Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 110034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
I flip open the book, my eyes taking a moment to adjust to the language. It’s all symbols, symbols which I know since all the languages of the worlds have been imbedded in me since birth, but it still takes a moment to nestle in my brain.
“These are in Dharcascian,” I say to Kalma, shutting the book closed. “These won’t do anything. I’ve worked with them before. Their magic is no match for a shaman from the Upper World, let alone Louhi.”
Not that I’m suggesting this, Sarvi speaks up. But Louhi has the upper hand because of shaman blood…
“Yes?” I reply testily. “And?”
You have access to shaman blood, too, Sarvi says.
“What shaman blood do I have?”
“Hanna?” Kalma says in surprise. “If she has any magic, she doesn’t know about it.”
I narrow my eyes at Sarvi. “What exactly are you suggesting here? Louhi has blood magic from Ilmarinen because she bleeds him. I may be cruel but I’m not about to do that to my wife.”
I most definitely wasn’t suggesting that, sir, Sarvi quickly goes on. What I meant by that was that you shouldn’t discount her. Torben’s blood is in her, just as it is in Rasmus. Just because Rasmus was trained by Torben, doesn’t mean Hanna can’t learn a thing or two.
“And who is going to train her?” I ask. “Do I look like a fucking shaman to you?”
She might not need any training, not in the shaman sense. The longer she’s here in Tuonela, the more it will come out. I see it, and I know you see it, too. The changes in her. How less…mortal she becomes. I’d be careful if I were you. One day you may be on the receiving end of her ire.
I laugh. “Oh Sarvi. Don’t you know that her ire is what turns me on?”
The room grows silent. Seems I have a way of making my disciples uncomfortable.
Kalma gets to his feet, sighing heavily, and reaches over to take the book back. “I’ll go back to the drawing board.”
“Forget it,” I tell him. “I know what I need to do. At least for now. And it doesn’t involve relying on Hanna.” They don’t seem to understand that none of us should be relying on her, not when I can’t trust her.
Then what’s your plan? Sarvi asks with another tail swish.
I get to my feet and brace my arms against the table. “It’s time to invoke my Shadow Self.”
“Now?” Kalma cries out softly. “This is the worst time to start playing with shadows, Tuoni.”
“According to you, there is no right time. Look, I understand the risk, especially with Louhi growing more powerful. But if I can conjure my Shadow Self, that will create a decoy. We can draw out the usurpers, we can draw out Louhi, Rasmus, the Bone Stragglers, whoever the fuck else is in favor of the uprising. I’ll call for a Bone Match, get Tuonen to referee, and show off the new queen. My Shadow Self will be with her, and I’ll be in the background watching. That’s just one example of many where my Shadow Self will come in handy.”
“I don’t like this,” Kalma says, shaking his head.
Neither do I, Sarvi says.
“Desperate times call for desperate magic,” I say, straightening up. “An old man told me that once.” I pass by them as I walk toward the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to need to do this alone.”
I stride out of the room and up several levels of stairs before I get to the Library of the Veils. The door is shut, as always, guarded by wards. I run my gloves over the skeleton carvings along the middle of it and a familiar hiss comes out, the sound of a giant lock unlatching.
I step inside and the darkness fades as the lights come on, illuminating the massive space. Energy rushes at me as it always does, making the runes tickle across my body. The Library of the Veils has always held so many spirits, imprints of every living soul across the ages, and the air is thick with them, like dust motes. So many veils overlapping, creating an intersection which entangles so many of the dead who don’t want to be dead. They are restless spirits and they are forever angry at me, thinking that because I am the God of Death, I am responsible for their demise. Arguing with them is pointless.
I wave the dust away with my hands, ignoring their indignant cries.
Rauta, my iron dog who is lying on the carpeted floor, raises its head. It looks at me with an enthusiastic whimper, it’s tail wagging with a heavy thud. Even when I feel unappreciated by my family or the entire fucking world around me, Rauta is always happy to see me.
The dog has one important job and that’s to guard the Book of Runes, which floats mid-air above it. Even if Rauta weren’t here, the book would be impossible to take, but you can never be too careful. The Book of Runes has all the magic in all the worlds, a lot of which I don’t even understand, but if it were to fall into the wrong hands, I’m inclined to think the entire fabric of the universe would be ripped to shreds.