John Lindqvist - Harbour

They were moving in their narrow corridor of air, and the downward climb became an upward climb without him even noticing. Somewhere along the way the steps changed direction and the mist around him turned into water. The sweat was pouring into his eyes; it didn't occur to him to ask it to stop. His legs were aching, his back, the back of his neck, but he clutched Maja's knees and kept on moving upwards, constantly afraid that he would trip and fall on the uneven steps.

His lungs were burning by the time he was standing on the rocks on the other Gåvasten once again, and every gasping breath brought with it puffs of ingrained tobacco smoke, loosened during his flight. When he crouched down to let Maja slide off his shoulders, he fell over. Maja shrieked and tumbled sideways on to the rocks, but landed on Bamse.

She neither cried nor screamed. She sat there curled up with her eyes open wide and her thumb in her mouth, hugging Bamse. Anders reached out a feeble hand and touched her foot, as if to check that she was really there. She looked at him with those same wide eyes, but said nothing.

The inside of his body was blasted as if it had been in a furnace, he had used up the very last of his strength in running and climbing, and all he could do was lie there full length on the rocks, gasping for breath and looking at his terrified daughter.

She'll he fine. She doesn't understand. She'll he fine.

It wasn't Anders who was shaking, it was the rock itself. A roaring rumble was rising from the very bowels of the earth, and it was growing in strength. He was lying with his ear to the ground, and he could hear it.

It's coming…

For a brief moment he had caught sight of it through the webs of illusion in which it concealed itself. The thing that held the people captive, the thing that needed their strength in order to live and grow. The threat from the underworld, the spirit of the sea, or the creature whose presence gave rise to legends. The monster.

There was no point in trying to describe it. It was great power and many-headed vision, a black muscle with millions of eyes, blind and without a body. It did not exist. It was all that existed.

The vibrations in the rock were transmitted into Anders' skull. His little brain splashed around inside trying to frame an idea of what he had been through, but without success. The important thing was not to be here when it came.

Anders rolled over on to his back and sat up, placed a hand on Maja's knee. He didn't really have the strength, but as some sergeant had said to him during his military service, 'You're going to run until even your own mother thinks you're dead, and then you're going to run a little bit more.'

His mother was out of the picture, he had only himself to rely on, and he didn't think he was dead. So there must be something left inside him. He wiped the sweat from his eyes and looked out across the ice-covered sea.

The birds…

They were no longer circling around the island, but they had not disappeared completely as in the other place. The whole flock had now gathered in an area about a hundred metres to the east. Many were flying around as before, but even more were standing on the ice, walking restlessly to and fro as if waiting for something.

There was no time to think. They were back in this world now, where it was October. His body was still steaming with heat, but…

'Here, little one.'

He untied the snowsuit from around his waist and moved closer to Maja, who was still sitting with her knees drawn up, sucking her thumb. Her eyes were staring in a way that made him uncomfortable. He tried to ease Bamse from her grip so that he could put the snowsuit on. She wouldn't let go.

'Sweetheart, it's cold. You need to put this on.'

Despite the fact that it impeded what he was trying to do, he was relieved when she shook her head violently. He tugged at Bamse's hat to get the bear away from her. The vibrations in the ground were getting stronger, and he had to make a real effort to speak calmly.

'Come on now, poppet, you'll catch a cold…'

He pulled at Bamse's hat and Maja held on tight. He felt a kind of cough in his chest, and a laugh burst out of him. He was laughing. His stomach was bubbling with sheer joy, and he carried on laughing. It was just so stupid.

He had fetched her from the other side, an earthquake was approaching from somewhere beneath them, and he was sitting here tugging at Bamse's felt hat while she held on tight and shook her head.

Maja tilted her head on one side and took her thumb out of her mouth, 'I'm not cold, Daddy. Just my feet, a little bit. Where's Mummy? I want her to come too.'

'OK,' said Anders, swallowing the laughter. 'OK. Mummy's coming later.

Maja looked critically at the snowsuit in his hands. 'And that's dirty. Really dirty.'

The fabric was stained with patches of dried blood, which in places had become sticky with the heat of his body during their flight. Yes, it certainly was really dirty.

Maja looked around her. 'What's that noise?'

'I don't know,' he lied. 'But we have to go now.'

He picked Maja up in his arms again and she let go of Bamse so that she could wrap her arms around his neck, while Bamse lay safely pressed between them. The rumbling was growing louder, and by the time they reached the shore on the south side, the layer of ice covering the sea had broken away from the island. He had to leap across a strip of open water so that he could run to the boat, which was still stuck fast in the ice out there.

By the time he reached the boat and put Maja down, the ice had begun to crack and explode. Deep cracks were beginning to run through the shining surface, and all the birds rose into the air, screaming excitedly as the ice broke and dark strips of water appeared.

I am the sea.

He turned the ice in front of the boat into water, he grabbed hold of the boat and pulled it along. Maja almost fell as the boat shot through the passageway of open water appearing ahead of the prow. She clung to the rail and laughed.

'Faster! Faster!'

Anders shook his head. She wasn't interested in how this was possible. The important thing was that it was fun, that they were going fast. He was the sea and he thrust the boat ahead of him with greater power. Maja's hair fluttered in the wind as she held on to the rail, bobbing up and down with her upper body as if to help, to urge the boat on.

A loud bang echoed through the air, and Anders turned. East of Gåvasten a black shape rose up, smashing the thick ice to pieces along its edges. It was already about a metre high and twenty metres wide, growing in size as it rose.

They were so far away that Anders could barely make out individual birds, but he could see the flock diving at the thing that was rising from the sea, attacking it, doing no more damage than a mosquito bite with their little beaks.

He turned to face Domarö, which was coming up rapidly. A mosquito was tiny, nothing compared with a man, who could squash it with his little finger. But a thousand mosquitoes was another matter. Perhaps the gulls' battle was not as hopeless as it seemed.

The ice had broken up into huge pieces as Anders steered the boat in towards the same jetty where he had moored it in the other world. He helped Maja up on to the jetty and turned to face the sea once again.

Next to Gåvasten there was now a new island, the same height as the rock on which the lighthouse stood, and at least five times as wide.

Gunnilsdra. Gunnil's ear. Gilded ear. The island of dreams.

A shudder ran through the sea and the jetty rocked beneath his feet. Both Gåvasten and the other island disappeared, and Anders blinked in bewilderment. The line of the horizon was moving, undulating like tarmac in hot sunshine.