Margit Sandemo - The Ice People 17 - The Garden of Death

“Very much so!”

“Do you have any idea of what we must do when we reach Taran-gai?” Daniel asked cautiously.

“I know a good deal but not all. I think it will be a combination of the news that you’ve just spoken about, and Shira’s task – plus what we’ll get to know in Taran-gai.”

“That makes sense.”

“I suggest that we spend today telling each other all we know about the Ice People and Taran-gai. Tomorrow we’ll begin our journey. There’s no time to waste.”

Shira said nothing. She sat silently with her hands in her lap, lost in her own thoughts.

They reached the taiga plain when the sun was highest in the sky. But this time there was no flautist in Vendel’s bewitched, dripping forest. Today, everything was bone dry and all the Taran-gais were gathered up in the wild mountains that rose so threateningly between the forest and the sea.

“Where do you think the enemy is?” Daniel asked quietly.

“I assume that by ‘enemy’ you mean those crude scumbags who are trying to destroy the Taran-gais?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to call them prisoners?” Irovar suggested. “They’re prisoners who have either been released or are on the run from other tribes so we can’t just call them Russians. The others we’ll call the Mountain Guardians, of course. But to answer your question, both parties are bound to have caught sight of us by now. So there’s nothing else we can do but trust your ancestors, your mandrake and Shira’s protectors, whom I have not yet told you about. But there’s one thing I can tell you. They’re awesome!”

Daniel was not quite sure whether this was comforting to know. The wilderness and Taran-gai really frightened him. The silent forest in which no birds sang, the mountains that hid watchful eyes ... His hand was on his pistol but he feared that it had been damaged by splashes of salt water from the Arctic Ocean and that the gunpowder had turned into one big, damp lump from all the great and small rivers he had had to work his way across on the long journey from Arkhangelsk.

He had the same thought as Vendel once had: the Taran-gai taiga must serve as a brilliant protection against the elements. But right now, everything was calm. They moved quickly and silently forward towards the mountains out by the sea. When they were quite close, they passed a ravaged village. Daniel wondered whether this was where Vendel had seen the horrific beast that had crept around his feet, pouring out oaths and curses. It almost had to be. There was no sign of life here: the village had been razed to the ground, and the inhabitants must have fled up into the mountains. If they had survived at all, of course ...

They continued. They had begun to climb when Daniel came to a sudden halt.

“Stop!” he whispered.

“What’s wrong?” Irovar muttered.

“There’s something close by. Something hostile.”

“How do you know?”

“The mandrake. It doubled up because of something unpleasant.”

Neither of the others seemed to find his words strange. They just nodded, standing quietly and listening.

Now that they had crossed the plateau, they could hear a soft breeze coming from the pine forest. They could also feel the icy cold from the mountains. The countryside was more undulating here. Small, abrupt slate peaks alternated with clusters of denser forest here and there, and it was precisely these clusters, that they feared.

As they stood there, they caught the sound of soft footsteps. “Get down!” Irovar whispered, and they crouched on the ground, Daniel pulling Shira close to him to protect her. She was as light as a feather, and he was afraid that she would break. He could feel her heart beating hard.

Then he heard a quiet voice say something in Russian just behind the nearest slate outcrop. “They were here! I saw them a moment ago! Three strangers.”

“We’ll seize them,” another, cruder, voice said.

Everything was still. The three of them were reasonably safe where they were lying, hidden behind tall clumps of monkshood. But this could not last forever.

They heard a sound behind the projecting rock, an indefinable sound as if somebody moaned. Then everything was completely still.

Why did the men not appear? Irovar and Daniel had their pathetic weapons of defence ready – but nobody appeared. Time passed. They would have to go around the rock in order to move on. Were these men just waiting for them?

Finally, Irovar stood up. The others followed his example. They looked at one another, edging their way closer. Daniel signalled that he had better go first. He crept cautiously around the projecting rock. Suddenly he felt quite dry in the mouth. He breathed deeply, signalling to the others that they were to come.

They stood and stared. Two filthy, ragged men were lying among the tufts of cotton grass. They were obviously escaped prisoners. The white cotton grass was stained red with blood from their slit bodies.

It was a little while before Irovar was able to say a word. “The Mountain Guardians,” he muttered. “The Mountain Guardians are here. This is how they usually treat their victims.”

Shira had shrunk against the cliff wall as if she was afraid that her legs would give way under her. Daniel took her gently by the arm.

“Come, we must hurry onwards!”

Although they walked fast, they tried to move as unobtrusively as possible. They expected to be attacked at any moment by one or the other group.

At last they had climbed so high and were so tired that Irovar signalled that they could rest. Now they had a view over the taiga right up to the Urals, while they themselves were on an open expanse. They could see the remains of another small village not far away, but they found a quiet shady spot between some boulders so they could not be seen from below. From above they could be seen by anybody but there was nothing they could do about that.

“How are you managing, Shira?” Daniel enquired gently. It was as if something was beginning to happen to the girl. The expression in her eyes shifted like ripples on the water; her hair shone with all the nuances of fire; she blended with the earth on which she sat and the sky behind her. It was frightening and fascinating all at the same time.

“I don’t know,” she said, and her voice sounded weary. “I’m tired. I’ve always known that I’m not quite like others, that I’ve been given some gifts, which I don’t understand myself. And never have I felt them more strongly than today since we came to Taran-gai. This is my country. That’s something I feel now. I don’t know what awaits me, but you, Grandpa, have always made it clear to me that I must keep my thoughts clean and pure. Free of jealousy, desire and arrogance. Purity, purity, was something you always talked about. You said that this was so extremely important for me, but so difficult sometimes. Not being allowed to be angry at cruel words ... Always having the courage to do what you are afraid of. If only I knew what it’s all about!”

Daniel stroked her hair awkwardly. He did not know what to say because her enigma was so difficult to fathom. And Irovar did not want to say anything. This peculiar Taran-gai, which Daniel did not understand! A remote country, that had developed completely independently from the rest of the world ... Could it really be true that their ancient superstition, their legend, had become a reality by virtue of its people’s closeness to nature, to the forest and the mountains? All this talk of gods and spirits, the Mountain Guardians and, above all, Shama himself – where did it all belong? In the real world or in the world of make-believe?

But for the fact that he moved about in a similar borderland himself, he would have brushed it all aside as nonsense. However, as things stood, he had to believe in Shira and the spirits of her ancestors, no matter how vehemently he opposed the idea.