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)
“Enough,” I say gently. “Rest.” I motion to Torben to help me remove his chains. With some effort, the shaman’s bindings come loose, and Ilmarinen cries out as his arms fall free, fresh blood welling from where the iron cut his flesh. One of the generals pulls out a strip of cloth, and I use it to wrap his wrists. I may be Death, but I’m not heartless. This man suffered for Louhi’s gain.
Now, he’s our best source of information.
Ilmarinen watches me warily. “You…you’re different than I imagined,” he says, voice parched. “I thought the God of Death would be colder, crueler.”
I almost laugh at that. “I can be cruel,” I say. “But cruelty without reason bores me. I prefer order, and I would have you alive rather than lost in Oblivion.” I nod at Torben, who nods back. We help Ilmarinen stand; he’s weak, barely able to hold himself upright, so I instruct one of the generals to support him.
“Do you know of anything in this palace we can use?” Torben asks. “Weapons, relics, something to give us an edge? We have the Finnish army outside waiting to do our bidding.”
Ilmarinen shakes his head slowly. “She took most of what mattered with her, but…the armory might still hold scraps. Old blades, talismans. Not enough to defeat Louhi outright, but perhaps something to protect yourselves. There’s a library upstairs too—maybe some knowledge there? My powers are too weak, but I recognize a fellow shaman when I see one.”
I press a hand to my temple. More delays, more detours, but what choice do I have? I need every advantage.
“Ilmarinen,” I say, surprised by the gentleness in my voice. “Come with us. Show us the armory. Help us if you can. I’ll see you safe, I promise.” A hollow promise in a realm of shadows, but I mean it as much as I’m able. He nods, resigned, leaning heavily on the general’s shoulder.
“What are you doing?” Torben whispers as he leans in to me. “He is too weak to travel. He can just tell us where the armory is.”
I give him a steady look. “I know he’s weak and discarded, but I don’t trust him yet. I can’t leave him alone unchained. Louhi’s influence runs so much deeper than one would believe. I should know.”
He thinks about that for a moment and then nods.
“Let’s go,” he says. “I’ll help my fellow shaman.”
He moves to Ilmarinen and, together with the general, supports him.
“The armory is in the basement,” Ilmarinen says, voice a deep rasp. “Follow the stairs all the way down, then to the left.”
I lead the group out of the chamber, back through the iron door, and into the half-lit corridor, General Pekka behind me. We hurry down the stairs as quickly as we can without leaving them behind. Amidst the echo of our boots, the palace groans softly, as if resenting our presence.
Hanna’s face drifts before my mind’s eye—her fierce determination, the way she challenged me. Damn it, I want her by my side again. I need her, and that alone shocks me to my core. I’ve never needed anyone. Is that love? Perhaps. If it is, let it be a weapon. Let it drive me forward, push me beyond my limits. If I have to stare down Old Gods, break apart Louhi’s schemes, and tear down reality itself to reach her, I will.
We reach the end of the stairs and head to the left. As we move, Ilmarinen’s breathing hitches. He points down a side passage, where a door carved with sigils stands slightly ajar. “There,” he says hoarsely. “Past that hall, down a staircase. The armory is below.”
I nod, pressing on. Whatever scraps of power and weaponry we can salvage, we will. Then, we’ll leave this forsaken place. Outside, my borrowed soldiers build barricades, ready to hold back whatever nightmares might wander in while we’re here. I wonder how long they will last once I release their minds. Long enough, I hope, to matter. Long enough to save Tuonela.
Which, in turn, will save their own world.
But just as I’m about to enter the armory, I hear a stampede of footsteps, and a general calls out from behind us.
“Uh, sir? There are people approaching the castle.”
Fuck.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
LOVIA
Sorrow chokes the air.
Not just sorrow, but anger and grief and frustration at the utmost cruelty and helplessness of it all.
Mielikki and Nyyrikki, Goddess and God of the Forest, are gone.
Brutally murdered in cold blood.
And every single step we’ve taken is fraught with enough emotion and tension to make the trees break. They bend toward us as we hurry beneath them, bowing to their Gods, grieving the loss just like us. Everything here is connected, and the forest knows how fragile life is now in the Land of the Dead.
Nothing is safe.
Louhi’s minions will come for everyone.