Margit Sandemo - The Ice People 31 - The Ferryman

The Ferryman

The Legend of the Ice People 31 - The Ferryman

© Margit Sandemo 1986

© eBook in English: Jentas A/S, 2018

Series: The Legend of The Ice People

Title: The Ferryman

Title number: 31

Original title: Färjkarlen

Translator: Nina Sokol

© Translation: Jentas A/S

ISBN: 978-87-7107-653-0

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchase.

All contracts and agreements regarding the work, translation, editing, and layout are owned by Jentas A/S.

Acknowledgement

The legend of the Ice People is dedicated with love and gratitude to the memory of my dear late husband Asbjorn Sandemo, who made my life a fairy tale.

Margit Sandemo

The Ice People - Reviews

‘Margit Sandemo is, simply, quite wonderful.’

- The Guardian

‘Full of convincing characters, well estabished in time and place, and enlightening ... will get your eyes popping, and quite possibly groins twitching ... these are graphic novels without pictures ... I want to know what happens next.’

- The Times

‘A mixure of myth and legend interwoven with historical events, this is imaginative creation that involves the reader from the first page to the last.’

- Historical Novels Review

‘Loved by the masses, the prolific Margit Sandemo has written over 172 novels to date and is Scandinavia s most widely read author...’

- Scanorama magazine

The Legend of the Ice People

The legend of the Ice People begins many centuries ago with Tengel the Evil. He was ruthless and greedy, and there was only one way to get everything that he wanted: he had to make a pact with the devil. He travelled far into the wilderness and summoned the devil with a magic potion that he had brewed in a pot. Tengel the Evil gained unlimited wealth and power but in exchange, he cursed his own family. One of his descendants in every generation would serve the Devil with evil deeds. When it was done, Tengel buried the pot. If anyone found it, the curse would be broken.

So the curse was passed down through Tengel’s descendants, the Ice People. One person in every generation was born with yellow cat’s eyes, a sign of the curse, and magical powers which they used to serve the Devil. One day the most powerful of all the cursed Ice People would be born.

This is what the legend says. Nobody knows whether it is true, but in the 16th century, a cursed child of the Ice People was born. He tried to turn evil into good, which is why they called him Tengel the Good. This legend is about his family. Actually, it is mostly about the women in his family – the women who held the fate of the Ice People in their hands.

Chapter 1

The long ... long ... sleep.

Deep down under the ground, and far far away from where the Ice People lived in the north, Tengel the Evil opened his age-old eyes.

He did it slowly, because it was very difficult to raise eyelids that were heavy with age and covered in grey dust.

With a great effort he finally managed to open them. The two yellow slits that were his eyes weren’t actually able to see anything other than the darkness surrounding him. But Tengel the Evil didn’t need light. He could see without it. Far far away.

His centuries’ long sleep had not been uninterrupted, nor had it been equally deep the whole time. Every now and then it had been disturbed. Sometimes by his descendants trying to locate his buried water jar in the Valley of the Ice People. At those times he had needed to focus all his energy on defending the sacred treasure. He couldn’t move, and the valley made his brain feel sluggish as well, so his deadly menace didn’t have much of an effect. Even so, he had been able to transfer a projection of himself into the valley and make it work there.

He had used a projection of himself there many times to scare off intruders.

The most dangerous time had been when Heike and Tula went there. When Heike, one of the most powerful descendants of Tengel the Evil and one who had turned against him, had threatened him by reciting incantations from the earliest days of the Ice People. It had been a very trying moment, which had really put his stamina to the test. And things got even worse when Tula, that confounded girl, set those four demons on him.

What a horrifying memory!

After that ordeal Tengel the Evil had had to rest for a long time in a deep slumber in order to recover fully.

But there had also been good moments!

His dreadful eyes shifted back and forth; slowly and laboriously his yellow-grey gaze searched in the darkness, seeking through his memories for more pleasant events.

Not all his descendants who were stricken were quite hopeless (here Tengel the Evil thought with especial loathing of Tengel the Good, who had managed to reverse the curse so that his miserable descendants took up the battle against him, their great ancestor).

But there had been some episodes that had given him great pleasure. Like the beautiful man of long ago who chopped off the head of his wife. Or Kolgrim, except for the fact that he didn’t manage to accomplish very much – except, of course, for killing the dangerous Tarjei, though of course in that instance Tengel the Evil had been able to control his actions. Sölve had been a good man for Tengel the Evil. And Ulvar! He had probably been the most promising of them all. Because the sanctimonious members of the Ice People had managed to ruin Ulvhedin! But Ulvar had been acceptable!

The flutes! Every time a descendant had managed to find a magically tuned flute, Tengel the Evil had grown in strength. Tula had found one, but that confounded pack of deceased relatives had quickly prevented her from continuing to use it. But the little that she had managed to play on it had done him good. It had made him feel more awake. So awake that he had been able to start opening his eyes. At first it had only been a flicker, but now he had finally managed to open them fully.

He blinked the narrow slits of his eyes just once to check, and even that insignificant movement sent a stinging cloud of ash-grey dust into the surrounding air.

Tula’s unfinished flute playing had awoken Tengel enough to be able to lead one of his wretched descendants to Eldafjord, where his own flute was, the one he had managed to lose so ignominiously.

Eldafjord ... Eskil’s journey there. Tengel had been just on the verge of waking then. Woken by Heike himself, one of his deadliest enemies. Deep within his black soul Tengel chuckled maliciously just at the thought of it.

But then she had come. The horrible woman! The abominable one! Tengel squirmed with loathing at the mere thought. The one who had managed to get hold of the pure water.

Shira, his mortal enemy.

And the flute, his precious flute: she had destroyed it forever.

The memory cut him like a knife.

No, he would no longer think of the shame and humiliation he had had to endure.

He was rejoicing within his soul once again. A new descendant had arrived. Ulvar had been a true disciple of Tengel the Evil. He had found an unfinished flute – guided by Tengel’s directions, of course – and that knowledge alone had given Tengel the Evil greater strength.

But now that flute had also been destroyed.

And Tengel didn’t know of any others. That wretched flock, to think they were his very own blood! And all the time he had been lying here, spellbound, he had had to keep an eye on them to make sure they didn’t ruin his plans.