rousing each other.
“Turyan mutt, go home with your tail between your legs!”
“Wench! Because of you, I will kill him slowly. His fate will be yours to thank for!”
“Over my dead body, you witch’s dog!”
Like this and in a dozen other ways, they mocked each other. Vierra’s knife slowly started to find openings in the Turyan’s defense. Once, then a second time Vierra’s knife struck, drawing blood from her opponent’s arms and upper body. Then, after Vierra yet again wounded him, he suddenly lashed out with his arrow-wounded right arm. The arm came along a large arc towards her, and as Vierra was not prepared for this kind of attack, it hit her face with tremendous strength. The woman was thrown back by the force of the blow like a ragdoll and was left lying in the moss, blood spurting from her mouth and nose.
Vierra felt two forces fighting inside her. The first one urged her to give way to the darkness that pulsed on the edge of her tortured mind, ready to sink her into the merciful embrace of unconsciousness. Then she would know nothing and wouldn’t have to determine the oncoming fate of this young man. It didn’t concern her, anyway.
There was another voice, though. It was the voice of a gray she-wolf, who looked at Vierra with her yellow eyes and yelled, “Fight! Are you so weak, a quitter? Did Mother really waste words with you in our people’s cave? Coward!”
Lightning-fast, Tuura turned and rushed his knife towards Vaaja, who was on the edge of the arena. Suddenly, with a soft, cracking sound, the rushing man fell on his face at the feet of his would-be victim. He stayed there, laying motionless on the ground. From the back of his neck stuck out the reddened blade of Vierra’s scramasax, which she had thrown.
“Over my dead body, like I said.” Vierra fell back to the wet moss, unconscious.
***
The deer had gathered in large herds. Before the arrival of the heavy blankets of snow, they would leave for their winter lands. Small tribes of Kainu were gathered together as well. The large deer hunt would provide everyone with food for long into the winter. Lingonberries were gathered, and small, round-cheeked children ate their stomachs sore of them. Men and women met in deer and lingonberry feasts, and in the spring there would again be fewer people living in the huts of lone men and women.
Even though there were no flowers in the autumn wedding, the celebration was still grand. After scrubbing each other in the sweat hut, the couple had been crowned with twig wreaths made by children of the tribe. Twigs were also plentiful in the place of the feast, and in a ceremony that Eera held everyone drank honey mead and ate so much that they could barely move. Vaaja was wearing his black belt, which was, according to the tribe’s laws, now his until someone came to the gathering to demand it.
The eyes of the cousins were evading each other during the festivities. Nevertheless, they both had their reasons to be happy during that autumn day. Aure was the chieftain now and would soon lead the tribe to the winter camp in her mother’s footsteps. Vierra had a husband now, and with him the years of loneliness would be left behind for good.
Of Fire and Stone
Fire
The midsummer river presented a beautiful and ever-changing view for the travelers in the majestic longboat. The sun smiled down on the rowers, and in the blue sky sailed just a few white strips of clouds. The river was wide at that spot, so wide that a grown man couldn’t have thrown a rock from the shore even halfway across. The longboat was like a sight from another world in this peaceful scenery, and it was indeed far from its homeport.
The boat was larger than any of the Kainu’s fishing boats, and it made the water foam grandly as it glided slowly up the river. The rowers were longhaired and bearded, sturdy men, each with an oar in hand. Those oars they pulled slowly, forcing the longboat to travel sluggishly upstream. Many of
“Turyan mutt, go home with your tail between your legs!”
“Wench! Because of you, I will kill him slowly. His fate will be yours to thank for!”
“Over my dead body, you witch’s dog!”
Like this and in a dozen other ways, they mocked each other. Vierra’s knife slowly started to find openings in the Turyan’s defense. Once, then a second time Vierra’s knife struck, drawing blood from her opponent’s arms and upper body. Then, after Vierra yet again wounded him, he suddenly lashed out with his arrow-wounded right arm. The arm came along a large arc towards her, and as Vierra was not prepared for this kind of attack, it hit her face with tremendous strength. The woman was thrown back by the force of the blow like a ragdoll and was left lying in the moss, blood spurting from her mouth and nose.
Vierra felt two forces fighting inside her. The first one urged her to give way to the darkness that pulsed on the edge of her tortured mind, ready to sink her into the merciful embrace of unconsciousness. Then she would know nothing and wouldn’t have to determine the oncoming fate of this young man. It didn’t concern her, anyway.
There was another voice, though. It was the voice of a gray she-wolf, who looked at Vierra with her yellow eyes and yelled, “Fight! Are you so weak, a quitter? Did Mother really waste words with you in our people’s cave? Coward!”
Lightning-fast, Tuura turned and rushed his knife towards Vaaja, who was on the edge of the arena. Suddenly, with a soft, cracking sound, the rushing man fell on his face at the feet of his would-be victim. He stayed there, laying motionless on the ground. From the back of his neck stuck out the reddened blade of Vierra’s scramasax, which she had thrown.
“Over my dead body, like I said.” Vierra fell back to the wet moss, unconscious.
***
The deer had gathered in large herds. Before the arrival of the heavy blankets of snow, they would leave for their winter lands. Small tribes of Kainu were gathered together as well. The large deer hunt would provide everyone with food for long into the winter. Lingonberries were gathered, and small, round-cheeked children ate their stomachs sore of them. Men and women met in deer and lingonberry feasts, and in the spring there would again be fewer people living in the huts of lone men and women.
Even though there were no flowers in the autumn wedding, the celebration was still grand. After scrubbing each other in the sweat hut, the couple had been crowned with twig wreaths made by children of the tribe. Twigs were also plentiful in the place of the feast, and in a ceremony that Eera held everyone drank honey mead and ate so much that they could barely move. Vaaja was wearing his black belt, which was, according to the tribe’s laws, now his until someone came to the gathering to demand it.
The eyes of the cousins were evading each other during the festivities. Nevertheless, they both had their reasons to be happy during that autumn day. Aure was the chieftain now and would soon lead the tribe to the winter camp in her mother’s footsteps. Vierra had a husband now, and with him the years of loneliness would be left behind for good.
Of Fire and Stone
Fire
The midsummer river presented a beautiful and ever-changing view for the travelers in the majestic longboat. The sun smiled down on the rowers, and in the blue sky sailed just a few white strips of clouds. The river was wide at that spot, so wide that a grown man couldn’t have thrown a rock from the shore even halfway across. The longboat was like a sight from another world in this peaceful scenery, and it was indeed far from its homeport.
The boat was larger than any of the Kainu’s fishing boats, and it made the water foam grandly as it glided slowly up the river. The rowers were longhaired and bearded, sturdy men, each with an oar in hand. Those oars they pulled slowly, forcing the longboat to travel sluggishly upstream. Many of
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