Page 97 of North Is the Night
I gasp, taking in his bearded face, the lines creasing the corners of his eyes, already so well known to me.
“Good to see you again,” he calls. “You look like death, old man.”
“You’ve kept me waiting so long,” Väinämöinen replies. “Come.” He holds out a trembling hand. “Come to me now.”
The other Väinämöinen walks on swift feet, glancing from the shaman to me. Holding my gaze, he smiles. “Hello again, Siiri.”
“If you’re Väinämöinen,” I say to the shaman to my right, “Then who is this?”
“I’m Väinämöinen,” the bear spirit replies.
I blink, trying to puzzle this together. It makes my head hurt. “I don’t understand.”
“We don’t often understand it ourselves,” Bear Väinämöinen says with a smile. “Soul magic is so old, it’s all but forgotten. We’ve never claimed to know how all of it works.”
“Hence, how we found ourselves in this little conundrum.” My Väinämöinen gestures between them.
“How shall we do this?” says Bear Väinämöinen. “It’s too late to recall me in the usual way.”
“I tried that for years, and you never returned,” Väin-ämöinen replies with a scowl.
“I couldn’t hear you, old friend.”
“I’ve been alone for so long. I had all but given up hope.”
“There is always hope,” Bear Väinämöinen replies. “We made sure of that. Whatever else comes our way, hope will remain.”
Väinämöinen offers a tattooed hand. “No more waiting. Take my hand. We will be one again.”
Bear Väinämöinen nods, stepping forward. The moment they touch, the same blue-white light bursts from their joined hands. I’m rocked off my feet again, landing in the snow several feet back. I squint into the blinding light as the two Väinämöinens become one.
As soon as it begins, it’s over. I wince, blinking in the dark and shading my eyes from the afterimage, to find only one Väinämöinen standing before me. He takes deep breaths, his eyes still glowing as he pats his arms, his chest. He flexes the strong, tattooed fingers of his hands.
I scramble back onto my feet. “Väinämöinen?” I venture.
An incandescent smile lights his face. He’s looking at me with new eyes. Gone are his suspicion and resentment. Gone are his anger and frustration. The haunted look I’ve seen him wear so often is replaced with something softer. Now, I see love. It overflows from him.Protection. Contentment. Pride.
“Siiri.” He says my name like a song. Stepping forward, he wraps me in a tight embrace, laughing and crying. I don’t understand, but I let him hold me until he’s ready to break away.
I take in the set of his shoulders, the faint glowing light in his eyes. “Are you—you’re you again? You’re whole?”
He nods, still smiling. “I am whole, thank Ilmatar.”
A grunt behind him has us both turning. Across the snow, the bear is stirring.
“Kal—”
“Siiri, no.” The shaman holds tight to my wrist. “You need to leave him now.”
“But he might still be hurt,” I protest.
“He’s fine. He is only a bear now. He’ll be scared and confused. We have to let him go.”
Kal takes deep, panting breaths, taking in his surroundings. He looks at us. The light in his eyes is gone. He’s just a bear.
Reaching for the knife at his belt, Väinämöinen cuts his palm, squeezing a few drops of his blood onto the snow. “Otso, brother of the forest, I thank you for your shared fellowship these long months. I return your servant to you. Go in peace, friend.”
I hold out my hand, and he drags the blade across my palm too. I wince, squeezing a few drops of my own blood to the snow. “Thank you for seeing me safely to Väinämöinen.”
