They journeyed as far as they could that day, and made a much more comfortable and very well-hidden camp that night. Annukka took care to doctor Kaari's tea so that she fell asleep immediately and slept dreamlessly.
This was not just for Kaari's sake; Annukka wanted to do something that required that she not be interrupted.
As soon as Kaari was asleep, she took out her kantele, and gathered her magic around her. The encounter with the bandits had shaken her more than she wanted to admit in front of the girl. Kaari was relying on her to be strong and clever; after all, the girl had never even been out of their village except to occasionally go out with some of the nearer reindeer herds, as the youngsters did in Summer. All this was new — and now, it was terrifying. Yet without Kaari, this journey might well prove impossible. As Fall turned to Winter, they would have to watch out for each other. Wolves would be a danger later, as would uncanny things. Once the snow fell, not only would they have to keep watch at night, turn and turn about, but one of them would have to stay awake to make sure that the fire did not go out, or they would both die. One person might survive in the Winter wilderness alone, but only if that person was an experienced woodsman, which neither of them was. They absolutely needed each other. Which meant that Kaari would need to discover courage and resources within herself that she did not know she had.
And it meant that Annukka was going to have to do what she was reluctant to do: use magic. There were a number of things that Annukka could do, magically, but they all carried with them varying degrees of danger. Every use of magic left a sign that other users of magic could read; out here, where there was no one else about, at least she would not be endangering anyone but herself and Kaari — but that also meant it would be easy for anyone looking for the magician to find them.
You could wrap yourself in protective magics, but that also left signs, and if you relied on those spells too much or assumed they were working, when something very dangerous came across you, something that could counter those magics, you could very well find yourself in deep trouble without warning.
What to do? That was the question. Whenever there was an option, Annukka preferred to do things that would work within the “natural order” of events. So what would fit that particular option?
Finally she thought she had a solution of sorts. So while Kaari slept, she played without singing. Words made the magic more immediate and powerful, increased the obvious “footprint” on the world, and that was the last thing she wanted.
Instead, she concentrated, as she did when she wove. She recalled every tale she had ever heard of lovers overcoming impossible odds to be with one another, of brave souls meeting every obstacle in their way to make a rescue. In her mind, she recited them as best she could, to the sound of her own fingers on the strings. She pictured the events of the stories in her mind. She added to that all the tales she knew of clever Heroes — not necessarily strong, nor great warriors, but those who were quick-witted and wise, who slipped by guards, made brilliant escapes and tricked their way out of trouble. That was who she wanted emulate; after all, she and Kaari were not fighters and there was no use trying to become fighters. It wasn't swordplay that was going to win the day this time.
And last of all, she called to mind all of the stories of Heroes finding help in unexpected places; it was heartening to realize just how many of those stories there were. And equally heartening to reflect on how often it was the smallest and the weakest who provided the most help. We will be kind-hearted and generous, she promised the magic. We will earn our good fortune. We will help everywhere it is needed. Not just now, but in the future. That was how you earned those unexpected favors.
She looked down at Kaari's sweet, troubled face. Let her see she is braver than she thinks. Keep her mind clear so that she can be clever. Let her keep her gentle heart, she added. All of this would be for nothing if Kaari lost some of what made her so unique, so cherished. Gained wisdom and experience on top of that would only be good. Anything lost —
No. Unacceptable.
She played and concentrated until she could no longer keep her eyes open. And only then did she set the harp aside, and put her own head down.
But not before checking the silver cup.
The thin rim of untarnished metal remained. Veikko was still alive. With that hope in her heart, she slept.
The next day, the track took them into deeper forest than any that Annukka had ever seen. Mostly fir, the trees spread thick boughs that interlaced with each other to the point where the land beneath the boughs was in a perpetual state of twilight. These were old, old trees here, not much taller than the ones she knew, but so big around that she and Kaari could not encircle their trunks with their arms outstretched. The trunks were bare of branches to well above their heads, with only the occasional shaft of light penetrating to make spots of brilliance on the forest floor. The ground was carpeted in needles so densely that it muffled all sounds completely. As they passed under the shadow of these forest giants, the very air changed. There was a scent of age, as if the carpet of needles that covered the forest floor and the track that they followed had been undisturbed for centuries. Birdcalls seemed very far away, quite as if they were coming from another world altogether, and there was not e ven a hint of a breeze to stir the branches.
It was cold, too. Not the Autumnal cold, the bite of frost, the hint that Winter was coming. This was the cold of long, long years, of things for whom the life of a human was the merest blink of an eye. It was not a damp chill, that was the strangest part. It made Annukka think of mountains, and dragons, and things for whom little, little human beings were of no consequence.
And there was the sense of being watched. The back of her neck prickled, and the hairs on her arms tried to stand erect.
“Do you feel it?” Kaari whispered, eyes darting from one side of the track to the other. There was nothing to be seen — just the huge trunks marching into the distance, the sparse undergrowth that struggled for the least little bit of sun that managed to penetrate the canopy of boughs. And yet…Annukka would be willing to swear that there were a dozen pairs of eyes on her at that moment. Not unfriendly, not hostile, but…eyes, nonetheless.
Annukka nodded. “I do not know what it could be, but something — ”
She bit off what she was about to say, as the least little movement out of the corner of her eye warned her that they were about to find out just what was watching them. The reindeer stopped dead in their tracks, trembling. Then they faded into view, appearing, one by one, among the trunks, stepping out to surround them.
Twenty of the most beautiful maidens that could have been imagined. They had faces that sculptors would ache to copy, complexions like rose petals, lips like strawberries, eyes as blue as the cloudless sky above, and bodies that would make a man faint with desire. Long, flaxen hair, like a waterfall of shining gold, fell unbound to their ankles. Annukka had never seen one woman to compare to them, much less twenty.
Despite the chill, they wore nothing more than simple, white linen shifts tied at the waist with ropes of woven vines to which a few scarlet leaves still clung. And it was those ropes around their waists that told Annukka what they were. Forest spirits. Soulless creatures that were a dreadful danger to a man, creatures that every mother warned her sons about. Annukka had been no exception to this, and unlike some sons, Veikko had taken his mother at her word. He must have, or he would never have gotten to his teacher on the other side of this forest.