and Mihka to squeeze in beside the rowers.
Henrik overheard the conversation and waved to get their attention.
“They should travel with the mages,” he insisted. “Sisu, listen. Aino and Niina have already gone, and they can’t fit in here with Tuomas and me. You’ll have to. Ours are the last two boats.”
Sisu pressed his lips together sullenly, but shuffled further towards the back of the boat and turned his face away.
Without another word, Enska and Lilja started placing the bodies into the prow. They were still wrapped in the blankets, but there was no mistaking what they were.
Tuomas threw a glance at Lilja. She was deliberately not looking at them, yet behind her stoic mask, he saw guilt eating away at her. In an instant, he understood why she had been so stressed that morning. She must have insisted the children travel with her. Maybe it was her own silent way of punishing herself, or doing some small service to the grieving parents, without having to tell them why.
His heart broke for her. She had done everything she could to save her son, and yet death still came. But not for her. It came for those she should be able to protect, laughing in her face, belittling all her powers of healing and help.
“Tuomas!” Stellan called. “It’s time to go!”
Tuomas tried one last time to catch Lilja’s eye, but she had drawn deeply into herself. So he turned to his boat and shoved it with his shoulder until he felt the keel leave the ground. Then he jumped in, sat beside Stellan, and the two of them began rowing.
As they approached the swimming reindeer, Henrik watched the animals carefully from the front. All it would take was for one of them to get tired and turn back, and then the others could follow. Every now and then, he would clap his hands loudly and shout to urge them to keep going. The sudden noise worked: the reindeer moved away from it, heading straight for the further shore. The first ones had already reached the island and were staggering onto the shingle.
Tuomas couldn’t see it, but he recognised the noise of hooves. He was facing the way they had come, too focused on keeping his rowing at the same pace as Stellan. The Sun Spirit broke the horizon on his left and transformed the mountainsides a stunning pale pink. The summits looked so far away now; he could barely believe he had been up there mere days ago.
There was a sudden clunk on the other side of the boat. Stellan let out an alarmed cry.
“What is it?” Tuomas asked.
“I hit something!” Stellan replied and raised his oar to check it.
“Probably just a fish,” Henrik barked from the prow. �
��Keep going. We’re almost there.”
Stellan didn’t put his oar back though, and glanced nervously at Tuomas.
“It didn’t feel like a fish. It was bigger than that.”
“A rock, then,” said Henrik. “Lucky we didn’t go over it. It would have put a hole straight through us. Come on, now! We’ll fall behind.”
Tuomas shrugged in defeat. Stellan took the hint and the two of them plunged their oars deep into the grey water. They were so close now. The promise of rest at the summer camps was too much to resist.
“Hey!” someone cried from a nearby boat. “Over there! Can you see that?”
“What is that?”
“Henrik?” Tuomas called over his shoulder. “What do you see?”
The old mage didn’t reply. Groaning in frustration, Tuomas threw down his oar and stood up. He rocked gently with the swells to keep his balance.
He froze.
There was a boy in the water. An oversized coat fanned around him, hiding the rest of his body, so he just seemed like a floating head.
Tuomas looked straight at Lilja. She had seen it too, and unmistakable recognition was on her face.
“Can I play?” the boy said. His voice bubbled and cracked, as though he hadn’t used his lungs in years.
“Aki…” Lilja breathed.
Aki opened his eyes, revealing horrid white globes.
A blanket of mist sprung out from him, twisting and curling over itself. The water churned like a bubbling spring and a mass of dripping bodies leapt from the depths, all slimy skin and mouths of pointed teeth. Tiny red eyes gleamed; webbed hands flailing, stringy green reeds clung to a wiry skeletal frame.
Enska shouted, “Draugars!”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Panic erupted. The reindeer bellowed and desperately tried to escape, but the draugars jumped onto their backs and wrenched at their antlers. The people in the nearest boats swung their oars to smack them away.
Tuomas knelt down so he wouldn’t fall. He remembered the way they had appeared in the water by the foothills; heard Lilja’s warning in his memory:
“It doesn’t matter how far away you go from one lake or river. If they want you, they will follow you to another.”
“Things of fireside stories, huh?” he snapped at Henrik. “I told you I saw them!”
Henrik was too stunned to even respond. Tuomas snatched his drum off his belt and went to hit out a shield like he had at the lake, but hesitated. The draugars were among the people and reindeer now; there was no clear line to draw the barrier. Some carried on terrorising the herd, but others made straight for the boats, slithering across the surface like horrid crabs.
Tuomas panicked. He brought the hammer down on his drum and pushed his taika out as fast as he could.
A shockwave swept across the channel and sent the draugars flying away from the animals. He struck it again, frantic, hardly lifting before hitting the next beat. There was no time to chant, no time to think. He pressed his taika towards the reindeer, encouraging the herd to keep swimming. He imagined two great walls forming on either side of them, like the split avalanche, creating a safe path for them to follow.
“Help me!” he gasped at the other mages.
At once, he heard more drumming, sensed their taika entwining with his own. He recognised it by feel, without even having to look. First came Aino; then Enska; then Henrik. And finally, Lilja. His souls swam with it: a pulsating mixture of scents, temperatures, tastes, memories… it was all around him, pressing on his chest, filling his nose until he could barely breathe. His balance spun and he almost tumbled over.
He forced himself to focus on his own magic. First, he caught the sharpness of lingonberry, then the Sun Spirit’s warmth on his back, and held onto it like an anchor. He couldn’t let himself get swept away in everyone else’s power.
Lilja’s taika was the weakest he had ever known it. He risked a glance at her, but her eyes were fixed on Aki. Her face was wet with tears and she made no move to stop them. Her hands were trembling on her drum, so much, she risked dropping the hammer. Aki himself wasn’t moving, but even over the frothing waves, Tuomas could still see the burn scars extending down his cheeks.
“Keep rowing!” he said to Stellan. “Hurry!”
Stellan grabbed both oars and thrust them over the side. Tuomas returned his attention to his drum, his eyes darting in all directions. The draugars were everywhere. The air was filled with the sound of their slimy skin slipping through the water. Tuomas heard them inside his head: hundreds of whispers all building atop others until it formed a mass of white noise. It battered his senses; together with the pulsing taika, he was shocked he didn’t pass out from it. The other mages were struggling too – Henrik groaned and collapsed against the mound of sleeping sacks.
The reindeer powered forward and, at last, made it to the shore. They immediately bolted onto the island, desperate for shelter.
The draugars hissed, then they all dived under the surface, dragging Aki with them.
Everyone stopped drumming. Tuomas looked around, but there was no sign of them. Beneath the sheet of mist, the water was as still and grey as it had been moments ago. The last two boats floated in complete silence.
The villagers who had reached Anaar huddled together with fright. They muttered apprehensively to each other, but nobody dared raise their voices too loudly. Some made the sign of the hand while others dragged the ill youngsters away from the channel. Aino laid Paavo on a large flat rock, then she and Niina ran to the shore.
“Where did they go?” she called.
“I don’t know!” Anssi shouted back. “Do you see them?”
“No!” Enska replied. “Is anybody hurt?”
“No, we’re all fine!”
“Lay down a protective circle! We’re coming!”
Lilja ignored everyone. She was leaping from one side of the boat to the other, frantically peering into the water. Enska quickly hauled her back.
“What were those things?” Sisu demanded over another attack of coughing from Mihka.
“We ran into them on the way; I’ll explain later,” Enska said. He set Lilja down and snatched an oar.
Henrik kept tight hold of his drum. Tuomas glanced at him anxiously, to check he was alright, but Henrik waved him off.
“Come on, boy, they’re gone,” he said. His normally deep voice trembled with shock.
Stellan started rowing again, using both his and Tuomas’s oars. But Tuomas’s eyes moved back to the water. Something didn’t feel right. Why had the draugars only harassed the reindeer and then disappeared?
They must have known that all the youngsters were in one place; sensed it through the spreading sickness. And they would have known the convoy needed to cross the channel to reach the summer islands. All they needed to do was wait, and then, when everyone was contained in the boats, sweep in to claim what they were was after.
What they were after…
Tuomas’s eyes widened. When the children on the Nordjarvi had vanished, the draugars hadn’t just taken their souls. The bodies had vanished too. And now, four bodies were stranded in the middle of the sea, alone.
Along with him.
His blood ran cold with realisation.
“Sisu, Enska!” he yelled. “It’s a trap!”
The entire channel exploded. Water flew skywards and rained down with the force of a storm. It soaked Tuomas, salt stinging his eyes; he could barely see, but he heard the draugars underneath the boats like thunder. Now the reindeer were gone, they had more room to move. The surface heaved with their bodies; the attack renewed with more vigour than ever.
On the beach, the herders drew out their bows. Sigurd and Alda stood as close to the waves as they dared and unleashed a relentless shower of arrows onto the draugars. Every time one hit, the creatures shrieked in pain, but it only seemed to make them angrier.
One flung itself onto Tuomas’s chest and knocked him to the bottom of the boat. His drum flew from his hands.
He gasped, winded; the draugar was the size of a grown man and it pinned his wrists either side of his head.
Memories flooded him, of Kari holding him down, bringing the knife close, salivating at the thought of cutting out his heart and eating it…
Stellan and Henrik snatched the draugar off him. It kicked and squirmed like a wild animal, trying to take a bite out of Henrik’s arm. He narrowly avoided its jaws and tossed it into the water.
Tuomas staggered upright, shaking with fright. Another wave of arrows showered around him and a sudden cry made him freeze. Over in Lilja’s boat, several draugars had crawled inside and were slithering over the dead children. She tried to ward them off, but they grabbed a body each and leapt away with a splash.
Aki was back too, spreading the cloak of mist all around them. It writhed like a living thing. And through it, Tuomas watched in horror as he began pulling Mihka into the channel. Mihka shrieked, trying to claw his way free, but he was too weak. Aki wrapped his pale arms around him and held him fast.
Tuomas grabbed his drum, but the hammer was missing – he realised with a stab of horror that it must have fallen overboard.
Another draugar vaulted into the boat and landed on Tuomas’s back. It snatched a handful of his hair and wrenched his head up, then ran its slippery fingers over his shoulders and down his chest.
Here you are, Son of the Sun! it rasped. We have you! Give it to us! Come with us!
“Help!” Tuomas cried. “Get it off me!”
Stellan swung an oar at it, but the creature leapt aside and over Tuomas, then took his legs and started to drag him towards the water. Tuomas grabbed the side of the boat and held on so tightly, the ends of his fingernails bent back. Stellan quickly seized his wrists, but the draugar was relentless. They both pulled him so strongly, the joints of his spine cracked.
“Will you play with me?” Aki rasped at Mihka in the other boat. Putrid water spilled out of his mouth. “Please? Will you be my friend?”
Sisu let out an incomprehensible shout and leapt straight at Aki. As he lunged, he drew a knife and slashed it across Aki’s arm.
