Margit Sandemo - The Ice People 29 - Lucifer´s Love

“Saga! We can’t reach you!”

Saga knew this. In her dream, she knew that the guardian spirits were never able to get in touch with the chosen ones. Not until the chosen had died and could join their group. It was true that they had helped Shira, albeit from a distance. But they could never do so directly, as they could help the poor stricken members of the Ice People. Tarjei had been another chosen one, and he hadn’t received any help at all, so he had succumbed and died before he had had time to begin his task.

It was a burden to think about this now. Having to manage all by yourself when you had no idea what you were supposed to do!

Villemo, Dominic and Niklas had all been chosen, but their task had been simpler. They were assigned to transform the beast Ulvhedin into a human being. That had nothing to do with spirits. Would this be the case with Saga’s task? She was yet to find out.

“Saga! Saga!” came the echoing moan. “Be careful with ...”

“What are you saying?” she shouted back, but the wind took her voice. “I can’t hear you.”

That was how it was. You can see things and people quite clearly in a dream but their voices are always indistinct! Always! When they were so far away and there was a howling storm between them and her, it was quite impossible to catch their words properly.

They shouted again: “Something unexpected has happened. You are in danger and we cannot help you!”

“What are you saying?” Saga shouted back. “What’s happened?”

It was impossible to hear the answer, but then the wind carried a few words with it: “We are sending someone to you. An ordinary human being who can help you. Stick to him!”

“Who is it? And what is it I must be careful of?”

But then the storm grew to a roaring hurricane and the group of ancestors faded and vanished. The link to the other world was severed. Finally, Saga, who had been tossing and turning in her sleep, woke up, still shouting. She gasped and trembled as she lay in her bed, trying to understand the dream. How much credence could you give to a dream? In her innermost heart and soul, she felt that she had to take this dream very seriously indeed.

If only she had found out a little more!

What was absolutely certain was that she had to be cautious. But it isn’t easy to be careful when you don’t know where the danger lurks, let alone its nature.

Chapter 3

It was hot, very hot!

The sun was baking, and inside the coach it felt like a oven. Everything was damp and sticky; dust lay like a crust on your skin and clothes, and crunched between your teeth, and your neck and palms were wet and clammy. Your clothes felt tight, your pulse throbbed in your chest and temples. Those shiny, bright red faces – and the smell! It was easy to tell who was clean and who had forgotten to change their clothes in the last couple of weeks.

The journey was extremely uncomfortable, almost unbearable, in the closed, rocking, shuddering coach. Saga was tired and felt under the weather; her whole body was aching, but she maintained her lofty indifference as much as possible. The windows couldn’t be opened, the heat was stifling, and the stale air was being re-used by straining lungs.

There was a baby who screamed all the time: the mother grew hysterical and yelled impatiently, “For goodness sake, be quiet!” which, of course, had quite the opposite effect. The father, a nice, quiet man without show, tried to quieten the little one and shield her from her mother’s slapping hands. The mother had started flirting with a travelling salesman whose attempts at elegance were somewhat threadbare. His black, double-breasted coat was worn at the sleeves and neck, his hat had a greasy rim and his narrow striped trousers had seen better days. This would have been forgivable if it hadn’t been for his exaggerated joviality, which masked a certain nervousness. Saga doubted that he could be relied on in business matters, and most certainly not in love affairs. He was quite good-looking, which he was perfectly aware of. When he first boarded the coach, he had taken a quick look around and had immediately picked out Saga. But since she was unsympathetic to his advances, he had begun to flirt with the young wife, which was much easier. Saga suffered with her husband, who merely bent his head over the child, looking sad. Now the heat had quashed the man’s desire to flirt, and there was irritation in the air.

An elderly farmer’s wife dozed in a corner of the coach.

They had been travelling for a couple of days, and Saga knew the routine by now. The stops, the inns, the passengers that got in and the others that got off. She realized what a comfortable and sheltered life she had lived until now. This journey was teaching her to compromise. The previous night she had had to share her room with the farmer’s wife, who had probably found it harder than she had. Imagine having to spend the night with such a sophisticated and elegant young lady when your own clothes were so shabby. But Saga had handled this new situation brilliantly. She, who lived in a world of her own, just smiled her cool smile and talked gently and graciously, and understood perfectly well the other woman’s embarrassment. They embarked on a kind of cautious friendship, from time to time exchanging swift glances and everyday remarks where appropriate. They sat at the same table for meals, after cautiously enquiring whether the other one minded.

Saga looked at the woman in her corner and suddenly noticed that she had turned completely grey. She knocked on the roof to alert the driver. He pulled up the horses, and she opened the door, looked about and then shouted: “Please drive over to the brook over there! One of the passengers is feeling unwell in the heat.”

They quickly drove there while Saga tried to cool down the farmer’s wife by fanning her face. The weather was so hot that even the air outside the coach was oppressive. Heavy black clouds loomed on the horizon. Nevertheless, it was a relief to get out of the coach. After all, the air didn’t stand completely still.

“There’s thunder in the offing,” said the salesman.

“That’s just what we need,” the young wife muttered wryly. Her husband helped Saga get the farmer’s wife out of the coach. She couldn’t stand on her feet, but slumped heavily between them. The driver and his assistant joined them, and together they managed to take her down to the brook, where they sat her on the grassy bank. Saga wetted a handkerchief and moistened her forehead with it.

“How is she?” asked the driver.

“I don’t know,” replied Saga. “I’ll try to loosen her clothes a bit around her neck and waist.” Despite all her efforts, the farmer’s wife was still poorly. She lay with her eyes closed, breathing shallowly and intermittently. Her complexion was dreadful to look at: grey with red blotches. Saga looked around. There was a man sitting under a tree not all that far from them, but she couldn’t see him clearly in the heat haze. She was just about to shout to him when another coach came driving along the road, going in the same direction. The coach stopped. A roll of thunder could be heard in the distance.

A man got out, and Saga couldn’t help staring.

She had never seen anyone like him. She had never thought that there could be anyone like this tall man who was walking towards her. He seemed to come from above, stepping off the coach with the sun behind him so that his handsome, blond hair formed a halo around his face. He carried himself well – regally, Saga thought – and as he came closer, his features appeared more clearly. He was a revelation, neither more nor less.

The big eyes smiled at her, the nose was straight and noble and the teeth white and strong. His face was perfect down to the tiniest detail!