by E. C. Hibbs
After a long silence, he spoke again.
“I’m sorry about your drum.”
“Mm.”
For the first time during the conversation, Lilja’s expression darkened, but she shook it off.
“I won’t waste energy being annoyed at your brother. He didn’t know what he was doing. I guess he’s just lucky I didn’t rip his face off because of it.”
Tuomas shuddered, remembering the hollowness which had spread over her eyes when Kari took control of her.
“I’ll make another drum,” she said. “It can mark a new beginning for me. I’ll rediscover my taika. I’m content to not run away from it anymore.”
Tuomas smiled at her. “I think that’s a good idea.”
“Of course it is.”
Lilja put a pot on the hearth and filled it with snow, then fished around for some tea herbs.
“The Great Bear really is something, isn’t it?” she said wryly.
Tuomas smiled, but it was quickly chased away by a frown.
“Lilja… when I met the Bear, it didn’t call me Tuomas. It called me Red Fox One.”
A grin spread across Lilja’s face.
“Because it’s your Spirit title, that’s why,” she replied. “You and the Spirit of the Lights are equals and opposites. She’s the White Fox One, Daughter of the Moon. Don’t you think it makes sense for you to be the Red Fox One, Son of the Sun?”
Tuomas settled back against the tarp wall, Lumi’s spectral eyes flashing in his mind.
“Perfect sense,” he said.
Chapter Thirty
The midday twilight slowly grew longer and longer, until the time came for the night to finally end. Everybody in Akerfjorden hurried to the bank of the Mustafjord. Children played and poked each other with twigs, and the adults shared hearty conversations over shared bowls of sautéed reindeer.
A sense of relief and celebration hung in the air. At last, they could welcome back the Sun Spirit. But this year, there was more to celebrate. Perhaps more than there would ever be again.
Tuomas sat with Paavo and Mihka, as he had since he could remember. Elin was with them too – she had decided to stay in Akerfjorden to make good on the promise to Alda, and care for Tuomas’s hands. The frostbite had done its damage now, and while he had lost the thumbnail, as he thought he might, it luckily hadn’t spread any further.
Tuomas was just grateful he could still work with it. When he’d come down from the mountain a month ago, it was difficult to tell whether the limb could be saved. It was only thanks to Elin and Alda that he still had it.
“Is it hurting?” Elin asked, noticing how he was looking at it.
Tuomas shook his head. “No. It’s just taking a while to get used to it. It feels like I have phantom fingers!”
Elin smiled. “I’ve heard of that happening before.”
“Only you would leave the village and come back with frostbite,” Mihka chuckled, earning him a shove from Tuomas. But that didn’t dissuade him and he carried on.
“At least you’re not walking like a… what was it, Paavo?”
“Angry moose?”
“That’s it!”
“Fine. If you’re going to insult me, I’ll just help myself to this,” said Tuomas, snatching Mihka’s bowl. “You can only use your big mouth for one thing at a time!”
Mihka grabbed it back and went to respond, but then silence fell over the crowd. Tuomas twisted around.
Henrik was walking towards the shore, drum tied onto his belt. This time, however, instead of going straight past Tuomas, the old mage motioned for him to join him.
Tuomas got to his feet and threw a small smile at his friends. Henrik led him to the edge of the ice, took up a bowl of ash and daubed it on his face in the ceremonial patterns. It was coarse and flaky; its bitter scent filled his nose. Henrik swept it across his cheekbones and forehead, down his chin and nose.
Then he untied his drum. Tuomas copied him, holding his own in his hands.
“Are you ready, boy?” Henrik asked under his breath.
Tuomas nodded.
Without another word, they both raised the antler hammers and struck the skins.
Tuomas began the chant first. The warmth of his taika twisted and rolled inside him, and he let it out in an ululating stream of song. He didn’t think on it, didn’t try to force it to sound like anything except what it was. It combined with Henrik’s, swirling towards a horizon of pale blues and faint pinks.
He could feel the Sun Spirit, just beyond the edge of the World, working closer, opening her bright eye once more. Her magic and love entered him as he hovered above his body, formless and endless, floating in the space between realms.
When the chant drew to a close, and he drifted back to the World Between, the Sun Spirit had broken through, the top of her shining face just kissing the earth. The villagers erupted into applause and song.
Tuomas lowered his drum and Henrik placed a proud hand on his shoulder.
At last, the Long Dark was over.
As he dreamed, Tuomas found himself sitting on a hilly tussock, watching the herd forage in the snow. Paavo was there with Aslak, as the two of them usually were, tossing down some food and checking to make sure no bells had broken loose from around the animals’ necks. The females’ bellies were fat with unborn calves. When spring came, those young ones would drop, and then would be a frenzied few days of herding them all into the corral for the earmarking.
Tuomas found his own mark within moments of looking. There weren’t many reindeer bearing it, but it didn’t take him long to pick out the bull which had accompanied him on the long journey. It had lost weight while they had been away, but now it was filling out again. It would be a strong one in the next rut, he knew it.
A smile traced his lips, but disappeared just as quickly. How was he supposed to pick up the threads of this old life?
After fifteen years of knowing nothing but this, everything had happened so fast. Could he truly return to it as though nothing had changed? When he stood there, slicing his mark into the ears of his new calves, making burr-cups, following the herd on the migration… would things really look and feel the same?
He heard Lumi’s voice in his memory.
“I would give anything to take you back there. Back home, with me.”
He blinked, and when he opened his eyes, he was lying on his back in his sleeping sack.
Paavo was snoring, Elin kicking out in her sleep. The fire was still going strong, and filled the hut with delicious warmth. A hare, fresh from the day’s hunt, hung by its feet from the central beam.
He sat up and peered out of the smoke hole. The sky was clear and dark, spangled with thousands of stars. Then the unmistakable shimmer of iridescent green drifted by.
Careful to not make any noise, he dressed himself and eased outside, closing the door as softly as he could.
The village was deserted. The quiet sound of snores came from the huts as he passed them. He pulled a pair of mittens on in mid-step, letting himself wander to the edge of the Mustafjord.
He walked out onto the ice. The Lights blazed above him, filling the sky, leaving the cold landscape awash with colour. They reflected off every surface, dancing to an otherworldly silent tune. But Tuomas could remember it: that celestial sound, inaudible to human ears, so welcoming and pure.
When he reached the middle of the fjord, he dropped to his knees. In the aurora’s floating curtain, he could just make out the swaying shapes of the ancestors. Then, running through the veil, he saw a white fox, her face turned towards him.
He heard footsteps behind him and looked over his shoulder. Elin was standing there, her hair a mess, eyes still heavy with slumber. She hadn’t even put on a hat.
“Sorry if I woke you,” he said.
“It’s alright. I wasn’t having a good sleep anyway.” She came closer and knelt beside him. “What are you doing out here?”
In answer, Tuomas turned his eyes back to the sky.
&nb
sp; Elin gazed up at the Lights.
“Are you missing her?”
“More than you think,” he replied. “It feels like a part of me went away with her.”
Elin hesitated for a moment.
“Listen, I can tell you haven’t been yourself since you went into that trance in Enska’s hut,” she said carefully. “Why?”
“No. I’m more myself than ever,” Tuomas said. “I don’t really know how to explain it. But everything just feels so… different now.”
“Because you know who you are?”
He nodded. “Nobody else – apart from the Great Mage – has ever had a Spirit for a life-soul. And I don’t know what to do with that. When I was up there, in the World Above, everything felt so right. Like I’d come into a second home.”
Elin was silent for a long time, her hands clasped in her lap, fingers weaving together agitatedly.
“You’re going up there, aren’t you?”
Tuomas gnawed on his lip.
“Not for long,” he whispered. “I just want to feel it again. See what it really feels like to be a Spirit.”
“Nobody’s done that before.”
“I know. That’s the point.”
“How do you know you’ll be able to get back?”
“I walked physically in the World Below. This can’t be any different.”
He looked into her face. It was flushed from cold, and a few tears had started to roll down her cheeks. He wiped them away so they wouldn’t freeze, but she grabbed his hand.
“Promise you won’t be gone too long.”
“I promise,” Tuomas said. “Besides, I need to come back. It will be time for the migration before we know it.”
“You’d better,” Elin said. “I’ve gotten used to getting you out of trouble.”
Tuomas smiled. “I’ll be back. I don’t break promises.”
He put his arms around her and pulled her into a hug. She held him tightly, her fingers digging into the fur of his coat.
“Thank you,” he said. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”
Then he pulled away from her, turned his eyes to the sky, and held out a hand.
He barely needed to summon his taika before the aurora extended down to the earth. Its colour lit up the snow and millions of flakes across the fjord sparkled like diamond dust. It shifted and twisted, and a familiar face appeared in its curtain: pointed ears erect atop a head of white hair.
Lumi grasped her brother’s wrist.
The Lights spread into Tuomas’s body, and he was lifted away. Elin’s hands closed around empty air. The two Spirits drifted into the World Above, curling around each other, new branches of magic spreading across the night like limbs on a tree in summer.
A few heartbeats later, Elin was alone in the middle of the Mustafjord.
“I’ll see you soon,” she said.
Then she laid down in the snow, ignoring the cold, and watched the dancing Lights until morning.
The drumbeats continue…
The Mist Children
The Foxfires Trilogy
Book Two
Read on for an exclusive sneak peak!
Prologue
At the outskirts of Poro village, the sound of friendly jeering carried over the frozen surface of Lake Nordjarvi. On the banks, three children – two boys and a girl – ran about with lengths of rope in hand. They had stuck a pair of antlers into the snow, and were testing how far away they could get before the lassos landed short.
The girl tossed her rope and it fell pathetically, three feet from the antlers. The boys shrieked with laughter.
“What kind of throw was that?” one of them snorted.
The girl glowered.
“Shut up, Niko. Mine was better than any of yours!”
“Alright then, let’s try something else, and see who’s best,” said Niko. “Boden, get the antlers and pretend you’re a reindeer, and then Inga and me will try to catch you! Whoever lassos first wins!”
“Fine!” Inga snatched her rope with newfound vigour.
Boden dug the antlers out of the snow and held them against his head. He loped around, kicking and snorting like a calf. Inga and Niko tossed their lassos, but both missed, and they gave chase.
“Come on!” Boden shouted. “You can do better than that, can’t you?”
Niko shoved his way past Inga and threw his rope. It snagged on one of the antler points, but slipped off before it could tighten.
“I’ll get you!” he cried, the words broken with laughter.
Excitement overcame them and Boden soon gave up impersonating a reindeer. He sprinted towards the Nordjarvi. The others ran after him, giggling wildly, slipping as they left the bank and emerged onto the lake. There was still a layer of snow lying on top of the ice, but their shoes sank straight through it, all grip gone.
Boden lost his footing completely and went flying onto his backside. The antlers fell from his grasp and skittered across the surface.
A lasso landed neatly around his torso.
“I got you!” cried Inga triumphantly. Then she turned on Niko. “I win!”
“Shut up,” Niko glowered. He glanced uneasily at the antlers.
“Why did you throw them?” he demanded.
“I didn’t throw them. I dropped them,” argued Boden as he disentangled himself from the rope.
“We’ve got to get them,” said Niko hotly. “My Papa will be so cross if I lose them. He said he needed them later to make new knife handles.”
“Well, go and get them,” said Inga. “The ice is still thick enough to walk on.”
Niko nodded – more to himself than the others. He had never liked being out on the water in the middle of winter. Even though he’d crossed lakes every year on the migration, and sometimes came ice fishing with his family, there was something about doing it which unsettled him.
It was a frozen purgatory; water, yet solid: a thin skin which he could crash through at any moment. Eevi, his older sister, had told him: if you fall under the ice, the cold would kill you before you could drown, before you could even shout for help.
He shuddered. He couldn’t wait for summer.
But he couldn’t let Inga and Boden see he was afraid, either. They were his friends, but they would still tease him.
So he straightened his back, and headed towards the antlers.
They were several feet away, but the distance seemed like miles as the anxiety tightened his muscles. The soles of his shoes were made from the fur of a reindeer’s head; and the strands, sticking out in all directions, gave a fantastic grip. But he still moved slowly, listening for the slightest crack.
After a few tense seconds, he reached the antlers and snatched them up. He let out a small smirk of relief and turned back to his friends.
But they weren’t looking at him. Their eyes carried on past him, wide with alarm. Inga’s mouth had fallen open and her breath fogged in the air.
“What is it?” Niko asked.
They didn’t reply. Niko slowly turned.
A boy was standing on the ice, just out of arms’ length. He looked about the same age as them, or perhaps a year younger, with sandy blonde hair reaching to his shoulders. Ugly burn scars shone on his cheek. He was dressed in a baggy coat, decorated with the patterns of Poro, but Niko couldn’t remember seeing him before. He was dripping wet from head to toe, clothes clinging to his skinny body. His eyes were closed.
Niko shivered just looking at him. How had he not frozen solid, soaked as he was? Where had he even come from?
“Uh… hello,” he said tentatively.
The boy didn’t reply.
Niko threw a confused glance at Boden and Inga.
They were muttering between themselves, still staring at the newcomer. But they didn’t come closer to investigate. No matter that the ice was still sturdy; they all knew that too much weight in one place was never a good idea.
Niko fidgeted, rocking back and forth on his heels.
�
�What’s your name?” he asked.
The boy tilted his head slightly. The movement was strange and fitful, more like a bird than a human. He kept his eyes closed.
“I’m Aki,” he said, barely above a whisper. When he opened his mouth, water spilled out and dripped down his chin.
Niko fought the urge to recoil.
Inga took a tentative step forward. “Is everything alright?”
“I think so,” Niko called back.
“Do you want me to get my Mama?” she offered.
Niko refused, then addressed Aki again.
“Hey… aren’t you cold? Do you know you’re not supposed to go out in wet clothes?”
Aki didn’t say anything. The only movement was another twitch of his head.
The silence began to get uncomfortable, and Niko went to ask something else, to break it. But then Aki murmured something, so quietly, he had to lean in to hear.
“It’s my birthnight.”
Niko hesitated.
“Happy birthnight,” he said. “How old are you?”
“I’m five.”
“Uh… well, do you want to play with us?”
Aki nodded woodenly, but didn’t take a single step.
Then he opened his eyes.
Niko screamed. They were completely white and clouded over, with no hint of colour at all. It was like they belonged in a corpse.
He bolted for the shore, for his friends, but they were screaming too. Niko slipped, arms flailing frantically as he tried to stay on his feet. Dense mist spread around him, as though a giant being had let out a lungful of breath into the winter air. It enveloped him first, then Boden and Inga as they tried to run.
There was a slippery sound, like fish squirming over each other, followed by the gnashing of teeth. And then, as though the icy layer had given way beneath them, the children disappeared from view.
On the hill nearby stood the Poro mage, Enska. He had heard the commotion and arrived just in time to see Inga fall.