Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 125422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
But when Lovia told me what happened, that Rasmus had risked his life to save hers, then I realized that perhaps I was wrong about him. Perhaps he had deserved more of my trust. It was apparent that in the end, it wasn’t his own survival that was the most important thing to him, it was my daughter’s. It was all of us. He wasn’t as selfish as he pretended and proved himself worthy too late.
Torben, of course, took the news the hardest. The poor man. Rasmus had always been like a son to him because he was his son. He was his flesh and blood, as well as his student in the magical arts, and while their relationship was complicated ever since Louhi entered the fray and fucked things up, as the she-devil does, I could tell he loved him greatly. I got to know the old shaman against my will as we were stuck in the Upper World and while he’s certainly made more mistakes than the average mortal, he carries them inside him.
But for now, we all carry on. We have to.
We continued down the mountain, Lovia and Torben leaning on each other in their sorrow, the path narrow and fraught with dangers. Loose scree and falling rocks sent a couple of soldiers falling to their deaths, and around every corner we imagined the Old God that killed Rasmus to rise up again.
Eventually, we made our way down to the alpine forest that follows the base of the mountains, until finally we reached our destination at the edge of the shadowy trees.
“The Mountain Lair,” I announce to the party, poised beneath a sheer rock face. I meet their gazes, expecting at least one of them to laugh, since Hanna thought it was hilarious that I called my secret caves this name.
But everyone just looks at me expectantly, even Hanna, who, in her Goddess state of mind, doesn’t find anything humorous. This is what hurts me most of all about her loss of self. The Hanna that I know and love is the funniest person I’ve ever met, even though she doesn’t know that herself. Her quick banter, her pithy remarks, playful comments, and sarcastic snorts—those are some of the things I love most about her. Without her sense of humor, she’s beautiful but blank, missing something vital, something I never knew how important it was until it was gone.
Perhaps you should have told your wife that when you had the chance, I chide myself. Maybe you should tell her that anyway.
Gods, what happens if she never returns to me? The thought strikes horror in my battered heart. I swore I would never leave her side, even if she remains stately and cool (in her brief moments of clarity, she kept comparing her other self to some Doctor Manhattan, yet another—potentially nerdy—pop culture reference I don’t understand), and I plan to uphold that promise. But it would certainly lead to an emptier, colder and boring life without the real Hanna by my side.
I push the thoughts away—the garrison still staring at me, waiting for something—and look back to the steep rock face. Normally I have a key to unlock the magic veil and make my lair visible, but who the hell knows where that is at this point.
I have to dig in deep, see if I can remember any of the magic the Book of Runes has taught me over the years. For a moment I feel a spear of panic at the idea of Louhi corrupting it, but at this point, I doubt that would change anything.
“Lord Death?” General Suvari asks, clearing his throat. “Are you alright? You’re standing there, staring at nothing.”
“Just a minute,” I grumble, raising my hand to tell them to be patient. Since when did the General learn to talk back like that?
I close my eyes and concentrate, trying to remember some line or stanza.
Then Hanna puts her hand on my shoulder.
“I remember this place,” she says in her calm, quiet voice. “Allow me.”
As I open my eyes to look at her, suddenly the world erupts in bright white, the source coming from her open palm. I squint but the light fades quickly, revealing the true nature of the mountain side when it’s gone.
The steep cliff looks the same at first, but when my eyes adjust I can see the narrow stairs made of glossy obsidian carving up the face, leading all the way to the metal door. Yet another thing I need a key for.
“I will take care of that too,” she assures me.
I give her a tight smile of thanks, feeling a little small after that show of power. I can’t even find a fucking key and she’s out here doing her own magic tricks.
We march to the base of the mountain, shadow stones rearranging themselves to show us a clear path, then start up the glassy black stairs. I remind everyone to be careful and once inside, don’t touch the skull snails.