Margit Sandemo: The Ice People 31 - The Ferryman

But right now they were weak. They had only one who was stricken among them, a girl, and she was worth nothing. Her name was Benedikte, as far as he recalled. Oh, he knew almost everything about the Ice People! For he had been granted eternal life by the malicious black source – as well as power over humanity. He didn’t possess the power fully just yet, paralysed and lethargic as he was. But from his secret resting place he was able to follow the fates of the Ice People, especially the fates of those who were stricken. And all the evil of the world was transmitted to him through the earth and air, through fire and water and stone – the five elements of the ancient tribe of the Ice People. For when he had sought out the source of life and drunk from the water of evil, the elements had become his slaves as well, the means by which he could attain knowledge. He had once ruled the entire world ... He bitterly regretted and fretted over the whim that had led him to go into hibernation back then! And then he had been betrayed! By his very own! He had regretted it hundreds of times since then, and had been enraged by it many more, but to no avail. He was spellbound and he would remain so until another flute was found, whether it was a magical one or one that played out of tune didn’t matter, as long as it was possible to play his signal on it.

That wasn’t difficult for him. The flutes had strengthened his ability to see things from afar. It was only his body that was still weak and imprisoned. But it meant that his lethal occult power couldn’t be used to the full: until now it had merely been a weak foreshadowing of what was to come.

Well, even if this Benedikte was worthless, he still needed to keep a watchful eye on her. For she was one of them. One of the faithless who were trying to defeat him. Not that she could do any harm, but if she were to receive help ...

No, he must be on his utmost guard even with her, the foolish child.

What if he were to lure her along a path that would lead to her destruction?

Yes, that was certainly something he could manage from his confounded prison.

But it would have to take place in secrecy. Tengel the Evil’s eyes fluttered in the dark. A cold shiver ran down his spine. Somewhere out there ... somewhere there was another danger. Shira wasn’t the only one. He didn’t know what the other possible danger was. It was invisible, hidden from him. But Tengel the Evil knew that it was strong, very strong!

That was why the annihilation of the girl had to be achieved in secrecy. Where the dangerous thing couldn’t find her and rescue her.

His thoughts were busy, his senses searching for something, stretching their long twining tentacles across the world, reaching out to the countries in the north ...

Suddenly a memory came to him.

Yes, he knew of a place far away from human civilization. A wonderfully evil place. He knew about it because he himself had been there in the course of his journey to the south.

That place had been dedicated to evil. He had liked being there and had stayed there for some time.

He had interfered with the history of the place.

It had been a splendid time.

He remembered one ... Tengel collected his thoughts, made an effort to remember ...Yes! A ferryman! That was exactly it!

Once again he chuckled, a malicious, inaudible inner laugh. The ferryman – yes, now it was all coming back to him!

It had been fun collaborating with that man. Tengel wondered how things had turned out since he had abandoned the place. It would be interesting to know.

Even before his arrival there, the place had already been so defiled, so infested with a wonderfully horrendous presence and by events so evil that a shudder of joy ran through him – no matter what he himself may have contributed to the place, it was undoubtedly the perfect spot for eliminating Benedikte.

His powerful mind control would lead her there.

But it would have to be achieved covertly, because doing it directly was completely out of the question now. How would he manage it?

Like a spider, he started to weave his long, wicked schemes – a true pleasure for the most malicious creature in the world, the evil incarnate himself.

Chapter 2

The moon was waiting behind the clouds that were rushing across the sky, dark and tattered. Every so often its pale disc would emerge for a moment, casting its blue-green light across the house on the hill.

It was a big house, with two storeys and numerous windows that reflected the light of the moon. The house might have had a colour once, but now the pale greyish wood had started to show through the layers of paint. The tiles on the roof looked mossy, and the bottoms of the verandah posts had begun to rot. On the ground floor, a dim light could be discerned behind velvet curtains, but the upper floor seemed uninhabited, with torn curtains hanging in shreds behind the windows.

When the moon disappeared behind the clouds again, the house appeared even darker in its overwhelming gloominess. But suddenly it was as though there was a fleeting glimmer deep within the uninhabited upper floor – dim and vague, as though someone were carrying a candle obscured by a many-layered curtain of cobwebs.

Then the moon emerged again and the gleam disappeared.

But no one ever walked on the road that led into the hills, so who would have seen it? There was no one who wanted to visit this house, or meet its inhabitants, or find out why it had such a menacing reputation. It looked like a haunted house and that was exactly what it was, according to those who had been close enough to see it. People also talked about hearing screams in the night and other strange things.

Only the moon seemed to love this house.

Then daylight arrived and the moon disappeared.

Guri Martinsen loosened her collar, which had been buttoned all the way to the top, and fanned herself with her gloves. She was an ample woman of about thirty-five, flushed and glistening with perspiration. Her attire was rather impractical, as the long train of her dress dragged on the ground, and she wore her hat tipped down over her forehead, fastened with dangerously sharp hatpins.

“I just can’t take another step. I’ll go down to the riverbank and rest for a moment.”

Somewhat irritated, her husband put down the luggage. He too was suffering from the heat. “Guri, we don’t have much time. It’s late, and the aunts are expecting us.”

Guri was already on her way down to the river. “You said that it wouldn’t be far from the station. And we’ve been walking for hours now!”

“Hours,” he muttered. “You’re always exaggerating.”

But he had to admit that the journey had been longer than he remembered, though it was a long time since he had been there. Back then the railway hadn’t even existed.

“Come, Sidsel,” his wife shouted to their eight-year-old daughter.

Sidsel stepped timidly across the grass, a slender little thing with thick, light hair and a permanently apologetic look in her eyes. Her father sighed resignedly and trotted after her. “But it can’t be a long break,” he shouted. “It’s getting late and we’ll have to move on tonight.”

Sidsel placed her small hand in her father’s. “Can’t I go with you?” she whimpered miserably.

“We’ve already discussed this. Mother and Father are going on their first trip abroad. We need some time alone, you must understand. So you will be staying with your grandfather’s sisters while we’re gone. I’m sure they’re very nice, and we’ll be back soon.”

Ove Martinsen hoped that the aunts would be nice. He hadn’t seen them since he was a child and he had been a little bit afraid of them then. But that was then: they had probably mellowed with age. They were eccentric, that much he knew, and the rest of the family had no contact with them. But he and Guri had wanted to break the ice by allowing them to take care of Sidsel for a little while. Three sweet old aunts ... Of course it would be a joy for them to have a child in the house! Especially since they lived out in the country ...