Page 7 of North Is the Night
A low growl comes from behind us both, and I know what I’ll see if I turn around. That monstrous wolf will be there, those glowing red eyes watching me. With one hand on Aina, I adjust my stance so I can face both monsters at once.
“Stay back,” I shout, swiping the air with my little knife.
The horned woman steps closer, so close her shadow towers over us. She makes no sound when she moves. Not a single whisper or crunch over the fallen leaves. That rune-marked, skeletal hand extends towards me.
“I said stay back,” I cry, swinging wildly with my knife. The blade connects with the meat of the creature’s palm, and she pauses. Next to her, the wolf growls, flicking his serpent-like tail. A sickening smile spreads across the woman’s face, as if she’s surprised and delighted to see I would dare attack her. With a sweep of her arm, she launches me off my feet. Her hand doesn’t even touch me, and yet I’m breathless, my vision spinning as I fly through the air and slam against a tree. I crumple, body aching.
“Siiri,” Aina cries out, somewhere to my right. “Don’t hurt her,” she screams at the monster. “Take me.Please, take me instead!”
Never.
Darkness creeps in from the corners of my vision as I scramble to my knees. That creature is not taking Aina away from me. Warm blood oozes from my cut brow and down my cheek, dripping onto the fallen leaves. My breaths come short and fast as I paw at the ground, desperate to find my knife. I grasp a small rock. The fingers of my other hand wrap around the sharp metal of my knife blade. Stumbling to my feet, I throw the rock. It strikes the horned woman on the side of the head. She turns to face me, letting out an unearthly hiss.
“Aina, run,” I shout.
But Aina is rooted to the spot.
With a feral cry, I throw my knife. It spins through the air, handle over blade, landing hilt-deep in the chest of the horned woman. “Now, Aina,” I call. “Run!”
She shakes her head, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Not without you.”
The monster doesn’t even blink as the knife pierces her heart. Slowly, she raises her hand and jerks it free. With her haunting gaze locked on mine, she drops the knife to the ground at her feet. Still looking at me, she steps to the side and reaches out, her rune-marked fingers gripping Aina’s exposed forearm.
Aina’s scream rips through me, stealing the air from my lungs.
Torches bob around us in the night, flashes of golden yellow. Men run towards her screams. The monster gives me one last lopsided smile before disappearing in a swirl of black smoke, drawing Aina with her.
“Siiri—” Aina’s cry is cut short, lost to the shadows.
“Aina!”
As the smoke dissipates, the giant wolf lunges, crossing the clearing in one leap. It follows Aina and the creature into dark oblivion. I stumble forward, waving my hand through the wisps of shadow, but they’re gone.
I sink to my knees, heart thudding in my chest. My eyes are fixed on the point where Aina just disappeared. She could have run, but she wouldn’t leave me. Given the choice between her and me, she let the monster take her.
The black void that swallowed her whole fills me, growing, growing inside me. My heart pounds as the truth sinks into my chest, coiling around my very bones. Aina is gone. I couldn’t protect her. I failed her. She sacrificed herself to the monster to save me.
I collapse on the forest floor, the moss now a pillow for my aching head.It’s my fault Aina’s gone, so let me die here in these woods.I close my eyes, my cold hand pressed against the soil. “Take me,” I whisper to the ground. “Ilmatar, take me with her. I am nothing without her.”
The All-Mother answers my prayer as blessed darkness overtakes me.
3
Siiri
I’ve never thought muchabout dying. Death, certainly. It seems to me an exciting new adventure. It’s a long and perilous journey to the northern gates, the journey all souls must take. Through fen and forest, over meadow and marsh, through the ever-rising woodlands. Past brambles, then hazels, then on through the juniper wood. That’s the song the bards sing. That is the road to Tuonela.
I want to see it all. I want to take that journey and see what only the dead have seen.
I’m ready.
But first I have to get up. I have to begin my last walk.
A cool hand brushes against my brow with the comforting touch of a mother. I lean into it, desperate for the feel of one last embrace before I go.
“Get up,” whispers a soft voice.
No, this is all wrong. One must take the road to Tuonela alone. Death’s journey is my own. I cannot have another here with me.
