Chapter 7 #2
“The challenge was properly made and accepted,” Niillas growls. “Do you accept defeat?”
For a moment, Sander fears the troll might attack anyway, ancient laws be damned.
Rage twists its features into something even more monstrous, and its terrible claws extend fully.
But Niillas steps forward, rising to his hind legs to his impressive height, and the stállu seems to think better of it.
“No, this is a trick,” it snarls. “The boy’s riddle has no answer.”
“A keyboard,” Sander says hastily. “The answer is a keyboard.”
The troll stares at him with uncomprehending fury, then throws back its head and howls like the mountains themselves are crying out in pain. It turns in a small circle, pacing agitatedly.
“Trickery! Lies! Sorcery!”
“A fair challenge,” Sander says.
And somehow, he can sense that the troll knows the truth of his words deep down in its ancient bones.
“No, squishy human,” it snarls. “You win now, but I’ll remember your scent. I’ll remember your voice. And when the old laws fade and the world crumbles, I’ll find you again.”
Niillas surges forward, his huge paws thumping against the old floorboards so hard that his claws leave marks.
“You lost the wager, and if you come near him ever again, you’ll taste my wrath.”
“Noaidi—”
Niillas roars, and it feels like the sound is shaking the pillars of the sky itself.
“No more chatter. You leave my human alone!”
The troll takes a step back.
“But I’m not unreasonable either.” Niillas’ voice takes on an almost sultry edge that makes the hairs on Sander’s arm rise. “You can still feast tonight. I smelled a hurt reindeer on my way here. I’m giving it to you as a gift, compensation for leaving my warrior alone.”
“You’re a wise man, noaidi.”
The troll all but drools, and Sander is sure that this particular picture is going to haunt his worst dreams for months, maybe years, to come.
“Follow the trail west to the ridge overlooking the fjord. You know the one where the ancient pine trees grow. You can trap the reindeer there, and have soft meat and warm blood tonight.”
The troll leans forward, a mockery of a bow toward Niillas. Then it turns and vanishes into the darkness.
Sander’s legs give out under him, and he collapses onto the sleeping bag, his hands shaking uncontrollably.
Niillas glares after the stállu for a long beat.
“This wager was incredibly foolish,” he says, still eyeing the shattered doorway like the troll might return any moment. “But it was also very clever, and very brave.”
“It worked, too.”
Niillas huffs that annoyed-bear sound again, which makes Sander smile.
“You’ve managed to make a creature as old as the very rocks this farm stands on hold a grudge against you.”
“But it won’t be around these woods for much longer, am I right?”
Niillas turns, his dark gaze achingly familiar even though he’s currently occupying the body of the most dangerous creature Sander has encountered in his life, ghosts and trolls included. Stepping closer, Niillas sniffs Sander’s hair.
“If everything works out as I planned, he’ll greet the sun on the cliffs above the fjord. He won’t bother you again.”
“Oh, Niillas—”
The temperature plummets.
It happens so fast that Sander’s next breath crystallizes in the air. Frost spreads across the walls like a living thing, turning the windows opaque and making the fire dim. And in the center of the room, Marta’s ghostly form begins to take shape.
Her hollow eye sockets find Sander collapsed by the tiled stove.
“You stay with me,” she hisses. “I’ve been alone for so long. It’s unfair. You don’t get to leave while I’m stuck here.”
The cold radiating from her is glacial, making Sander shiver as she points a pale finger at him.
“I offered you mercy,” she shrieks. “I offered you peace in the cold, where pain cannot follow. But you refused the quick death, the clean ending. Now you’ll freeze to death slowly, agonizingly! And let me tell you: freezing isn’t a gentle way to die.”
“The troll is gone,” Sander tries even as he feels with sick certainty that she won’t see reason. “Maybe you can be free too.”
“Free? I’ll never be free again, and you will share my fate.”
“Leave,” Niillas growls, stepping right in her path, shielding Sander from her ghostly presence.
Ice crystals form on his dark fur where Marta’s presence touches, but he doesn’t budge an inch. Sander fumbles for a log, for anything he can use to defend Niillas and himself, but he’s out of clever ideas, and he feels the exhaustion to his bones.
“I’ll turn his blood to ice,” Marta whispers. “I’ll freeze the marrow in his bones until he begs for the mercy he refused.”
She lunges, and the air turns so cold it hurts to draw breath.
But Niillas roars, rising to his full, terrifying height. He meets Marta with a powerful paw strike, and impossibly, his claws catch something solid.
There’s a sound like fabric tearing, a mind-shattering scream, that cuts off abruptly, and Marta just unravels, drifting away like smoke in the wind.
Silence descends again, broken only by the crackle of the fire rising again and Sander’s harsh breathing.
The oppressive cold retreats, leaving behind only the chill of the night.
From somewhere near the door comes a soft whining that makes Sander flinch.
A dog pads into the room, a Finnish spitz with a coat like burnished copper. The dog sniffs cautiously at the spot where Marta had been only moments ago, circling carefully around Niillas, and then occupies a spot by the fire.
“Is she gone?”
“Both of them,” Niillas rumbles. “Never to return.”
Niillas turns, takes a second to scent the dog, before settling down, curling around Sander like an overgrown cat.
“What’s with the dog? Is it…real?”
“A Finnish spitz. Good for hunting. Also perfectly real.”
“But where did it come from? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
Niillas rests his head on Sander’s shoulder, warm and grounding.
“Because the veil between the worlds is thin tonight. It must have slipped through the cracks.”
“You think this is Karo? Marta’s dog?”
When it hears its name, the dog lifts its head and whines.
And somehow the lonely little sound shatters what remained of Sander’s composure.
The terror of the past hours crashes over him like a wave, and a strangled sob tears itself from his throat. Once the dam has broken, he can’t stop. All the fear and adrenaline of the night come pouring out at once, leaving him empty and wrung out and utterly overwhelmed.
“Shh, I’m here. You’re safe.”
But Sander can’t stop. He presses his face into Niillas’ thick midnight fur and finally allows himself to feel everything: the helpless terror of being hunted by fairy-tale monsters turned into reality.
The bone-deep cold of Marta’s touch. The certainty that he was going to die alone and afraid in a rotting house while his teammates laughed about ghost stories.
And underneath it all, the overwhelming gratitude for Niillas, who’d risked his own safety to keep him alive.
“The dog might very well be Marta’s, slipped through space and time while the veil is thin. He matches her story, too. Spitz dogs are fearless little barkers.”
Sander sniffles.
“I’m sure he’s hers. She said my hair reminded her of his fur. And look at him…”
“He’s not a threat, though. I promise you that.”
Relaxing against Niillas’s huge body, Sander feels some of his anguish slip away.
“I won’t be able to change back until sunrise,” Niillas says eventually, when Sander’s sobs have quieted to occasional hiccups, and there’s something almost like uncertainty in his voice. “Does this bother you?”
Sander pulls back just enough to meet Niillas’ eyes. He throws his arms around Niillas’ powerful neck and holds on like his life depends on it.
“No,” he says fiercely, fresh tears streaming down his cheeks. “God, no. You saved my life. How could I ever be afraid of you?”
Niillas rumbles a deep contented sound, almost a purr, and one paw comes to rest protectively around Sander’s waist.
“Breathe,” Niillas hums. “It’s over now. You were so brave, Captain. So clever with that riddle.”
“Calling me clever again?” Sander can’t help but chuckle. “Careful, Vars, one might think you’re flirting with me.”
Niillas goes very still.
“Maybe I am. It’s hard not to be attracted to a man who defeated an ancient forest troll with a riddle about technology.”
Sander feels himself blushing.
“You’d be the first to like my brain more than my looks.”
Niillas snorts irritably, his grip around Sander’s waist tightening.
“You get that a lot, huh? Everybody fawning over your beauty, falling for your charm, but ultimately unable to see the person behind.”
Throat closing up, Sander fights not to start crying again, because Niillas is right.
Lots of people like him for his looks, for the fact that he’s easy to get along with.
Some appreciate his skill on the ice. But he’d been less than charming to Niillas.
Niillas knows him as snarky and pouting, scared and crying, making stupid decisions, and trying to make up for them with desperate bravery.
And still, Niillas seems to find something in him worthy.
“It’s exhausting,” Sander admits, shocked by his own honesty.
“I’m trying to keep up this stupid facade, but it’s never enough.
There’s always another party, someone else to make nice with, and I’m certainly never clever enough with a brilliant lawyer as an older brother, and all I can manage is a forestry degree. ”
“But you’re passionate about forestry.”
“How would you know?”
The question comes out as more defensive than he’d planned, but too many people have been making fun of his field of study in the past, so it’s hard to stay calm.
“Come on, Sander. How many times have I seen you rushing to practice because you were taking extra courses? And frankly, no one who doesn’t take their degree absolutely seriously would suffer through summer fieldwork with Lindalen. She made the bunch of you crawl through the mud for weeks on end.”
Warmth spreads through Sander’s chest, and God help him, if Niillas hadn’t been in his terrifying bear form, he would have kissed him.
Because Niillas sees him.
“Lindalen is tough, but you learn a lot.”
Niillas grins full of sharp teeth.
“And that’s exactly my point.”
“Okay, I love forestry. Satisfied?”
Rumbling his contentment, Niillas snuggles closer.
“Yes. I like it when you’re being honest with me.”
“It’s easy to be honest with you. Although I have no idea why you like honest-me.”
Niillas chuckles his ursine laughter.
“Maybe I have a weakness for your snark.”
Sighing deeply, Sander relaxes completely against Niillas. He’s tired to the bone, but he also feels safe.
“Can I ask you something?”
Nervousness, similar to what he feels shortly before important games, overwhelms him. But he has to ask. Because Niillas says he likes him, and Sander would never forgive himself if he didn’t seize this opportunity now.
“Ask.”
“Would you like to drink coffee with me?”
“Huh?”
“I’d like to buy you a coffee. Go on a date?”
Niillas rumbles deep in his belly. It’s an immensely pleased sound.
“I’d love that. But I have one condition.”
“A condition?”
“You have to promise me that you’ll take me with you if you ever plan to do something as dangerous as this dare again.”
“How would I ever get in such a situation again?”
“Easier than you think. Some of your assignments will take you to troll country, and if you plan to do the wilderness survival course, Svalbard is an especially dangerous place.”
“Are you suggesting we sign up for the Arctic Nature Guide program together?”
“Would you?”
“Yeah, okay. But only if you let me share your tent. You have better camping equipment anyway.”
“Deal.”
The idea of traveling to Svalbard with Niillas by his side sounds heavenly. Because if he is honest with himself, he was afraid to journey alone into the realm of the polar bears. But with this special bear by his side, he feels safe.
Karo whines softly and, after a moment’s hesitation, crawls closer to join their safe little cocoon. With a soft sigh, way too cute for an almost-ghost dog, he nestles against Niillas’ side.
Outside the windows, the aurora lights up again against the star-scattered sky, painting the world in deep shades of green with a hint of yellow.
Inside, the fire crackles comfortably and keeps the cold at bay, while Sander feels his eyes droop, finally letting himself relax, finally warm and safe and protected.
“Thank you,” he mumbles against Niillas’ fur.
It’s not sufficient, but it is a start.
“Get some rest,” Niillas rumbles. “I’ll watch over you until dawn.”
And Sander believes him.