The Mist Children

by E. C. Hibbs

  “But if they were the price set to you by the Great Bear Spirit,” she continued, “you should have paid it. No option was ideal, but that was clearly the best of all of them, otherwise the Bear wouldn’t have told you to do it.”

  “But the draugars are still gone,” Niina said carefully. “The youngsters are all free.”

  “At the cost of the boundary between the Above and Between,” Enska replied.

  And all the others, Tuomas thought. After everything that he had done, all the hurt he had caused, he had still failed.

  “But at least someone gets a happy ending,” Henrik muttered, then raised his voice at Lilja. “Your son? He looks enough like you to be your son.”

  Tuomas glanced at everyone’s faces. He could tell from their subdued reactions that Henrik had told them all about Runa.

  “Yes,” Lilja said quietly. “His name is Aki.”

  Henrik gave a snide nod. “And now you’ve got him back. Even though everything else is gone.”

  “Shut up,” Lilja snapped.

  Henrik was on his feet in an instant. “What did you say to me?”

  Lilja held his eyes like an incensed wolf.

  “You heard. Don’t take your own insecurities out on me just because that stupid boy tried to play the hero.”

  Henrik’s face turned red. “You do not speak for me! And that reminds me, since I’m sure you never married, who’s the father?”

  “That’s enough, Henrik,” Enska warned. “It’s none of your business, so don’t assume a thing.”

  Henrik wheeled on him. “You know as well, do you?”

  “Stop it!” Tuomas shouted before the argument could escalate. “This is all my fault – be mad at me, not Lilja! Leave her and Aki out of this.”

  Sure enough, Henrik turned his anger away from Enska, but then threw it straight back at Tuomas.

  “You’re right, boy. This is all your fault. At least now you have the gall to admit to it.”

  Tuomas bent his head in shame. Even in his grief, he couldn’t believe he had been so thoughtless. Hadn’t Henrik warned him at the start of the migration that he needed to be careful? Yet he’d still let his anger get the better of him. It had been luck which led to him being unharmed by the blizzard, to splitting the avalanche, to helping the reindeer swim to Anaar. Once again, all reckless, risky uses of a taika he could barely control.

  And now his luck had run dry. No matter that he had somehow escaped the abyss. It was he who would ultimately pay the price.

  Fifteen years old was the age of manhood. Eight months ago, at midsummer, he had leapt on that idea with open arms. But as he sat there, under the judgmental and disappointed gazes of his fellow mages, he realised how much he was truly still a child.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Night gave way to day, and then back to night again. Stars spun through the tiny gap of the smoke hole. Clouds swept in and emptied flurries of snow over Anaar.

  Lilja and Enska cared for Tuomas, but it was always with an uncomfortable distance, and they never held his eyes for longer than was necessary. Lilja kept to herself at the back of the hut, hardly leaving Aki’s side. He didn’t wake up for more than a few moments at a time: just enough to swallow a cupful of water before falling back to sleep.

  Tuomas heard Lilja telling her father she believed his body was still adjusting to being alive again. Even though it made sense, Tuomas couldn’t repress a shudder at the concept. This little boy, who had inadvertently caused so much suffering, had come back from the dead. It was unheard of. But, then again, he supposed nothing could be said to be unheard of now. Nothing was simple anymore.

  This is the price of growing up, he thought to himself. As a child, everything was just so. There was a place and time for all things, and those things never broke out of the boundaries laid around them. He’d clung onto that idea like an anchor. Life didn’t have to change, if he didn’t let it.

  But then, gradually, the waves of his tranquil sea transformed, creeping up slowly until he couldn’t even notice they were rising at all. And on the other side, as a new dawn bled across the rough water, he realised that it wasn’t the sea which had changed. It was him. And there was no way back to what had once been.

  On the third night, Tuomas fetched his drum and left the hut. He still didn’t feel completely recovered – every movement was laborious and each breath tore at his lungs, but he knew he needed to go back to the shelter he had shared with Paavo. The longer he put it off, the harder it would be.

  He trudged through the forest, keeping his eyes on the ground to make sure he didn’t trip over any rocks. His tail smacked against the trees as though to remind him that it was there. In frustration, he tried to keep it still, but that only made it flick more irately from side to side.

  He ran a hand along it. It protruded from just below the base of his spine, the waist of his trousers tied underneath it. The fur felt exactly like Lumi’s: so fine and silky, it seemed as though it was air somehow given form. Each strand was a shiny coppery colour, but its beauty was lost on him. He reached up to his ears and tugged at them, half-hoping they might detach from his head if he pulled hard enough. He gave up when the pain became too great and smacked out at low-hanging branches with a snarl. He would have had just as much luck trying to pull off his arm.

  Before long, he reached the main area of huts. The fire in the central pit was almost out; only a handful of red embers continued to smoulder at the bottom. Everyone was in bed. But a small part of him wondered if they somehow knew he was walking around, and were keeping their distance. It wouldn’t surprise him. He deserved it.

  His eyes lingered on the hut where Sigurd, Alda and Elin were staying. The door was securely closed. He hadn’t seen them since that day at the beach – even Elin had stayed away. Tuomas told himself it was because she was still weak. Whether it was from the sickness or being dragged into the water, she had taken a terrible beating. But deep down, he couldn’t forget the awful way she’d looked at him; the accusation and hurt.

  He wondered if she’d told Sigurd what she’d heard. Sigurd had obviously made the connection when he saw Lilja and Aki together, but where did that leave the family? Lilja had worked so hard to protect them, and now it would all be for nothing.

  He needed to speak to Elin. Tomorrow, he would come to the hut and try to explain.

  Then he heard something: a hard scraping sound.

  He frowned. Was somebody still awake?

  He stole past the shelters and crept in the direction of the noise. It led him to the edge of the beach. A figure was dragging one of the boats towards the sea. A torch had been stuck into the shingle to give some light, and by the orange glow, Tuomas noticed a head of white hair.

  He gasped.

  “Mihka?”

  The figure spun around. Tuomas jumped onto the pebbles and hurried over.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  When Mihka saw him, his face hardened into stone.

  “I’m going,” he replied.

  Tuomas quickly took stock of the boat. It was packed for a long journey, with a sleeping sack, food, spare clothes, skis, hunting gear, and a small sled to pull it all in.

  “Where?”

  “What do you care? Anywhere’s better than here.”

  “What? Why? What’s the matter? You can’t go, you’ve been sick!”

  Mihka stepped towards him. His body was still horribly thin, but the colour had returned to his cheeks and the skin around his eyes was no longer bruised. It was a huge change from just a few days ago, yet the expression on his face was as though he was a completely different person.

  “I came looking for Henrik a few nights back, to ask him for some herbs,” Mihka said. “I followed him to Enska and Lilja’s hut. All the other mages were going there, too – to speak with you. So I waited outside, and I heard everything.”

  Tuomas froze.

  “You saved that kid and your new best friend, but the price was my father’s soul,”
Mihka snarled.

  “I had no control over that,” Tuomas protested. “I tried to save all of them!”

  “Shut up!”

  Mihka shoved him hard. Tuomas fell onto his backside and stared up at his friend in alarm. Mihka’s eyes were ablaze, wet with tears, hatred written across his entire face.

  “Mihka…”

  “No! I don’t want to listen to you!”

  “Please! I’ve been so stupid, and I’m sorry! I tried!”

  “Well, it doesn’t really matter, does it? My father’s dead, and he is never coming back! And even if you managed to save him, you still would have doomed us all!”

  Tuomas staggered to his feet. “Mihka, don’t go. Please.”

  But Mihka narrowed his eyes.

  “Don’t come after me, Tuomas,” he said. “I never want to see you again.”

  Without another word, he turned back to the boat and gave it one last shove. The water lifted it; he leapt inside, took up the oars, and started rowing away, towards the dark bulk of the mainland.

  Tuomas ran to the edge of the waves, but didn’t go any further. His entire body trembled with shame as he watched the boat become smaller. Soon, even Mihka’s hair was only a faint white speck in the distance. And then, in a heartbeat, the darkness swallowed that too.

  Tuomas stood rooted to the spot. His legs felt separate from himself, as though they were dead tree stumps upon which he was resting. They crashed underneath him; he sank to his knees and wept.

  He noticed something in the shingle in front of him: paler than the greyness which surrounded it. Bone.

  He picked it up. It was the carved fox head.

  It was only a few inches long and weighed practically nothing, but he felt as though he was holding a boulder in his hand. He drew it back, to throw it as far as he could.

  But then his eyes rose from the sea to the sky. The tear spilled across it in a line of piercing light. Even the stars seemed dimmed because of it. He was so small underneath it – he knew every Spirit in the World Above was staring at him through the gash.

  He noticed the constellation of the Great Bear and lowered his hand.

  He had never felt so terrible. He thought of Lilja’s words after he’d woken up; how she intended to leave. Once again, she would cut off everything for the benefit of all others.

  Was he not in a similar position? Those he loved were lost and hope was gone. She’d said to him, only a few weeks ago, that when things felt out of control, the best thing to do was control whatever one could.

  He got to his feet. Even taking his own weight again was a physical effort. He pocketed the carving and headed towards the boats.

  “Tuomas.”

  He stopped dead. That voice… it was clearer than a bell, purer than virgin snow.

  He looked over his shoulder and his heart skipped.

  “Lumi?”

  She stood as still as an ice statue; in the same form he had once forced her into. She had the same arms and legs, her long pure white hair, her garment of starlight and ethereal piercing eyes. Pointed ears rose from her scalp and her bushy tail swept gently at her heels. Sparks of green and blue flew from the fur.

  She walked towards him. Her feet were bare, and so light, the pebbles didn’t even move as she stepped on them. Tuomas didn’t move his eyes from her.

  “How are you here?” he blurted.

  “What are your intentions?” she countered.

  Tuomas hesitated. He threw a fleeting glance at the nearest boat.

  “I was… going to leave,” he admitted. “It would be better for everyone.”

  “Is that not the same logic you applied to sacrificing yourself?” Lumi replied.

  She stood between him and the boat, but not close enough to touch. The falling stardust from the rip made her skin glitter like frost crystals. She was solid, yet so delicate, he found himself wondering once again how she could be contained.

  When she next spoke, some of the coldness lifted from her voice.

  “You must not run. It will do no good to anyone. You and I, least of all.”

  “But look at what I’ve done,” Tuomas cried, pointing at the sky.

  For the first time since she had appeared, Lumi closed her eyes.

  “You did not tear the Worlds,” she said sullenly. “I did.”

  “What?”

  “When I realised what you had done, I jumped across all three Worlds to reach you. I threw all my power behind it.”

  She looked at him again and explained everything that had happened since she had left him in the tundra. With every word, more blood drained from Tuomas’s face. His initial relief at not causing the rip melted into sheer shock.

  “You finished off the draugars?” he breathed. “And you trapped yourself here for me?”

  “I had to take a physical form to reach the World Below,” she explained. “It was a price I was willing to pay, however thoughtlessly I acted upon it.”

  “But it was daylight. Didn’t that hurt you?”

  “Of course it did,” Lumi replied snappishly. “It is why I have been hiding in an old fox burrow for the past three days, so I could recover. But what does it matter? None of this would have happened if you had listened to me in the first place. Why did you insult me like that?”

  Her ears twitched and the edges of her eyes turned red. Tuomas took a wary step back.

  “I didn’t want to listen,” he admitted. “Lumi, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  Her tail twitched irately and sent a small aurora flickering over the shingle. Then she approached him and took his hands in hers. She was so gentle, he barely felt her.

  “Your power is different,” she observed. “Aki and Elin are not the only ones who died and came back to life in the lake. You have too, twice in the same body. That has never happened before in the histories of all the Worlds. You now hold the full strength of a Spirit inside you, Tuomas.”

  Tuomas swallowed nervously. “How am I going to be able to control it? It was hard enough before!”

  “I will help you,” said Lumi. “I once told you that I would save you a thousand times. Now we must work together to save everything. And if we succeed, we need only do it once.”

  Tuomas’s breath shook. He didn’t want to do a single thing more for anyone.

  “I can’t,” he cried. “All I do is hurt people. And these things…” He pulled at his ears. “These are to show I’m really a Spirit in human form? Well, one thing’s right about it being the Spirit of the Flames. Flames destroy everything they touch.”

  “If unchecked, yes, they do,” Lumi said. “But contained – focused – they are the reason for life. Every piece of ash left behind is a chance for something new.”

  She dipped her head to catch his eye.

  “I know you feel alone,” she said softly, “but you never have been. I have always been with you, and I will continue to be with you. My brother.”

  Tuomas sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve. He squeezed her fingers as hard as he dared, worried that too much pressure would break her like ice on a thawing lake. But it didn’t. She stayed as strong as ever, and just as it had in the World Below, a grip as powerful as a mountain took hold of him. But this time, he didn’t pull away. He would never pull away from her again.

  “My sister,” he whispered.

  The two of them stood hand in hand, watching the starry waterfall drift into the sea. Then they turned away from the open sky and walked back into the forest. All that was left to show they had been there was a tiny trail of green aurora, floating away like mist in the morning.

  The drumbeats end…

  The Night River

  The Foxfires Trilogy

  Book Three

  Read on for an exclusive sneak peak!

  Prologue

  The stars twinkled and the Moon Spirit was bright, but despite the glow they cast over the snowy tundra, Mihka felt like he had never known a night so dark. Somehow it seemed even blacker than
at the height of winter. The air was sharp around him; not from cold, but something else which ran deeper, through the very veins of the Northlands. It left him breathless, as though he’d climbed to a mountain summit where the oxygen thinned and he had to struggle to fill his lungs. He was no mage, but even he could sense the Worlds moving away from each other, like currents pulling water in different directions. Overhead, the sky was torn clean in two and the edges of the abyss waved like a spiderweb in the breeze.

  The sight was terrifying, but he forced himself to concentrate. He had only fled Anaar the night before, but already the island was a dark blue speck in the distance behind him. He’d crossed the channel in a boat, then emptied it of his belongings and strapped them all into a small sled made from lightweight birch planks. Attaching it to his belt and slipping his shoes into a pair of skis, he had set off in the direction of Akerfjorden’s winter camp. The only things which he hadn’t tied to the sled were his bow and arrows. Those were slung across his shoulders, in case he came across a hare or ptarmigan.

  He had decided to take the long way. Keeping to ground level meant he could stop at the Poro winter camp, rest and perhaps trade for some food if he failed to catch anything. Going through the mountain passes was a definite short cut, but with spring approaching, he didn’t want to risk it. Spring was the most changeable and dangerous season of all. If he became trapped up there, alone, nobody would ever find him.

  It wasn’t even late in the evening, but the nights were still coming early. The hours of daylight wouldn’t catch up for several more weeks. It was time to stop and pitch camp.

  There was a forest in front of him, branches heaped with snow, their ends feathered by the glistening of ice crystals. Boulders peppered the ground here and there – he supposed they had broken off the nearby mountains in some long-ago avalanche and crashed down into the trees. Perfect. They would block a little of the wind.