Page 167 of North Is the Night
We’re in a densely forested wood, the trees dusted with snow. Through the gloom, I can make out the shape of a hill. It must be the Kipumäki, the famed hill where the twins weave their magic of pain and suffering. At the mere thought of them, the scars and wounds on my body cry out in pain.
“Nearly there,” Loviatar says.
The rich smell of conifers and clean scent of the snow become overwhelmed with a new smell. It’s briny, like water weeds left out to dry.
The river of death.
Aina holds tight to my hand as we push through the last of the trees. Before us, the black water courses silently past, lapping at the pebbles of the shore. My gaze settles on something looming in the middle of the river. The water ripples around it. This must be the island. And the veil waits for us just beyond. We’re so close.
“Hurry,” the witch whispers, standing at the water’s edge. “From here, we must swim.”
I tuck my axe into my belt and wade in. Aina takes the witch’s hand and they walk into the water together. I’m knee-deep, ready to brave the freezing water, when a shrill cackle rends the air.
“I thought I might find you all here,” a voice behind us purrs.
Dread sinks down to my bones. There, on the banks of the river of death, a haggard-looking woman stands in sweeping robes of glittering gold. Her corded grey hair is piled high on her head. She has a haunting, skull-like face, with dark eyes framed in shadows. I know she is Tuonetar, goddess of violent death.
The Witch Queen sneers, her lips curling over blackened teeth as she beckons to us with her willow wand. “Why don’t you step this way, and we can all have a nice little chat? It’s time to talk about actions... and consequences.”
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Aina
Tuonetar smirks, beckoning tous with her broken hand. Her wrist is marred with bruises and scorch marks. The cuffs of her golden robes are crusted with dried black blood. She’s free of her manacle, but it cost her dearly. Even now, her broken hand can barely clutch the wand. She keeps the other hand hidden in her robes; I have to believe it still wears its chains.
A witch at half power is still formidable.
“Mother,” Loviatar calls from the shore. “You don’t have to do this—”
“Silence!” Tuonetar shrieks, swiping the air with her wand.
Loviatar reels as if slapped.
“And who is this?” Tuonetar points at Siiri with her wand.
“My name is Siiri,” she calls over my shoulder.
Tuonetar takes in the tattoos on her hands and scowls. “You’re the shaman they’re all looking for?”
“Väinämöinen sends his regards,” she taunts.
The Witch Queen hisses at her before turning to me. “And where do you think you’re going, little maggoty mouse queen?”
I step in front of Siiri. “You have no power over me, witch. I wear the driftwood crown now. The dead answer to me.”
Her eyes narrow. “If I have no power over you... then why does your voice shake?”
Swallowing my nerves, I brush at the threads of my bond to Tuoni. He left the door ajar. He’s angry and he’s hurt, but he’s on the hunt. He fights for my safety. It’s all he wants. Will he ensure my safety even if it means losing me? He must see now that there is no way to secure his realm against the powers that threaten me.
Reaching out with an invisible hand, I pluck on the threads of our bond. He will come. I have to keep her talking until he does. This witch loves to hear herself speak.
Triumph glints in her eyes as she takes my silence for fear. She laughs, a high, rattling sound. “Oh, I have you cornered at last. I prepared all my traps, but you walked right into one of your own making.” She pulls a face of mock concern. “What will our poor, brokenhearted king say when he learns you mean to leave and take his unborn whelp with you?”
“Why should you care if I am gone?” I challenge.
“Because the whelp cannot be allowed to live! Have you learned nothing from your time here, you rotten wretch? I will not have my power eclipsed by a devious, grasping little mortal and her worthless mewling babe.”
“You interpret the prophecy looking only for your loss,” I counter. “What if this child is agiftfor Tuonela? Any new power given to a death god is power you will all share in. He could transform this realm. He could make everyone here better off—”
