The Mist Children

by E. C. Hibbs

Chapter Twenty-Seven

  There was a surprised gasp as people leapt away from the fire. Bowls of sautéed reindeer flew in all directions. Tuomas jumped out of the smouldering logs and tripped over one of the benches, falling flat into the snow.

  A pair of hands closed around the tops of his arms and pulled him upright. He looked into an old face criss-crossed with almost as many lines as Henrik’s. Several other people hovered around him in disbelief. They were the caretakers: those who had stayed behind to maintain the winter camp while everyone else took the herd to the coast.

  The man holding him didn’t let go.

  “What is this?” he asked. “Who are you?”

  “My name’s Tuomas. I was here during the Long Dark. I stayed with Sigurd and Alda.”

  Recognition flashed across the man’s face. He glanced at Tuomas’s hands and his eyes immediately latched onto the frostbitten stumps. He stepped away in awe and lowered his head.

  “Son of the Sun,” he gasped.

  Tuomas gritted his teeth. “Please. I don’t have time for this. Elin’s in danger.”

  The mention of Elin’s name snapped them all to attention.

  “Elin? What’s happened to her?” asked one of the women.

  “No time to explain,” said Tuomas as he tied his drum back onto his belt. “I need to borrow some skis from you. It’s urgent.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “The Northern Edge.”

  A nervous mutter flew around the group.

  “You can’t go that way,” a woman protested. “The snow’s too thick.”

  “Which is why I need skis.”

  “No, you don’t understand. You won’t be able to reach it even with skis. If you need to speak to the Spirits, you’re more than welcome to use our shrine, up on the mountain.”

  Tuomas swallowed and turned his eyes to the huge peak towering over the village. The mere sight of it brought forth a stab of panic. The last time he had been up there, Kari had almost murdered him.

  “No, thank you,” he said tightly.

  Another woman dashed over. “Wait a moment! Why’s your tunic torn? And where’s your coat? Aren’t you freezing?”

  “Not really,” said Tuomas. “Please, the longer I stay here, the less chance I have of helping Elin. I’ll dig through the snowdrifts if I have to, but I am going. So will you kindly lend me some skis now?”

  He tried to keep calm, but the words came out exactly how he felt: impatient and angry. The caretakers immediately sprang into action and fetched a pair of skis and poles from one of the huts. A woman came forward with a leather bag and thrust it into his arms before he could object.

  “It’s a day’s journey,” she said. “Please, take some food with you.”

  Tuomas gave her a grateful smile, then bent to strap the skis onto his shoes.

  “I’m sorry for being rude,” he said. “And for interrupting your dinner.”

  “It’s fine,” said one of the men. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing? It’s so dark out there… what if you hit a rock and break your ankle?”

  In answer, Tuomas picked up one of the flaming torches from beside the fire pit. Seeing that he wasn’t going to talk him out of it, the man sighed in defeat.

  “Wait,” he said, and shrugged out of his coat. He held it out and stood on the end of one ski so Tuomas couldn’t move. Tuomas accepted it with a small smile and the man took the torch while he pulled it on and fastened his belt around it.

  “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you all.”

  The man lowered his head in respect.

  “Go in peace, Son of the Sun.”

  Tuomas fought off a grimace and returned the gesture.

  “Stay in peace,” he replied, then he set out of the village, using the skis to glide down the small slope which the huts rested upon.

  He set his eyes on the North Star and thrust forward. In places, the land slanted at a gentle angle, allowing him to coast and pick up speed. The torch barely granted enough light to see by, but he let his eyes grow accustomed to the darkness and kept his attention on the horizon.

  Soon, Einfjall disappeared behind him and he emerged into the remote tundra. Sigurd hadn’t been lying: the entire desolate plain was still buried under thick snow. Hoar frost had spread across the surface and it crunched as his skis slid over it. It was frozen enough to take his weight, but he still moved with care, in case it gave way.

  Overhead, the Lights glowed even brighter than before. Lumi was as close to the boundary as she dared get. Tuomas heard her voice in his head as clearly as if she was standing beside him.

  What are you doing?

  What do you think I’m doing? he snapped.

  You cannot bring them back! I beg you, just help the Great Bear to trap the creatures and stop this from ever happening again!

  I will! Tuomas replied. But first, I’m going to save them. All of them. Enough is enough.

  Do you think you are the first to try that? And all of them failed! Henrik, Lilja…

  They weren’t me.

  He pushed forwards stubbornly over the crest of a hillock.

  Tuomas, listen to me! Lumi shouted.

  I’m bringing them back, he said. My mind is made up. The Earth Spirits can help me. They’re closer to the draugars than you are.

  They cannot help! Why will you not stop and listen to me?

  Tuomas glared up at her.

  Because I won’t leave Elin to those things! Or Paavo or Sisu or any of them! And you’ve seen how much Lilja has suffered. She needs her son back. I will find a way. You can’t stop me.

  Suddenly, the Lights raged. The entire sky roared and a green jet shot towards him, knocking him to the ground. The torch flew from his grasp and skittered across the ice. The aurora pressed on his chest, holding him down with unbelievable power. He could barely breathe. Every hair stood on end and his heart raced inside his chest.

  The Lights slowly morphed into the form of a girl with white hair and blazing eyes. Her pointed fox ears were flat against her head. She wasn’t there, not completely; she was still in the World Above, but her strength reached through the skin like a storm.

  I cannot stop you? she snarled, snatching his throat in one hand. How dare you speak like that to me!

  Tuomas glared at her. I’m just as strong as you and we both know it. I’m not afraid of you, Lumi.

  Well, maybe you should be afraid, she said. Maybe I should make you afraid again, so you cower before me like you once did!

  Is that what you want? I thought you said I was your equal!

  No equal of mine dares to insult me!

  What are you going to do, then? Turn my hair white? Rip my soul away to teach me a lesson?

  The words were out before he could stop them.

  Lumi’s furious expression lapsed, first into shock, then hurt, and then back again to rage. Her hand tightened around his throat, making him gasp for air. Tuomas clutched at her wrist but his fingers passed straight through her, as though she was nothing more than smoke.

  What kind of Spirit do you call yourself? Lumi hissed coldly. I never should have taken you to the World Above!

  She leapt off him and disappeared back into the sky as quickly as she had come. The Lights swept the stars, coating the Northlands in an angry flare of red, before blinking out altogether.

  Tuomas lay there for a moment, getting his breath back.

  Lumi? he called. Lumi, please, I’m sorry…

  She didn’t respond. There wasn’t even the faintest flash to show she had heard him.

  He stood up, locking his skis together so he wouldn’t slip. Pain and grief dug into him like needles. He had lost Paavo and Elin, fallen out with Mihka, alienated Lilja and now Lumi…

  He wiped away his tears. Lumi might have disappeared, but the Moon Spirit was still there, shining her silvery face down onto the tundra. He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of watching him cry.

  In sullen silence, he snatched his ski poles a
nd torch from where they had fallen and carried on into the north.

  As Tuomas travelled, the snow became deeper. A chill came off the fresh powder and crept up his legs. He was aware of it, but it didn’t cause him discomfort, so he carried on. He didn’t even stop to eat his flatbread. The miles fell behind him, though he felt as though he was barely moving. Everywhere he looked was the same: flat whiteness and dark sky. No trees grew and the few shrubs which might have taken root were buried.

  The sky lightened and the Sun Spirit peered over the horizon to his right. As soon as it was bright enough to see, he discarded the torch. Ahead, the snow built into a massive mound, and although its slope appeared gentle, Tuomas could tell there was no way he would be able to climb it. Thick ice had coated the surface; grip would be non-existent.

  He drew to a halt in front of it. It reared fifteen feet high, rendered a faint blue by the low angle of the light. He touched it with his fingertips, then stuck his ski poles into the snow and untied his drum.

  He took a deep breath and focused. His taika pulsed, not just with power, but with pain and anger. It flickered like a flame and every beat of his heart hurt. The lingonberries tasted sour; the heat of the Sun Spirit further away than normal. It was so dense; he almost lost his balance. But he forced himself to stand his ground, and beat the drum.

  A shockwave blasted through the snowbank. Powder flew into the sky and left a thin channel in the centre. It wasn’t enough, so Tuomas hit out at it again, pushing further and harder. This time, he broke all the way to the other side and the entire mound parted down the middle.

  He struggled to breathe. His muscles screamed from the effort. He was tempted to sit down and recover, but shook his head before he could succumb. The longer he waited, the more time slipped by since Elin had been dragged away. And she had to be still alive. He refused to let himself think she wasn’t.

  He pushed on and slid between the walls of snow. Eventually, he made it through and the ground gradually dipped towards a giant lake. It was still far in the distance, but he could tell it was larger than the Nordjarvi and almost as wide as the tip of the Mustafjord.

  Relief sang in his blood. There was snow on the frozen surface, but nothing too thick, and no mist. The worst was over.

  By the time he reached it, the Sun Spirit was at her highest in the sky and turned the landscape into a palette of lilac and gold. He tested the ice, making sure it would take his weight, then slipped out of his skis and left them at the edge. He walked towards the centre, where a perfectly circular hole opened onto a pool of water darker than night. The edges were smooth and shining, made not by any blade, but by taika.

  His taika.

  He knelt beside it and ran his hand around the hole. He couldn’t believe he had done this: opened the only physical gateway between Worlds. For countless generations, it had lain here unchanging, and all because of him.

  He sat down, drew a circle around himself and began to chant. He followed it with a steady beat, letting warmth gather in his belly, spreading out his taika, pushing it deep into the ice.

  After several long moments, a light appeared in the hole, bringing with it a sound like a waterfall crashing over rocks. It grew and grew, until it hit the edges, and Tuomas leapt back as the herd of spectral reindeer burst onto the surface. They ran straight out from the gateway in all directions, galloping through him as though he wasn’t even there.

  He hugged his drum to his chest and jumped through.

  Like last time, he didn’t hit the water; he simply fell. Air tore past his face, whistling in his ears. The surroundings lost their coldness and became damper, milder. He inched his eyes open and found himself plummeting towards an identical lake, the trees around its shores ablaze with leaves of red and gold.

  He landed in a boat positioned directly underneath him. He forgot to brace himself and cried out in pain. The entire vessel jolted as he hit it and the front flipped up, but didn’t tip over.

  Amazed he hadn’t broken a bone, he looked around. He was alone; there wasn’t a single Spirit in sight, but he could still sense them in the air. And simply being on the lake made him uneasy. It was glassy and perfect now, but he didn’t want to risk the draugars sensing him. At least, not yet.

  He fetched an oar from the bottom of the boat and hurriedly rowed to the nearest bank. As soon as the keel scraped the ground, he stumbled out. Then he slid his antler hammer into his belt, picked up his drum and walked away with it hanging in his hand. He felt safe, but wanted to be able to hit it if he needed to.

  Under his feet, the ground was soft and spongy, softened by several inches of leaf litter and rotting pinecones. Mushrooms sprouted from the carved tree trunks here and there, their pales heads fanned out to expose the filigree underneath. He touched them as he passed and watched them spring back when he let go.

  The World Below was the opposite of the World Between. If spring was approaching up there, then autumn would be coming here. And as it had been day when he left, now it was twilight.

  As he headed into the forest, the occasional white reindeer raised its head to watch him, black eyes unblinking, antlers more glorious than any borne by their kin in the other World. He paused to look at them. These were the children of the ones he had been gifted a long time ago, with their magical milk and pelts paler than the purest snow. He remembered his vision on the Mustafjord, when he had worn a coat made from their fur.

  He carried on and followed a faint path which wound its way through the ancient trees. Eventually, he arrived at the place he had been looking for: a gaping cave mouth. On the stony wall either side of it were two flaming torches. He made his way inside, descending far away from the light, deep into the earth.

  It didn’t take long for him to start worrying he had taken a wrong turn. The last time he was here, one of the Earth Spirits had met them on the shore of the lake and brought them into the cave, to a giant cavern decorated with paintings and carvings. He’d never been here alone before. What if he got lost and never found his way out?

  The tunnel suddenly branched into two before him. A ghostly light was emanating from the nearest one. Tuomas stared at it with interest. It was bright and yet pale, as though it wasn’t being cast by anything at all, but was rather its own entity.

  Curiosity got the better of him. Maybe the Earth Spirits had sent it to show him which way to go.

  He headed towards it. The stone walls grew tight around him, and he worried he might get stuck if he went much further. But then they suddenly opened like a flower and he stepped out into a massive expanse.

  His feet sank into a powdery substance. At first, he thought it was snow, but when he bent to touch it, he was alarmed to find it was something else. Not snow, not sand… yet the colour of ash, every ridge and crest bound in shades of grey.

  The sky overhead was complete black. In fact, the more he looked at it, the less sure he was that it even was a sky. There were no stars, no clouds… it was darker than anything he had ever seen. His body cast no shadows, as though the flat light was coming from every direction at the same time.

  Not a single gust of wind blew; no noise was to be heard. Tuomas felt like the only living thing which had ever stood here, and it chilled him deeper than he ever thought possible.

  In the distance, something caught his eye. He squinted at it, trying to make it out.

  It was a river. Its waters wound around the desert like a serpent, somehow both black and white; opaque and also transparent, shimmering with light and yet dark with shadows. One moment it raged, and then it was calm, then somewhere in-between; currents lapping against the ashy banks as though alive.

  He went to move towards it, but a hand came down on his shoulder and stopped him.

  “Not a step further, Tuomas Sun-Soul.”

  He spun around and found himself face to face with an Earth Spirit. Its entire form was made of overlapping autumnal leaves, from skin and hair to clothes and shoes. Seeds and nuts hung across its front like buttons; a cro
wn of mushrooms grew out of its scalp in a perfect circle.

  “What is that?” he asked.

  “That is the Night River,” said the Spirit. “The border of the Deathlands.”

  An involuntary shudder passed through Tuomas’s body.

  “Why did you bring me here?” he asked, scared to even speak loudly.

  “You came here yourself,” the Spirit replied. “You came looking for death. This is the only place in the World Below where you may find it.”

  Tuomas fought back a flare of panic.

  “Is Elin here? Or Paavo?”

  “No,” said the Spirit. “None of those taken by the draugars are here. They are outside the grasp of the White Fox One, and also of the Horse-Riding One.”

  Tuomas frowned. He had heard Lumi speak that title before. Then he remembered Henrik’s words when Aslak had told the story around the fire, and realisation settled on his chest like a spreading frost.

  “The Spirit of Death,” he said.

  “There is no need to be afraid,” said the Earth Spirit, “if you do not walk any closer. You must be dead to enter that domain, and you are very much alive, Red Fox One.”

  At that moment, a horrible thought crossed Tuomas’s mind.

  “Is that where Kari is?” he asked.

  His companion nodded. “Yes.”

  “Then he’s trapped there?”

  “The Horse-Riding One released his life-soul, to go on and give new life to another. But his body-soul will remain there.”

  Despite all the evil Kari had spread, Tuomas couldn’t hold back a wrench of sympathy. He knew that was the way things were done: the two souls would be separated after death. But in practically all cases he was aware of, the body-soul went to the World Above, to Lumi, to dance in the Lights and be reunited with its ancestors. Kari would not have that. He would be down here forever, alone. When it was time for Enska and Lilja to die, they would never be reunited.

  “He made his choice,” said the Spirit. “If he had behaved differently, then things would also have been different.”

  “I know,” said Tuomas. “That’s where the Great Bear Spirit will trap the draugars too, isn’t it?”