Page 22 of Goddess of Light
Torben tugs his scarf tighter and squints at the distant silhouette. “It looks close, but I know better than to trust my eyes here.”
He’s right. Distances in the Underworld can be deceiving, especially in a place like the Star Swamp, where perspective is warped by the deadly pools.
I pick a path forward. Torben, the generals, and the soldiers follow behind me, trudging carefully. I warn them again to step lightly, to test each patch of ground, but my warning comes too late for some. There’s a sudden splash, followed by a despairing cry that makes my heart stop.
I whip around and watch in horror as a man slips waist-deep, his rifle falling from numb hands. He screams, a raw, panicked sound that sends a shiver through me. I scramble back to him, reaching out, but before I can grasp his hand, he’s yanked down into the star-studded darkness below. For an instant, I see his face twisted in terror beneath me, lit by the faint glimmer of cosmic lights. Then, he vanishes, swallowed by Oblivion.
Only silence remains.
My stomach twists. That soldier is gone forever, lost. Not even the realm of death can reclaim him now. He’s trapped in that infinite void, drifting among stars that care nothing for souls. The realization that my carelessness cost him his eternity hits me like a hammer. Although I coerced him, he was still under my charge. If I intend to use these mortals to save Tuonela, I owe it to them not to discard their lives so easily.
“Careful!” I shout, voice cracking. The soldiers hesitate, shuffling nervously. Another one steps wrong, the ground giving way beneath her foot. She yelps, grabbing at a comrade’s shoulder. They manage to haul her back before she slips under, but the tension is mounting. They can smell danger now, and no amount of mental manipulation will entirely quell it.
Torben kneels, pressing a hand to the surface of the swamp. “This won’t do,” he mutters. “We can’t cross it, not like this.”
“I know,” I snap, trying to keep the panic from my voice. “But we must. The palace is our only hope, the only place I can hide this many troops from Louhi’s spies.”
He glances up at me, annoyance briefly sparking in his eyes. “Do you think I don’t know that? Give me a moment.” He fumbles in his satchel, producing his spellbook again, the pages rustling in the frigid wind.
“Another spell?” I ask, voice low. I can feel the soldiers watching me, looking for reassurance. I send a calming wave of thought through their minds, telling them to stay still, to not move an inch. In the silence, I can hear Torben’s quiet chanting.
He sprinkles a handful of something onto the swamp. Salt? Ash? I can’t tell. He closes his eyes, murmuring a string of words I do not understand. The sound of his voice changes, becoming resonant, echoing in this wretched landscape. I’m reminded of how he summoned the portal earlier—only now, we’re using magic in a place that already has magic infused in its very bones.
At first, nothing happens. Then, I hear a crackling sound, like ice forming on a pond. The soldiers gasp. I look down and see that the black surface is freezing over with a layer of frost. It spreads outward from Torben’s fingertips, radiating across the swamp’s surface. Snowflakes settle on the newly forming crust and do not sink. The sparkling darkness below grows dim, veiled by translucent ice. I test it with the toe of my boot, and it holds firm.
“Clever old man,” I say, relieved. He stands, shoulders slumping with effort. “You can keep it frozen?”
He nods grimly. “Not indefinitely,” he warns, “but long enough for us to cross if we move swiftly.”
I don’t waste a second. “Forward!” I bark to the soldiers, filling their minds with encouragement, a gentle push that makes their feet find purpose. They pick their way across the swamp now, careful but quick, each step clicking on the thinfilm of ice. I keep them in a loose formation, rifles at the ready, though what good bullets will be against Old Gods and horrors of the Underworld, I don’t know.
Torben and I fall into step near the center of the group. The cold bites at my cheeks, and I taste iron on the wind. The palace looms larger with every stride, a cluster of dark, jagged towers that look like claws scraping at the white stained sky, a poor man’s version of Shadow’s End. I remember this place from ages past, its halls lined with strange relics and Louhi’s awful decorating. Her sour presence still lingers here, though she’s gone—for now.
Oh the irony that the two of us have switched places. If I wasn’t in such a mood, I might even laugh.
We press on in tense silence, the only sounds the crunch of boots on ice and the faint whisper of snowfall, the soldiers marching forward, eyes ahead, focused on the task I implanted in their minds: get to Castle Synti and get there safely.
Torben looks drained, his breath coming in harsh puffs. The ice under us is stable for now, but I see hairline cracks forming as we walk. Oblivion resists being tamed. We must make haste.
Soon, the ground beneath us begins to slope upward. The ice gives way to actual ground—if you can call it that—where skeletal trees cluster, their branches rattling like old bones. I sigh with relief; the swamp is behind us now, a shimmering field of starlit blackness hidden under a thin shell of Torben’s magic. I feel a surge of gratitude for the shaman, my mortal father-in-law. Without his spell, we would have lost more troops, maybe even all of them.
The soldiers pause, waiting at the base of a rough, frozen hill. I nod at them, and they line up, disciplined and quiet. The palace is just ahead, rising from the snow like a gravestone. Once inside, we can take stock, search for what we need—weapons that bite deeper than mortal bullets, armor that can withstandcurses and claws, clues as to Louhi’s fate and how we might stop her forces.
And I must hope Hanna, Lovia, Tuonen, and the rest of my family hold on, wherever they are. I’m no savior yet, but at least I have a path forward. I have men who will fight for me, even if coerced. I have a shaman who can bend magic to our needs. I have this dreadful land beneath my feet, reminding me that to rule death, one must face it down a thousand times.
With a silent command, I push the soldiers onward, toward Louhi’s lair and whatever comes next.
CHAPTER NINE
LOVIA
The forest feelsdifferent at night.
There’s a hush in the air, as if the trees lean in to listen to our footsteps. The five of us move through a realm of towering trunks and sweeping canopies, tangled vines and ferns brushing at our ankles. In the lead are Tapio and Tellervo, stepping lightly, the old forest father and his antler-crowned daughter. They move as if they belong here—because they do. The forest is part of them, and they are part of it, like limbs of the same ancient creature.
Rasmus, still bound though no longer gagged, trudges unhappily a short distance behind them. Somehow, he has managed to stay quiet, I guess because he knows how quickly the Forest Gods would turn on him. I watch him stumble, and though he has certainly earned no sympathy from me, I can’t help but sense an unease pulsing beneath his bravado. He’s rattled. He knows he’s alive only because we allow it, and he’s right not to trust us.
At the back of the line, I walk beside the Magician. Tellervo occasionally glances our way, ensuring we keep pace, and her father casts a stern eye over his shoulder now and then, as ifworried we’ll vanish. Their worry and concern over their loved ones is palpable, lending tension to the air.