“Did you not wonder what happened to him in the night?” he goes on, his tone light now, as if we’re having a casual chat.
I shrug. I had wondered that, of course. “Figured he went to take a piss and you accosted him?”
“He ran off and left you behind. We found him at the mouth of the Gorge of Despair,” he says. “Somehow he crossed these plains and survived.”
“What’s so dangerous about them?”
“You don’t hear that?”
I listen. There’s nothing but the sound of us walking, of sand blowing in the wind.
“You’ll see them soon enough,” Death says. “Regardless, it’s impressive. But by the time he got to the Gorge, he was stuck. We were up early doing surveillance of the area, looking for you, when we saw him. When we grabbed him, he told us he was here to do a trade. We assumed he would trade himself for your father, but to our surprise he said he was going to trade you for him. Must be the witch in him.”
I swallow the dust in my throat. Death could be lying.
“He knew how badly I wanted my father back,” I tell him. “He assumes I would gladly make that trade, and I did.”
“You don’t think that was his plan all along?”
“His plan was to rescue my father, to save him. He said he needed my help. If my help meant me being traded in his place, then so be it. What difference does it make now?”
“You don’t feel betrayed?”
It’s like he’s trying to get a reaction from me, but the truth is I don’t care. Okay, I do a little. Rasmus could have been honest with me from the start, but then he didn’t know if I’d go through with it. It’s one thing to say you’ll do anything, it’s another to follow through. Just as Vellamo had said.
“What are you going to do when you find him?” I ask warily. Despite Rasmus having an ulterior motive, I don’t want anything bad to happen to the guy.
“Oh, I haven’t given it much thought.”
“Did you really torture him? He seemed fine to me.”
I swear I can tell Death is smiling. “There are different types of torture, little bird.”
Suddenly he stops and puts his arm out, the cloak flowing over me as I still. “Listen,” he says, voice lowered.
I concentrate, listening.
Then I hear it. A long wailing sound, the same sound I briefly heard when Tellervo and I first came to the desert. It rises in tone, totally eerie and inhuman, and feels like nails on a chalkboard, making my nerves shake and twist.
“Wh-what is that?” I manage to say, the sound making me stutter.
“The Liekki?,” he says. “Spirits of murdered children.”
I stare at him aghast.
He glances at me. “I didn’t murder them, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he says testily. “They are relics from the Old Gods. Like many relics here, they cling on through the ages, impossible to get rid of, like fleas on a bonerat.”
The wailing gets louder, enough that I have to put my hands over my ears, the sound tearing me apart from the inside. “Fucking hell. Make it stop!” I yell.
“Can’t do much about them,” Death says, or at least I think he says it. I can’t tell anymore, all I hear is the terrifying, persistent noise. “There they are now.” He raises his arm and points in a dramatic fashion.
In front of us, flames emerge from the mist, giving off a black smoke that mixes with the orange, creating a sort of smog that fills the air. The flames come lurching forward and it’s only then that I notice the bodies. The walking bones of children, mouths open in that punishing scream.
“This all used to be forest at one point,” Death says, somehow his voice getting through to me. “But the Liekki? burned it down with their rage. The Hiisi managed to put a ward up to protect this side of the forest, as Tapio the Forest God wasn’t able to stop them. That’s why the Gods let the Hiisi share the forest.”
I can’t keep my eyes off the horrific sight, both terribly sad because these are clearly children, or were once, and terribly frightening because they won’t stop screaming, won’t stop staggering forward with their tiny, outstretched flaming hands and their snapping jaws.
Death steps in front of me, as if to be my shield. “They bite,” he warns. “Little vampires. They won’t get through my armor, but you’re made of the softest flesh and bone.”
I’m aware I’m his prisoner and he has an iron collar around my damn neck, but even so, I’m momentarily grateful for his presence. I move my head around the breadth of him to see the flaming murdered children come closer and closer, an awful stench filling the air.