And then, he began filtering into my body, his shadow shifting through my pores, seeping in through the cells, and I started to scream.
SEVEN
“NO! PLEASE, VIKKOMMIN, STOP!” I PUSHED against him but it was impossible to push against smoke and mirrors. And as he entered my body, his madness touched my soul and I screamed again, for I saw how far over the edge he’d gone. Enraged, he was, and angry and out to hurt me in any way possible. He didn’t love me, he wanted to punish me for all time.
I struggled, fighting him, trying one spell after another. I pushed, but that had no effect, and I put up wards and barriers, but it was too late—the fox was already in the henhouse. Finally, in desperation, I screamed for a blast of ice lightning to aim itself directly at me—I could absorb the energy, I thought—but it bounced off of his shadow.
What the fuck was I going to do? I couldn’t let him win. He’d be able to do exactly what he planned—turn my body inside out and absorb my soul into his—and I couldn’t let that happen. I wasn’t ready to die. I struggled, dragging myself along the ice, trying to keep focused. The feel of him inside my mind made me want to scream, to shake him off like ants at a picnic.
I have to stay calm, I have to figure out what to do. If I let him rattle me, he’ll win.
I yanked the gloves off my hands, slamming my left palm down on a sharp chunk of ice. The pain broke through. I grabbed hold of the feel of torn flesh and hung on for everything I had and it cleared my thoughts for a moment.
Now what? I had only a few minutes to decide as he surrounded me, infiltrated my body more and more.
“The ring—the ring . . .”
I heard a faint voice on the wind and looked up the mountain. Standing on one of the rocky crags was Howl, watching but not interfering.
Of course! The ring of Shevah. I concentrated on it, begging for whatever help it might give me. A pulse rippling through my hand took me by surprise, and then another, and then a loud shriek ripped through the air and Vikkommin went sailing down the mountain in shadow form. As he picked himself up, I knew that I had to decide what to do next.
And then, Undutar’s words rang in my ears. Pirkitta, remember: To counter shadow, you must remove the light. Only in the darkness will shadow falter. Only in darkness can you destroy what is left of him.
Darkness. The cave—the Gates of Hel! I scrambled to my feet, driving myself up the mountain, forcing myself on. I knew Vikkommin was gathering himself, aiming for me again, and I had to reach the cavern before he came. In darkness, he wouldn’t have nearly the power he did out here in the light. All shadows need light to exist.
I struggled to catch my breath and, looking up, found Howl standing by me, in wolf form. He knelt down. I said nothing but leapt on his back and he raced for the cavern ahead, with me clinging to his back as if my life depended on it—for it did. We reached the cave and he knelt again so I could get off. Quickly, he turned back into his human form.
“I cannot go with you, little sister. I am proscribed from entering the Gates of Hel. But I will stand watch. Blessings, my Ar’jant d’tel.”
I gave him a soft smile. “If something happens, tell . . .” “I will bear the news to your friends, if need be. Go now. Your adversary is nearly on your heels.” And he backed away.
With a glance over my shoulder at Vikkommin, who was almost within reach, I took a deep breath and plunged into the cavern, into the darkness, into what I hoped would be my salvation.
THE CAVERN WAS dark, so dark I couldn’t even see my hands before my face. I quickly moved away from the opening, away from what little light emanated in from outside. I couldn’t allow Vikkommin to have any form of power over me, and the less light there was, the less power he’d have.
As I moved ahead, using my walking stick to sweep the path, I began to realize there was a form of light in here—my hair; the strands were glowing with a soft gold light. Just enough so that I could see the rock forms on the wall, even though all around me was inky and black. How the hell . . .? And then I realized that when she’d brushed my hair this morning, Kitää must have put something on it. But there was no time to figure it out now.
I hurried ahead, and finding an outcropping, I stopped behind it to catch my breath. He couldn’t see me in here, but he could probably hear me.
Pirkitta . . . Pirkitta . . . Where did you go now? You’re being a very naughty girl and I’m going to have to punish you for it. Come out now, back onto the ice, and I’ll make it easy on you.
I forced my tongue still, even though I wanted to shout out a retort, a snide comeback. This was no time for pettiness. I had to destroy him, but more than that, I had to find out why I’d done this to him.
I headed toward the back of the cavern and found yet another passageway leading down. Since I had no idea if I was coming out of this alive, I decided I might as well follow and find out where it led. As it was, I had no clue as to how I was going to destroy Vikkommin. Undutar seemed convinced I could do it while in the darkness, but I wasn’t so sure.
The passage led down a narrow ledge with steep ravines on either side. I glanced over the edge and quickly pulled back. I couldn’t have seen what I thought I saw—no, it wasn’t possible. But a second look and I knew I wasn’t hallucinating.
There was a column in the center of the deep pit to my right. Along the column were row after row of faces—death masks and skulls, ornamenting the towering stalagmite that was a good eight feet thick. Holy Hel, no wonder they called this cavern the Gates of Hel. It truly was a death chamber.
I turned back to see the faint glimmer I knew was Vikkommin. He was waiting at the top of the path and I sensed a hesitancy now—a pause in certainty.
“What’s wrong? Are you afraid to come down here?”
Come up. You know eventually I’ll have you. Or you’ll starve to death, waiting for me to leave. Pirkitta, you don’t know the power you’ll have when you are with me. You can’t imagine the beautiful strength that flows through my being now. You will have all that, once you’re with me.
Power. . . power . . . Where had I heard that before? A fuzzy thought began to take shape in my mind.
“I don’t think so. You’re an abomination, Vikkommin. If I’m the one who turned you into this, I promise you, I will give myself over for punishment. But you cannot go on like this—you feed on the life of the Northmen and their families. You are no longer part of the cycle.”
Oh, that’s what you said long ago, that’s what you predicted would happen to me. But look—you are the reason for my existence in this form. You created the monster you feared I was becoming. How do you feel about that, my love? How do you feel now that you know you’ve fucked things up and birthed a fearsome shadow who is the terror of the northern wastes?
I glanced around, staring at the skulls on the central tower, trying to think. The pit over the edge was so vast that if I had to, I could throw myself in and he’d never be able to get me. Had I really done this to him? Was I, at the heart, responsible for all of this?
You’re making a mistake, Vikkommin. You’re going against the Order, Vikkommin. You’re turning into a monster, Vikkommin . . .
His voice mocked mine, in perfect precision, and suddenly, the years began to slide away as the secrets I’d locked within my heart broke open . . . and I was standing back in his room that night, facing my love for the last time.
*
VIKKOMMIN HAD CALLED me to his room. Nothing unusual—we spent a great deal of time together, but tonight something was different. He had a look on his face that I didn’t like. One I recognized all too often as of late.
“You’ve been in the White Forest, haven’t you? What are you doing there, Vikkommin? You promised you’d curtail how often you go. You know I don’t like it and neither would the Priestess-Mother.”
Vikkommin, strikingly handsome and with a rogue look in his eye, swept me into his arms. “Kiss me before you scold me,” he said, and I did. His lips pressed against mine, war
m and like fine wine, and they sucked me in deep, into his love, into his passion, and I wanted nothing more than to strip off my clothes and climb into bed with him.
But there was something—something that struck me as odd . . . off-kilter. I pulled away, and catching my breath, I turned back to him.
“What are you doing, my love? What calls you to the forest? We have everything we could want here. Everything we could ask for.”
A flame shot wild in his gaze and he shook his head. “You truly believe that? You don’t understand, do you? I have to show you. If I show you, you won’t object. You’ll want to be part of this—and I want you to be. You’re my love, my soul mate, my chosen one. Pirkitta, let me show you what I have discovered.”
I sighed. He wouldn’t be content until I said yes, and I decided that maybe this was the best way to keep him out of trouble. If I knew what I was fighting, I’d know how to engage it.
“All right, then. Show me what you’ve learned from the White Forest.”
“Come here, then. Come and let me enter your thoughts. Let me show you what I’ve been learning. What I plan to teach you.”
He held out his arms again and I moved into them, shivering as he wrapped them around me in an embrace so tight I could not break it. He began to turn me, to spin me—or at least it felt like it—and we whirled onto the astral, our souls joined together.
“Look—look what I’ve found how to do . . .”
And then I entered his mind. The brilliant flames were there, flames of ice, so violent they rocked his soul. I screamed, trying to avoid the wash of the burning ice as the spiraling flames took shape into dancers, who spun around us in a circle of madness. Ishonar . . . the most dangerous of elements—somehow Vikkommin had tapped into the elemental power of ishonar.
“No—ishonar is reserved for punishment only. It is the most powerful form of ice, and we are never to touch it unless it be in urgent need with approval of the Elders.” I tried to break away, but the ishonar Elementals rushed at me and I stopped. “My gods, Vikkommin, you have control over them.”
It couldn’t be—no mortal could control this power. No sane mortal tried. It was like controlling dragons—it just wasn’t done. In fact, the ability to tap into the icy fires of ishonar had been passed to the silver dragons, and they were the only creatures alive who could use the magic as they wished without losing themselves to it. For there was a madness in the extreme cold, a fury when unleashed, that could bring the worst of nature’s wars—the ice ages—upon the world.
“You can’t control this! You can’t possibly hope to control this power.”
Vikkommin laughed and held me tighter. “Oh, on the contrary—I can control it. I have learned how to use it, and I will use it. Once we are in control of the temple, we will wage holy wars upon our enemies. We will freeze our enemies in Pohjola to the core. We will eradicate the fire giants. We will raise ourselves to be at the side of Lady Undutar herself. We will become gods with this power.”
And then I felt her—the Lady herself—coming through me.
“This is madness,” she whispered, and I spoke the words for her. “You dare to compare yourself to the gods? You will pay for this, and you will pay mightily.”
Without a second thought, I reached out—or perhaps Undutar did, or the both of us—and we ripped Vikkommin’s soul off the astral and thrust it into the nearest shadow form. To prevent him returning to his body, I leapt off the astral back into the room. And I gazed on my love one last time, before turning his body inside out. Everything faded, and the next thing I knew, I was screaming, and my world turned upside down from then on.
“OH, GREAT MOTHER. Vikkommin, how could you? How could you hope to ever . . .”
The memories kept flooding back. The sound of his body ripping as I tore him apart. The mad laughter of his soul as he nestled into the shadow. The scream caught in my throat as I killed the love of my life to prevent him from hurting others. He’d gone mad with power and there would be no stopping him.
In that brief glimpse of his soul, I’d recognized that he was even more powerful than the Priestess-Mother and he would rampage across the land and tear it asunder with the ishonar.
But how could I tell the Elders Council? How could I make the Elders believe, when even I was in shock and disbelief? And so the memories retreated, fading back into a little corner of my heart, and I locked them away.
Because I also knew there was danger to myself. For when Vikkommin had entered my mind to show me what he could do, he’d not only shown me how to use the ishonar myself.
Now, as the memories flooded back, I realized I also knew how to control the ishonar—I could make the ice burn and I could shift the weather in ways no mortal or Fae should be capable of. If the Elders had known what I could do, they would have instantly put me to death. Somewhere deep in my subconscious, I must have realized that and blocked off all memory.
Horrified that I was now far too powerful for my own—or anybody else’s—good, my first thought was to throw myself over the edge of the pit, but then Vikkommin laughed, and his laughter stopped me.
You never could handle the concept of being a goddess, could you? I see you remember now. But you do not frighten me—you are terrified to use your strength and you won’t use it for fear of setting off some chain reaction.
I stood my ground, staring at the glowing edges of his shadow form. He was less powerful down here. The darkness drained his strongest abilities, and what little light my hair gave off did him no good.
I had to make him come to me.
“You’ll never win. You may kill me, but the Lady is out for your death and you’ll never be anything but what you are now: a shadow of your former self. Because you can’t do it now, can you? You can’t control the weather. You can’t control the ishonar, and it beckons you and drives you mad.”
He let out a howl of rage and moved closer. Pirkitta . . . I would have shared this with you. I would have brought us back together and we would have lived together in the shadow. But you mock me—and I will destroy you.
I steeled myself. “I not only mock you, I spit in your path. I abjure what you have become. I deny you, Vikkommin. I deny your power and your shadow and the madness reeling within you.”
You! You deny me! I can tear you to pieces, I can make you into what I am and you have the gall to deny my power?
And then he moved. He headed my way and I picked up my wand. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, but now that I had the power of the ishonar in me, I knew I could destroy him. I waited until he was within arm’s reach, and then I raised my wand.
“To the Gates of the Underworld I send thee, to the depths of Tuonela I command thee, to the arms of Tuoni I direct thee. Thou creature of darkness and shadow, thou power-mad sorcerer—you are no longer Chosen of the Lady, you are a vile creature, an abomination, and I send thee to the arms of oblivion.”
I focused and caught hold of one of the ishonar Elementals. She was dancing on the edge of my wand, and I thrust her forward, burning in all her frozen and brilliant glory. She rose up, growing larger, and her face, faceted in ice and bathed in purple fire, changed from sublime to monstrous as her mouth opened wide and she turned in Vikkommin’s direction.
He lunged toward me, but she interceded, touching his shadow and sending shock waves of pain through the smoke. He screamed, loud and plaintive. But I held fast, dropping to my knees. This was it, this was the only way, to turn the power that he’d so craved back on him. I reached deep, sought for all of the threads within myself that knew how to use the ishonar. I gathered them up into one mass and ripped it out of myself, toward him: a rolling, wheeling spiral of energy that flamed so brightly it illuminated the chamber.
For one moment it seemed to strengthen him and then I caught his thoughts as it touched the outer edges of his being.
Pirkitta—what are you doing to me? No—how could you do this? How could you do this to me?
And then he began to scream, an
d his scream echoed in the chamber, rising to a howl as his anguish grew. The wheel of ishonar rolled on, encompassing him, surrounding him, and he became the center of the wheel, spokes of fire radiating out from his core, meeting to eat away at his soul and devour and break him into shards.
I covered my eyes, not wanting to watch, not wanting to see what I was wreaking on Vikkommin’s soul, and yet I could not help but lower my hands as the shriek rose to a crescendo.
Vikkommin was in the air now, caught in the currents of wind that buffeted the chamber. He was being pulled apart, scattered to the four corners, ripped asunder. The wheel of ishonar moved on, rolling through him, and then it fell over the edge of the footpath, taking what remained of my love with it, down to the depths of Hel, where he would be washed clean and returned to the universe as new matter. Oblivion’s son.
I sat in the darkness, breathing heavily. Memories flooded my thoughts, memories of that night. Yes, I had killed him at the directive of my Lady. I’d set in motion all of these events at her bequest. And she had left me to wander, to take punishment, because if I remembered what had happened, the temple would have killed me.
But what now? What of the ishonar? What of my ability to control it?
Look inside, my Ar’jant d’tel. Look inside yourself. Don’t be afraid.
And there in the darkness, I went deep into my soul, let myself sink to the depths of my core. When I came to where the power of the ishonar had dwelt, I realized that I’d ripped out my knowledge of how to use it when I killed Vikkommin’s shadow. I’d used the knowledge this one time, to end his life—for it was the only hope I had of destroying him.
My ability to use the ishonar had died with him.
I slowly picked myself up, dusted off my cloak, and gathered my wand and everything I needed. I took one last look at the depths of the cavern, and using my walking staff, I made my way back toward the entrance.
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