“Is it daybreak?” I had no clue as to what time it was. Surprisingly, I felt well rested and couldn’t remember if I’d dreamed or not, but my body was relaxed and warm. “I slept well. Thank you for the chance to meditate and pray by myself.”
“Aye, it is daybreak, nearly. Your friends still sleep. Should I wake them up? And yes, you would sleep well here. These caverns are protected by Aatu’s magic, and Aatu watches over all of his children as they sleep.”
That made sense. Being one of the Immortals, Howl would not need sleep. I gave her a soft smile. “No, let my friends rest. Wake them up after I am gone. I don’t want them arguing and trying to go with me. They came for support, but they cannot face the shadow beside me. This is my battle, and mine alone.”
I bit into the bread, and as it melted in my mouth I was struck by the thought that this might very well be my last meal, but I pushed it away. What would be, would be. What was destined to happen would, and I would live or I would die as my Lady willed it.
When I finished eating, Kitää helped me dress, gently zipping up my tunic and wrapping me with my cloaks. I grasped my wand and she stopped me.
“What is that ring?”
“Trenyth gave it to me. It’s the ring of Shevah—an elfin gift from a wonderful friend.” I held my hand out, gazing at the stone. I’d almost forgotten that I wore it—my hands had been buried in gloves since we’d arrived here.
“Do not forget you bear it. That gem will guide you to safety.” She gazed at it, then reached out and stroked my hair back, brushing it for me with long, soft strokes. “Don’t tie back your hair. I know it doesn’t make sense, but let those golden strands be yet another cloak. Let your beauty and light shine forth, Ar’jant d’tel. You know you are still her chosen one—perhaps not for what originally was ordained, but she walks in your aura, she guides your tongue and heart. That is so easy to see.”
I slipped into my boots, and Kitää arranged my hair so it streamed down my back, and I picked up my wand. “I’m ready,” I said, looking up at her.
She flashed me a brave smile. “I have faith in you, my friend.”
And so she led me to the mouth of the cavern where I slipped out into the early light of day.
THE SNOW WAS falling. I gazed across the expanse of mountainside. The sheets of ice were slick, glazing down over the rock. With a rock hammer, crampons on the bottom of my boots, and a length of rope over my shoulder, I was as ready as I’d ever be.
I slowly began to pick my way across the expanse of compact snow. It was so crusted over and I was so light that I only sank in to my ankles, but still, walking was slow going, and more than once I wished for snowshoes instead.
As the flurry blew flakes to stick on my hair, my eyelashes, my forehead, I wondered at the wisdom of letting my hair stay down. Ankle-length hair, when it didn’t have a life of its own like Smoky’s, could be dangerous in battle. And it was equally hard to manage in a storm like this. But Kitää had been so insistent that I decided she must have some sort of foresight on the subject.
Slowly, one step at a time, balancing myself with a walking stick I’d picked up before heading out of the cave, I worked my way across the expanse. I had one thing in my favor: Because of my small stature, my center of gravity was low and it was less likely I would fall than if I’d been of average size.
The wind blew something fierce, and I watched as the clouds raced across the sky, sending the snow into a sideways whirl. The flakes were small and they stung against the exposed flesh on my face, but the scarf I’d wound around my neck and over my mouth kept the worst of them at bay. I stopped for a moment and wiped my eyes against the glare of the snow as it threatened to blind me, then continued on.
Where would I find Vikkommin? Would he be hiding? Would I have to chase him out? The Skirts of Hel flanked an opening higher on the mountainside, a cavern in which I did not want to go because it was rumored to be an opening to the Underworld, and here, that very well might be right.
As the morning wore on, I looked back. Now the Pack’s headquarters was a distant blur against the mountain, but I had the feeling someone was watching me—and it didn’t feel like Vikkommin. Camille and the others would be awake by now, but I hoped they would heed my wishes and not come after me. Whatever I had to do, I didn’t want them to interfere.
A little farther on, I stopped, gazing up the mountainside. Without even realizing it, I’d come to the center of the Skirts of Hel and was standing right below the cavern, which seemed to have a very small opening. But the energy from the cave blasted down the mountain to send me reeling, and I doubled over, my stomach wrenched in a thousand directions.
Truly, a gate to the Underworld. Truly, the Gates of Hel.
A single note inside began to quiver and ring through my body, forcing me higher on the slope. I began to crawl up the mountain on hands and knees, because the energy was impossible to deny and impossible to wade through while standing. One foot at a time, I headed toward the cavern, and now I could hear something calling my name.
Pirkitta . . . Pirkitta . . . Pirkitta . . . It’s time for you to come back to me . . .
I froze. Vikkommin. That was Vikkommin’s voice from down below. I whirled, turning as the shadow embraced me, rushing up the side of the mountain. Within seconds, he was around me, a thick cloud, his energy filling every pore in my body, and as I forced myself to my feet I realized that Vikkommin had been waiting for me, and he was happy to see me.
“VIKKOMMIN, WHAT ARE you doing? What do you want?” I tried to keep myself focused on the reason for my journey, but the feel of his life force was like heady wine. I realized just how much I’d missed him—so much more than I remembered. The meeting was like fire to a match, like magnets long parted.
Pirkitta, you’ve come back to me. You’ve come to join me.
“No, no, I can’t join . . .” My voice drifted off. Could it be that Vikkommin still loved me? That he forgave me for what happened? Maybe I hadn’t killed him. Maybe he was telling me in his own way . . .
Come with me. You don’t know the power I have now, my sweet flower. My little concubine. You were my match. We can be matched again, in death as in life. And he surrounded me, a shadow taking form, his arms embracing me—his body made of smoke.
I dropped my head back, leaning into the billowing shadow that held me fast. His embrace felt so good and I remembered the nights we’d spent together, nights of passion and fire, nights of tasting love’s delights, the nights where we’d made plans to rule the Order: wise, benevolent rulers, full of love and lust and magic to shake the mountains.
Remember . . . remember what we had . . .
Trying to shake my head clear, I brought my attention back. “Vikkommin, I need to know—I need to know what happened that night. I need to know if . . . if . . .”
If you killed me? If you turned me into what I am now, my sweet sprite?
“Yes. Please, tell me . . . I can’t remember.”
And then, Vikkommin pulled me back into his arms and he was kissing me, his shadow so strong I couldn’t break away. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to. But then I saw a gleam—his shadow form had eyes as black as night and they were sparkling with the strength of a thousand dark suns.
Oh my sweet one, you most certainly did kill me. You tore me to shreds. You are most assuredly a murderess, and now you will spend the rest of your days with me, for I am going to do to you what you did to me. And we will be back together again, for eternity.
And then, he began filtering into my body, his shadow shifting through my pores, seeping in through the cells, and I started to scream.