Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 125422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
We all stare at him expectantly, the Magician’s hands raised, ready to shut him up if needed.
Rasmus tries to stand straighter, though the bonds pull him taut. He wets his cracked lips. “Louhi may be my mother,” he begins, “but she left me to die. She sent Yggthra to finish the job, didn’t she?” He glances at me and the Magician, fear and hatred mingling in his stare. “I’m aware you saved me—Gods know you keep reminding me—but you have things the other way around. You don’t trust me, but I have no reason to trust you either.
“But I don’t want to die,” he goes on after a deep breath, his voice steadier now. “Not for Louhi, not for any of you. If I must choose, I will choose survival, my own skin.” He grits his teeth, anger making his eyes gleam. “If helping you fight back means I get to live another day, then I’ll do it. If betraying you later means a better bargain, then maybe I’ll do that too.”
Well, I certainly didn’t expect him to admit that.
A hush falls. Tapio’s beard ripples with quiet disapproval, the squirrel chattering uneasily. Tellervo’s nostrils flare. The Magician remains silent, galaxies swirling, unreadable.
“So you’re a selfish bastard, that’s what you’re saying?” I ask.
Rasmus juts out his chin. “I’m an honest bastard, more honest than you’ll ever get from a cornered animal. Let me go, and I’ll help you because it’s in my interest. I can’t return to Shadow’s End now, and being alone here means certain death.” He looks at the Magician’s voided face. “Or keep me leashed; it guarantees I won’t be able to help any of you, including myself.”
Tapio’s shoulders sag slightly. “This is what mortals have become,” he says with disappointment. “Rootless and faithless, serving only themselves.”
I step forward, sword lowered. “Then we let him live,” I say. “For now. We will see if his self-interest keeps him useful. Otherwise…”
“So you’ll free me?” Rasmus asks.
I give him a grim smile. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. We’ll see when the time is right.”
“Very well,” Tapio says. “This forest is no place for traitors or turncoats, but if you vouch for his momentary worth, we won’t interfere. We have greater fears at the moment.” He gestures to the sky slowly growing dark beyond the trees. “The longer we stand here talking about this, the further we get from finding my wife and son. We must set off again before darkness falls.”
Rasmus exhales, and I can feel his relief. His honesty probably saved his life, but I’ll be damned if I let my guard down around him. I know he can’t help us if he’s bound, but if or when his help is needed, then I’ll reassess the situation. Until then, that boy is still our prisoner.
Tellervo’s eyes flicker toward my leg. I know I’m still limping, that the arrowhead is still lodged in my calf, causing a constant, throbbing ache I’ve done my best to ignore.
“Your leg,” she says, voice softer now, the brusqueness fading. “It weakens you, and we have little time for weakness.” Her tone is blunt but not cruel. “How did it happen?” Her gaze shifts to Rasmus before I even get the chance to tell her.
To his credit, he looks away, seeming ashamed.
“Sit,” she instructs me as she glares at him. A mossy rock beside me glows faintly, and I reluctantly lower myself on it, my legs straining from the effort.
Tapio shifts, and I sense the forest around us humming with a subtle energy. The Magician watches from a short distance, galaxies swirling quietly under his hood. Rasmus, still bound, keeps silent, perhaps realizing that making a sound right now would be unwise.
Tellervo kneels gracefully and studies the torn flesh. She nods once, and without a word, she places her hands on either side of the wound. Her fingers are warm but not hot, as if infused with gentle sunlight filtered through leaves.
I brace myself for pain, but what I feel is something else—a slow, radiating warmth that seeps into the muscle and bone. I gasp softly as I sense the arrowhead shifting. There’s a moment of pressure, then a sudden relief as the shard of metal slides free. I look down to see green shoots coming from the ground, carrying the broken part away.
Chartreuse light swirls around Tellervo’s hands, filtering into the wound. I watch, stunned, as the torn edges of flesh knit themselves back together. The raw agony dulls to a faint throb before it vanishes entirely. Within moments, my skin is smooth, unbroken, save for a faint, shimmering scar.
Tellervo sits back on her heels, brushing her palms together. “There. Take care not to get shot again. Your body keeps score when it comes to my magic. It can only take so much before it won’t work at all.”