Page 96 of North Is the Night
“Take up my axe,” he adds without turning around. “If anything comes out of this bear, kill it. Do you understand? If anything pulls me into the bear, run. Back to the hut, and bar the door.”
Dropping to one knee, I pick up the shaman’s axe, my cold fingers wrapping around the worn wooden shaft. “I’m ready.”
The shaman places his hands directly on the worst of the bear’s wounds and begins to sway from his shoulders. A low hum emanates from deep in his chest. The sound builds, flowing out of him like water from a spring. As Väinämöinen’s hands move, the song changes. Words chime out, ringing with magic, their power filling the air.
The fine hairs on my arms prickle under my coat. My breath catches in my chest as I inch around the shaman’s back, stepping closer to Kal’s head. A blue-white light glows in the shaman’s eyes. He’s lost in the trance of his song as his hands move in their dance.
In moments, his palms, too, begin to glow, as he pushes his healing magic out through his hands into the bear. The light curls in wisps and smoky tendrils, seeking entry into Kal through his many wounds. A tear slips down my cheek as the muscles and sinew stitch themselves back together with threads of blue-white light.
Väinämöinen’s song grows louder. The dogs in the barn fall silent. Nothing moves. Even the snow seems to wait as the shaman’s haunting music fills the air. At the first sign of the bear stirring, the song stops. Kal lifts his head with a soft grunt. Then he blinks his eyes open, eyes that glow with the same light reflected in Väinämöinen. “Oh...” the shaman says. The light fades from his eyes with a blink, and his crystalline blue gaze is now cloudy with tears. “All this time, you were with her?”
“Is Kal all right?” I whisper, looking from the shaman to the bear.
Väinämöinen leans forward, brushing the soft fur of the bear’s cheek with a shaking hand. “Old friend... it took you long enough to find me again.”
“You know who’s inside?”
“Oh yes, I know him as well as I know myself.”
“Who is it?”
Väinämöinen lets out a barking laugh. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
I huff, offering him his axe. “I’m weary with wondering. Please, just tell me.”
He gets to his feet with a tired groan, taking the axe. “Oh, we can do much better than that. I willshowyou.”
My heart skips with relief as Kal stands up too, weak and heavily scarred, but alive. “You can extract the soul with Kal still alive?”
“It’s easy now that I know he wants to come out. Youdowant to come, right?” he adds at the bear. Kal heaves an irritated grunt. Väinämöinen chuckles, tucking his axe into his belt. “Right, then. Siiri, would you like to meet the crafty scoundrel who led you north on an impossible quest to find the greatest hero of the ages?”
“Just work your magic, old man,” I say excitedly.
“Do you see what I’ve had to put up with?” he says to the bear, jabbing a thumb my direction. “How you didn’t leave her beneath the ice, I’ll never know.”
I smile despite myself at Kal’s indignant growl. “He seems to like me more than you do.”
“He’s always had terrible taste in women,” the shaman replies. Turning his back to me, he faces the bear directly. “Up you get then. You’ve been trapped in there for long enough.”
I take a step back as Kal pushes off the ground with his massive front paws. He brings himself to his full height, towering over me and the shaman.
“This shouldn’t hurt him,” Väinämöinen says. “Either of them. But it may be a bit unpleasant to watch.”
“What are you going to—argh—” I cry out, falling on my backside into the snow. One arm covers my eyes as white light blasts from Väinämöinen’s glowing hands and slams into the bear’s massive chest. Kal is tossed backwards, landing in a heap in the snow.
“What did you do? If you hurt him—”
“Wait,” the shaman rasps. He looks like he’s aged a hundred more years. The magic clearly took its toll on him. If Lumi came out of the woods now, she could knock him down as easily as plucking a tulip by the root.
I offer him my arm for support. “Are you well? Can I fetch you some water or—”
“Justwait. Watch. He’s coming out now.”
Holding the tired shaman up with both hands, I turn to look. The bear stirs, but Kal doesn’t rise. Something risesfromhim—a man, dressed head to toe in trapper’s furs. He appears solid in form, and yet he stands inside the bear. The trapper lifts his hands, inspecting them in the moonlight, as if surprised to see that they’re truly his.
Väinämöinen’s hand on my arm tightens as he chokes back a sob. “Come on out, you old fool.”
Slowly, the trapper steps fully out of the bear.
