34

Siiri

“What is this?” I say, pointing to a freshly painted rune on the face of V?in?moinen’s drum.

“That’s you.” He winces as he folds his knees under himself by the fire.

The new rune looks like the figure of a person riding a bear. I smile, remembering our escape on the frozen lake. “Why did you add me to your drum?”

The shaman makes a frustrated sound. “Because if I’m forced to follow you, reckless fool girl, I need something to guide my way. I suggest you add me to yours as well.”

I look down at my new drum. V?in?moinen made it for me over the last two days. He watched, carefully instructing me, as I mixed wood ash and animal fat to make ink to paint the head. Then he walked me through the precise placement of each rune as I painted it.

A line across the middle of the drumhead separates the realm of the living from that of the dead. The center line is broken in the middle by the sun. “Will you add my rune to your hand?”

He grunts in assent. “The tethering must be completed. You’ll have to do the same.”

My skin prickles at the thought of the needle piercing my skin. As often as I am injured, I don’t enjoy pain. “Will we do it now?”

“No, we work with only the luonto today. That’s the easiest piece of one’s soul to master. You have to prove you can rend yourself at all before we attempt to set your itse free. And there’s no need to be tethered when you use your luonto. As you’ll see, you won’t lose your sense of self in quite the same way.”

“Why not?”

He considers for a moment. “The bird embodies only the strongest pieces of your personality. The rest of you remains with your body. You’ll feel its tether, even if you cross realms—even if you cross time.”

I go still. “I can cross time? Now?”

He glares at me. “Focus, Siiri. Aina is not lost in time, she’s lost in death. Your task is already insurmountable.”

I nod, looking down at my drum again. Nervous excitement flutters in my gut. “What if—” I swallow the rest of my question.

He grunts in frustration. “Gods, help me. Speak, girl.”

“What if I can’t do it?” I say before I can stop myself.

“What?”

“What if I can’t release my luonto?”

He glares at me, mustache twitching. “Have you been poisoned?”

I blink. “What? No.”

“You didn’t eat any questionable mushrooms for breakfast?”

“No—”

“Did you take a great fall? Hit your head, perhaps? Lose consciousness?”

“No,” I say again.

“Then I don’t understand your question,” he replies, still glaring at me.

I glance around, my hands clutching to the drum. “I just... what if I can’t do this? What happens then?”

With a huff, he shakes his head. “You’ve been a pain in my side from the moment we met. Your unflinching godsdamn self-assurance drives me to the very edge of madness. I have never met someone more confident in her own strength—and now you ask me this? I must assume you suffer the effects of eating a bad mushroom cap.”

My lips twitch as I fight a smile. “So, you think I can do it...”

His eyes flash as he points with his mallet. “Pick up that godsdamn drum, and do as I do. We’ll discuss whether or not you can do it after we’ve done it.”

I smile now, taking up my drum, and mirror his seated stance. The fire crackles, warming our faces. Next to me, V?in?moinen begins muttering under his breath. Then he takes handfuls of the smoke, wafting it over his face and down his arms in a cleansing ritual I’ve seen even the Christian priest perform. “What are you doing?”

“Smoke purifies the body and awakens the luonto,” he says.

As I waft the smoke over myself, trying not to cough, he grips his drum by the stout wooden frame and begins to tilt the face of it in towards the fire in a rhythmic motion. His whole body sways.

“You need to warm the head,” he explains, his eyes growing distant and unfocused. “Otherwise, the hide may crack in the cold when you strike it.”

I mimic his gestures exactly, angling the head of my drum towards the flame.

He shifts his hold on his mallet. “Follow my lead. We aim to release the luonto here, in this clearing. I want you to think of all the strongest parts of you—your determination, your cleverness. Let all the best of you fill you. Imagine a light glowing inside you here .” He points to his chest. “Push all those aspects of yourself into the light. The pulsing of the drum, the rhythm of your movements, they’ll help you. Let them take over. And when you’re ready—your luonto will know the moment—release the light. You’re not forcing it out but willing it to go. This is important.”

“I’m ready.” I nod, picking up my mallet.

“Use only the runes representing life,” he cautions, gesturing to the center of his drum. “We want our birds to take flight, so focus on the trees, the snow, the lake beyond the hut. It wants to come out of you, Siiri. It’s curious. It wants to fly.”

My excitement grows as I grip tighter to my drum and mallet.

“Don’t venture below the line, do you understand?” he adds, pointing at my drum. “Be measured. You mustn’t cross over.”

I scan the surface of my drum. There are marks denoting Tuonela across the bottom: the river, the dead, Kalma and Surma, the Witch Queen, even a small figure for Aina. “I can do it,” I say.

V?in?moinen tilts the head of his drum once more towards the fire. “Then we begin.”

I do my best to watch him as he makes the first stroke, the drumbeat echoing through the hut. With a rush of nerves, I tap my own mallet against the head of my drum. My hand vibrates as the warm tone hums.

We start slowly. Each time he drums, I echo his movement. The sound changes depending on where I strike. In the center, near the sun and moon, the pitch is lowest. It rattles low in my chest. Near the edges, the pitch is higher. Rap, tap, tap .

We slowly pick up speed. I strike the rune for the trees, the fish, the stars, the moon. I let my mallet move in aimless patterns.

Boom... boom, tap, tap. Rap tap. Boom.

I close my eyes and imagine that light inside me, filling my chest with heat. I fought Kalma. I am strong.

Boom.

I traveled north, battling the elements, the forces of magic, the evils of men. I am tenacious. I am brave.

Boom.

I risked it all for love. Not for me, Aina. For you. This is all for you. I am loyal. I am steadfast.

Boom.

The light inside me glows brighter, warmer, spreading until it burns in my chest. When the heat feels like it might turn my ribs to ash, I gasp and then suck in a quick breath. Head tipped back, I drum furiously, my body rocking as I lose myself to the sound and motion.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

The forest, the fields, the stars, the sky.

I call out to my luonto, Be free, my friend.

Stillness washes over me. Arching my shoulders back, I breathe deeply, opening my chest wide. The light wants to be free, and I want nothing more than to free it. On a deep exhale, I let go, one word fluttering in my mind: Fly .

My heart races, an odd buzzing in my chest. I feel dizzy and disoriented. The last thing I remember is sitting on the floor of V?in?moinen’s hut. I remember the drum. The sound still echoes in my ears. I was trying to release my luonto. Did it work?

As I open my eyes, I’m suddenly bobbed up and down. I grip the branch beneath me, holding on for dear life. My body feels strange—light as air, but strong. I flit left, then right, testing the strength of my wings.

I have wings.

Exuberance bubbles out of me as I flap them again.

The hut is right below me. Light glows from the smoke hole as white smoke rises in a steady stream. At the far end of my branch, close to the trunk, a white-tailed eagle watches me. He has a curved yellow beak ending in a deadly point. His eyes gleam in the dawn light.

How do I communicate to him that I’m well and unharmed—that I’m me?

I hop up and down, flapping my wings and clicking my beak.

With a nod, the eagle pushes off the branch and launches into the sky. His massive wings unfurl, and he flies upwards, following the spiral of the smoke.

There is no time for doubt. If I’m a bird, I can fly too. I must trust in the strength of my luonto. Opening my wings, I take a leap of faith, launching myself into the air. With a thrill, I feel myself rising, not falling.

I’m flying.

As soon as I feel the first cold rush of the air against my wings, I’m free. I climb higher, chasing after the soaring eagle. With the last of the night’s stars above us and a blanket of snow below, we fly off beyond the hut towards the frozen lake. The eagle swoops suddenly downward, pulling its wings in tight to plummet towards the ground. As he nears the frozen surface of the lake, he stretches out his wings and soars along the ice. Crystals of fresh, powdery snow stir under his wingtips.

I don’t know how long we ride the current, darting between the trees. But all too soon, V?in?moinen lands atop a towering pine. My heart drops, even as I follow. I don’t want this magic to end. For the first time, I feel unburdened, truly wild. A secret part of me wants to stay as a bird forever. But the stoic eagle catches my eye. His curved beak clicks, his chest feathers ruffle, and I can almost hear the old man’s voice.

Watch me.

A white light begins to glow at the center of his chest. With a faint pop, he disappears in a puff of feathers. My body goes rigid as I feel a sensation like someone gripping my shoulder.

Come back , a deep voice whispers in my ear. Return your light .

I puzzle out his meaning, remembering how it felt to release the light to free my luonto. Closing my eyes, I concentrate on willing all the pieces of myself I set free to coalesce into a ball of light. The more I feed of myself into the light, the more the sensation of being a bird fades. For a frantic moment, my luonto clings to freedom. I understand the impulse well. But my will prevails as I turn inward, following the light home.

“Come on.” V?in?moinen’s voice is soft, muffled. “Come back now, girl. First time is always the hardest.”

I’m lying flat on my back, my face turned to the side. Soft reindeer fur tickles my nose. Blinking my eyes open, I sit up quickly, rubbing my arms and chest. My forgotten drum clatters to the floor as a sheen of sweat breaks out across my forehead. I feel dizzy.

“Easy, there. Take it slow.”

Too late. I sway, feeling the churning of my gut. V?in-?moinen is ready. He sets a bucket between my knees with a chuckle, just in time for me to double over and empty myself of my breakfast.

“The first time is always disorienting,” he soothes. “You did well. You’re a natural. I’ve had students spread their wings only to crash right back down to earth.”

Heaving a deep breath, I groan, lifting my head out of the bucket. “What was I?”

“Here.” He ignores my question, pressing something into my hand. “Nettle and willow bark. Chew it. The nausea will soon ease.”

I pop the small wad in my mouth. My teeth release the juices of the nettle. The bark is hard, soaked in something to give it a little sweetness. In a moment, the waves of nausea buffeting me like water against rocks begin to recede. I push the bucket away, rubbing a shaky hand over my face. “It all felt so real.”

“It was real,” the shaman says with a laugh. “You were the bird, and you were also in here. Both happened.”

“What was I?” I ask again.

V?in?moinen smiles, his blue eyes twinkling. “Your luonto is a woodpecker.”

I frown. “A woodpecker?” I can’t deny feeling a little crestfallen. I was hoping to be a bird of prey. If not an eagle, perhaps an owl or a hawk.

The shaman senses my thoughts. “The luonto is never wrong. It suits you perfectly. What do we know of our friend the white-backed woodpecker?”

I chew on my wad of sweetly sour bark. “They’re bloody annoying.”

V?in?moinen blinks twice, then roars with laughter, the sound deep and musical. He slaps his leg. “I was going to make that joke if you didn’t get there yourself.” He wipes a tear of mirth from his eye. “You’re quite right. Like you, the woodpecker is bloody annoying.”

I scowl at him, but his smile has already fallen, his tone more somber.

“And clever, resourceful. Highly industrious. You’ll never find a more hardworking, tenacious little bird. They like to stay close to home, but they’re not averse to traveling long distances if the need arises.” He pauses, raising a thick white brow as he offers me a knowing smile. “And they mate for life.”

I spit the wad of bark into my hand. “Fine, I’m a wood- pecker.”

“Too right,” he replies, hiding his smile.

“So, I did it. I released my luonto. That means my itse is next, right? Am I ready?”

“You can’t release your itse until you are properly tethered. Your drum is done. All that remains is your hands.”

I swallow my excitement as he moves around the hut, rattling things about. He means to do this now.

Slowly, he turns. “Are you ready?”

I nod, determination filling me. “Yes.”

“Why do you do this?”

“For Aina,” I reply.

He nods. “For Aina.”

I place my hands flat on the table. “Do it, old man. I’m ready.”