Page 176 of North Is the Night
“Your henki,” I say in awe. By the power of Tuonetar’s curse, it now belongs to me. The Witch Queen’s curse came with a cost she failed to calculate: she will never claim his soul. Väinämöinen’s henki places his hands on my shoulders and pulls himself forward, stepping inside me.
Lumi wails, hand falling away from the arrow still lodged in her chest.
All around us, the few remaining wolves howl with her in her grief.
The power of Väinämöinen’s magic courses through me, burning like a fire, even as it roots itself like a tree. It weaves into every part of me—my muscles, my bones. I feel it rising up my throat and shooting down to the tips of my fingers. The strength of twenty men courses through me. Lightning crackles at my fingertips. I am not the Väinämöinen who could barely lift a sword, ready to succumb to the long dying. His body lies next to me in the snow. I am young. I am strong. I am the Väinämöinen of the stories and songs. I am the shaman of the ages.
Bending down, I pick up my fallen sword. It feels like an extension of my arm. I face Lumi, taking in the witch’s many injuries. Her bloody fingers slacken on the hilt of her sword. I can see bone through the torn flesh of her shoulder. Her right arm hangs limp and useless. If she doesn’t use what power she still has to save herself, she’ll likely bleed out and die.
I lower my sword. “I’m done with killing for today,” I say, my voice rich and powerful. “Väinämöinen’s magic is safe. Take your wolves and go. Never return.”
“There is no honor in retreat!”
“There’s no death in it either, you rotten witch! I’ve seen enough of death for ten lifetimes. You don’t want to go to Tuonela. There’s no victory for you there.”
I can see the anguish etched on the beautiful lines of her face. “This was my path,” she says hopelessly. “You’ve taken everything from me. I can’t walk away. I can’t change course now. It’s not in my nature.”
I sigh, shaking my head. “You witches and your twisted natures. Why do you bring this pain on yourself? What dark power possesses you? Look around. Nature changes all the time. Dare to think your life could be more. It could be different.”
She glares at me, still swaying on her feet.
“I’m giving you one chance to walk away,” I call to her. “Take it, or perish, Lumi.”
For a moment, the witch considers. With tears in her eyes, she looks at the carnage in the clearing. So much blood. So much death. Her injured shoulder sags, and she drops her sword. “There is nothing left. I have nothing.”
“You were as much a slave to Väinämöinen’s curse as he was,” I say, realizing the truth of my words. “But you are more than this failed quest. You are powerful and beautiful, Lumi. Go live on your own terms.”
She swallows, her eyes shutting tight as she winces in pain. “And watch from afar as you wield my magic?”
I stiffen, my hand gripping my sword more tightly. “It was never yours. Väinämöinen chose his fate. He choseme. You cannot have this power. So, I repeat, leave now... or die.”
Lumi snarls at me, her face a mask of sorrow and rage. I can feel her wolves pacing in the darkness, waiting for the word from their mistress to strike again. The witch holds my gaze. “Give me a clean death, shamaness.”
My mind courses with all the memories I now share with Väinämöinen. I remember Lumi in all our past battles. I can feel Ajatar’s hand at my throat as she sealed Tuonetar’s curse on me. I fight a moan, biting my lip, as memories of the pain of the long dying make me want to weep. Gods, he was in so much pain for so long. I truly was his deliverance. I ended his suffering.
Just as Väinämöinen chose his death, I must now extend the same courtesy to Lumi. “So be it.” Stepping forward, I raise my sword. The snow witch stands her ground, determined to die on her feet. Väinämöinen’s light crackles over my shoulders and down my arms to my massive blade. “Lumi, daughter of Ajatar, I return you to the warm embrace of the All-Mother.”
I swing once, high and fast. Lumi’s knees buckle, and she drops. Her expression doesn’t change as blood from her neck pours down her chest, staining her white robes. It doesn’t change when her severed head topples from her neck. The witch now feels only relief. Tired, blessed relief. Her body falls forward into the snow next to her sword.
55
Aina
The head of thebeautiful snow witch falls from her shoulders. Siiri stands over her, Väinämöinen’s sword in hand, looking down at her body. The few remaining wolves howl as they tuck their tails and run back to the safety of the forest. As the witch’s body falls forward, Siiri lowers her sword.
With a desperate sigh of relief, I drop my bow and run. “Siiri! Are you all right?”
Slowly, Siiri turns. Her eyes still glow with the light of Väinämöinen’s spirit.
I take a hesitant step back. “Siiri, your eyes...”
She blinks, taking a few deep breaths. The light fades until her blue eyes meet my green ones.
“What happened?” I whisper, glancing to the shaman in the snow. “Is hegone?”
Siiri shakes her head. “No, it’s not... Ahh—” She grips my arm for support, her head tipping back as her body tenses. “Oh gods—he’s here with me,” she pants. “He’s inside. It feels so strange. I suddenly feel as if I’ve lived two lives. Everything that was me—my life, my stories—and everything that was him. They’re both mine now. I feel his memories like I made them.”
“Oh gods... the battle with Iku-Turso? Ilmarinen and the forging of the Sampo? Antero Vipunen?”
