Page 11 of North Is the Night
“No,” she corrects, her grey gaze level. “They are in the realm of the dead... but I believe they may yet be alive.”
“Why?” Aksel asks again.
“I don’t know,” she admits. She places her fingertips against her temples, massaging in small circles. “Kalma may have some need of them, I suppose. And the Witch Queen is a devious woman. She loves to torture mortals with her Beer of Oblivion—”
I grip the table with both hands.
“Kaisa,” Father says, casting a pleading glance my way.
Mummi glances at me too. “Oh—oh, my dear girl, I’m sorry.” She wraps her strong arms around me. “I shouldn’t have said that out loud. I was merely thinking—”
“But you think that’s what happened to her.” Holding back my tears, I push away. “You think she’s been taken to Tuonela, to what end? To be tortured?”
Aksel reaches across the table, squeezing my arm. “Perhaps Aina has beenchosen,” he offers. “She and the other girls may have been selected to be handmaidens for the death goddesses. They could even serve Tuoni himself. It would be a great honor.” He glances from Mummi to our father. “It’s possible, right?”
I look to Mummi, anxious to see her face. Mummi raised me on stories of Tuonela. The stories don’t tell of the Witch Queen’s supper parties. They tell of torture and strife, violence and death.
In these last few years alone, their need to cause pain and suffering seems unmatched. So much senseless violence, so much cruel, wasteful death—young women in childbirth, hunting accidents, a boy drowned in the stream, his little lips so pale and blue. Animals inexplicably sicken and waste away. Even our crops suffer.
It’s as if death has forgotten the importance of life. It chokes us, the ever-firm hand at our throat. And in the chaos of all this overwhelming death, the Swedes and their bloodthirsty god swept in with a vengeance, preying on our weaknesses, dividing us like sheep before the slaughter.
I stare blankly into the depths of the hearth, not feeling its warmth. This is all my fault. Kalma was after me. If only I hadn’t chosen to fight. Why do Ialwaysfight? Why can I never yield? I should have sacrificed myself to the goddess. Aina would be safe, and I would be in Tuonela right now, fighting with every breath to escape.
Will Aina do the same? Will she fight to return home to me?
I want to believe. Gods, Ihaveto believe she has the strength to fight. Everyone likes to dismiss Aina, but they don’t know her the way I do. Yes, she’s quiet. She’s patient and reserved. She keeps her opinions to herself, especially in company. But she has them. She’s never held back with me, never been afraid to speak her mind. Unlike me, however, she doesn’t trample people to do it.
Can she survive in Tuonela? Or will her kindness be her undoing?
I can’t risk it. I can’t sit idly by and wait to see if she frees herself. “I have to save her,” I whisper, letting the words fortify my very bones.
Father sighs, his weathered hand brushing my hair. “Your passion does you credit, Siiri. But if a death goddess has indeed taken Aina, we should pray they are merciful to her... and then we should grieve with her family as they mourn her loss.”
“I’ll bring them a haunch tomorrow,” Mummi offers. “Some eggs and bread.”
“We can bring it for you,” Aksel says with a nod at Onni.
I glance between them, my eyes narrowing in disgust. Oh gods,gods. They’re planning Aina’s funeral! My hands shake as I push onto my feet. “Stop.”
“Siiri—” Father reaches for me, but I step away. “My child, you must accept—”
“No! She’s not dead until I see her body with my own two eyes.” I turn to my grandmother. “Mummi, you said it yourself, she’s in Tuonela, and she’s alive.” Taking a deep breath, I square my shoulders. “And I’m going to bring her home.”
Behind me, Onni huffs, arms crossed over his barrel chest. He’s been spending too much time with those damned Christian priests who haunt our village every summer. Just two nights ago, he sat at this very table telling us that the old gods are dead. Now he’s seen a goddess with his own eyes and he’s still choosing not to believe?
“I feel sorry for you,” I say to him. “Onni, where is your faith? Where is your hope?”
Next to him, Aksel looks just as incredulous. “What will you do, little sister? No mortal can get into Tuonela, not if they plan to come back alive.”
“I don’t know,” I admit, crossing my arms and turning back to stare at the flames. “Not yet. But Iwillsave her. Ilmatar hear me, I will save Aina.”
4
Siiri
I stay up formost of the night. Curled by the hearth, I try to recall every story Mummi ever told us about Tuonela and the death gods: the black river, impassable except by the ferrywoman’s boat; the twin witches of pain and suffering; horses made of goblin fire; armies of the restless dead.
By the time my father and brothers wake, I’ve prepared the porridge, and I’m seated at the table waiting. “I need to go see Milja,” I say as soon as Father sits.
