by E. C. Hibbs
Lilja shrieked, but Enska pinned her before she could move. The draugars all squealed in panic, as though they were one enormous creature. Sisu tackled Aki and the two of them crashed under the surface with a splash.
Immediately, the draugars withdrew. The one clinging to Tuomas let go of him and dived. Their dreadful drowning voices vanished, leaving only a cutting silence.
“Father!” Mihka screamed. “Father, come back! Father!”
He crawled to the edge of the boat, but Enska snatched him and pulled him to safety. As soon as he let go of her, Lilja dived over the side.
“No!” cried Enska.
“Hold!” Sigurd snapped. Everyone on the beach lowered their bows.
Henrik and Stellan watched in horror as Lilja faded into the gloom. Tuomas trembled, not even daring to blink. A faint trail of bubbles popped where she had disappeared.
He held a hand to his mouth. Had her heavy layers pulled her down? Had the draugars seized her too?
When he could hardly stand it any longer, she burst back to the surface.
“He’s gone!” she cried. “They’re all gone!”
Mihka screamed: a terrible sound, as though his heart had been torn in two. He beat his fists against Enska’s chest, but he had no strength and collapsed, gasping for breath.
Lilja floated still in the water. Ignoring his own concern, Tuomas flung his drum down, stripped out of his coat and jumped in.
He paused as he landed, getting his bearings, listening in case there was still any draugars lurking about. But there was nothing. Lilja was right: they had all vanished.
The mist swarmed around him; when he breathed it in, he tasted it, heavy with decay and taika. But it wasn’t the taika of any mage who had drummed with him just now. It was so simple, like a child’s drawing in the snow. He saw bright colours; smelled woodsmoke; heard happy laughter ringing across the tundra. Then a smile as warm adult arms beckoned for an embrace. Lilja’s arms.
Aki’s taika. She had been right; it was strong. Just as strong as her own.
Tuomas swam through the mist until he was treading water in front of her. She didn’t react, so he grabbed her shoulders to get her attention.
“They’re all gone…” she breathed. “He took them all away…”
“Lilja,” Tuomas said. “We need to go.”
She looked at him. Her face was vacant with shock and pain. Tuomas didn’t wait; he took her hand and started dragging her towards the shore. The two of them crawled wretchedly onto the shingle.
Seeing that it was safe, the villagers ran forward to help. Enska and Stellan rowed closer and everyone dragged the boats free of the waves. As soon as he was within wading distance, Enska leapt out, landing in waist-deep water, and splashed his way to Lilja. He eased her to her feet and she staggered against him, barely able to take her own weight.
“Come on,” he whispered. “This isn’t where you want to be right now.”
“He took them all,” Lilja said again, her voice hollow. “Why did he take them? They were innocent…”
“Lilja!” Enska snapped. He shook her firmly. “Stop it! This isn’t your fault! Now, come with me.”
He wrapped his coat around her and ushered her up the beach.
Now the danger was over, the air filled with horrified cries. First Tuomas recognised Mihka; then Hekla; and finally, the same one he’d heard in the pass: Ritva.
He looked back at the misty water, imagining Eevi and Jaana sinking to the bottom, down to the space between Worlds… Was Sisu still alive, fighting against the monsters, or had he already drowned?
A shiver ran through him and he was tempted to dive after them as Lilja had, but he knew it was too late.
He helped Henrik out of the boat, snatched his drum from where he had thrown it and checked it for damage. It was a little wet and the skin had loosened, but there were no holes and the paintings hadn’t bled. He tied it back onto his belt.
“I lost the hammer,” he muttered.
“Better you lost that than the drum,” Henrik replied.
“Tuomas!” Aino called. “Where are you? Tuomas!”
“Here!” he shouted.
He spotted her at the other end of the beach. She waved him over desperately.
Tuomas’s stomach twisted into a knot. She was standing by the flat rock where Paavo had been placed.
Paavo.
Fear lent him new speed. He sprinted over, sending pebbles flying. Paavo was paler than snow, blood smeared around his mouth. Tendons stood out in his neck like ropes. His eyes were roving and unfocused.
“His heartbeat’s jumping,” Aino whispered, but there was no mistaking the darkness in her voice.
Tuomas stared at her. “No.”
She shook her head gently.
“No!” Tuomas snapped. He laced his fingers around his brother’s. “Paavo? Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”
Paavo’s breath crackled, then mist poured from between his lips and began to wrap around him.
Tuomas shrieked. He tried to claw the tendrils away but they slipped straight through his grasp. Remembering what Enska had done with Eevi, he leant over Paavo, checked to make sure his mouth was clear, then blew hard into his lungs. He tasted blood, but he kept going, pinching Paavo’s nose shut so no air could escape.
Paavo stiffened beneath him, and Tuomas hurriedly drew back so he could cough. Blood flew from his lips and splattered down Tuomas’s front.
“Henrik!” Tuomas shouted. “Henrik, please… Paavo, look at me!”
Paavo spluttered something unintelligible. His eyes rolled back, exposing the whites, bloodshot and sickly.
Aino pressed her fingers to his wrist. Tuomas noticed and slapped her away.
“No, you don’t need to do that!” he barked. “He’s not dead! Paavo, come on! Say something!”
He swept at the mist so savagely, his nails left marks down Paavo’s skin. Then he snatched his arms and shook him as hard as he could. Tears blurred his vision.
“Paavo! Don’t you dare leave me! You promised me!”
Paavo coughed one last time. Then he let out a long sigh, and was still. The mist around his throat floated into the empty air.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The next three days passed in a haze. Every dawn brought new pain. The only ones who didn’t seem fazed were the reindeer, who had no sooner recovered from their fright when they began helping themselves to the rich lichen underfoot. The giant herd spread out across the island and the villagers left them to do as they wanted. The Spirit of Motherhood flew through on a warming southern wind. A few of the females started to drop their calves and Anaar was filled with the bleating of young deer. Within a few hours of being born, they were on their feet and following their mothers around.
From his seat on a slab of exposed rock, Tuomas watched one of his own suckle her baby. She was used to him, but still kept her distance behind the trees, and Tuomas made no move to approach her.
Even up here, near the cliffs, he heard the sound of weeping. It carried on the wind no matter where he went. Part of him wanted to be with everyone in their shared grief, but he couldn’t bear to face them and see his own hurt looking back at him.
Never had he felt so sad, so alone. He’d been very young when Paavo swept in to act as his parent. Paavo had raised him, dressed him, cooked his meals, tucked him into his sleeping sack and told him scary stories. Here and at the Mustafjord, they had lain together in the same shelter, shared their food, learned how to live.
To have all that suddenly ripped away was indescribable. He couldn’t help but remember the fear from just a few months ago, when Kari had tricked him with an illusion, pretending his brother had been killed and skinned. When Tuomas had returned to Akerfjorden to find Paavo safe and sound, he felt as though his heart might have exploded. Now, a part of that same heart had died with him.
The Sun Spirit was beginning to appear in the east. As her rays hit the island, the snow sparkled as though the stars had sprinkled the groun
d with their dust. It was earlier than when she had risen at the start of the migration, but Tuomas hardly noticed. For the first time in his life, the gradual return of the light left no effect upon him at all. A dark cloud had swept in and obscured her from reaching him.
He hadn’t even found the strength to speak to Lilja. He had barely seen her since the incident at the beach; she’d kept to herself in the hut she and Enska had claimed. Every time he noticed her, her features were pinched and her eyes held a peculiar fusion of numbness and furious sorrow. She looked how he felt, and that hurt more than he had expected it to.
Behind him, the snow crunched with footsteps. He could tell it wasn’t a reindeer, but he still didn’t turn around. The smallest movement was an effort.
“Tuomas?” a voice said – a woman. Alda. “You need to come down to the village.”
“Why?” he asked. “The funerals aren’t until later.”
She slid a hand onto his shoulder and gently squeezed.
“The mages want to speak to everyone before that.”
“How did you know where I was?”
“I saw you leave this morning. I followed your tracks.”
Tuomas didn’t look at her. “How’s Elin?”
Alda’s breath caught and she swallowed hard.
“She’s… well, she’s Elin. She fighting it. I’ve told her to rest; Sigurd’s looking after her at the moment.”
She moved so she was standing in front of him. “Tuomas, I hate to ask you this… I know you’ll hate me for asking… but is she going to die?”
Tuomas’s throat tightened. He bit his lip and gripped the hem of his tunic with such vigour, it almost tore.
“Are you asking me as a mage,” he asked, “or as the Son of the Sun?”
Alda’s guilty expression betrayed her. He hauled himself off the rock and stormed back down the route she had taken. Alda raced after him.
“Tuomas!” she cried. “Please, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean…”
“I don’t know!” he said, wheeling around to let her see his face. His eyes blazed with grief and fear. “That’s the answer. I don’t know anything right now. Alda… if only you knew… you have no idea what I’m having to deal with, and I don’t just mean Paavo! This whole thing, Spirit in human form, the Great Mage reborn… I’m still me, and everybody seems to have forgotten that! Don’t you see the way people look at me? The way you’re looking at me?”
The outburst left him breathless. He clutched at a nearby tree to hold himself up, then angrily smacked snow off the low-hanging branches.
“That was why I went to the World Above in the first place: I knew it wouldn’t be as it was before. I should have stayed there… things would have been so much better if I’d just stayed –”
Alda sprang forward and pulled him into her arms. The embrace happened so fast, Tuomas couldn’t bear to push her away. She rested her chin on the top of his head and rocked him gently back and forth until he relaxed.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “That was unfair of me. I’m just frightened… but I know you are as well.”
Tuomas screwed his eyes shut, but tears still escaped.
“I don’t know what I can do…”
“Hush. It’s alright,” she whispered. “It will be fine. We all have to believe that.”
Tuomas let out a sob, then drew away from her to collect himself. She stood back until his shoulders had stopped shaking, then took his hand tenderly and eased him down the path of footprints.
They descended through the forest in a gentle slope, placing their shoes carefully to avoid slipping on the snow. It had started to melt in places, only to re-freeze and leave treacherous patches of black ice. They held onto the trees as they passed, and eventually emerged into the village.
It was practically identical to the Akerfjorden camp at the Mustafjord: a collection of turfed huts all arranged around a central large fire pit. The roofs touched the ground in places and insects had eaten through some of the walls, but people had tried to keep themselves busy by patching holes and repairing doors. Practically every shelter rang with coughs.
The sound shook Tuomas to his souls. In every snatched breath, he heard Paavo; saw his face.
How many more dead faces would he have to see before this was over? He imagined an entire generation wiped out, their lungs filled with blood and stinking water, mist choking their lives away…
He bit his lip to stop himself from crying again and walked over to the crag at the edge of the settlement. Henrik, Aino, Niina, Enska and Lilja were already standing atop it, where they could see everybody gathered below. They all looked at Tuomas as he approached, except Lilja. Her eyes were fixed straight ahead, over the heads and roofs; and when he stepped up to her level, he could see why. In the distance was the beach, and the sea, with a faint cloud of mist still lying over the water like a blanket.
Henrik held up one hand for silence.
“We have something to tell you,” he said, his deep voice carrying easily through the air. “We’ve been working very hard – as hard as we can on a migration – to manage the sickness. But now we’re all together; the mages have been able to convene. And… the illness is a soul plague. It appears in the mist and spreads to the youngsters, because they have the most life left to live.”
The entire crowd muttered. Tuomas noticed many people making the sign of the hand against evil. He was almost tempted to do it himself.
“Did those monsters have anything to do with it?” an Einfjall man asked from the front.
“Yes, Dagen,” said Enska. “They are called draugars.”
A few of the older people cried out in recognition.
“But those are just stories we were told as children!” one woman insisted. “The young ones probably don’t even know a thing about them!”
“Then what about the little boy?” another asked. “What does he have to do with anything?”
As inconspicuously as he could, Tuomas glanced at Lilja. Her face was unreadable, perfectly hiding every emotion, but she put her hands behind her back and dug her fingers together hard.
“A child already taken by them,” Enska said simply. “I want you all to know that we’re working to find a cure. This will not destroy us. When our ancestors took their first steps into the Northlands, they laid down a legacy of overcoming adversity. We are that legacy. That same power runs in our blood. Since the beginning of time, we have survived the storms. We have survived the Long Dark. We have survived lean hunts and bad calf seasons. We will survive this, too.”
Despite the worry permeating everyone’s thoughts, Enska’s words raised a small cheer. Even Tuomas felt uplifted by them. He knew the mages were doing all they could; every night since the attack in the channel, he had heard them chanting around the fires, trying desperately to connect with the Spirits for help. But each time, they were left disappointed.
Because of him.
As dusk spread a lilac cast over the land, the mages led the way to the Anaar shrine. Enska went first with Lilja; then Aino and Niina. Lastly, Henrik and Tuomas brought up the rear, and everyone else followed.
The three head mages wore their full ceremonial headdresses: Enska’s antlers were black against the fading light; Aino’s traditional Einfjall fringe was hidden behind a string of reindeer teeth; and Henrik had strapped two sides of a jawbone across his scalp. All six of them had smeared their faces with ash from the central fire pit, drawn as the circular symbols of death and rebirth. With every step, they intoned a long mournful chant, the sounds all blending into each other to signify the never-ending cycle of life. Six flaming torches were carried between them: one for each of the dead.
Tuomas did his best to stay calm. This wasn’t the first funeral he had attended, but it was the first at Henrik’s side. He had to hold himself together for everyone else’s benefit; play the part he had so desperately craved twelve months ago. The ash made his cheeks itch, but he ignored it.
For the most part, the ritual would
be a token one. Only Paavo had a body to be buried. The day before, Tuomas and Henrik had sewn him into a shroud made of birch bark. As the Akerfjorden mages, it was their responsibility to tend to him. When his entire figure was covered, they had fetched alder bark, mixed it to paste and painted symbols all over the shroud. They gave Paavo images of reindeer, so he would still have his portion of the herd; a bow and arrow for plentiful hunting; a tent for warm shelter on the cold routes to the other Worlds.
Tuomas wished it was that simple. Had he died any other way; all those promises would be waiting for him, up there among the dances of Lumi’s Lights. But in the grasp of Aki’s taika, he could be anywhere. That was the most harrowing thing of all: the souls may not rest, couldn’t come and go to check on their loved ones still living. And nobody would ever know.
The shrine was a large circular pond in the middle of the island, in which sat a beautifully-smoothed boulder. Pink crystals in the stone caught the light and reflected it like a million diamonds. Numerous shed antlers were scattered along its bank, along with strands of hair, strips of clothing, bone needles and beads… too many offerings to count. Some of them were recent, placed there only a few days ago by mages and villagers alike.
Tuomas noticed one which made his heart jolt: an arrow pierced with a length of long black hair. Sigurd and Alda had left it for Elin.
He, Lilja and Niina spun a circle between them, walking around the shrine and beating their drums. Tuomas had substituted his missing hammer with a small antler. He could fashion a proper head for it later, but it meant he had to concentrate on not hitting the skin too hard with the exposed root.
He and the others continued the chant, letting it evolve into a prayer for the Spirits. When the circle was complete, they all laid something of value on the ground: tools, fish hooks, pieces of embroidery, heather gathered from around the island. Lilja deposited one of her intricately decorated cooking utensils. Tuomas could barely imagine how long it must have taken her to carve such detail into the bone, but she gave it over anyway with a bow so deep, her braids touched the earth.