by E. C. Hibbs
“The same way you can love Lumi even though she attacked your best friend.”
Tuomas shook his head. “Lumi did something bad and then redeemed herself. It’s different.”
“Is it?” Lilja said tightly. “You only saw Kari as he was… after. And I will never defend him for what he did, to you, to me… But no matter what he became, he was still my brother. My companion.”
Tuomas fell silent. Even after Kari betrayed her, she had climbed the Einfjall mountain to give him some semblance of funeral rites. He had never known such a powerful loyalty.
“You’re stronger than me,” he admitted. “I could never forgive someone for that.”
“I didn’t say I forgave him,” Lilja said. “There’s a fine line between forgiveness and acceptance.”
“I know,” he said. “That’s why I haven’t really spoken about Lumi. Henrik and the Akerfjorden leaders told me not to. They didn’t like how at ease I was with it.”
“They’re just not used to it, so that makes them scared. It’s different for you and me. We were with her for longer. You got to know her best of all.”
“But they saw how she saved us. Why can’t they remember that, and not just be scared of her?”
“You were brought up to respect the Lights too,” Lilja reminded him. “When you first saw her in human form, you were terrified – I remember the look on your face. You can’t just forget that fear. And she’s still a Spirit; she’s not human. She’s neither light nor dark. If you had no real exposure to that, could you honestly accept it so easily?”
Her words sent a shiver down his spine. In his mind’s eye, Lumi’s face twisted into one darker; her curtain of green Lights became straight and silver. He remembered the crushing embrace around his souls, the seductive voice flowing through his head.
No, he told himself. She can’t take you. She never will.
A faint glow suddenly streaked across the snow. Everyone exclaimed in horror.
Tuomas immediately saw why. The stars were showering out of the sky. They fell gently, as though they were passing through water rather than air, and in an instant, the night was as bright as day.
“Not again,” Tuomas gasped.
“What is that?” someone cried. “Why are they doing that?”
“It’s a sign!”
“Something terrible is coming!”
“We don’t know that,” Enska said loudly, but even he couldn’t keep his voice from wobbling. Lilja’s eyes grew so wide, Tuomas could see her entire iris.
Then, just like the previous time, the final sparkling trails faded and the darkness was still once again.
Everyone froze, not daring to speak above a whisper. They bowed their heads and made the sign of the hand to ward off evil. Tuomas wasn’t sure it would do anything, but before he could even speak, a gust of freezing wind hit him. He put a hand on his head so his hat wouldn’t be whisked away.
He looked over his shoulder. An oppressive cloud was hanging heavy over the distant eastern horizon.
“That’s not good,” he muttered.
They couldn’t run in their skis, but Tuomas and Lilja quickened their pace at once. Behind them came the collective sounds of everybody else doing the same, and the herders began to call to the reindeer, urging them to move faster.
“We’re not far from the stop,” said Lilja.
Tuomas read between her lines at once. If they didn’t make it to the huts before the storm reached them, they could be battling through a whiteout – the last thing they needed at any time, but especially when half the village was ill.
The cloud encroached on them, growing and darkening until it blotted out the stars. The wind became bitter; it whipped up the loose snow and hurled it in all directions. It stung Tuomas’s cheeks like needles and he tugged his scarf right up to his eyes to shield himself. The reindeer were unfazed – the flurry didn’t even penetrate their thick coats – but they moved as swiftly as they could.
Mercifully, once the initial onslaught blew itself out, the wind moved behind the herd. After trying to move against it, everybody took advantage of it pushing from the back. Those on skis powered ahead; the reindeer broke into a trot. The cloud was above them now, and in the distance, snow began to fall. The wind caught it and turned it into a raging blizzard.
Tuomas had outrun one of these on the migration only once before. He had been younger; riding in a sleigh after annoying Paavo too much. All he’d had to do was sit there and let the others pave the way to safety.
Not this time.
He crested a small hill, and his heart raced with relief. Straight ahead were several squat huts, as low to the ground as they could be, roofs covered with several inches of snow.
Lilja saw them too. She slid down the slope with such speed, her braids flew out behind her. Enska followed with the village leaders. Tuomas worked to keep pace with them, quietly praying to the Spirit of the Winter Winds to keep the storm at bay until they were safe.
The first heavy snowflakes were falling by the time they reached the huts. Tuomas unlaced his skis and ran to a smaller hut where he knew a reserve of firewood would be kept. He loaded his arms with as many logs as he could carry, then hurried to each shelter, throwing as much as could be spared into the fire pits.
Icy wind battered him and snow blew in all directions. With every passing moment, visibility became worse and worse. Tuomas took a length of leather from his belt and tied it around his head so his hat wouldn’t be swept off. The reindeer huddled together in a giant group to wait it out. Those hitched up to the sleighs were freed so they could join them, and the strongest men quickly covered the bellies with tarps. Everyone else grabbed food, sleeping sacks, and the children.
Tuomas hoisted a coughing toddler into his arms, then noticed a man run past carrying Elin, still wrapped in the blanket from the sleigh. Relieved she was safe, he followed them towards the nearest hut. The snow blew hard into his face and almost knocked him over.
“It’s scary,” the little boy whimpered.
“Don’t worry,” Tuomas said as cheerfully as he could. “The Wind Spirits are just having a game, that’s all. They’re seeing who can make the strongest wind.”
“They’re all winning,” the boy muttered.
Tuomas leapt through the door and slammed it shut behind him. He peered through the gloom to see who he was sharing with.
His eyes found Elin first. Enska was kneeling next to her, coaxing a fire into life in the dusty hearth. Eevi was there too, along with her parents, who quickly introduced themselves as Frode and Ritva. Lilja had pressed herself into the furthest corner like a mouse, knees drawn up to her chest. The only other person was the man who had brought Elin inside.
Tuomas frowned. He wasn’t sure if he recognised him. The man seemed to realise though, and if he was offended, he didn’t show it.
“Stellan,” he said. “We met briefly when you came to Poro.”
Tuomas remembered at once: he was the one who had let him and Elin into the village. It seemed like an eternity ago now.
He smiled in greeting. “I’m sorry. Nice to see you again.”
“Likewise. I just wish it was under better conditions than this,” said Stellan.
The toddler in Tuomas’s arms spluttered. Enska noticed and picked him up, then laid him across his lap so he could feel the growing heat from the flames.
“Hey, Tarvo,” he said. “You’re being so brave.”
Tarvo coughed feebly.
“The Wind Spirits are winning… The little boy’s winning…” he breathed. “Can you ask him to stop? Please?”
Tuomas threw a worried glance at Enska. In the corner, Lilja screwed her eyes shut.
“Hush, now,” Enska whispered.
Tuomas sank down the wall until he was sitting next to Stellan, then loosened the cord around his hat and pulled it off. The snow caked to his clothes began to melt. As the fire gathered strength, the interior of the hut swam into view. It was a similar size to the ones
at Akerfjorden: about twelve feet wide, with a smoke hole in the roof. The floor was laid with overlapping birch twigs, all arranged in the same direction. Around the hearth were a series of flat stones to contain the logs. The walls, made from various layers of compacted turf, were supported by curving wooden beams; the branches had been sheared off to leave makeshift hooks for hanging clothes and food.
The entire place smelled stale; it had been six months since the herders had last passed through, and it showed. Some of the earth in the roof had crumbled and fallen away; the old reindeer hides on the floor stank of damp. But none of that mattered. The shelter was secure and it would be warm soon enough. It was all they needed to wait out the storm.
The fire flared into life and Enska placed a pot on the hearth, filled with snow. As soon as it melted, he dipped some wooden cups inside and passed them around.
“Thank you,” Tuomas gasped as he took a mouthful.
“You look as though you can’t wait for tea,” Enska smiled. He threw dried angelica and nettle into the pot and left them to simmer while he helped Tarvo to drink.
The wind howled between the huts. A flurry of snow forced itself through the smoke hole and swept the fire into a frenzy. Enska leaned back until it subsided so no flying sparks could catch on his clothes.
“Don’t worry,” he said, noticing the concern on Ritva’s face. “Our people have been making this journey since the very first reindeer walked the Northlands. Things will turn out fine.”
“Why were those stars falling?” Frode asked anxiously. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”
“Stars fall every night,” Enska replied.
Frode shook his head. “But not like that. Not all at once. You know that, Enska, don’t pretend it’s nothing. It happened a few days ago, too. Something’s wrong.”
“We have no reason to believe anything’s wrong,” Enska insisted. “And I also know that it’s important not to jump to conclusions. The truth is always deeper than what we may first think. Nothing bad has happened because of it so far; it’s not connected to the mist or the illness, that much I do know.”
His voice was kind, but firm, and Frode could do nothing but nod. Tuomas took comfort from it too. Neither Lilja nor the Sun Spirit had said it had anything to do with the plague. But then what was it?
“You’re a mage for a reason,” Frode said. “I’ll trust your word. Everything will be fine.”
“Sure, it will,” said Stellan. “You’re forgetting something else: we’ve got the Son of the Sun on our side. Can’t you just… blow the storm away or something?”
Tuomas’s expression dropped. In the shadows, Lilja raised her eyes to look at him.
“Hey, it was just a joke,” Stellan said quickly.
Tuomas knew it wasn’t, but he didn’t say anything. He could tell Ritva was staring at him and kept his gaze pointedly on the fire, watching as the herbs steeped into tea. But she didn’t stop, only cleared her throat to get his attention.
“How did you stop those things?” she asked. “What were they? What did they want?”
“They were draugars,” Enska answered. “They’re the ones causing the sickness. We’re doing what we can to figure out how to fix it, don’t worry.”
“How can we not worry?” Ritva insisted. “How did you stop them?”
“I put out a protective barrier,” Tuomas replied, still not looking at her. “It’s something all mages do.”
“Then… do you know something from the World Above? There were so many rumours that you ran away there.”
“I didn’t run away. It was a visit.”
Her eyes widened. “Well, what was it like? What did the Spirits tell you?”
“I don’t think Tuomas wants to talk about it, Ritva,” Lilja said. Her voice was polite, but belied a gentle warning.
“But, with all due respect, maybe he should,” Frode replied. “Maybe the answer to the sickness is up there. It’s so difficult to see the youngsters suffering like this. We’ve already lost our Niko.”
He caressed Eevi’s face and wiped away the sweat which had gathered on her cheeks. Every breath bubbled and cracked, as though her lungs were full of water.
Tuomas swallowed so hard, his throat hurt. Niko had to be one of the children who’d died on the Nordjarvi.
He threw a searching glance at Lilja and she looked straight back in confirmation. Her face was as composed as ever, but in the firelight, he could see her eyes blazing as she bit back tears. Enska noticed her struggling too, and took her hand in his. Tuomas observed how flippantly he seemed to do it, to not draw attention to her.
The sight brought a tiny smile to Tuomas’s face. Enska truly was one of the kindest people he’d ever known. Despite everything that had happened with Lilja, he remained her loving father, always there to help and comfort her.
“We will find a cure for this sickness,” said Enska gently. “I know it’s difficult to not worry, Frode. Especially after Niko and his friends. But we’re trying as hard as we can. And once we get to the coast, we can make all the youngsters more comfortable, and then work with the other mages.”
Ritva stifled a sob. “I can hardly bear it. It’s so awful! What have they done to deserve this?” She turned her eyes on Tuomas. “Can’t you do something?”
That caught Tuomas off guard and his words tumbled over each other.
“I’ve only been training since last summer. Enska and Lilja and Henrik and Aino are all more skilled…”
“But you’re the Son of the Sun!” Ritva insisted. “Surely you can do something! Please do something!”
Eevi coughed and specks of blood appeared on her chin.
Ritva’s sorrow broke her. She collapsed into Frode’s arms; her cries barely stifled by his coat. Tuomas looked at Enska and Lilja again, and noticed his own helplessness reflected in their eyes.
This must surely be the worst pain for a mage, he thought. To see such suffering, and have no way to stop it. Not even the ability to reach the Spirits for help.
Chapter Fifteen
Tuomas couldn’t move. His wrists were above his head, tied together and hooked over a rock. A demonic stink filled his nose, and something else: warped taika, twisted in a way it never should be. It pressed on him like a physical weight and made him feel sick. The air was so cold, every inhale stung his lungs.
Kari appeared. He untied Tuomas’s belt and coat, then sliced his tunic open until his torso was exposed to the elements.
“Help me!” Tuomas cried. “Somebody, please!”
Kari smiled at him.
“Time to see what the taika in that beating heart tastes like.”
“Help!” Tuomas screamed as the blade stabbed down on his chest. “Lumi!”
But she didn’t come. Pain fired through his skin. The sharpened flint inched its way through muscle and bone, deeper than ever before. And then Kari was standing over him, clutching a bloody heart…
He woke with a start.
He was in the hut. Not on the mountain, not a prisoner: safe and surrounded by his companions. Elin was right next to him, a grimace pinching her features. Beads of sweat had broken out on her forehead and left her fringe jumbled at every angle.
The blizzard was still raging; through the smoke hole, he saw no stars. But he could tell time had passed by the fire: it was smaller, and the shadows on the ceiling had grown longer as the flames dipped closer to the embers.
He sat up and buried his face in his hands. Tears welled and he let them fall. Terror still raced in his blood – the smell and pain lingered like phantoms.
“Get a hold of yourself,” he snarled under his breath. “He’s not coming back. You know he’s not…”
“Who are you talking to?”
He lowered his hands. Elin’s eyes were open. Despite everything, they still shone with her usual determination.
“Nobody,” he said, too quickly.
Elin wriggled a hand out of her sleeping sack and touched his arm. Even though she was lyi
ng right next to the hearth, her palm was freezing cold.
“Kari?” she asked.
Tuomas sighed. There was no point in lying to her. She had been up on the mountain too.
“I know it’s stupid,” he said. “The Great Bear Spirit took him away; when I spoke with the Sun Spirit, she said he can’t hurt me anymore. But…”
“It’s alright,” Elin assured him. “It’s not stupid. I understand.”
“I’m still scared of him.”
“I don’t blame you for that. But he’s gone. This was just a nightmare.”
“But what if it isn’t?” he whispered. “Dreams happen when the life-soul wanders… what if mine is going to where he is?”
“That’s not what’s happening, and you know it,” she replied steadily. “Life-souls don’t leave the World Between unless the body-soul dies.”
That was true. He made himself listen to her words, let them remind him that he was truly safe. Kari would never come back for him. The Spirits wouldn’t allow it. All this was just the aftermath of surviving the trauma.
He sat in silence for a few moments and allowed himself to breathe. When he felt under control, he looked back at Elin. She hadn’t taken her eyes off him. Even in the low light, he could see how bloodshot they were; how much her face had paled. Her cheeks were gaunt and tiny blood vessels marbled her clammy flesh.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“I’m fine.”
Tuomas couldn’t suppress a bemused chuckle. “Liar.”
Elin didn’t look away. “Where’s my bow?”
“In the sleigh, I think.”
“I want it.”
“In the morning,” he promised. “It’s still storming out there. Don’t worry, you don’t need it right now.”
“I know I don’t need it,” she shot back, “but I want it. It’s… like your drum, I suppose. I made it with my father. It helps.”
Tuomas gave her a gentle smile. “I understand. But believe me, you’re going to be alright. I’m going to do something about this.”
She covered her mouth with the edge of her sleeping sack and coughed.
“Like what? How can you fix sick souls? Has anyone ever done that before?”