24

Siiri

“Gods, you weigh a ton,” a deep voice grunts.

All around, I hear the excited yips of dogs. There’s sloshing and splashing as someone drags me out of the lake. I’m weighed down by my wet furs like a dead fish. Is this death? Have I washed up on Tuoni’s shores?

“Cough it up,” the voice says. “That’s a good lad. Come on, cough it up or die.”

My rescuer turns me on my side and pounds my back with a large fist that rattles my ribcage. Retching mightily, I empty my stomach of a lake’s worth of freezing water. I’m surprised a whole pike doesn’t flop out onto the ice.

Not dead yet. I’m very much still alive... and wet... and freezing.

“There we go,” says the deep voice. “Get it all out.”

The feeling of emptiness washes over me. I’m numb—never a good sign. My entire body trembles with the shock of almost drowning in the icy depths of a deep lake. How did I get here?

I shut my eyes tight. I was running through the snow across a frozen lake. I called upon the mist maiden to hide us from view. Lumi—the wolves—the ice breaking beneath my feet...

“Kal,” I rasp with my damaged throat. I roll onto my face, trying to sit up.

“Take your time,” the deep voice says. “That bear nearly got you. Fate intervened in its own way. Nearly killed by a bear, nearly killed by the ice. Death has your name, lad.”

I look up sharply at him, a scowl on my face.

“You’re a girl,” the man says with a surprised laugh, his voice deep, muffled behind a thick cowl.

“Y-yes,” I say through chattering teeth. “I-I am.”

The man is wrapped from head to toe in thick furs. All I can see are his deeply weathered cheeks, well-lined from years of toil in this harsh landscape. His eyes are bright blue, sharp and penetrating. Behind him, up in the night sky, the lights of the foxfires still dance.

“You need to get out of those wet clothes, or you’ll freeze to death.” He picks me up with ease, setting me on the back of his sled. Then he wraps me in a fur. It smells like smoke and pipe tobacco. All around us, his dogs bark excitedly, waiting for him to take his place on the runners of the sled. They dance in place, the sled already shifting forward.

His feet touch the rails, and the dogs burst into action, racing across the snow. I blink against the bitter cold, trying to control the shaking of my limbs. The curled tops of pine trees flash by, weighed down by the snow, illuminated by the foxfires overhead.

Before long, the sled slows to a stop. The man picks me up, furs and all, and pushes his way through the door of a large, blissfully warm hut. It’s cozy, with the thick scent of pine logs. He sets me down on a bed of soft reindeer furs by the fire.

“Take those clothes off, girl. You can wrap up in this for now.” He tosses a heavy pelt next to me. “Better naked than dead,” he adds with a grunt. “I’ll go tend to the dogs.” With a snap of the door, he’s gone.

I strip off my sodden mittens first, placing them on the warm stones by the fire. They instantly begin to steam. With frozen, fumbling fingers, I shed myself of all my layers. In minutes, they all lay in a pile by the fire. My hands shake as I wrap the bear pelt around my weak frame and edge closer to the flickering flames, moaning with relief as the heat gradually thaws out my frozen body.

As soon as the fire restores enough of my wits, I peer about the hut. It’s large, more than twice the size of Lumi’s. In the center is a ring of stones forming the hearth. To my left, a thick pile of furs serves as a bed. To my right, a rickety set of low shelves contains an assortment of cups, bowls, and utensils. A pair of antlers hanging by the door have been repurposed as hooks to hold snares, rope, and a fishing net. Everything is simple, rough-hewn wood and natural stone. Everything except the drum in the corner—and the kantele by the bed.

My breath freezes in my throat as my eyes lock on the kantele. Before I can crawl over to inspect it, the door rattles open. The man closes it with a thud and secures it with a crossbeam to protect against harsh winter winds.

“Still alive then?” he calls to me, dumping an armful of kindling by the fire.

“Yes,” I reply, taking in his features in this brighter light.

The man is tall, taller even than my father. Taller than Onni. He unwraps the cowl from his face. He has a long, flowing white beard. And yet, time hasn’t bent his back or weakened his shoulders. He still has the body of a strong man, one who doesn’t merely survive in the wilderness but thrives in it. He pulls off his hat, uncovering a snarled mess of long white hair that matches his beard. Then he slips off his large mittens. His hands are as weathered as his face... and covered in rune tattoos like the ones on Kalma’s hands.

I suck in a breath, my initial fearful reaction giving way to determination. The tattoos must mean something important. Regardless, I know who he is. “V?in?moinen,” I whisper.

He stiffens.

“You are V?in?moinen,” I repeat, more loudly.

He faces me across the fire, holding a knife in his hand. “Did you come all this way to try to kill me, girl?”

“What? No,” I cry, sitting up. “Do many people travel this far north intent on killing you?”

He shrugs, dropping to his knees on the other side of the fire. “Some, not many. Not anymore.” He prods at the fire with a stick, making it hiss. “Most people think I died, lost to the stories and songs. Sometimes I doubt it myself,” he adds with a soft chuckle.

“You doubt that you live?”

“Life is nothing but a long dying,” he replies. “I get the feeling you are well familiar with the sensation of dying to live.”

I nod, swallowing against the pain in my throat.

His blue eyes watch me, gleaming in the firelight. He huffs, his white mustache twitching. “If you’re unfortunate enough to reach my age, you’ll find yourself living to die. At this point, I would welcome death. I’m ready for a good long sleep.”

“Oh, great V?in?moinen, oldest and wisest of shamans, you can’t die,” I say, gazing up at him. “Please, I need your help. I come to you in my darkest hour, seeking your guidance—”

“Don’t even think about it.” He raises a large hand in protest.

I blink. “What? But I need your help—”

“What you need is food, girl. You need sleep. And from the looks of that nasty cut on your throat, you need a poultice and a healing song. I can smell the infection from here,” he adds, crinkling his nose.

“I don’t have time for food and sleep.” I clutch the bear pelt tighter as I lean forward, the fire warming my face. “My dearest friend was taken from me, and I need you to help me get her back—”

“Are you the greatest shaman of the ages?” he bellows. The fire’s crackling quiets. Even the beams of the hut seem to quake with fear.

“No.”

“No, you are not the shaman. You’re a half-dead girl who, at this moment, is more mackerel than mortal. You can’t help anyone in your condition. At this point, I doubt you could even stand on your own two legs.”

They warned me he wouldn’t help, but I’m not ready to give up. Indignation surges through me. Ignoring the screaming pain throughout my body, I meet the shaman glare for glare. I rise shakily to my feet, ignoring that I’m naked and half-frozen beneath the heavy bear pelt. “I’m tougher than I look,” I declare, chin raised in defiance.

Across the fire, the shaman smirks, the end of his white mustache twitching again. “Five... four... three...”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Why are you counting?”

“Two... one...”

My shaking legs give out, and I flop down onto the soft bed of pelts with a gasp.

“See? You’re so weak, you’ve got fins for feet.”

My cheeks burn. I’m embarrassed to let him see me so helpless. But he’s right. In this state, I’m no better than a fish out of water.

“Food and rest,” he says again, more gently this time. “That’s what I will offer you, for that is what you need. And once you’ve had food and rest, you will return south. There is nothing for you here. I am not the shaman you seek.”

“But you are V?in?moinen.”

“I was V?in?moinen,” he corrects. “Now I’m just a tired old man with too many yesterdays and an endless sea of empty tomorrows.”

Cowed into silence, I watch as the shaman prepares a small cookpot. He tosses a few ingredients into it, including something that looks like meat, from inside his vest pocket. He pours water into the pot and hangs it on the hook over the fire. Soon, the smell of soup fills the hut, making my stomach groan. As he stirs the soup, a lone wolf howls in the distance.

We both go still, our eyes meeting over the flames.

“I fear I must tell you something,” I say.

He says nothing, waiting for me to speak.

Fatigue pulls at me as I sit up. “A witch named Lumi followed me north. The wolf is likely hers. I couldn’t lose them in the snow. I’m sorry, V?in?moinen. The bear and I, we led her right to you. I think she means to kill you—”

“I’m well aware of what that silly witch wants,” he replies, stirring the soup again. “I’m more curious to hear about this bear. He was trying to drown you.”

“He was trying to save me,” I correct. “He broke the ice with his paws to give me an escape, but the ice cracked and pulled me under too. Please, can you tell me if he survived? Did he make it off the ice?”

“That I don’t know. The fog was quite thick.”

I sigh, resting my chin on my knees. “I suppose that too is my fault.”

He glances curiously over at me. “You control the fog then?”

“No, but I called on the help of Ututytto. The mist maiden hid us from Lumi and the wolves.”

He smirks. “You called on a goddess, and she answered you?”

I nod.

Those blue eyes narrow again. “How did you call her?”

I slip my hand out between the edges of the bear pelt, flashing him the stark red line cutting across my palm.

He grunts, dropping his gaze back to his cookpot. “Blood magic is not for the faint of heart, girl. Who are you, that you can wield it with such ease? And why would a bear risk his life for you?”

“I don’t know.”

He looks across the fire at me again. “You’re not a witch?”

I shake my head.

“A v?ki then? A long-lost daughter of a lesser god?”

“No, I’m just plain Siiri. I journeyed north from Lake P?ij?nne in search of you. The bear and I crossed paths when I found him in a pit, where Lumi had trapped him. I set him free and continued north. I met a goddess in a sacred grove, and she told me to follow the bear, that he would lead me to you. When my need was greatest, he returned to me. He saved my life. We fought off Lumi and the wolves, and now I’m here,” I finish, gesturing around us. “The bear kept his word and led me to you. Now I must keep my word and beg for your help. I will not leave until you agree.”

V?in?moinen hums, ladling soup into a wooden bowl. “Well, it sounds like you’ve had quite the adventure.” He reaches around the flames, holding the bowl out to me.

I make no move to take it. “You don’t believe me. And you have no intention of helping me.”

“Oh, I believe you.” He places the bowl on the warm stones and ladles a second bowl for himself. Then he settles cross-legged before the fire. “Who am I to doubt the word of a mortal girl who claims to see goddesses and thinks a magic bear is her guide on a quest to track down a dead shaman?”

“You’re not dead yet, old man,” I mutter.

“As to my helping you, I’m already doing far more than I ought,” he goes on, sipping his soup with loud slurps. “You’ve put me in a precarious position. To pull you from that ice, I had to lower my wards—which is no easy feat, I assure you. The magic that has kept me safe is now shattered.”

“I’m sorry, V?in?moinen. I didn’t want her to track me, I swear it.”

“It’s not your fault. Lumi knows me too well. You’re wrong to think she followed you north. She drove you here.”

I swallow my sip of hot broth. “What do you mean?”

“She forced you into my path, knowing my damned curious nature would lure me out.” He lets out a dry laugh. “I may possess all the wisdom of the ages, but I still walked right into her trap like a day-old fawn.”

My heart races as another wolf howls in the distance. “Can’t you just fix the wards?”

“You think a magic as deep as my wards can be rewoven overnight?” He snorts. “You think I can snap my fingers and charm the v?ki of the earth, the trees, and the very air to carry my spells of concealment? Those wardings took me months to weave. It takes patience, and no small amount of skill. It also takes a forest disposed to bend to my will—easier to do in summer when the trees are warmed by the sun, eager to sing with me.”

“But... you are V?in?moinen,” I say helplessly.

“True enough.” He heaves a sigh. “But I am not the shaman I once was, and time is not on my side. Lumi will come for me. Even now, she gathers herself. She makes ready for the fight she feels she must win.”

“You could run,” I say, abandoning my soup. “Like a firefox, you could flee her pursuit. I’ll help you—”

“I thought I was the one meant to be helping you ,” he shouts. “I pulled you from that ice, and now I’m feeding you. I’ll give you shelter for the night. I may even grant you some provisions to last you a journey south again. But as to any other favors you may be about to ask me, my answer is and must be no—”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask,” I cry, pushing up to sit on my knees.

“It doesn’t matter what you ask, for I cannot do it.” He rises to his feet. “Whatever feat of daring you expect from me, you must look elsewhere. The time of V?in?moinen is gone. I am all that is left of him, and I promise you, I won’t be enough.”

“Fine.” I reach for my bowl, holding it one-handed. “Then you must teach me.”

He raises a white brow, his mustache twitching. “Teach you what?”

“My dearest friend was taken by Kalma and brought to Tuonela. I came here because you are the only shaman to ever enter into death and return alive. Teach me how to cross over. Teach me how to get to Tuonela.”

V?in?moinen stares down at me, his expression unveiling his rage and pain, his terrible, aching loss. “You want a lesson from the great V?in?moinen on how to get to Tuonela?” He jerks a large hunting knife free from his thick leather belt and drops it on the pelts beside me. “There,” he says, pointing at the blade. “Take that and stab it through your heart. When the ferrywoman asks you how you came to stand at Tuoni’s shores, tell her you died a fool’s death. For you are a fool to attempt to thwart the Witch Queen.” With that, he marches over to the door.

“So you won’t help me? You’ll just leave my friend to die in that place?”

“I am helping you!” He shoves his fur hat down on his head. “Food and water and rest. You leave in the morning, before you call any more calamity down on my head.”

“But my friend—”

“Mark me, Siiri. If your friend is in Tuonela, then she’s already worse than dead.”

“V?in?moinen, please—”

The shaman stomps out into the cold winter night, slamming the door behind him.