The Lady of Snow and Sorrow - 11. Inside the Snowstorm
Jari woke Jukka up without waiting for the mountain tribe to regain consciousness. He didn't know these people and their ways with the strangers, so he feared that the riding wolves might prove a too valuable asset for this folk. The head of Wintersun also supposed that not everyone would be happy about their marvelous transformation, as they had lost the inhuman strength and immortality of Trolls. The front man lived long enough to learn that people often were ungrateful. But if at home it only was distressing, here it might cost the band's lives.
He discovered the whimpering wolves behind thick bars, asked Jukka to release them and left to search the precious elven weapons. The bassist took one of the Troll axes scattered about and started crushing the bars. When Jukka was through with the work, his grey wolf leaped at him – bright-eyed, bushy-tailed - and licked his face with utter joy. The white beast sat still, waiting for his master to reappear.
“Are you just going like that? Without saying goodbye?” Skadi's low voice asked behind Jukka's back. The bassist wished he could be swallowed by the earth in a heartbeat.
“Every second counts for us. We could not wait longer.” he replied.
“Here are your weapons,” the former troll-maiden said curtly, handing Jukka his ax and Jari's sword.
“Great! Jari must have run off his legs looking for them!” the bassist said, still feeling very awkward, as if he were not at all Skadi's savior but seducer.
“To repay my and my people's debt, I could rejoin you as the third warrior. Your blond friend is more designed for magic, not for battle.”
“No way!” Jari said hoarsely, stepping from around a cave column.
“Why?” asked Jukka and Skadi in the same breath.
“Nobody else should die because of us. And, besides, we've only got two wolves, not three. And even a wolf like this is only able to carry one person at a time.”
“If you wait for one more day, I could make myself a pair of skis,” said the young woman.
“No,” he repeated, frowning. “We can't wait any longer. And you don't owe us anything, really.”
“My people have shot your birds dead and eaten them,” Skadi confessed, lowering her eyes.
“Poor things,” exhaled the front man bitterly. He had already got attached to Wintersun's black-winged guides and considered them as Odin's messengers.
“How're you going to find the path then?”
“The Runes. The same formula that helped me transform you,” Jari said firmly. “Clear Vision.”
Skadi silently shook her head. To see her that unsettled was quite heartbreaking, for her appearance and manners strongly reminded the lead guitarist of the one he loved.
“If ever you change your mind, my sword's at your service,” she uttered. “You must have seen our kitchen. You may find a smoked bear leg there to feed the wolves. The journey's gonna be hard.”
Then she fell on Jukka's neck, almost choking him in a spate of passion.
“I'll be back as soon as everything is over. I promise,” he muttered, tenderly kissing her lips.
“It's not at all far, the Entrance. But beware of the Winter spirits and the madness they might bring to you. Don't even try to fight them with steel. They only fear fire. Good luck now and bye!”
She turned away and ran, so that no one could see her cry.
Jari's and Jukka's further way lay directly to the North. Here, behind the mountain chain, there was nothing but an infinite white desert. A strong icy wind was pushing them back, making the wolves growl in displease. It was so cold and bitter that the travelers thought their faces would soon crumble into dust. The snowflakes flying to their face stung like evil white wasps, so the men covered their faces with skiing masks and scarves and hid their eyes behind ski goggles. But even then, feeling more comfortable, they could not put their wolves into gallop any more and would hardly make more than five or six kilometers per hour, because the poor riding beasts had no eye protection. Finally, Jari and Jukka had to jump off and continue their way on foot together with the wolves trotting by their side.
Despite the fact that in Wintersun's home world it was June, nothing reminded of it in this desolate place. Dusk started falling quite early, as if at least it was October. Each new step was getting more difficult and took more and more forces from the two exhausted men who now seemed nothing but two tiny points of black ink on an infinite book page.
Jukka contemplated Jari with a mixture of compassion, surprise and admiration. Normally the front man spent most of his time at his apartment in Helsinki, immersed in composing. Sometimes he would took strolls about a park or along the shore, but he was not prepared for this kind of endeavor. However, now the front man complained on nothing and moved on, as stubborn as a tank, while Jukka was about to collapse into the snow. Did the Runes give him endurance as well? Or was it anything greater – for example, the force that made him polish an album for many years?..
As evening approached, an immense cloud spread across the sky above them. It was not white, but nearly black and seemed to have wide triangular wings. On seeing it, Jari shuddered and exhaled a swearword. He told Jukka to fix a fire and started drawing something on the snow.
“What are you doing?” asked the bassist, raising his eyes from the canned heat.
“Building a shield against evil spirits,” the guitarist explained. “All we need to do is not to allow the snowstorm destroy it.”
“It will be hard, given that fucking wind,” thought Jukka but said nothing. Their supply of fuel tablets was running out. Another supply was in Teemu's backpack that disappeared together with the young man.
“Cheer up!” Jari exclaimed, as if he was reading Jukka's thoughts. “Skadi said – we're close!”
Later on, Jukka saw that Jari was drawing a circle about five meters in diameter, which was formed by a set of Runes, among which Jukka recognized Teiwaz, Algiz and Thurizas, the representative of Thor and his hammer Mjolnir. Seconds later, he spotted Kenaz – “the Torchlight” - exactly what they needed. The pointed edges of this rune were directed outside, ready to meet any threat.
Soon, they had a spot of flickering golden fire inside the circle and felt more confident. Jukka melted some snow in the kettle and brewed the last bags of Earl Grey tea. Jari, who seemed more tired from the work than from the journey, sat down by the fire. The bandmates had plenty of things to tell each other but were too exhausted, thus they were just sipping tea. Jukka found a stone-dried piece of lemon and bit it in two.
The bandmates fed the wolves and dined themselves, leaning against the warm bodies of their riding animals. But short was their rest, as the snowstorm doubled its force, threatening to blow the handmade shelter off the fire. Jari jumped on his feet and rushed to save the Runic shield from being swept out. Suddenly Jari's white wolf rose to its large paws, bristling up and showing its fangs. The front man saw a shape move within the dense swarm of white wasps. It belonged to a man, and Jari would recognize this walk anywhere.
“Oh, no... that's Kai...” he whispered.
Jukka raised his head, curious to see what drew his friend's attention.
“Kai!” he yelled, dashing towards the drummer.
“God! Jukka, you've come here for me, at last!” - the voice of Kai pierced the darkness. “Frankly, I've already lost any hope... Is Teemu with you? And Jari?”
The front man caught Jukka by the sleeve, shook his head in disapproval and forced the bassist to stay within the circle.
“Don't move,” he ordered.
“Guys?” shouted the drummer through the blizzard. “Won't you come up to meet me?”
“Here we are, Kai! Stop walking in circles and sit down by the fire!” Jari replied, watching his long-lost friend move in the snow.
“Sorry, Jari. I've lost my sight. I am blind. I don't know how long it will last, but I cannot find you.”
“You are very close, man. Just follow our voices,” the guitarist insisted, his heart pounding in each cell of his body. He saw that Jukka was ready to throw himself beyond the shield and pulled his friend closer.
As Kai approached, the friends could see him more clearly now. The poor thing had no eyes at all – only two bleeding holes instead. He stumbled through the snow, his hand stretched forward, attempting to touch something solid.
“Just give me your hand, anyone!” he begged. About four meters separated them. Four fucking meters. Even someone blind would find their way such a distance.
“Remember Skadi's last words,” Jari whispered to Jukka, still holding him tight. Both men approached the very edge of the safe area, calling for their friend. Three meters... Two... Jukka attempted to stretch the haft of his ax out to Kai, but Jari was faster.
He just clicked a lighter, releasing the fire, and heard a loud shriek of agony. A monstrous thing was facing the bandmates; it resembled a giant insect made of ice but nonetheless able to move and speak. Its heavy jaws snapped against Jukka's face but caught nothing, as the man quickly stepped back.
“As well as you, I wanted nothing but to embrace our Kai... Now you see. They will copy our friends, our enemies, our parents – just to pull us out of safety or drive us nuts,” Jari grunted. “Don't waste time! We should renew the Runes in the snow! The storm is effacing them!”
They returned to work, as the insect-like ghosts were dancing around them, changing their shape, speaking and chanting in different voices and unafraid of the two furious, growling wolves. There was a little girl freezing to death and crying for help. There was the school teacher who kept Jari afraid when he was a boy. There were people violently killing each other and hideous scenes of child abuse. The bandmates did their best not to look, but they could not stop the sound.
As long as the fire continued burning and the circle was intact, the ghosts did not dare to come close. Gradually the blizzard was winning over the two audacious but exhausted men, effacing the runes sooner that they could be renewed. Desperate, Jari drew another circle around the fire. It was smaller, and, consequently, easier to maintain.
“How long can we hold on like that?”
“No idea. How many tablets do we still have?”
“Two.”
“Keep your fingers crossed.”
“Jari? Could you play and sing something? I will go on with the circle, but you... Just sing, please, or I will lose my fucking mind!”
“It's insane, but in fact, there's nothing else we can do.”
Jari drew his guitar, hit one lower string (it was out of the question to take off the gloves) and sang, his harsh vocals challenging the monotonous wail of the snowstorm. He also spotted the golden lights move and did not believe his own eyes. About twenty lights approached them, spreading panick among the evil spirits. The front man looked at his guitar: the runic inscription was glowing again.
“Clear Vision,” he exhaled. “That means the lights are real! Someone's coming up to help...”
The bandmates recognized the brightest light, which was red. It was coming from a flare. The one they must had lost during the Troll attack.
(to be continued)