Page 85 of North Is the Night
“Queen?” I whisper.
“Our kiss sealed your fate,” he replies, brushing his lips to the back of my head. “My power is in you now. The dead are yours to command.”
I go still, unable to stop the fear from creeping in. “It’s not possible.”
“Give them an order,” he says, his voice low in my ear. “Prove your power.”
Heart in my throat, I watch as the dead approach. More are coming through the dark. Leaning against Tuoni’s firm shoulder, I call out in a trembling voice. “Please... don’t come any closer.”
As one, the dead stop at my command.
Tuoni laughs, his exuberance barreling towards me through the bond. He leans down, brushing his lips against my temple. “Come, wife. This is a new beginning. Let me show you all that Tuonela can be.”
I flinch as he lets out a shrill whistle, his arm dropping away from me. An unearthly howl echoes through the trees to my left. Tuoni takes my hand, leading me forward through the snow. The sound of pounding hooves has me turning. I watch in awe as a mighty horse comes bursting through the trees. His eyes glow red as coals. Deep inside the belly of the beast are the flames of an iron furnace. His metal sides creak as he pants, tossing his head.
I clutch Tuoni as he leads me forward. He speaks to the horse in a language I don’t understand. The horse snorts, his breath a billowing cloud of steam. He turns his coal-red eyes on me. “What is it?” I whisper, holding Tuoni’s hand in both of my own like a scared child.
“Hiiden hevonen,” he replies, giving the horse’s head another pat. “A gift from the goblins, and my old friend. He’s born of the mountain, forged in her unquenchable fires.”
“He’s fearsome,” I admit. Tuoni leads me closer, his hands lowering to my hips, and I know instantly his intention. “Oh, my lord, you cannot mean for me to ride him.”
He laughs. “What better way to make an entrance?”
“An entrance where? My lord, where are we going?”
“A queen needs a throne, does she not? A witch now blights yours. But fear not, my love. You will root her out.”
“Me? Tuoni, I can’t—ah—”
The death god takes me by the hips and lifts me, placing me on the back of the great iron horse. The beast tosses his head, and I tangle my fingers in his coarse black mane.
Tuoni climbs atop the horse behind me, his arms wrapping around me to reach for the thick leather reins. The strength of his will echoes down the bond. “Tuonetar’s reign of chaos is at an end. Tuonela has a new queen.”
28
Siiri
Day turns to night,and Väinämöinen and I don’t leave the hut. We sit around the fire, and I tell the greatest shaman of the ages my stories of Aina—foraging adventures in the woods, quiet nights laughing by the fire, dancing under a full moon and begging the goddess to turn us into stars. I talk until my stomach growls with hunger.
Helping myself to his stores of food, I begin preparing us an evening meal. I chop carrots and onions and a chunk of dried caribou meat for soup, thickening it with reindeer milk and seasoning it with salt and dill. Using his barley flour, I make small, unleavened rieska loaves, leaving them to cook on the hot stones of the hearth.
All the while, Väinämöinen sits with his arms crossed. The air is thick with the cloying scent of his pipe smoke. “Your Aina sounds like a rare beauty,” he muses, accepting a wooden bowl of steaming soup with both hands.
My cheeks warm at the memory of her laugh—
her head tipped back, the arch of her neck, the music of her joy. “She’s undeniable,” I say, unable to think of a better word.
I pull my hands away and ladle a second portion of soup for myself. “She’s the best person I know. She is kind where I am callous. She’s caring where I’m selfish. She puts everyone else first, even to her own detriment. It’s maddening.”
“You love her,” he says with a chuckle, accepting the rieska loaf I offer him. “First loves always cut the deepest, leaving the greatest scars.”
“Of course I love her. She’s my dearest friend. She’s closer to me than my own sister. It’s like...” I pause, struggling to find the words. “It’s like she holds a piece of my very soul.”
Across the fire, the shaman goes still.
“She was taken from me, and in that moment, something inside me snapped—somethinghere.” I press my hand over my gut, just beneath my ribs. As I push on the ache, a log on the fire snaps, sending up a spray of hissing sparks.
The shaman watches me with haunted eyes.
