32

Siiri

V?in?moinen sits across from me at the table, his drum balanced on his knee. The runes dotting the hide are almost identical to the faded markings on the shaman’s hands. “Make us some tea.”

“Tell me about your curse,” I counter without moving. “What do you mean you can’t die? What did Tuonetar do to you?”

He sighs, setting the drum on the table with a soft rattle. “It was my punishment for thwarting her, for stealing from her. She called on her coven of forest witches to curse me. Ajatar led the coven, Lumi’s mother.”

I gasp. “Ajatar is Lumi’s mother?” I know the name of this witch well. Mothers teach their children to fear her. For a moment in the sacred grove, I thought Tellervo might be Ajatar, the forest witch who hunts the hunters. She curses lonely foragers with her nightmares. She climbs onto your chest while you sleep, stealing your air and breaking your bones.

V?in?moinen takes in my look of horror and scoffs. “I take it you know Ajatar?”

Slowly, I nod.

“A nastier witch has never drawn breath on this side of the veil,” he mutters. “She was all too eager to help Tuonetar curse me. I think she only agreed because she expects Lumi to be the one to fulfill the curse and claim my magic. And poor Lumi thinks claiming it will fix what’s broken inside her,” he adds. “She thinks my magic can make her worthy in her wretched mother’s eyes. She has no idea what this will cost her. To possess the knowledge I do... to hold it in my head and my heart... it’s not a gift, Siiri. It’s an awesome and terrible burden.”

I hold his gaze. “A burden it may be, but it is your duty to give your wisdom to the people, and you left.”

He goes still, his blue eyes searching my face. “Siiri—”

“You left your people when we needed you most,” I shout over him, my frustration rising. “You’ve spent all these years hiding in this godsforsaken wilderness while your people suffered. We’re suffering , V?in?moinen.”

“That’s not my fault—”

“When you left, the stories stopped,” I say over him. “No new wisdom. No songs. Your leaving was like the first fall of snow. The other gods grew silent too... then they grew distant. We were left freezing in the winter of your indifference. Then foreigners swept up from the south with stories and songs of a new god, bloodthirsty and vengeful. They’re taking everything from us. And we’ve been too broken to notice, too alone and scared to fight back.”

His face looks haunted. “Siiri, please—”

“You left us to save yourself. You say a shaman can’t use knowledge for selfish acts, but that’s exactly what you did. Your wisdom is meant to be shared, but you used it to hide yourself away up here—”

“I had no choice!”

I rise to my feet. “There is always a choice! Look at me,” I cry, raising my arms out to the side. “Look at Aina. Look at how we’ve fought for each other, how we’re ready to die for each other before ever giving up. Finding you was never just about saving her. I meant to bring you south with us. I meant to bring you home . You belong with your people, V?in?moinen, as Aina belongs with me. Your magic belongs to the people. It is not yours to hide away. It never was.”

A tear slips down his weathered cheek as he gazes up at me. “Help me, Siiri. Save me from myself.”

After a long moment, I nod. Sinking to my knees, I face him across the table. “I will help you. Gods as my witness, V?in?moinen, I will fight for you. If it comes to it, I will die for you. You are my shaman, the son of the blessed All-Mother.”

He reaches a rune-marked hand across the table, and I take it, holding it tight.

“You need never be alone again,” I assure him. “I am here now, and I will never leave you again. I didn’t leave you as the bear, and I will not leave you as the man. All I ask is that you fight for me as I fight for you.”

Slowly, he nods.

“Help me rescue Aina, and then I’m bringing you both home where you belong.”

We sit in silence, the crackling of the fire the only sound between us.

After a few moments, he smiles, that blue twinkle returning to his watery eyes. “Tell me, Siiri, what do you know about soul magic?”

Once we’re settled at the table with cups of yarrow root tea and a fresh loaf of rieska, V?in?moinen reaches for his pipe again. After he lights it, he picks up the drum with both hands, his pipe clenched between his teeth. “To cross over into Tuonela as a shaman, you need to understand the power of soul magic.”

I gaze at him warily. “Isn’t that how a piece of you got trapped in the bear?”

He huffs. “Well, that was a bit of soul magic gone awry, but yes. The kantele is used to work with v?ki—useful in spellcasting, necromancy, healing, and the like. The drum is the key to crossing the realms. Do you understand? Without the drumming, you can’t release the pieces of your soul to go awandering.”

I nod as if this makes sense to me.

He gives me a wry look before continuing, puffing on his pipe as he talks. “Each rune on this drum signifies something important to the drummer. You can learn much about a shaman and their power from the drum they play.” He points to the central rune, a double-lined rhombus. “This is the sun. It marks the center of our world. Most shamans will play a simple drum designed for use in this realm only. The runes will flow naturally outward from the sun.”

“What kind of runes?” I say, my eyes fixed on the drum.

“All kinds,” he replies. “Reindeer, cattle, fish. There are runes for hunting and gathering, runes for weather and the seasons, the gods, love and death.” His hand dances around the surface of his drum as he points to the different runes. Then he glances up. “You mentioned feeling like a piece of your soul was with Aina. You said you feel its loss?”

I scrunch my brow. “I... it felt like I was being torn apart, yes.” I rub at my chest with a grimace. “It felt like being stabbed... or like I was being stretched. It was... unpleasant.”

“And you feel it still?”

“No,” I say aloud for the first time. “No, it faded. I don’t—I can’t feel her anymore.” I’m quiet for a moment, letting myself sit with her loss. “Did she take a piece of my soul? Is it gone forever? Is it in Tuonela? Is that why I can’t feel it?”

He raises a hand. “Peace, girl. Let me explain. Unless you’re the most powerful and the most careless shaman of a generation, I doubt very much you managed to place a piece of your soul into Aina without knowing it. But the sensations you describe are not dissimilar from the pain inflicted by a soul-rending.”

“How many pieces of soul are there?”

“Three,” he replies, setting the drum aside. “The very life of you is called your henki. When your henki leaves your body, you die.”

“I know this word,” I say, leaning forward. “Aina’s father is a woodworker. He makes sielulintu. He says the soul birds guide your henki to Tuonela when you die.”

V?in?moinen nods. “He’s right. Now, your second piece of soul is called the luonto. All luonto take the form of birds, much like a sielulintu. The luonto is your guardian.”

“What form does yours take?”

Holding out his right hand, he traces his left thumb over the largest tattoo. “I’m a white-tailed eagle.”

I smile, thinking of the stories Mummi tells of V?in?moinen and the Eagle. “How do I decide what form my luonto should take?”

He chuckles, puffing on the stem of his pipe. “You don’t decide anything. Your luonto was born inside you. It already has a form. All you must do is let it take flight.”

I press a hand to my chest, imagining I can feel the fluttering of wings deep inside me.

The shaman watches me with a smile. “Yes, your luonto is strong, Siiri. Sometimes I can almost see it looking out through your eyes.”

My smile widens.

He goes on, “Now, when your luonto travels, it will always be in the form of a bird. This limits the interactions you can have. Do you understand? If you’re an owl or an eagle, you can’t talk to people or be understood. But you can see, you can hear, you can learn . You can gather intimate and secret knowledge. And knowledge is—”

“Power,” I finish for him. “Yes, I understand.”

He eyes me for a moment, his mustache twitching. “The last piece of your soul is called your itse. It’s your essence, your mirrored self. It can leave your body and travel for you. What’s more, it will be you. So, you can walk and talk, think and feel. Others can see you and communicate with you.”

It all falls into place. “He was your itse. The V?in?moinen trapped inside Kal. That was your itse, wasn’t it?”

He smirks. “Now you see.”

“You said he was gone a long time. What happened?”

He sighs, setting aside his spent pipe. “You have to understand that the soul does not want to be split apart. Sending out a smaller piece like your luonto is harmless enough. But using your itse can be dangerous, Siiri. The more often you send it out, the longer it stays out, the harder it gets to come back to yourself. Once an itse is lost, it becomes all but impossible to retrieve.”

My heart flickers. “Oh, V?in?moinen...” Reaching forward, I take his hand in mine. “The lost shaman,” I whisper. “You’ve been lost in more ways than one, haven’t you? Lost to the world, hiding up here all alone. Lost to yourself, your itse wandering the woods without you, unable to return. What happened? When did you let it go?”

“I was careless and overconfident. I thought I could survive this life of isolation with ease. How could I not when the world could still be mine? If I was careful, in my itse I could walk the forests and fields where I had my greatest adventures. I was selfish, Siiri... and I paid the price.”

“How do you live with only two pieces of your soul intact?”

“You don’t.” His words settle between us like a thick mantle. “It will kill you in the end... and it will be slow and painful. The ‘long dying,’ they call it. I once met a man afflicted with a loss of itse.” His face takes on that haunted look I’ve come to know so well. “I don’t wish it on anyone, Siiri.”

I search his face. “How long did you live without yours?”

“Too long.”

“But Tuonetar’s curse tied you to life... you couldn’t die.”

He nods again.

I give his hand a squeeze. “And now?”

“Now I’m whole,” he replies. “As whole as I’ll ever be. But Siiri, death has taken root in me. The withering of my other souls has eaten at me like a cancer. My luonto is weak, my henki even weaker. I cannot risk separating from my itse again, do you understand? Whether I want to or not, I cannot go with you to Tuonela. I cannot survive another rending.”

“I understand,” I say. “So, it is my itse we will send to retrieve Aina?”

“Yes.”

I brush my thumb over the marks on the back of his hand. “What do the tattoos mean? Kalma has them too. And the goddess in the woods, the one who gave me supplies and told me to follow the bear.”

He glances at his hands, flexing his fingers. “They’re meant to be a safeguard against losing your itse. You mark your hands with the same patterns that are on your drum. They are a tether as you wander between the realms, guiding the pieces of your soul back to where your body waits.”

I look down at our hands. Mine are pale and unblemished. “So, if I am to cross over into Tuonela, I must anchor the pieces of my soul?” My heart sinks a little in my chest. “I must wear the marks of Kalma?”

“Do not think of them as Kalma’s marks,” he says gently. “Think of them as the marks of a shaman. That’s all the tattoos are meant to indicate: a shaman or deity capable of soul-rending and crossing the realms. Some gods don’t even bother with such tethering. They believe their souls are powerful enough not to get lost.”

I gasp, squeezing his hand. “That’s why I couldn’t kill her.”

“What?”

“I stabbed Kalma in the heart, and it did nothing. In her itse form, I may as well have been stabbing at the rain to kill a storm.”

He nods. “Yes, you cannot kill someone in their itse form. But you can untether their itse. An untethered itse may struggle to return to its body, which can lead to the long dying.”

“How do you untether it?”

He frowns. “You’re clever, Siiri. Be clever.”

I furrow my brow as I piece it together. “Oh gods...” I whisper, meeting his gaze. “Sever the itse’s hands. Break the bond between the shaman and their drum.”

He gives me a solemn nod. “So, do you understand the risk? When you let your itse roam free, you must do all you can to protect your hands. If you become untethered, it’s possible you may never return to your body again. And you mustn’t separate the pieces of your soul for long. A soul too long out of its body will lose itself.”

“Lumi was using your itse to find your body, wasn’t she? She wanted to make you whole again.” I sit back on my heels, cursing under my breath. “She was never going to kill him so long as your itse was trapped inside. She wants you whole so she can kill you herself and take your magic.”

“Now you understand.”

“I’m sorry I helped her. I gave her a path to follow that led her straight to you. This is my fault—”

“No,” he says, voice firm. “Lumi has been on this path for too long to stray from it now. If she hadn’t used you, she would have found another way.”

“Then she has to die,” I say grimly. “I’ll not let her harm you, V?in?moinen. And I’ll certainly not let her take your magic.”

He smiles, his mustache twitching.

I raise a brow at him. “What? Why do you smile?”

“I am once again struck by the curiosity of life. The threads of fate weave an interesting tapestry.”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought my story was coming to an end,” he replies. “But then a fierce girl leaned over the edge of a pit, calling down to me.”

“You remember that? Or do you speak of Kal’s memories?”

“They are one and the same, for he is me. As soon as we rejoined, I reclaimed myself.”

I can’t help but laugh. “All those days, I searched and searched for you, but you were by my side all along.” I hold his gaze, my mood sobering. “You saved me then, V?in?moinen. In helping me rescue Aina, you’ll save me again. How can I ever repay you for what you’ve done, for what you will do?”

He grunts dismissively, but there is mist in his eyes. “When it comes to saving maidens, it seems I can’t help trying to play the hero.” He picks up his drum, smoothing a weathered hand over the surface of the runes. “You call me a great shaman, but the title is undeserved. In the end, I couldn’t save any of the people I loved. I’ve failed so many times, Siiri. Sometimes it feels that all I do is fail.”

“You will not fail this time,” I say, praying my determination is enough to sustain us both.

He hands the drum over to me. “Let’s hope you’re right. Regardless, all the pieces of my soul seem to agree that we’ll save your Aina... or die trying.”