Page 80 of North Is the Night
“Aina,” he says with a deep, rasping voice.
I’m rooted to the spot. The raven couldn’t speak to me, but the god can.
Fire gives way to smoke and shadow as he changes before my eyes, burning away all remnants of his alder cage. I blink, taking in the face of a hunter. He’s not quite handsome... or is he? There’s an ageless quality to his features. He looks at once wise and ancient, virile and strong. His black hair is long, falling past his shoulders. It’s unkempt, dusted with soot that falls from the burning tree like snow. He’s clad in dark breeches and boots, a thick, black wool jerkin, a woven leather belt. He carries an axe at his hip, etched to match the knife at my hip. A wolf pelt rests on his shoulders over a long black cloak, making him appear even larger as he stands before me.
He looks... mortal. All except for those eyes. They contain such depth—ice and darkness, spirit and shadow. These are no mortal eyes. But this could all be a trick. Tuonetar likes to change appearance to lure her victims in. I suppose I expected Tuoni to match her in hideousness, or perhaps paint himself with blood and wear horns like Kalma.
In the angle of his cheeks and the arch of his nose, I see only the raven. I see my friend. “Tuoni...” Lifting my bleeding hand, I trace the cut on his cheek that has already healed. The only proof of our marriage is a faint white scar.
Taking my hand in both of his, he turns it over, exposing my cut. “My Aina,” he says, stroking a finger over the wound.
A chill colder than ice seeps through my skin, making me shiver. When I look down, the cut is healed. I, too, bear only a thin, white scar as proof of my marriage to the god of death.
“Now we are one,” he intones, his voice weaving through the very fabric of my soul, burrowing itself into the core of me. He raises my hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. “I wanted it to be you.” He meets my gaze, the intensity of those mismatched eyes holding me captive. “From this moment, there is only you.”
Part Three
Come with me, thou lovely virgin,
Be my bride and life-companion,
Share with me my joys and sorrows,
Be my honored wife hereafter.
—Rune 18.The Kalevala
26
Siiri
A noise stirs mefrom my sleep. I open one eye to find myself passed out on the floor of Väinämöinen’s hut. I nearly forget I’m naked under this heavy bear pelt when I sit up. It slips from my shoulders, but I catch it just in time.
Väinämöinen crouches by the fire across from me, stacking it with kindling and fresh wood.
“How long was I asleep?” I say, trying to suck on my tongue to bring a little moisture back to my mouth. It feels dry as bark.
“Two days.” He drops down to his hands, lowering his face to the fire. He puffs out his cheeks and blows, his mustache fluttering as he gives the fire new life.
So, he already bent his iron rules for me. He said he wanted me gone by morning. That was two days ago. I smile.Maybe there’s a chance...
I pull my warm, dry clothes under the pelt and shimmy into them. “I’ve lost two days,” I say, sitting up. “We need to get started.”
“Good idea. I packed for you. There’s enough food to see you south.” He points over his shoulder to where a leather pack waits by the door. “The weather should stay clear. You’ll likely have Revontulet’s light to guide your way.”
“I’m not leaving.” I tie back my mess of unevenly chopped hair. “We need to start my training.”
Väinämöinen pauses, eyeing me across the fire. “I thought I already told you,no.”
I groan as I get to my feet, testing my balance and my strength. “Look, old man, I’m not asking you to go to Tuonela. I’m asking you to show me how to get there. The risk I take will be all my own.”
“You have no idea what you risk.” Pushing off the ground, he moves away from the fire, leaning against the pinewood wall of the hut. “You say you met Kalma?”
“I fought her with my bare hands. She gave me this,” I add, pointing to the scar on my brow.
“How do you know it was Kalma?”
I cross my arms. “Shall I describe her to you?”
